Clara was still not speaking to her by the time they arrived at their father’s space station. Or spaceship? Spaceship station? 50 Years ago StoneHand Perro had been a member of the Hallaas tribe, a scavenger tribe in service to the empire(as all dwarven tribes were) tasked with shadowing a human Clan as the nomads patrolled the Empire’s borders. A good scavenger, and fiercely loyal to his tribe, Stonehand had shocked his chieftain and elders when he applied for his own Tribe permit and settled on an ancient Dragon Colony ship. Colony ships were massive relics from an age before Ether drives, when Dragon’s expanded their territory through transporting millions of beings from system to system over decades and centuries. Ancient, decrepit, and dangerously outdated, the few colony ships that were still in existence were usually avoided. But Stonehand Perro had adopted the ship, as he had adopted so many other beings, and named it after a legendary human hero. Gary.

  .

  They came out of slip space near the 4th planet of the Kalan System, Gary ahead of them in high orbit. Even after seeing the same view a thousand times, Ryal’s breath was still taken away by the Collosus Class colony ship, half the size of some moons.

  Dragons had begun their space age exploration not long after they learned how to shape shift, and even though they were able to take any form they wished, their souls still remembered the glory of flight, and it showed in their architecture. Sweeping columns topped huge buildings that spread out in kilometers. Artificial canyons and bluffs shot upward, with caves where roosts could be made.

  Simon, whose central processor had been scavenged from those very canyons, dove into them, taking the tight looping curves at high speeds. Ryal and Clara whooped as they dove and spun, their tension momentarily forgotten. Behind them in a passenger seat Maggie squealed with glee.

  They slowed as they approached the Smith’s Spire, the main Perro clan hangar. Maggie oooooo’d as they came through the ether field and set down in a row of other ships.

  Ryal grabbed a can of black paint, their life long companion except on missions, where they kept their helmets on. She didn't say anything, just cocked an eyebrow at her sister. The only way to get through one of Clara's silent treatments was to make her talk first. Her sister huffed a sigh then spun to face her and let her lean in with a brush. Maggie looked on in fascination.

  Long, smooth strokes brushed down her sister's runes, turning gold into a “non death sentence” black and for a time they both lost themselves in the comfort of a task long since routine.

  “You should have told me he was also promising information about

  Golden Runes,” Clara murmured, and Ryal was struck by the hurt in her voice, “We agreed long ago, that whatever we discovered we would share.”

  Ryal’s brush paused in the middle of her sister’s back, then resumed, “I didn’t think you cared about that stuff anymore. I did not feel like arguing about it.” she stood up and handed the brush to Clara, “Persephone and Borus can do the rest- they will enjoy it more anyway.”

  Clara grunted and started on Ryal’s runes where they became visible through her hair. They continued in silence until, “I never cared about that stuff, but I care about you. I don’t want to see you throw your life away chasing answers that don't matter.”

  It was an effort not to jerk her head back to look her sister in the eye, “How do they not matter? Everyone wants to kill us. People we don't even know call us abomination. We may have an empire hunting us soon. And NOBODY knows why. In this empire, where beings live thousands of years and it's no big deal. Where all history is recorded. Nobody knows.”

  Clara sat back, “Finished. No one is going to tell you what you really want to know, Re. Nobody is going to tell you why they threw us out that air lock. Why she threw us out that airlock.

  Ryal grunted at the reference to their mother then stood up and left the ship.

  They stepped out of the hangar and into Beel Street, one of Gary’s main commerce areas. A riot of noise and color assaulted them, the sounds, sights, and smells of home. In an Empire that emphasized the importance of order and a strict adherence to society, places like Gary attracted the outcasts and freethinkers of the universe. Those that preferred to live on the fringes of society, and sometimes the law as well. They saw races of all types, from the Diads of the Lopis Astroid belt, with their almost translucent bodies and eyeless faces, or the more familiar looking half elves, who never really fit into any part of the Empire, being spurned by the species of both parents.

  Ryal laughed as a young Boorad, a simian race from the Hyposis system swung just above her and grabbed at her hair. It was a feint of course, and without looking she thrust an elbow backwards, into the head of the Boo’s partner who was going for pouch at her belt. The blow was not fatal, as she did not her armor on, but the young human girl would feel it in the morning. The two of them disappeared in the crowd and the sister’s shared an amused look.

  “I don’t know why you just don’t let them take the purse. You load it with dung anyway.” Clara said as they came to their father’s shop.

  “Principle” Ryal shouldered her way into the armory and past Zero-Zero, the droid that ran the shop. ZZ’s eyes lit up, “Mistresses! You’re home! The master will be most pleased” ZZ had been an imperial house droid once upon a time, “Mistress Ryal what have you done to your armor? And your leg seems to be malfunctioning as well. You have not been practicing your healing as you should” he had also been a tutor of some kind, and was always full of helpful advice.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Go easy on her, double Z,” Clara called over her shoulder as they went into the warehouse behind the shop, “She went into a combat situation and did not expect you know… combat.”

  “For the last time, there is no way that lady was a Naval Mage, and my healing skills are fine. A quick HR patch and this baby is good to go.”

  “And why would you need your healing skills? “ A deep voice yelled from above them as their father turned away from The Forge.

  Calling The Forge a forge was one of the most blatant lies in the universe. 6 stories tall with thousands of smelters and casting platforms, as well as workstations and modification stations, The forge was what made the Perro Clan one of the richest dwarven clans in the Empire.

  Apprentices and family scurried around Stonehand using chains and ramps and pulleys to navigate the colossal device. Clara had no idea how he could hear their conversation in the roar of activity.

  Stonehand grabbed a passing chain and swung to the walls closest to them, then slid down it using his prosthetic arm-made of machinery and electronics, not stone) to slow his descent. He took in Ryal’s leg and the armor she carried on her back then hugged them both. “What have you gotten yourselves into now?”

  Ryal waited until they had stepped into the relative quiet of a nearby lift and were headed down several levels to their father’s workshop to answer “Trouble” and then because she could feel Clara’s mock outrage, “Mostly my fault.”

  Stonehand grunted, “I told you not to tangle with the Empire. Even if it was a long forgotten prison ship on doom patrol.”

  “I’ve already heard it, Da. This one has been giving me an earful.”

  Her sister scoffed, “Lot of good it’s done. Don’t let her off the hook, Da. We are neck deep in it and our only option seems to be to trust the guy that put us there. Oh, and an Imperial Mage saw Ryal’s runes and for some reason is still breathing atmo.”

  Stonehand was middle-aged for a dwarf, just into his 3rd century, and his coal black hair was flecked with its share of grey. But he looked a lot older as he passed a hand over his face and sighed, “Well let's get you girls fixed up, then on your way. You’ll need to stay gone for a while. If the empire is hunting mercenaries, it won’t be long before they come here.” They walked into his workshop, “May, Ryal’s leg needs fixing” For some reason, his quiet acceptance of the situation only made Ryal feel worse than if he had joined Clara in her irritation.

  The workshop was also the Perro’s residence, where they had raised their family. The main space was dominated by the huge workbench that Stonehand walked to with her armor, but the rest of it her adopted sister’s domain. Marelle was Stonehand’s 3rd eldest daughter, the head of the family now that her older sisters had careers and their own families. She was also a very accomplished healer. She grinned at Ryal and sat her down. “ZZ told me that you ‘required additional instruction”.

  Her grin faded as she put her hands on Ryal’s not-quite-healed leg. “Hmmmmm, next time, if you don’t have the time, don’t try to heal it fully.” She took her belt knife out and looked up, “Ok shut it down.” Ryal nodded and turned her leg off in her brain.

  All of what she knew about her magic was trial and error. She and Clara never knew when they were going to “unlock” a special ability tied to their runes, or even if they were using them correctly. Their runes sometimes automatically activated in situations of extreme stress or emotion. Clara had “discovered” this particular skill during a moment of passion with one of her first lovers when they were adolescents. Ryal still teased her about having to run up to the roof of one of the spires, dress her, and haul her limp form back to their room before their father had discovered them.

  Later after they had learned more about body chemistry, biology, and science, it had been easier to define and understand their abilities. Now, for instance, Ryal knew that she had “turned off” all of the nerve endings in her leg. And so she was able to watch with detached interest as May sliced into the skin, muscle and bone, undoing the shoddy healing so that she could do a better job herself.

  May looked up after she was done cutting, “Are you watching?” she put a subtle emphasis on the last word, letting Ryal know she meant more than just looking. Ryal nodded and reached out with her senses, studying her sister as her leg was healed.

  Clara’s other two partners, Persephone and Borus, came in and rushed to Clara, hugging her and talking over each other, as usual.

  “Simon told us you have to leave soon.”

  “You’ve barely been back two seconds.”

  “And before that you were only back for two cycles.”

  “Now it’s going to be longer?”

  Clara hushed them with soothing tones and they walked back to their rooms. Usually they lived onboard Simon, since the 4 of them were all in a relationship, but he was being refueled and re-armed for the long trek they had ahead of them. Ryal scowled at their chattering backs, thankful that the one partner Clara had that liked Ryal was the one they spent the most time with.

  May smiled as she finished, “Ah, young love.”

  “You don’t share a wall with them. Those two talk ALL the time. ALL the time, May.”

  “You’re just jealous you don’t have 3 or even 4 people to talk your ear off.” May stood and put out a hand, which Ryal accepted.

  “Hmmpf as if. You know I like the quiet.” Ryal followed May over to the work bench, where Stonehand sat looking over her armor. “How bad is it?”

  “Bad. Come here, there is something I’ve been wanting to give you, and now is as good as time as any” he left the discarded armor and walked over to a locker, “The magic fried most of the suit’s circuits and fused some of your servos. Your runes are the only reason you were able to move in it at all- they were acting as the power source.” He typed in a code and the door swung open.

  A suit of armor hung inside, and it started to glow slightly as she approached. Ryal’s breath caught as a thrill ran across her skin. The suit in response, a soft gleam flickering across it, revealing detailed runes that had been etched into the surface.

  “During the Dragon war, human warriors fought in powered armor that was attuned to each rune they possessed. This made their armor a part of them, a second skin that they used in battle to terrible effect.”

  Ryal traced the runes with her fingers, knowing them for exact duplicates of her own. “How did you…”

  Her da smiled in pride, “Patience. I found a scrap of old armor decades ago, so knew it could be done. But those old suits had molds, like the molds that made your runes. I didn't have one so I had to adapt”

  He had done the whole thing by hand. Ryals runes were so intricate it was hard to know where one stopped and the other started. They covered every inch of her skin, until it was hard to see the flesh underneath. He must have spent decades on the effort. “It’s beautiful.”

  “My finest work” Stonehand lifted a hand to put it on her arm, “The next time you run into that mage, this will help balance the scales.”

  Ryal was almost giddy and she picked up the surprisingly light breastplate. “Oh I wouldn't worry about that, Da. I doubt i’ll ever see her again”