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Onboard Moya, on Acervulus, and Back on Moya
Moya and her wayward inhabitants (both permanent and temporary) were reunited, stories were exchanged, and then the party was split once more.
“You’re coming with us,” Chiana told Stark, leaning against his doorway.
“Last time I came with you we ended up in a cell,” Stark countered. “No. Thank you.”
“Rygel’s doing something with myths and legends. He says you’re his only mystical option so you gotta come.”
“Rygel isn’t in charge of me.”
“Nobody is,” Chiana acknowledged. “But he said to say please so you know it’s serious.”
“Not serious enough to ask me politely himself.”
“He’s a Dominar,” Chiana said with an exaggerated eyeroll. “He’s got people to be polite for him. Hey. You almost smiled.”
“No,” Stark said with a small shake of his head. “I didn’t.” He had. Almost.
“Whatever you say. Come on, it’s that or I leave Noranti to watch you.”
“I don’t need to be watched.”
“You do,” Chiana said gently. “We’re all worried about you. You want Granny following you around or you wanna come with us? You can take whatever revenge you want if we end up locked up again but we’ve got the PK ship and more backup this time.”
Stark sighed then finally nodded. “Fine.” He'd much rather have Chiana giving him worried looks than have the old woman following him around the ship offering various "remedies."
Three solar days later they were still sitting on the surface of Acervulus, waiting. Rygel had done something with a mysterious obelisk and then demanded they wait. And wait. And wait some more.
“You’re something of a mystic,” Rygel had said to Stark. “You can say a prayer. Dozens if you like. It certainly can’t hurt.”
“If my prayers helped,” Stark muttered, “I wouldn’t be here, would I? No one hears them.” He’d offered up something to the universe anyway. Just in case.
Now the waiting was wearing on Stark and on everyone else waiting on this desert planet.
“It’s been three solar days, Your Highness,” General Turralde said to Rygel, in the tones of someone who expected to be ignored yet again but was gamely making his case once more. “Three solar days since we came to this sandpit and met with your Leviathan. Three solar days since you activated that frelling obelisk. The result? Nothing! The Order of the First is a myth!”
“You may want to rethink that position, General,” Jothee suggested, pointing upward as he pushed the hood of his robe back. The others looked upward as well. The ship hovering overhead seemed to agree with Jothee’s assessment.
”Your Highness, this is General Chorchk. Our shuttle is about to land. The Order of the First stands ready to assist you.”
“What do you have to say now, General?” Rygel asked smugly.
Turralde’s only response was a very soft “yotz.”
Once the ship landed there was, of course, a meeting to be had and new allies to be evaluated. The Moyans were watching the new arrivals very warily, weapons at the ready. Rygel’s fellow escapees were doing the same.
“Chorchk, you’re part of the Order of the First?”
“Yes, I am, Turralde. Why so surprised? I am the latest in a long line of generals who have served the Rygel bloodline in this manner – going back to when the order formed under Dominar Rygel the first.” Chorchk turned his attention to Rygel now. “I’m afraid, Your Highness, that only three navy Cruisers have answered the summons. Your order’s ranks have thinned over the cycles.”
“That leaves us with only five capital ships,” Jothee pointed out. “One of which has no weapons. Plus the pods, prowlers, and the like.”
“That’s actually better odds than we usually have…” Chiana said with a shrug.
Stark just sighed, then nodded in agreement. She wasn’t wrong.
“The odds are better than you might think, Nebari,” Chorchk said. “The navy was devastated by the Scarrans. New vessels are being constructed but the soonest any of them will be spaceworthy is half a cycle. The usurper Bishan has attempted to hire mercenaries to supplement what’s left of the fleet, but too much of the empire’s treasury is being used for shipbuilding.”
“We hired mercenaries without any treasury at all,” Chiana said, nudging Stark with her elbow.
“We were robbing a bank at the time,” Stark reminded her. "That helped."
“How many ships are we talking about, General Chorck?” Rygel asked, ignoring the conversation behind him.
“Not including our three, thirteen in the home system plus half a dozen on border patrol.”
“The border patrols are of no consequence,” Rygel said dismissively. “It will take them a solar day to respond to any distress calls and my plan will have succeeded by then.”
“Confident little welnitz, isn’t he?” Jothee muttered.
“Rygel’s a genius,” Chiana said, grinning. “Don’t believe me? Just ask him.”
Stark very nearly smiled again. Nearly.
Once they were all satisfied that their new allies were, in fact, allies there was a meeting back on Moya to discuss strategy.
Rygel laid out his plan, in excruciating detail, to everyone involved. Repeatedly. It involved the cooperation of all of his allies, new and old, all of the ships including the newly acquired prowlers. Aeryn, Crichton, and baby D’Argo had spent a long time in the maintenance bay checking those over. How much use the baby had been was unclear, though he’d been quite happy during the whole process.
Aeryn and Crichton were to head for a military base in prowlers. Noranti, the baby, Jothee, Chiana, and Stark were to remain on Moya initially. Rygel and his newly formed navy, including the captured Vigilante (newly renamed Hyneria Prime), were going to head for the palace planet to strike while Bishan was distracted by the attack on the military base.
Once everyone knew their part in the plan, it was time to implement it and hope for the best. There was a lot of hope involved. So very much hope. Plans made by members of Moya’s crew always required rather a lot of hope.
[NFB for distance. The saddest alien does have his phone back for the moment though, now that he’s back on Moya. Adapted from “The Beginning of the End of the Beginning: Hynerian Rhapsody.”]
“You’re coming with us,” Chiana told Stark, leaning against his doorway.
“Last time I came with you we ended up in a cell,” Stark countered. “No. Thank you.”
“Rygel’s doing something with myths and legends. He says you’re his only mystical option so you gotta come.”
“Rygel isn’t in charge of me.”
“Nobody is,” Chiana acknowledged. “But he said to say please so you know it’s serious.”
“Not serious enough to ask me politely himself.”
“He’s a Dominar,” Chiana said with an exaggerated eyeroll. “He’s got people to be polite for him. Hey. You almost smiled.”
“No,” Stark said with a small shake of his head. “I didn’t.” He had. Almost.
“Whatever you say. Come on, it’s that or I leave Noranti to watch you.”
“I don’t need to be watched.”
“You do,” Chiana said gently. “We’re all worried about you. You want Granny following you around or you wanna come with us? You can take whatever revenge you want if we end up locked up again but we’ve got the PK ship and more backup this time.”
Stark sighed then finally nodded. “Fine.” He'd much rather have Chiana giving him worried looks than have the old woman following him around the ship offering various "remedies."
Three solar days later they were still sitting on the surface of Acervulus, waiting. Rygel had done something with a mysterious obelisk and then demanded they wait. And wait. And wait some more.
“You’re something of a mystic,” Rygel had said to Stark. “You can say a prayer. Dozens if you like. It certainly can’t hurt.”
“If my prayers helped,” Stark muttered, “I wouldn’t be here, would I? No one hears them.” He’d offered up something to the universe anyway. Just in case.
Now the waiting was wearing on Stark and on everyone else waiting on this desert planet.
“It’s been three solar days, Your Highness,” General Turralde said to Rygel, in the tones of someone who expected to be ignored yet again but was gamely making his case once more. “Three solar days since we came to this sandpit and met with your Leviathan. Three solar days since you activated that frelling obelisk. The result? Nothing! The Order of the First is a myth!”
“You may want to rethink that position, General,” Jothee suggested, pointing upward as he pushed the hood of his robe back. The others looked upward as well. The ship hovering overhead seemed to agree with Jothee’s assessment.
”Your Highness, this is General Chorchk. Our shuttle is about to land. The Order of the First stands ready to assist you.”
“What do you have to say now, General?” Rygel asked smugly.
Turralde’s only response was a very soft “yotz.”
Once the ship landed there was, of course, a meeting to be had and new allies to be evaluated. The Moyans were watching the new arrivals very warily, weapons at the ready. Rygel’s fellow escapees were doing the same.
“Chorchk, you’re part of the Order of the First?”
“Yes, I am, Turralde. Why so surprised? I am the latest in a long line of generals who have served the Rygel bloodline in this manner – going back to when the order formed under Dominar Rygel the first.” Chorchk turned his attention to Rygel now. “I’m afraid, Your Highness, that only three navy Cruisers have answered the summons. Your order’s ranks have thinned over the cycles.”
“That leaves us with only five capital ships,” Jothee pointed out. “One of which has no weapons. Plus the pods, prowlers, and the like.”
“That’s actually better odds than we usually have…” Chiana said with a shrug.
Stark just sighed, then nodded in agreement. She wasn’t wrong.
“The odds are better than you might think, Nebari,” Chorchk said. “The navy was devastated by the Scarrans. New vessels are being constructed but the soonest any of them will be spaceworthy is half a cycle. The usurper Bishan has attempted to hire mercenaries to supplement what’s left of the fleet, but too much of the empire’s treasury is being used for shipbuilding.”
“We hired mercenaries without any treasury at all,” Chiana said, nudging Stark with her elbow.
“We were robbing a bank at the time,” Stark reminded her. "That helped."
“How many ships are we talking about, General Chorck?” Rygel asked, ignoring the conversation behind him.
“Not including our three, thirteen in the home system plus half a dozen on border patrol.”
“The border patrols are of no consequence,” Rygel said dismissively. “It will take them a solar day to respond to any distress calls and my plan will have succeeded by then.”
“Confident little welnitz, isn’t he?” Jothee muttered.
“Rygel’s a genius,” Chiana said, grinning. “Don’t believe me? Just ask him.”
Stark very nearly smiled again. Nearly.
Once they were all satisfied that their new allies were, in fact, allies there was a meeting back on Moya to discuss strategy.
Rygel laid out his plan, in excruciating detail, to everyone involved. Repeatedly. It involved the cooperation of all of his allies, new and old, all of the ships including the newly acquired prowlers. Aeryn, Crichton, and baby D’Argo had spent a long time in the maintenance bay checking those over. How much use the baby had been was unclear, though he’d been quite happy during the whole process.
Aeryn and Crichton were to head for a military base in prowlers. Noranti, the baby, Jothee, Chiana, and Stark were to remain on Moya initially. Rygel and his newly formed navy, including the captured Vigilante (newly renamed Hyneria Prime), were going to head for the palace planet to strike while Bishan was distracted by the attack on the military base.
Once everyone knew their part in the plan, it was time to implement it and hope for the best. There was a lot of hope involved. So very much hope. Plans made by members of Moya’s crew always required rather a lot of hope.
[NFB for distance. The saddest alien does have his phone back for the moment though, now that he’s back on Moya. Adapted from “The Beginning of the End of the Beginning: Hynerian Rhapsody.”]