“The Firmament.” Copperfield gaped across the table at Heath. “That Firmament.”

  “You know of another?” Emerald had taken the news with the same shock as the rest of the crew, but had come around to the fatalistic view that people this rich simply had no upper limit on the shocking things they might pull from nowhere. Something they were quick to point out every time the conversation looped back around.

  “But still. The Firmament?”

  Heath agreed with the Corsair’s assessment. A secret noble gauntlet in one of the most dangerous places in the Universe. They were living every childhood dream and parental nightmare from across the Empire. “Yes. Probably. How’s it looking Jenny Mae?”

  After his own thorough reading in Lord Althalas’s study, and a few tweaks to the wording, he had taken his copy of the contract back for his Aide-de-Camp’s review. She had already compiled a list of suggested changes that was reaching the length of a novella.

  “Yes,” she said. “There are changes needed, but we’ll be going to the Firmament.”

  “Fuck,” Copperfield said.

  Heath could only nod in dazed agreement.

  Ekaterina sniffed from the corner she had taken over upon their return to the Loon. Heath had been unwilling to fully commit without the ship’s input. “It is not so special.”

  That got even Jenny Mae to pause in her review. They stared at the woman who had just proclaimed the chance of ten lifetimes as ‘not that special’.

  “Yes it fucking is,” Copperfield exploded.

  “We will get there eventually. This is just another way for Father to control me.”

  “You’re saying,” Copperfield said, slowly enunciating each word, “that we,” he gestured around the bridge, “are being asked to represent your entire House in a weird, noble one-up contest, in the Firmament, training with the Knight Guard, all so that your dad has a little leverage?”

  “He is centuries old. Such politics are second nature to him. And it does not have to be a direct blood member of the House each time. It occurs every 25 years, Mother and Father do not have children quite so frequently.”

  “Crewmember Ekaterina makes a good point. This is a treacherous path you insist on taking. While you discussed, I have accessed the limited records the Althalas family has made available to us on the history of this particular event.” The Loon had been fretting since they returned. A connection to Heath told her they were okay, but not much else, unless he wanted to make it obvious that his [Ship Merge] skill was special. “People die in this trial. Every time. In fact, there are only two examples where this was not the case, and such years were remarked upon as being both unprecedented and underwhelming.”

  “I don’t think that’s the point she was making,” Emerald corrected.

  Heath carefully did not voice his agreement out loud. Ekaterina seemed more offended than worried about safety. Glory and advancing at all costs was more her style. Which made the petulance all the more confusing. If anything, she should have been arguing that they demand to go to the Firmament as part of the payment for the condenser.

  “The risks are not to be discarded out of hand. I will not even be able to accompany you.”

  That was the real problem at the heart of the Loon’s objections. Most dungeons, at least those at a level the crew could handle, were not large enough for the ship to enter, let alone maneuver. But there was little to be done. “You’ll still be with us, just not in the delves. The same way we’ve been used to.”

  The Loon projected the sound of a sniff, a perfect copy of Ekaterina’s earlier objection, but made no further arguments. That didn’t mean Heath couldn’t feel them festering, mustering forces for when his guard was down.

  “We need the help,” Heath said. Again. He’d explained the deal already. “This was the price. And it’s not like the chance to level, learn from a Knight, and pick up dungeon rewards is exactly a hardship. If anything, I bet there are members of the Althalas House that would pay anything for the chance.” Viktor, the unpleasant cousin, came to mind.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Emerald said. “Noble’s always have an extra secret. If they’re sending us in you can bet there’s an angle. Maybe old Lord Althalas is hoping cousin Viktor gets rid of the pesky pirates while we’re here training.”

  Ekaterina rolled her eyes. “You will not need to worry about being eliminated, not now that my father’s will has been made known.”

  Heath eyed Ekaterina. He suspected the angle was far more straightforward. She hadn’t wanted to do it, and her father had found a way to make it happen. As they sat with the results more and more, Heath was convinced that he had been played, and this was the outcome Lord Althalas had sought all along. He couldn’t muster up any anger for the fact. It was going to be difficult, but it kept the crew together, kept the Loon safe, and freed up their options.

  They could sacrifice one year for the assurance of a limitless future.

  ***********

  This time, when invited to meet with his lordship, Heath put on the fancy outfit. With the assistance of a Valet, it had only taken twenty minutes. Then another twenty to get his hair into a state the woman had deemed “acceptable”. The rest of his crew had been given the same treatment.

  He could grudgingly admit they looked good. Polished. Rich.They wore the same coats his mother had crafted, with the subtle nods to the Loon and their individual classes. The Althalas servants had taken the theme and run with it. Their many layers were all coordinating in color schemes without looking like they matched, or that they were fully copying the Loon’s design. Whites and blacks, carefully placed amidst a palette of greens, blues, purples, all with golden accents. And somehow the Servants had found a way to honor each of their classes. Copperfield looked like a pirate, in some ineffable way, contrasting with the near-cliche he had presented on his first meeting. Jenny Mae’s suit was cut in a nod to military uniforms worn by most with the Aide-de-Camp Class.

  They must have struggled with Emerald, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at the Arcane Skirmisher. The many layers of near-translucent fabric softened their edges, making them blur into their surroundings, like the old spacer could vanish into the background at any moment.

  And Ekaterina looked normal. For her. Which perhaps said something about the usual contrast she presented next to the rest of them.

  Once they were deemed acceptable, the Valet vanished, swiftly replaced by their usual Underbutler, Noborov. Even he looked fancier than usual, an impressive feat as the uniform was identical to the previous times Heath had seen the man. On a closer inspection, the cut and color were the same, but the quality of fabric was a step above the previous iterations. The Althalas clan knew how to treat an honored guest.

  They marched off to battle as they always did, as a team. Though in this instance, Heath led. He hoped they wouldn’t turn out to regret not putting Copperfield in a mech suit out front instead.

  Today they met with Lorenzo Estefan, Esquire. Rank 6 Advocate and their major hope for the future.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  The group was ushered back to the visitor’s entrance, where the Loon was enjoying the luxury accommodations on one of the self-contained landing pads. Their destination was made obvious by the perfect lines of immaculate Servants along either side of the exit. Not even a fraction of the estate’s workforce, but the highest ranking and most influential members. From Heath’s senses, each one of them was at least rank two.

  At the front of the impressive display stood Lord and Lady Althalas. Draped in their own finery, they were every inch the perfect aristocrats. With them were what he assumed was a crowd of other members of the clan, most of which spared the time to glare down at the Rim crew for daring to breathe the same air. Heath and his crew were directed to a place of honor behind them, which he took up with the grim knowledge that he was soon to be the center of attention.

  Silence reigned across the mountainside. No one moved. No one spoke. Heath felt the instinct to fidget rise up inside him like an inevitable tide. He fought back the urge to yell, just to break the moment. Before he could make a fool of himself, a thrum rattled in the back of his ears.

  A sound he was not as used to, spending most of his time in space, but one his Captain’s class couldn’t miss. The in-atmo echo of a ship’s engine. And not just any ship, to be able to feel it from this far off, the amount of warped space the engine was supporting would be impressive. Heath scanned the skies until he spotted what he was looking for.

  He was right.

  Sleek and powerful, the Roc-class personal liner was a pleasure yacht that was built to balance speed and comfort. A fact Heath only knew only from rumors. There were less than two hundred of the ships in the entire Empire. His political education must have been coming along, because even he recognized the blatant display for what it was. For all the Althalas clan had power, influence, and most importantly, money, this man was not going to bend to them.

  Heath pinged the Loon with [Ship Merge] and received the bite of jealousy mixed with wistful admiration in return. The Loon wanted to be that impressive to observers when she landed somewhere. He sent back reassurance. They would get there. Eventually. There might be a few hundred Rocs but there was only one Loon.

  The Roc landed, the main body hidden behind the protective walls of the designated platform. Heath’s nose tickled with the familiar scent of engine exhaust, the faint blend of sweet and sour a comfort amidst the insanity of the moment.

  With the arrival imminent, Heath risked breaking formation to glance around. Though no one moved, they all managed to look more impressive, standing up straighter. Each the perfect example of their Class. Heath emulated them, throwing his shoulders back and lifting his chin. If he could negotiate with the Frost God, he could handle one lawyer.

  His conviction was immediately put to the test. Even as the barrier dome flickered into place above the ship, a man strode out through the doorway. He was short. Bronze skin and sable hair coiffed so perfectly Heath had to wonder if it was a skill. Then he took another step and Heath felt the man’s aura slam into him. Only locked knees kept him from retreating. Beside him, the rest of his crew was in the same situation, the passive feedback from [Crew Sense] letting him feel the small adjustments each made to look unaffected.

  It didn’t matter. Lorenzo sailed past them without a glance, walking back up towards the house with Lord and Lady Althalas, who had turned to accompany him without any discussion. A gentle tug of mana as the high ranks walked by let Heath know they were supposed to follow.

  Like an obedient little lapdog, he did. He started a mental list of the pretentious actions that were part of the whole charade. It would be something to do as they were shuffled around over the course of the day. They could have just told him and his crew what to do, but that would ruin the illusion. So they were prodded along like show ponies.

  The familiar teleportation circle was ready and waiting as they crowded into the center. After a brief activation, Heath found himself not in the visitor’s arrival area, but another room entirely. One he hadn’t been shown on any of the tours or found in their independent wandering so far.

  Like the entire estate, it could be summed up as massive and designed to impress. Did a small private meeting really require panoramic views across the entire horizon, ensconced as they were near yet another mountain peak? No, it did not. Heath was a little terrified at the obvious Class-based engineering. There were no visible supports, or interruptions in the window, giving the impression that the top of a mountain was floating above their heads.

  Beside him, his crew – minus Ekaterina, who did a remarkable job of appearing unaffected – were frozen in the kind of way that said they were very consciously not gaping like tourists. The table in the center of the room only had three seats, which the high ranked Classers had taken before Heath had finished examining the view.

  “Your message said you had something interesting. Tell me.” The Advocate spoke in clipped, quick tones, like he didn’t want to waste the time to speak at a normal cadence. He was also fearless. Heath might eventually reach rank six, if he was diligent, focused, and lucky. But he was under no illusions that even were he that strong, he would be willing to speak to Lord Althalas in such a way.

  “Thank you for coming.” If the Lord in question was offended, he didn’t show it. “We do have something of an interesting legal puzzle for you.”

  A noise of impatience came from the man, accompanied by a gesture as though he could pull the story out of Lord Althalas if he focused hard enough.

  Aleksandr smiled, like he wasn’t being insulted in his own home, and explained the scenario. “We need you to get charges of piracy overturned, on grounds of existential threat.”

  A single immaculate eyebrow rose on Lorenzo’s face. “That precedent has never been invoked. We are a spacefaring civilization, there are no exceptions for piracy.”

  “But there was, once.” Lady Althalas beamed at her guest. Heath felt another spark of annoyance. They played as though it was all a fun thought-exercise and not Heath’s life.

  “Once,” Lorenzo bit out. “No one has been stupid enough to make the argument since. It flies in the face of Carents v Saron, not to mention the Vasper Decision.”

  “A fantastic challenge, I’m sure,” Lady Althalas continued. “It must be hard to find those at your level.” Her smile turned sympathetic. “I’ve always felt us combat Classers had it easy. There’s always something else to fight.”

  Heath caught his breath at the audacity. Dangling a rare leveling opportunity like bait for a shark. He wasn’t sure if it was brilliant or insulting. From what he could tell, Lorenzo wasn’t sure either.

  “Details,” he demanded.

  Lord Althalas obliged, sliding a pad across the table while he gave a technically accurate, if highly skewed, summary of the last two years of Heath’s life. As he listened, Lorenzo skimmed the information on the pad, muttering about liability and bad decisions.

  He could feel the urge to fidget rising up again, along with no small amount of anger. It was only their entire futures on the line, why should they be part of the conversation?

  That was just how it was in the Core, he tried to remind himself, forcing a few deep breaths. His mother’s warnings about dealing with nobles, higher ranks, and the exhausting politics of the inner worlds bounced around his brain. If it was just him, he might have said something. But the Loon, not to mention the rest of his crew, depended on him. So he stood there and listened to a couple of people he only barely knew as they discussed how hopeless his future was at the moment, and if he was worth saving.

  “The Taptir Exclusion Doctrine is very clear on only applying to ships operating under Imperial aegis,” Lorenzo was saying. “Any thoughts your House counsel might have had on that front are right out.”

  Aleksandr poured each of them glasses of something bright pink and ice cold before he replied. “Belov said as much. Though he was more optimistic than you are about the flexibility. On the Rim, plenty of civilians are tapped to serve in capacities the Empire has not yet made available. One could say a rescue attempt and shutting down a dangerous serial killer was acting under Imperial aegis.”

  Lorenzo snorted. “Belov has gotten bold with your money behind him if he told you that. Who was the Cyber?”

  It took Heath a long moment to realize the question was directed at him and his crew, not Lord Althalas. “Oh, uh, well he wasn’t exactly a Cyber…”

  “Dead on the inside,” Copperfield added, perhaps helpfully.

  “Right. The Shaman had done something to the body.”

  “Did you know that at the time?” Lorenzo snapped, though Heath was starting to realize it was a sign of excitement, and not disparagement.

  Heath shifted his weight in discomfort. “Well, no.”

  “How did you circumvent Wraith security?” the Advocate barked the question before Heath had finished speaking.

  “We claimed to be station inspectors, and the spacer on watch didn’t know any better. Then to get into the main controls,” Heath gulped and forced himself not to glance at Copperfield, “we used an old trick to get around system locks. The Wraith was fresh off the line, no one had customized the security yet.”

  “What did you take from the base after your raid?”

  The interrogation was giving Heath whiplash. So much so that lying creatively didn’t cross his mind. “Materials to fix the Loon, mostly. We looked around for the rest but it all seemed…”

  “Tainted,” Jenny Mae supplied.

  “Right. It all seemed tainted. And a lot of it was broken from the fight.”

  “So no material gains from the venture?”

  “Uh, no.” Heath said. A gleam of reflective light passed over Lorenzo’s eyes. Some sort of truth Skill maybe. Who knew what kind of abilities a high rank lawyer had access to.

  From there, the questions spiraled. “What were you wearing when you committed the crime?”

  Heath looked down at himself, as though his fancy outfit would be replaced by his usual clothes. “Coveralls? That’s, um, pretty standard for a spacer.”

  “And the time was in the local system?”

  “What? I have no idea.”

  Jenny Mae chimed in again. Her [Perfect Recall] Skill was getting a workout. “Two hours or so before local midnight.”

  “Were there any fluctuations in the argo-mana wave propagation matrix before you attacked the base?”

  Heath was both surprised at the smooth way the lawyer was assimilating spacer knowledge, and slightly frightened. Not to mention confused. How could that matter? “We didn’t check.”

  “How many jumps did you make in the Wraith? Which systems did you go through?”

  “What was the population and Classed versus non-Classed demographic breakdown in each?”

  “Which Skills were required for the act of piracy itself, and which for the rescue?”

  On and on. The questions were in no apparent order and ranged from the most minute details to their overall strategy and mindset. Heath did his best to meet the onslaught, but he was worn down in short order. Jenny Mae helped when she could, but as the Captain, the decision-making and the thought processes behind it had been his.

  There was a brief respite when he turned to Jenny Mae to do an in-depth interrogation about her time as a captive. Which the Aide-de-Camp met with poise and extreme specificity. The others each got their own turn in the crosshairs but the Advocate finished with them in short order. When Emerald answered the third question in a row with a variation of a shrug and grunt, Lorenzo gave up and turned back to Heath.

  “You’re hiding something.” Chills shot up and down Heath’s spine. He wouldn’t betray the Loon. He’d leave the Empire first. The Alliance of Hegemons wasn’t that bad. Did Advocates have mind-reading powers? “Hiding, but not lying.” He turned to Lord Althalas as Heath put all his effort into not collapsing in relief. “I’ll take the case.”

  “Excellent. Ekaterina, why don’t you and the others retire while we discuss the details with Mr. Esteban.”