The expectations and culture of the galaxy have both changed dramatically over the centuries, yet not as much as some would believe. The presence of the thirteen heroes – even if they are rarely seen in public in modern times – serves as both a stabilizing force and as a cultural cornerstone. Only on the fringes of society do you see the wide variety of beliefs that people create when left alone.

  – Barbarians at the Gate, (14th Edition)

  Thistlerock Station was not at all like the last asteroid port Apex had seen. Crimson Rock had been a high-iron, lumpy potato-shaped rock with docks jutting out from one side, and the habitats half-buried into the larger part of the rocky surface, where the mines could extract the iron easily.

  This one did not have any mines to consider, but the purpose was very different. It was more round, and many of the habitats were located deep inside the asteroid, which Apex had been told was now hollow. This seemed a little dangerous to him, as the dragon could tell that this ‘asteroid’ was basically chunky gravel held together by gravity, not a mostly-solid rock like Crimson Rock. Perhaps the artificial gravity magic helped hold it together.

  It had plenty of docks – dozens, in fact. The long trusses for the docks poked out at all angles, giving the station its name: a rock with spiny bits that looked like a thistle. From a distance, it was a spiny blossom with a bright ‘base’ at one part, but apparently the denizens considered the brighter portion to be the ‘top’ of the station, when a direction was needed at all. The huge radiator fans interspersed between the docks didn’t help the image, either.

  Apex docked himself nearer to the top of the station, as directed. He was glad for that, as it gave him a chance to see the bowl-like portion of the station up close, in the moments before he lined up with the docks. The vast open space was on the quarter of the asteroid not covered in struts, space docks, and radiators, and instead sported several massive furnaces. As he approached, the dragon could see the skeleton of a smaller ship near one of the open, glowing orange furnaces. A small crew in pressure suits scurried over the remains of the ship, disassembling it as he watched.

  He’d initially had hopes that this place would do more thorough refits, given their much more developed facilities. Those hopes were dashed when Sallus negotiated only a few days stay. That would be enough for repairs, but the full refit of armor and other systems that Apex wanted would be impossible in that time frame. Then again, he wasn’t sure how much they could get from the salvage he’d gotten from the last freighter they’d hit. His fuel tanks were near full, but many of the components in the cargo bay were apparently low-grade civilian tech. They wouldn’t be worth much.

  That did not mean Apex had no plans at all, though. He’d put in some requests and thoroughly checked over his systems while Sallus and some of the cultists arranged for repairs. He double-checked that Naven was in his cabin – preparing to go out for the first time since his capture – and then over the rest of the crew. He paused when he spotted Pan throwing up in the medical bay, and considered.

  The gobling was not going to last more than a few months at this rate, and Apex was sure that in a few weeks, the pain would be getting worse. He was curious to see what the creature would do, but that was still some time away. Until then, it had picked up some kind of attachment to him, he thought. Perhaps he could ask the creature a small favor.

  This had not worked out as planned.

  Apex rumbled, “The sight is interesting, at least.” The rings of walkways around the hollow core of the station gave quite the view, and the way it had arranged the artificial gravity meant that the various bridges crossing the core all had people walking on them at different angles. Even Apex had to admit it looked exotic, and he briefly wondered what it would have been like to live through the eons that had led to such leaps of architecture.

  “Interesting? It’s amazing!” Pan breathed aloud. The young halfblood was definitely feeling better than before, perhaps by sheer excitement. He certainly didn’t waste his time rushing along the walkway, stopping every dozen or so meters to look out from another angle. “Have you ever seen- oh. Of course you have. You’re a dragon. Well, I never got to see anything like this where I grew up.”

  Apex had not considered this. Pan had insisted on doing a little sightseeing before accepting the favor, and the dragon had been so startled and impressed that the gobling had attempted to bargain that he’d allowed a few concessions. In the long run, it wouldn’t matter, and he felt a small amount of pleasure in seeing the hybrid grow even a hint of a spine. Perhaps he’d gone too easy on the galley cook by offering free advice, but it was better than listening to him sighing all the time.

  He’d considered asking Sallus or Naven to carry his new toy, but both of them had important work to do that wouldn’t bring them anywhere near the foundries. He also did not bother to tell Sallus why he’d made the request, and Pan trusted him enough to follow instructions even without the hybrid knowing what he was building. For now, that gave him a secret that Sallus and Naven didn’t know about.

  The elf had been curious why he’d requested a new, smaller camera, but had not pushed too hard when Apex replied that he was experimenting with them and would need it later. Every camera on the ship was wired into the mana circuits, providing both power and a means of transmission to the various viewscreens or Apex’s mind. This was different from the audio connection that required no wires to function.

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  Apex had wondered about this, but a few casual questions had led him to conclude that vision could be transferred over the air, but it was impractical in many cases for a number of reasons. The technology could not replicate a scrying spell of that complexity without some means to adjust constantly. Apex did not understand why simply putting the information in the same transmission as the ‘radio’ didn’t work, but that was fine. He’d solved it his own way.

  After Pan had hooked up a small quintessence battery to the camera, Apex had guided the gobling to mount it on one shoulder and hide it under his jacket. The dragon used his own magic to maintain the connection, a small but constant distraction that was worth it to finally see what the Lesser Folk were doing, without risking the complexity of a full scrying spell on his tired circuits.

  All this had risen to being carried along on the gobling’s shoulder, with an earpiece to talk to the strange hybrid. On this, the third day at the station, the crew had been given the day off while the rest of the preparations were being made. Apex had his tail repaired, his tanks full, and several minor repairs and maintenance done. His main body was still, and had been the entire time while he worked on his new device to let him explore elsewhere.

  Perhaps Pan had not been the best host for this, though.

  “Did dragons have cities like this, Apex?”

  The question broke through the dragon’s musings, bringing him back to awareness of what he was seeing. Pan had climbed up several levels, taking in the sights at each one, but did appear to be heading toward the foundry level above. Apex marveled at the gobling’s movements now. Not because of his agility or speed, but because he knew this would be very rough on a body as ill as Pan’s.

  He sighed mentally at the lack of education, but reminded himself that this was the dregs of the dregs of the Lesser Folk. He should feel lucky that Pan seemed pretty intelligent despite his patchwork education. It was unbecoming of a dragon to feel impatience with those who cannot help their incompetence.

  “Dragons were solitary creatures by nature,” Apex replied. “Aside from occasional mated pairs – which I had moved beyond – they lived alone in whatever shelter was large enough to be comfortable.”

  Pan opened another hatch above, and flinched for some reason. The gobling climbed upward, entering an enclosed ring. Thick windows looked out over the foundry, providing an observation area to watch as ships were disassembled. The locals here looked more rough than the ones down below, but didn’t bother a tiny goblin-elf climbing up to watch the ships get disassembled.

  The gobling lowered his voice so that the passing workers in this quieter area couldn’t hear. “So you hadn’t when you were younger? Did you have kids?”

  What a strange line of questioning. Apex wasn’t sure what was going on with Pan’s desire to discuss such banalities. He’d made it quite clear that they were not friends. “At some points, yes. No, I do not know what happened to them. Dragons rarely spoke to their progeny after childhood.”

  Thankfully, Pan abandoned this line of questioning in favor of asking if this was a good viewpoint. Apex didn’t think anything of the sudden drop of the topic, and instead focused on watching the two starships outside being taken apart and slagged. He’d torn apart a few, of course, but this let him see how things were supposed to be disassembled, and he spent well over an hour asking the now silent Pan to reposition so he could catch another angle.

  “Hey, are you okay? You look a little tired.”

  Apex lacked all the senses he had in his natural form while he was just a camera on a shoulder, so at first he could not hear the gruff voice very well. He had to wait until Pan turned around to see the broad-shouldered orc worker, wearing a ragged set of overalls with a few dark stains on them. The orc’s bald head gleamed in the orange-lit glow of the observation deck, and Apex wondered if Pan was all right now. The gobling had been staring for a few seconds now.

  “I’m not feeling well,” Pan answered, finally. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get back to my ship.” He took a few steps, then Apex saw his view spin as the gobling tumbled toward the floor.

  The orc grunted. “Got ya.” Apex stayed quiet, unsure what just happened. Pan shouldn’t have collapsed… the illness he’d assessed would bring great pain before muscle control and strength started to deteriorate. Perhaps he’d pushed the sickly hybrid too hard in the mundane exhaustion sense? He could forget, sometimes, that the Lesser Folk needed sleep much more often. Mentally, Apex reviewed the last hour, to see if he’d missed the signs.

  “I’ll take you to your ship,” the orc offered. “Which one is it? You in the big dragon one? Always wondered what something like that looked like inside.”

  “Mmmn.” Pan’s voice was a mumble, and even Apex couldn’t make it out. The large orc just smiled, keeping his mouth shut so the tusks were the only teeth visible. The dragon wasn’t used to seeing civilized orcs, but he’d seen a few since coming to this time. It was still surprising how helpful the worker was.

  The bald, green-skinned man snorted. “Guess I’ll take that as a yes. Maybe I can get a berth on it, you think you can put a good word in for me? Been stuck on this rock for months now.”

  Now it made sense. Apex knew that random acts of kindness did occur, but a self-interested act was one he could understand much more. He doubted the burly orc would be welcome if he didn’t align with the cult, but Sallus had pulled on other crew members – like Pan – who weren’t affiliated with the cult. If this one could handle a mana cannon better than the existing gunners, Apex certainly wouldn’t mind his presence.

  “Hmm.” Pan’s voice was clearer now. “You need a ship off? How long you been stuck here?”

  The lighting darkened as the orc carried Pan through a corridor, and even the muffled external audio pickups could let Apex hear the faint echo of the place’s emptiness.

  “About four, maybe five months now.” The orc snorted again. “I might owe a little money to one of the casinos. I uh, hope that won’t be a problem? Think you can help me out?”

  Apex saw Pan’s hand move in a flash, much faster than he’d expected. The orc stumbled as Pan drew his hand back, leaving the handle of the short knife he carried for self-defense buried in the orc’s head, thrust up under the jaw and through the unprotected flesh. Blood sprayed out and down as the heavy man began to topple forward, and the camera’s view spun again as Pan landed neatly – and far more energetically than expected – on both feet, upright and without so much as a sway.

  “No.”