Orion glanced up and smiled as he saw the woman approaching. His heart skipped a beat as the lovely Jrassk cyborg gave him a warm grin. Her usually vibrant green and blue striped scales had dulled to a muted blue color, broadcasting her true emotions. In deference to the solemnity of the occasion, she’d opted to wear a form fitting black dress with a slit up the side.

  “I brought some food,” Xing said, “Can I eat here or did you want some alone time?”

  Orion smiled, “I’d actually love the company. Though, I might be a bit quiet.”

  Xing smiled and walked closer, stepping over sleeping animals as she leaned against a different tree.

  “I don’t mind,” Xing reassured him. “But why are you hiding back here? You arranged this whole thing.”

  Orion chewed thoughtfully on the juicy burger. If anything could make someone forget that you were living in a video game, it was the food. He’d been to four star restaurants that served food that didn’t taste as good as Magrath’s cuisine. He savored the tender meat and swallowed before answering.

  “This night’s not about me. It’s about them.” Orion answered pensively, “Besides, I didn’t really know them all that well. Especially since they seemed to keep changing nicknames every five minutes. Sure I knew Gunmetal a bit, but I’m a stranger here. You all knew the guards better.”

  Xing shook her head, “Yeah. As Guards. They were the ones keeping the rest of us as prisoners. It wasn’t until you pardoned us that the guards helped most of us out. And even then, some of them were jerks.”

  Orion polished off his burger and set his plate down. He grabbed his beer again and took a tentative sip before answering.

  Orion sighed, “Maybe. But they still deserved a chance to improve themselves. Same chance I gave everyone.”

  Xing stared at her own plate with a haunted look. “Some people don’t change.”

  Orion glanced over and caught the intense stare, “Hey. Are you okay?”

  Xing ‘s vision focused and she met Orion’s worried eyes, “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s Just the past. Nothing that happened during this whole ‘being shipped off to a mining colony’ deal.”

  Orion walked closer to Xing, resting his forearm on the trunk above her head. He leaned in, creating a protective barrier between Xing and the world. She looked up into his eyes and then cast them to the ground again, squirming shyly. Her scales flushed pink a moment before darkening back to blue. His mouth quirked at the reaction, but he let the matter drop.

  “Okay, if you say so.” Orion’s voice was a gentle whisper, “But you tell me if anything like that happens here. I won’t have corrupt guards in Phoenix, they’ll be banished like the others.”

  Xing smirked, “after kicking their ass?”

  “You know it.” Orion flashed a tusky grin.

  Xing smiled and stepped into his embrace, her slinky form chilly against his. It warmed soon enough, absorbing his body heat. She nestled her chin on his chest and wrapped arms around his thick waist. After a few seconds, Orion returned the hug, strong arms encircling her gently. Xing’s tail wrapped possessively around Orion’s organic leg.

  Someone cleared his throat behind them, “Are we interrupting?”

  Orion sighed and dropped his head as the mood was suddenly interrupted. For the best really, this certainly wasn’t an appropriate time for anything more than platonic affection. He stepped back from the hug and turned to see the rest of the Menagerie walking towards them. Xing hissed and half hid behind Orion, her tail remaining coiled around him.

  The Menagerie lived up to their moniker. Back in Void's Asteroid Prison, a handful of inmates that were too dangerous, too strange or too unpredictable banded together to protect one another. They were an eclectic group, having added the Duke, Xing and Orion to their numbers during their vault run. A motley crew of misfits picked their way across the lawn laden with food and alcohol. The only noticeable absence was their Hiver companion Random Noun. Orion supposed that as the head of the Construction Union, Random was probably with his team having their own gathering.

  “Just a little PDA time,” Orion reassured them. “Xing was just worried because I was avoiding the crowd.”

  Barnad twitched his graying mustache. “Yes, this too we are worrying.”

  Duke Barnad Kholchek was a beast of a Kreelux. He had been dissuaded from wearing his crusader armor to the event. Instead he wore a scarlet military uniform bristling with medals, a pith helmet with red plumage, and his family’s royal green tartan kilt. He had a small keg slung over his shoulder and a heaping plate of food on his other. His rusted brass jetpack had been polished till it glowed in the artificial sunset.

  “My friend! Why do you hide in the woods? You have arranged this touching memorial.” Barnad asked in a thick Highlands brogue.

  Orion smiled wanly, “I didn’t want to make this about me. I barely knew the guards, but Max and the rest of them have lost friends.”

  Duke set the keg down gently and nodded, “This is wisdom.”

  A scarred older Grey with an eyepatch and a square jaw grunted his agreement. Uncle Pyro was a curmudgeon at the best of times, but he too dressed in a charcoal gray suit. Wearing his revolutionary uniform would have been in bad taste. He tapped the keg and poured out the foam before filling the first cup.

  Pyro handed it to Professor Keeroy Queebeax, his pink and green pigeon face set in a goofy grin. He was dressed in a long flowing lab coat but with black button down and tan trousers. His jetpack was shut off, the Jacob's Ladder of crackling electricity silent during the wake.

  “I’ll admit, I didn’t care much for our captors.” Pyro groused, “But all in all, not bad folks. Certainly better than the sociopaths in Void's Asteroid.”

  Queebeax handed Pyro a plate before accepting the beer. The Professor gave Pyro a quick peck on the top of his head before chiding him, “Now, now, this isn’t the time to be a grump, don’tcha know? Besides, they were all good folks who didn’t deserve this.”

  -No one does-, commented Neesya telepathically.

  Neesya was resplendent in a skin tight bodysuit that accentuated the banana yellow skin of her muscular body. The material shone like latex, keeping her amphibious body moist, but a flowing dress had been added along her waist. There were more ruffles on her collar and ruffles on her sleeves, giving her the appearance of a rare exotic fish. Her tentacle hair had been gently pulled back in a neat ponytail. She wore a juvenile terraworm grub like a feather boa, the creature content to snooze around her thick neck.

  Neesya’s gentle voice washed over their minds, -We’ve all faced full grown terraworms before. I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone.-

  The entire group shared a solemn moment of silence at that. Everyone here had fought Soilfang, and they knew the terror of fighting a titanic creature the size of a subway train. Some of them had come out of that fight worse than the others.

  Pyro stared morosely at his glass, “I heard Max says he’ll be retiring their names. Not Gunmetal, obviously, there’ll always be more Gunmetals…But no one’s going to call themselves Tank, Bronco, Hawk or Siren anymore out of respect.”

  “Maybe we could take a poll and have people suggest new names, don’tcha know? Something robust like Tungsten or Brick?” Queebeax said after some thought.

  “Am I the only one who thinks it’s odd they keep giving themselves new nicknames?” Orion asked incredulously. “No one else has trouble keeping it all straight.”

  Barnad shrugged, “I never bother to remember the servant’s names.”

  That statement was met with laughter and groans, and Barnad admitted to merely joking to lighten the mood. The conversation then turned to lighter topics. They told stories about how the fallen five helped out around the city. Not a bad word was said about any of them. Even Tank, who tended to be a bit slow had nothing but glowing praise heaped upon his memory.

  Orion refilled his glass, proffering one to Xing, who shook her head shyly. He raised his glass in salute.

  “Here’s to five brave soldiers who gave everything to protect their city.” Orion met each of their eyes, “May we never forget them.”

  Everyone raised their own glass and toasted the fallen in their respective languages. Even Xing stole Orion’s cup and took a quick swig to show willing.

  Orion sighed and put on his Business Face.

  “I’d better get out there and make an appearance.” Orion said as he detangled himself from Xing. “Keep my place warm, I’ll make the rounds and be right back. Major will keep you company, okay?”

  “Okay,” Xing muttered as she nestled against the furry bulk of the giant cyworg. He could tell she was getting overstimulated, but wanted to be supportive. Major picked on her discomfort and encircled Xing with his head and tail protectively. Some of his puppies plopped down in front of her to create a barrier.

  Orion waved to his friends and set out again. He steered himself toward Max and the surviving guards, ready to offer his sympathies once again. Orion felt a renewed sense of duty bubbling up within him. He was going to protect this city with his life.

  He just hoped he didn’t have a limited number of lives to defend it with.

  The next day Orion met with Max and Slate in the War Room to discuss strategy. The hustle and bustle of the room was muted, and there were fewer people there than normal. When he saw Max nursing a hangover as he poured over the map, he understood why. Barnad was only recently able to get the brewing station built for his bar, Duke’s Palace. Barnard’s new pet project had supplied the kegs for the wake, and some folks had gone overboard. It had probably been many years since any of the inmates had access to real alcoholic libations.

  Orion had ended up drinking with most of the Union leaders, the guards, merchants and anyone else who just wanted to meet the Governor of Phoenix. But thanks to his regenerative abilities, Orion was feeling no ill effects this morning. Being an Org had its advantages.

  Orion sat next to Max, “How are you holding up, Sport?”

  Max groaned miserably and buried his face on crossed arms in response.

  Ssteev walked up with a large tumbler full of water, his baby jakantelope Jaak sitting serenely on his shoulder. The lanky Jrassk set the water down gently and smiled at Orion.

  “Mom says he’ll live, but he has to keep hydrated.” Ssteev answered, “Thanks again for the memorial, Mr. Starbeard. The fellas really appreciated it.”

  Orion gave Ssteev a pat on the back, “It was my pleasure, son.”

  The door to the war room opened and Barnad strode in, wearing a bright floral patterned shirt and a boisterous expression. He drank like an absolute champion the night before but rolled in fresh as a daisy. Behind him were the few Union heads that didn’t drink themselves into oblivion the night before.

  One of those was a cheerful Hiver with marigold fur and auburn stripes. He was perched on Barnad’s jetpack, swinging his legs and sucking on a pilfered lollipop from the Med Bay. He was wearing a black shirt and matching suit, and expensive-looking gold chain around his neck. Random’s emerald gem eyes spotted Orion from his seat and he waved his two left arms enthusiastically.

  Hello, My Queen!, Random dance-talked at Orion with a shake of his abdomen.

  Mayor Slate took a seat at the table.

  “Is this everyone?” Slate sounded annoyed. He had stuck with water the whole night, preferring to stay sober for the event. He was met with a smattering of pained groans.

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  As the others took seats around the table, Slate sighed. “Fine, it’ll do for now. We can fill in any other leaders later. Pewter, can you record this session?”

  A holographic green Grey secretary appeared on Slate’s shoulders, “Recording, Sir.”

  Slate folded his hands, “Thank you all for joining me. Now that you’ve seen Bitterling’s threat, you understand why I’ve been so busy trying to fortify our defenses. We have three weeks before we face a full assault on our city.”

  Slate tapped the round table and a holographic topographic map appeared in the center. In the very middle of the map was Phoenix. Most of the outskirts of the city were blank, like slices carved out of a cake. It showed the crater to the west, the broken mining rig hanging precariously over the center. Around the crater was Jolt Lake and the Lightning Spires, home to flairmingos and batterams respectively. A long path to the east led to the highway Route 77, terminating at the Bone Dome. The Bone Dome was the former base of the Ghost Stalker cyworg pack before Major Canis took over as Alpha. A path to the north cut across a dry riverbed and stopped at a cliffside. There it showed UF Equinox. The dilapidated UFO was the last attempt of the Orgs to escape their dying world, as well as the vault where the Menagerie trained for the past month. Finally, to the west showed the progress of Gunmetal and the guards, abruptly being cut off after their convoy was attacked.

  There was some light conversation as the union leaders examined the map. This was the first time most of them had seen it. Because of the toxic air, it was impossible to safely traverse the desert landscape without backup BioSuits. Or one of the newly refurbished hovercars being repaired by the Machinist Union.

  Slate continued, “Most of what we know about the surface of Org?a comes from Orion’s exploration. Gunmetal volunteered to go west to uncover the source of the weather, which we suspected might be controlled somehow.”

  The leader of the Machinist Union, Jack MacTruck, stood on his chair and shimmied, Why you suspect that?

  Slate pulled a portable water heater out of his inventory and set it on the table. He slapped the top of it, then produced a mug and filled it. After plopping a tea bag into the steaming water to steep he turned back to the gathering.

  Slate explained, “Org?a supposedly had unparalleled terraforming technology before its destruction. The Zoo with its various biomes surviving all these centuries is proof enough of that. Plus, a sandstorm that appears every seven days without fail was highly suspicious. Isn’t it possible the Orgs could literally change the weather?”

  A dozen pairs of eyes fell on Orion at that question. The grinning Org slowly realized all the attention on him and held up his hands defensively. “Don’t ask me. That was all before my time.”

  “Assuming some machine is controlling the weather, I suspect Bitterling has control over it.” Slate said, zooming in on the western crash sight. “Whether or not he’s responsible for the attack on Gunmetal’s search party is unclear. But his threat was. If we send someone out to discover what is responsible for the weather, it’ll result in retaliation.”

  Raggamuffin, the buxom Jo’Qin and head of the Merchant Union, spoke up with a southern drawl. “What are we to do then? Those recent storms have been nasty.”

  Borok Gwok, the Rokaos in charge of the Smuggler’s Union, spoke up next. “Worse, if it hits the crater and wakes up the Cy-Orgs it would be a catastrophe! Not to mention the Terraworm Matriarch.”

  The hubbub started again and Slate called for silence.

  Slate spoke soothingly, “Yes, we’re all aware of the issues. Which is why I’ve brought you in on this. We need ideas. Something Max and I haven’t thought of yet.”

  It was quiet as the others thought. While the collective was pondering the problem, Max stood up with a groan.

  “I’m going to be opening up recruitment again,” mumbled Max. “We’ve had a lot of new colonists wanting to train as guards. Maybe we could get some of them leveled up in the UF Equinox.’

  Orion opened his mouth to protest, but he was cut off my Barnad.

  “Is too dangerous for just guards.” The Duke stated, “Even with Max and his experience. But if the Menagerie accompanies them, and sticks to the first section avoiding the Food Court King, this is possible.”

  Orion nodded, “Yeah, even the Soda Pop Ants will drop some serious XP to lower leveled folks. Not to mention better equipment, even if it is ugly as sin. But I want no fewer than four Explorer’s Union members on duty when they make the run.”

  Max nodded, “Agreed.”

  Duke slapped the table, “Seconded. Captain, you will contact me when you want to make a run. The Professor can make a Gate to the Equinox when you are ready.”

  “I’ll put out the word for new recruits then.” Max sat back down as Ssteev reappeared to top off his water.

  “Speaking of the Professor, it is imperative that we get the BioDome over the main base of Phoenix. It should be enough to protect us from any dangerous weather.” Slate said. “After all, it protected most of New Yorg from a meteor strike.”

  “But not the citizens,” Orion said glumly.

  Eyes darted to look in the corner. Rusty the Cy-Org janitor was mopping the floor. Blissfully unaware of the scrutiny, the custodial robot continued his quest to clean the base. He wasn’t dangerous if people stayed out of the range of his caution cones. So long as the bucket wedged on his oxidized foot was filled with soapy water, that is.

  “It might not help with the air, or whatever cybernetic virus is afflicting you, Orion.” Slate mused. “But if it keeps the worst of the storms off of us, we can focus on building more floors below.”

  Max spoke up, “That’s one advantage we have over them. Bitterling doesn’t know about the subterranean levels. He and the deserters were escorted out the front doors immediately after they woke up. Worst case, we can hole up in the lower levels and seal off the main base for a little bit.”

  Or zoo if needed, danced MacTruck. My crew finish repairs on Org habitat. Could camp there as last resort.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Slate muttered. He turned to the “I don’t want to leave the people still stored in cryosleep unprotected. Borok, how are we on gathering supplies for the turrets and BioDome?”

  Borok cleared his throat, “we’ve been working with the Slumgum Gang to locate likely spots to scavenge dome discs. We’ve dredged up a few collapsed areas, but we don’t want to remove any more active shields. We don’t know how much damage it might cause. The entire dome could come crashing down.”

  “And that could take Phoenix right along with it,” Orion added. “We’re sitting right on top of it.”

  Borok continued, “We’re focusing on gathering parts to build new discs. It’s slower, but safer, we’ve located a few junkyards, and abandoned freeways are a good source of vehicles. Prime scrap gathering there.”

  MacTruck wiggled, You find transport trucks, we repair them. No problem!

  Orion watched all this with wonder. Something akin to pride was welling up inside him. When he started this adventure, he was all alone. Now he had people to depend on. Reliable people. He’d felt responsible for Gunmetal’s death when he returned to Phoenix. Now he realized this is what leadership was all about. There was no way for him to micromanage everything that happened in this city. He had good people in charge, with different skill sets.

  He needed to get back to what he was good at.

  “I think I need to go exploring again.” Orion said suddenly.

  Everyone turned to him, waiting for their leader to gather his thoughts. Orion stood and moved the map, sliding the riverbed to the center of the screen. Tapping it, he traced the river with his finger.

  “When I went north, Apus was able to get a bird’s eye view along the river. Right around here, he saw another crater.” Orion indicated a section of blank space on the map. “That suggests there might be another buried city. Or another landmark that might have its own dome.”

  He left that statement hanging in the air. The quicker thinkers in the room craned their heads to see where he was pointing.

  “You’re saying there might be another dome we could scavenge?” Raggamuffin inquired. “One that wouldn’t threaten our own home.”

  Orion smiled, “It’s possible.”

  Slate tapped his chin thoughtfully, “Of course we’ll have to ensure there’s no survivors that would be threatened by a cave-in.”

  “Or a zoo with living animals in it!” Ssteev cut in urgently.

  “Exactly. An exploration mission,” Orion agreed. “It’s what I’m good at. I’ll set out in a day or so while you guys fortify the city. Just keep me updated this time, Slate.”

  Slate was taken aback, “You’d trust me to run things here? After everything that happened?”

  Orion gave this serious consideration, “Yes. It was a good call. I would have probably done the same thing in your shoes. Though, I probably would have just gone myself. None of this is your fault, no one could have predicted what would happen.”

  Slate collapsed back on his chair with a look of relief. He took a steadying breath and picked up his mug in a shaky hand. After a few sips of his tea, Slate seemed to compose himself.

  “Thank you, Governor. I won’t let you down,” Slate promised.

  Orion scoffed, “What’s all this Governor, shit? Slate, you are my oldest friend here in Phoenix. Don’t think just because we had a fight that any of that changed. You got this, man, I just want to be involved.”

  Slate chuckled, “Right, sorry. Of course. Well, I think that’s the best we can do for now. Let’s get started and we can work out details over video chat if there’s any questions or updates. If anyone thinks of something that might help fortify our defenses, let me know. Unless anyone has any new business, let’s have a meeting with the rest of the Union heads next we-”

  Pewter interrupted him, “Sir, Xing has an urgent message for you.”

  Slate’s brow wrinkled. “Put it on screen.”

  A video image popped up, showing Xing bundled up in a nest of blankets on her bed. A collection of stuffed animals was piled up at the head of the bed, a large ichthyosaur was propped under her like a pillow. Despite the cozy vibe, Xing was surrounded by HUD windows monitoring different areas of the colony.

  “Mayor, my security cameras just picked up someone approaching the city from the west.” Xing croaked.

  Slate shot a look at Max before focusing on Xing.

  “Hostile?” He asked.

  “I don’t think so. He looks hurt,” Xing responded. “I think it might be Gunmetal!”