Epilogue

I had sand in my ears, a sunburn on my nose, and a goddess snoring softly against my shoulder.

Which, all things considered, was still better than fighting corrupted clone-me inside a Exolab or getting pancaked by a hundred-foot apocalypse bot, or stabbed through the chest by a demented god wannabe. At least here, in this quiet little Exile outpost by the coast, there were no eye beams, no psychic screams, and no datacubes whispering existential dread.

Just sun, surf, and a still-sleepy Drusera curled against me in a lounge chair.

She stirred slightly, circuits glowing soft and gold like the morning light. "Mmm… I sense… contentment."

"That's called a vacation," I said, sipping the mildly spicy tropical drink someone had handed me. "You're allowed to like it."

Her eyes opened just a little. "I could get used to this."

"See?" I smirked. "You're halfway to being a beach bunny already."

"I do not understand that term. But if it involves remaining here… I am not opposed."

Across the sand, Blok was attempting to grill meat on a repurposed plasma vent. Lucy had confiscated the actual grill, citing "culinary crimes in progress," and was now sunning herself with a wide-brimmed hat and a datapad titled "Psychosomatic Technophages and You."

"You know," Lucy said without looking up, "this entire planet is still a death trap."

"Yup," I replied.

"We're relaxing in a death trap."

"Yup."

"And that doesn't concern anyone?"

"Lucy, the last person who tried to kill me was me. I deserve a break."

"I think you missed a few monsters, giant robots and deranged deities there."

I gave her an evil eye.

Blok held up a skewer triumphantly. "Success! I have tamed the flame!"

The meat was glowing slightly.

Lucy sighed. "I'm not reviving any of you if that gives you radiation poisoning."

"I don't need food," Drusera said cheerfully. "But I enjoy tasting things"

"Lucky you," I muttered, eyeing the skewer like it might start dancing.

There was a long, perfect moment where nobody screamed, nothing exploded, and I didn't feel like I was holding back the end of the world with a smile and a pair of pistols.

I tilted my head, listening.

"Hey," I said. "Is this… peace?"

"Statistically improbable," Blok replied, poking at the grill.

"Accept it anyway," Lucy added. "We've earned five damn minutes."

Drusera curled tighter against me, her tail twining around mine. "This is… nice."

"Yeah," I said, closing my eyes. "It really is."

We still had a planet to tame. And the Dominion were more pissed off than ever, But for now?

Let the world spin without us for a little while.

After that last mission, Arwick had insisted I take a break. So, here we were, in southern Malgrave, at the Exile's little get away.

Volleyball Beach.

I looked over at the flier parked above the tideline, squinting against the sun—and, yep. There they were.

Yaenna was already setting up the net with deadly precision, every knot tied like it might determine the fate of the universe. And Myala?

Myala had gone full goddess mode.

She was lying face-down on a lounge chair, utterly, regally naked, a wide-brimmed sunhat shielding her head and her tail slowly swaying like the world owed her a breeze as she worked on her tan. Her pale purple skin was already noticeably darker.

They'd just invited themselves along when Arwick had told them he was giving me R and R

A bottle of chilled berry wine floated nearby in a tiny suspension field. I had to shake my head.

It's good to be the queen.

I rubbed my temples. "I'm on mandatory vacation, and my Queen just decided to cosplay as beach furniture."

Lucy, halfway through slathering Drusera with sunscreen, didn't even look up. "Better than her cosplaying as a war criminal again."

Drusera blinked. "I do not believe Queen Myala has ever engaged in war crimes."

"She sent Val to an award ceremony in formal stripper clothes. I think that qualifies." Lucy handed her a hat shaped like a giant daisy. "Put this on."

She did, very seriously.

Blok looked up from where he was burying a six-pack in the sand like a sacred offering. "Wait, that was official dress?"

I muttered, "They were my formal dance silks, Blok."

"Yeah," he grunted. "Hoo, boy. That outfit said 'commendation' and 'condemnation.' At the same time."

Lucy adjusted her sunglasses and pointed her drink at me. "I'm just saying, if I have to write another mission report where the words 'diplomatic scandal' and 'see attached photo gallery' are in the same paragraph, I'm gonna need hazard pay."

I flopped onto my towel with a dramatic groan. "It was cultural."

Drusera sat beside me, clutching a volleyball like it contained the secrets of the universe. "Your garments were… both revealing and inspiring. Several of the consorts described them as iconic."

"Oh, gods, they did, didn't they?"

Drusera nodded solemnly. "Yaenna called it 'a defining moment in Aurin textile philosophy.'"

Lucy snorted into her drink. "I was there. One more defining moment and the human ambassador was going to pass out."

Blok popped the lid off a bottle with his thumb. "Pretty sure he did. That's why Arwick started fanning him."

I dragged my towel over my face. "I was trying to serve my people. Not serve looks."

Drusera tilted her head. "Can one not do both?" I peeked out from under the towel.

Damn it. She had a point.

One of Blok's bots stomped up behind me, carrying a cooler the size of a hover-bike, and dropped it with a beep.

"It's full of meat," Blok said proudly.

I arched a brow. "Blok. We're on a beach. In summer."

He pointed at the cooler. "That's why I froze it first. It's a beach, gotta have bar-b-que!"

Yaenna waved us over. "Come on, the net's ready!"

I groaned. "Are we actually playing? Like… competitively?"

"Drusera has requested to learn 'the sacred rites of courtship spiking,'" Yaenna said, deadpan.

I turned slowly. "Sweetheart?"

Drusera looked up at me from beneath the giant daisy hat. "Is that not the purpose of beach volleyball?"

I sighed. "It is now."

Blok snorted so hard he nearly dropped his drink. "Well, she's not wrong. Half the reason people play is to impress someone in swimwear."

I eyeballed Myala sauntering over to join us, still naked.

"…or out of swimwear."

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "The other half is pretending it's a sport and not a socially acceptable excuse to tackle your crush in sand."

I pointed a dramatic finger at both of them. "I knew there was a reason I hated this game."

Drusera stepped forward, cradling the volleyball like it was a newborn concept. "I have reviewed over three hundred hours of recorded footage. I am confident in my ability to 'set,' 'serve,' and 'trash talk.'"

Blok narrowed his eyes. "Wait. Trash talk?"

"I have prepared taunts," Drusera said, with absolute sincerity. "Would you like a sample?"

Lucy nodded without hesitation. "Absolutely."

Drusera took a breath, stood a little taller, and said in the same tone she used to describe galactic apocalypses:

"Your tactics are inefficient and your coordination is reminiscent of a malfunctioning autocleaning unit."

Blok cackled and nearly choked on his beer.

I sat back up with a groan. "Oh no. Oh no. You've weaponized her."

Lucy grinned wickedly. "Oh yeah. Chaos Goddess on the court. This is going to be amazing."

Drusera smiled sweetly and offered me a hand. "Shall we form a team, beloved?"

I took her hand and stood, brushing sand off my hips. "Fine. But if I dive for a ball and you levitate it out of spite, I'm not making you dinner tonight."

She tilted her head. "Even if I score the winning point with a metaphor?"

"…Damn it."

"Besides, I don't need to eat anyway."

I squinted at her. "That is so not the point."

Drusera leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Then what is the point, Valya?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Looked down at our joined hands, then back up at her ridiculously earnest daisy hat.

"…You win this round, metaphor gremlin."

She beamed like I'd just gifted her the moon.

Lucy jogged over, already rolling her shoulders. "Alright, nerds. Team assignments. Blok and I versus the chaos couple."

Blok gave a dramatic sigh. "We're going to lose."

"You say that like it's not tradition," I said, tossing the ball to Drusera. "Just try not to get smoked too badly."

Blok's eyes narrowed. "You've activated my competitive instincts."

Drusera gasped and made fists in front of her chest earnestly. "Then we must crush them for the good of team morale."

"Sweetheart," I said, half-laughing, half-scandalized, "you are supposed to be the nice one!"

She gave me a perfectly serene look. "I am being nice. I shall smile as I destroy them."

Lucy muttered, "Yep. We've created a monster."

Yaenna blew a whistle made of seashell. "Let the beach war begin!"

The moment the shell-whistle sounded, Blok immediately served the ball with all the subtlety of a missile launch. It arced like a comet, slamming toward our side like it had personal beef with the sand.

Drusera blinked, lifted one delicate hand—and the ball stopped mid-air.

Hovering. Spinning.

Everyone froze.

"Sweetheart," I said slowly, "we're playing volleyball, not Jedi dodgeball."

"Oh!" she said brightly, releasing the ball. It dropped like a rock. "Apologies. I thought it was hostile."

Lucy pinched the bridge of her nose then turned to Blok accusingly. "You named the team 'Chaos Couple.' What did you think was going to happen?"

Blok retrieved the ball with a grunt. "New rule. No psychic interceptions."

"Agreed," Yaenna called. "Unless it's funny. Then I'm allowing it retroactively."

Myala giggled. Come on dear, put some clothes on, you're distracting.

Drusera gave me a sidelong glance. "I can still spike it psychokinetically, yes?"

"Only if it's with flair," I said.

"Oh good." She turned to the net, eyes glowing faintly. "I have been practicing my dramatic flair."

Lucy gave me a long look. "She's weaponizing drama now?"

I smirked. "Welcome to my life."

Blok thudded down into the sand next to Lucy and muttered, "I give it five minutes before the volleyball explodes."

"Ten if Yaenna cheats," Lucy replied, taking a sip of something suspiciously tropical from a glass shaped like a cactus.

Yaenna, on the other side of the net, was already stretching like this was an intergalactic championship. "Cheating is just strategic redefinition of fairness," she called sweetly.

Next to her Myala nodded affirmatively, still stubbornly naked.

"That's what cheaters say," I muttered.

Drusera stepped up beside me, her oversized daisy hat casting a huge shadow over both of us. "I am ready, Beloved."

"You sure? This might get weird."

She tilted her head in that innocent, terrifying way. "We are playing a courtship ritual that involves throwing objects at our rivals in the sun. I fail to see how it could get more weird."

"…Fair point." I tossed the ball to her. "Your serve, Goddess of Spikes."

She caught it mid-air, raised one elegant hand—and the ball ignited in golden light.

Lucy groaned. "Oh no."

Blok just muttered, "Yup. There it goes." Drusera smiled.

The ball screamed through the air like divine judgment.

Yaenna dived out of the way as the court exploded, half burying her in the sand.

Blok hauled himself to his feet as Yaenna crawled out of the sand and dusted herself off. He looked in the crater.

"I think I can see the other side."

"Of what?" Myala asked curiously

"The planet."

Drusera beamed like she'd just completed a particularly satisfying puzzle. "Was that... acceptable form?"

Lucy stared at the crater. "Sweetheart, that was a war crime in four sports jurisdictions."

I clapped her lightly on the shoulder. "We're playing volleyball, not smiting the wicked."

She blinked. "But I thought they were the opposing team."

"They are. You're not supposed to actually annihilate them."

"Oh." She looked mildly disappointed. "Then I shall reduce the payload."

Yaenna coughed out a mouthful of sand. "That was reduced?!"

Blok reached into the cooler and cracked another bottle open. "We're gonna need more beer."

Lucy tilted her cactus glass. "We're gonna need a referee and a priest."

I just sighed and picked up the backup volleyball—the one with scorch marks from the last time Drusera got enthusiastic.

"Okay. Team Bunny-Goddess, regroup. Let's aim for victory without terraforming this time."

Drusera raised her hand solemnly. "Understood. Mercy level: casual devastation."

Blok muttered, "I'm never playing sports with demigods again."

Lucy leaned on her knees, squinting toward the opposite side of the net. "I think Yaenna's trying to recalibrate her sense of mortality."

"Good," I said, spinning the scorched volleyball in my hand. "She could use a little humility."

Drusera floated beside me, posture perfect, hands neatly folded like she was awaiting a prayer to answer. "Shall I hold back further?"

"Let's go with playful annihilation," I said. "Just enough to win, not enough to be classified as divine wrath."

She smiled. "I will try to modulate my power."

Blok gave an exasperated sigh and thudded back to his spot. "Next time, we're playing cards. With normal people. Who don't glow."

Lucy raised a brow. "Pretty sure I glow under blacklight."

"Then you're banned too."

Yaenna, from the other side of the net, stood up, adjusted her sunhat (now slightly on fire), and pointed a dramatic finger. "Your war crimes will not go unanswered! We fight in the name of beach justice!"

Myala put her hands on her hips and nodded vigorously, her tits bouncing. "That's right. Let our sacred rite of volleyball continue!"

Drusera tilted her head. "Should we begin the sacred chant of recreational vengeance?"

I looked at her. "Sweetheart, that's just called trash talk."

Her smile turned wicked. "Then I will trash talk... with grace."

Lucy deadpanned, "We've definitely created a monster."

"Yeah," I grinned, tossing the ball up for serve, "but she's my monster."

The ball cracked off my hand like thunder, arcing high into the sunlit sky.

Drusera tracked its path with glowing eyes, wings of light flaring faintly behind her as she whispered, "Trajectory locked."

On the far side, Yaenna scrambled into position, waving her arms. "No powers! No glowing! No divine geometry!"

Myala, still bouncing in mind meltingly fun ways added, "Only one smite per match. House rules."

Lucy muttered under her breath. "I feel like we're not insured for this." The ball came down like a comet.

Yaenna dove, somehow caught it, and rolled—sputtering sand and triumph in equal measure. "Hah!"

Blok blinked. "She lives."

Drusera clapped politely. "Excellent resilience! Shall I increase difficulty?"

"No," came a chorus from both teams.

Drusera paused. "Perhaps... a marginal increase in elegance, then."

I leaned over and whispered, "Graceful vengeance, sweetie. Remember?"

Her smile was radiant. "Graceful. Vengeful. Recreational."

Lucy squinted at me. "You taught her irony. Didn't you?"

"Technically," I said, "I just taught her to win pretty."

Blok sighed. "We're never going to survive the post-game snacks, are we?"

"Oh, we'll survive," I said, flashing a grin. "We just might not walk right after."

Drusera's ears perked. "That was a double entendre, yes?"

I gave her a wink. "Now you're getting it."

She beamed—an actual, bright-as-a-supernova, delighted smile—and if the sun hadn't already been shining, I swear that moment alone would've powered the entire beach.

"Then I shall endeavor," she said, with devastating sincerity, "to master the art of the double entendre."

Lucy choked on her drink. "Oh no."

Blok didn't even look up. "We're doomed."

"I am excited," Drusera continued, hands folded neatly. "Wordplay is such a versatile weapon."

Yaenna pointed across the net. "Can we just play before she levels up again?"

I bounced the ball on my hip, grinning. "Let's. Team Bunny-Goddess, prepare for... graceful vengeance, part two."

Drusera raised her hands solemnly. "Let our justice be swift and our metaphors devastating."

"Sweetheart," I whispered, "you're supposed to scare them, not seduce them."

She tilted her head. "Why not both?"

And I swear, even the volleyball glowed a little brighter before I served it.

The serve shot across the net like divine judgment wrapped in sunbeams and sass.

Myala shrieked and flung herself sideways—this time managing to hit the ball, but it ricocheted off Blok's head and straight into a cooler, where it detonated a soda can with a fizzy pop.

Silence.

Then Blok, very dryly: "You've weaponized flirtation."

Lucy lifted her drink. "To be fair, she's been doing that since the award ceremony."

Drusera smiled modestly. "I was merely expressing emotional sincerity in a socially acceptable competitive context."

I gave her a side-eye. "Sweetheart, that ball just achieved atmospheric reentry velocity."

She blinked. "Then I shall serve softer next time."

"No," Yaenna croaked from behind her towel fortress, "please don't. I think the sand is crying."

I sauntered back to our side of the court, tail swishing with absolutely earned smugness. "You heard the woman. Graceful vengeance and glowing balls of justice. That's just how we roll."

Blok rubbed his forehead. "Next mission, I'm requesting ice planets only."

Drusera nodded serenely. "I have always wanted to learn ice sculpting."

Lucy leaned toward me. "You realize you're never getting a normal day off again, right?"

I smirked. "Define 'normal.'" The next serve was a lob.

But it still broke the sound barrier.

I stood in the door to the flier and stretched as I surveyed the devastation.

Saturation bombing would have done less damage.

Note to self, never play volleyball with Dru again

Blok trudged past me, dragging what was left of the net—now frayed, half-vaporized, and somehow on fire. "Pretty sure this counts as an ecological disaster."

Lucy followed, arms full of half-melted beach chairs and what might have once been a cooler. "There's a crater shaped like her assprint. That's gonna show up on satellite imagery."

Yaenna limped by holding up a bent sunhat like a trophy. "Beach justice was technically served."

A still naked Myala giggled

Behind us, Drusera floated serenely, still glowing faintly, her daisy hat miraculously pristine. "I enjoyed our bonding ritual."

I squinted at the shattered shoreline. "Yeah. We're bonded. Through mutually assured sandblasting."

Drusera tilted her head. "Does this mean I win?"

I gave her a look. "Sweetheart, you vaporized a volleyball."

"I modulated the 'divine wrathfulness'," she said, entirely too pleased with herself.

I sighed and hauled myself into the pilot's seat. "Next time Arwick says 'take a vacation,' I'm faking the flu."

Drusera beamed, daisy hat bobbing as she floated in after me. "I am very proud of you, Valya. You performed admirably under pressure."

I blinked. "You mean on the beach?"

"I meant emotionally. Also, your serve improved dramatically under duress."

Lucy groaned. "Can we go now? I need a long nap and a short therapy session."

Blok tossed the scorched remains of the net into the flier's cargo bay. "Just another day with Team Bunny-Goddess." I started the engines.

"Next stop: anywhere with no sports."

Arwick yelled at me for a week.

Not the good kind of yelling, either—not the "you've made me proud but I have to pretend I'm mad" sort. No, this was full-on "I told you to rest and instead you got banned from Malgrave's coastline for environmental terrorism." yelling.

To be fair, I had rested. Just… aggressively. With divine assistance.

Drusera tried to defend me, of course.

"She achieved measurable relaxation metrics," she offered helpfully.

"She left a crater!" Arwick roared. "In the volleyball court!"

Drusera looked mildly proud. "My aim has improved."

Lucy had to leave the room halfway through to avoid laughing. Blok just sat in the corner sipping tea and muttering something about 'spiritual insurance policies.' I, wisely, said nothing.

Well. Not until Arwick paused to take a breath.

Then I may have said, "Hey, at least I didn't punch any diplomats this time."

He turned purple.

Worth it.