Rieven woke to darkness. He swore. Looks like I forgot to turn on the lights again before I crashed. Why do I keep doing that? How hard is it to not lose my mind like a sleep drunk four year old? He looked around the room thoughtfully. On the other hand, he figured, I can see in this dark just fine, even without watching the axial flows. How strange. There should be no light for my eyes, however draconic, to pick up on.

  He looked curiously at a tapestry hung from the wall. Every colour was represented in perfect hue, though slightly muted, as though he were viewing it through a filtered lens of some kind. He looked down at his hand and as the axiom flowing passively through his laces and began to wonder. How much of my nature was changed by the dream-octopus connecting to my axiomatic pattern?

  He looked over at the black box, and willed the shields transparent. He could see inside the water, which was dark. How do you get dark water? It was fabricated on the Hidden Dagger, but I’m not sure what makes it dark. It looks like a seabed five klicks down. With the shields actively pressing inwards as well as providing shape, the resting atmospheric pressure is closer to ten klicks beneath the surface; dark water is dense, denser than water water. He laughed.

  Time for some answers, he thought. Rieven spun a thread of axiom through the lace that served as his connexion to the dream-octopus. He sent the impression of a question: Can we talk now?

  Immediately he received a response: We can, for I require a rest, but only for a few moments. If I don’t conquer the walls of this pearl in time, I will never hatch, and slowly wither away into death.

  Rieven marvelled at how eloquent the little guy had grown. The impression of amused scorn travelled back to him. He snorted. Of course the dream-octopus was eloquent, he was learning Operatic Standard in the most efficient way, and he had been alive and aware for more years than Rieven hoped to ever live. He was clever, cunning, and intelligent. He sent back: Do you have any understanding of how our connexion is changing us? For some reason, whenever the dream-octopus referenced the axiomatic lace that ran between them, he referred to it with the archaic ‘connexion’ rather than the standard ‘connection’. Something about the pronunciation combined with their mental and emotional nearness made it loudly evident. Rieven saw no reason to fight it, pick you hill to die on and be willing to abandon all others. This was not a death-hill. Not even close.

  I am communicating with language. That is new. That is a newness my kind does not indulge in. Our ancient ways reign still within the dark between the stars. The thought/emotion sendings are what we rely on. It is neither better nor worse than what you and I are exchanging, however, I find my ability to express myself when thought/emotion is combined with words is gratifyingly pleasing. I like having words to form my thought/emotions. Thank you.

  The wave of gratitude that came Rieven’s way was not overwhelming, but it was bone-deep and true; that made it overwhelming to him, and he wiped his eye. He sent back: You are very welcome, my little friend. I am glad that you are more able to express yourself. There is a freedom in that which is oft overlooked.

  I gain freedom of expression. You, Rieven, gain freedom of constraints.

  What do you mean?

  Darkness constrains your ability to see. Pressure constrains your ability to maintain your form. Your axiomatic pattern constrains your ability to control your form. Your axiomatic pattern governs all. You began the process of learning it intimately and even applying some changes to it. My gift to you through our connexion from my kind is the ability to more freely adjust your axiomatic pattern according to subconscious need. You needed to be able to see through the dark because you kept leaving the light off, so your id rewrote your axiomatic pattern to account for that. Do not fear, he sent as a flood of terror ran through Rieven’s veins, you shall not ever subconsciously rewrite your axiomatic pattern in a way that is contrary to your sense of self. That is what governs all. Keep that in mind. Even intentional change cannot overwrite your sense of self without pulling you apart. Think of it as a safety net. You will see more changes, though physical ones are unlikely, as you see yourself as human, and only human. Concerns?

  Rieven thought for a moment, then decided he needed more time and took another three. He wiped sweat from his brow to keep it from running into his eyes. I’m overwriting my axiomatic patterns. In. My. Sleep. He drew a breath as deeply as he could, held it for a twelve count, and then slowly released it in a twenty-four count. My sense of self will always be true. I can never violate that sense of self in my sleep, nor can I do so consciously without grave consequence. The pain from his botched axiomatic surgery flashed in his mind. Ok, he thought, so when I fail axiomatically in this arena, I’ll know.

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  He drew another deep breath and slowly released it. He repeated the process a fourth time. He felt himself slowly coming around to the truth. It wasn’t as bad as he had feared. This was actually a boon – he could get what he needed without ever being unhappy with the results so long as he waited. Evolution, he supposed, was what I’m granted. Evolution in real time. The implications of that are staggering. What can I do with this? How can my navy use this?

  He saw futures where he guided others down the path of axiomatic evolution. Humanity already possessed the ability to do this, just more slowly and under fifteen separate security clearances. I can guide an entire navy along this path, lone-wolf wartime exigencies permit the lawful removal of those seals on humanity. I can do this. What will we become?

  The answer bubbled up softly, but undeniably, from within himself: We will become the Black Drake Navy, the spec ops navy of the Operatic Empire. We will be deadly, we will be efficient, we will be effective, we will be necessary. Excitement coursed through his heart and mind. He sent back: I have no valid concerns at this point. Thank you for your gift. I will learn from it and begin to teach others the way.

  This is good. I must return to my work, Rieven-friend. Be well.

  Their conversation ended and Rieven looked around. It was a much more exciting room he found himself in now that he had context for what was going on. He stood and brushed his rumpled clothing. Sleeping in his uniform never turned out well. The good news was that he had a ship full of marines who didn’t care, and a closet full of replacements on the way. Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.

  He opened the door and saw only private Grief and private Steeltoe waiting for him in the Internal Domicile. They saluted him as he walked over. He responded and asked, “What has happened, I understood my Adjunct would wait for me?”

  “Well, sir, you see,” started Grief, “there’s only so much they can wait for you on and this was important, sir. They found dragons in the bottom of the hold.”

  Rieven pulled his head back slightly, “Dragons? How did they stowaway without us knowing? Heat Death promised me. Big Red swore!” He could feel himself getting more and more worked up as he considered that the one thing he had trusted about the dragon was proved false.

  “No, not that, sir!” Steeltoe was waving his hands frantically. “They’re not stowaways. They’re baby dragons. Looks like Blind-eye had those swimming around the lower ponds, no idea if they are his relations or not, they got the doc working on it, but they just grew their legs and are crawling around. Adjunct and Sarn’t went down to looksee and plan.”

  “Plus Martinez,” added Grief.

  “Martinez?” asked Rieven.

  “Yeah, Martinez was trying to tackle ‘em so’s he could cage ‘em and get the bounty for new living species. Adjunct threatened to wipe every member of their squad if one of those dragons died. Then he and Sarn’t ran out like they were on fire. I didn’t know Sarn’t could run anymore, lost good money there.” He looked sadly at Steeltoe, who patted his pockets and grinned.

  Rieven smiled. “Very well then, I’ll leave that for now. Let’s go get a report on the status of this ship. I’m tired of not being able to trust it.”

  They fell in behind him as he made his way through the corridors to the Mess. It was still chaotic, but he could tell progress was being made. He walked up to Werner, who he could see returning from wherever he had been having fun. “Chief Engineer Werner!” he called as he neared.

  The man jerked when he heard his name called. He looked up and calmed when he saw it was Rieven. “Commandant, I was in my head and you scared me.”

  “What were you in your head looking at?” Rieven asked as he stopped in front of the man.

  “This ship is wonderous. Did you know that it’s meant to be a portable living quarters? It’s designed to connect to a larger ship and be the means of escape for the upper crew? I think we can fashion something workable in seven days based on the available wreckage floating around us. Not all of the dragon’s ships are utter trash. Several were merely disabled. I think we can get them working well enough for a tethering.”

  “Do you really want to undertake a tethering with all that’s going on now? We have our own ships that are not well.”

  “Yes. We need to. We can’t leave them. We can’t. We need all we can get to make it back to Homeworld. I’ll guarantee we can get three ships stripped of bodies, searched, scoured, with SI adjustments loaded to their computers in seven days. Give me two hundred marines and twenty engineers. I’ll see it done, sir. I swear it. Once we have breathing room outside of the draconic empire, we can do a proper job of three months. You people need to train them anyways, so that’ll work out just fine.”

  Rieven’s mind reeled. Seven days. How was that possible? “How is that possible Werner? How?”

  “Well, sir, the draconic vessels are made to be tethered together into something larger. It’s common here. All we have to do is clear them and then fix the disabled sections. The tethering should be only a few hours’ work. I have the SIs working on the most efficient configuration. Once we have time later, I’ll make it permanent. It will work, sir.”

  “Don’t.” Rieven said.

  “What?” Werner looked like his puppy had just died in his arms.

  “Don’t make it permanent. Can you imagine what an enemy would do if several of our ships broke into smaller ones during our fight? Chaos. Absolute bloody, wonderful chaos.” There was a reverent note in Rieven’s tone now, almost worshipful. “Don’t make it permanent, make it strong. Strong enough to hold as if it were permanent, and easy enough to untether at a command. You have delivered the next evolution of our navy, Werner. You get one full share of salvage rights for this, final approval of your selection pending.”

  The excitement filling Werner’s eyes looked almost manic. “Sir, we’ve almost completed the clearing of the Death’s Silence. We will be done within the hour. I’ll move our team to the next suitable vessel after. Thank you! Thank you sir!” He shook Rieven’s hand violently, saluted, and then spun away to see his vison enacted.

  Steeltoe leaned into him and muttered, “You know, sir, you’ve just made a slave for life. That man will do whatever you hint that you want, no questions, no reservations. You just gave him a full share of new tech, and you gave him his pick, pending approval. It’s almost evil, the way you work, sir. I have never been so inspired.” He laughed as he ended his words.

  Rieven smiled. Werner had earned it. Ships that came together and came apart, swarm tactics, and new military doctrine were beginning to fill his mind; when combined with his conversation with the dream-octopus, he realised the direction the navy would go. They were not going to become a new navy. They were going to become a specialised branch of the Imperial Military. None would match them. None. This was going to be a force unlike anything they had seen. Shiney and new; and he had the helm of it. He smiled again. Time to become dragons, he thought, and claim our destiny.