The Plousious wanted for two things: Crew, and raw material.

With a fraction of the wealth arrayed in the cargo hold, raw material would no longer be a concern. And the crew, they’d have sorted out momentarily.

She had her prize. But her priority was her people. And so Captain Vasilia flew deeper into the station…

**************************************

Ah. He was afraid she’d say something like that. Or run off. To receive both was...regrettable.

“I’m sorry, Mynx.” Dolce bowed his head, speaking to the empty air. “Would that the gods have arranged it any other way.”

He had little time to mourn; the Master may be after him at any moment, and while they were no longer together, Mynx’s idea had been a good one. Perhaps he could lose his pursuer amid the Magos’ defenses, or find some way to aid his friends from afar. He receded into the background, and padded silently to the central bunker.