The door to the bridge opened, and three figures entered. Lights flickered on, regarding their presence, illuminating the web of control decks and scurryways. They walked slowly, inspecting the bridge of the Ketch for signs of damage or age.
One, he strode with strength; his growth to Captain had been rapid, but he had adjusted well. Another, she moved with a deadly grace, lower arms on the handles of blades even in this long-abandoned place. And the last, he, who bore a wrapped walking staff attempting to serve as another leg, he moved as if every step was supporting a great and terrible weight.
Eventually they came to the chair -almost a throne- in the center of the bridge. The two warriors stepped to the side, and the old Eliksni looked on it for a moment. It was the size of an Archon or Kell. Then, with a reluctance as if ordering his legs to bend, he sat. He touched the control panels in the four-armed throne, and they responded in turn. With a whirring of arc components and the flickering of many lights, the bridge controls responded to his touch.
"My Kell, I cannot believe, after all these years, it still works," exclaimed the Captain.
"I made sure of its condition before I left," said the old one. "Always knew I would need it, yes."
The female was silent.
There was a pause, while they looked out the great, dust-covered windows to the starry blackness of space. "It will serve us well, and carry us between worlds," said the Captain. It was a statement, but the questions within it echoed in the great room.
The old Eliksni chuckled dryly. "Yes yes yes, I know you are curious, young one. Where we will go, what we will do, yes?" He reached out and handed his staff to the Captain, who took it with a bobbed bow. The elder straightened and turned in the chair, adjusting something, and the throne shrunk to fit his wiry frame. "We are the envoys. We go where the lost must be found, to gather they who have been scattered." He brought his upper arms -mechanical, both- together, looking into the expanse of stars. "We will first go to the place that will not last. Nessus, the disintegrating refuge of Dusk. They need leaders more than any other."
The Captain nodded, excited at the direct answer. "When, then? When shall we go to guide them?"
The elder chuckled, which in turn became a series of racking coughs. Upon recovery, he said, "Patience, Garics. The Ketch is intact, yes. We have hands, yes. But are they skilled?" He shook his head ruefully. "No no no. It will take time to train them in something other than a Skiff or a Pike. You understand?"
"Eia, my Kell."
The elder settled back in his seat, then looked to the Eliksa. "What is it you wanted to tell me, Sriliks?"
She began immediately, speaking in the high forms. "Kell, the Devils are moving. My Scars tell me that she will strike the City within the week, and Misraaks has moved to stop them."
"You have told me these things before. What of them?"
"I have told you, and you have not replied," she responded, an edge to the last word. "What is your plan? They, especially Eramis, will become a thorn in your side if you let them act for too long." A long pause. The Eliksa spoke again. "Remember, Kell, she is a threat that you caused. The Shipstealer would not be out there, unifying Devils again, if you hadn't released her." She leaned forward. "It is rumored that Taniks has risen once again, by a dark power. You and I both know who will hire him first."
The elder stood, and walked to the railing of the bridge's top deck. "The dregs will fight for scraps. The Devils have broken fangs, and the Light is an illusion. Judgement stands. Judgement will live." He turned again and faced her, the mask of chains swinging from under hard eyes. "You are right, I caused her reign. But if she continues by dreg strength, feeding from within, they may become strong; but they will be brittle, easily broken. Just like Skolas was, yes. If they survive the coming conflicts, they will be welcome to join us, so long as they abandon their hate. But if they insist on fighting, carrying on in the ways of hate and deceit…" He turned away, steel fingers gripping the rail so hard the metal protested. "Judgement will fall upon them."
He stood tall, defiant. The weight was still there, but it was pushed back, hidden, beneath something invisible, of incredible power.
Loyalty.
The warrior Eliksa accepted the answer. She bowed slowly, deliberately. "Yes, Variks Kell."
"Thank you, kisa." He addressed the Captain without turning. "Garics, return and bring the others aboard. It is their time to learn, yes? I will teach them what I know of Ketches."