The suggestion was so out of left field that Casey was left dumbstruck. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to figure out how to say too many things at once. That she was still grieving, she was exhausted, she was still getting used to her arm (not to mention how much she disliked it, but she couldn’t say that to Helga’s face). In the end, she could only manage a weak “What?”

“I can’t let you run off into the Frontier without knowing how to throw a punch,” Helga said. “Frances might be some way towards keeping you safe, if she accepts, but you’re not going to be with her all the time.”

“But I’m not trying to get in fights,” Casey said. “I’m trying to avoid them as much as possible.”

“I’m not teaching you how to get into fights,” Helga said. “I’m teaching you how to end them. If you’re getting in fights, then you weren’t listening to my story properly. If you want a more constructive reason, it’ll be a good way to work all that aggression out of you. Just give it a shot.”

Casey took a breath to argue again, found her brain had nothing for her, and let it out. “Fine.”

After the jump, Helga took Casey to the Eulalia’s cargo area, where she had set up some workout equipment, all secured properly for flight. Of note were a punching bag and padded floor mats, which Helga got to work setting up. Casey opened and closed her left hand, trying to work out a phantom feeling of stiffness in the prosthetic.

“We’ll start with simple punches,” Helga said. “Just to make sure your form isn’t too rough. Then I’ll walk you through the rest, and we’ll practice by mixing it all up.”

Casey didn’t reply, half absorbed in fidgeting with her arm. When Helga finished, she brought Casey to the bag, and showed her how to stand so she wasn’t too easy to knock over.

“You have a few advantages here,” she explained as she nudged Casey’s feet into a more stable position with her own heavy work boots. “If you can get used to it, your left arm is going to hit like an impact hammer. Your legs too. It might seem obvious, but metal is a lot stronger than flesh and bone, and you can hit someone in the face without contracting tooth-in-knuckle syndrome.”

“Ugh,” Casey said, making a face at the mental image. “That’s why I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to hurt anyone like that.”

“I think you’ve already learned that there’s not always a choice,” Helga said. “Now hit the bag. Show me that hammer.”

After a second of hesitation, Casey wound up her left arm for a punch, but Helga’s dinner plate hand snapped out and caught it halfway to the punching bag. The sound it made was like a meat tenderizer, but Helga gave no reaction to the hit.

“Good power, but you’re telegraphing too much,” she said. “If you take that long to hit someone, they’re going to avoid it too easily. Watch closely.” 

Helga dropped into the same stance she had Casey in, and fired out two jabs. Her fists snapped out with lightning speed for her size, making a straight line from her chest to the bag. The impacts sounded like a pair of sonic booms. Despite her aversion to everything about this, Casey couldn’t help but be impressed. Maybe there was something to Helga’s more dangerous reputation.

“Try again,” she said. “From the chest, and lean into each one. It doesn’t have to be that fast yet.”

Casey tried again. Bap bap, went her fists into the bag, a far sight from Helga’s resounding booms. Despite this, Helga nodded in approval. “Good. You pick things up quick. Again. More force, especially in your left. Use it second.”

Bap BAP.

“Better. Again. Twist your hips into your left.”

BAP POW.

“There it is. Again.”

The training continued. With each impact, Casey felt something burn hotter in her chest. It felt right. Every hit came with equal and opposite force, back into herself. Her left fist couldn’t feel the texture of the bag that her right could, the jolt that slammed through her bones, but she could feel each hit in her left shoulder as it shook her ribcage. All her uncertainty and stray thoughts faded into the background. It was just her and the bag, focused to a laser point. When Helga called for a break, Casey didn’t stop until she waved a hand in front of Casey’s face. 

Over the rest of the day and the next – between breaks for meals and making a jump every six hours – Helga ran her through the gamut of the brawler’s toolkit. Haymakers, uppercuts, feints, how to duck and weave, even when to use her head – literally. Her Ovid strength in headbutting was emphasized, as it wasn’t commonly used, and could come as a surprise to many attackers, even helmeted ones. Each lesson came with the reminder to aim for vital areas. To use anything nearby as a weapon. Do anything to get the upper hand and end any fight as quickly as it starts. Playing fair was for sport. 

Thankfully, the journey wasn’t all fighting and reminders of Casey’s wanted status. Now that the pair had met some common ground, breaks and mealtimes involved easier and lighthearted conversations about Brock Station and the Frontier.

“…So she says, ‘Listher, if you don’t get your ass back to that dock and clean up the mess your team made, you’re going to have a lot more to worry about than poachers!’ Then, Listher, bless him, turns to her and goes ‘Oh yeah? Like what?’”

“Listher…” Casey groaned, covering her eyes. She and Helga had just finished eating lunch in the galley, with only one jump left until the undisclosed area of space where the mysterious Frances lived.

“I know, but in fairness, he was already three drinks deep,” Helga said. “That was the last straw for her though, so she goes, ‘Like regrowing all of your feathers!’ and yanks him off the stool by his tail!”

“What?!” Casey yelped. “Where were you when this happened?”

“Making his fourth drink!” Helga exclaimed, then burst out laughing.

Casey couldn’t help but give a small snort of amusement, but was still too emotionally fatigued to offer much more. “That’s the last thing I would have expected out of Reggie.”

“Those two had a pretty adversarial relationship for a while,” Helga said. She stood to clear the table. “I knew they would work out eventually, it just took a few months. Gave me plenty of stories, at least.”

The pensive look that suddenly crossed Casey’s face made Helga raise an eyebrow. “Uh oh,” she said. “What are you thinking about now?”

“When I first came to Brock Station, you told me to make sure to take control of my own story before rumors could start,” Casey said. 

“Yes…?” Helga replied, placing the plates in the santizer.

“What are they saying?” Casey asked. “I know people are already talking about what happened.”

Helga gave a severe look of uncertainty and leaned against the galley counter. “Do you really want to know that? It doesn’t paint Nate in a good light.”

“Just tell me,” Casey insisted.

Helga sighed. “The word is, Nate was a spy sent to kill you for blowing up that space station, but you managed to lure him into the line of fire of your ship’s cannon at the cost of your arm. The knowledge that one of the Blessed took control of his body is only really known to a few people.”

“What? Why?” Casey asked. “That needs to be public knowledge.”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds,” Helga said. “This is the first time anyone’s heard of Ulthea controlling people like that. I’ve tried talking to the heads of the Spacers and the Haulers, they think I’m just scaremongering. Dr. Skisk says the Trust refuses to publish anything about Nate’s cybernetics scans until they have more data. Hell, I wouldn’t have believed you if I didn’t know you.”

“But… But it happened!” Casey sprang from her seat, gripping her horns. “What are they not getting? We have evidence and surveillance footage and–”

“All we have is hearsay, security footage of someone trying to kill you, and scans of unknown cybernetics,” Helga interrupted. “To anyone else, it looks like we got duped by a well outfitted spy.”

Casey gritted her teeth and planted her fists on the table. “They’re not getting away with this,” she said. “I’ll tell my story. I’ll make sure the Frontier knows about Lawsek.”

“Even if nobody believes you?” Helga said.

“I don’t care,” Casey said. Her face was a mask of determination as she turned to look at Helga. “What do I have left to lose?”

The look that settled on Helga’s face was a familiar one. It was the one that said she was certain Casey was making a mistake, her mouth pressed in a line with her brows furrowed. “Your life, for one. Your friends wouldn’t want to lose you. On that note, I’d prefer it if you stayed alive myself. If you make a big enough stink about this, you’re going to bring them down on you like a hammer.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Casey asked, exasperated. “This is happening all over the galaxy. Do I just let Lawsek kill whoever they want?”

Helga grimaced, and took a moment to think. “No… No, you’re right. Damn it. We need a way to spread this without risking your neck or causing a panic.”

Casey hadn’t considered the second point. Risking her neck was all well and good in her opinion, but she didn’t like the idea of people randomly pointing fingers at anyone who could possibly be a proxy. Their standards of proof might be more lax than she felt comfortable with. “You already tried the big three. What’s left?”  she asked. “We just tell every civilization out here one by one and hope they listen?”

The intercom chimed, breaking the pair out of their contemplation as the ship AI spoke.

“CDrive Charge At One Hundred Percent.”

“You know what?” Helga asked. She pushed herself off of the counter. “I think I know just the person for this little problem.”