The song of the radar echoed in Benn's ears. Dusty looked unimpressed by the magnitude of his own discovery, although it could have as easily been that even his machines did not escape the irritated leer he cast over everyone in his vicinity. Benn had almost the discovery herself, and would have been out of the loop again had not Tabai dragged her down here by the ear. Tabai had a knack for sinking her teeth in where it hurt. Maybe the large Canis knew which bits of the ears were the most tender from the last time she'd shown herself her place. Now, the Canis stood over Dusty (she was so tall that she dwarfed even the other Canii aboard, and that she almost drew up even with Cassie, a Fauna who must have been a quarter of her weight), and asked the question on all of their minds: "It's dragons, isn't it?"
Dusty leered into the red light of the radar, which pinged again. Whatever it was, they were drawing closer at an astounding rate. "Who else would it be?"

Benn's back feet itched to give them a taste of combat.

"We should attempt diplomacy before we apply haste," Tabai said. "How are the inter-ship comms?"
Dusty said, "Distance. They'll also need to have systems on their ship to receive comms, which I can't guess until they get close. Traditional Elysian ships usually don't. No need to communicate with anyone, because they're dragons."

The group muttered with a firm round of assent to this. Benn felt herself bristle up slightly, but she had to agree that she'd never met a dragon she liked. She'd met almost no one she liked anyways, but that was besides the point.

"Of course, our communications aren't limited like that on a Sentient ship," Dusty explained. "That's one of the Tabulan principles of interspirit communication. Anything that you can pull the magical field of is open to communication with, using the ship as a conduit point. However, this ship is foreign, so it doesn't have a spirit, and there's no conduit, as you can tell by the lack of a lancer's horn out in front of the ship. One might even say that it's an empty husk incapable of feelings, one might go further to say it violates every principle of breathing design incorporated by your average Omnian vessel, be it land, sea, or sky. This thing also burns-- yes, burns-- actual fuel, releasing thousands of tons of poisonous refuse into deep space--"
The ship shook with a second song, layering itself over the first. This one was less of a ping and more of a guttural wail, as if the ship was choking on something. One of the small screens in the dashboard lit up. Alexa glared at the foreign language, which only she and Dusty had been taught any degree of communications in (changing all the signs was easy, but rewiring foreign tech was a catastrophe) and selected a button.

The noise intensified. The whole group, sensitive of hearing as they were, practically ducked to the floor. Alexa grabbed a knob with her mouth instead of telekinesis and yanked it to the side before jolting back, snout twitching, but the noise seemed to obey her wishes, levelling off into something that might even be called "normal conversation volume". On the screen was a flickering image of a dragon.

"So you are equipped with comms," Alexa said.

The dragon nodded. Its crown of sensory horns undulated around its face, while the stiff horns in the center shone with a fierce light. The color of the screen was poor, and thusly, the image quality as well, and it was all literal, without a hint of magic to it. The indignity of the multiverse's two great magical races stooping to such a means of communication was a bitter irony indeed. "We are." It was impossible to tell how many were actually aboard. It was a tendency of the dragons to refer to themselves in the plural, since they were all more or less sheep. Ruthless, murdering sheep, but still very much compliant. You just had to bring a larger dragon into the picture. The dragon continued, "We take it you are also looking for seraph Call 10-01-11."
That was base. Using that number system made it look like there were far more seraphs out there than they were, but in reality, almost all of the 39 seraphs identified in the multiverse so far were either impossible to reach, impossible to communicate with, or very, very hard to kill. "We are indeed. I take it your mission is of a similar prestige and intention?" asked Alexa. "We would like to warn you, for your own sake, that we have no intentions on playing nicely, and that if you are also in pursuit of 10-01-11, it would be far safer for you to turn around now."

"We would like to inform you that there is no escaping the gravity well," the dragon said, curtly. "Nor are we afraid of a motley crew."

"Oh, like you don't have a sub-breed cloaker on there. I guarantee you've got at least three dragons who aren't red-blooded Elysian, yet you're going to sit here and lecture me--" Alexa was cut off by Tabai.

"Our variety has given us twice the strength we could have summoned on a whole-Canis crew," Tabai said, any smoothtalking half-cut by her own rage. "Do not attempt to have us at each other's necks. We'll as soon take yours, is that clear?"

The dragon looked unimpressed. "Have you contacted the seraph yet? You'll need to pact in with them to begin the game, at the least, that's our running hypothesis."

"We have no plans to make deals with the enemy," Alexa barked up from the corner. "Be it the seraph, or be it you."

"It seems we've already agreed to begin sharing information. That's a kind of pact, but if you'd rather find our business informal, we would be happy to begin speaking with you on purely a business basis," the dragon responded. "On that happy note, it seems likely we will meet face-to-face, if not at the first planet, then after that. You are free to kneel to the seraph at any time, and allow us to continue the mission-- you are used to taking orders from their disgusting ilk, aren't you?" Their face winked off the screen.

Lucil's visage shone ominously in the dim light of the room, her six seraphim wings shining over a prosperous Omnia, and her six twisted horns upon her like a spired crown. The Auspicia reminded them with two dazzling green eyes, both slit by rectangular pupils, that they would only be caving to one seraph.

Dusty paced the floor. "Incredible. Did we lose that?"

"You're thinking of diplomacy far too reductively," said Tabai, "We did not 'win' anything, but we couldn't have. We can only choose to engage in a matter that both parties find productive, and result in a mutually beneficial understanding."
Benn shook her head. "We should have verbally thrashed them. That's winning."

Cassie interjected, "If we were going the way Alexa was going with insults, surprisingly, I think I'd like to pass."

"Cassie, Benn, Pechi, you've insurmountable value to the crew. If anyone would like to oppose, we can dispute that," Tabai said with a pointed glance in Alexa's direction.

"I enjoy the magical versatility. I was making a point," Alexa snarled.
"Don't make it! Don't make the point. Listen. Do you know where we're located at present?" asked Tabai.

"Dusty, give us coordinates," Alexa looked to Dusty, who gave her a brief nod.

"Let me rephrase that. Where are we currently not, Alexa?" asked Tabai.

The gold Canis was already slipping back into the protective shell of indifference. She looked out the window, and said, "I dare you to tell me we're anywhere."

"We're not in Omnia," Tabai responded. "All their hierarchies are only useful as us as they apply to our task. That grants us the administrative freedom to strive for exceeding democracy, here--"

"--wonderful," Benn said. Tabai's voice made her a little nauseous, frankly. You could see shock in the others eyes, but none of it would ever be productive. They were empty, beautiful words, like a glass vase with nothing inside it, and the second they were asked to hold anything, they'd show how impractical the design was from the first. "So. Did the dragons kill G'ana?"

"Unlikely," Dusty said. "By the way, we're roughly five million legions from the sun, with two million to go before we hit the first planet. (Just while I'm being asked to do my job.) The more pressing point is that it is highly unlikely the dragons infiltrated this building's security. There were no marks anywhere on G'ana's room, especially nothing that would have evidenced burning, but this also has a nervous system, so there are wires fraught through all the walls that detect for local values that have encountered some kind of exclusion events to regular checksums. That is, if anything happens, the 'brain' wakes up, and it can't be magically tampered with, because this ship isn't magic. It's a simple physical matter. We could always postulate one of the dragons is intangible, but that's not how cloaking works, so it would have to be a specialized rogue agent... and the chances of that seem on first glance to be plausible, because this is an advanced mission, but Elysians actually have no reason to go after seraphs save for to sell body parts on the market, or to prevent us from going after seraphs. Thusly, it's a waste of resources to assign an impermeable agent, given that's legitimately one of the hardest brands of magic and it's not affiliated, regularly, with Elysians."

Pechi nodded. "Th-that was a point. That was at least t-ten good points. May I also add that dragons classified under Impermia usually need highly specific living conditions, the like of which would only be available under a modified ship? Most of their abilities are light-based, and generally derive from long periods of solar exposure to generate enough ability for mass reshuffling. Dragon classifications are a mess, of course, but--"

"Thank you, Pechi," Tabai said. She turned direly to the others. "It's likely one of our number or the seraph. What do we make of that?"

"We drop it," Cassie said.

A round of quiet assent rose from Alexa, Dusty, and Pechi, the former of whom nodded and the latter of whom pricked her ears before jerking her head up and down a few times.

"You're kidding," Tabai murmured.

"You all killed her, didn't you?" added Benn, incredulous. "There is no other reason you would be acting this suspiciously."

"It was probably the seraph. We're in here, aren't we? No matter what could have happened with dragons, the truth is we're in this 'game' now, and it's likely G'ana's already paid the consequences of that. It's at least a more satisfying answer than conspiracy, at least in my humble opinion! We can keep working this out if we really want, and I can allot a little time to it, I suppose, but if it's going to turn us on each other, well, that's probably exactly what the seraph is intending to do right now," Cassie plodded across the room, turning and plodding back, deep in thought. "I don't think G'ana would have wanted in-fighting. I know we don't want to appoint a new captain, and that'll tear us apart, too, if we do it, but we could also just finish this mission as peers. Everything G'ana said previously is still true. We're still experts in our fields, even if we're no longer in our fields. Deep space is our pasture, now. Whatever clouds gather overhead, whoever strays from the fold, we need to focus on the mission."

"Brutal," Tabai said, at last, "I wouldn't have expected it of you, Cassie."

Cassie's blue eyes welled with hurt. "I'm being honest. Apologies. Really."

Tabai swished her tail and said, "Well, I'll be out. We are done for this iteration of the meetings?"

"Go get sleep," Dusty said. "We don't know how long we'll be on the first world. It could be hours or a few years."

"That was a joke, right?" said Pechi in a hushed voice. "He's joking."

"He's not joking," Alexa agreed. "If there are any more dragon transmissions, we'll bother you then. Scram."

"You aren't going to put up security for the seraph? In case it tries to enter again?"

"If a seraph feels like killing us, we would all be dead. There's nothing on the ship to indicate foreign presences..." Dusty hit the radar again with his paw. No avail. "...it could get around magical or literal defense, just so you know. It's a seraph. They're the most powerful beings in the entire universe, and the only thing we have going on it is that there are seven of us, instead of several hundred, so it can't do anything too stupid with mob mentality. Of course, it could just shoot us out of the sky, but it hasn't killed us yet. I'm going with Cassie's hypothesis. We're in the game. G'ana got herself killed. Case settled."

Benn watched him fidget with the dashboard, while Alexa, on his side, regained use of the controls. The two of them were efficient, certainly, but each time they glanced at each other it spelled lightning. There were all kinds of hidden meanings in every grimace, and Benn backed up, imagining conspiracy. Alexa's eyes fell on her again, unforgiving, and Benn's incisors showed as she bared her teeth. "That's convenient for the both of you," Benn warned.

"Convenient? That we're down a captain? It's problematic for certain," said Alexa, with a poisonous sweetness to her voice. "She could have helped us with the dragon."

Benn's back foot jerked out and she kicked a chair over. Dusty finally looked up, jaw slack with confusion or amusement (and which would be worse?) before Benn turned tail, stepping on the broken chair leg and getting a good number of Omnian splinters lodged up her pawpad.

Back in the exercise room, which had been untouched by her shipmates, Benn mulled the events over in tandem with the swing of the bag. Alexa and Dusty still being suspicious. Thump. Nothing on the radars. Thump. The seraphs had chosen a single victim. Thump. A board of professionals. What kind of a joke was that? Everyone aboard was professionally bad at their job, and yet they all seemed so snidely proud of their inability to work that even confronting them about that was out of the question.

The door opened.

"Cassie, I'm not coming," Benn yelled, but Tabai walked in instead. Benn steadied the bag with her back foot. "Oh, it's just you."

"What are you doing down here?" asked Tabai.

"In under a minute, it will be up here, and then it will be down here again," Benn said. "2.739 rotations a second, I believe, however long that holds out. There's almost no friction, but 'almost none' is code for 'too much'. If it doesn't round down to zero in extreme conditions..."

The bag shuffled back and forth, clicking on its restraints. Tabai had situated herself in the corner, looking amused, and her eyes were full of a warmth that could not come from mockery. "Stop that."

"I want to know you better. We're shipmates," Tabai said. "Soothespeaker and Vidant. There's so little chemistry between terms, but the two of us, we at least share similar concerns. I think I could at least help you with some of yours current issues with..." she trailed off.

"Oh. So you're down here to pacify me," Benn said. "Admit it next time."

Tabai huffed. "You're pigeonholing my occupation."

"You're lying," Benn retorted. "Don't tell me that you're here for my service when you're here for theirs. Who told you to come here?"

"No one. I came for my own purposes."

"So it's self-enabled condescension. I'm so relieved," griped Benn.

"You could stand to be a little bit less frosty," Tabai said. It was a quick swipe, unveiled by honey, and Benn found herself begging to get hit again, if it only meant that Tabai would drop the sweet facade she was nurturing like a broken bone.

Benn continued, "Excuse me for being bitter. I think I'm allowed to be, given circumstances-- don't tell me that I should keep my head up and put on a big, stupid smile. I'm not here to lie about my emotions, especially to the squadron downstairs. Would you like me to go right up to their faces and tell them I'm happy to be working with them, when all they've done thus far is offend my species, belittle my abilities, and write off any concerns I had? Should I roll over so that they can get a better shot at my stomach, Tabai?"

"The reason they've embittered you is because you have been nothing short of delusionally hostile. Try practicing any kind of positive emotion. Reign in the rage. Be grateful for what is going to plan, ignore the rest. It's not necessarily a good solution. It's just the most fortuitous way forwards."

"Maybe for cowards," Benn raised her head with pride, so that she was staring at Tabai's face instead of her chest fur. "And I don't do gratitude. If I earned it, it's mine, if I didn't, I didn't. I don't need to thank some nebulous universal force for the thing I got of my own grit. If you're so certain I have something I should personally thank someone for, why don't you list it out?"
"Food, shelter, prestige--"

"--absolutely not, earned all three by merit of my position--"

Tabai's face hardened. "I'm going to say it. You should be glad you're Canis-passing."

Benn's eyes flashed with fire. "Get out of the room."

Tabai's fur bristled like that of a Felis. "I'm trying to help you."

"Your crap only works on idiots, Tabai!" Benn said. "Have you considered I'm smarter than to be lead like a kaanin off a cliff? Pacifism can kiss my ass, as can everyone on this ship."

"I take it you're not easily suggestible. You may continue to think that's a virtue for as long as it continues to serve you poorly," Tabai said. "I'll leave you to it, then, but if you'd ever like to work on a strategy more conducive to legitimate progress, you are free to meet with me at any time." She left with another defiant flick of her tail-- it was a confusing gesture, jerking to the right like that usually meant some kind of joy or friendship. This was why Benn had cropped her tail a long time ago with telekinesis (there had been a lot of blood, but she wouldn't have let anyone else near it if it doubled her Vidant's spending allowance)-- letting anyone know what you were thinking, giving them something to grab, that was already weakness.

Space whirred around them both. Benn could hear it in the walls. She put her back paws to the bag again, and kicked it, half-heartedly. It always came back for more punishment. She had no intentions of becoming the group punching bag, herself. She intended to be doing the kicking, if necessary, all the way down.