“We’re doing it!” Challe proclaimed with a ringmaster’s flair as Stroth entered the Fortitude’s bridge. “We’re going to Aglostarros!”
Caught off-guard, Stroth stopped in her tracks. For the past few hours, she’d been rehearsing every possible argument for why GLoW’s next move should be towards the Coreworlds’ capital, but she never expected they would do so by choice.
“W-we are?” she stammered, locking wide eyes with Challe as he crossed the bustling bridge towards her. As he drew closer, Stroth could make out dark rings around the eyes of her uneasy ally; he hadn’t slept a minute since Kollian.
“Sure,” Challe confirmed, shrugging as though it was nothing. His suit gave a loud crumpling sound as he moved, his usually immaculate attire creased and worn. “We all talked it through. I know it sounds crazy, but we reckon the Queils would never follow us that deep into the Coreworlds, and the Conglomerate wants this ship too badly to shoot it down.”
His arguments made sense, Stroth realised. She’d considered the Queil angle herself, but had focused so closely on the Fortitude’s raw defensive capabilities that she’d hardly considered the political clout it could buy them.
“Besides,” Challe continued, smiling widely despite everything, “the evidence that GLoW was on Kollian is circumstantial. As far as they know, we’d be local heroes for returning their lost ship.”
That was wishful thinking, Stroth thought, but nevertheless she rallied at this opportunity, confidence steeling her voice. “Alright,” she said, “and thank you for this.”
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