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Moving up the scheduled launch so that the dragon knight could witness it and report back our intentions meant I spent the rest of the evening with Promethius getting the next rocket ready by making sure the self-contained habitation module was ready for space.

Back at NuEarth, my engineering focus was in closed-loop systems, maximizing efficiency and minimizing waste to extend the longevity of astronauts. The first piloted module was going to be the start of Tribe Apollo's space station, and from there we would add compartmentalized modules and begin sending equipment to Raphina's surface.

The morning of the launch, I ensured safety interlocks were in place on the booster ignition console this time. Especially while Promo and I worked together on the rocket. It took most of the morning and into the afternoon to finish up with the prep-work to make sure the dozen (plus stowaways) goblins going up could survive long enough to get resupplied with the next module launch. By the time we climbed down, the eclipse was already overhead and I spotted a familiar palanquin in the launch area waiting for me.

I dropped off the top of the rocket and free-fell down to the ground where Cla'thn had already had her sleeves drawn back for a conversation.

"King Apollo, my elites tell me you intend to return the dragon to the humans at Habberport."

"That's accurate," I said.

The air filled with a distressed buzz that I took for an expression of Midnighter worry. "This is ill-advised. Yesterday's incursion was but a scout and probe of our defenses. Our show of force will hold them not long. They have more landed dragons. Many more."

"And we have jets with magic-seeking missiles," I said. "The dragons might be tough, but they're not as bad as the null devil.

"The humans are a threat to your purpose, and ought be handled with consummate severity."

I rubbed my greasy hands off on my fur. "Saw that in the stars, did you?" I asked.

"We saw the buildup of martial power, reflected in the sky as it would cross the sea. And yes, it came to pass as we predicted—as all things do."

I pursed my lips. "Returning the dragon to the humans is a show of good faith. It's the best shot Tribe Apollo has at opening a dialogue instead of a warfront. I won't endorse a martial response that will cost goblin—or human—lives, except as a last resort. Did you predict yesterday's attack? Or its outcome? Can you say for certain whether this entreaty ends in war or a truce?"

Cla'thn shifted uncomfortably. "You know well that we cannot read the stars shaded by Raphina."

"Things you can't predict can't come to pass as you predict them," I countered. "If you're jumping at the answer, it's little better than a knee-jerk response."

Cla'thn flicked her arms, drawing back her robe's sleeves near to her elbows. Several of her attendants stepped back in alarm, and I stiffened. Was this their version of a shouting match?

"The Queen and the First have read the stars for centuries. They have long learned to recognize the patterns cast across them, where history rhymes and reflections of past and future overlap. Discount not their wisdom, King Apollo. You are vital to the survival of this world. The humans of Habbe are not. Your attempts to make peace are the fruit of a barren tree."

"Funny thing about goblins and other-worlders," I said, "When it comes to the predictability of patterns and forecasts. They throw a spanner into the works."

"This is the very reason you are here, King Apollo: to do the impossible, what no one on this world could. The queen will not allow your program to come to harm."

I cocked my head. "For a declaration of protection, that sounds an awful lot like a threat," I said.

Cla'thn held her hands parallel to the ground, and her attendants approached in order to carefully fold her silk sleeves over the delicate hairs on her carapace. Apparently the conversation was over.

I sniffed. "Have it your way," I said. "I've got a launch to take care of."

I stalked off with Armstrong and Promo in tow. We headed to the observation area on a lower level of the pyramid where Dame Redfang lounged on the stones still radiating heat from baking in the morning sun. Her pocket mage sat beside her, staring off into space. Now that I got a closer look at him without his helmet, he was human… but maybe not my human. I could see subtle differences—the shape of the face was different, the iris was too pale, the ears too far back. Maybe he was slightly different because he was a mage or had some cross-breeding with another species here. Or maybe convergent biology had seen fit to produce just a bipedal facsimile of Earthlings on Rava. It was an efficient and effective form factor for an apex social primate, after all.

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"We'll be getting underway, soon," I said. I pointed at the rocket where a pair of wranglers, a pair of scrappers, a sparker, an ignis, and six forest goblins scrambled up the side of the rocket. "Our first astronauts. They'll be going up into space—though the rocket is still primarily controlled from the ground via radio."

Redfang's neck stretched to follow them up. "They ride into the upper stretches of the sky—past the point of the air thinning beyond breath or beat of wing. How?"

I sat back onto the stone. To either side, hundreds of goblins sat, lounged, or fought for the best seats for the launch. Several tried to approach Redfang, but a snarl sent them away. Several had cozied up to the mage, who seemed not to realize they were there. Though he did briefly look at my prosthetic legs with the most curiosity I'd seen yet.

"We have air compressors," I said. "It's a device to force a wide space's worth of air into a small bottle and traps it there for later. We let out a little at a time to breathe. Today's mission is about staging breathable air into orbit."

"Curious," she said. "How heavy are these bottles? Could I take one with my to climb above the clouds?"

"Your upper limit would still be determined by how much lift your wings can produce," I said. "Which, unless it's just magic, would depend on an amount of air density. But yes, you could probably fly higher and it would feel as though you were breathing air as dense as sea level."

I opened my pack and pulled out the small portable radio with its bulky battery pack and tuned it to the chaos of Harris trying to wrangle a rowdy mission control center.

"Do you not wish to direct this endeavor yourself?" asked Redfang.

"More than almost anything," I said. "I'm a bit of a control freak. But when I go up there…" I jutted my chin towards Raphina hanging overhead, "…I won't also be able to run mission control. I need to know my sparker taskmaster can handle a launch on his own."

A warning blared out on the bluff-wide big voice, and the goblins below started to clear the launch pit, pulling back fuel trucks and scattering with hastily packed tool bags. Goblins might not have long memories, but they at least recalled what had happened on the last launch. The squawking ruckus on the repeater might have sounded random, but Harris was going down the canonized pre-launch sequence, just as I'd shown him.

"Not long, now," I said. Overhead, the aircraft circling the bluff dispersed as well. I pulled a pair of rubber plugs from my pack and put them into my ears. The big-voice started to count down as well. The goblins in the command module closed the hatch, and the gantry rolled back.

Harris reached the end of his litany and launched into a countdown. Below, the last of the goblins cleared the area. I was glad we wouldn't have a repeat of 100+ flash-fried goblins.

Finally, my taskmaster called for primary ignition. A bright yellow flare illuminated the length of the rocket. A moment later, the rumble reached us. The sound of the steady-state combustion resonated deep in my chest and gut and vibrated through the stones beneath my fingers. The monolithic rocket shifted and then began to rise from the ground as steam and dust spread from the immense downward force.

"Linear fire," the mage commented. His eyes were fixed on the rocket. "Parabolic acceleration."

I glanced to him, and then over to Dame Redfang.

"Ignore him," she shouted over the roar of the rocket, her own eyes glued to the upward progress of the rocket. "Geometries and odd mathema are about all you'll get out of a battle mage. You say this rockit has no magic?"

"None whatsoever," I said. "Just Goblin Tech Tree physics."

The rocket climbed up and away, accelerating on its column of fire until it became just a bright flare in the sky pushing a very tiny speck. It tilted, beginning to angle slightly for its entry into orbit. I couldn't see the boosters detach at this distance, but I could see where the flare cut off and the first stage separated before the second stage motor kicked in.

"How long does it take to reach the stars?" asked Redfang.

"Low orbit take take as little as 10-12 minutes," I said. "Geostationary, maybe 20-30. Raphina? 2-3 days." I rubbed my chin. "The nearest star? Ten or twenty years."

Home? I added silently. Who knows?

But if we were still in my universe, it was likely so far beyond reach that it might as well be in another dimension anyway.

Dame Redfang watched the pillar of rocket smoke drift away. "The greatest human wizards might fly as high and as fast as a great dragon, but they do not brush the stars, they do not bottle the air, and those who have boasted they would walk Raphina's surface have never returned."

Well, that last part might have something to do with the number of magic devouring null devils waiting for them on Raphina's surface. But I didn't mention that part.

I kept listening to the radio. With our satellite in the sky already, we now had a better line-of-sight relay, and we were able to track the position of the orbital module all the way up to achieving its stable orbit.

I breathed a sigh of relief. At Redfang's look, I explained. "Low orbit is a delicate dance. Rava is still pulling at us, we have to be at a precise altitude and precise speed in order to not either fall back to the ground or put us in an unstable orbit.

"The navigation for these rockets is quite precise, then," she said.

"As long as everything goes correctly."

"The lords of Habberport were convinced that the boost'ems were a weapon of attack," said Dame Redfang. She shook her serpentine head. "But they were mere empty, cast-off waste, to you. You have launched several of these, yes?"

"That's right. A few smaller test rockets and now our second orbital."

"It occurs to me that, had you wished it, any one of these rockets could have been made to fall upon a city with most of its fire yet unburnt. It would result in more than a simple collapsed tower, I should think. I daresay it would end your problems with the prince."

"What you're talking about is a technology called a ballistic missile. And it's something I would never, ever, point at a city, human or otherwise. Come on," I said, climbing to my feet. "Let's get you back to Habberport."

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