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She lazily swatted at something glued to her chest, but then gave up when it was met with a sharp, pinprick sting. Her wings were hanging loose at her back and there was a mask clasped tightly around her muzzle, pumping oxygen into her lungs. Groggily, slowly, she become a little more aware of herself, realising she was connected to a catheter and feeding tube. A set of IVs ran into her forearms and they pulled sharply at her flesh when she tried to move again. She had no idea where she was. The last thing she remembered was the intolerable heat and the biggest damned dragon she had ever seen looming over her. Beyond the liquid cool darkness, she could hear muffled voices. She tried to reach out to them with her mind, only for her to get nowhere. He abilities didn't respond, they simply butted up against an impenetrable barrier. Panic welled up within her as she tried again, but to no avail. She realised that she had been psychically subdued, her mind somehow anchored firmly to her body, unable to roam free, to sense the things around her; unable to read minds, unable to do anything. She started to thrash lethargically, grasping blindly at the various tubes and sensors attached to her.

I wouldn't do that if I were you. You'll end up drowning yourself. A familiar voice said. It was in her mind and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. She squirmed again. Again, the voice spoke up as she tried in vain to shut him out, Well, if you really want to kill yourself, I'm not stopping you. It just means that I have the perfect excuse for backing out of training you up so you don't accidentally flay someone's mind. So, by all means; kill yourself.

She stopped moving, forcing herself to relax. She tried reaching out with her mind again and came up against that solid wall of nothing once more. She tried speaking instead and was relieved to find that she got somewhere.

Where am I? She asked, surprisingly exhausted.

Aboard the Ranger. Major Shira brought you back and Doctor Jashen plugged you into one of our EHPs. He replied.

She tried figuring out who it was that was talking to her. She sifted through her memory until she made a connection. It was the Bressis man, Corporal Marsh.

EHP? She asked blearily.

Emergency Healing Pod. They're reserved for the most serious of injuries.

How long have I been here? What happened?

You were crisped up pretty badly, so you've spent the last week in an EHP. S'pose that's what you get for pissing of an Aspect of Fire. I can't say I have any sympathy for you. He replied. Angelica's hand went to her stomach, panic seizing her in its grip, The kid's fine. It was only you she targeted, not the child.

What? How? That's impossible. She felt him shrug. Then she squinted as a panel was drawn back on the pod's porthole, blinding her with harsh, blue tinted light. Oh no. The Hope's Blade-

You rolled some bad luck. The Synthenoids are working on getting rights to expand further into this galaxy, so they've been buttering up the GC in a big way. They got a superdread squadron on border patrol and your ship's been forced into dry dock aboard one of their superdreads, its crew under lock and key. Marsh's sense of irony tickled at the edges of her mind and she swore. Don't worry, only one of your crew tried something stupid. One of the Synth warriors made an example of her and now the rest of the Blade's crew are nice and polite towards their jailors. The fact that your girl's got two broken legs and two broken wings now might be the cause of their good behaviour. Now, now, don't get angry. Captain Owen and his Ex managed to persuade the Synths that this wasn't an act of war. But, if it is in actual fact, an act of war, well... I hope my death is swift and merciful. What they'll do to you, though, remains to be seen.

You'll be written off as political prisoners.

He laughed mirthlessly, No such thing as far as the Synths are concerned.

There was a soft, gurgling sound from beneath her feet and the viscous fluid in the EHP started to drain. A padded rack extended out of the pod's back and it caught her under her arms as the tank drained. The pod vibrated gently and started moving, rotating backwards so that she was lying down. The rack retracted and she glared into the sudden harshness of the overhead lights as the pod's front split open and large hands reached in to expertly remove the IVs, catheter, feed tube and sensors with gentle, but swift motions. Her vision cleared and she looked blearily up at an Orc's face, his tusks capped with silver, his expression bland. He looked at his datapad, said something to an orderly in a language she didn't understand and then looked back at Angelica.

''When you're ready to sit up, sit up. But only when you're ready.'' Jashen said. ''You'll feel some disorientation and possibly some nausea, but that'll pass.''

Be nice to the doctor. Marsh cooed.

I have no time for your sarcasm, Corporal. She grunted.

Huh, how about that. She still knows how to use people's ranks and titles. That'll go some way toward shaking your crew and destroyer loose. Probably.

Angelica reached up and grasped at the edges of the EHP with numb hands. She pulled herself up slowly, with a grunt of effort and flinched as a pair of small hands pressed against her back, helping her upright. She looked around and saw a tall, pale woman in nurse's whites, her almond shaped eyes a deep blue and her black hair pulled back into a tight bun. She looked almost elven, but Angelica knew she wasn't. She couldn't remember the name of the race, her mind was still too foggy to think of anything beyond what Corporal Marsh was saying.

She's a Jes'wan. They're not native to this galaxy and they have a small holding somewhere around these parts. They're a prickly species that we've been friends with since the Shadow Stalkers banded together all those years ago, so I don't recommend trying to woo them into trade any time soon, especially after what's just happened. They and the Synths don't exactly get along, either and you've basically kicked the hornet's nest where they're concerned.

Do you intend on staying in my mind? She asked irritably, taking the proffered fluffy towel in shaking hands as she sat awkwardly in the EHP. She started rubbing it through her significantly shortened fur, rubbing away the excess viscous fluid that still clung to her.

Fuck no. The sooner I've taught you my meditation methods, the sooner I can go. You've seen what Sonja can do. There's no way I want to be on the receiving end of that.

Train me for what?

An annoyed sigh. You lost the challenge, which means I now have to train you up with an ancient Bressis meditation technique so you can keep your mind to yourself better. Otherwise people are going to get very angry with you and, well, I'm not repeating something that's been said to you hundreds of times before already.

''I don't need training, especially from the likes of you!'' She snarled outloud.

The Jes'wan woman glanced over her shoulder. Angelica sneered at her as Marsh carried on, unpurturbed.

You just can't help yourself. You claim to be one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy, which, I agree with, yes, but your childishness lets you down in a big way. If you don't sort yourself out, you'll end up killing your people, either by inviting disaster, which has probably already happened, or by your own hand, accidentally. Now, you can say that's not something you would do all you like, but I've heard all that before. That kind of bluster wielding that kind of power never ends well if it goes unchecked. Now get dressed and get to the quarter deck.

The Jes'wan woman approached her again, this time with fresh clothes in her arms; a pair of white, finely cut trousers, a matching tunic in emerald green that was perfectly tailored to her wings and a pair gleaming black clawboots. Angelica stared at the neatly folded clothes in distaste. The Jes'wan woman simply looked at her, as a mother would look upon a misbehaving child.

Put the damned clothes on, woman. We don't have all day. Marsh snapped. He was starting to sound anxious.

''Where did these come from?'' She asked suspiciously. She'd never owned formal clothes such as these. She had no use for them. The idea of wearing them already had her feeling constricted.

''Materializer Two. Captain's orders.'' She replied simply, pressing them into Angelica's arms. She turned and left, leaving her to get dressed in a brooding silence. Her muscles and joints felt stiff, and no amount of stretching was soothing it away. Marsh had informed her that it was a side-effect of being in an EHP and that it would wear off soon enough. She asked him about why her psychic abilities had been restrained and the moment he had mentioned the small, datachip-sized device pinned to the back of her head, he shouted her down as she reached for it to pry it free.

Doing that will activate its failsafe. You'll render yourself psychically inert, possibly for the rest of your life as well as sustaining serious brain damage. It's cranked all the way up to maximum and is plugged straight into your cerebellum as well as your aura. It's very effective, which is why it was agreed upon by Captain Hartman and Lieutenant Commander Spears that Jashen could install it. It will only be removed once you're on your way. It's simply a precaution against you psychically murdering anyone. Now get to the quarter deck before I have to drag you there.

Ha! You don't have the muscle!

Sure, why not. He replied simply, leaving her hanging.

He went quiet after that, leaving her to finally get dressed. She pulled herself out of the EHP, stepping back in surprise as it immediately started to retract and tilt upright once again the moment she was clear. Her attention went back to the bundle of clothes in her arms. She sighed in annoyance, debated just strolling to the quarter deck naked then decided against it. She started pulling the clothes on, muttering under her breath the whole time. Finally, she pulled the clawboots on, stood up from small chair she had sat down on and stretched, flexing her wings. The formal dress was remarkably comfortable and fit superbly. It allowed her freedom of movement without bunching up or chafing and it wasn't constricting like it had initially looked. It was flawlessly tailored to fit her and the emerald green hue of the soft fabric went perfectly with her hair and wings. She toyed with the idea of asking if she could keep it. Then she shelved the thought; she would never have reason to wear anything like this again. It resembled the dress uniform of a starship captain too much for her tastes.

That's the point, you idiot. You're the Empress of Thymion, Lord Commander of the Home Fleet or whatever the hell it is you call yourself. You wanna play Commanding Officer, then you have to at least look the part even if you can't act it. Marsh said.

She ignored him, dumped the soiled towel on the front desk as she left the medibay and was confronted by the Bressis himself, who was waiting for her in the hall outside. He had a new set of battle armour on, its black and green surface polished and spotless. He held his helmet in the crook of his arm and the moment he saw her, he wordlessly escorted her to the quarter deck where the ship's pinnace was waiting to take them across to the Synthenoid warship, the Watchful Eye.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Hope's Blade was suspended in a powerful magnetic field, ensnared and stranded within the Watchful Eye's auxiliary hangar bay. Its sleek form gleamed under the glare of the lights, which in turn revealed the aftermath of a brief, fruitless struggle. Shallow gashes had been torn down her flanks as if she had narrowly escaped the grip of a large predator only to be captured once-and-for-all by a powerful tractor beam that had warped the outer layer of the triple-hulled vessel as it had tried to pull free. A large hump had formed across the ship's back where the armour had warped out of shape under the pressure of the reversed gravity, the crystalline skin cracked in a delicate spider web across its surface. Angelica stepped off the Ranger's pinnace, slowly walking down the ramp as she looked upon her escape plan. The Hope's drives were still smoldering, disabled by a direct warning shot from the Watchful's point-defense lasers.

Fury raged through her, but Marsh's presence stayed her hand as he seeped images of the brief fight into her mind by way of explanation. The Hope's Blade had put up a good struggle, firing at the tractor beam generator, but each shot it took - missile, torpedo, gauss cannon, plasma; they simply ended up suspended within the tractor beam's field to be swatted aside like they were nothing by PDC fire. A harsh volley of laser fire had subsequently cooked the destroyer's drives. The Watchful Eye had barely made any effort, using nothing bigger than a pair of its triple-barreled PDC cannons. Angelica reeled, not wanting it to be true, yet knowing it was. She had the evidence right before her. She looked away from the Hope and a sickening shock of awe crawled into her stomach as she watched a fifty-foot tall figure in flowing silver robes approach her from the far side of the hangar. The creature was a cybernetic organism, statuesque in build, its face a polished, convex sheet of black crystal. It looked female, with a lithe figure, its every move elegant, a flowing mane of liquid silver tendrils falling down to her knees. She turned her inscrutable gaze upon Angelica and pinned her to the spot. The pinnace's ramp sealed up behind them, leaving Angelica feeling exposed; yet another feeling she was not comfortable with. She had no idea what to do, either. She couldn't remember if Trillian had explained to her the nuances of behaving around a Synthenoid, or if he had and she had simply tuned him out, deeming his cautionary words of no consequence.

She pursed her lips in thought, waiting for Marsh to speak up. The Bressis stayed annoyingly quiet, both audibly and psychically. For the first time in an extremely long time, she just wanted to know what to do, to have someone give her a nudge in the right direction. Any direction. She cast another look at the stricken Hope's Blade. She frowned, annoyed. This is how the Daglia had caught the Ranger. It was a very similar circumstance. A snagged destroyer caught stealthed in another's territory and its crew held as prisoners. She wondered if she could get a similar outcome, too. Even with the thought of the Hope's crew in such a dangerous situation turning her stomach, she put on her best winning smile, ready to play again, her mind racing to figure the situation out.

Marsh bowed deeply, uttering the words ''Fleet Lord Sharna, the Ranger thanks you for your prompt actions and your compassion. It is truly an honour to be aided by such an esteemed Lord of the Fleet.''

Angelica's smile slid from her face, her facade cracking. Fleet Lord. She vaguely recalled reading about Fleet Lords of the Synthenoid Empire when she had suffered through Trillian's first lesson. They were in charge of task forces and operated as an extension of their Empress's will. Fleet Lords weren't at the top of the pile in the Synth chain of command, but they were close to it and they were a force to be reckoned with.

At least you retained some information. Marsh said in her mind. Now bow or she'll kill you and your crew.

No she won't-

''You would like your ship and its crew back, young one?'' Fleet Lord Sharna's voice was surprisingly soft for her size, carrying a soothing song-like lilt with it.

Repeat after me: Yes, Fleet Lord, I would be honoured to receive such a boon.

Angelica grit her teeth. She wouldn't do such a thing. Kowtowing to a machine, it was ridiculous. The Fleet Lord looked on and Marsh's terror started to seep into Angelica's mind. He wasn't afraid of her, yet he was terrified of the Synth that stood before them. The fact that Sharna had no accompanying guard with her irked Angelica. She exhaled slowly and repeated Marsh's words sweetly.

Now apologise and repeat it without the sarcasm. He snarled.

He seemed genuinely upset, being in the presence of the Fleet Lord. Good. She thought. Then her mind lit up with the promise of another hard lesson and she apologized and asked again. Sharna's gaze remained fixed on Angelica for a few moments longer. She was unreadable, standing still as a statue, her silver, seamless body glowing under the glare of the lights as she gauged the wolf, silently judging her.

''We have seen the footage, listened to the audio and read the reports from the Ranger. We also purged the Hope's Blade's datacore and navigational systems, among other things. All of this information will remain un-tampered with and has been submitted as evidence along with reports and statements from your crew. You came here seeking to have your Empire removed from the Black List, yet your behaviour has severely damaged those chances. You will find yourself having to explore and expand in the opposite direction, away from Sterwil Federation space and its allies. We are fresh from a devastating war of our own and do not need child Empresses running around like they own the place. Your attempted stealth entry here has already destabilized an already precarious peace between Sterwil and the Connarum Sector. You have one chance to free yourself of that black mark, so make it exceptional. However, know this: If that peace fails and it is down to you, then the black mark shall remain and you will be turned away, by force if necessary. Now go see to your crew. I have a mess to un-tangle.'' Sharna said dismissively.

Don't. Marsh warned severely as she bristled. Since we can't get through to you, someone else will.

Fleet Lord Sharna dipped her chin to Marsh, turned and left the hangar. A pair of Synths, born and bred Warrior Caste, forged like tanks, silent as the void beyond the hull, stepped forward. Where they had been standing, neither knew, but they were there and they were ready for a fight. They escorted Marsh and Angelica through a large, ovoid portal on the far side of the hangar, passing beneath the nose of the Hope's Blade that was high above them. There was a slight breeze from the magnetics suspending the ship as they passed and nothing more. They followed in silence, Angelica brooding and Marsh worried. He caught a stray thought in the back of her mind and answered.

The Synths hate the Bressis and the Bressis hate the synths. It's an age-old rivalry of sorts. It's very complicated and mired in politics, and the fact that I'm not dead yet should be ringing an entire cathederal's worth of warning bells in your head right now. Also, I should warn you now, that no matter what, you must hold your temper and do as you're told. You're on Synth turf now and you've just committed an act of war as far they're concerned. The Connaru are a prickly, skittish race. It's taken about ninety years, Standard to talk them down and persuade them to discuss a peace treatise. Your ship turning up under stealth, without notice, may have just thrown that treatise out the airlock. If they go back to war with Sterwil, then the death toll will go into the trillions this time. You really believe that you and your people are the only ones with troubles? He laughed mirthlessly again, almost mocking. There are other problems out here that need dealing with. You're not the centre of the universe: deal with it.

Regardless of his harsh words, Angelica found herself nodding, clinging on to the Bressis man like a life preserver. Without her psychic powers, she felt lost, set a drift in a universe she didn't truly understand. They rounded a corner, entered a swift moving lift and then stepped off it into a gleaming medibay that looked to span the entire length of the 2 kilometer ship. There was an awful lot of tech and medical devices she couldn't fathom the use for spread out neatly in translucent boxes, hanging from racks and stored in gleaming metal cabinets. The medibay itself was surprisingly elegant for something so functional and she found herself trying to reach beyond her enforced mental barrier to inspect every facet of it, sighing in frustraion when she couldn't reach out. She needed Marsh for that and he wasn't forthcoming with any more information.

Sitting off to one side, secluded away from the rest of the medibay, was Trillian. He was in a partitioned off section, a curvy, feline Synth female tending to him. She had a fan of thick, sinuous tails and her almond shaped eyes glowed a jade green, and a shimmering white robe with medical insignia engraved into it was wrapped tightly about her. Trillian actually looked happy, relaxed to be with her as she picked through his fur, gently pulling a thin strip of it back to reveal a silver skin stretched across his muscles and tendons. Angelica's mouth dropped open. His eyes were glowing that soft gold again and his whiskers had taken on an almost fibre optic sheen as he calmly watched the Synth woman run a series of odd tests on his gleaming skin.

The Oshanu word, Pol, means Synth. Pol'gess means Synthenoid. And as he said, his life is none of your business. Marsh said, catching her stare.

Who's that with him? She asked as Marsh moved along to a cubicle further down.

His wife. Or what's left of her at least. And if you tell him you know, I'll flay your mind. He said with such seriousness, she looked at him, her eyes wide. He really wasn't joking. She wondered just how much power Marsh was hiding from her and thought about Sonja, the red giant and the burning that had almost consumed her. She pressed her hands to her stomach. Her unborn child squirmed reassuringly at her touch. Sonja had left the child completely unharmed as she had slowly roasted under the dragon's gaze. Things had certainly taken a bewildering turn, even for her.

''Rosemary!'' She blurted suddenly and ran towards the sealed door of the cubicle three doors down. The door shuddered as she slammed into it, but didn't budge. It was locked tight and she pressed herself up against the crystalline material, watching as a pale blue dragon fussed over the other winged wolf sitting inside on the edge of the bed. ''What have you people done to her?! Let me in!'' She snarled angrily, clawing uselessly at the door, trying to break in. She tried reaching out with her mind again but it butted up against the psychic barrier created by the Psy-Suppressor. She howled in anger as she fought to get in.

Firm hands landed on her shoulder and pulled her away from the door. She twisted from their grip, spun around, growling and stopped dead in her tracks. Sonja stared at her hard, dressed in a shipsuit, her armour discarded back on the Ranger.

''Pull yourself together. I know who she is and what she means to you. Medic-Sergeant Clearwater is repairing the damage the Synths did to her wings so that she may fly again. You going barging in there will see to it that his concentration is broken and that she will never fly again.''

Angelica stepped back from both the door and Sonja, confused. By rights, her claws should have cleaved cleanly through the door, yet they had merely left scratches and nothing more. She looked back at Sonja, who was watching Clearwater guiding Rosemary through a series of wing-based physio exercises. Her legs were bound in sturdy, lightweight casts and there was a small, jointed machine clasped to each of her wing knuckles, pins and thin tubes feeding into the flesh.

''What happened?'' Angelica demanded.

''She attacked a Synth guard. One of the Warrior Caste. He made a swift example of her in front of her crew. Both legs broken and both wings broken. Another week, and she'll be up and flitting about again. So long as you let Jashen and Clearwater do their thing.'' She read the look on Angelica's face, ''She hasn't complained. In fact, she's gotten on with Clearwater very well. Everything's been explained to her and she said that she would very much like a word with you. Which is why you're here right now and not in Synth custody like the others.'' There was no malice to Sonja's words, no condescending tone or smugness. She was simply telling her how it was.

''But our bone density... we can't recover from broken wings!''

Sonja snorted with mild amusement, ''You still really believe you're one of a kind, don't you? You're not as unique as you believe yourselves to be. There are plenty other races out there with similar builds, bone densities, etcetera. Even if the bone is healed after it breaks, it can be re-broken and the two pieces fused back together to be just as strong and seamless as they were before. And since your lot don't rely on true flight like I or my squad do, this is a simple task.''

Angelica turned her attention back to Rosemary. She was smiling, laughing at something Clearwater said. He flexed his wings slowly, the narrow spans unfolding elegantly into shimmering stretches of blue leather. Rosemary mimicked his movements with a grimace and the two machines pinned to her wings sparkled with an array of blue and green telltales. He nodded and she folded her wings, resting a moment before repeating the process under the blue dragon's guidance. Angelica couldn't tell what he was saying, just that he was animated about it, his movements positive, nonthreatening. He looked at his datapad and something he said made her beam with unfettered joy. He turned then and beckoned Sonja, Marsh and Angelica into the room.

The door clicked and Angelica burst in, threw her arms around Rosemary and buried her face in the ruff of her neck, her tail twitching with happiness. Rosemary returned the hug as best she could from her awkward sitting position on the bed, beaming with happiness.

''Thank you Major Shira. After all that's happened, I honestly wasn't sure if you'd keep your promise.'' Rosemary said with a warm smile. She held onto Angelica's hands, her expression turning stern and she started speaking to her in their own language. Whatever was being said, Angelica's expression shifted through anger, worry, chastised, relief, understanding and back to anger again.

''- but your wings-''

''Will heal. These people have methods that stimulate the growth of bone and marrow. They've explained the process and shown me footage of how it's done. They used your medical scans as a guideline to help things along smoothly so I'll be good as new in no time, so long as you can keep yourself in check.'' Rosemary said. ''Please, Angel. These people got put in a tenuous situation by their higher ups and you're still making them suffer for just doing their duty. That's not right and you know it. And I know what Sonja did to you. Captain Hartman allowed me to visit you when you were in the EHP..? Yes, EHP. You're still a little crisped around edges, but you're fine otherwise. And don't deny it. Don't anger them any more, please. I would love to know more about these people and their tech and lives. And their customs, too! Imagine; if they can fix my wings, something it'll take you far too much time and energy to do, in less than a week with minimal effort, what other healing methods do they have that we don't?''

''We're fine without their meddling.'' Angelica said hotly.

Rosemary swatted her arm lightly, ''We may reproduce slowly, but it's still putting pressure on our resources and infrastructure. If we can be taken off the Fed's Black List, then we can make connections so much easier even if we don't join them. Membership is purely voluntary! We could make new colonies, alleviating the stress on our core worlds. But you don't want that, do you?''

''Of course I do! I'm not stupid!''

''Then act like it. I know you're incredibly young still and have an awful lot to learn, but your tantrums will only get you so far. Sonja, probably against her better judgement, showed me where she took you to explain what she had done to you and why. She told me all about her role in the universe and why such fierce power needs to be disciplined. I'm genuinely surprised she didn't finish you off, after you destroyed all those stars. You were as good as murdering her children.'' Her tone softened as she continued, studying Angelica's face carefully. ''And the fact that you believe that an Elemental is one of the Old Ones is quite insulting, don't you think?''

''I don't care for Elementals, either, no matter how powerful they are. I would kill every last one of them, given the chance.'' Angelica grunted stubbornly.

Rosemary sighed in frustration. ''Let me put it like this: Without the Aspects of Fire, like Sonja, there would be no fire. They keep the balance of all things fire related simply by existing. It's rare they have to exert their power to right things, but they do under certain circumstances, if it's absolutely needed for the stability of the universe.'' Rosemary cast a look at Sonja, who was stood in the corner, on guard duty, ''No fire elementals of her power, and you have no stars. No heat to create those stars. No heat to stay warm. No sparks to light fires. Fuel would not ignite. Life all over would slowly die out, freezing and starving in the darkness. Even the lesser fire elementals would die out. You would not be able to use fire magic. It would simply cease to exist without her. Do you now understand who you picked a fight with? And on top of that, you took Lieutenant Commander Spears's hospitality and threw it back in his face, and mocked Major Shira and their crew.'' Rosemary said. She had made a psychic connection with Angelica, feeding her emotions and images to help her understand the scope of things. The feeling of being useless, berated and mocked by someone who could easily kill you. She showed her those dead stars in the Thymion Void that would not reignite, not until the remaining stars within the Empire had died, creating a planetary nebula, in which more stars would be born from the heat of their ancestor's death. Birth and rebirth on a cosmic scale, and a fierce defender of her friends and family. That was what Sonja was.

Angelica looked at the red dragoness, playing through the fight in her mind again. Or attempted fight. Sonja had been so immense in size and power that she had simply absorbed everything Angelica had thrown at her. With Rosemary's help, that psychic connection, Angelica was starting to understand, an icy knot forming in her stomach as she realized that now she was no longer on thin ice, but had fallen through into the dark, unforgiving depths below. She looked back at Rosemary, stubbornness still writ plainly on her face. She would not be swayed from her course, no matter what. She was the Empress of Thymion and her will was law.

''I need to get the Hope freed.'' She said simply. ''We don't need these fools to help us.''

''I thought help is why you were out here in the first place? Wasn't that the reason you practically commandeered someone else's ship?'' Rosemary asked blandly, ''As for the Hope, she's in no condition to set sail, let alone fight her way free. The Synths are psy-immune and the drives are shot and need some major TLC before they can be fired up again. And if we are allowed to get anywhere near the ship to do that, I'm quite certain the Synths won't let her leave intact. The walls of the hangar are made up of millions of little octagonal pieces of crystal. I have the feeling they're prone to using directed sound waves or some such to shake things to pieces.''

Angelica shook her head, ''This ship might be bigger than us, but we're faster and have better stealth-''

Rosemary's grip tightened around Angelica's hands, squeezing hard enough to hurt. Her expression was frightening and she was in no mood to argue, Angelica's temper be damned, ''Cut the crap, Angel. We didn't see the Watchful Eye, we didn't sense it, didn't pick it up on our sensors. It just turned up, beat us into submission and swallowed us whole! We are fucked if we attempt anything like that! And we do not have the luxury of backup! Our comms are blocked, our drives are fried and Billy is trying to sweet-talk Fleet Lord Sharna into releasing us under the condition that we sail for home and never return! And yet you're still spouting all this superiority bullshit like it's going to keep us alive! Well it's not. We want to explore the galaxy, to learn about these people and all you want to do is destroy them. Do you want to kill us, too? Those that love and care for you? Those that have been through hell and back for you? Well?''

Angelica looked stricken. She didn't know what to make of the sudden angry tirade that had spilled forth from her friend. Rosemary looked furious, scared, even.

And it's us that have been burning bridges, Empress? Marsh's voice slinked into the back of her mind.

Angelica snatched her hands free of Rosemary's grip and whirled on him, hands outstretched with a roar. But nothing happened. There was no surge of terrible, world ending power, it just butted up against the Psy-Suppressor and dissipated like storm clouds. He stood there, in the corner by the door, arms folded casually across his chest whilst Sonja watched silently, her expression bland. She wanted to cry, to rage, to hit something. But Rosemary's presence kept the storm at bay.

''You are too easily provoked, my Angel. He is right. You're burning bridges, not building them. Mister Spears came to visit me to, of all things, apologize for putting us into this situation. I waved him off. He did what was needed to be done to avoid another devastating war and to keep his people safe.'' Images of news reports filtered into Angelica's mind.

A giant blockade surrounding a planet cramped with people; giant allied warships drifting, broken, through the black; worlds burning, refugees huddled, terrified in the meagre shelter of a dilapidated space station waiting to be taken to safety as war raged on beyond the hull, creeping ever closer to them. Sterwil Federation ships comprised of various different races forging ahead with defending a busy trade hub. It was a terrible mess. Angelica tried to shy away from the bitter truth, but Rosemary pressed on. The death toll was outrageous, unwarranted and for what? So that one, insignificant group of people could strip-mine an already inhabited world.

''Remind you of something?'' Rosemary said gently, a sad smile playing at her lips. ''They were involved too.''

''We lost half our fleet and thousands of good people to one of the Connaru's ambushes. Half of the refugee ships they were tasked with protecting were destroyed in the fight, also.'' Sonja said. Her tone was devoid of emotion, but the look in her eyes spoke volumes. ''Thirty years on, our company is still rebuilding their forces.''

''We are not the only ones who have suffered. It turns out that the GC did send us aid after they realised the lies they had been told. But at the time, they themselves were fighting for survival.'' Rosemary said softly, ''All those people that came into our system...''

''Then why... '' Angel started, only for Rose to put a finger on her lips.

''Because Mariana as well as most of our species were and are pacifists. Oh yes we have the power. A single ship of Thymion wolves could have tipped the scale easily. But peaceful existence was our way sweetheart. You were the first in over a billion years to use our magic for combat. Though that is our fault. No one went with you to watch over you, to guide you and your twin sister. You grew among uncivilized settings.''

Angel snorted at the mention of Mariana's name. A loathing hatred boiled inside the wolfess as she looked aside, seething through her mind. Rose went to speak, but her mouth was clamped shut by Angel's paw. Then the white furred woman suddenly shivered and relaxed visibly. Sonja watched warily as the Wolfess turned her gaze on the dragoness. It was not anger, nor fear. It was a pure emotionless look. The look of a woman that was dead inside. The look of a woman that was going to do something incredibly stupid that would likely get her killed.

Then Angel released Rose's muzzle and spoke softly. The translator squealed, as if it were being set on fire. This dialect was impossible for it to comprehend. But Rose's expression was fearful now. She had pushed Angel too far, too fast. And something had broken inside her.

''Angel... My Grace no...'' She said before Angel silenced her with a shake of her head. Rosemary was left with little more to do other than accept the fact that she had just committed a very bad crime under Thymion law.

The white wolfess moved to Marsh and spoke so softly and politely that she seemed a different woman. ''I would speak to the Fleet Lord now. I believe I can barter for a suitable solution.'' The tone was like a computer, monotone and lifeless. Devoid of emotion or feeling, her words felt cold. Rosemary reached out and took Angel by the paw.

''Angel...'' she whispered softly. Angel turned a hollow gaze on Rose. The pearlescent facet of her eyes was gone. Just a dull, emotionless gaze was left. Sonja looked on, figuring the woman had either finally gotten it in her head just the kind of mess she had managed to create or she was just back to playing her game. But something about the way Rosemary was trying to keep hold of that paw bugged her. Rose was all but digging her claws into Angelica's wrist to keep hold of her. And that did not sit well with either Sonja or Marsh. She wondered if Rosemary had said something to her that had tipped her over the precipice into some sort of breakdown. She glanced at Clearwater who just shrugged; Not my problem.

Rose's mind grabbed at the Stalkers, begging them to put Angel back in the EHP and sedate her heavily. There was something was extremely wrong with the... toddler? Clearwater looked at Rose, fairly certain that it was a mistranslation or something. Marsh looked at Angel, curious, if a little unsettled, with the sudden change.

Nonetheless it was better, to a degree. Taking a chance to feel Angel's thoughts, Marsh found them completely blank. Not guarded at all, just blank. The Psy-Suppressor wasn't exerting any force and another shrug from Clearwater confirmed it. She was on autopilot now and the dawning of realization that settled in his mind butted obscurely at the edges of theirs. He had experienced this kind of thing before, generally when someone had been cornered and could find no way out but to capitulate to all demands made of them rather than take in the situation and work things out. Then they all noted the dip in her breathing. It was slowing down as was her heart rate. Was she calm or was she being damaged? That was the question they all wondered. Sonja glanced at Clearwater, whom was now looking at Angel closely, studying her from the other side of the room. She was in no distress, which meant it was either internal or self-induced. As Rosemary wasn't forthcoming with a good reason to put her back in the EHP, however, then it wouldn't be done. Those were for medical emergencies where death was openly imminent and the cubicle's passive medical scans was showing nothing distressing.

There was little said by the woman. Marsh realized it might be best to keep her close. That was when a stray thought crossed Angel's mind. Something she and Rosemary had spoken about privately in thought. Rose would fly again. But the moment she set foot on their home world, she would cut her own wings off. As was the custom for their people when a part of the body was injured so bad, which made no sense. It was barbaric in a way, when limb-regrowth and cybernetic implants were a common thing. Her wings would be healed, functional and ready for flight. Why cut them off? He dismissed it as cultural and religious differences. It was nothing to do with them and even he wasn't one to mock another's religion.

He let his mind stray a little more, gently insinuating his way deeper into her psyche. There was something lurking at the far reaches of Angelica's mind, a mote of thought that hadn't been smothered enough. Angel had struggled to pull her people out of the dark ages. Rosemary wanted to grovel and worship Sonja even though the Aspect had sworn her to secrecy about her identity, and the Synths were now almost like gods to these people. Marsh suppressed a laugh. The Synths were hardly gods, just lunatics with highly advanced tech and secretive, ship-building techniques.

Regardless of Thymion's grand technological advancements in such a short amount of time, they were still halfway buried in traditional values and rites, as those were things that were never truly shed by the passage of time. All the tech they had was still too new to them to register that they were not walking among the gods. That the gods as they thought them were just normal mortals, and the Thymion wolves were more god-like than the average galactic citizen. Angel was a child; leading blind adults through a maze of blinding lights. She grasped at straws, made threats and bargains, blew up stars if things didn't go her way as an intimidation tactic. It was all her limited imagination could grasp.

''I wish to speak with Fleet Lord Sharna.'' Angelica said.

''I'll go fetch a Synth guard. It's them you want to be talking to, not me.'' Marsh replied slowly, eyeing her up.