The ogres are often described as feral savages, and other times as a sophisticated, if insular species. Either way, they have been extinct for millennia. All records agree that their stubborn independence and combative nature led to their own downfall, for they had no allies to turn to when their doom came upon them.

  – Percy Maddison, Mythic Historian

  PAN

  The prismatic colors of Etherspace were fascinating, and Pan could lose himself in them for hours… but not today.

  His ribs and arm still hurt, and Filo told him that they’d likely hurt for a while yet. Modern medicine had helped with the actual injuries, but his right arm was still in a splint for the lower half, and his knees were aching as well. That last one was his own fault, though. He shouldn’t have decided to crawl into the maintenance tunnels while injured.

  That was just the best place to lay there without anyone coming in.

  Pan knew he could have just picked an empty berth or even his own room. The Draconis was a full-fledged frigate and expected a much larger crew than the eighteen people currently running the ship. Pan wasn’t sure how many were needed, but he knew it was more than a score… and he knew they didn’t actually need that because of what Apex really was.

  There were plenty of places to hide without much chance to be found, but that wasn’t the point. Pan liked the tight corridors, the claustrophobic feeling. It was comforting, and reminded him of the few times he’d felt truly safe back when he was still growing up. He’d often squirmed into small spaces and gaps left by the haphazard construction of the habitat, and it had saved him from harassment multiple times.

  He didn’t need that, here. Even the most hostile of the crew gave him a small nod in passing, and only expressed their displeasure by keeping their distance. Some of them – including Sallus, surprisingly – were even kind to him. He felt like a part of the crew, its tensions and dangers included.

  It wasn’t a feeling he was used to. At all.

  The narrow tunnel he was in widened as he crawled through it, the metallic surroundings humming softly and mildly warmer than the rest of the ship. It would be a tight but serviceable fit for an orc or other bulky race, but for him it was just comfortably snug. The space ahead of him was much bigger, which he knew usually meant it was a spot that either needed maintenance more, or something critical enough to allow more room during work.

  Pan’s headlamp sputtered, then brightened as he eased himself into the larger space. He felt a wash of soothing, tingling warmth all through his body, a strange sensation like he had just walked into a warm bath. Aside from his still throbbing wrist, he felt better than he’d felt in weeks. Minor aches and pains he’d pushed to the back of his mind vanished, leaving him oddly energetic.

  The brighter headlamp let him see more clearly how odd this place was. The tunnel ended at a large door, one that was modern and new-looking compared to the rest of the ancient ship. The alloy used in most of the ship didn’t rust, but it still took on subtle signs of weathering and a thin layer of grime. The solid, handle-less door lacked any of those signs, nor did it have any lettering on it to tell Pan what it led to.

  All around the rest of the small chamber, pulsing purplish cords threaded along the walls and ceiling. The massed collection vanished into the far wall, around the door, with many of the lines – mana circuitry, he realized – obviously added later. The rough signs of drilling and shaving and imperfect filling around the cords where they penetrated the bulkhead made it extremely clear they were not initially part of the design.

  It was dark, and still kind of cramped for any normal-sized being, and looked like a mess.

  Pan clicked off his headlamp, pulled it off, and just lay down on the floor on his back. The dim purple glow of the circuitry was enough for him to see well enough, once his elf eyes adjusted to the low light. The pulsing hum seemed to ripple through him, like a warm massage along his bones.

  It was soothing. Comfortable.

  “Am I to assume that you’re the one tucked away near my core, Pan? Did you crawl into that hole to die?”

  Apex cut through the stillness with a voice that sounded tinny and distant, at first. Pan realized his earpiece was attached to the headband the light was mounted on, and tugged it over to tuck it against his head again. He wasn’t sure how long he’d lain there, but apparently it had been long enough for the dragon to notice.

  “I’m still alive,” he reassured Apex. Or informed, since he still wasn’t certain how much the dragon cared about his well-being. “I just like being away from everyone for a little while, and since you won’t be doing any maneuvers in Etherspace this seemed like the time to relax.”

  Pan rested his head back again… then what Apex had said sunk in as he made some connections.

  “Can you not see me or talk to me this way?”

  Apex rumbled in his ear. “Can you talk to the blood in your veins normally? Not every place here has cameras or speakers. I felt something in a part of me affecting the flow of mana, and could not find you when I looked. It was not hard to guess.”

  The gobling spread his arms out wide and stared at the ceiling. “Makes sense. I’m not bothering you here, am I? There are an awful lot of mana circuits here. It feels kind of cozy for me, but if it’s hurting you…”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “It does not hurt me.” Apex’s voice took on a more dismissive, less interested tone now. “I can feel your presence, but it would be difficult to explain to someone still flesh and blood how I feel it. The area you are in is likely heavy with ambient mana thanks to the conduits, which reduces the strain on your body that your disease brings.”

  “I like it.” Pan breathed in deeply, his ribs giving only a faint twinge… from injury, for once, not from the normal aches. “Do you mind if I come here during Etherspace jumps?”

  The dragon was silent for a long time, and at first Pan thought that Apex had mentally moved on to something else. It wasn’t like him to completely ignore a question, but he did often say he had other things to do.

  “A few hours every week would do you well, but overexposure will hasten your demise.” The rumbling voice spoke abruptly, as if continuing right where the conversation had left off without acknowledging the pause. “Your body is dealing with a mixture of mana starvation and mana saturation. Too much will cause your body to break down. I would rather not have the crew complaining of the smell of dead goblin coming from the vents.”

  “Gobling, thank you.” Pan huffed and made a gesture at the ceiling, despite being fully aware Apex couldn’t see it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Also do not touch the mana conduits. If there is a break in them you can’t see, it will run through you even worse than a normal person.” Apex’s warning sounded almost like an afterthought. “If you are lucky, you will be dead instantly.”

  The youth closed his eyes. Apex was so hard to read, sometimes, but Pan had noticed that at least some part of the dragon wanted to keep him alive. Was it gratitude, interest, or mere coincidence? He didn’t know, and doubted he ever would.

  “I’ll be careful,” he said aloud. “I’m glad your plan worked. I hope my advice helped a little. I know it must have been hard asking someone like me for help. Do you think you can handle the Enforcers now that the pirate is dead?”

  “I doubt that Gristlemaw is dead.” Apex grumbled this time, annoyance in his tone. “Unless I was fortunate enough to send him close to a star or something equally hazardous. The chances are he was hurled into open space and will simply jump back to familiar territory… but it will take time for him to get his bearings. We should be finished in this area by the time he recovers.”

  Pan opened his eyes again. He imagined he could see the eddies and swirls of the mana coursing through the walls and cords around him, hidden in the faint heartbeat of the ship’s artificial pulse. It was a pleasant idea, that he could see that, though he knew it was just a trick of the change in lighting.

  “What will you do if he keeps chasing you? Keep hiding?”

  The dragon’s silence was again lengthier than usual, stretching on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

  “Right now, my stealth is my greatest asset. Yet the more I use it, the more I give the Lesser Folk a chance to solve the problem.” Apex answered at last with a rumbling murmur that was thoughtful more than worried. “I cannot rely on it. It is impossible to completely mask my presence, I have only been fortunate that their reliance on certain sensors makes them blind to me.”

  That was interesting, but Pan wasn’t an expert on space combat, and wasn’t sure where Apex was going with this. He held his tongue, more curious about why the dragon was so talkative today.

  “This body is old and in poor repair. It is, in a word, dying. My stealth was developed because that is the only thing I can do with these weak circuits, and only works because the ship is my body, and dragons use magic differently than the Lesser Folk. I must strengthen it.”

  He paused again, and finally Pan realized where he was going with this.

  “Here while we hunt our prey, our options are limited. It is easy for a hunter so skilled as Gristlemaw to guess where we are going.” Apex rumbled that with a faint undertone of annoyance. “Once we have succeeded, we can choose any star in the Coalition to hide and recover. We can fix my frame and circuits, and perhaps the next encounter, when he finally does find me, we will be more evenly matched.”

  “You’re hoping that you can avoid him long enough to challenge him.” Pan’s summary was light, almost playful… as he’d suggested the same thing.

  Apex just snorted lightly in the earpiece, but did not deny the connection between Pan’s advice and the plan he came up with.

  Slowly, Pan pushed himself up to a sitting position, his eyes staring upward at the aged cables running around him. With a quiet sigh, his thoughts drifted.

  “I’d like to live long enough to see you kill a hero.”

  The words came out of his mouth unbidden, and even he was surprised when he said that. Until that orc in the station, he’d never actually killed someone. A shiver went down his spine. Was he becoming bloodthirsty like they all claimed goblins were?

  “Do not be so quick to want blood.” Apex chided with a mellow voice this time, one that made it hard for Pan to guess what it meant. “You have had a difficult life, yet you have remained an essentially kind and helpful being.”

  Pan sighed, “Sorry. I just… my life isn’t fair, like you said, and if they’re heroes why didn’t they rescue me?” He paused. “And… they also hurt you badly. I’m angry at them for you. I’m surprised you care about me wanting them dead.”

  “Because they are not heroes.” The dragon’s reply was blunt as usual, but lacked the venom that Pan expected. “We must all be true to our natures. You Lesser Folk are… lesser, yes. But the uncomfortable truth is that my kind were on the decline even before my murder. You should feel angry not that they killed me, but that they took dominance of the world instead of earning it.”

  The gobling furrowed his brow and thought about that. This was getting more metaphysical than he really wanted to understand.

  “Is it okay to still want them to pay for what they did? I guess I just want to see you feel some satisfaction before I die.”

  An amused chuckle came from the communicator. “You do not even know what they did… but you know it was wrong. There are very few things that I consider wrong for both of our peoples. Still… you did help me as only you could.”

  The dragon rumbled again, thoughtfully. His next words were said with an easy tone, yet Pan felt something behind them. Some mystical pressure that clenched his very soul for a moment.

  “I will do all within my power to ensure you witness at least one hero’s death.”

  The Last Place You Look