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“Ree—can I call you Ree?” Aran asked, buckling on his spellblade. “No.” “Ree,
“She’s free. You’re broke. This is what you have. Deal with circumstances—” “—as they are, not as I wish them to be.”
“Man, I hate magic sometimes. Sentient spider webs? What god thought that was a good idea?”
“Well, my granddad said if you’ve got an axe, and you ain’t got nothing else, then every problem looks like a sugar tree.” Crewes engaged the thruster on his armor, rising slowly into the air. He circled the god-spider-dragon thing. “My brother’s got a whole tool kit. He’s got a spanner, and a screwdriver, and a hammer. Me? I just got that axe.”
“Icy Storm of Death, Disintegrate Shit, Impervious Bubble of Coolness—” “You named these spells, didn’t you?” Voria put a hand to her temple. “We’re given the key to the most powerful ship in the galaxy, and it has the mind of an eight-year-old. Do any of the spells involve poop?” She sighed.
Sergeant, what is that colorful phrase Corporal Kezia used back at Starn? The one when you killed the enforcer that nearly killed her.” “Uh, blast the shit out of ’em, sir,” Crewes supplied. “Yes, well, if the dragon appears…blast the shit out of ’em.” The major gave a half-smile.
Aran walked slowly to a debris-free area of the floor. He watched Dirk closely. The man moved like Erika, but better. Who knew how many Catalysts he’d been to, or what abilities he might possess? He’d been training before Aran’s parents were old enough to go on a date.
Crewes fired again. “Did you think I was just gonna let you kill the LT? I spent months breaking in this kid. Do you know what a pain in the ass it is to train a new officer? Nah, you’re out of bounds, war mage. Sit the fuck down.”
