"A temporary stable orbit has been established, please wait for further instruction." Morganite's voice told, blaring out from every room and hall of the ship.

Routine and simple as announcements were, this time, it now had the effect of rousing near-all aboard with renewed purpose by its single, implicit promise.

A week and a half of travel was to come to an end, and to those who had nothing to lose, their harrowing escape was at last done. The charring energy fields of Homeworld's frigid prison cells were long behind them, and there was a quietly held belief that, wherever or whatever awaited them when they emerged on the other side, a warmer welcome would be there for them.

In the end, most held the idea that there was little chance anything could be worse than being branded and marked as a stain - to be cleaned from the galactic capital.

There was nothing left for them there, and for many of the former prisoners, this once in an eternity chance to be broken free from an all but certain death gave most a profound reason to have a spring in their step, or at least a reserved smile on their face. This was to be a new lease on life, through an opportunity not even the most naïve or forlornly hopeful could have ever dreamt of having.

Indeed, little under a score-and-a-half days ago plenty of them had sat silent, heads hung low with heavy lidded stares directed at a cold metal floor, counting the seconds ticking by until their lives' ends.

Now however...

Almost everyone was part of a crowd on the way to the exit rooms, the hum of hushed, yet vibrant discussions following the chorus of treading feet.

Almost everyone.

As she heard the announcement echo, Rhodonite was among the few that felt grief instead of relief wallowing up from deep beneath.

In weeks gone by, there may have been a phantom of temptation taunting her, telling her to tear her former master away from the controls. To take the ship for her own, and turn it around.

Despite that, and the simmering anger beneath the sorrow, she fought against those malignant desires and held back. If not for Morganite's safety, then for the sake of the rest of the people aboard. Those very same people that walked by the hallway linking to the ship's bridge, on their way to a new life, free of any burden from the past.

As she had time to collect herself, to see past the blinding filters of rage and woe, she found herself understanding the reasons Morganite had to scream into her face while brandishing a weapon back on Homeworld. Still, this was done with great distaste, even if a fraction of that bitterness, coming from agreeing with the one who threw her away was diluted by the fact that Bolt had come to the same, independent conclusion too.

After all, when turning back would only result in being shot down, or recapture and execution, then it was hard to deny which was the obvious choice.

Yet, true as it may have been, it did little to soften the blow. Being forced between two hard choices never did, for there was always a toll taken, even after walking the less painful path.

"Please do not crowd the exit points. Though we have arrived, the ship will still remain in orbit for some time while I make sure of certain matters."

Listening to their voice blare out again in cold, crisp clarity from the ship's public address system, Rhodonite looked up from her protracted self-reflection and turned her attention towards the control panel at the front, where Morganite sat.

Spectral blue holograms hung around them, and for one of the few times since the beginning of the journey, their arms were actually dipped into the mental linkage part of the command console. This time, for a longer than a few seconds to boot.

'She's doing actual work then,' Not merely sitting in silence, hiding behind the captain's chair.

Often, they would only communicate to anyone by making a brief mind link to the ship and gaining access to the PA system. Even then, all they ever said were a few lines, and it did not take long before they were found retreating into solitude again.

It was rare they would contact anyone in direct terms, but then again, it was exactly what Rhodonite expected of them. Of what she expected of any of the insufferably aloof nobility.

But on this occasion, without a hint of reservation, she agreed with Morganite's course of action… and likely for the same reasons as her former owner.

'You've not been the most popular person here, have you..?' She thought, derisive, keeping a level glare bearing down on the tall headrest of the floating chair that hid the entirety of Morganite's person.

For half a month, though she had been paying intermittent attention at best, Rhodonite had heard more than enough to know that a low opinion of Morganite was held by more people than just her. Pery, for one. Then, if the audio from angry, gravelly voices that came calling every few hours or so in the first week of the journey were anything to go by, then a number of the broken soldiers did not hold Morganite in the highest esteem either.

Rhodonite clenched all four of her fists, then, clearing her mind with three sets of deep inhales and exhales, she let go.

While her sharp expression remained entrenched, she gave an inch of ground to the fact that, so far, that was likely as many people aboard who had genuine hate for Morganite. The rest though, who did not have such a feud or so personal a connection with them, may have heralded them as the figure central to their freedom. They were, after all, the de-facto captain of the ship, and begrudging as it was to admit, their knowledge was also part of what led both to the vehicle being found in the first place, and for it to be piloted - competently - to what probably was a safe destination.

And, even if the place was one only known to them, having someone with a plan was leagues better than wildly wandering across a hostile galaxy.

'But that doesn't make up for everything they've done.' Both sides of her agreed, firm.

One act of good never washed away the bad, and with aristocrats, it was never a guarantee that any good they did was ever selfless. Indeed, it was true that Morganite too had a vested interest in speeding away from Homeworld as fast as possible.

Continuing to look, she watched as the data on the luminescent blue screens were wiped away blank, as though Morganite wished for none to know what was happening behind it. So there they sat, body laying still, and mind completely engulfed in what it was they were working on - completely oblivious to the vitriol held by the person just behind her.

Now that Rhodonite was forced to be with the very person who embodied the cause of every anguish of her past, it was as though the fog around her oldest memories had lifted, only to reveal that crags and sharp rock were all that was behind it. Every pain from her old lives that she believed was long gone, or irrelevant, for millennia had been inflamed by magnitudes by their presence.

'I wonder what you did to finally get you locked up. To get what you deserved for what you did to us… and anyone else.

She knew that Pearl and Ruby were not the first of their retinue, and that begged a disturbing number of questions, chief among them being, 'How many came before us?' And, its haunting partner, '...how many were thrown away, before us?'

Rhodonite's memory of that part of her component's lives was usually a deep haze. But if what she could glean from the gap punched through the mist served her right, then Pearl and Ruby could not have come into Morganite's service for more than a century or so before being caught fusing, and then being incarcerated for it.

'Thousands of years…' That was how long Morganite should have been around at the very least, and that only made the potential amount of people whose ends they were responsible for far more sickening.

During her almost catatonic state throughout the journey, where she had nothing to do but sit and wait, this was what had been tormenting her. Nevermind having to also contend with her rash actions and words on the day of the escape, and the occasional flashing images of the desperate, sometimes crying, faces of those she left behind.

Her stalwart stare gave way, a hard blink following as she tried to push down the tears she did not realise she had been weeping.

In a sudden turn however, as she opened her eyes again, Rhodonite was given a strange source of reprieve, distracting her and taking her focus away from the roiling within. One of the blank floating screens had lit up with an image, and when it did, it gave her a glimpse of exactly what had been happening behind what were otherwise closed doors - a glimpse into exactly what matters Morganite had been attending to this whole time.

Difficult as it was for Rhodonite to see the image in any clear way from her place in the room, as the screen was steeply angled away from her direction, she spotted an intimidating, cloaked individual appear. And while their face was hidden by a mask of shadows casted by their apparel, the sharp probing tone of their voice was clear as day when they spoke in uncertain terms with Morganite.

"...Like I said before, you're a 'crat flying in on a stars-damned warship. Doesn't matter if you don't have the same colour palette as your ride, doesn't matter that you knew where in the vast void of space this place was, or that your ship came alone, none of that's enough of a guarantee. How do I know you're who you say you are, and that you - oh, say - aren't gonna tell a fleet where this place is now that you've scouted it, so they can turn everyone here to dust?"

Morganite's private conversation they had been having with the person on the other side was forced away from the realm of mental links, and Rhodonite held some satisfaction in that it sounded as though nothing had not been pleasant or easy for them.

'Good.'

Morganite appeared to take a tad bit of offence to their words, but they resumed without incident, "...I can see how the manner of our arrival would be cause for great concern, but how could you be so quick to dismiss so much of what I have already sent? What of the live security footage I am streaming to you? Surely that-"

"-Could have been faked, staged, or pre-recorded." The cloaked figure held up a gloved fist, raising a finger for each allegation made until there were three held high, clear for Morganite to see, "And even if it isn't, there sure are plenty of quartzes in some of those feeds. So if it is live, like you've said, then that's doubly concerning." They kept that hand up for a time, interrupting them, and letting the thinly veiled accusations run their course unimpeded.

Paranoid as their words may have been, if rightfully so from someone in their position, Rhodonite noted how stern and questioning they seemed to be about the entire affair; addressing Morganite as if they were trying to project power despite being the one who, by their own implicit admission, was in no way the one standing atop a strong position to be bargaining from.

Yet, their steely calm appeared to have the desired effect, as after she heard a quiet, drawn out sigh, Morganite backed down, "Your apprehension is… understandable, but I believe there's still a way for all of this to be confirmed to you."

"Oh..?" The figure said, intrigued, yet still sounding as if they were challenging Morganite to find irrefutable proof.

It was then that the chair spun around, moving at what could only be a deliberate leaden pace until it stopped.

And there, Rhodonite found herself again staring down face-to-face with her former master.

Forgetting for a moment about all other things, her focus tunneled in on Morganite. Their gazes locked, eyes showing an inside hollowed out long ago meeting those which revealed once flickering embers that were now fanned into smouldering. Embers that threatened to break out into blaze at any provocation. At any lie, at any threat, at any justification at all to act as dry tinder.

But, they seemed to be aware of that too, and as much as she wanted to walk up there to strike her old master, the way Morganite then spoke kept her at a frustrating mental arms length away.

"Rhodonite." They began, and for once, their usual half-dead, professional tone was replaced with something else, something the Fusion did not like in the slightest, "...I have no right to ask you to do anything for me, but I hope for you to at least consider this - for the good of everyone else aboard."

Rhodonite stayed silent, trying her damndest at resisting the call, telling herself that they were full of nothing but lies, that their pleading words were nothing but a masquerade to hide their actual, corrupt intentions.

However, the longer she stared Morganite down, even after they had finished speaking, the more she could begin to glean a desperation a single layer below the surface, imploring her to listen. A desperation that spoke of how close they had come to failing, and in spite of that, of how close they were now to finally succeeding. They were tired, ready to finish this journey, once and for all, but they now needed to be carried to the end.

And, Rhodonite knew, Morganite's meaning was that she was the only one here who could.

On one hand, it was the kind of minute yet mighty emotion that many would be hard pressed to fake. Yet, on the other, she knew too that the nobility would have far more practice in making that seem convincing above anyone else. Especially to the level that it would make another feel a genuine level of compulsion to act on their suggestions or demands.

Despite her doubts and deep-seated hatred of Morganite, and certainly not unfounded distrust of the one that once owned her, after careful consideration, Rhodonite relented and agreed. Somewhat.

"Fine…" She ground her teeth at that, for every fibre of her being was telling her this was a trap, that she was being manipulated through subtle means, "What's it you want from me, and why?" So, she did what little she could against Morganite's refined skills of intrigue.

Never breaking eye contact, she watched them let out a wispy sigh, and she caught a wave of weariness flowing over them for an instant, weighing their expression down to the ground.

But, after a second spent composing themselves, they faced her directly again, the desperation in their eyes having deepened a touch. To Rhodonite, it seemed as though they thought it would instill a greater pang of pity in her; to have her be tripped into following along without questioning their will so much.

It did not.

A further few seconds came and went, but despite a dour glint in their eyes suggesting they knew their effort failed, Morganite began again heedless, "I need you to come up here beside me, even if for only a moment because… because they need proof that I am no ordinary aristocrat, merely coming here to scout and confirm or deny whether a fleet to exterminate them should be sent." They left the end of that statement hanging in the air, only continuing a few seconds later, as though they did it to let the deafening silence amplify the point far enough, "And I will be entirely honest with you, a perma-fusion having been on the bridge with me this whole time should be proof enough to show we really are… escapees."

'Honest..?' The very word coming from their mouth made Rhodonite want to sneer, to walk away, to spite them, as though she were a final piece refusing to fall into place in a game that Morganite would win if she did.

And that was not the lone reason. 'You really don't think I would know when you're trying to use me again?'

Unwilling to submit herself to their whims again, Rhodonite rose from her seat on the far end of the table and stood tall, while simultaneously refusing to take a single step.

And unsatisfied with their answer, Rhodonite questioned again. "Alright, explain to me then - exactly - why do you need to do that?"

Somehow giving up any pretenses, Morganite spoke in transparent, direct terms. "Because they know a… place in this planet where we, as escapees, can hide. Where we can live. But to be trusted with that knowledge, we have to prove ourselves first."

Breathing in, but with no words coming out of her mouth, Rhodonite found herself conflicted as this was revealed to her.

Beneath her steadfast exterior, this conflict went on, for even when standing strong, it could not deflect what had already pierced into her mind. While she may have not been moved by Morganite's acting, their words were by no means as light as the wind might be. The longer the conflict raged, the more it riled her, causing her to hold a deep glower. Yet, afeared as she was to go along with Morganite for a myriad of fair reasons, she knew that at least some of their words had a touch of truth.

Searching for outside reinforcement, she looked at the bent image of the cloaked figure projecting from a screen by Morganite's right side - all the while considering the demands made by the cloaked figure.

A piece of her started immediately began blaring on how the two may have been conspiring, but Rhonite silence it swift enough. Working with someone who hated her, stabbing prison guards, stealing a ship, using said ship to demolish prison infrastructure, and so, so much more. It was all too unnecessarily complex, and in all likelihood would have lost Morganite more favours than they would have won.

And so, Rhodonite saw that she would have to take the figure as an entity independent of them, and anyone else on the ship for that matter. Through this, it meant that everything Morganite requested of her was merely out of wishing to follow the figure's demands, and nothing else.

Demands, which if fulfilled, would grant not only them, but everyone on board safe harbour.

Then, she found herself in full agreement with them on what had to be done; that their status as genuine fugitives had to be proven…

'And who wouldn't be suspicious of a… 'crat.' She thought, also agreeing with one of the main sources of the figure's distrust, if still hoping to smooth it out for the sake of the rest.

Taking in everything she had heard and carefully considered, Rhodonite closed her eyes again, searching until found it in herself to inch forwards a lone step.

However, after the front touched down, her one foot remained there, the heel staying afloat slightly above the ground in stubborn incompliance. It was as if the limb was embodying the part of her that continued to defy following what it saw as purely Morganite's wishes, no matter how vital her cooperation would be, or how irrational the behaviour would become.

She took a deep breath, standing still in that pose with eyes still closed. But, within moments, the whole foot landed flat on the floor, and not so soon after, she took a second step.

'I'm not doing this not for her…'

Then another.

'I'm not doing this for her, this is for…'

And another.

'I'm not doing this for her, this is for everyone else.'

And another.

Chanting the phrase over and over within her conscience, Rhodonite made jarring, tilted footfalls, eyes closed the entire time as her will and focus was directed inwards, for each step taken was extracting its own, not insubstantial, toll. Walking in and of it itself presented no great burden or pain, but the cost to her hard-won dignity and independence did.

All of this was because once more - if even indirectly - falling in-line with Morganite after having been used like this by them for their own ends did not sit well with Rhodonite. So she tried consoling herself on the fact that the noble would not be the only one gaining something out of this. Through this one act, every single person aboard and herself would be granted safe passage.

Including him.

'I'll follow you just this one time - then never again.'

Though even at her slow pace it took only a little under a minute to make it to the front, to Rhodonite, it felt as if an eternity had passed by the time she opened her eyes once more. Now standing to the left of Morganite, here, she would be directly visible to the cloaked figure, and vice versa.

After arriving, she looked down at them as they turned back around to the console and sent a short, silent glare, letting them know she was not pleased with this at all. Only then did she feel ready to follow through with their request, and then did so by raising her head to meet the figure.

In the first few seconds, a mutual silence developed between them, for both were strangers to each other, and had nothing but first impressions to go off of.

Though it seemed their impression of her was at the very least positive. She guessed it was that of keen interest, for the figure tilted their head forwards ever so slightly, their attention rapt as they were witness to a fusion standing side by side to an aristocrat of the same court.

Then, eager to break the ice and to at last confirm the truth, they asked her a simple question, "And you are..?"

Rhodonite had an immediate answer in mind. "No one's." She said with resolve.

Then, making an effort to switch over to a more neutral, anticipating expression afterwards, she looked at the screen once more. Face-to-face with the person on the other side, Rhodonite stood, awaiting their response.

The cloaked figure visibly continued tensing, perhaps more so than before, as their head moved up and was held high in a confrontational way, the concealed glare under their darkened visage growing somehow deeper and sharper. For an instant, it seemed as if they were about to switch off their side of the communications and walk away, either to begin readying to flee for further parts unknown, or to somehow confront them in combat the instant they landed.

But, it took only an equally short moment for the nigh-entirety of it to collapse. In a noticeable manner, their shoulders sagged, relaxing, as their posture became more that of an acquaintance instead of the interrogator. They even let out what Rhodonite could have sworn was a humorous snort.

Though, even if they were now a shade more amicable, part of their way of speaking sounded as though they were still on guard, at least at some level. "Ha! Now that's good, great even. I like your attitude." Shaking their head, they brought out a seperate screen that had been by their side, one that had been hidden beyond view of the main screen they had been talking through.

Their fingers danced across the projection - likely typing something upon it. Upon finishing off whatever message they were making, with a somewhat dramatised swipe, they pressed on the send button. Finishing with that, they switched off the holoscreen and faced the two again, giving a deep, apologetic bow of their head before continuing.

'You're laying it on a bit thick.' Rhodonite heard herself wanting to say as they bowed and scraped, but caught it in time to keep it locked within.

Ultimately, though some of their mannerisms did irk her by instinct - because of how it had some resemblance to the empty or veiled gestures of the aristocracy - their way of speaking did do something to allay those fears. Since, to her, their vernacular sounded as if it was made up of half that of the loose, and perhaps occasionally unruly, language of the lower sort. So there was to be some trust found there at least.

And besides, she recognised it was rather rude to think such things of the one who was offering safe refuge.

"Ahhh, anyways, alright, I apologise for doubting you lot then. But I think you'll understand you can never be too careful with the authorities - if you are who you say you are," They added in jest - as, with a fusion standing so openly in the command centre, the chances of those on the ship being false convicts were low - but the hidden edge in their tone remained all the same, "Land at these coordinates, I'll send someone to direct you all on where to go after you arrive on the surface."

Morganite replied in a curt manner with not much more than a firm, neutral, "Thank you."

Yet, as the deal was concluded, Rhodonite could swear that, when they gave the figure an equally curt nod, the smallest smile ebbed onto Morganite's features. Though she could not be entirely sure, for it flowed away mere moments after.

"No, thank you." As if absorbing the pair's confusion for a few seconds, the figures stood silent before giving vague clarification, "I'll tell you, it gives a weathered old rock like me a bit of hope every time someone like you comes along. That, well, maybe not every one of you upper crusts are so bad…" Dropping off, they looked down at the ground for a second before finishing with, "Gah, anyways, I'll be waiting to meet you!" As their farewell.

Passive-aggression within their final remarks aside, as the screen on displaying them faded to blank blue, transparent blue once more, their words gave some comfort to both of them. A tenuous peace had formed, even with no one else for their attention to be directed towards.

Though that did mean the two were soon left staring at eachother without a word exchanged between them, for the peace was still tenuous, and both had far deep of a rift between them for any amicable conversation.

Then, as if wishing to end the awkwardness in as indirect a way as possible, Morganite, their hands clasped together, but anything else about their expression impossible to read, asked her a strange question. "Is there anything you wish to say or tell me?"

Innocuous, even friendly in some contexts, it may be on the surface, but for them to ask it made her feel uneasy.

From one angle, their thin, pursed lips showed hints of barely veiled irritation at her extended presence near the command console, as though Morganite were giving her a subtle hint that she had served her purpose, and that they were shooing her away, for she needed not be there with them any longer unless something more needed to be said. Yet from another, the glint in their eyes somehow made them seem tentative, or almost nervous; perhaps even guilty or meek in some way, and wished to know how she was for the sake of it, and nothing more.

Unsure of which it was, and already alerted by their vague expression, Rhodonite felt the urge to decline. So with a brief, suspect look, she gave a firm response of, "No."

The tense silence persisted for a further few moments, but Morganite seemed to understand she was in no mood. So after giving her a terse nod, they dipped their arms into the depths of the mental link console once more.

In a flash, the ship roared back to life, the fore tipping downwards as the engines ignited into a soft hum, causing it to begin making its final advance towards the surface of the world they had been orbiting above. But with the inertial dampeners and artificial gravity, even while the titanic vessel heaved and shifted, Rhodonite felt nothing.

Nothing physically.

Within, however, it was the utter opposite. As the ship moved, so did what was visible from the view up front, through the one-sided window. And with nothing else to absorb her attention, when it did, what it exposed struck Rhodonite at her very core as she realised exactly what the sight before her meant.

"What the… where..." She breathed, struggling to find the words to express her frozen shock, "where are we?"

In truth, knowing that Morganite was likely immersed in the circuits of the ship, she had said much of that to herself in grasping disbelief, wishing that the reality it presented were not so.

But it was of little use. Now that she was here, at the very front and no longer brooding at the back, she could see everything, and nothing at once.

Cold, dark emptiness ruled the view, for it was the all but true void of intergalactic space, where even the radiant light of the stars themselves were crushed until they showed as naught more than grains dust. The very stellar bodies her kind revered as the most perfect and brilliant bearers of life essence bearing worlds, and swore by as though they were deities, held no sway here.

Their light wielded no power here, where they were but fine white specks, sprinkled austerely upon a dark canvas with no end.

Then, there stuck out two objects, together covering much of the view, yet barely visible from the infinite night engulfing the surface. It took all of the meagre light from the distant, far-off stars in the backdrop reflecting off of their surface for them to be seen at all. As she squinted her eyes, Rhodonite could make out a number of details. The curving slopes of its northern and southern poles rising out from the shadows, revealing a glittering white surface pockmarked with ancient impact craters and carved up by the erratically placed bands of thin, brilliant blue.

Rising from the northwestern horizon to join it was another lesser, but no less great silhouette, barely visible as thin beams from the distant ambience curved around a small fraction of its rocky circumference.

A rogue planet, covered in the ice of a frozen atmosphere, with rivers of liquid oxygen and nitrogen flowing sluggishly throughout the colder parts around the world's poles. And orbiting it, a rogue moon to accompany the world in its exile.

Through factors they had no control over, it and its moon had been ejected from the warmth of its home solar system, and now was forced to wander the endless void between the galaxies.

'...like us.' The thought left a biting breeze as it wafted her conscience, causing her to almost shudder at the icy, hollow sensation it left within the very pit of her form in its wake.

It had crossed her mind before, of how lonely it would be, as she sat in a depthless torpor during the journey. But while she had done much to suppress it then, now, there was no denying it, not when unshakeable evidence drifted right in front of her.

'Goodbye…'

Her throat seized up with regret at that, and she at first fought against it, trying her damndest in dispelling the spontaneous despair. But, despite how much she wished she had not made the thought, Rhodonite could do nothing as she, if still subconsciously, began accepting the hand that fate dealt to her.

They had travelled for a week and a half straight, all without dropping out of FTL speeds once.

The sheer distances involved had a certain piercing numbness coursing through her. Thousands, hundreds of thousands of light years it must have been at the very least.

Looking to her feet and closing her eyes, Rhodonite made a long, shuddering breath, loosening the iron grip around her throat.

"Goodbye." Letting out a final, forlorn whisper out into space, she gathered the will to tear her eyes away from the so enchanting, yet so sickening view.

Turning around, she began to walk out of the room, for there was now beyond no point in remaining. Staying would only mean subjecting herself to further despair. And so, intent on joining the crowds making for the exit points, she tried raising her posture with as much dignity as she could muster in the face of this adversity.

For, even as the cheerless understanding set in that almost everyone she knew and cared for were in all likelihood destined to forever be beyond her reach, there remained one person she knew and trusted that was not. And if there was anywhere she could find him in the manifold rooms and corridors, it was to be there. In the end, if he was the only person here she knew and gave more than a damn for, then, hopefully, the thin crack she had left between them had to be repaired, no matter how small it was in the present.

Though Rhodonite had much faith and confidence in his forgiving nature, the idea of taking that for granted left a bitter taste in her mouth, and so she resolved to make a proactive apology either way.

'I owe him that much'

Organic he may have been, but after they had solved his lack of pre-programming by doing their best to teach him, he proved just as capable of displays of intelligence and emotion as any gem. Of loving, of laughing, of lamenting…

...Which was what he was likely doing this very moment, and had been for the past half a month.

And despite how much his sagacity and curiousity had let him learn of the world, she knew it remained a fact that he was barely several months old. To be so young, and yet left alone with the same burden of solitude, and with no one familiar to talk to for such a significant fraction of his life…

Rhodonite bit back a curse, even if there was no audience but herself. She by now had accepted it had been her lapse in judgement that day, a lapse that made her forget just long enough that, for all his life, he had looked up to her as a trusted, caring guardian to shout something she perhaps did not mean. She had accepted this was why he almost appeared apprehensive treading near her the few times he reappeared around the ship's bridge, and why he had instead taken to mostly wandering around, away.

Then, fuelled by the renewed purpose filling her stride, Rhodonite set a firm expression before disappearing into the ship's halls, resolute in making amends.

'We need eachother, now more than ever.'

After a half hour of cautiously ferrying the vehicle to the surface, Morganite felt herself shake as the entire thing rumbled when it battered fingers first into a small rock formation she was trying to avoid. Having not much experience with this kind of vessel, despite having cut off the engines entirely at once, and as early as her instincts would allow, she was not counting on just how much sheer momentum such a substantial object would have.

Aside from this mistake, and of how she understood that some might say that could maybe have taken a somewhat faster pace, the arrival was otherwise smooth. The ship was now hovering a quarter-score meters above the ground, little more than a rebuffable scratch to mark her one error out. But for one who had never independently captained anything more than her own personal roaming eye, nevermind solo-flying an entire warship while never being manufactured to do so, she felt as though she did a passable job of stationing it.

Though, even with some previous experience in piloting smaller vessels, the realm of the mental link was also one she could never quite get used to, even after so many millennia of life. Especially not now, when there were far more factors to keep track of, some of them entirely new to her.

There was always something strange for one's body to be lost in the luminous aether, and for only one's consciousness to remain, hovering at the very centre of it all as ethereal tendrils - glowing brighter than the surrounding domain to be noticeable - connecting from every conceivable angle, feeding her a flood of information from across the ship every second. Diagnostics, speed, yaw, pitch, outside conditions, along with so much more were all instantly at her view and command.

Reflexes too, were something she had in this state, though the manner it worked was far different without a physical body to react to stimuli. A common example was when, if someone tried to open a door which she had locked, an alert was sent with haste her way. In response, she would often switch to actively watching the feeds covering that area, just in case it was no accident, and someone was actually trying to enter where they should not.

Though it was not a one-sided interaction, since with a push of her mind and will in any of those directions, Morganite could retrieve much of the information she could ever need, often in higher fidelity, for she was viewing it directly at that point. The ship's senses were her's, in a sense. Crisp, clear camera footage could be streamed into her own circuits, she could read any message sent or hear the voices coming from a call, whether they were coming from within or beyond.

At times, via the public address system, or through the device the person contacting her was using respectively, she could even respond to someone sending said messages, wherever they may be.

But this moment in time, these nigh-mystical powers were being put to rather mundane, and if she was being honest, tedious use.

"I am sorry to announce, but it will be a moment longer before departure can begin. In the meantime, please keep an orderly queue at the exit points." The thought flitted through her mind, and an imperceptible instant after, the PA systems came to life with her voice.

Through the cameras, she could see, in the instant after the message came through, that everyone gave their own collective cue of impatience. Everything from tapping feet, muttering conversations, to slumping shoulders, and simple sighs or groans. Yet, despite the delay's slight dampening of the mood, cautious good cheer resurfaced, showing itself to be intact in most of them once the first few minutes had passed.

Deeming the small bump on morale to be of trivial issue after that showing, Morganite left the issue be, pointing her mind in another direction and making one of the tendrils seem to twang, causing it to show her the coordinates the figure had sent at the forefront of her focus.

Keeping her next thoughts private, Morganite went about skimming and comparing them to where the warship was at. Twice, then thrice did she review, on each occasion finding it satisfactory.

And so she would wait, hovering five meters above the endless snow drifts. At least here at the equator, where a slight difference in strength of tidal forces from the planet's moon meant there was a little more heat, the blizzards were not so intense, letting the sensors she was still unfamiliar with be just that bit more clear from some interference. The ground here too was more solid because of it. There was to be no worry of accidentally landing on lakes of liquid oxygen or nitrogen, as the small rise in tidal heating at the equator meant they stayed gaseous. Meanwhile, the other gasses of the atmosphere were either too few to care for, or were far less stubborn freezing than those two, and had turned to solid ice or snow many degrees ago.

Nothing else present to keep her occupied, her consciousness did a mental analogue to a relieved slump. Sights and sounds lost some of their lustre, for less of her processing power was being spent interpreting them. Not that she needed to be doing much now. Near-everyone aboard had something to look forward to, something to keep their hopes up, and it left them far more compliant as they had nothing to gain from disobedience or belligerence now, not when they were so close to touching down on the land where their new lives would begin.

Morganite could have taken a breather at last, and yet, it was not to be before it even began.

From a single second's rest to resuming utter focus took a bare moment, and it was not any current duty causing her to snap upright from this slump.

Something else wore away at her, flake by flake for this whole journey, and indeed, for much of her whole life. But now that she was here, the pace rose by magnitudes, as though it were fields of slush melting, and the ensuing liquid was a rushing river that threatened to drown her.

She knew that, by mere virtue of chance and labyrinthine politics conspiring against her, if she survived being caught or implicated for her illicit actions, that she eventually would have to confront the consequences of her grievous failures. Failures that only ever continued to build a deeper and deeper pile.

Even if part of her often chided the rest, telling her to relax, as it believed this day would not be for aeons, most of her had ignored that, instead having all but rehearsed what she would say in regretful penance. Though through her own cynical nature, she understood - perhaps far too willingly and well - that she could never save everyone, that did not save her from feeling any more hollow. Indeed, it solely served to aggravate it, for every time her cynicism took over, a lengthy duel of vastly opposing notions would rage, leaving her further mentally drained by its end.

Half of her boredly lectured that it was a mere inevitability, but the other fought against it, reciting, with whatever passion she had left, the unspoken creeds of the last. The true creeds. The ones she was likely one of last of less than a dozen left upholding, for most of her ilk never knew of them, or ignored them if they did...

'And in the case of one of them… perversed it.' Morganite had the half a mind to sneer at the mere memory of them, but did not. They had been gone for five millennia now at least.

Justice had been served to the breaker, and so there was no point desecrating their memory, she thought.

Indeed, she hoped they would stand for endless eras to come - as a warning for the consequences of when true intentions were twisted, by the naïve and self-righteous both, for one's own misled ideas or ends instead of the greater good.

Her personal opinions on the matter aside, at this point Morganite all but yearned for another to help her with the burden of upholding this forbidden legacy, even if their interpretations of it were not eye-to-eye with hers. For despite her having been as effective as she could be considering the precarious conditions, she knew there remained the fact that, with how controversial and how swiftly censored those creeds had been, she had few who were willing to help in her silent, pacifistic war, and fewer still who actually stood forward.

With such little support, even the yearning side of her had long ago bitterly conceded that, of every victim that was within her small reach to release throughout the years, not all could be allocated the time and resources to do so with any success.

'And eight thousand years is a long, long time…'

Sometimes, and this wracked her the most, the victim in question would be a piece of a greater whole, but she was forced to let go. It was either she gave some a second chance, or tried to give the chance to all, only to end with nothing but shards...

A fine pulse of energy filtered through the base of a few of the nearest tendrils as she did the equivalent of a hard exhale. In that second, she decided on silencing her errant worries by the one way she knew how; diluting them until they were nothing with a flood of work more voluminous than they were, no matter how superficial or repetitive the tasks she chose to flood it with were.

However, if there was any consolation, keeping watch of whenever the person the cloaked figure had sent to be their guide would arrive was of decent import.

Another, stronger, pulse went through as Morganite prepared herself by breathing deep. Then, without a second thought, her mind dove as deep as possible into the exterior sensors, leaving only a trace amount of her processing power to watch over the rest of the ship - and to think of anything else.

Outside however, there were no cameras, likely since the designers had deemed such things were too fragile for the conditions a warship like this were intended to endure. Instead, an array of different sensors - from those detecting motion, to different kinds of radiation and energy, to more niche tools like spectroscopes which could detect the composition of things down to the particle - were embedded beneath the armour plating in various areas of the ship, giving her complete coverage. But the trade-off for this durability was that it left it up to algorithms, or the person in control, to then build up any coherent image of the outside from this jumble of information.

Nevertheless, she did just that while waiting, filling the void with thorough sweeps of the horizon all around the ship for any sign of movement.

So far though, nothing. Nothing but some water, but mostly carbon dioxide, snow and ice stretching out in every direction.

Perhaps they were, on occasion, broken up by short, sharp rock fields, a distant range of mountains, or a lonely, long dormant volcano, but even these features were smothered by the sheer domination of the frozen wasteland.

Ten minutes or so passed before she was finished with this first three-hundred and sixty degree sweep, and for now, the surroundings had yielded little...

She suppressed a hollow sigh-pulse. Satisfied as she was with her thoroughness, there remained bountiful emptiness within.

There being not much else to do, Morganite hung on it no more and drowned herself some more, shoving her complete focus into the sensors. Another ten minutes came and went, and the complete image presented to her by the second time was much as the first. Wasteland.

And so came a third time, and so came the same results. Sharp rocks, far-off mountains, one volcano...

Yet, just as Morganite was about to fall into another hypnotising cycle of repeating the same task over and over again without thought, she perked up as a small blip of change appeared halfway through the fourth attempt. There, coming from the southern horizon, through the blizzard, the sensors she was linked to picked up a slight difference.

Something was sending powdery snow flying to its side as it moved, and that something, if the readings were to be believed, was made of alloys. Alloys that were far too refined and complex to come from any natural process.

'Unmistakably artificial…' She thought, keen, though tempered with wariness. It was a habit at this point, for no aristocrat lived long on enthusiasm alone. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Combing over that general direction again, this time with a spark of life backing up her raw processing power, Morganite became aware of a shape appearing over the horizon, and of how it was speeding towards the ship through the snow drift with all haste. Relatively difficult as it was to decipher information from these sensors, especially with little experience and no auxiliary piloting crew, Morganite was grateful that it worked perfectly well in complete darkness, for the little to no light to be found gracing the world's surface would have left any visual cameras blind.

Quicker this time, for her attention was placed onto a far smaller area, Morganite sent scans and pings out again and again, noticing how swiftly the shape grew from each one, signifying just how fast it almost appeared to slice through the snow. And, as it grew closer still, she became aware of a growing amount of photons being detected by the sensors each time she scanned anew.

'A powerful light of some kind then…' It did make sense for whatever vehicle they were using to have one, for the unceasing night necessitated such, if they did not wish to crash unceremoniously on an unseen obstacle.

For a second, inspired by that, she entertained the idea of powering up the energy cannon embedded within one of the ship's fingers ever so slightly, just to act as a guiding light, but chose not to soon after. It was a weapon first and foremost, and so she understood there was a heavy chance an act like that could be interpreted as aggression.

Even if there was goodwill behind it, there was no point in taking risks now, 'Not when we're so close…'

She could fit a scarce few more rushed scans in, for it took only a little over five minutes for them to cross the entire distance from the horizon to the ship - some eighteen or so miles - at their vehicle's pace. Skidding with practiced ease to a smooth stop, Morganite saw, from the sensor's perspective, how they started to move about in their seat.

Muddled as any movement their hardlight body made was by their vehicle's power source, and the lights coming from a source its front, she could make out how their head raised upwards, as if scrutinising the warship for a time. Then, their head went back down, their hand beginning to tap on another, if smaller, source of energy on their vehicle. From the shape of the densest concentration of energy in that general area, she guessed it to be a holographic dashboard or console of some description.

'A Ruby..?' She also guessed by the signature blocky appearance of hardlight composing that gem type's head and hair.

There was some surprise in there too, or, whatever worn out facsimile she could feel with so little processing power dedicated to anything else. Rubies were not known for being so adept, whereas this one had demonstrated their skills on the snowcraft, from managing to avoid all the rock fields while moving at high speeds in near complete darkness, to the way they went from a rush to a standstill without issue.

'No matter.' Morganite thought, before then going about contacting them first. She would learn firsthand their identity soon enough.

However, abruptly, another dazzling tendril pulsed to life, connecting her to a source from beyond the ship. Deciding in any likelihood that said source was them, with a bit of pressure, she pushed some of her consciousness onto the tendril to receive the call.

And with crystal clear clarity, as if they were standing right beside her, the rider began to speak, "Huh… I take it you're the ones I'm 'spose'd to be escortin'?" They said, and through the somewhat unsophisticated drawl that seemed to follow their voice, Morganite could tell they were a little astounded, and perhaps a tinge frightened.

While she was sure they were at least somewhat briefed on what to expect, seeing the outlandish presence of a warship of all things for themselves did not seem to lose any of its impact.

"Yes, I believe so." This time, she kept those thoughts private only to the rest of those on the ship, instead sending them out to the same tendril in return.

"...'Kay. 'S just not often 'nyone comes in on somethin' more than a transport or mining ship is all..." They replied, sounding a tad unsure of the venture, but less so than before now that communications had been established without incident, and intentions shared openly.

"Probably for the best, since they aren't intended to wage war." She said, maybe a little too quickly and in too machine-like a manner, not quite thinking about the fact that the rider was making attempts at casual conversation.

Immediately after, there was silence, but soon enough a small, awkward chuckle escaped them, "...True 'nuff, but I'd sure hope that's still the case right now with yer lot though." They said in a tentative tone, if still trying to mix in some amount of humour in there.

Pausing, it took Morganite some time to realise how threatening her previous statement sounded, so she at last let some of her processing power free, allowing her to approach the situation with more tact.

"It is, it is. That was a… poor choice of words from me." She admitted, doing her best to sound assuring while playing along with their joke; subtly reinforcing that she had not been in the slightest bit serious with what she said before.

"Ah, no worries." Taking her apology candidly, they switched out on to more pertinent matters, "Anyways, 'nuff of that. Best not to be out topside any more than needs be, 'cuz if a blizzard starts pickin' up there'll be issues... so come on, follow me." They finished, sounding friendly enough in the end, despite her insinuation of the warship's capabilities.

And with that, Morganite watched the one tendril vanish, coinciding with the energy signature about their vehicle's dashboard flickering down a shade. Then, they put their arms back onto what she assumed to be handles, and their feet back on pedals, after which they then turned their vehicle southeastwards and kicked it back into action.

As the rider accelerated to a few hundred miles per hour, Morganite was not far behind, for the mighty engines of the ship roared to life, filling the empty darkness with a spectral blue. While such a hulking object as the warship took time to turn and accelerate, its formidable engines meant that it only was a matter of time before she caught up.

Lowering the already minimal power being used as she approached the rider, the ship inched closer and closer for a time, propelled on by remaining momentum from a higher speed. But soon, it spent that and its speed began levelling out with that of the snowcraft, and the two vehicles were left with a comfortable five-score meters distance between them.

Leaving the autopilot with simple instructions on how to manage the ship's movements, Morganite found much of her processing power freed, even while keeping track of the rest of the ship.

But as she followed along, because she no longer was engrossed in purposely mind-numbing work, a singular thought that should have filled her with relief roused roiling dread instead.

'We're about to arrive…'