<Your tribe has increased to 10,240 members>

A flurry of activity consumed the following weeks. Resources poured in from the City of Brass in the south, Midnighters sent even more through Habberport in the northwest, and the orcs to the east continued sending refined materials from the null devil and its nymphs. The tribe numbering in the five figures meant we produced enough fuel for a launch every 3-4 days and the transitory station in orbit had grown to such size that you could see it with a simple spyglass.

I'd actually had the System put a cap on new goblins spawning in order to keep us just at attrition replacement numbers instead of having the population balloon out of control. The 30,000 strong goblin pestilence that had swept Habbe had done so because the goblins outgrew their own local resources. I wasn't about to let the same thing happen here. We had what we needed.

"Hold still, boss," said Javier, the chief of my clothiers. Rather than airship envelopes, plate carriers, and nets, his crew of needlers were putting the finishing touches on my and Armstrong's space suits—which I was pretty sure was supposed to happen before we put them on.

I fidgeted with the tight suit, unused to the feeling of clothes against my skin after running around for months in nothing but loose leather wraps and the occasional poncho or plate carrier. Javier checked it again, oddly thorough for a goblin. But then this was his king's space suit and if it ruptured during an orbital EVA, eventually he would be on the chopping block. It was a combination of materials from all over Lanclova: air-tight null-devil leather that could withstand the vacuum of space, orc rubber gaskets, brass fittings from the Ifrit city, and even heat-resistant dragon scales from the rookery at Habberport—shed, mind you, not taken by force.

It seemed like half the tribe had found their way to Canaveral under the loosest pretext or no pretext at all. The bluff swarmed with a sea of blue and green fur jostling for position and, in many cases, pushing each other off the edge of the bluff in what probably looked from the outside like a very fuzzy waterfall. But it wasn't just goblins who had turned out.

Dozens of Ifrit hovered above the crowd in coaxial vessels. Orcs of the Flock and Dawn's light watched from the side of the Midnighter pyramid, and even a squad of Dame Redfang's landed dragons perched at the pinnacle, eager to see this artifice that could fly higher and swifter than a dragon with no magic at all. The prep area was being kept mostly clear, aside from the VIP section that had been cordoned off for my guests of honor. Once fitted, I waddled my way over to them.

"I don't know if I'll see any of you again," I said. "Even if I succeed up there, I don't know what will happen."

Dame Redfang snorted a puff of smoke. "There are yet trees and ore and sand upon Raphina, yes? I've watched this tribe only a short time, but I've no doubt that given two sticks, a sharp stone, and a vein of copper that you could find your way back before the solstice festival."

I reached out and put a hand on the scales of her foreleg. She huffed and looked away, tail thrashing.

Sourtooth and Lura waited next to her. Lura grinned down at me. "If return was your intent, the Stampede marches on, little brother king. Find us by the trail of dust in the east. But sights of yours are set on besting my glory and more, these Midnighters tell me. Beliabog, brother mine. You go to trample not just the ground beneath your feet, but the stars, as well."

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I laughed. "Lura, I owe you so much and more. Of the time I've spent on Rava, the time I spent with the orcs on the badlands is what I'll look back on as the best of it."

Sourtooth stood next to her, scowling down at me. He spat on the ground. "Not one, I, for lengthy partings. Get ye on your way, little brother."

The quiver in his voice betrayed his true feelings. I tapped the side of his prosthetic. "Take good care of this. If it needs replaced, my igni will see to it."

Sourtooth's scowl deepened further, "Aye, little brother. Be your feet upon this world or any other, count yourself a part of the Flock, through and true."

Next to him, stood a person my equal in stature. Ringo stood, still unsteady on his own prosthetics. No longer needing to be carried by boglins, he was learning to stand on his own. George stood next to him, slightly smaller and eying me warily.

"I wish I could go with you," he said, sniffing. "I don't want you to go."

"A slight betrayal," muttered George. He glanced up between me and Ringo. "But we ought forgive it, this time," he said.

Ringo nodded, and then surged forward to wrap me in a hug.

"You're not alone, anymore," I said. "I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you're safe. Look after the boglins. They still rely on you."

I managed to pry Ringo off and turned to my minister of trade. Rufus looked down at me, openly dabbing at his eyes with a cloth.

"Rufus, you were the first friend I made on this world. If not for you, I doubt I would have lasted a month—let alone be heading for the moon in less than a year. Take care of yourself."

"You believe you're speaking the truth," he said. "But I doubt much on this planet could have stopped you, Apollo. The Great Spirit chose its champion well."

I was the one to pull the half-badger down into a fierce bear hug. He was half again as tall as me and covered in a coarse pelt. When he squeezed me back, I thought my head might pop off.

"I shall miss you, King Apollo. Rava will be worse for your absence. But you go to be clad not in sky or earth, but in stars."

I pulled back. "You have it?"

Rufus produced his journal and nodded. "Knowledge of your world's medicines and artifice—food preservatives, construction, mathematics, automation, and electricity. To be shared and spread for the betterment of all those bereft of magic. This learning will be your legacy upon Rava."

"Good," I said. I hesitated. "You know, there's still time to get you fitted for a space suit if you want to come with us."

What little skin showed through the badger fur blanched. "I prefer to keep the stars in the sky where they belong, o' king."

I laughed. "That's what I figured."

"Boss, boss!"

I looked over, where Eileen was running up to me. "Our launch window, boss!"

I nodded and took one last look at my friends—from my first days on Rava to those I'd known bare weeks. "I guess it's time to go," I said. I raised my hand in salute and took my helmet from Javier. "You'll know I succeeded if the moon doesn't blow up."

Armstrong and I followed Eileen from the prep area to the launch pit where, despite all insistences, the igni were still welding concurrently with the fuelers shoveling goblin scat infused with bomb-fruit juice into the boosters. I shook my head. Goblins would ever be goblins. And I never would have gotten this far without them.

Chuck waited for us on the gantry lift next to Buzz, Sally, Chuck, and Neil. Armstrong, Sally, and I joined them. My OG taskmaster crew, together and looking almost like proper astronauts. I'm sure I was grinning so wide that it was a miracle the top of my head stayed on.

"Alright, guys. Everything we've worked for, every day, since the beginning. It's all been for this. For today. And I can't begin to say how proud I am of my crack team, and every one of your teams for making it possible. It's been nothing short of miracle after miracle." I looked at each of their faces in turn. "Think you can help me to make one more?"

Rather than answering, my taskmasters, as one, surged forward, cackling and cheering, and hoisted me up into the air for all the bluff to see. The lift started to raise as well, and the thousands of goblins on Canaveral went nuts. Cheers and squawks and a roiling sea of blue, furry goblins jumping with excitement and crowding each other so tightly that more continued to spill over the edges of the bluff every second, and the lifts bringing them back up were overloaded.

It was time.

I'm coming, System. Ad Luna.

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