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After a slice of cake and a quiet thankyou to Michael's mother, Cibbie, Amanda and Terry headed back to their apartment. Michael had convinced a ship in orbit to allow Cibbie to point-to-point using their system, probably due to him being much higher in command, right on top. Cibbie quickly grabbed her towel, pulling it over her shoulder before picking Amanda up and taking her downstairs to the baths. Right now, all she wanted was to relax; there would be no space to get any time to herself when they were travelling back to her home planet, Nu'riché. After a short elevator trip, she arrived on the ground floor and made her way to the onsens. Quietly she stepped into the change-rooms, taking Amanda's collar off and folding it up in her towel, along with her own clothing, before putting the drake down and opening the doors. She sat in her usual spot without trouble, not noticing anything out of the ordinary until a familiar voice spoke up.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't realise you'd be coming in here!"

Cibbie flicked an eye open and looked at the person who had spoken wearily. A little paw tapped her on the head and gave an amused purring sound.

"It is quite alright, Miss Ironfall." Cibbie said, reaching behind her and lifting Snowball into her grasp. "You are welcome to enjoy the spring. The Reserved sign is simply to keep out unwanted strangers." Snowball protested against Cibbie's grasp, but she might as well have tried to stop a glacier; her synthetic hand giving her an amazing grip that even the prideful drake admitted defeat to. Cibbie hurled her over to where Amanda was swimming, managing to splash the younger drake when Snowball hit the water. The steam slightly receeded, giving Cibbie a better view of Sarah and she chuckled. "And males, at the moment."

Sarah nodded and waded closer, sitting as close as she dared to Cibbie.

"I... I just figured, what with you and I being aquainted and all..." She mumbled.

Cibbie raised a hand. "You need not explain yourself. As I said, the only ones not welcome are strangers and males for the time being."

Cibbie's ear twitched and she turned her head to see Faith step around the door. For a brief second she could have sworn she saw Silence, but the door closed too soon for her to be sure it was him. Faith, also, was undressed, and she cautiously made her way into the water. Snowball got in her way, and the grey female stopped, letting the drake swim past before continuing.

"Snowball, heel!" Sarah hissed. The drake unquestioningly complied, swimming up to her master and managing to sit on her lap, her head just above the water's surface.

"You need not worry about me tripping over her, Ms." Faith said, blindly stepping over to them, sitting next to Cibbie as if she could see her. "I'm blind, not deaf."

"Miss Ironfall, this is Faith Starbrook. She's a friend of mine. Her husband is probably around somewhere." Cibbie said, moving so that they could shake hands without brushing against her.

"Silence is finding another onsen to use currently." Faith said. "I heard you from outside say that males aren't welcome, and I put two and two together."

They chatted idly for a short while, their respective days, Cibbie's injury, and even cracking a few jokes at Silence's expense, despite him not being in the room. Amanda was having the time of her life, diving as deep as she dared and popping back up in seemingly random locations. Cibbie didn't notice her absence when she didn't resurface until Sarah pointed out Snowball's solitary swimming.

"It's not like her to wander far..." Cibbie mumbled. "Where could she have got to..?"

Faith sighed and closed her eyes, twitching an ear as if flicking away a fly, before standing up and wading to the small isle in the middle of the pool. She knelt down and, after a few moments, lifted Amanda from the water. Amanda seemed extremely relieved to have been discovered.

"You trapped your horn in the rock when you tried to resurface, didn't you?" Faith asked rhetorically. "Now you know to be more careful when swimming underwater, don't you?"

Amanda nodded, wrapping her tail around Faith's arm and licking her hand appreciatively. Faith let her down in the water, and the young drake swam over to Cibbie, where she practically threw herself into her chest. Cibbie flustered.

"Seems like she wants some attention from her mummy." Sarah giggled.

"Yes," Cibbie began, plucking the affectionate dragon from the water and teasing her playfully, "but if she's not careful, she'll hurt herself on my chest plate."

Faith giggled. "That's something not every princess can say."

Sara gave Faith a confused look. "'Princess'..?"

Cibbie nodded.

"Y-you're royalty?!" Sarah shrieked, standing up in a hurry. "I-I'm sorry, I'll go-"

She was cut off when Cibbie grabbed her hand and wrenched her back, succeeding in making the woman slip and fall under the water. She came back up not daring to look Cibbie in her eyes.

"Sarah, I'm just like everyone else only with a fancy title and a kingdom of no subjects." She growled.

"B-but..."

"I don't want your grovelling." Cibbie snapped. "As soon as I start being treated as royalty, I'll lose any time to be with my friends."

Sarah squeaked something, but Cibbie didn't hear exactly what she'd said.

"Have you ever met the Broodmother?" Cibbie asked, to which Sarah nodded.

"All Guild Drake owners need to be sanctioned by her." She informed. "If she doesn't think us worthy, we don't get in."

"And did you treat her like someone of high social stature?"

Sarah blinked. "Well, no." She admitted. "She's just a dragoness."

"And yet she births armies of drakes a year and could squash you flat. Did you call her by her name, or by title? Did you look her in her eyes?" Cibbie smiled faintly. "I'm sure she'd love a visit from one of her daughters."

Sarah seemed to contemplate this.

"Sha'any is quite fond of guests." Faith said faintly.

Cibbie shrugged and reclined back in the water; though she spent a fair amount of time in here, she always found it so very relaxing. There was a faint knocking at the door, and Terry dawdled in. Sarah squeaked and ducked down in the water to her chin, while Cibbie sighed.

"Sarah, there's nothing he could do with knowledge of what you look like with no clothes on." She said. "That's Terry, he's my P.R.A." She looked over to Terry and nodded at him. "Not too close, alright?"

"Yes miss." He dutifully replied, standing on the other side of the bath.

"What's up?" She asked him.

Terry shifted and put his hands on his hips. "General Starfury is waiting in our hotel room." He said. "He's updated our schedule, you are to have a meeting with a reporter before we leave for Nu'riché. Something about repairing your public image, he said."

Cibbie blinked. "Sarah, what is my current public image..?"

The human pretended to tug at her collar. "You're about as popular as a skunk;" she said, "a dead, fetid, horribly rotten skunk. The only reason you've not been swarmed by mobs of civilians with intent to kill is your bodyguard and General Starfury."

"I can understand fearing Michael, but why Flare..?"

"Fearing the Kinslayer is like fearing a hungry shark." Sarah remarked. "He's very notorious. Not to mention that, as a royal bodyguard, he's legally allowed to kill anyone who attempts to harm you."

"He's used that privilege to its full extent." Cibbie grumbled sarcastically. "And what if I don't want to do this interview?"

"The general said that if you don't go, you don't go." Terry replied.

"He's grounding you until you do it." Sarah sighed. "That sounds like the General Starfury I know."

"Did he give the time of departure?" Cibbie asked.

"Your flight leaves the day after tomorrow at twelve hundred hours. Quarters have been provided for you on the ship, with Mr. Wingspan's being next door. Your brother is being bunked with him."

Cibbie sighed again. "Alright, Terry; thankyou for notifying me."

"Of course miss." He replied, before strolling back to the door. "I have left clean clothes for you to return to our room in. Dinner will be cooked soon."

After a quiet moment or two, Sarah plucked up the courage to break the silence.

"You've certainly got him well trained." She said. "I've yet to meet a man who can cook."

Cibbie laughed. "Anything is possible." She stated. "Maybe you'll find Mr. Right some day." Sarah nodded her agreement. "And he'll be a chef in some fancy restaurant that he'll never take you to for fear that you'll upset his co-workers."

The rest of the afternoon passed smoothly. Amanda didn't pick the medicine that Melissa had instructed Cibbie give her out of her food, Flare was being his usual broody self, and Brenton had shared a meal with her before heading off to his own apartment, three floors up. Michael had instructed her on the meeting with the reporter, telling her to be careful with what she said, as they were likely to edit the film to match public expectations. Flare, and himself, would be present, and she was to wear a new dress that he'd had bought for her by Terry. She didn't like the sound of this, but he assured that a more regal appearance would help her plead her case.

"Do we know who the reporter they're sending is?" Cibbie had asked, to which Michael grimaced.

"You're... not going to like it." He mumbled. "They've got it into their heads that it'd be a good idea to send Angela Red."

Cibbie growled.

"Settle down, kid, you'll stress yourself." Michael said dismissively. "That's why Flare and I are going to be in the room with you. Flare will be more than intimidating enough to ensure she behaves herself, and I'll be the controlling force on what she can and cannot ask. I sent an email to her supervisor to warn her to stay within limitations she knows she's bound within."

"I still don't feel comfortable with her being there." Cibbie grumbled.

"I know you don't." Michael said. "But we've taken every liberty bar one, and if we go that far then she'll not interview you out of fear."

Now she was curious. "And what is this... liberty?" She pressed, getting Michael to grumble.

"Having Hazard listening in on the interview." He said. "Don't fret about that, though; just remember to keep calm, give her nothing that she can use against you. Don't even show a flicker of anger; if she probes into a topic that you are uncomfortable with, or she offends you in some way, you have every right to stand up and walk out and she won't be able to do a damned thing about it."

After a night of sleep and a hearty breakfast, Cibbie spent the morning playing with Amanda; throwing a small yet hardy rubber ball across the room only to have her return it and expect it to be thrown again, tickling her until she snapped at Cibbie's fingers... It wasn't until about half past ten that Terry helped her get into her new dress.

A note in the dress bag said that it was a classic royal Archethalian design with a corset to help her body conform to the expected shape of a healthy young woman. It was purples and cheery yellows, fitting her usual scheme of colours, with large red rubies, or at least very good fakes, embedded on the shoulders and one on the chest in the centre of a flower-like decoration. A small flower brooch was just above this on the middle of her collar, and the dress, while flowing to the ground, had enough frill to make her dislike it. She wore elbow-length gloves with little bows at the elbows, and what she thought looked like a pair of saddlebags turned out to be golden clips that held the dress together. Clearly the tailor had foreseen her discomfort at this entire ensemble, and had ensured that she had a pair of shorts that she could wear underneath. Terry finished dressing her up by tying a new bow to the end of her freshly brushed and plaited hair, a satin ribbon of purple that she liked more than the rest of her dress, mainly because it was so smooth a fabric.

Michael and Flare met her outside her apartment, Flare now in a black formal suit and black shirt with a bright red tie, and Michael in his formal armour. They complimented her on her dress, a complement that she dejected as much as she dejected their eventual destination. Flare moved into her apartment and came out with Amanda in his hands before locking the door and tucking the key card away in his breast pocket. Cibbie gave him a confused look.

"Trust me; a small cute animal can make all the difference with the public audience." Flare said, handing Amanda to Cibbie gently. The young drake crawled up to one of her shoulders and wrapped her tail around Cibbie's neck to keep her grip.

"Alright, we're going downstairs to the ball room on the ground floor." Michael said, starting to pace towards the elevators. "Come along, Angela will try and make it worse and worse for every moment we leave her waiting, despite what we've done to her in the past."

They moved into the first available elevator, and Michael expressed it to the ground floor, where they walked around the spiral staircase and into the ball room. This room was large, and had a hardwood floor and stage. Curtains had been put up over the windows, currently open, which were red with gold edging and of heavy crushed velvet. A potted plant sat in each corner, large ferns that accented the room well, and another door was in a far wall, presumably to the party kitchens. A few chairs were set up, and there were lighting and sound equipment all about. Angela sat in one of the three chairs, and she stood when Cibbie entered the room, following Michael. Flare entered after her and closed the door before checking the room over, inspecting through the far door, before returning to Cibbie's side.

"Your Majesty," Angela began, bowing courteously and holding out a hand, "thank you for taking the time to meet with me."

Cibbie reluctantly shook the canine's hand.

"Yes, well;" Michael grumbled, "you know the circumstances of this." He said firmly. "If she wants to abandon this at any time, she will."

"Of course, of course," Angela said, leading them to the chairs, "please, sit. I trust that your guard needs no seat?"

"I would prefer to stand." Flare said, but Angela seemed to not hear him.

"He'll be fine without a seat." Michael said. "His reaction time will be higher if he doesn't need to add standing up to his list of priorities."

Cibbie sat at a chair, the others waiting for her to be seated before sitting themselves, and Angela took out a notepad.

"I think we should start with the basics," she said, "to warm you up to the cameras better." She looked at the camera and said an intro, allowing for Cibbie to understand the pacing she was being set. "So, your highness, how have you settled into Earthen society?"

Cibbie relaxed a little, she'd been sitting stiff-backed and thought that this would be far more formal than Angela had set it. "Comfortably." She stated. "I had a rather rocky start, what with my... special attributes, but I've managed to eke out a fairly good life. It was a bit of a shock when, on my first morning on Earth, I was met by practically every dignitary that the Earth Alliance Treaties could throw at me, but I've not been made to socialise with them on a regular basis. I'm not exactly fond of being treated like I'm made of glass or some rare valuable metal. Though typically my position as royalty should hold some reverence, I'd rather a more comfortable and laid back approach to life."

"And how long have you had your young drake for Ma'am?"

Cibbie reached up and gently scratched Amanda behind an ear, making her purr. "Oh, about a month or so; she's quite energetic for a drake."

"Though she's not exactly of common drake appearance?"

Cibbie smiled. "She's different, so what? We all share common differences, I adore her for her personality and cute charm, not because she's somewhat of an outcast compared to other drakes, she gets along quite fine with them, if I say so myself."

Angela nodded faintly, wishing to get off the subject of the young drake after what had happened last time they met. She noted that Cibbie was taking short, sharp breaths, and her look became slightly worried.

"Are you feeling alright, Miss Heritance?" She asked. "Are you having trouble breathing..? I could call in someone with medical training and we can cut it short for a while?"

Cibbie shook her head. "I'm wearing a corset that is constricting my figure." She huffed. "It is bearable."

"Are you sure?" Michael asked earnestly.

"I am fine, please don't fuss over me."

Angela seemed to be thinking this over. "Why the corset..?" She asked. "You seem to have a perfectly fine figure?"

Cibbie gave a lopsided frown. "The... technology that is embedded in my chest," she began, "the way it is inserted is rather extensive."

"Are you able to elaborate?" Angela asked.

Cibbie thought for a moment, unsure how she'd managed to so casually recall this. "The first thing they do is bore a hole through the ribcage." She said, tapping between her breasts where the faint glow of her plate could be seen. "Then they split they ribcage open, cutting it open entirely. The communication device is then implanted, attached to the victim's central nervous system, and the ribcage is forced to close around it. There's a gap, about half an inch wide, along the middle of the ribcage which is sealed with a pair of metallic plates which serve to hold the ribcage closed." She put her hand back in her lap and took another few breaths. "The corset I'm wearing is trying to squeeze that gap closed, compressing my ribs and making it harder for me to breathe."

"I apologise for pressing the subject." Angela said. "On a more serious topic though; we have a viewer who wanted to know why you chose Mr. Wingspan as your bodyguard."

"He wasn't so much chosen, rather selected for me by General Starfury." Cibbie commented. "Though I don't think I could have chosen someone as colourful a character myself, he's certainly got an interesting background."

"How can you trust him, though?" Angela asked. "After all, he is known as the Kinslayer, the man who single-handedly killed three dozen of his own allied troops; how do you trust him with his past?"

Cibbie gave Angela a glare, as if daring her to continue. Behind her, Flare shifted uncomfortably.

"I can trust him because I know his past." She said. "Few others have the privilege, and I am not at liberty to discuss them, nor would I if I were."

Angela nodded, taking the hidden warning and changing the subject. "Lastly, what are your goals?"

Cibbie blinked and thought. "I... hadn't thought too long term for myself." She said. "I've a people to attempt to repopulate." She sighed and gave a saddened look. "I'm of the last of my kind outside of Polaris control. Though my personal goals and aims are important to me, as a leader I need to think of my species first. I don't need money or compassion, I don't need shelter or someone to give me cuddles when it's cold, all I need is to be let well enough alone. I made the trek to my foster family yesterday down in Australia and almost died along the way due to civilians attempting to assassinate me; royalty with but one blood relative left in the universe. I ask your viewers: how would they like it?"

Angela nodded faintly. "I apologise for getting you into such a sombre topic." She said earnestly, before turning her attention to Michael. "Now, if I might, General Starfury, what interest does the Guild actually have in recruiting Highness Sybil?"

"Initially I had intended to do as her father, his Majesty Judas Heritance, once asked and look after her as best I could should something happen to him and his wife, the late Highness Lulubelle. After spending a day with her, I decided that she needed more than just a job that she could keep her life afloat with, and subsequently adopted her into my rather extended family to give her the added support should she require it."

"What position has she been offered within the Guild?"

Michael shuffled his feet. "I offered her a safe position in headquarters." He said. "She'll be working as my bodyguard, but if I ever get into a situation when a bodyguard is truly required, she'll be with me behind my desk, and I'll be protecting her as much as she'll be protecting me to the bitter end."

Angela seemed to consider this grimly. "Alright... And what is the Dozen's interest in her, if any?"

Flare shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, and Michael, ever the diplomat, leaned forward.

"You know as well as every other reporter out there that not only is anything the Dozen do confidential, but something that cannot be discussed until the time is right. There are many rumours floating around about what we are and what we do, and until we feel comfortable coming forth and revealing ourselves, the rumours can continue to circulate. I may be the only public part of the Dozen, but don't think for a moment that I'm the only eyes and ears we have." He sat back in the chair and crossed his arms. "And that is all I can, and ever, say on the matter."

Cibbie stood up, prompting Michael to follow suit.

"One last thing before you go;" Angela quickly began, "Highness Sybil, what is your relationship with Sha'any Wingspan, the current Broodmother?"

This question seemed to irritate Flare somewhat, and Cibbie only chuckled. "She's the mother of young Amanda, the sister of my bodyguard, and a confidante I can trust explicitly." She said. "For a dragoness the size of a building, she's a remarkably soft soul; possibly owing to her being a mother so many times over. If you can gain the trust of the Broodmother, in my opinion, you have nothing left to fear." She gave a polite curtsey to Angela. "Now, Miss Red, if there is nothing else, I would like to return to my room. I thank you for your time, and hope that it has not been spent in vain.

They walked out of the ballroom and to the elevators; once the doors closed, Cibbie threw herself against the wall, hand to her chest, and exhaled, her excessive speed and exhalation emphasised the sarcasm she meant.

"Well that went better than I thought it would." She said. "I half expected her to ask me to present my chest." She gave a lopsided frown.

Michael laughed. "Reporters have taken a much more reserved attitude in these kinds of interviews after something that happened with King Henry IX of England about twenty years ago." He tugged Cibbie into a one-armed hug and waved a hand in front of himself as if showing her something wide. "Imagine, a Royal being told that he's overdressed when his family run very heavily with tradition. In terms of insult, it was like slapping his face with the body of his dead mother."

Cibbie gave a nervous giggle. "Now all that's left is to pack Amanda's things for when we leave tomorrow." She said, giving the drake, still coiled around her neck like a scarf, a scratch behind her ear. Amanda cooed gently and nuzzled Cibbie's face with her cheek. She shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. "Can't say I won't be happy to be out of this damned corset," she grumbled, "I have no idea who came up with it, but goddamn did they try to make the most uncomfortable piece of clothing ever." She pushed one of her breasts slightly to the side. "Too tight I think..." She gave a lopsided frown.

Michael chuckled. "No, it's meant to be this tight." He said, shifting some of her dress to see the laces. "Here, I'll loosen it a bit for you; you're going to be out of it soon enough, but I'd rather you get to your apartment without suffocating; less paperwork that way."

Cibbie inhaled as the laces on her corset were loosened, and the doors opened to her floor.

The boys led her to her apartment, and she entered after bidding them a good day. She closed the door behind herself and grabbed Terry as she passed, throwing him onto the bed gently and sitting down.

"Get me out of this, will you?" She said to the miniature android. "It's a death-trap."

Terry complied, and assisted her in removing the formal dress. There was a knock at her bedroom door halfway through, just after she'd managed to finally get down to her undergarments, and she squealed and pulled the bed sheets about herself.

"What? Who is it?"

"It's only me, Highness." Fortune's voice called. "My father sent me in to talk with you about your next appointment. Might I come in? Are you decent?"

Cibbie exhaled in relief. "I'm not decent at the moment." She said back. "Give me a moment to change into my preferred clothes."

Only silence greeted her ears from the other side of the door, so she figured that Fortune was granting her privacy. She hurriedly moved to the closet and opened the drawers, looking for her usual armoured clothes, tugging them on quickly and zipping her jacket up, forcing her wallet into a pocket and clicking her knuckles carefully.

"Alright, I'm decent." She said sitting on the bed and changing her arm back into a gun. She ran a micro fibre cloth over the metal, getting sheen in its wake. Fortune stepped in, wearing her tight uniform. It looked like leather, and it conformed to her body perfectly.

"General Starfury, my father, your brother and I are to accompany you to meet up with Commander Jay and Special Unit Seventeen; our first mission, to your home planet, is predicted to be dangerous, even for us synthetics, and we are to personally meet a new addition to our ranks." Fortune said, folding her arms behind her back.

Cibbie nodded, standing. "Alright." She said. "Do we have a name for this new recruit?"

Fortune shook her head. "All I've been told is a codename, Special Unit Alpha."

Cibbie sighed and stood, tucking the cloth into a pocket. "Terry, could you pack my things whilst I'm out for our flight tomorrow? Be sure to charge yourself should I not be back before twelve."

"Certainly, Miss." Terry responded automatically. "Is there anything unique we will be requiring?"

"Everything except what the hotel provides." Fortune said. "We have soaps, shampoos and laundry on board the HGS Fairbank." She shifted a little. "Your current outfit is to be your uniform, to discern you from our enemy correctly; however you will be provided with exercise skivvies that you will be asked to wear to training."

Terry nodded. "Shall I pack Amanda's things also?"

"Yes," Fortune replied, "this apartment will no longer be your quarters, you're being moved to private quarters on the Fairbank, and from there we will be moving you to private quarters in the Drake wing of the barracks in Guild HQ."

Terry shifted. "The shifting in her bedding, bowls, litter box and environment may upset her, but with her age, she should adjust easily. Make sure you are around her often and take her for plenty of walks while on the ship. I trust there are facilities for the removal of a Drake's litter box?"

"Should be." Michael said from the door. "They have a drake formation on board should we need the firepower." He moved in and put his hands on Fortune's shoulders. "I asked you to bring her out, not delay her in idle conversation."

Fortune shrugged.

"I'm coming, keep your pants on." Cibbie said, moving towards them. "You'd look like an idiot with them around your ankles anyway."

Half an hour later, and they had collected Pride from his den. They were escorted to another large room in the same facility as Pride's, and asked to wait inside the room. The room was large, with a large box in the middle, lying longwise from them. Cables fed from this machine across the floor and into a distant wall. Other than a control panel near where they were standing and a pair of individuals at the controls, the room was bare. One of the two at the panel turned and paced towards them, a large Highborn with a crest several times larger than the ones that Cibbie could remember seeing on those she'd met already, and she held her hand out.

"Hello, I'm Anisha Huluect, eldest Crest of the Highborn." She said politely, shaking their hands until she got to Pride and tugging him into a hug. "Greetings again, my old friend; it has been many seasons since I last saw you."

"Good afternoon, Anisha." Pride returned. "I have missed your company."

Anisha nodded, breaking from the embrace and moving back toward the console. "Give me a minute; we were just initialising the energy catalysts." She said. "I'd suggest not moving towards the chamber, especially you, Pride."

Pride nodded, and Anisha tapped several buttons. A buzzing started, and the cables along the floor glowed gently.

"Energy flow nominal, prioritise grounding." Anisha snapped. "We need to get this right, we have only one chance."

"Anisha, there's a flowback, energy is being drawn from Unit Alpha." The other scientist said worriedly. "Attempts to compensate are failing."

"Activate the pulse!" Anisha yelled. "This could be exactly what is supposed to happen!"

There was a bass thud, reminiscent of an explosion, and the cables glowed brighter.

"Energy is still being drawn from the chamber, we're losing the experiment!"

Pride moved closer to the chamber, coiling his tails around the cables and looking to Anisha. "I will control the flow in the right direction." He said firmly. "Prepare whatever you need to control other than that!"

The vein in Pride's tail shone an eerie purple, and the cables seemed to follow the glow. He flinched for a moment before seeming to gain control. The two at the controls hit buttons and flicked switches, and another bass thud echoed through the room. Pride twitched.

"That was a very large amount of energy to send at once." He said across the room idly.

"It wasn't enough!" Anisha snapped. "We need a bigger pulse, at least another twenty terajoules in magnitude!"

"Very well." Pride said. His red core shone brightly before dulling, the pulse flowing down his tail and into the cables.

"That got it," Anisha informed, "systems show that we've accomplished what we needed for reaction, we're detecting what we need; releasing energy clamps, discontinuing flow. You can release it now, Pride."

Pride released the cables and moved back to the others, crossing his arms as he turned to face the chamber.

"Release the chamber clamps, open the lid." Anisha said, being answered with a loud series of clicks. The top panel of the chamber slid open, and a figure rose from the mist that poured out.

Her skin was orange, and her ears were oddly curved on the undersides. She featured a muzzle and sparkling purple eyes with blue, dreadlocked hair. She looked about the room before her eyes snapped on Pride, who rushed over at her noticing him and pulled her from the chamber in a tight embrace.

"Sharp! I cannot believe you're safe!" He said, choking back tears. "I've missed you so much!"

The orange figure only nodded, pushing her head into his shoulder and starting to cry.

"And I have missed you." She mumbled.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't save you." Pride huffed, putting one of his hands on the back of her head. "You went through so much, I'm so sorry for the hell you went through. There was too much pain, too much sadness. You were too alone..."

"You'd not believe the amount of political red tape I had to cut to get her." Anisha said. "Our Admirals were adamant that she was destroyed, but I had too much evidence otherwise. Eventually they gave up and handed her over, there are few amongst the Highborn who would deny me, the eldest Crest alive."

"I'm so sorry it took all these years, Sharp; but I'm here now. I won't let you go again, Sharp.

Never let you go."