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insult that his idea was so easily dismissed.
    “Fine,” Vere said. “If you want to recover an army no one else has been able to free, have a blast.”
    Instead of sinking back in his chair, he excitedly tapped a palm against the table in front of him and beamed with joy. “Fine, I will. Anyone want to come with me?”
    No one raised their hands.

8

    A series of ships took off from CamaLon’s primary spaceport.
    In the front was a trio of O-Model Llyushin transports, a larger, modified form of the popular CasterLan fighter that was designed to carry delegates and high-ranking army officers to their posts. The first of these belonged to Westmoreland, who was on his way back to Ryl-Minor to oversee construction of the last Solar Carrier they would have available for battle. The next ship belonged to Scrope, as he made his way to the nearest corner of the Oman-S system to see if he could convince anyone there to join forces in the upcoming battle. The third ship belonged to Peto, who was on his way to meet representatives from the Ecator system to see if they would be willing to join in the fight. Each of the three O-Models was joined by a pair of M-Model Llyushin fighters. At the edge of Edsall Dark’s atmosphere, the three ships and their escorts began to arc away from each other, all of them heading their separate ways, each soaring to different parts of the galaxy as quickly as they could.
    Next, Morgan piloted her personal ship, the Pendragon. It was part transport and part fighter, a craft that resembled a Llyushin fighter if it were taken completely apart and then reassembled in the dark.
    True to her word, following the Battle of Tevis-84 she had returned to Folliet-Bright and begun searching for the thieves who had stolen her ship. It had taken a while, but she eventually found the Pendragon two sectors away in a mining colony run by a local gangster. The thug, a short, feather-covered alien named Dyyn-Mite, had added her ship as part of his fleet.
    After breaking her way into his lair and killing all of his bodyguards, she had tortured him until he revealed the name of the alien he had bought it from. By the time she left his mining colony, Dyyn-Mite was featherless and begging for his life. He could hear the slaves he used as free labor chanting his name as they set fire to his lair.
    From there, Morgan had tracked down the alien who had sold the ship to Dyyn-Mite. The creature, roughly the same size as a human, walked on hands and knees and was covered in wood-colored armored plating. It had four antennae on its head and bulbous black eyes that swiveled around the side of its face.
    She had torn out two of its antennae before it told her the names of the thieves who had actually stolen the ship. She tore out the other two to ensure it had learned its lesson.
    The thieves, when she tracked them down, fared even worse. None of them would forget her face, and none of them would steal from her ever again. Not only that, the stories of how far she was willing to go to get her ship back spread through each sector until every thief knew not to steal from Morgan Le Fay. She was confident she could leave the Pendragon at the same Folliet-Bright spaceport where it had been stolen six years earlier, this time leaving the ramp open and the engine running, and no one would steal it.
    Now, seated in the pilot seat of the Pendragon once again, she flew in the same basic direction as the approaching Vonnegan fleet. Her goal wasn’t to face them by herself. Instead, she wanted to scout out the space around the desert moon of Dela Turkomann, which the fleet of Athens Destroyers would be passing, to see how well it might serve as a field of battle.
    “Pistol,” she said. “On our way there, calculate every possible strength and weakness that a conflict around Dela Turkomann could have for us, factoring in its gravity, speed of revolution around Mego Turkomann, and anything else you can think of.”
    “Yes, Morgan.”
    The