“I wanted to bite Sylvie in the side because I lost at cards,” Gosha said, his gaze fixed on her. “My mouth watered with anticipation. But I didn’t.”

  “Why the hell should I know about this?” Sylvie blurted out, standing nearby.

  Ruda rested her chin in her hands, examining her students, trying to come up with a solution to this unusual problem. A spirited atmosphere permeated the ship. The foundlings, now settled in, immediately integrated the rescued children into the general rhythm of the passengers’ lives. Jake told her about the strange gathering in the restroom, but she decided not to pry into the affairs of friends brought together by fate.

  What she wasn’t about to tolerate was open disobedience. Sylvie and Rustam brazenly slipped out of the sleeping compartment, approaching the cooks with a daring idea. The soldiers assigned to watch the children dared not report the incident to her, and it was only late at night, while checking to see if Rustam needed bandages or painkillers, that she discovered the entire gang of young charges celebrating their release in the hospital bay.

  Praise be the Planet, the head chef hadn’t given the brats any alcohol. But the last of the soda flowed freely as patients of all ages played cards together. The room smelled of grilled steaks eaten with unwashed hands. One of the rascals figured out how to create a semblance of a blazing fire by turning off the lights and piling up flashlights, switching them to low power. The sight of a microwaved, dripping chicken flying across the beds and splattering on Tsereg’s face triggered a nervous tic in Ruda, partly due to her older sister syndrome. Damned Butylin burst into laughter, assuring her that the magister had authorized a nighttime gathering to boost morale among the civilians.

  A red haze clouded her vision, while the familiar thought pounded in her temples: Disorder! The younger ones aren’t weary enough! They’ll be misbehaving!

  After sending the children to their beds, Ruda wrote a report declaring that such a breach in discipline in a military zone was unacceptable. That morning, she resumed regular classes, channeling the excited teenagers’ frenzied energy into physical exercise, followed by cleaning up the chaos caused yesterday and bandaging the sick under the supervision of medical personnel.

  It was then that she noticed Gosha swallowing convulsively as he discarded bloody bandages.

  Later, Ruda recounted the general history of the Oathtakers’ formation, outlining in general terms how the heroic episode of reversing the desertification had unfolded. Aside from Rustam’s stubborn insistence on attending class, the lesson proceeded without the slightest hitch. Unni even asked Ney to help her master reading, clearly hurt by her lagging behind Grisha. The gallant knight deftly redirected the girl to the village teacher, evading the responsibility. After the lesson, Gosha asked Sylvie and Ruda to stay, saying he needed to confess his disgusting thoughts.

  Waving the matter aside wasn’t an option. The lack of pupils and his bony hide made it difficult to discern Gosha’s emotions, but his clasped hands betrayed how terrifying this impulse was for the Malformed.

  Magister. Butylin. May the Planet forgive me for such blasphemy, but you are idiots. Both knew about the need for priests or specialists to work with wild Abnormals for their successful socialization. Wait a second. Priests!

  “Gosha, the scriptures mention temptations that tempt us to sin,” Ruda said. “Why would they warn about them if the righteous are immune to them? You’re a nice guy.” She patted his rock-hard head, feeling no warmth from his body. But inside that shell was a frightened child, judging himself too harshly. He needed a knowledgeable psychologist to help him overcome his problems. But for now, Gosha only had her. “Instincts and feelings are natural. I experience a surge of hormones every six months that makes me want to mate immediately. During this period, I’m haunted by a wild itch, along with a pounding heart, pushing me toward the nearest man.”

  “Why do I need this unnecessary information?” Sylvie rolled her eyes.

  “But I’m stronger than base desires,” Ruda continued, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “They don’t rule me, and for the last couple of years, I haven’t even noticed how this shameful affliction of mine has faded. You also show your instincts who’s boss here, not giving in to their provocations. I don’t notice your teeth marks on anyone, do you?”

  “Thanks, I guess,” Gosha said thoughtfully, unclenching his fists. “Sylvie, I’ll understand if you...”

  “Stop! I’m overdosing on cringe.” The girl waved her hands. “Yes, I admit, you gave me the creeps at first. Don’t blame me; you saw your maw in the mirror; I could fit in there entirely. But now I feel safe when you’re around, so throw away all unnecessary excuses and hop-hop to the workshop to earn crests. And take Unni with you,” Sylvie added. “She terrorized me with questions about your preferences... in cooking,” she finished ingratiatingly.

  “Just no funny business until you reach adulthood.” Ruda narrowed her eyes to slits.

  “What could you be talking about, Teacher?” both scoundrels asked simultaneously.

  Let’s be honest. Will I be able to stop them? No. So why worry? Ruda escorted both students outside, leaving the attendants to gather their textbooks. She herself hadn’t slept a wink that night and had no intention of sleeping until her return. This wasn’t much of a hindrance; during her training as a novice, she often endured fifteen sleepless nights, testing her endurance. Ruda intended to spend this evening outside the children’s section, preparing materials for tomorrow morning and stopping any attempts by the weirdos to commit pranks.

  On the other hand, it’s not bad that they are integrating into civilization. Ruda wrapped her arms around the waiting Ney and kissed him. Together, they proceeded to the medical bay, letting Farrin hurry past, zipping up her jumpsuit as she went. The former bandit calmly navigated the ship, leading three other raiders to the hangar on the lower level. Security calmly confirmed that they would be joining Chernogor’s reconnaissance team.

  A nurse admitted the crusaders to the patients recovering from critical conditions. Most of them were peacefully dozing, induced into a coma to ease the burden on the staff. They were housed in capsules nestled in the wall cavities, safely protected from any sudden shock. Only the white droplets of condensation from their breath and the data from the displays confirmed the sleepers were still alive.

  But one capsule hung in the center of the room. In a cavity filled with a bluish liquid, separated by a transparent screen, floated the charred body of Yeshua. His injured leg had been amputated; wires and tubes connected the young sariant to the artificial organs installed outside, keeping his insides functioning. The recently left ugly stitches zigzagged across his skin, and the assembly apparatus hanging over the capsule further disfigured him. All that was left of his hair were a few burnt clumps. A strip of metal was visible in the cut where a vaporized piece of Yeshua's skull had been replaced.

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  Multi-fingered, flexible manipulators entered the capsule from the back and top, cutting away pieces of skin, shortening protruding bones, and grafting nerves to electrical cables connecting the flesh to the heavy mechanical arm and leg outside, ending in a cloven foot almost indistinguishable from Ruda's hooves.

  Individual sections of the future barrel-shaped ribcage, with not the slightest gap between the ribs, were frozen on separate mechanical arms, awaiting their turn. A gray-skinned trainee, a Troll, sat at the control panel, carefully guiding the sharp end of the artificial eye socket into a cluster of waiting manipulators holding the biological portions of Yeshua’s optic nerve, extending outward from his melted socket. Once the base was grafted, the black crystalline lens of the deactivated ocular would be installed into the sariant, restoring his damaged vision.

  Heavy. Unwieldy. Equipped with a whole arsenal of mutilating devices, the new parts looked nothing like the lost, flexible limbs.

  looked nothing like the lost, flexible limbs.

  The price of my arrogance.

  Medics would work on Yeshua nonstop, adding implants in place of lost organs and restoring the integrity of his body until he regained the ability to function. Ruda didn’t like that term. It reeked of fixing a broken tool, but the command’s decree demanded that combat units be ready as soon as possible.

  “Hello, Yeshua,” Ruda said.

  “Hey, Champ!” Ney tapped the glass. “Have you heard the news?”

  Yeshua opened his remaining eye, trapped in a web of inflamed veins. His pale lips twisted into a smile.

  “Can’t even die in peace,” he grumbled.

  Yeshua’s mouth moved, but not even a puff of air escaped. A sound came from the capsule’s speaker. Sensors on the crusader’s neck captured the vibrations of his vocal cords, transmitting them to a compact terminal, where a program translated them into words and noises, adding the most appropriate timbre and intonation to the created voice.

  The patient, trapped in the liquid, heard them in a similar way. The sounds touching the capsule’s surface were transformed into vibrations, passing through wires leading to his ear. Then they reflected on his eardrum, held from contact with the liquid by a plug.

  “Not on my watch.” Ruda pulled Ney away from the capsule, imagining how terrifying it must have been for her friend to hang helpless while soulless machines chopped his body apart. “Yeshua, I’m so sorry...”

  “Oh, come on, I’m not so boring for you to regret saving me.” The body inside the capsule shook in a parody of laughter. A melted cheek was cut away, revealing a grin of blackened teeth visible through the transparent oxygen mask. “I have the most important thing left. I can have children!”

  “Congratulations! I owe you a beer as soon as you pull through,” Ney said.

  “Cheapskate. At least fork out for some cognac.” Yeshua pursed his lips, trying to exhale. “You know, I was scared. Returning to my girlfriend as a eunuch... Although maybe it won't work out anyway. I'm about to gain another hundred and thirty kilograms.”

  “I’m sure you’re worrying over nothing. I’m ready to explain the circumstances to her...”

  “Just don’t lie on top of her with your extra weight, chubby.”

  “Ney!” Ruda gasped in horror.

  “Even if she leaves me, I won’t blame her,” Yeshua mumbled.

  "Perhaps you shouldn't attribute dark thoughts to a lady. Love, you know, is a reciprocal thing, not a sum obtained from an equal exchange. Does it bother you that your tennis chick didn't fight in a battle?" Ney asked.

  "A ridiculous comparison, but I understand." Yeshua glanced warily at the trainee, shuddering as another manipulator entered the capsule. The Troll gave him a reassuring thumbs-up. "Let's first see what happens after they reassemble me from this construction kit. What's the news?"

  “Yeshua O’Brien, in light of your recklessness, failure, inattention, squandering, and incredible stubbornness...” Ney stood at attention, hands clasped behind his back. His dispassionate speech echoed off the walls. “Grand Magister Szarel had no choice but to knight you. I tried to be the voice of reason, but the heat of your candle melted any arguments...”

  “Ney,” Yeshua warned.

  "We'll definitely flare up a party to celebrate your promotion later..."

  "Do you comprehend how soon I'll be able to rip your anus?"

  "Should we call you Yeshua O'Brien von Bacon?" Ruda joked.

  “Ruda,” a growl came from the speaker.

  “More like de Barbecue, given the circumstances.” Ney nodded solemnly, taking her arm.

  “Planet, give me some sense, for I intend to take the head of a cusack as my emblem,” Yeshua chuckled. He grimaced, biting the corner of his intact lip from the implant’s penetration of his eye socket. A heavy exhalation came from the speaker, followed by a calm breathing pattern.

  “Still with us, Yeshua?” Ney asked. “If you’re sleepy, just say so. No need to overexert yourself.”

  “You won’t get rid of me that easily,” Yeshua muttered. “Ruda, I’m serious now. There’s no bad blood between us. Anyone could have been injured. Cenfus confirmed that we got the hostages out unharmed. That’s the only thing that matters. Neither you nor I are perfect...”

  “Your mind is probably clouded by the medication,” Ruda blushed.

  “But I intend to be for my commander.”

  “Ah, now our buddy is back with us.” The crusader smiled, placing her palm on the glass. From inside, her friend tried to imitate the gesture but was unable to raise his hand. “Get well. It’s not over.”

  “Of course not,” Yeshua snorted. “I haven’t earned enough for cloned body parts yet. What, did you expect me to be ready to lie in a coffin like this? Fat chance.”

  “We will assist in this noble endeavor,” Ruda said quickly.

  “Why are we rushing to put him in a coffin?” Ney asked. “He’s not that bad. For the most part.”

  “I meant in collecting money!” She nudged her betrothed.

  “Taking the last from the uneducated bums is vile...” Yeshua shrugged his whole shoulder.

  “Charity toward the temporarily disabled is beneficial for the soul, even if they are quarrelsome,” Ruda retorted. “Have you thought about what color you’ll choose?”

  “Definitely not pink. And not red.” Yeshua stared at Ney.

  “What?”

  “Harsh, but fair.”

  “Darling, whose side are you on?”

  “The truth, my love.” Ruda smiled at him.

  “You two... Ha!”

  The speaker erupted in a hacking cough as the patient twitched from the metal needle that had pushed aside the skin over the destroyed portion of his ribs, while the manipulators carefully inserted the steel side into place. The display sensors showed a sharp jump in his heartbeat. Ruda turned to the Troll, intending to force the newbie to call the chief physician.

  “Everything’s fine! Urgrr... It entered. I specifically requested not to turn off my senses. Standing here like a corpse is creepy.”

  “What about music? Movies?” Ney asked. “Just blink, and I’ll smuggle my entire collection here.”

  “Forbidden on Cenfus’ orders. He allowed me only a few minutes to meet you. He’s worse than a moose sow with his precautions.” Yeshua shook his head from side to side, shaking off the unpleasant itch from the cables grafting onto his flesh. “Ruda. Back then, before the gate, you used the power, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” She looked at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. “I should have tried to master it earlier. I tried a full transformation yesterday and...”

  “Let’s just say she snores charmingly,” Ney suggested. “The rest could play out a killer role in a slasher without makeup.”

  “Don’t rush,” Yeshua advised. “One step at a time. The last thing you need is to end up catatonic from shock. Powers aren’t natural. Explore yours without straining.” His eye twitched, closing. “A knight... I’ve achieved it. Now... onward. A knight. A full-fledged crusader...”

  Ney nodded, leading Ruda away from the muttering man. She wordlessly wished him calm dreams and left, trying not to pound her hooves on the metal floor. Behind them, new manipulators entered the capsule, working on the gaping hole where his shoulder used to be. Complex implants took their places in the assembled ring that would serve as the connecting point between the metal arm and the human torso.

  She planned to keep watch outside, in case Yeshua suddenly regained consciousness, and question Bahran about how much Itil could be trusted. But the buzz of her personal terminal put an end to the uncertainty. Commander El Satanini sent the order to don armor, arm herself, and immediately join the magister on the observation deck.

  A detachment of infantry, led by Commander Chernogor, along with local volunteers, headed out on a reconnaissance mission.