Mayor Slate was pacing the floor of the Stasis Chamber as the new colonists started to wake up. He’d taken a look at the newly activated pods and scrambled the team. To keep things under control he recruited Thrustar, Dr. Birchett, Gunmetal, several guards, Neesya, and Uncle Pyro.

  Because of his history with Pyro, Slate had reservations about bringing two Menagerie members. Max had convinced him that the two were well respected among the inmates. Neesya was well-liked among the community for her friendly and docile nature, and Pyro commanded respect. Neither took any shit from anyone.

  As confused colonists started to climb out of their sleeping pods, Dr. Birchett started scanning for injuries. The cryopods had preserved the fleeing prisoners exactly as they were, wounds an all. Some of these members had been caught in the fight, and several had sustained serious injuries. The good doctor and zir nurses attended to them, and thankfully found nothing life-threatening.

  This was the first batch that was worrying Slate. The past two rounds of inmates were mostly harmless, and the few dangerous ones were well-meaning weirdos. This lot was more or less the same, mostly white collar criminals. There were con artists, embezzlers, and even a few peaceful protesters that pissed off the wrong corporations. He noticed Xing Orobaras, an infamous hacker known as NyteH3ist, among the crowd. Slate could make good use of her skills now that they were building the administration hub.

  But this new batch had some real troublemakers. There were offenses ranging from armed robbery to physical assault. There were a few mercenaries and at least one nasty bounty hunter. Many of them Slate didn’t recognize at all, only knowing them from the news. Perhaps they had spent time in solitary confinement at the prison before becoming eligible for the colonization project. Slate had only been warden for a short time before volunteering for this mission, and didn’t have much time to fully acquaint himself with every prisoner.

  The real threat was standing to the back, ignoring any order to be lined up, and dusting himself off with the distaste of a dignitary. Viceroy Anton von Bitterling was an obese old Terran with thinning white hair and wrinkled, parchment thin skin. The ancient man was a cyborg, but the only purpose his implants served was to keep the decrepit old mummy alive. He was being attended by his favorite goon, a lithe wasp-like Hiver with the creative moniker of Styng. Bitterling was a high ranking Manti-C.O.R.E. officer and brilliant cybernetics engineer who was well known for his cruel experiments. He had eventually been caught and arrested for tax evasion.

  Worse than that, for some reason, the colony had released the Duke of Winter. Even after they had landed, Slate had thought it unwise to thaw out the Duke, and he had remained in stasis since being released to his custody.

  Duke Barnad Kholchek was a war criminal, the sole survivor of an infamous battle known as the Crimson Blizzard. He was the biggest Kreelux the Mayor had ever seen, tall enough to look most Astropods in the face. His fur and feathers were snowy white with blue highlights, looking like a polar bear with an owl’s head. The greasy mop of feathers obscured most of his face, a limp mustache framing his mouth. His black beak was chipped, his ears pierced with small gold hoops, and his amber eyes were bright with malice. Disheveled white fur covered his hulking frame, and his black claws were long and overgrown. Even the brass colored jetpack implanted in his back, while ornate and ostentatious, was badly dented.

  There were new guards as well, being supervised by Gunmetal. They were nervously trying to remove Kholchek's thick, high-density manacles without getting too close. Slate watched as the Duke grew impatient and casually snapped the inch thick chains with a strained grunt. He made short work of the restraints around his ankles and lumbered into line on bare paws.

  Max walked up to Slate and reported, "That's everyone. Junip is taking the two seriously injured colonists to the med bay. We're getting the rest lined up for orientation."

  Slate nodded, "How many woke up, again?"

  "Seventy-five," responded Max. “With ten new guards.”

  Slate continued his line of thinking, "So one of the inmates is our new colony leader?"

  "Let's hope it's not the Viceroy then," whispered Max. Louder, he ordered, "Finish lining up! Mayor Slate has some announcements to make."

  "Mayor?" The Viceroy's reedy voice laughed, "Did you give yourself a new title, Warden? Seems a bit of a step down if you ask me."

  "I didn't," the Mayor of Phoenix retorted, eliciting some chuckles from the assembly. "I was appointed by our new Director. Things have changed since you went to sleep. This is no longer a penal mining colony, and you are no longer prisoners. You are all now free citizens of Phoenix if you wish to be. You'll be asked to work, or at the least, not cause trouble for those who do. If you agree to these terms, you are all welcome to pursue your passions."

  "And what if we don't agree to those terms?"

  Slate looked at the speaker, a willowy Zylvaan. He had chipping patches of bark, a broken antler, and a jagged smile. He was known as Lynch, and he'd earned that nickname. One of the troublemakers. He smirked at Slate, daring him to answer.

  The Mayor shrugged and walked over, "Then you'll be given Biosuits, supplies, rations and sent away from the safety of the colony. What you do after that is your own business."

  "Oh, no!" Lynch held up his hands and pretended to shake in fear. He laughed, leaned over Slate and asked, "And what's stopping us from just taking over this place?"

  A shadow fell over Lynch, and the smug look dropped. A black beak whispered in his ear. "Me," growled the Duke of Winter, his voice like the crack of ice just before an avalanche.

  Lynch quickly calculated his odds, sweating dark red sap. "I think I will take you up on that offer to leave now, Mr. Mayor, sir."

  "I thought so." Slate pointed to Gunmetal. "Anyone else who would like to leave, see Mr. Gunmetal. He will help you obtain supplies and show you the way out. Do not make trouble for him it will end badly for you. This I can promise."

  "As will I," Duke leaned back, the threat hanging in the air like a chilly fog.

  Predictably, five more troublemakers went with Lynch. The Viceroy cast a thin-lipped sneer at Slate and then followed as well, Styng right behind him. There were audible sighs of relief as they left. You could almost hear the sphincters unclench.

  After the defectors filed out, Slate nodded at Kholchek. "Thanks for the assist."

  "I did not do it for you." Like the rest of him, the Duke's voice was strong. There was a thick Highland Kreeluxian brogue to his voice. "I did not want those weaklings in my city."

  "Your city?" Slate asked, voice flat. "And how do you figure that?"

  The ghostly white soldier stood to his full impressive height, "I will take over in the ways of my people. By Rite of Combat. Bring me your strongest warrior."

  Mayor Slate shot Max an incredulous look. Max shrugged and then took a step back as a curved claw jabbed the air inches from his face.

  "Fight me, Thrustar!" Kholchek demanded, "Your reputation precedes you, but by my ancestors, I shall snap you like a frozen twig!"

  Max gave the dirty paw a disgusted look and pushed it away without concern. The finger slowly rotated back to point at him. Max protested, "I'm flattered, but I'm not the strongest. Even if I was, I'm injured."

  Not one to be discouraged, the Duke scanned the room. Sizing everyone up, he nodded at Neesya and assumed a fighting stance. "You then! Surely, you are this pitiful city's greatest warrior! En-garde!"

  Several of the veteran guards started to laugh, much to the horror of the new recruits. The nervousness of the recently freed prisoners also dissolved into bemused amusement during this interaction.

  Slate frowned. Max Thrustar certainly used to be their strongest fighter, with the possible exception of Dr. Birchett. The Duke of Winter was a legendary Crusader as well as an actual royal, if a disgraced one. He was once a respected knight and beloved ruler. Now people were laughing at him! Kholchek’s posture lost some of its bravo as the unfamiliar mockery. The Duke’s stance slackened more as Neesya smiled enigmatically and shook her head.

  Slate sighed the sigh of the long suffering civil servant, "Neesya is not the strongest, either. If you're going to insist on this idiocy, then I'll take you to the Director. We were trying to get him to rest, but I'm sure we could convince him to fight you."

  The awakened colonists followed the Mayor to first floor of the new underground bunker located directly below the base. It expanded quite a bit, and the main street was filled with a variety of new stores. Some of them sold goods such as clothing and accessories, and some of them were made with raw materials from smaller personal replicators.

  Others sold food, snacks, and treats. These included cultural dishes that were difficult to print in the replicators. Replicators could produce the ingredients, which were then prepared with new cooking appliances salvaged from the Org city below. With the addition of microraptor eggs and the prospect of batteram milk, the shops were abuzz with the possibilities. There was even baklava and sweet bread made at a Hiver run bakery. No one asked where he had obtained the honey used in his cooking.

  The side street contained a burgeoning farmer's market. There were smaller, transportable booths here, containing a variety of things. There were booths with small wooden carvings, paintings and makeshift jewelry. Some were filled with vegetables from the greenhouses, which had expanded considerably. There was already talk of building small in-home spaces for personal gardens. There was even a black and white striped Jo'Qin mime busking for trinkets and treats. There were even animals running about.

  Battersheep were clipping grass with their teeth, munching lazily. But here and there, one could witness a purple glob of goop splat out from behind them, one of the glowing cylinders emptying slightly. Where the gel fell, it soaked into the parched soil, darkening the gritty dirt. The darker lawns were starting to grow purple grass in places, the ewes fertilizing the ground. Despite the animals’ best efforts, the grass was still coming in patchy and dry in places.

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  Multi-colored micro raptors also scurried about, flying to perch on fence posts or fighting with each other. When a crowd of them started to get too rowdy, a cyworg pup would bark at them and scatter the dumb danger chickens away. This usually elicited a head scratch or belly rub from the citizen the puppies protected.

  The community was bustling and peaceful. This more than anything reassured the nervous new colonists. There was already chatting about the kinds of activities or jobs they wanted to do. Some muttered darkly as to how badly things would change if the Duke took over.

  Mayor Slate greeted a few passers by, shaking hands and listening to a few requests as they walked. He also asked around as to where Orion had gotten to. None had seen him until a comically buxom Jo'Qin baker pointed him toward Bite Rock. The boulder was large enough to penetrate the roof and bury itself in the basement floor. In the distance, Aries could be clearly seen smashing his head against the boulders, with a hole dug into the stone nearby.

  "Mining again," Max commented.

  Slate sighed, "I shouldn't be surprised. It seems to be his go-to activity during his downtime. Come along! Let's get this over with."

  As the impromptu parade moved toward the large rock formation, others started to fall in. They were starting to garner a lot of attention. Everyone in the colony had heard of Duke Kholchek, but no one had ever seen him until now. For his part, the Duke carried himself like a returning hero, back straight and head held high.

  When the citizens of Phoenix learned that a duel was on the horizon, runners ran back to town to alert people of the impending battle. By the time Slate got close enough to give Aries a friendly pat, nearly the entire colony had filed in behind them.

  Slate walked up to the hole. It was a small tunnel big enough to drive a hovercar through, but not much bigger. The ringing clash of metal on stone echoed down the darkened cavern, and each strike kicked up a spark that illuminated a tall figure at the other end.

  "Orion? I hate to bother you!" Slate shouted, "there's something you need to take care of!"

  The clangs continued. Slate shook his head and stepped into the darkness. He shouted louder, "Orion!"

  The ringing stopped, and Slate continued. "Someone has just issued you a challenge for the right to rule over Phoenix."

  There was a pregnant pause. Then, incredulously, Orion asked, "You're fucking kidding, right?"

  Kholchek must have realized this was the Director stepped forward. He bellowed into the hole, "Face me, coward! As Duke of Brvadia, I challenge you to lead this colony by Rite of Combat!"

  The steady clump click, clump click of Orion's footsteps echoed down the inky tunnel. Slow, steady, and in no rush. As the light struck the Org, dressed simply in a sweaty white tank top and coveralls tied at the waist, several of the crowd gasped. Even the Duke took a surprised step back as a warrior from a supposedly extinct species exited the hole. Orion slipped his headphones down around his neck and slung his new pickax over his shoulder. He eyed the newcomers with a raised eyebrow. Aries walked up next to Orion and nudged him for attention,

  to which he laughingly obliged.

  Orion relaxed and greeted the newcomers. "Welcome to Phoenix, everyone! Sorry about my appearance, I was just letting off some steam. I hadn't planned on greeting you tonight."

  The Duke sneered, "This is my opponent? Some filthy peasant ditch digger? This one-legged, scrawny wisp of a woman?"

  Orion put his free hand on his hip, "I'm a man, baby."

  "Apologies," Kholchek said contritely. The bravado returned to his voice, "This scrawny wisp of a man? I shall break you and then rule this 'Phoenix' with an iron paw!"

  Orion glanced at Slate. "Is this guy serious?"

  "I'm afraid so," the Mayor confirmed.

  Orion waved a hand at the bedraggled Kreelux, "Great. Look, I don't wanna kill the poor guy. He just woke up!"

  "Ha, Kill me? It is to laugh." Kholchek scoffed.

  The smile started to fade as actual chuckling happened behind him. He turned to glare at the crowd, the new members backing up. But the veteran colonists were actually placing bets on the fight. The royal crusader did not have good odds, few wanted to bet against Orion.

  "Oh, don't worry about that," Slate reassured him. "There are protections in place during a duel to prevent unexpected deaths. We can build an arena. During duels, when someone drops to one health point they teleport out of the danger zone."

  “Like how my partners teleport back to the stables instead of dying. Rad.” Orion lowered his pick, "this is still ridiculous. I'm not fighting some random dude for control of Phoenix. If you're not going to follow the rules, then you're out, pal. Sheriff, get this lunatic out of my city."

  Max blinked and looked around. He pointed to himself questioningly.

  Orion beamed, "Yeah! It was the Doc's idea. Has a nice ring to it. We'll make it official when you get back from kicking this douchebag out."

  Orion turned and walked back into the hole in Bite Rock.

  Sheriff Thrustar puffed himself up with pride. “Sheriff, eh? I liked that.”

  To the Duke he commanded, "You heard the Director. Duke Barnad Kholchek, you are hereby banished from Phoe-"

  "If you don't make me leader, you'd best kill me right now. If you do not, I will see this colony razed to the ground and every living creature in it slaughtered." Kholchek's voice was deadly calm. "And when I'm finished wiping the blood from my claws, I will turn off life support to the Stasis Chamber so none will be left to oppose me."

  The guards slowly raised their weapons and surrounded the Duke. As one, the rest of the colonists backed up save for the members of the Menagerie. Pyro produced a flame thrower Random pulled out four knives, Neesya's fists clenched, and even Prof Queebeax pulled out some crazy-looking raygun. Even Aries turned to Kholchek and pawed the ground menacingly.

  The sound had stopped from within the tunnel. After a long pause, the uneven footsteps started getting closer again. Kholchek gave a haughty smile as Orion reemerged and walked right up to his face, jutting his chin out.

  "Fine. Do you want a fight that bad? You got one." Orion growled through clenched tusks.

  Slate stepped between them and pushed the two combatants apart, "Not right now. It's late, we need to finish orientation, and set up a place for you two to fight without leveling the city."

  Duke Kholchek folded his arms, "See? Even your fake Mayor recognizes my strength."

  Slate shook his head, "I wasn't talking about you."

  The following day was spent securing the courtyard for Sanday. Any stray animals were brought inside, projects were covered, and the hangars locked up. The sky was just starting to darken when the rig workers were walking up. Orion spent time chatting with them and getting an update on the progress of the reconstruction. Things were going well, and they were starting to get the wiring working. They were going to use the day off to try and recruit some new workers among the recently released colonists.

  As the first few gritty breezes started, Apus returned from his patrol and landed on his shoulder. "Sir, I think you should see this."

  Orion glanced up and turned to look where the Phoenix was pointing. There was movement in the covered awning above the stairs leading to the underground city. Orion excused himself and told the miners to get inside. He walked over towards the staircase, wondering if one of the career thieves had snuck out to the city. A few of them had taken to doing fetch quests for the citizens of Phoenix, grabbing materials from homes or fruits from the underground zoo. The zoo was at least a day and a half walk via the roofs. If someone had miscalculated the distance, they could be trapped out there all day. There were camps along the stairwell along with supply chests, but it wouldn't be the most comfortable.

  When he turned the corner, he gave a surprised, "Shit!"

  A Cy-Org had wandered up the stairs to the surface. Orion whipped out his rifle and took aim. He was looking down the scope when he noticed the broom-bristle mustache.

  Orion lowered the gun, "The janitor?"

  Sure enough, the custodian Cy-Org had somehow climbed the stairs with his foot still lodged in the yellow bucket. He was mopping up more of the footprints in the tiled walkway leading down to the stairs. When he finally spotted the Org, the janitor reached out and made grabby motions with the hand not clutching the mop. When Orion backed away, the mustachioed robot waved him away with a disgusted "Mraah" noise before continuing to mop. He seemed particularly frustrated because there was no water left in the bucket, and the dry mop head wasn't removing the stains.

  The wind picked up around him, and Orion glanced toward the west. The dust tsunami was visible now, a dark blotch in the distance. Orion bounced nervously, looking at the janitor indecisively. He glanced at the storm, the janitor, the base, the janitor and back to the storm.

  Apus preened himself, "Just rescue him. You know you're going to."

  "Aah! Fuck it!" Orion picked the janitor up and lifted the robot over his head. He made a full sprint back to the base, his enhanced endurance allowing him to run without getting tired. The custodian struggled weakly, making Orion swerve a bit to maintain balance, but within minutes, he managed to make it to the base.

  Once inside the decontamination chamber, he set the janitor down. As the room started to clear the toxic particles from their bodies, Orion ordered Apus to do one last sweep of the surface to make sure no one was still above ground. Once alone the doors opened, and Orion stepped into the base. Slate was there with the Rig mechanics.

  He looked up as he saw Orion. "Ah, there you are, we were getting worried." Slate pointed behind the Director, "What the hell is that?"

  Orion glanced to the side and stepped in front of the janitor, "Nothing."

  Slate pinched the bridge of his nose, "Orion, you can't keep adopting every stray you see. For one thing, the Cy-Orgs can't survive in our atmosphere. Just look, he's rusting already."

  Orion's head whipped around and saw that it was true. The rusted metal on the janitor's bucket leg was starting to spread, and new patches were already beginning to form. The custodian lurched forward, moaning with arms outstretched.

  Orion unceremoniously pushed the Cy-Org into the airlock and shut the door, the robot rolling back and then falling over in a tangle of limbs. Orion closed the door as the custodian tried to clumsily regain his footing. He adjusted the atmosphere inside the airlock to match that of the surface of the planet and the rust immediately stopped spreading.

  Orion spun around and leaned against the door, striking a nonchalant pose. "What Cy-Org?" Slate raised an eye ridge, and Orion caved.

  "Okay, yes, I did bring him here. But look, I couldn't just leave him out there! The worst he's ever done is mop and make half-hearted grabs for us," protested Orion. "Besides, wouldn't it be beneficial to have a non-threatening Cy-Org on hand to study? Maybe the Professor could isolate the virus and figure out what to expect from long-term exposure. Maybe even create a cure?"

  Slate opened his mouth to argue, closed it, and opened it again. Finally he conceded the point, "Fine, but we'll need to figure out safe containment methods. Later. You have a fight to determine the future leader of Phoenix."

  The Rig workers stopped putting their tools away and looked up, concerned. While they questioned Slate, Orion groaned, "Oh, my god! Is he still on that?"

  "Yes. And if we don't get down there, who knows what stunt he'll try to pull." Slate turned to finish locking the decontamination doors.

  Apus poofed onto Orion's shoulder, "Surface is clear, mon capitaine."

  "All right," grumbled Orion. "Let's get this dick-measuring contest over with, I guess."