Karos Station, a trade outpost and shipyard on the edge of the Colonial Territories, was built within a 3.2-kilometer asteroid. It was one of only twelve locales that Kazia had ever visited since her revival. Since then, she had learned that the galaxy was in tatters, yet she continued to see outposts like Karos. 

Goods and supplies were being traded, and people kept traversing its halls; whether roaming the station or traveling light-years elsewhere, life continued. 

Lucian envisioned it as similar to a wounded body repairing itself with its many remains. The outposts continue to pump blood, signaling the other organs to function properly. The cells are going about doing whatever cells do, all continuing to move on to rebuild and restructure civilization. 

She came to wonder if she had actually helped in some way, to sustain the grand body that was the galaxy itself. Part of those thoughts lingered in her mind more clearly after the Rust Burn docked with the station, allowing her and Lucian to disembark onto dangerous grounds. 

Unlike the calm, mechanical business of their many arrivals and landings, the recycled air in hangar bay 35 felt heavy as the ramp lowered. The bay was suspiciously cleared of other ships and mechanics. Empty, dead, save for the remaining containers abandoned by the station staff and machinery, with even the hangar’s control center, which monitored the six bays, was empty of personnel. 

“This is far more intense than a simple bounty grab,” Kazia spoke out to herself, either to steady the uneasiness in her very being or to bring some noise to the dead quiet. 

“Can’t imagine bounty hunters clearing away an entire section of a station like this.”

Kazia turned to find Lucian marching down the ramp behind her. The Terran carried a DMR blaster. Her eyes widened, then narrowed when she intercepted him with a forceful shove, pushing him back a couple of steps. 

“No, get back in the ship.” She pointed at the Rust Burn, her voice commanding, desperate. 

“I’m not leaving you.” Lucian regained a step, standing his ground. 

Kazia eyed him in surprise, her head shaking. “Sigarus is a Hunter, and he might have his friend with him.”

“All the more reason to stay with you.” Lucian held up his weapon, checking the charge.  

She took the gun carefully, her curiosity about weaponry overriding her readiness and wariness about a coming conflict. Her eye studied it with the intensity of a scientist detailing the atomic structure of an unknown plant. 

The weapon appeared capable of mid-range shots to hold off enemies at a distance. Despite not having a scope, its medium size and antique Terran design made Kazia question its model. The weapon was heavy, mostly built of metal, with a wooden finish that appeared worn but durable. It possessed an energy cell pack, unlike the slug launchers, designed to transfer the gas into the chambers via a rotating mechanism, allowing the heated plasma to fire fifteen powerful shots. 

On the weapon, designs were engraved along the grip, resembling patterned scratches. Kazia came to understand they were words in one of the few Terran dialects she couldn’t make out. 

“It’s a gift from my older sister,” Lucian stated, a hint of melancholy in his voice. “Got it for my 21st birthday before everything went to shit for me.”

“You surprise me, Lucian.” Kazia handled the weapon's back grip first, impressed by the iron piece and by his bravery.

Lucian took it, appreciating the craftsmanship and the words on the grip that read “family” in old Japanese.

“Yeah, well, it’s saved my life a few times when coming across pirates raiding a settlement during one of my travels.” He held the gun to his side, keeping it out and ready. “The few lives I couldn’t talk down or change, when you have to either subdue them or take a life to save another. It’s a heavy burden in itself.”

There was a silence between them that didn’t come from the empty bay, but a weighted one. Kazia stared at the blaster, then at Lucian, who looked at her in understanding. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Kazia whispered, a soft urging for him to allow her to take the weight. 

“I am supposed to be keeping an eye on you, by Colonial law.” He smirked, the excuse giving off a hidden weight behind it. “And what kind of doctor would I be if I left my patient behind?”

Kazia had no words to give, not only for being speechless at his declaration, but for the break in the quiet. Two pairs of footsteps, heavy boots, and a quieter set of footfalls that echoed throughout the corridor they emerged from. Both of them walked with confidence, their stride bringing them into view of their prey.

Sigarus stood at the entrance of the bay leading to the station’s main atrium, arms folded, his stance reserving his personal space, tail relaxed with a lazy sway despite the tension. The Vul’Katahni, a male by his build, carried himself with an intensity of someone who had prepared for combat, but kept their grace intact with a controlled focus that Kazia felt bearing into her very being with contempt. 

The dark-haired Vul’Katahn wore a white nano-weave coat reaching to his shins, which doubled as capable runic armor over the darker tunic, pants, and soft-sole boots. The bone-white mask he wore, Kazia recognized as an old piece once worn by Vul’Katahani sages, with swept-back spikes. It covered the entire front of the head, save for their lucra, in which his were settled and tied together, resting before his chest by a decorative ornamental binding.

“You were either a once respectable sage, or you stole that mask,” Kazia called out, the sight of her kin bringing something deep from within to resurface. “Whichever one, our people have definitely fallen if this is what’s become of you.”

The mask displayed nothing except the eye openings, revealing the glowing, venomous green of his eyes. 

“You speak as if you weren’t the catalyst of our downfall, Worldbreaker.” His voice was rough from disuse, yet held the same accent as Kazia’s in the Common tongue. “Those markings are a reminder, a mistake. One that I plan to correct.”

He raised his hands before his center mass, fingers placed in a way that held significance. Lucian watched as this man’s control of the gathered energies in between the points of his hand, resting vertically one on top of each other. The literal mist of azure light coalesced into a focal point, ready to be manipulated and used at range. 

“20,000,” Sigarus announced, his eyes locking onto Lucian’s. “My offer for you to step this one out, my Terran friend.”

Lucian clenched his jaw. Another deal for betrayal, to look the other way. The same as before five years ago. A price thrown at him that could never sate his conscience. This rejection, he thought, might get him killed, but he would rather go out knowing he gave her a chance. Lucian took a step close to Kazia, his answer erupting from the barrel of his rifle; he fired.

Sigarus dodged, his reaction time keeping up with Lucian’s quickdraw, leaving the plasma bolt to burst against the bulkhead. Kazia stood in front of Lucian, her forearm blocking an incoming wave of Myst energy from the “rogue” sage. Lucian gave Kazia a side glance, their eyes meeting one last time before he broke off to confront the hunter, keeping his partner from dealing with an unfair advantage. 

A wave of Myst energy bound itself to Kazia’s forearm like a hand, where she felt its grip against her barriers, yet burned against them, like heat radiating against her skin. She amplified what energy she could output with her inhibitors. The Rogue had no such devices or obligations to wear any, like most deviant Vul’Katahn. 

The pull was harsh, but Kazia held her ground, straining against the Rogue’s power that would have flung her across the hangar bay or seared her arm into a charred mess. Instead, she flared her defenses in a way that pushed back against her enemy’s hold, like breaking a chain. 

In return, Kazia brought her hand back, palm open, where her Myst collected itself into a sphere that crackled with an electric hum, the very cosmic power coursing through her body, containing a sparking, volatile portion, before focusing to expel it in a blast of intense energy. The light lanced out, streaking in a sharp whistle as it traveled as fast as a blaster bolt.

The blast struck the Rogue dead center, but did little damage to them. Like Kazia, he possessed a natural barrier capable of blocking high-velocity attacks, kinetic or energy-based. He blocked with his arms, acting as a twofold shield; the blast struck with an explosive crack and dissipated, yet another one struck, and two more. Kazia fired one blast after another, maintaining fire to wear his defenses down with both hands, expelling energy bolts, while her steps brought her closer. 

Lucian ducked behind a container that took the barrage of blaster fire trailing him, scorching the metal with searing red plasma. There was a break before Sigarus was forced to keep his weapons from overheating, giving Lucian the opening to fire two shots, one finding their target. 

Sigarus was damaged in his armor’s shoulder plating, nearly cracking the piece entirely with a melted hole the size of a golf ball. He felt the pain reverberating through his shoulder and growled, his tail slapping the deck, playing in heated anger, yet equally impressed. 

“No armor, clean shots. Not bad, Terran!” He called out, rotating his shoulder to shake the pain away, his breathing picking up from the exertion. “You’re more of a marauder sawbones than a typical doctor. Yet I noticed you’re attempting to incapacitate.” He glanced at his shoulder and arm, both with scored hits, and his tail, bare and surging with a heated pain he fought through. 

“Death is avoidable,” Lucian responded, checking his blaster’s charge, holding at 78%. “But if you’re looking to throw people into slavery, then I might make an exception.”

“Tough talk!”

A shadow reached out overhead, with Sigarus leaping over Lucian’s makeshift cover of containers. It was a risky, but effective surprise attack. Two shots, one hit that could have taken Lucian in his head if he wasn’t ready to move, his legs springing him from his position to bolt away. Sigarus landed in a roll, recovered quickly to pivot and fire, a bolt landing onto Lucian’s back shoulder. 

The pain shot through him, nerves and muscle burning along the left of his latissimus dorsi. Lucian collapsed, his momentum throwing his body against the floor in a tumble, his brain screaming for him to stop. He tried to lift himself, using his right arm as a prop to recover, only to spot Sigarus bringing himself up to corner him. 

A container crashed to the deck, the contents of various children’s toys scattering about alongside metal shards. Another large, cylindrical piece of cargo, engulfed by a cerulean energy field, crashed into Kazia despite her best efforts to take the brunt of the telekinetic attacks; she had no strength to defend against the barrage. The station’s artificial gravity aided the weight of the canister to nearly cave her chest in. 

The heavy metal rolled across the bay, and Kazia definitely heard a crack or two, her lungs burning as she tried to breathe and regain what was knocked out of her. Her vision grew gray around the edges, her head spinning, possibly bleeding somewhere from her face. She wasn’t at her best. 

She rolled to her front, slowly, painfully. Her eyes caught Lucian, his smoking flesh the only clear thing she could see, and her heart broke at the sight. She never wanted him to be hurt, to suffer for her. And yet, she saw him alongside her brothers and sisters, even though he was still moving and breathing. 

“A cage was too good for you, savage creature.” The Rogue Sage stomped on Kazia’s arm, their boot pressing against the tattoo along her lucra. 

A cage. Somehow, Kazia saw it was more than just a cage, and she knew it. She remembered it. The betrayal, the mercy, the “cage” that was deeper than a jail cell. Her body refused to move. Her eyes were watching everything, unable to look away. She was alone, scared, and afraid. With that, the rage boiled inside her very being, burning from the inside. 

Her hands rose, her body feeling as if it were overflowing against a dam that had begun to crack. The adversary’s energies aglow with lethal intent, collided with her own. The sparking contact of both opposing forces, raw and pure.

Lucian heard the scream, the guttural and painful cry that reverberated with power. He felt it and saw her. The storm of azure light became a burst of chaos. Containers, tools, and weapons were flung about. Sparks of cosmic energy expelled upwards, throwing the rogue Vul’Katahn’s slammed into a shipping crane high above. Sigarus flew back, his gun lost in the displacement. The bright azure flare became so intense that Lucian, barely within its radius, had to shield his eyes or he would simply black out from the pain. 

She felt drained, nearly empty from the exertion. The burst of energy was something she could not have conjured due to the inhibitors clamped onto her lucra. Neither device could be discarded unless it was remotely removed by an official or destroyed. 

Glancing down at herself, Kazia checked both lucra, watching as the right extension’s band fell away. Pieces of specialized metal crumbled, their surfaces burnt and worn, despite having appeared smooth and operational just hours before.

She didn’t dwell on it for long before her ears picked up movement nearby. Kazia flicked her eyes towards Lucian, his body lying face-up, unconscious. A few meters away, Sigarus limped towards the Terra. His scaled face was pouring out unbridled fury, despite also being on his last legs.

Hand raised, Kazia’s attempt to conjure energy failed. She was dangerously low, her exhaustion reaching its physical and metaphysical limits. Her mind raced, calculating her body’s ability to move and her options. 

Throwing something wouldn’t be viable without an object light enough to be easily thrown at this distance. Kasia didn’t have the strength to charge and tackle. Her powers were spent, with even her barriers being at their breaking point. Kazia’s eyes frantically scanned the debris around them, catching sight of something most useful.

A firearm, possibly Sigarus’. Dropped during the burst of conflicting Myst, was close enough. Kazia moved without further thought, her adrenaline pushing her body into a roll to grab the gun, aiming as her vision tunneled, and her grip tightening around the trigger. 

The shot landed as a yelping cry echoed in the coming darkness. Something heavy hit the ground. Whether it was Sigarus or her, she didn’t know, but the exhaustion claimed her. 

“You’re so weak.” A voice, her voice, stating the obvious, as if disappointed by what had transpired. “Wasting your life for a Terran is beneath you.”