The rusted doors scream in protest as Oliver pushes, the flickering lights regaining their former strength and revealing a vessel at the center of the hangar.

  Astrid’s eyes go wide when she sees it. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but she certainly didn’t expect a giant brick. The grime and dust were as clear as day, maintenance drones flew up and down to finish last-minute leg work, the Archosite hull had started to show signs of advanced age, and the scars of the battle of the remains of major repairs were present.

  She is revolted by this, and her stomach starts to work up a storm. There was no way this was Tidak’s ship, this ancient, flying brick of a vessel that looked as though it was operating on half-shoddy equipment and the power of duct tape.

  “Oh, don’t look at it like that.” Tidak pats Astrid on the shoulder.

  “She’s old and hasn’t flown in a while, but trust me, this thing has survived countless space storms and pirate attacks, and I still stand!”

  “Wait, this thing hasn’t flown in years?!”

  The old lady’s laughter fills the room. Astrid isn’t feeling assured; her eyes squinted as she gritted her teeth.

  “I haven’t got a reason to get it up into space again. The last time this thing flew was about five years ago, when I helped that photographer take pictures of Sebirsk. She can fly, trust me! In fact…”

  Tidak snaps her fingers, and Oliver nods.

  The young man walks over to an underground compartment and retrieves a large container before placing it close to the ship.

  The drones rush him like a swarm of locusts and start attaching multiple hoses to the container and flying to various parts of the ship.

  “Heh, let the magic begin!” Oliver releases the valve, and the hoses suddenly start glowing with a strange power. Tidak smiles while Astrid raises an eyebrow – The ship is covered in a strange, purple-colored dust, and soon, purple electricity started to form, hitting every part of the ship.

  “Wow, hey! That’s gonna damage it!” Astrid is just about to make a run for the exit to get help, but is stopped by Tidak.

  “Wait, my dear, look!”

  Astrid looks at her, confused, and then back at the vessel. Her eyes dart left and right as she sees what happened next.

  The purple dust is giving the ship some sort of glow, as though it had been blessed by the Gods. As the dust slowly evaporated by the currents of electricity, the dust and smears that gave the hull an ugly look started to peel off, revealing a new, shiny hull growing underneath it, the hull regrowing and healing itself.

  When the last of the dust was gone and the electrical currents gone, what was once a hunk of junk now looks as good as new.

  Astrid is flabbergasted, completely blindsided by what she has just seen. Now, it looks fresh off the production floor, giving it new life and purpose.

  “W-what was that? How did you do that?”

  Astrid can see Oliver’s smile, so wide that he may as well make it reach to his ears.

  “You don’t know much about ships, do you, Miss Astrid? Hehe, well, this is hull repair dust, it’s essentially a type of particle that has been infused with concentrated amounts of psychic energy, which reacts when it gets into contact with the archosite hulls of ships… What happens is that the dust excites the archosite, activating its self-growing trait and repairing the vessel’s structure. It's some really useful stuff, certainly makes my job easier, hah!”

  “Archosite… Ooh! Isn’t that the super metal that’s used in a lot of other things? Cars, tanks, power armor, metal beams, and the like? Didn’t know starships were made of that material, too.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know, my dear, and to be frank, you never had an interest in researching that for yourself to begin with.” Tidak’s word struck a chord, and Astrid couldn’t deny that allegation and scratched her head, and smiled.

  “But yes, you’re right – Now, let’s not dillydally, get your things, we’re leaving.”

  Oliver and Astrid walk back to get their things. Tidak strides over to a container nearby. She fiddles around with the large box and soon manages to activate its anti-gravity feature, causing it to float in the air. She did the same with a few other boxes and linked them all together with chains before taking them on board, the ship’s ramp opening as soon as it detected her presence.

  Stopping just short of the ship’s bridge, she types in the password and opens up the rusted box. Her eyes betray a sense of longing as the old woman takes out what was inside. The old STG-85 assault rifle she now holds in her hands is old, the scars of battle present upon its otherwise smooth metal surface, with its magazines lying on top of each other in the dozens within the container unit.

  Tidak sighs, though a civilian-model assault rifle reminded her of the weapon she held in her youth, serving in the Teuton Imperial army. The scenes from her service were burned into her memory.

  The relentless battles against one of the Teuton Empire’s principal opponents: the Karolingian Empire. Her heart races as she remembers the glory and terror of it all, directing Panzergrenadiers in the heat of battle, acting as the spearhead that broke their counterparts, as they had done a thousand times before. The day she received her Eye of Heaven medal was her proudest.

  Yet all the screams and pain remain, forever muddying those times in her mind. The music of the battlefield, played by artillery, guns, and advanced weaponry, is a symphony of devastation. Magnificent yet terrible.

  Tidak didn’t regret it, however. The nation called, and she answered.

  Though the assault rifle she had in her hand wasn’t the same one she used as a soldier, it allowed her to push through till she got to Sebirsk when she made the trip with her significant other. Surely, it will serve her well again.

  Just then, Astrid and Oliver got on board, placing their bags in one of the storage compartments.

  Oliver makes his way to the bridge. “I’ll start making preparations and bringing this old girl outside.”

  Tidak looks over to the young half-elf, who is fiddling with something in her bag.

  “Okay… Looks like everything is here, lil’sis is back home in the care of Tidak’s associates… Ready to go!”

  “You heard her, get ready to take off, Oliver!”

  “Jawohl!”

  As if to show off her gear, Astrid pulls out an object from her bag.

  A floating cube-like object bound by overlapping rings, with a central spike running through the cube at the center. A type of weapon unique to elves, a conduit.

  “Hey, hey! Careful with that thing.”

  “Huh? Oh, relax, Granny, I’m an elf, I know my alchemy.” Astrid says.

  “Right, just be careful with that thing, oh, and don’t use your alchemy unless needed, the last thing I need is a repeat of ‘the incident’ from five years ago.”

  To this, Astrid scratches the back of her head and laughs nervously.

  Elves, even half-elves like Astrid, have access to truly unique weapons and are known to be excellent practitioners of a psychic discipline called Alchemy.

  Since psychic energy is power derived from the divine and gifted to the mortals of the galaxy long ago by the Gods, the Elves in their nation have found a way to better channel it. Where other species have simply been using psychic energy in its raw form, the elves use the power given unto them far more elegantly.

  Most mortal species simply use the Aspect system. When mortals have ‘Psychic awakenings’ and are gifted the power of the divine, they may receive one of many ‘Aspects’, each corresponding with an element.

  The Aspect of war holds dominion over Pyro. The Aspect of heaven, the element of Electro, and space. Aspect of life holds dominion over Hydro, and the list goes on and on.

  It is said that in a time long forgotten, Aurelian, the Architect God and the one responsible for creating the universe as they know it, split the Aspect of creation, the pure untainted power of the Gods, into the lesser Aspects of life, war, and others to gift to mortals who prove worthy of the power and responsibility.

  Elves are on a whole other level, however.

  The elves have used psychic energy to conjure up objects via the art of alchemical transmutation, converting matter into another state. They have used alchemy to power their planets by converting matter into pure energy via their alchemical power plants and countless other examples.

  Perhaps no other species can match the Elves in regard to their unique way of utilizing psychic energy. In the case of combat, the elves do not use conventional weapons. Instead, they use objects known as conduits.

  Alchemy-based weapons are designed to utilize the Elven species’s natural affinity to psychic energy as a kind of ammunition. Converting that innate energy into energy attacks or converting them into physical spikes is known to be armor-piercing.

  Either way, truly unique weapons. One that Astrid and her whole family have become intimately familiar with.

  By elven standards, most other Psychics look like morons who simply throw around elemental power using sheer force of will—none of the finesse and fine control of the elves and their Alchemy.

  While certainly not the upper limit of what her kind can do, as a mere novice in the art of Alchemy, she will have to make do.

  …

  As Oliver lines the ship up for take-off, Tidak prays to the Gods that “the incident” would not happen twice, even as she hears the control tower giving the all-clear for takeoff.

  “Hey! Get into your seats!”

  Snapping herself out of it, Tidak slings her rifle around and straps herself in. Across from her, Astrid did the same thing, though she tried to hide it; the worry in her eyes did not lie. She must have so much on her mind right now. Still, her resolve remained unchanged.

  “Commencing take off.”

  The rattling of the ship as its anti-gravity generators lifted it off the ground is a first for Astrid. She clings to her seat lightly, even as the vessel gets more stable.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Just then, her face turns to pure terror as Oliver accelerates the ship. Astrid closed her eyes; the first few minutes felt like an eternity had passed, as the vessel accelerated to speeds she didn’t think were possible.

  It feels as though the planet’s gravity is going to rip her apart. Her grip got harder. What was she to do in this situation? This puts earthquakes to shame.

  The ordeal goes on for another few minutes, and the young elf could feel the ship tilt sideways as it tries to climb out of the gravity of the planet. She tries to open her eyes, but finds that her body is resisting her.

  All she can do right now is listen to the beeping of machines, the rattling of the vessel, and Oliver saying terms to the controller on the surface that she does not understand.

  Suddenly, the shaking stops. The rattling continued for a short bit before silence. It takes much effort for Astrid to consider opening her eyes, only for her to hear Tidak chuckle.

  “Open your eyes.”

  Finally, and with much effort, Astrid managed to open them up and looked upon the endless ocean of stars beyond the pilot’s seat.

  She was breathing rapidly, but there was a strange feeling of euphoria after it, mixing in with the adrenaline, fear, and excitement. Never before had she dreamed of reaching the stars, much less in this fashion with Granny and Oliver.

  She places her hand on her chest and starts to laugh softly.

  “That… That was my first… Trip to space, hah, hahaha!”

  “That’s not even the half of it!” Oliver exclaims.

  He reaches for the controls and starts fiddling with the systems.

  “Coordinates locked in, next stop… The crash site. Huh? Oh! Looks like it's not that far away, we’ll be in there in a day!”

  He looks back at the two.

  “I’ll make preparations for the jump in a few moments. In the meantime, could you two check the storage compartments and secure them? The last thing we want is things flying around.”

  “Where did you learn to operate this thing?” Astrid asks.

  Oliver smiles, “I’m a wanderer!”

  Tidak looks down at the boxes of weapons, bound by magnetic locks. As unmoving as they were. Suddenly, however, the vessel is filled with the unmistakable sound of pained moaning.

  “Was that you, Astrid?”

  “N-no, and Oliver is up there busy with the ship controls.”

  The pair disengages their harnesses and goes over to the source of the sound – A door leading to a smaller part of the ship, where rations and extra supplies are stored by the dozens in crates.

  Inputting the password, the doors hiss as they slide open, and cold air escapes as the light flickers on, but no sooner had they stepped in when they noticed something, a figure, standing at the corner of the room.

  Cloaked and holding tightly to boxes, the figure is on their knees, rocking back and forth.

  Tidak’s heart hardens, her eyes narrowing while Astrid reaches for her conduit. Tidak looks at her assault rifle, and the two slowly approach. Tidak’s head starts to focus, and her body reacts instinctively. It is all coming back to her, the sneaking, the night raids, knife in hand as she crawls through the mud and blasted earth.

  Without warning, she lunges forward and tackles the cloaked figure. Tidak is about to slam the intruder into the wall when a familiar voice calls out, “Wait! Wait! Don’t hurt me, it’s just me!”

  Eyes dilating, Tidak turns the intruder around and removes the hoodie, much to her horror.

  “Dori?!”

  The little elf rocks her body back and forth as though to try to charm her way out.

  “I’m sorry! I couldn't stay in one place, I… I didn’t want to leave big sis alone!”

  Realizing the gravity of the situation, Astrid runs out of the room, practically sprinting toward the bridge.

  “Oliver, wait! Don’t make the jump!”

  But by then it was too late.

  Oliver flips the switch, and in an instant, a psychic tunnel opens up in front of the ship before the vessel just as quickly enters it, the rift closing behind them. The insides of the tunnel are beautiful, like a painting done by the masters of ancient times.

  They are a beautiful mix of many different colors and hues, swirling round and round and stretching as the vessel accelerated forward.

  But these tunnels are massive; all psychic tunnels can support the transit of entire armadas, crisscrossing across the galaxy. Indeed, there is no place where there aren’t any tunnels to support space travel; they grow naturally, like the great branches of a grand interstellar tree.

  Astrid sighs, much to the confusion of Oliver, who turns around, “Sorry, did you say something?”

  Astrid can only close her eyes in acceptance as she approaches her seat. Following closely behind are Dori and Tidak.

  Oliver’s eyes got smaller at the sight of them, then a realization hit him. He looks back at the controls and sees that the ship’s course had been pre-locked before departure.

  Pre-locking is a common anti-hijacking feature that ensures the vessel will reach its destination no matter what. Which is to say that they couldn’t turn back until they got there.

  Brilliant for ensuring potential hijackers would get caught immediately, but in this case, it means only one thing for the stowaway.

  Astrid stares at her sister. The innocent facade she put up slowly disappears, replaced with a sense of guilt as her older sister nods disapprovingly.

  Either way, there is no point in fighting over it now; she was stuck here with them.

  Seeing the tense situation, Oliver presses a few buttons, unlocking the minifridge compartment.

  “Hey, Dori, you want some food? We got some in there, just microwave them!”

  He said cheerily.

  …

  Interstellar travel requires three things to work. The first was a spaceworthy ship. The second is psychic tunnels, and the third is a ship spirit.

  The first two are relatively easy to come by; space-worthy vessels come in many shapes and sizes and for every conceivable purpose. Psychic tunnels are ubiquitous all over the galaxy as well; even the youngest and smallest tunnel can support a sizable fleet of warships.

  It is the ship spirit that proves the most difficult to obtain.

  Ship spirits are entities that live among the stars and can access the tunnels at will. All travel is only possible because a spirit possesses a vessel and uses it as a host body, which in turn allows that vessel to travel the stars by working in tandem with the spirit within.

  The only way you can get a spirit to inhabit the vessel is by finding one, typically wandering space storms where they feast upon the massive psychic energy reserves, and then getting it to agree to a contract to inhabit a ship. Often, with the promise of being able to feed off of an eternity of energy, something only governments can provide with regular feeding sessions on the vessel’s psychic power cores.

  With the energy they crave, any privately owned vessels that wish to have interstellar traveler capabilities would need the government to find a willing spirit among the stars and have that spirit agree to the bargain. It is a slow and tedious process that could take years, as government and military ships take priority for having a spirit.

  Tidak’s ship wasn’t any exception to this, and right now, the old lady is attempting to get the spirit to talk, relentlessly pressing the intercom’s buttons.

  “Dromon, come now, show us your ethereal form… We need to talk.”

  A young, ghostly, almost echoing voice replied, “The contract did not say anything about me talking to the people inside, you know that.”

  “Oh, enough of your musings! That's the excuse you had last time, now come on, we need your help.”

  A faint sigh comes from the intercom, “Fine. But on one condition.”

  “And that is?” Tidak asks.

  “I want to get treated to psychic crystals again, of the purest kind, not the weakening ones powering the ship’s energy core.”

  Tidak rubbed her eyes, “Fine. But just this once, you’re gonna drain the marks out of this old lady’s pockets!”

  Astrid and Dori notice a faint mist forming, gathering, and rising at the center of the bridge. The younger elf looks on with wonder, chuckling to herself while her older elf instinctively holds Dori’s arm.

  From the mist, a shape, a humanoid, is taking form. The silence of the bridge is about to be shattered by a mystic fog.

  Soon enough, the mist dissipates into nothingness as it is pushed aside, as though struck by the most powerful fans in the galaxy, and in its place stands a figure.

  It took a few moments for the pair to realize that the figure was ethereal, a ghostly child that looked no shorter than Dori.

  The spirit takes on the form of a little boy, a massive straw hat masking his face, as clothes begin to manifest out of thin air. As his form takes on its final details, the spirit grumbles to himself as he turns around and faces the two siblings – Sharp eyes immediately piercing them like a pair of spears, betraying just how old he is despite his looks.

  Tidak approaches the spirit, looking at the two siblings with a warm smile.

  “Astrid, Dori, meet Dromon, he’s this ship’s spirit and was the one who got my husband and me to Sebirsk all those years ago.”

  Dromon crossed his arms, “Hmpf. Does taking me in a hangar bay for years on end count as your way of saying thank you?”

  He briefly looks at the ceiling,

  “Oh, enough of that! Besides, you can just pop in and out as you please. That and we brought you out this time, didn’t we?” Tidak answers.

  “Ugh… I suppose so…” Dromon says, trying to hide his eyes, “So, what’s the reason for summoning me this time? I sincerely hope it isn’t a repeat of the hole-in-the-wall incident.”

  “Could you tell these two youngsters more about the Black Host? We’re here because we’re looking for their mother, who was shot down by them.”

  “Ah…”

  Dromon rubbed his chin.

  “So it’s those devils again… Well, I'll give you a basic run down but you have to promise me that you won’t get disturbed.”

  “We’re tough, come on, tell us,” Astrid answers.

  “The Black Host is a pirate group, a raider army, a terrorist group, and a warlord army all rolled into one. They might be one of the most dangerous groups in the galaxy; they’ve raided countless worlds and sacked entire systems for their wealth and have committed a great number of atrocities. Raiding… Looting… Terrorizing… Killing.”

  Dromon is visibly getting angrier.

  After a short while, the ship spirit continues, “The Black Host was founded by a group of convicts from a huge penal colony called Fenrhow. It was a huge place back in its day, but the prisoners, among them terrorists, war criminals, murderers, and all manner of society’s worst, broke free and made an escape. After that, they took Fenrhow as their own… These criminals would later form the Black Host and then terrorize the galaxy, as they broke open more penal worlds, and many more volunteered to fly their banner.”

  Dromon begins counting with his hands, “It took them many years, but eventually, they carved out a part of the galaxy for themselves.”

  Astrid’s eyes narrow; she doesn’t realize that she was covering up Dori’s ears.

  “Wow, that’s heavy.”

  “That’s the sort and long of it; there’s more information there, but for now, it will suffice.”

  Dromon looks out the window and raises his hand, “We’re here.”

  Suddenly, another huge wormhole appears in front of them, and the vessel reenters real space. The experience is something else; it is like their bodies are lucid and free-flowing as they enter familiar reality before snapping back to normal. They came out near the planet, Dori marveling at its sheer size.

  The world before them is a marvelous orb of white and light blues. An ice world that seems to shine in the void, guiding any traveler through the stars and having them land on its surface for rest.

  It almost looks like a pearl amidst the canvas of space. The perfect piece for any artist to use as their subject matter, especially for the romantically inclined.

  However, just then, alarms start blaring in the cockpit. Oliver looks around and then back at his companions.

  “Hey! Man the guns, we got company!”

  Without warning, the ship is suddenly rocked with violent shaking as the group sees psychic fire outside the cockpit, followed by even more explosions as Oliver speeds up the ship.

  As they scan the void, they see the distinct red glow of energy bolts flying overhead, followed by the forms of smaller starships, firing at them and barely missing the ship as Oliver maneuvers skillfully.

  “Man the guns, it's the Black Host!”