---[ POV: Flynn ]---

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Flynn was laying on his bed, eyes wide open. On the other side of the cargo bay, Amaryllis and Gwenvar were both sleeping soundly, the young princess silently, her Warden a little less so. After explaining to the amazed woman how the shower and the sanitizer soap distributor worked, Flynn had let her enjoy the hot water for a while and went to prepare her a place to sleep on the bunk just above the princess' bed.

The woman had remained in the shower for almost 40 minutes.

That's a chance amenity water run on a closed circuit on that ship or that would have been a huge waste of resources, had he thought. But after what she went through, he could understand she wanted to take some time to freshen up and relax.

When she was finally out, it had taken another good 15 minutes for Flynn to convince her to forget her old dirty clothes and use the one he had provided instead. At first, she had remained barricaded in the shower, asking for her old attire. Flynn was dismayed that she wanted to wear the smeared and smelly clothes just after washing up and questioned her about it but she had long refused to give him a satisfying answer, all up until she had finally started to admit, quite reluctantly, that Flynn's spare clothes probably wouldn't fit her anyway. The young man had explained that the ship overall he was providing was flexible and would most certainly fit her. He was certainly not about to let her wear dirty rags just after a shower. In the end, the lieutenant had to promise to wash the clothes and give them back afterward to finally convince her.

Gwenvar had seemed quite perturbed by the new clothes once she was finally done putting them on. It had taken some time and quite a few curses to put the foreign clothes with her missing hand. She had absolutely refused the help of Flynn on that side and the lieutenant was sure pride was more of a factor than shyness. He could understand, and would probably have acted the same, but was annoyed nonetheless.

Her expression, looking at herself, was a mix of fascination and embarrassment. Flynn did not understand, at first, until Athena clued him in on the fact that people from this planet were probably not used to skin-tight outfits. It made sense. After working on a ship all his life, where efficiency was prized over style or fashion, he had almost forgotten that most people did not wear that kind of getup on a daily basis.

Since there was no washing machine on the corvette, only a dry sanitizer, he had resigned to wash the clothes in the shower. It had taken him almost an hour to get the grime out with his limited means and he had questioned his sanity a couple of times while doing so.

Fortunately, Gwenvar went to sleep immediately after washing up and was no longer there to witness him sitting down in the shower wearing his full Stygian Predator armor, brushing and scraping the clothes with a brush while his hair kept falling in his face because of the running water. In the end, he had to put the helmet on.

The lieutenant had a slight smile as he remembered the scene and changed his position on the bed.

Ridiculous. What Am I using this armor for, now?

He drummed his fingers on his armored chest in a pensive air. He had not slept with the armor on since he had repaired the holes in the corvette's hull but he had kept it this time around. With strangers on board and Herman outside, there were now unpredictable elements at play that he could not afford to ignore.

He knew Athena was on guard despite her owl projection apparently sleeping, perched on the railing of the catwalk not far away, but one could never be too prudent.

As he observed the projection of the AI, he remembered what she had said to him while he was washing Gwenvar's clothes. "We are no longer in the Milky Way galaxy."

Just how the hell can that be possible? The Empire has tried to build hyper-drives strong enough to jump from one galaxy to another for a long time now but they never succeeded. At least, I think... Well, we could actually use our current technology but the journey would take hundreds of years. How the hell did I end up in another galaxy after a jump that lasted mere seconds. And why the hell are there primitive humans here? That makes no sense. But again, neither does magic... It's like I've traveled through time and found myself on Earth thousands of years ago. No, that would only explain the presence of primitive humans but not the magic and the foreign stars. Maybe I died in that crash... Is this the afterlife? A nightmare? The shadow of another world, where other lost souls end up roaming? No, that makes no sense either. Everything is just too real. That can't be a dream. God, I don't know what to make of it!

Flynn closed his eyes as it helped him to relax and think more clearly.

What should I do now that I know there are human civilizations all around? I don't want to leave the corvette behind, but living among people would probably be better than as a hermit out here in the wild. Life ain't so bad here but it gets boring quickly, and I'm kinda curious about this world and its magic. I want to learn more about it. The Empire never encountered anything of the sort. I can't let this opportunity pass by me. Maybe I'll finally get the chance to live the 'ISF experience' they try to sell potential recruits to get them on board: "Be a true explorer and pioneer! Be the first one to discover the incredible marvels hidden in all corners of the cosmos, the first to set foot on new exotic worlds and tame them to the will of the Empire. Sign in today, and maybe tomorrow you'll write your name in the archives of the nation!"

Flynn did not know exactly how he felt about the ISF recruitment pitch but he could not deny that his desire for discovery had been roused despite his profound confusion. After all, the more the questions, the more there was to discover. Not only discovery, but he also had this desire to leave his mark in this world, like the true pioneers of the early interstellar space age did when they discovered new planets to chart and new alien civilizations to bring into the fold of Humanity's burgeoning stellar nations. He wanted to explore and learn about this place, to build and solidify a home, to carve his name in this world so that if one day the Empire found this planet, they would know that Valerian Flynn of the ISF was once here.

Maybe Athena is right? Maybe my pride is misplaced? Well, that's nothing I can escape from, so better make the most of it.

After resolving that he would do his best to pierce the secrets of this new world and forge a place for himself here, he was finally able to fall asleep.

 

---

 

The sleep of the lieutenant was not as restful and pleasant as he would have liked.

The ghosts of his men back on the Starfall haunted his dreams, asking him why he had left them alone and without leadership in the face of the Mind Eater's armada; asking him why he was offered a chance to flee while they had to stay and face certain death. In front of the gathered squadron, Layton, the only one still remotely animated, spoke with the voices of all of them, berating Flynn for his cowardice and for abandoning them. There was scorn and disgust on the usually playful and affable face of the young soldier.

"Look what you've made of us," he said while walking aside to present the other pilots.

Flynn realized that most of them were nothing more than livid corpses held upright in unnatural position by the invisible strings of a mad puppeteer. Some had gaping wounds on their body, others missed a limb or had metal scraps and debris embedded in their bones and guts.

"Those are the lucky ones," said Layton. As the soldier spoke, the pale silhouettes that occupied the first rank fell to the grounds, disarticulated, revealing the second rank.

Those that came after were not dead. They stood there with empty white eyes and open mouths. They had gaunt and sick features and their waxy skin was now tinged in tones of grey and yellow. They looked in Flynn's direction, unable to see him, unable to hear him. They were but husks of their former self, deprived of their mind and individuality.

"Look at what you've made of us!" screamed Layton with anger. "Look at your men, Flynn! Look at those that counted on you! At those you've left behind!"

"I was only following order," tried Flynn. "There's nothing I could have done to save us had I stayed..."

"You were the best of us! Our leader! Our friend! You could have done something! You could have saved us!"

"I don't..."

"And now look at you! All happy about your new life and new world. But you're forgetting about us. Throwing us away, like disposable memories."

"I..." Flynn wanted to explain himself even though some part of him knew there was nothing to explain or justify. Unfortunately, before he could talk, the mindless soldiers' flesh suddenly started to boil. They started to mutate into untold horror as their skin peeled and bones cracked and changed dispositions. With hungry howls, they jumped on him. Flynn tried to fight against the fangs and claws that tore him apart but his body felt sluggish and unresponsive. He had no eyes left to see, but he could hear the hysterical laugh of Layton in the background.

The young man tried to scream but only found himself jolting upright on his bed, catching the hand that was shaking his shoulder in a firm grasp as he had confused it with one of the clawed paws that was burying through him in his dream.

He looked around him confused, only to find the princess, stupefied, gazing at him with fear, pain, and surprise painted on her face. Realizing he was holding her arm and gripping it hard enough to hurt her, he immediately let go of it.

The young girl fell backward as he let go of her hand and her back collided with the catwalk railing. She massaged her wrist. Her fear disappeared, replaced by empathy and compassion. She had a faint faint smile and said something but Flynn realized he could not understand what she said. Herman's charm was no longer working. He removed it.

"Athena?" said Flynn, looking at the owl that observed the scene with curious eyes. "I can't understand them anymore. Whatever trick Herman used, it's not working anymore. Can you upload the language pack you compiled on my stack?"

"Sure. I've been optimizing it since yesterday but it's not perfect yet. It will need a couple of updates before you're completely fluent, although, the main thing missing is simply an extended vocabulary."

Flynn saw the file information appear on his HUD and the download bar beneath starting to fill up. With it, his stack would translate what he heard for him but that didn't mean he could now understand the language directly or speak it on his own. It simply meant he had a tool able to translate it or tell him how to pronounce sound to convey what he wanted. If he wanted to truly learn it, he would have to brain-load the language pack directly, basically forcing his stack to create new synapses and neuronal pathways in his brain. It was not a particularly pleasant process and often induced 'data-haze' for some time, a state of confusion accompanied by strong headache.

Flynn sighed and launched the brain-loading process. He felt the huge quantity of data being transferred from his artificial to his organic brain. He felt like he just instantly got intoxicated on too much alcohol, sick with fever, and thrown in an out-of-control, spinning, fighter ship. Words and images flashed through his mind despite him closing his eyes to limit the disorienting effect of data-haze. Fortunately, the process was short, and the language pack was not large enough to induce more than a few minutes of discomfort.

Flynn opened his eyes and looked at the princess who had recuperated from the previous events and was now observing his reaction to the brain-loading process with a bit of anxiety.

"I'm fine, princess," said the young man. "I'm sorry if I startled you."

She had an empathetic smile. "That's fine. You were having a nightmare. I had some too and felt horrible when I woke up. That's why I was trying to wake you."

"Thank you. At least one of us is sleeping just fine," said Flynn as he looked toward Gwenvar's bed.

The woman had an arm and a leg hanging from her bunk and was breathing heavily - or snoring lightly, hard to say - while mumbling incomprehensible things. Flynn was sure he heard the word 'Amy' once or twice.

The princess followed his gaze and had a small laugh. "Yeah, Gwen's always been a heavy sleeper, despite saying the contrary and trying to convince anyone who's listening that she sleep with an ear and an eye open to get up on any sign of danger. She almost never wakes up before me, even if it's supposed to be her job to get me out of bed."

Flynn sat on his bed to face the young girl. She, in turn, leaned against the railing behind her. Her large golden eyes detailed him with unmasked curiosity.

"If it's not too indiscreet, what could Lord Flynn possibly dream about that would scare him?" she asked. "You don't seem like the kind of man that is afraid of much. You fought a death-singer by yourself!"

"Fighting is one thing, simple, easy to manage. Duty and responsibilities are another," said Flynn, unsure himself of why he had dreamt of his men only now while he had not during the three weeks that had passed since he crashed.

"Responsibilities? So you were dreaming of home? Maybe you left some tasks unfinished in your homeland? I imagine a great lord like you had a lot to take care of. Being away must be taxing on the nerves."

"Not so much of home as the men that served under me," admitted Flynn.

"Oh... So I was right. You are a knightly lord. You had to leave your retinue behind?

"Sort off. They all died while I was not there to help them."

As soon as he said that, Flynn regretted his remark. The face of the young girl got a bit depressed. It was not right for him to burden her with such topics.

"Don't worry about it princess. That's a 'me' problem. We all have our ghosts and demons that belong only to us."

"You sound just like Gwen," said the princess with a frustrated expression. "Well, I think it's better to talk about it. I always feel better after crying a bit in Gwen's arms. Sometime just getting it out of your chest helps a lot."

"Would you like for me to cry in your arms?" asked Flynn with a serious face. He had trouble masking his joking tone.

Amaryllis made a complicated face, unsure of what she should answer. She looked at him, trying to see if he was serious or not, then shook her head a bit.

"Well... maybe not," she admitted with a bit of remorse and guilt in her voice. "But talking about it feels good, I swear!"

Flynn laughed at the embarrassed reaction of the young girl. "Relax, princess, I'm just making fun of you a bit."

The traits of the young girl shifted to outrage and she tried to kick his leg, only to hurt herself on the armor's greave.

"You're just like Gwen!" she cried. "Why's everyone having fun at my expense when I'm just trying to help?"

"Because it's easy?"

"Again?!" she kicked him on the other leg, with less force this time to avoid hurting her toes.

Flynn laughed and the princess' face reddened but she also smiled a bit.

"As a knight, haven't you taken the Oaths of Chivalry? You shouldn't mock a lady like that!"

"Well, too bad for you; I'm not a knight."

Amaryllis seemed a bit surprised. She detailed Flynn's armor.

"Well, even if you're not a knight, a lord of your status should know better..."

"I'm not a lord either."

"What?!" said the princess. "Are you a templar then?"

"Neither."

The young princess seemed profoundly lost. "Then what is this armor? Don't tell me you stole it? You're good enough a warrior that I would believe this at least belong to you. And that motif on your chest, that sun, it's clearly some kind of heraldry or divine symbol."

"This armor was not mine, but I took it from a dead man that would not have minded me having it. A fellow soldier of my nation. And this symbol on my chest is the crest of the Unified Stellar Empire, the... kingdom I am from."

"You just said you were not a knight!"

"I'm not."

"I don't follow. How can a fighter of your caliber not be a knight? If you truly were a soldier, I mean. Don't tell me everyone is as strong as you where you came from?!"

"Most of my strength comes from this armor. And only elite soldiers have one, not everyone. Although, I am - was - a lieutenant, so I could get access to one if I really wanted to."

"A lewtenan?"

"Lieutenant," corrected Flynn. "An officer of the army. My official title would be ISF Lieutenant Valerian Flynn."

"Mmmh" said the princess with a pensive air. "You should go with something else. Lewtenant is just silly. People here are not used to it and won't remember it. I think 'knight' or 'lord' suits you well."

"Yeah, but I am neither of those things. From what I understood, knights are expected to follow a particular code of conduct, which I won't, and lords own lands and rules towns and cities, which I don't."

The princess nodded and continued to look at him for some time, whispering some words for herself. She was obviously trying to find him an adequate title. Flynn wondered why his name was not enough but apparently, he had done something that was worth getting a title or sobriquet of some sort.

"I know," she said after some time, perking up and raising a finger. "You will be the Black Sun Sovereign!"

Flynn frowned. "The Black Sun Sovereign? That's a bit over the top don't you think?"

"Not at all," said the princess with an enthusiastic tone. "It fits the armor and that symbol perfectly. That's just ominous enough to inspire respect, but not so much that it would sound evil or tyrannical. People will remember it, for sure."

"OK, sure, but 'Sovereign'? Really?"

"Why not? You don't need to specify anything about it. It conveys power without the association people would make if you used 'knight' or 'lord'."

"Why not just 'Flynn'?"

"Absolutely not! A man such as you deserves much more. People won't respect you or take you seriously otherwise. At least, nobles and important people won't..."

"I don't know what to say. It's a bit rushed. I don't hate it but... wait, I don't hate it? Oh god, Athena is right; I am arrogant and vain."

"You sure are," said the AI that had remained silent in the background until now.

Flynn darted a warning look on her and she just cackled and flew away to go perch herself on the other side of the cargo bay. As if it was a cue, Gwenvar yawned and started to move. She rolled on the side and almost fell down the bed but opened her eye on time to prevent the fall. She observed the scene for some time with a groggy expression, then swiftly got up.

"Princess?!" she said with an unsure tone. "Have you been up for long?"

Amaryllis smiled. "Not really. A couple of minutes. Less than an hour."

As Gwenvar approached, Flynn stack received a signal from movements outside. A singular life form, approaching at a walking pace.

"It's a good thing you're up," said Flynn. "I think Herman is back."

Gwenvar looked toward the airlock down in the cargo bay but there was evidently no sign of the old man's presence. She then returned her attention to Flynn, then the princess.

"That toad can wait outside a bit. I would like for the princess to take a shower as I did. She's not really presenting like royalty right now."

It was true that the princess was still covered in dirt and dried blood. Her dark robe made it less evident than it had been for Gwenvar but she would benefit from a shower and clean clothes. Given the burnt state of her current attire, Flynn doubted it would be a good idea to give it back afterward. It would probably be best to find a new one, but for the moment the corvette's travel overall would have to do.

"Sure," said Flynn. "I'll let you show her how to use it and prepare some clothes for her meanwhile."

The two women left for the small bathroom of the corvette, Gwenvar hyping up the princess about the marvelous thing she was about to discover. The woman was so proud of, and happy about, displaying the shower that one could believe she had invented it herself.

Flynn sent Athena outside to meet Herman and ask him to wait for some time. He accepted without much of a complaint, content to sit on a rock with his wooden pipe in hand, smoking indolently while waiting to be summoned.

Once they were done with the shower, Gwenvar gave the clothes offered by Flynn to the princess and they both came back to the main room in the black overall of an Empire space traveler. The young girl still had wet hairs flattened on her face and neck but at least she no longer looked like she just escaped a burning building and spent the night out sleeping beneath a bridge.

Flynn was about to lower the cargo bay ramp when Gwenvar almost jumped at him.

"Wait!" she said, panicked. "I refuse to let that man see me like that! Where are my clothes!"

Flynn pointed to the folded pile of cloth he had put near her bed. She went to them and put them on top of the overall she was already sporting.

From the corner of his eyes, the lieutenant could see Amaryllis fidget in her place while looking at Gwenvar and playing with the fabric of her new clothes.

"I'm sorry, princess," he said. "I don't think your old clothes can be worn again. They are too damaged and I haven't had the time to wash them anyway."

The princess' face turned red and she looked at the floor. "That's ok," she said, with a small and shy voice.

"Oh! Princess, I'm sorry!" said Gwenvar as if she had just realized the embarrassed state of her Ward. "Here, take mine!"

She was about to remove the clothes she had just put on when Flynn pointed to his cloak.

"Do you want this?" he asked. "Just for tonight, and we'll find you something else tomorrow." He looked at Gwenvar. "That way Gwenvar won't have to give you hers and you'll both be covered."

The princess nodded and Flynn took off the cloak to throw it on her shoulders. Gwenvar looked at him with a thankful expression. Once he was done securing the cloak on the young girl's shoulder with its golden brooch, he took two steps back to look at her. Gwenvar joined him and they appreciated the final result together.

They both had to bite their lips not to laugh.

The princess was a lot smaller than Flynn. With the cloak on, the only thing visible from her was her pale and innocent face, framed by a large crown of white scales that almost rose above her head from behind and made her shoulders look thrice as large as they really were. The rest of her body only appeared as a filiform cylinder of red fabric that spilled onto the ground to create a crimson puddle around her feet.

"What?!" she asked after a moment of silence.

"Nothing!" said Gwenvar, quickly.

"I'll go fetch Herman," replied Flynn as he turned around before he could not contain himself anymore.

 

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