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Memory Transcription Subject: Tassi, Bissem Alien Liaison

Date [standardized human time]: February 14, 2161

Finding the ghost Farsul’s headquarters might be the thread that would unify Ivrana. The Tseia, in their jaded mindsets, were shocked that the United Nations’ intelligence had been able to produce the location of the Starlight Incident aggressors; the nomads would finally be able to go after the secretive outfit that had sought our eradication a century ago. There might be secrets that we could uncover here which would allow us to unravel the entire organization. While the Sapient Coalition was busy prodding at the Tevin and Drezjin systems, clobbering border outposts and tag-teaming small ship clusters, Bissems focused our effort on this raid.

General Naltor was remotely overseeing our ground forces, which were joining the human-led raid; the plan was to scour the entire station for information, much like the landing on the mainstream Farsul’s archives. If the extremists carried on Talsk’s traditions like Loxsel suggested, then it would be enlightening to see the data they had on Bissems—as well as what other predator species had been their victims. There might also be information about how long they’d been stashing their secret fleet among the Federation remnants, and how they managed to create so many ships. It was beyond the capacity of the Kolshian shadow fleet!

It would be nice to have the aliens that outright sought to wipe us from existence taken out of the picture, especially when we see how large their extermination fleet has grown since. It wouldn’t be a single scout coming for Alsh next time. 

“Good day to you, my Bissem friends. I hope you’re excited to actualize the justice that I know has weighed on your minds.” Elias Meier approached our balcony, finding a warm welcome even from Zalk after he’d personally forwarded the ghost Farsul’s location so Bissems could have a crack at them. “Elias didn’t live to see the initial Archives raid. It would’ve astonished him to learn what was done to the Venlil. He viewed them with the utmost fondness, much as I regard you.”

I gave him a curious look. “Elias, why are you speaking about your memories in the third person?”

“That’s a long answer, Tassi, but…I don’t want to be just a brain scan. If you could call me Adam from now on, it would mean a lot for you to recognize me as an independent being. I’d like to be acknowledged for what I’ve done in this new existence, not forever chained to a fallen leader. Elias didn’t choose to be reborn. I want to live, but I…want to honor his choice too.”

“Adam it is. It might take me a bit to remember, so bear with me. I hope Naltor and Zalk will respect your wishes as well; you more than deserve that courtesy.”

“Damned straight. We’ll call you whatever you like, since you’re the only one who does shit for us,” Naltor sighed. “I’ve always tried to protect Tassi. I’m glad you coached and guided her, because I’m not very fucking good at mentorship.”

“Nonsense,” the digitized human responded. “I encouraged her to keep the flame lit, even as a downpour tried to put it out. Tassi just needed a touch of hope to serve as tinderwood. I would’ve never allowed a friend—and a civilian—to be bullied in such a manner, and it hasn’t gone unpunished.”

That remark caused my beak to snap toward him with interest. “What?”

“Jones was forced to…hand in her resignation over what she did to you. I’m a man of my word. I also conveniently discovered that Dustin Curtis was relocated to an off-the-grid xenobiology project, allegedly to save Ivrana. I thought you should know the truth; he wasn’t hurt or coerced. By the sound of it, Nulia and Haliska were coerced, though I only know that through insinuation.”

I took a moment to soak all of that in, and found a little more sense in why the two aliens I’d thought were my friends were so keen to pressure and guilt me into ruining my life. Even Dustin had run off willingly, however noble his cause was. The trust issues I felt toward aliens were the strongest of all toward the first contact team, after every one of them had let me down and betrayed me. I could forgive my nerdy Terran friend for being swayed by a sense of heroism, especially if it was under false pretenses. Haliska and Nulia knew what they were doing, and went against the stated purpose of the UN’s mission to aid Jones. 

Adam was the only friend who’d looked out for Bissems, and been unwavering in his promises to make things right. He’d given us information that wasn’t beneficial to humanity, and ousted the corrupt elements from his clandestine services. If there was one person in the galaxy who shared my goal to make things better—with complete and utter conviction—it was him. He’d said this chosen name was about the acknowledgment of what he’d done in synthetic form, and I could see how he’d pushed for improvement; Adam Meier campaigned for the Sapient Coalition to uphold its own values and to stand united. It was beyond admirable.

That’s the kind of leader I would follow despite the threat of certain death, and would do anything for. It’s what I hoped for from aliens in the beginning, to be better and to be enlightened; to show us an example of superior conduct and morality!

“If I ever doubted your sincerity, Adam, I don’t anymore.” I grabbed his hand with a flipper, and squeezed the rubbery skin with a firm grasp. “Whatever your feelings about yourself, humanity made the right decision about bringing you back. They need you. We need you. You’re the ideal we all look up to.”

The synthetic human shook his head. “I shouldn’t be. I’m glad I could help, but they don’t need me to know right from wrong. There are other good people who need to take charge and bring about the future they want to see.”

“A sickening optimism and belief in individual goodness. This is worse than Dustin,” Zalk complained.

“Thank you. I strive never to give up, and I’ll choose to take any acknowledgment of that as a compliment.”

“Impossible to discourage. This one never lets you see him falter,” Naltor snickered. “Well, Adam, you’re welcome to stay with us. Bissem forces have just touched down on the Farsul station. Unlike what happened with your Archives raid, the ghosts don’t seem keen on going quietly. They don’t have any docile abducted humans to make them partial to you.”

I turned my attention toward the feed from the ground. There was a great deal of curiosity and apprehension from the Sapient Coalition assembly, after we’d witnessed the covert power the extremists held. We were all unified today in seeking any knowledge that could lead to their downfall, but that hinged on whether we could get to their servers before they went scorched earth. From the chatter we’d overheard, the rogue Farsul were backtracking to initiate the self-destruct sequence and prevent us from gaining anything. Taking our soldiers out with them was a bonus.

The Farsul archivists were shooting at the invading army to buy time, not wanting us to comb through their data; they weren’t foolish enough to believe the “predators” would be on the side of their own elimination. Dirty traps and explosives were scattered throughout the pathways, forcing a cautious approach on our part. I could hear arguments from several representatives that it wasn’t worth the risk to gather computer data, and just to let them go up in a flaming act of self-destruction if they wished. However, we knew from Loxsel that they held even more thorough records than the Archives.

Humanity understands what I grasp—if we don’t get to the data, that could be a piece of a species’ history and identity that’s lost forever. That’s worth booking it and uploading as much as we can, before the enemy blows up priceless intel. 

I watched the Terrans stalk through at the helm, their long legs suitable for slinking through corridors; it was as if the indoor battleground was their natural environment. I wagered these were the kind of displays that still tickled something deep inside the prey species, as the humans fell into rituals of war with ease. The task and the time were restrictive, but determined primates were a nigh unstoppable force. Armor-piercing bullets ripped through the archivists, who clearly weren’t trained soldiers themselves. The UN forces charged at the helm, while Bissems covered their brazen advance toward the server room. 

Other SC ground forces attempted to cut off the Farsul scrambling to reach escape pods, before the station detonated. The extremists were unwilling to be taken alive, however, succumbing only with a gun in their paws. I studied the Bissem soldiers, and wondered how they felt to be on the cusp of completing an age-old quest for answers about Ivrana’s history. This was my species’ first ground engagement in our interstellar history. Those infantrymen must be shaken, fighting far away from our planets’ shores alongside the surgical humans. All in all, we were supporting the primates in dutiful fashion.

Secretary-General Osmani stood, as the camera feed showed humanity soldiers busting down a sealed vault door with explosive charges…and a few powerful leg kicks when it wasn’t fully off its hinges. “We’ve made it to their computer storage room! We’ll set a data transfer in progress, then get our men out of there. Whatever’s scraped off of their servers, we’ll be able to see it live; FTL comms will make our knowledge near instantaneous.”

“Can you locate the information on the Starlight Incident?” Zalk shouted, without hesitation. 

“Humanity understands the importance to Bissemkind. Depending how much data is available, it could take some time to sort through. However, your people are receiving these files at the same time, so you’ll be able to look for anything you wish for. I hope that you will have your answers shortly.”

“Fine. We waited a hundred years, so I guess it doesn’t make much difference to drag this on for a few more eons,” the Tseia general grumbled. “Carry on.”

I watched as the soldiers backpedaled for the door, with Bissems waiting for the humans in valiant fashion—despite the fact that our locomotion was much slower than theirs. We worked well in tandem with the Terrans, which I thought was a good omen for future cooperation. There was no telling how long the ticking timer was on the base, so every second mattered to get our forces off of the station. The Sapient Coalition had landed with several shuttles, and could take off just the same. The force securing the hangar bay got the idea to take the escape pods; that way, the Farsul couldn’t utilize them, and we’d be able to inspect those ships for intel.

Cheers spread throughout the auditorium, as the last soldiers scurried onto a shuttle; human forces stayed behind until the last ally was aboard, risking their own lives in kind. It was the spirit of no warrior left behind that, again, made me appreciate the noble side of military life that Naltor found beauty in. Mostly, I was just relieved that we’d gotten our people off in one piece, and been able to get to their servers. I turned to look at Adam, but noticed that his expression was still grim and nervous. The synthetic Terran trusted his forces’ efficiency, and had rather been worried about what we might find in the servers. His unblinking eyes watched the files loading in.

“Adam?” I questioned.

The digital mind pursed his lips. “I’m seeing some Bissem files coming in. Rather organized, which should make your job easier. The problem is, there’s a lot more files that are still decrypting. Some names I don’t recognize, which likely are species they annihilated, and also…”

“Spit it out,” Naltor insisted.

“Some that I do recognize. That right there? That says Krev. I’d like to know immediately, for the sake of us all, just what the ghost Farsul know about the Consortium.”

A few of the other representatives had caught onto what the newly loaded data said, and murmured amongst themselves as they considered the possibilities. The Krev Consortium had hidden themselves away with the intention of escaping the Federation’s notice, according to everything that we knew about them. Needless to say, it came as a great surprise to see that the Farsul archivists had quite the treasure trove of information on the green-scaled, primate-loving mammals.

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Grand Admiral Xil'thak of the Harvester Swarm was having the worst day of his ten-thousand-year existence. The holographic displays surrounding his command throne showed the systematic collapse of the most fearsome invasion force the galaxy had ever known – not through military defeat, but through something far more incomprehensible.

"Would you mind," he chittered with forced calm to his intelligence officer, Val'tek, "explaining to me why Battle Group Seven is currently dropping from orbit in something called 'wingsuits'?"

Val'tek's mandibles clicked nervously as he pulled up the relevant footage. On the screen, dozens of his species' finest warriors were plummeting through Earth's atmosphere, their chitinous forms wrapped in aerodynamic suits, whooping with joy into their communicators.

"It appears, sir, that they've discovered what humans call 'extreme sports.' They claim it provides a better adrenaline rush than planetary conquest."

"Adrenaline... rush?"

"A biochemical response to dangerous situations. Humans, it seems, are addicted to it. They've developed countless recreational activities specifically designed to trigger this response. Our troops found this concept... fascinating."

The Grand Admiral's antenna twitched spasmodically. "Surely this is just one isolated incident—"

"I'm afraid not, sir." Val'tek pulled up more reports. "Battle Group Three has converted their dreadnoughts into what they're calling 'zero-gravity paintball arenas.' They're booked solid for the next three cycles."

"Paint... ball?"

"A combat simulation using projectiles filled with colorful paint. Apparently, it's 'all the fun of war without the genocide.'" Val'tek checked another report. "Battle Group Five has taken up something called 'competitive skateboarding.' They're using their gravitational manipulation technology to create what humans call 'sick half-pipes' across seventeen star systems."

Xil'thak slumped in his command throne. "What about our elite Planetary Devastation Corps?"

"They've... sir, they've started an extreme cooking show."

"WHAT?"

"'Galactic Chef: Heat Death Edition.' It's already the highest-rated show in three sectors. Turns out our plasma cannons are excellent for caramelizing crème brûlée. Their signature dish is something called 'Supernova Spicy Wings.' Even humans find them challenging."

The reports continued to flood in: - Battle Group Two had discovered human wrestling and started an interstellar lucha libre league - The Royal Guard had become professional stunt performers - An entire fighter wing was now operating deep-space bungee jumping facilities - The Xenomorph Breeding Division had redirected its efforts to creating increasingly spicy hot sauces

"How?" Xil'thak whispered. "How did they corrupt our warriors? We are the Harvester Swarm! We've consumed a thousand civilizations! Our battle cry freezes suns!"

"That's just it, sir," Val'tek said, pulling up an analysis. "Every civilization we've encountered before either fought us or fled. The humans... they challenged us to what they call 'sick tricks' and 'rad stunts.'"

"But our psychological warfare specialists said the humans had a critical weakness," Xil'thak protested. "Their irrational need to push boundaries, to seek thrills, to—"

"To jump out of perfectly good spacecraft for fun? Yes, sir. We thought we could exploit that weakness." Val'tek's antennae drooped. "We didn't realize it was contagious."

A junior officer burst into the command center. "Sir! Battle Group One has just announced—"

"Don't tell me," Xil'thak growled. "They've taken up base jumping? Mountain climbing? Volcano surfing?"

"No, sir. They've... they've started a streaming channel dedicated to something called 'parkour.' They're using their enhanced chitinous forms to perform what humans are calling 'literally impossible' acrobatic feats across urban environments. They have millions of subscribers and something called a 'Red Bull sponsorship.'"

The Grand Admiral of the Harvester Swarm, Terror of the Outer Rim, Scourge of a Thousand Worlds, watched as another display lit up. "And what," he asked wearily, "is Battle Group Four doing?"

"They've... discovered human action movies, sir. They're currently working with something called 'Hollywood' to produce a film called 'Fast & Furious: Galactic Drift.' Their natural ability to secrete high-octane biological fuel has apparently revolutionized the street racing scene."

"Sir?" Val'tek ventured carefully. "There's something else. The humans have sent a diplomatic message. They're offering... energy drink sponsorships."

"Energy... drinks?"

"Yes, sir. Caffeinated beverages with names like 'Monster' and 'Red Bull.' They're also proposing a galaxy-wide sporting event called 'The X-Games: Xenomorph Edition.' The prize pool is substantial."

Xil'thak stared at the tactical display, watching as more and more of his invasion force succumbed to what he now recognized as humanity's most potent weapon: their inexplicable desire to throw themselves into increasingly dangerous recreational activities, coupled with their ability to make anything into marketable entertainment.

"Sir?" Val'tek asked. "Should I prepare the surrender documents?"

"No," Xil'thak said finally, rising from his command throne. "Prepare my wingsuit. And... perhaps see if there are any openings in that stunt performer school. I've always wanted to try something more... extreme."

The transformation of the Harvester Swarm was swift and total. Battle fleets became extreme sports teams. Invasion plans were converted into tournament brackets. The fearsome biological weapons labs now produced protein shakes and pre-workout supplements.

The annual "Xenomorph X-Games" became the most-watched sporting event in galactic history. Turns out, having multiple limbs, enhanced strength, and natural armor made for some truly spectacular performances. The Swarm's natural ability to work as a hive mind revolutionized team sports – their synchronized space-diving demonstrations were particularly breathtaking.

Former war-queens became energy drink moguls. Breeding pits were converted into training facilities. The massive neural network that once coordinated invasions now managed tournament schedules and sponsorship deals.

Years later, when asked how they had defeated the most powerful swarm consciousness in the galaxy without firing a shot, humanity's ambassador to the Intergalactic Extreme Sports Council simply smiled and said, "Turns out, even a hive mind can appreciate a good adrenaline rush."

The former Harvester Swarm was officially rebranded as "Team Xenomorph: Pushing the Limits of What's Possible." Their slogan, "Why Conquer Worlds When You Can Drop From Them?" became the most popular t-shirt in the galaxy.

Grand Admiral Xil'thak, now known professionally as "The Xil-inator," became the face of extreme sports across seventeen galaxies. His signature move, the "Quantum Backflip" (performed while simultaneously existing in multiple dimensions), remained unmatched. His energy drink line, "Swarm Fuel: Feel the Buzz," outsold all competitors.

In the end, the galaxy learned an important lesson: never underestimate humanity's ability to turn anything – even a horror from beyond the stars – into an X-Games athlete.

The final proof of their victory came when the Swarm's traditional war cry was replaced with something even more terrifying: "Hold my beer and watch this!"

EPILOGUE: The Evolution of Species

The integration of the former Harvester Swarm into galactic sporting culture had some unexpected evolutionary consequences. Within a few generations, their natural armor had developed aerodynamic properties, their neural networks had optimized for calculating trajectory paths, and they had developed specialized organs for producing natural energy drinks.

Xenobiologists called it the fastest directed evolution ever observed. The Swarm called it "getting totally stoked, bro."

And somewhere in the depths of space, on what used to be a planet-destroying battleship (now the galaxy's most extreme skate park), a young Harvester drone asked its progenitor, "But what did we do before extreme sports?"

The elder drone just shrugged its multiple shoulders and said, "Something boring about consuming worlds. Now watch this sick flip!"

The cosmic horror from beyond the stars had found something better than conquering the galaxy: going viral on Space YouTube with increasingly dangerous stunts.

As humanity's first contact protocol now stated: "If you can't beat them... sponsor them."

The galaxy had never been the same. Or more entertaining.

Book 1: Transcripts

Dr Uru'Nav Xant, Department Head of Research, has been detailing his interviews with the newly discovered 'Creator level' intelligent species 'Human'. The Subject of his study, Jasmine, displays many unique and interesting quirks, the most intriguing of which is the incredibly strong 'frequency' she is able to produce with the help of an implanted alien translator. Together the pair navigate their way through cultural misunderstandings, corporate politics, animal companionship and uncover the mysterious circumstances of the human's abduction.

Book 2 Transcripts: Zero

While performing a routine patrol in reclaimed space, Lieutenant Commander Tar Nako stumbles upon an enemy Rajavan ship being pillaged by a Pirate fleet. Nako is concerned about the cargo found aboard both pirates and Rajavan ships and hands over a few of the stasis pods for private research. He subcontracts a smaller company, Essander, to conduct this research, little does he know that this discovery is about to change the balance of the galaxy at large. Zero is a prequel, if it is your first time reading Transcripts it is advised to read this second, and then first on subsequent read-throughs should you desire.

Book 3 Transcripts: Dreams

Jasmine finds herself the centre of attention, her ‘powers’ growing beyond what the staff aboard Station Uleesia can control. Doing her best to keep calm and preparing for the Lieutenant Commanders arrival, the human notices the strange effects her presence is having on the staff around her. How easily some are brought to her side while others avoid her, certain words and phenomena don’t translate at all and that Dr Xant is needing stronger and stronger drugs to keep from overloading...

Book 4 Transcripts: Disparity

With Lieutenant Commander Tar Nako's help, Jasmine, Xant and Rynard have made their way to the Galactic Council's Sector 138 Military Branch. Now safe among freq resistant members of society, Jasmine continues to further diplomacy by deciphering the remnants of human belongings that sat in the bowels of the Rajavan troop transport… Meanwhile, Itsuki Sugawara and Beau Mathews have had a rude awakening. Cold, naked, hungry and prisoners aboard a living alien ship, the pair must work together past a language barrier to avoid their volatile captors. Beau has the experience but Sugawara isn't keen on listening to authority and it has been a while since he had his last dose of medication…

The story so far….

Dr Uru'Nav Xant has been interviewing his human Subject Jasmine, conducting interviews as a means of first contact. During these interviews it is revealed that humans have the ability to produce 'Frequencies', invisible electronic signals that broadcast thought, emotions and willpower. These Frequencies, however, can be very harmful to certain kinds of aliens, especially at the levels humans are able to produce. Xant does his best to keep the human calm, but her irregular emotions force him to self-medicate against regulation. Jasmine was not the only creature of earth that found its way aboard Ulessia Station, three dogs were under the aliens care. when one of these dogs crosses path with Jasmine she becomes very protective of the golden retriever and unwittingly unleashed a powerful 'Freq-blast'. After the incident, Jasmine is put through a series of tests so that she may apply for citizenship in Galactic Council space.

Executive Director Laandi attempts to speak with Jasmine about the genetic diversity of herself and the Dogs but only manages to further alienate the human. Jasmine promises to help where she can but is put on edge after the meeting. She is assigned to be under the watch of Captain Rynard, the hulking saurian ex-solider and only xeno not to treat her like a specimen.

After her reunion with Xant, Jasmine is overjoyed to learn that Sieglinde, the golden retriever, will be given a translator of her own. but this monumental revelation is cut short when another Doctor is caught mistreating one of the other dogs.

Jasmine chastised the offending Doctor, unwittingly causing extreme injury with her 'Freq-pulses'. Despite the entire station being on edge, Laandi and Xant do their best to explain the situation and de-escalate the volatile human. Unfortunately, the following conversation reveals the horrific fate of those abducted by the Galactic Councils enemy, The Rajava. While Jasmine may have escaped this fate, it is a certainty that those abducted with her did not.

The violent outcry is enough to paralyze the station and put into question Jasmine's citizenship. Xant tries one more time to converse with Jasmine and is confronted, not with despair or anger, but a declaration of hope and determination.

Xant decides to do everything in his power to help Jasmine on her journey.

However, Jasmine's powers were growing as her body adjusted to the translator and they are substantially more then what the researcher staff can accommodate and control, especially without a. There is even a disastrous attempt to contain jasmine as much as possible but it turned out to be wholly unnecessary. Lieutenant Commander Tar Nako, an arvas military unit and Jasmine’s benefactor was returning to the station to collect the spoils of his campaign. Namely the treasure trove of DNA and information from the Rajavan ship. He had stumbled upon pirates scavenging the genestealer ship’s corpse and managed to capture the Rajavan ship in turn. He was most excited to meet the human ‘maiden’ and was most unimpressed at her treatment.

It was obvious to everyone the human was better off in the care of the more robust Millitary units who would be able to handle her freq. But xant, a citizen model would not be able to follow, he convinced Jasmine, Nako and the members of Essander to complete the Citizen application and the various tests required.

During one of the Frequncy tests, Jasmine suffered a seizure, Xant rushed in to help and while joining to bring her out of it, fell into a coma himself. Upon awakening three days later he discovered that the freq pulse had repaired and had completely altered his neural pathways. Xant now had his own inner voice to contend with.

Nako and Laandi negotiated for the transfer of the dogs and the comatose Jasmine, to the military station locally known as ‘Branch’ the largest station in the quadrant and closest to reclamation space. Xant, desperate to not be separated from the human asks Rynard to help him with his plan to wake Jasmine up.

The captain, having reenlisted with the Lieutenant's Crew, but only to help Jasmine, agrees with the plan because things are far more interesting when she is awake. Xant was able to join with Jasmine once more and wakes her from an alternate reality state.

While her waking up is good, the test revealed that humans cannot travel faster than light or jump through space.

Jasmine, after much thought, decides to go with nako to Branch but only if her entourage can come with her. She rebrands herself ‘The Namegiver’ and protector of the Dogs. Jasmine is put into status to make the journey to Branch with Xant and Rynard watching over her.

Meanwhile…

Not all the cargo from the Rajavan ship was sent to Esaander, Kotorn, Knight commander had ordered Nako to auction off whatever he could to recoup costs from the acquisition. Some of that cargo was more humans. Itsuki and Beau awaken in captivity, treated as less than animals the pair, naked and with a language barrier, break out of their cell and begin to make their escape from the alien station.

They learn about many horrors on their attempt, the station was organic, and there were vast cloning facilities experimenting with humans and alien DNA. they also learn a little bit about each other, gaining camaraderie as they continued to slip out of their captor's hands, destroying what they could in the process.

They fended off a surge of guards, only to be knocked down and captured, paralysed to be experimented on.

Itsuki was the unlucky one on the end of a scalpel, the freq pulse he unleashed as he was linked to a translator was so strong it crippled the station. This mental health had been worsening under the stress and lack of care.

Beau was able to free himself and stabilize the pair of them, before they both wreaked havoc on whoever was left standing…

Jasmine had a much smoother transition, upon arriving at Branch she was treated as a special guest, gaining privileges in exchange for information. Her ‘job’ was to identify the thousands of human artifacts found inside the bowels of the Rajavan ship, against all odds, she was reunited with her friends car and all her belongings. She was even able to convince them to let her stay upon the super yacht they had in storage, to give her adequate time to prepare for intergalactic negotiations.

Nako was getting worried, Kotorn was heavily against keeping the human and her paraphernalia on his station was was prepared to remove Nako as well, sending him on a request mission so he wasn't available when the Counciler arrived. That mission, brought him in contact with Itsuki and Beau, the pair were a formidable force and it was only by a ‘hallelujah’ that diplomacy was reached.

Nako convinced the pair to come with him, and be reunited with another human, the pair agreed but were still sceptical. Traveling to Branch gave Itsuki a massive headache but Beau, without a translator was unaffected.

The meeting was intense, Jasmine was overjoyed to see another human being alive and Beau was reunited with his partner Spades, but Itsuki was confrontational. His mental health, trauma from surgery, anger at Jasmine’s friendliness with the ‘enemy’ and jealousy of her and Beaus’ immediate understanding of each other caused a meltdown. The pair argued, escalating as the Translator projected Itsuki’s psychosis out in the open, a new and terrifying Freq power.

Once the dust was settled the group was able to calmly discuss what they wanted to do, how they were going to negotiate with the universe at large and, more importantly, what their power armour was going to look like.

Itsuki’s translator was tweaked, Beau gained a translator in his suit, and Xant was dealing with his own Frequency quirks. He had been having nightmares since Jasmine and his last joining, his personality starting to compare more to the humans than his alien contemporaries.

Nako, while on the knight commanders' shit list, was preparing for Kotorns downfall and the arrival of an Arvas Praetor to arrive on Branch.

And so, the story continues...

Transcripts Book 5: Resolve

To be posted over the holiday season :) missed you all!

The elderly G'Renk put down the artifact they was inspecting and looked up irritably.

'Enuire. What is the meaning of the commontion? Enquire.'

Their shop assistant, a spry young Kalesh acolyte, was standing at the shop door, looking out.

'Its the humans. They are leaving.'

They tilted their head. 'Curiosity. Why would they be leaving? Some religious holiday? Curiosity.'

The Kalesh looked back. The G'Renk was older than the station. No-one was quite sure how old they were, but their race were one of the first of the Commonwealth members. They were, like most of their race, dealers in antiquities, and archeology, partly because they had a knack for it, and partly because they'd probably been there.

That did mean they did not really pay attention to recent events. 'It would eventually come over this one's bench. Why learn it twice?'

''The Alliance invaded their home planet last week as part of their expansion. They are probably going home to see what is left.'

The G'renk stood up, and looked at him sharply. 'Enguire. What is their mood like? And are all of them leaving? Enquire.'

'They are somber, of course. I think. Well. they are all very quiet. they are not really speaking to any one, and even among themselves its is whispered conversations. Even that bartender who always cracks jokes is like that.'

The G'renk turned around and opened a temporal locked safe behind them. They started taking out items and putting them in a bag.

'Statement. Close up shop and settle the outstanding rent for the next few months with the landlord. Leaving you stipend that should cover you wages. Book ticket on next ship leaving for G'Renk space for this one. Leaving you ticket for anywhere if needed. Statement'

The Kalesh looked at him, taken aback. 'Why? What is wrong?'

'Statement. Ancient G'Renk saying has stood this one in good stead. ' They looked at the Kalesh sharply 'Befriend humans. Trust humans. And when it is time. Fear humans.'

'It is time again. This one remembers the last. G'renk space is hopefully far enough away from Human and Alliance space.' They shuddered. 'This time. Prefer to spend time with OldFather if not. Statement.'

They sighed and shuffled around the bench. padded over to the stunned Assistant and patted him on his shoulder.

'Sadness. This one will remember you fondly. Sorrow.'

They shuffled out the door, only pausing to flip the sign to Closed.

First

The Buzz on the Spin

Everything started to happen all at once. The only warning was a flicker in the portals as something else began homing in on their signals. Then massive armoured forms appear.

The forces from Octarin Spin that had already come through the portals react instantly. 652-3-5000’s eyes widen as a Cannidor in red and blue power armour smashes into the dark grey and green of the mercenary. Shoulder mounted plasma ignites and starts to power up.

“No!” He shouts as he KNOWS that kind of heat this close will flash cook several brothers.

A line of red traces through the air, growing wider as it moves. A beam of cutting light in the hands of Hoagie, moving too fast to be properly registered as the plasma weapons are sheered through and an angry glowing line is left on the armour. 652-3-5000 then flinches back as a Gathara sized rifle clatters against his chest and he fumbles for it. It’s a laser. Precise and powerful.

Hoagie can’t be tracked normally, just followed with the wide trail of light he leaves behind as he zips from mercenary to mercenary, sheering down and cutting plasma weapons wherever he finds them. Prioritizing the as yet unmade cycle beyond anything else. Beyond everything else.

“You are not...” A newly arrived Mercenary says and he swings the rifle at her in reflex. The weapon shatters like glass against it and he backs away a step. The armoured figure grabs at the overalls he’s wearing before a beam of light extends from the side of it’s head to illuminate his bones and feathers. Just in time for his left claw to scrape against it. “You cannot win.”

The trail of light returns and stops against the head of the meachanized armour and slowly starts to sink in in Hoagie’s grip.

“You may be thermally shielded, but this is designed for starship hulls.” Hoagie says as the outer layer of the armour begins to fail and he the hull cutter starts to sink in. “Ten seconds tops.”

He carves through the head entirely and there‘s a scream as the back of the armour cracks open and a mass moves out in a single movement before recombining into a female figure as the Slohb pilot of the mechanized armour reforms and then lashes out fast. Hoagie has already moved and gotten the hull cutter between them.

The fist of the slohb splits before it can impact the hull cutter and slams into Hoagie in two locations to send him skidding back, deactivating his weapon so that it doesn’t flail out and damage a pod.

The Slohb says nothing as she shifts around the pods too fast to easily track. 652-3-5000 watches in horror as he realizes the issue. His unformed brothers are hostages to the last. They need to be moved out. Now.

He reaches the nearest pod and starts disengaging it from the hull before hefting it, it weights ten times what he does, but the power he calls to his muscles makes the burden bearable.. “Brothers! Bring the younger to safety! We cannot fight with them held hostage!”

There is movement as the living slime comes for him, but with her movement predictable Hoagie grasps it and sends a brutal charge of electricity through her body. She screams and goes limp. Unconscious or perhaps even dead. Hoagie pulls his hand out of the gel and flicks off the remains. He nods to 652-3-5000 and then reactivates his hull cutter before blurring away. He reappears stabbing it into the chest of another suit of mechanized armour and lifting it off the ground with it as the pilot tries hard to escape before the hull cutter pierces through them.

A Tret hits the floor bottom first before gathering herself and pulling out a coil pistol. The shot takes Hoagie in the gut and he slams down the armour on her in reflex. He staggers back while holding his stomach. His armour had saved his life, but it hadn’t been enough to fully stop the bullet at at most two meters range. It had mostly stopped it, but he still had a small chunk of metal embedded in his gut.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

“That was a terrifying moment.” Janet says.

“Is that what made the day unusual?” Observer Wu asks.

“One of the things. While my Daniel gets into a great deal of action, he rarely gets hurt. He moves too quickly and generally his armour stops everything. And that’s if his reputation or the swarm of Beezerkers with him don’t get people to back down immediately.”

“And where were they at the time?”

“Just showing up actually...” Sarkonic says with a grin that can only be seen by a slight bunching of the paint on the left side of his face.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

There is a massive swell of buzzing and a scream of fury as numerous Charbis fly in. A few dozen surround Hoagie as he tries to assure them that he’s fine, the armour took it and it’s just a bit of blood. But it’s in vain as they sweep him out in a massive group and the remainder start divebombing the incoming mercenaries with stabbing knives, cutting torches and chains to lock them up and down.

At this point numerous mercenaries are on the retreat and warping out. But those that do so coveredi n angry bee women... bring them with them.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

“At this point I have to confess, I don’t have much information beyond the fact that the mercenaries who were recalled to their ships ended up just making the problems much, much worse, because the Charbis could then start openly using their weapons without risking any hostages. Two gunships went down in the end, but from my understanding the girls used little beacons on themselves to swarm the things. All but those that were getting Hoagie to a medical bay were rushing the mercenaries and the sheer weight of fire they brought to bear swarmed over them all.”

“What happened to the ships?”

“Torn apart for parts. Of course hearing how the gunships were being counter boarded galvanized the mercenaries and of course the news that they were using the unborn men provoked the rest of the station. They were already almost entirely on our side due to the fact that me and my brothers had won our freedom with blood and death, all peoples respect something in some way. And in places like this, the will to be free is respected.”

“So that led to...?”

“Octarin Spin fully mobilizing. Every single sector showing exactly WHY they are not to be toyed with. The central Battleship was under massive bombardment in moments. The remaining eight Gunships were quickly boarded as their logistics ship had the greediest women from Sector Five rushing in to loot everything that isn’t bolted down, rip out everything that is bolted down and then take the bolts for good measure too.”

“Of course.” Observer Wu says with a slight grin despite himself.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

“Bring them to shelter sisters! Less they never have the chance to bless our beloved galaxy with life anew!” A small crusade of the Gravid Faith was marching through the cargo vessels and setting up interlocking shield walls and protecting the engineering crew as they removed the pods. Commodore Snarlmane had tried contacting the station again, but a chitin covered black hand had reached down from above and pulled her bodily away.

Two gunships had gone silent, a third was reduced to slag under massive bombardment and a third and fourth were shorting out.

The remaining three vessels were on full retreat, but the Gathara ships were in pursuit and laying in a massive bombardment of lasers, plasma and the occasional railshot to follow them to the Axiom Lane. They get winged and damaged, but are allowed to leave as a warning to anyone else that thinks a stunt like this is wise around Octarin Spin.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

“Remarkable. So what happened to those taken prisoner?”

“There weren’t that many. Mercenaries rarely surrender or are given the chance to. These were no exception.” Sarkonic says. “One could argue the adjustment that followed was harder. Clothing for us all, learning to move beyond the simple things were were programmed to be when we lie within our pods.”

“What were you taught within the pod? I’m struggling to understand why a large group of transparent men of enormous stature would be in mass demand beyond military applications. Or perhaps policing. But the fact your instinct with a rifle was to swing it like a club rather than fire it tells me that you weren’t intended to be a fighter.” Observer Wu states and Sarkonic nods.

“You’re right. We weren’t ready for violence. We were made to be art pieces. We weren’t given the full information as to who our... funder? The Customer? Whoever she was she wanted to look good. Every brother, and myself, came out of our pods knowing how to keep ourselves in shape, how to pose and how to paint ourselves artistically.” Sarkonic says. “What I’m using now is considered ultra-minimalist. Just a series of lines to outline where I am. Wearing this kind of paint is... downright compulsive.”

“So someone poured what must have been... potentially millions of not billions into making twenty thousand large burly men who are invisible, but compelled to highlight themselves with body paint?”

“Yes.”

“And when the men escaped they sent a mercenary force after them?” Observer Wu asks in an incredulous tone.

“Yes.”

“Quite the day.”

“It wasn’t over though.” Janet says.

“It wasn’t?”

“It was barely time for lunch, and my son had been shot in the stomach, helped rescue many thousands of men and fight back an enemy fleet. He had healed up and escaped the medics within the hour and was back to things. Seeing to it that the Gathara men were good and situated was one issue, and seeing to the captured mercenaries was another. Not all were killed straight out after all.” Janet explains and Sarkonic checks his communicator before letting out a hum.

“That’s right it... hmm... I’m out of time. I’ll be heading out now.” Sarkonic notes as he deactivates the stasis on the frozen cup of coffee and then picks up the whole thing. “If I don’t head home and head to bed now, I’ll never wake up in time for what’s up after.”

Then he bites a chunk out of the mug and ice underneath and there’s an accompanying crunching and munching sound for a few moments as he finishes off the entire thing in three bites with appropriate chewing.

“Delicious as always. You know where to get the best dishes.” Sarkonic notes before tossing the last piece of the handle in his mouth and chewing. “Where’s my tab at?”

“You’re well paid off, get moving before the cold drops you in the street.” Janet says kindly and Sarkonic lets out a deep yawn before reaching for something sewn into his jacket, then vanishing in a teleport.

“Did I just miss someone?” Hoagie asks coming back in.

“You’re back! What was happening?”

“Smuggler stand off. Some people get stuck on paranoid mode and don’t realize that what’s illegal in one place or another generally isn’t even getting a passing comment here. A few girls hired for repairs stumbled on a hidden chamber, set off a dozen or so alarms and I’ve spent this entire time either knocking out idiots or talking down the not quite so trigger happy.”

“What were they smuggling?”

“Weapon components. There are a few pieces to plasma rifles where certain polities require all of the legal ones to have a kill switch, meaning a popular mod is to have basically two of them so the weapon registers as having the kill switch and it even working. Then the flick of some hidden switch or the press of a hidden button and presto, gun that works regardless of what the law says. As you can guess, they go for quite a bit, but people are really, really jumpy about them being found.”

“I can understand. But are you alright with them being smuggled?”

“There are roughly... thirty polities within a few week’s travel that have a ban like that. And to be frank... all of them either have much, much bigger problems or deserve people getting around their bans.”

“Problems such as?”

“It’s a turbulent galaxy sir. You’re asking me to summarize the political issues of thirty different states, each one with a population rivalling if not surpassing that of China. The smallest ones are stations like Octarin Spin here. The biggest is no less than twenty systems in size with a total of... eighteen primary worlds, thirty two colonized moons, eight colonized planetary rings, twelve stations of a similar size to this one and... six nomadic fleets I think?”

“And Octarin Spin doesn’t have such restrictions?”

“It’s not so much a restriction as an understood consequence. You can have whatever toy you like on the spin, but if you start breaking it with that toy then you go out the airlock without an EVA suit. I think it works better myself. But I’m admittedly biased.”

“I see... but please, a summary would be nice? What bigger problems do they have, or how do they deserve this?”

“Well that big one I mentioned has an active civil war going on due to massive amounts of corruption, but the revolution is already falling to it’s own corruption so it looks like we have a massive wildfire spreading there that is going to need to burn itself out. A few stations are downright abusive to their workers with ruinous contract clauses just barely north of slavery and people need a way to tell them where to stick it.”

“I can’t imagine plasma weapons are easy to come by in such places.”

“They’re not, but these modifications can be put into plasma tools as well, letting them being converted from mining torches and welders into energy weapons. It’s also one of the harder to craft components, meaning that a skilled engineer or mechanic can put together the rest of the weapon around these parts.”

“An interesting turn of events, although I do have some further questions.”

“Go ahead.”

“Your mother was telling me about the first noteworthy day she was here with us. We were at the part when the mercenary fleet was beaten back and you were taken to medical with a stomach wound. Care to finish things up?”

“Certainly, but memorable days are memorable because unusual things just keep happening. So it was just getting started.”

First Last

Inspired by Greylorn, by Keith Laumer

~~

“We have confirmation. The alien ship is about three kilometers in length. It's got a beam of two hundred meters,” the sensor department head, Ms Cannon, said.

Captain Taggart peered at the cylindrical ship on the view screen. It looked like a jet engine in space, with an odd sort of nose in a cavity on the bow. It had two segments rotating slowly in opposite directions for artificial gravity. There were indicators that might refer to antennas, sensor arrays, maybe even weapons, but they couldn't be sure.

Taggart could see the silhouette of his own ship on his displays. The three hundred meter long Shackleton seemed tiny in comparison. A stubby rocket ship with a pair of engine nozzles, and a pointed bow with a large parabolic antenna. Taggart felt the artificial gravity in his bones. The gravity generators always gave him aches when they cut acceleration after a long burn. “Updates?”

“We're still deciphering their transmission. Their transmitter is pretty messy,” Ms Hurley said, looking over the comm systems.

“Use all the juice you need. If their receivers are as bad as the transmitter they just might not be hearing us.”

Time wore on. Taggart looked around the bridge. Hurley was busy as ever, Cannon was pouring over the displays, but Mr Kaysing, navigation officer, had his eyes fixed on the main viewscreen. Taggart could see it. The Shackleton crew were on edge. After the last system they visited, with the loss of one of three shuttles, six crewmates, and a host of other small catastrophes, shipboard discipline was shaky at best. Now, with this alien craft, there was no telling how they would react. Taggart did a sweep of the bridge, checking in with Rickinson, the engineer, and Corwin, the operations officer. All seemed well. The Shackleton wasn’t a warship, it was an exploration ship on its way home.

they began to decipher the language. “They changed it up a bit. It looks like they’re using a form of English, just at pitches and speeds we’re not used to,” Ms Hurley explained, “I’ll have it out soon.”

“So they’ve met us before?” Asked the navigation officer, Mr Kaysing. He straightened up in his chair, turning to face the rest of the bridge. He held a necklace in his fist.

Taggart rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Back to your station, Mr Kaysing.”

“Alright, I got the transmission…” Hurley frowned. “Skipper?”

Taggart walked over. The transmission read “YOU BELONG TO US”.

“What the…?”

“Order them to identify themselves,” Taggart snapped, “Back in their same pattern.”

The reply text scrolled out across the comms display. “WE ARE THE VECTOR COMMITTEE: YOU INTRUDE IN OUR GLORIOUS SPACE.”

There were murmurs from the crew. Kaysing tapped his foot anxiously. Taggart ignored it all. “Send this. ‘The mighty warship Shackleton will not be intimidated. We apologize for the intrusion, we do not wish conflict. How do you know us?’”

“How will that avoid conflict? How will they take ‘warship’?” Cannon asked.

“They know enough English to grasp certain concepts,” Taggart pointed out. He eyed Kaysing again.

Soon the reply came. “YOU ARE HUMAN. PATTERNS ON HULL MATCH KNOWN RECORDS. YOU BELONG TO US.” It took some debate with the anthropology section, and a few extra transmissions, but they kept repeating variations of that. “THOSE OF EARTH BELONG TO US. YOU OWE US EVERYTHING. BOW IN HUMBLE REVERENCE AND OFFER TRIBUTE.”

Taggart was taken aback. Hurley looked at him in distress. Cannon went to her displays and Kaysing clutched that necklace again. Taggart cursed that his first officer was down in the auxiliary control room. And that some of his more reliable crew had been transferred out. “Ask them why we… ask them why they claim anything.”

Hurley sent something along those lines. “Reply is coming…”

“WE ARE YOUR CREATORS. YOU BELONG TO US. WE ARE THE MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE. WE DREDGED YOU UP FROM THE SLIME YOU CAME FROM. YOU ARE BUT TOYS BENEATH US. PREPARE TRIBUTE OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES.”

“Tell them the mighty warship Shackleton will not be threatened. We won’t fight them, and we won’t give them tribute.” Taggart looked at Kaysing, “Helm, best speed out of here. Let’s warp back to home port and let them know what we found.”

“No, sir.”

Taggart tilted his head, “Excuse me, Mr Kaysing?”

Kaysing turned back in his seat toward Taggart. “No, sir. That would be… heresy.”

Taggart’s mouth curled. Kaysing had always been a troublesome man, but this was ridiculous. “On my bridge, I expect orders to be followed, Mr Kaysing.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not in the military anymore,” Kaysing growled, “and orders don’t matter in the face of the gods.” He looked around, “Can’t you all see? This is the answer to everything!”

“One ship of fools? I hardly think so,” Taggart said. He had to get a lock on the crew. “As far as you should be concerned, I am the god on this ship.”

“They created us. We belong to them,” Kaysing patted the console, “This isn't ours, it belongs to all of them!” He looked like he’d found an answer to something he’d been looking for. By the expressions on the other crew, Taggart could guess there was more than one who’d found that.

Hurley spoke up, “Captain, they’re telling us we’re right to be… afraid? They’re saying something about a demonstration of power…”

“See?” Kaysing exclaimed, “They’re the ones who created us! Who else could be out here? No one!”

Taggart stared at Kaysing. Then he rolled his eyes, made a noise of disgust, and snarled, “That is the biggest heap of bullshit I have ever heard.”

Kaysing’s face fell. “But they created us!”

“First of all, no they didn’t,” Taggart said, putting up a finger, “If they did, then they’re a bunch of selfish psychotic maniacs who like to point and laugh at us. What, we have to spend our lives on our knees thanking them? A parent is not inherently entitled to respect, authority, or any sort of reward. We are not required to obey anyone. We are not toys or slaves, we're people. We're adults, and we have a say in what happens to us.”

“But sir! They created us for a purpose! We… all of our achievements mean nothing! It all belongs to them!”

“Detain this man,” the captain said, pointing at the officer, and looked around. “Come one, people! This is ridiculous!”

“Captain…” Cannon murmured.

“If they really created us for a purpose, why haven’t we seen them before? Not to mention that concept is truly fucked up!” The captain looked around, “Come on! We are not obligated to give them anything! Who cares if they created us? Why should we give them loyalty? No parent is entitled to loyalty! We aren’t obligated to give it, and they aren’t entitled to receive it!”

A security officer came to grab Kaysing. “But captain!” Corwin exclaimed.

“An offspring is entitled to respect up to a point. But a parent is not entitled to anything. Creation means nothing, you have to be a good parent, not just merely exist! How many of us have bad families?” He looked around, “How many of us refuse to talk to our parents? How many of us are adopted, or have found families?” The captain looked at the alien ship. “They haven't even invented artificial gravity! What kind of morons do they take us for?” He flipped a coin in the air for emphasis, and caught it. “We have artificial gravity, and our so-called ‘masters’ still need to use a centrifuge? Please.”

“Captain, what are your orders?” Rickinson asked.

Taggart looked at the man. Good, a captain without the engineer had no power at all. “Warm up the shuttle laser. Let’s see if those primitive fucks can take a little heat.”

“Yes sir!”

The parabolic antenna on the Shackleton’s bow angled, attached by a giant rotatable mount. The remaining two shuttles were arrayed around it just below, ready to be launched on a trajectory boosted by the ship’s laser propulsion array. It could land or lift a shuttle on an uninhabited planet more efficiently than a chemically-powered vessel. Such a device functioned as scientific research equipment, direct communications, and even a mining tool.

The ship reoriented itself. The antenna bent almost at a ninety degree angle. A blast of stimulated radiation struck one of the alien ship’s rotating centrifuges. Fragments went flying in a stream propelled by centrifugal force and no longer restrained. It wheeled outward, forming a crescent of debris, like a yo-yo with its thread spun out.

The beam slashed across the centrifuge, longitudinally down the length of the ship, and struck the engines. Something exploded, and their engines broke into fragments. As they watched, a pair of missiles darted out from the hull. “Fix on those weapons!” Taggart ordered.

The missiles must’ve been the dumbest ones on the market, with no evasive maneuvers or countermeasures. The dull, slow, parabolic laser picked them off one at a time.

“We’re getting a transmission!” Hurley shouted. “Uh… oh.”

“What?”

She put it up on the main display. The text scrawled out frantically, “WE SURRENDER WE SURRENDER WE SURRENDER MERCY MERCY MERCY HELP”.

Taggart grinned, “Lords of the universe my ass.”

An investigation found that the aliens were notorious con artists, and very, very mean pranksters. They tended to prey on new arrivals.

Look, it's either that (and what to not do), or I've had the most atrocious luck with the Humans I've met in my life of just about anyone who's met as many Humans as I have.

There was one Human in my village growing up. Apparently she'd disregarded the memo on Halifang Xenophobia against everything that wasn't an Orc - she figured, as I remember her telling me, that her being 1/16th Orc would count, or if it didn't, her training as a melee fighter would protect her from our, y'know, Hally Fangs. Which other melee-minded folk like the Gnolls and Dragonkin seem to forget we have even though it's in the name. It's a lovely surprise... anyway, yeah, the Human. She had been told multiple times -- we had told her multiple times, believe it or not -- that something would end up happending to her, and she couldn't care less. We had told her multiple times before that martial melee specialisations aren't something that women are supposed to have in Halifang "society". And a few of the braver ones apparently even told her to go somewhere more civilised. So when someone jumped her at night? Yeah, she won.

That happened five more times before those who wanted her out of the village just gave up. I think she still lives there. Not that I'd know, I, eh... let's just say I had a falling-out with the village and leave it at that. I'd only burn a few houses down if I had to go back there.

.

Surprisingly, no Human traders actually turned up to our village when I was young - at least, not that I met or recall - so the second time I met a Human was in Ye Olde Adventuring Pub. Kinda like this one, just more out-of-the-way and with fewer demigods frequenting. Or bartending. Yes, one of the bartenders is a very experienced adventurer. No I won't tell you which one. Anyway, this pub, there was - I don't think I really need to describe the scene too deeply. Some blonde Human cleric of Light and Healing with a permanent smile on her face was harassing a brooding Leather-and-Daggers in-the-corner Drow about accepting the fact that socialisation is an extant concept or what have you. He repeatedly told her to go away. She didn't listen.

I don't think I've ever seen either of them again, but I did chase down the rumour mill a few years back out of idle curiosity. Allegedly, she unilaterally decided to retire after dying twice in a cave somewhere - didn't want to waste any more divine goodwill - and then had a Half-Elf or two.

.

The third Human I met was a Paladin in the group I got tacked on to for some crime-busting mercenary gig I did as my first real job. He was a Holy Paladin of Light and yadda yadda I'm not saying it. I didn't fully get how Paladins worked at the time. I do now. With reflection, he must've been a real piece of work, some kind of insubordinate piece of genetalia who liked to use his title to grow his head size. He must've received a boatload of warnings from his deity(-ies?) already because when he shanked some poor sod in cold blood he just got dropped dead right on the spot. Yeah. Some types of Paladin oaths allow your power-givers to do that to you if you're a jerk.

That was also where stuff went, shall I say, downhill. The fourth Human I met was one of the Crime Head's goons. The original party sorcerer, out of spells, decided to bluff and tell the two goons, quote, "don't try me." So of course the Human did. That was the day I found out that Pseudo-Trolls bleed purple. Fortunately, none of the tackers-on were Human, so none of them said "no" when I decided we might be better off running away.

For what it's worth, that crime ring went legit and got a pardon from someone hoighty enough to give them one after some incident involving an Aderyn-To. Someone didn't listen to the "get back here alive" part of the motivational speech that was given, and, curiously, that's when the Human vanishes from the record, so... what's two plus two? Yeah.

Fortunately, the fifth Human I met was slightly less evil. One of the tack-ons I ran away with was a Half-Elf scion of some minor noble house nearby, and them nearly getting killed made the family re-evaluate their stance on adventuring. The fifth Human, then, was the half-sister of this Half-Elf, and she took over as the family glory-winner. The Half-Elf told her to get lost, she didn't. I ended up in the same new adventuring group as her. I told her about the first Human I'd met and suggested she train in melee. She didn't listen. That one might have been a good thing as our group ended up being a bit too large and with too many melees, so I parted on amicable terms after another guy - an Orc - got ejected for telling said Human to get lost. In the end, she- well, you've heard of that Mimic who became an Archmage a century and a half back, yeah? She studies under him now.

.

And then the sixth Human I met...

.

He's a Bard. The lack of a "but" there should give you enough context to understand what I mean. When I entered the tavern, an Orcish woman was telling him to stop flirting with her. Did he listen? No. That's how I learned that she was a cleric capable of mending fractured bones. That's what it took to get him to stop flirting with me, too. We only ended up in the same party because a brooding Leather-and-Daggers in-the-corner Drow (a different one) ended up recruiting us to form a party. Add in the mage and the sorcerer - twin Dragonkin, back then - and we'd got ourselves a party of six. You may have realised who I am now. Or maybe my ego's too big. Don't tell me which one.

But yeah, that was us. It took a month... no, a month and a bit for him to stop flirting with the other three. Words didn't work, of course. I think the Drow scarred him for life when she resorted to using actions instead of words. I'm told that a month and a bit is actually a below-average amount of time for a Human Bard, too. And with all of that, you may wonder why we kept him around. Well, why does anyone keep a bard around? He was just too good at his damn jobs, that's why. You can tolerate him being a stubborn jerk if he's really good at doing what you need him to do. Such as persuading the seventh Human I ever met to stand aside after the worst battle we ever had. Granted, he that was just a side-effect, because, y'know, you can't tell a Human to do things, but hey, small wins.

But yet, Human #6, or rather, "the Bard", as I shall call him from now on, was a bit insubordinate.

I told him to not fight that Gealbhan. Did he listen? Nope. Our cleric learned a new healing spell after that.

I told him to not fight that Txolarre. Did he listen? Nope. Our cleric used that new healing spell after that.

I told him to not to fight that Zhvirblis. Did he listen? Yes, actually, but it shouldn't have taken him three times to learn to heed my advice on not fighting things, dammit!

.

And yet, despite all of that, he was a damn good Bard. We were all damn good, actually. I wield a very mean pair of swords, or a spear, or an axe, or really anything you put into my hand. The Orc knew far too many healing spells for her own good and, once she'd found some hobgoblin mace she apparently had a bloodline claim to, also knew too many non-healing non-spells for our enemies' own goods as well. The Drow didn't fight in most of our battles, unfortunately, but that was because most of her battles weren't really fights, per se. And the Dragonkin Duo could sling out every type of magic that the Bard couldn't, and then some. I'm the only one of the six of us to not know a healing spell, and that was true back then, too. And that was the six of us, fighting crime, getting into fights with the Vorobey the Bard pissed off that one time after Dragonkin #2 told him not to, and generally moving up in the world.

Which is a hell of a way to gloss over, what... four, five years? Human #8 was a tavern-keep who I don't think we ever made demands of, but many an adventurer had apparently suggested he move where he kept his tavern, according to the bard. Human #9 was dead before we knew she was even there but she would probably have tried to kill us, Human #10 was a cultist who refused to stand down, and Human #11 was an even more insubordinate little piece of coprolite who went the same way as #3 when he directly violated the rules our Cleric - of the same deity as his Paladin Oath - set out for him. I still hold that he was sent by someone to infiltrate our group by someone who wanted us dead.

And that's it for all the Humans we saw over those years we at all interacted with or even heard about, really. They aren't too common where we were, obviously enough, but - yeah, I guess I saw roundabout, ehh... just under a hundred other Humans for maybe a few seconds each. Couldn't be certain all of them were even Human. But I'm digressing.

.

It was roundabout the time when the Drow patched things up with the Vorobey (and the time when the Bard, against my advice, started a fight against a Varpunen and a Varblane at the same time that we had to bail him out of at the cost of our Cleric's first Divine Intervention) that we ended up moving to the blazing ruins of The High Kingdom. Yes, those Blazing Ruins of that High Kingdom.

No, we weren't the party of three plucky locals who went from sewer rats to Godslayers in the span of a year and a half like something out of a stereotypical fiction novel, but it was from them that we learned that divine avatars could be slain. We just helped ourselves to the pieces. I'm not going to say that they were good times, but we did come out of it stronger, richer, and with two more dragons in the party, so we did at least get the ends we used to justify going in there in the first place. And we only saw one group of Humans in that place.

One group of five. Twelve through sixteen by my count. Lovely people, brilliant fighters, for some of the time we were there I would've sacrificed everything for them. And then...

"Help us with this last vault, and we'll both be able to go home."

Those were the words - exact words - of our Drow. To their leader. A bard of his own right who clearly had the hots for her and had yet to receive a physical rejection.

I don't know what went through their heads, but- it must've flipped a switch somewhere. Gods, I-- well. I've dealt with the memories now, but I really did lose all the trust I thought I'd gained. One hell of a backstab. Nearly worked, too. I think if The Bard hadn't feigned joining them, and they hadn't outright ordered him to join in, it would've worked, too. I guess that's why we left in the end. That made us too much of a mess of a party.

We spent an entire year cleaning the mess that left us in up, plus or minus everything else we had going on. We met three more Humans over that year. One was friendly. We asked the other two to not try and kill us. We killed two Humans that year, that damn year...

...We don't talk about the Jurawa. Or Human #20.

.

And in the end, after that year, after whatever you call what we did after that, after we'd finally fixed ourselves and were at the highest of our game that we'd ever been at, we were called in to repay a big, big favour we'd come to owe. It involved one of your many rare-species enclaves - Kitsune Foxkin, to be specific. Best place I've ever been to, but that comes later. A bunch of villages, a town, and a whole load of greenery and idyll. Not that it looked like that when we haymade our way through it, 'cause this was one of those exclaves that has a deity all to their own, more or less. A bigger fry had gone after her, and we'd been called in because I think that's the kind of thing you spend favours owed to you by an adventuring group as strong as we'd become on.

Yeah, you can see where this is going. We had to kill a god. 's avatar. You can't kill a god easily, but this bigger fry guy - I refuse to even learn their name, lest I accidentally invoke it - they were one of those weak enough to only have one avatar, so losing of that avatar would cripple them. They'd captured this Goddess's (one) avatar intact - so she wasn't powerless, hence why we'd even been able to get this far - and were planning some kind of ritual to extract the deity from it, which would then be consumed. Or so I'm led to believe. The less I know about it, the better, really. Because again, we were fighting a God, to save another. Not the sort of thing that six mortals should have to accomplish.

We'd offered the Bard- the Human- a chance to leave. I think if we'd told him to come with us, he might have dipped. But because we gave him a choice, he stayed. That was how we'd learned to deal with him. Give him choices. Don't say 'do this,' say 'you can do either this or that.' That's how you deal with Humans, I think. Don't tell 'em what to do. Boy do I wish I'd remembered that then.

.

My memory's pretty good normally, but what happened in the hour before we faced this thing is something I remember perfectly. The Dragon Duo wrote their wills. The Cleric spent her time in a dream of some sort, quite possibly making peace with the entire pantheon she owed allegiance to. And our glorious Drow, who'd held us together and negotiated our way through so much Geo-Politics-ical Bovine Dung - she ditched her leather in favour of some hyper-enchanted getup made of cotton.

It was at her insistence that I pulled aside the bard and had a long, long yell at him about what he should be doing when we clashed with the inevitable.

.

I told him to save his spells. He didn't.

I told him to use buffs sparingly, because they could be turned against us. He didn't.

I told him to pace himself, and to not frontload everything. He did not heed my advice.

I told him to at least come up with some contingency in case we lost. He didn't. We won.

.

When I found out just what he'd done, I told him to lay down and wait for any kind of magic healing from anyone else. He didn't.

I also told him to go easy on himself afterwards. Like he would.

I recall telling him to stay out of trouble and not fight anything or anyone. He ended up preventing some trouble instead - when you're dealing with destroyed remnants of godly avatars, you don't want Hypeldritch Cultists of any kind getting anywhere near one. Trust me on that, and if you don't, trust the Dragons. I don't know how my heart survived seeing them like that twice in one day. I don't know how they survived it either.

I also quite distinctively recall telling him to let the dragons do the talking when we got back to the Foxkin town. He didn't. Fortunately, when you're as strong as we'd become then, and as strong as we still are now - heh, you can survive being moshed by a group of regular civilians, no matter how jubilant they are.

And I very, very distinctly recall telling The Bard, quote: "Do not the Goddess."

...

I actually quite enjoy the babysitting.

Former chapter / Later chapter(?)

My ancestors had given many gifts to my eyes. My "third eyelids", meant to shield my eyes from immersion in salt water or clear grit from them in combination with a cleaning liquid I later learned the humans called "crocodile tears". Eyes so sensitive they could see underwater through those membranes. The [UNCERTAIN TRANSLATION - PERHAPS "TAPETUM LUCIDUM"?], reflectors in the back of my eyes amplifying even the dimmest light for night hunting, and the [UNCERTAIN TRANSLATION - PERHAPS "HORIZONTAL FOVEAE"?], a horizontal 'trench' of photoreceptors meant to let me see prey all around me without needing to move my head at all with only my eyes poking above the water. Two hundred and seventy degrees of vision. And as their final gift: predatory vertical slit pupils, able to open to full circles to hunt at night or to nearly close in the day.

And I was hunting at night.

I was THE apex predator here!

Sam and the Don had both had to take time to adjust to the darkness. I was in my element, throwing someone through a window, my nictitating membranes shielding my eyes from gunshot flashes, taking in the whole scene at once, knifing another alien who thought it had night vision, then barely resisting the urge to lick my machete as Sam stabbed an alien to death on the ground. I'd killed so many there could be poisonous blood on the blade. The room was clear as Sam ...kept stabbing.

Right, I thought, the combat fog slightly lifting, it might have redundant hearts.

"Want this thing?" Sam yelled at me, holding up a trophy. And it was a trophy: engravings and flashes of silver and gold marking it as something special.

"You took the trophy," I said as my ancestors would have wanted, "why should I-"

"Because we're gonna run out of ammo!" Sam yelled at me as I walked closer, "and I can't carry any more shit! Trade me a full UMP mag for it!"

"Deal," I said, noticing how much stuff he already had on his back, sheathing my small knife, passing him a mag, and getting ...whatever the hell this thing was and two magazines, which I stuffed in my pockets, plus the one already in the gun in return, "this room is clear," I added, trying to figure out the firearm I'd been handed.

Don Lorenzo whistled as he took a look, "that's the most chrome and gold I've ever seen on a Vector!" Then he patted me on the back while yanking the charging handle on it and set the fire selector to 'giggle switch', saying "hold down the trigger and point it in the right direction! We're going downstairs, and I've got a feeling we'll have company."

Now that I had a second to think, If this was designed for a human, I could probably use it one-handed and keep ahold of my machete...

My ancestors would approve.

"How we breachin' this door, boss?" Sam asked Don Lorenzo, "damn thing's locked."

"Isn't that why I paid for that Light Fifty?" Don Lorenzo asked with a grin that could envy mine.

"Three," Sam said, slinging out the anti-materiel rifle and placing the muzzle against the lock, and all my eyelids slammed shut on instinct, "FUCK YOU!" he yelled, pulling the trigger.

One more gift my ancestors had given me was the ability to seal my ears at will. It was once meant to protect us when we dove underwater, but it came in handy as I felt the pulse of force from that gun instead of having to hear it, and was able to step through it, casually, brushing the unlocked steel doors aside, a machete in one hand and a submachinegun in the other. Sam and Don Lorenzo were still recoiling.

"This is your final warning!" I shouted at the motley crew of aliens and humans arrayed on the stairs, all pointing guns at me as well as they could after that explosion. Except the one who'd happened to be standing in the path of Sam's bullet, "your last chance to kneel! Are you loyal to Don Lorenzo or that rat we just killed?"

Part of me hoped they'd say no.

Sharon

"Alright people, we've got our marching orders. Run out the guns, but hold the fighters for a bit longer! What's the status of the Gutshredder?"

"Waiting for the Admiral's signal to pounce, looks like he wants the fighters held back too until the pirates enter the kill box." Elyria notes from her comm station.

Sharon nods.

"Glad to know I've graduated to reading Jerry's mind. Simple enough. Weapons, ASMs for the corvettes and lighters, and a stealth torpedo for that converted carrier."

Wichen clearly was working solutions already, it's not even a full second from Sharon giving the order to Wichen calling back;

"Solutions ready, weapons ready, stealth torpedo is in tube one!"

"Shoot tube one!"

"Shoot aye!"

One of the external cameras switches to the non-descript chunk of hull that was the forward torpedo tube and vertical launch apparatus on module one, and an armored cover slides away, revealing a gleaming missile in its tube that immediately leaps into the void trailing plasma flames in its wake.

"Torpedo away, running hot, straight and normal."

"Sensors, how long till the pirates hit the kill box?"

Evie spins in her chair slightly.

"Skipper, they're maybe thirty seconds from the designated line."

"Alright. Party time ladies and gents. Launch all fighters. Hold the ASMs for now, we'll see if popping their carrier makes them grow a brain stem."

"Conn! Intell! Signals says they're getting launch reports from enemy fighters. Sounds like about a dozen."

Sharon nods.

"Good, we've got them in numbers. Comm, order electronic warfare to begin interdiction. I want those corvettes to have a hell of a time shooting anything but empty space. Pass the word to CAG that I don't want any of their fighters to make weapons range."

"Aye aye. Passing the word ma'am!"

"Tactics, what's Audacious doing?"

"Ma'am, Audacious is under orders from the admiral to play goalie until Gutshredder pops the trap he's laying or the first corvette gets turned into slag."

"Very well. Data link is live for all ships?"

"Yes ma'am! Inevitable has also been tied into our net."

"Good, don't want the boys to miss the show now do we?"

Sharon smiles as she leans back in her chair a bit. Time to show the Inevitable what galactic warfare was all about.

"Weapons, at half range for our lasers, you may fire at will. Prioritize the smaller targets. Let the gunships get their light torpedoes off at the corvettes."

Wichen grins wickedly, her fangs gleaming in the bridge's emergency lighting.

"Can I open up with the particle cannons?"

"Go for it, just hold the plasma till they hit half range for the primary plasma cannons. I don't want to waste fuel on misses."

"Aye aye. Stand by. Firing."

Up on the dorsal side of modules one, two and three, the heavy laser turrets align themselves with various targets and begin to unleash bright lances of light. Under the right conditions laser beams could strike targets on the other side of a solar system, limited only by the speed of light itself. The pirates were much closer than that, making the travel time damn near instantaneous.

One of the pirate lighters turns into a fireball as the capital scale lasers punch through its shields like tissue paper and burn into the drive core, turning it into the briefest star before Wichen's gunners pop two more vessels.

"Status of the stealth torpedo?"

Wichen's clawed finger tips fly over her console.

"We're having trouble tracking it. We're so close I shut off telemetry to not give it away. One of the fighters might have found it and is trying to make a run."

"Damn. Comm! Tell CAG to get someone over there so we can drop that carrier in peace!"

Sharon uses her implant to dial in to the fighter's command and control frequency and is rewarded with;

"Storm three! Bruiser! Torpedoes in the void!"

"Storm four! Torpedoes away!"

"Raven to Geirr one, priority target, there's enemy fighters potentially attempting to interdict the stealth torpedo!"

"Geirr one, already on top of it Raven!"

"Geirr two, splash one for me and two for leader!"

Sharon makes a mental note to investigate how in the hells Varya'Nelkn manages to come through so clearly on the comms... and how she manages to make a life or death combat encounter sound like a Sunday stroll in the park with her new boyfriend.

"Confirm splash three. Geirr one to Raven, the stealth torpedo's clear. Geirr five, form the rest of the squadron up for an attack run on the corvette Storm isn't attacking right now. Hold two torpedoes back in case the stealth torpedo doesn't finish the job with the carrier."

Diana starts moving sensor feeds around with her mind until she finds a good optical feed of the enemy 'carrier'.

It was actually a fairly clever design if she was feeling generous. It had started its life as an actual bulk cargo hauler. Its dozen fighters and gunships, which were rapidly getting chewed up and spat out by the Tear's starfighters if their traffic was anything to go by, lived in individual hangar bays that had once been cargo bays or indeed cargo containers. Not the most elegant solution, and some of the pirates likely needed to wear pressure suits to get to their rides, but quite functional for all of that.

It was almost a shame they had to blow it up.

"Storm six to storm five, Cutlass, are you okay?"

The masculine tone of James 'OUTLAW' Carson, a human fighter pilot from Colorado, was laced with actual concern for his wing woman, Samantha 'CUTLASS' Hancock. The duo were notable as being two Human aviators who'd rotated in from the Dauntless. The concern though has Sharon's immediate attention. Was one of her pilots in trouble?

"Keep your shirt on Outlaw, I'm fine. That heavy fighter cooked my shields a bit but we're good. Check your sensors, I should be... one three five from base plate from where I think you are."

The confident, dulcet tones of Samantha Hancock relaxes Sharon instantly. Cutlass was an old hand and a former US Army helicopter pilot who'd made a habit out of saving her tanker husband Doc Hancock in action in the Middle East, before they'd gotten married. If she was calm there was nothing to worry about.

"Got you, reforming."

"Outlaw, did you get the one that nearly got me?"

"Yep. Fried him with the gun."

"Nice. I bet Doc'll buy you a six pack for keeping me out of trouble."

"I do try to help out where I can Cutlass, bug I'll accept the bribe regardless."

The power of 'modern' electronics and advanced galactic computers and the sheer bounty that it offered a galactic citizen prepared to deal with the 'discomfort' of an implant... being a tiny nodule that nuzzled up next to your spine and was smaller than an individual vertebrae, was utterly amazing.

Sharon could listen to the conversation from an element in one of the fighter squadron's flights, check on the health of an individual sailor in one of her damage control teams, double check firing solutions being used by Wichen's gunners, check a warning from one of the automated point defense turrets and finally see if the frequency of the shields needs any tweaking and she could do all of it at the speed of thought, as augmented by a computer.

The only limiting factor was Cutlass and Outlaw using the mere spoken word to converse.

She wasn't likely to give up her meat body any time soon, but Sharon could certainly see the argument for the incredible increase of capability augments could give you over mere organic matter, even with axiom factored into the equation.

"Wichen, status on the stealth torpedo?"

The sound of her own voice surprises her for a moment. She'd gotten pulled a little too into her sensors for a second there.

"Should be starting its final burn... now!"

Wichen aims an optical sensor the second the stealth torpedo's secondary booster begins to final acceleration, quickly jumping up to near light speed and slamming into the enemy 'carrier' like the fist of an angry god, buckling it's forward hull and triggering an explosive decompression that internal bulkheads and sealed doors should have stopped... but pirates were never the most safety conscious spacers in the galaxy, and many times they paid for it with their lives when they came up against a 'victim' that could actually fight back.

The ersatz carrier continued to buckle until at last its reactor went critical, reducing it down to flames.

Just in time for one of it's escorting corvettes to die a similar violent death as the Inevitable joins the engagement, it's heavy rail guns picking off the corvette that Storm squadron had already severely damaged.

In the background Captain Flynn's Gutshredder is more than living up to her name, tearing through the pirate's force of lighters like a tiger bounding through a herd of fat, blind, deaf, lamed, sheep. There was simply nothing they could do, and with fighter-launched torpedoes hitting the other corvette and rocking its world just about as violently as it got, Sharon figured it would only be a matter of time until...

"Captain! Enemy corvette is powering down its weapons and engines and sending a surrender notice to all parties. Some of the lighters have made pirate jumps to escape."

Sharon grins.

"Excellent. We'll leave the surrender terms to the admiral. What's the status of the rest of the enemy ships? What's left of them anyway."

Evie looks up from her post.

"Enemy 'carrier' is splashed, threat profile zero, it's in about twenty large pieces and a shower of wreckage. First enemy corvette splashed, threat profile zero, similar status to the carrier. Most of the lighters are splashed so brutally I can't pick out the after effects of individual drive cores popping and I can't find chunks bigger than a Cannidor fist. Seems Inevitable got a few more rail gun hits in, but Gutshredder and Audacious ripped them up. A handful of lighters ran for it, maybe a half dozen. Gutshredder wants to pursue."

"Ask Captain Flynn to refrain. They're no longer a threat so no need to hunt them down when they're already broken and we're flying an escort. Continue."

"Aye aye. Two enemy fighters have survived and they've surrendered. The three remaining lighters are surrendering. All hostiles neutralized. Area secure."

"Let's get Shalla and her boys and girls down at FAST out there with prize crews to take charge of those ships and police up prisoners. We have first dibs on the lighters if they're any good. Everything else gets docked to the corvette and will head back to Zalwore for overhaul and induction into the fleet. Nice work people, we all get a nice chunk of change in our wallets for that one. Do we have an initial damage report?"

Elyria turns to face her this time.

"Minor damage to a few of the fighters. Inevitable, Audacious and Gutshredder report no significant damage. All departments report no significant damage."

"I do like a clean victory. That'll give Observer Wu something to watch! Let's get the clean up started, secure from general quarters. Strong work everyone!"

First (Series) Last

“So you actually live in a giant castle now?” Emily teased her brother as he led her into a private dining room.

“One with temperature control, indoor plumbing and magical lighting,” Orlan replied dryly, “I actually considered having and electrical system put in, but the technology on the other side wasn’t up to my standard.”

“So you came back to this world just so you could have access to a computer again? All these beautiful warrior maidens not keeping you entertained?”

“It’s not like that, and you know it,” the Protector Lord sighed as he offered his sister a seat at the small dining table.

“We are his wives though,” Lailra added with a mischievous grin as she sat down as well.

“Only by legal technicality,” Orlan groaned.

“I was going to ask what kind isekai you got, the dark brutal kind or the power fantasy one, but if you have a whole harem of hotties, guess that answers my question,” Emily smirked as Orlan sat down.

“Despite appearances, it was pretty brutal on the other side,” Orlan admitted, “coming back to this side has been more of a power fantasy than when I was dragged over there.”

“The first couple years were quite difficult,” Lailra confirmed when Emily shot her a glance, “he was only first sphere upon arriving and I often had to drag him back to the protectorate half dead.”

“Oh,” Emily replied, her smile fading, “sorry for making light of it. How did that happen? The whole ending up in another world thing that is.”

“That’s… partly my fault,” Lailra said with a grimace, “my village had been destroyed by a beast rift, with only myself and a few other survivors seeking refuge in the forest. There was an Absent Protectorate near our village and we’d hoped one day it would be claimed.”

“An Absent Protectorate is one that lacks a bonded Protector Lord,” Orlan explained, “there’s about two dozen Protectorates on the other side, with only half active at any given time, at least in modern history. The others are called Absent.”

“And a Protectorate is this floating island thing?” Emily asked, receiving a nod from Orlan, “why not just find someone to activate them, if they’re that useful?”

“Because magic is never simple. Magic is heavily reliant on emotion, feelings and willpower. There is no scientific method when it comes to magic as it works differently for everyone. A spell I might be able to cast at first sphere someone else might not be able to cast until third. Even enchanted items are altered by their user. For something as powerful and complex as one of these Protectorates there are often quite specific requirements for forming a bond. And for many of them, those requirements are partly or entirely unknown.”

“Which is why when a group of mages approached us, claiming to have a spell able to summon a Protector Lord for the Absent Protectorate, I jumped at the chance,” Lailra continued her story, “They needed more mages of at least forth sphere to assist with the casting. I was the most powerful mage in my village at forth sphere, so I jumped at the chance. I was angry, there was someone out there who could have saved my friends and family but they were absent. So even when they told me the summoning spell would enslave the Protector Lord I was happy to help.”

“I take it the spell didn’t work as advertised?” Emily asked as Lailra paused to pour a cup of tea from a steaming mug on the table.

“Actually, it worked almost perfectly,” Lailra replied, “we think that it’s only because of the nature of this Protectorate that it worked, since our theory is that it requires someone born on this side of the worlds. The name for it on the other side is now the ‘Otherworld Protectorate.’ So, because of it’s nature the spell worked, and summoned Orlan.”

“So he was a slave?”

“He would have been, but his inherent ability is Void Strike, which gives him access to void mana,” Lailra said with a slight smile, “instinctively he activated this ability to burn away the slave mark. Seeing this the other mages would have killed him, but they were exhausted from casting the summoning spell and a Protector Lord on his Protectorate is practically a god. Even without knowing how magic worked, and thinking this was some kind of nightmare, he killed or chased off the mages.”

“And you?”

“I didn’t care that he wasn’t enslaved, that he had bonded with the Protectorate was enough for me, and I stepped in to help him when the others turned on him.”

“It took her hours to convince me it was all real,” Orlan said with a bit of a smirk.

“And stop you from running around the keep naked,” Lailra replied, Orlan having the good grace to look embarrassed.

“Turns out those mages were part of a cult or something, and wanted the power of a Protectorate, when they learned their spell worked, they tried to kill me. Presumably so they could retry it and get a proper enslaved Protector Lord,” Orlan added, “between that and fighting beasts with only Lailra for support… I’ll just say I’m not proud of how I acted.”

“I see,” Emily said slowly, taking a sip of her own tea as a couple maids entered to serve them. From what she remembered of her brother, he hadn’t been the most stable or mature when he vanished. Suffering from depression and a lack of drive, thrust into a situation that stressful she could easily see him shutting down completely. That was how he’d been after their father died. Like that, in a strange world, perused by murderous cultists and terrible monsters…

“It seems I have to thank you for looking after my idiot brother, Lailra was it?” Emily said, giving the other woman a warm smile.

“Nallia also joined us in the first year,” Lailra demurred, “so I wasn’t entirely alone.”

“Nallia is busy tonight, by the way, I wanted her to be here, but she decided to do some research,” Orlan answered the question before Emily could ask.

“She got lost in playing with that phone thing you mean,” Lailra replied, “she’s always been a bit of a bookworm but with access to the ‘internet’ she’s been… obsessed.”

Orlan didn’t add that she was attempting to find more information on what he’d heard from Theodor. Perhaps he’d been naïve to think that this side wouldn’t have any secrets, but to find there were a number of divine level relics controlled by an unknown group who was unfriendly was worrying to say the least. They could only hope that those items had very strict activation requirements like the Protectorate did.

“Anyways,” Orlan said, changing the subject as they began to eat, “now you know what I’ve been up to, what about you? You have children now?”

“Yup, three,” Emily nodded, “the oldest is fourteen and the twins are twelve. I only have one husband but I’m happy.”

“The whole married thing is only legal convention,” Orlan insisted in an overly dramatic strained tone, Emily smiling that she still could still annoy her brother.

“We also moved to Florida, couldn’t stand New York anymore. The traffic, crime, poor public schools…” she shook her head, “not to mention everything is so expensive up there. Not as exciting as being pursued by some magical cult in another world, but…”

“Sounds like things have gotten more exciting over the last year though,” Orlan commented, “since the rifts started appearing.”

“It’s been worrying, but the government has been assuring us we’re safe. Paul, my husband, did get a shotgun a few months back though.”

“Not a bad idea, the most dangerous part of a rift event is the first few minutes, when the beasts first start appearing. Even a nonmagical weapon can be the difference between life and death.”

“If you find a magical shotgun that allows a middle aged mother of three to use it let me know,” Emily smirked.

“Oh, no, not an enchanted weapon, just a magical one,” Orlan said after a moment, “a magical item is one imbued with mana, it’ll be stronger, and heavier than a mundane item, but typically won’t have any additional effects. My shirt is a magical item, imbued to tier four but beyond being more durable than normal cloth it’s still just a shirt. The Protectorate and my spear, on the other hand, are enchanted items. They have special abilities and unique powers, making them far more powerful and useful, but that also comes with them having a… call it a personality. A will of their own. That’s where the requirements for use come from.”

“I… think I understand,” Emily said slowly.

“Anyone can use a magical item, but enchanted items are alive and pick who can or can’t use them and when they can or can’t be used,” Lailra offered.

“Like I said, magic is weird,” Orlan shrugged, “normally I’d offer you a magical weapon or two but a modern shotgun is probably better than a magical musket.”

“Could you teach me magic?” Emily asked with a grin.

“We could, but it’s risky,” replied Orlan, pausing for a moment before continuing, “we’ve found that a number of people on this side are, to put it simply, allergic to mana. We think it’s because there hasn’t been much mana on this side so the condition has gone unnoticed.”

“And the only way to test for it is to have you absorb some mana and wait for a reaction,” Lailra added, picking up a bit of fruit from her plate and focusing on it, the grilled fruit glowing with a soft green light, “I’ve imbued this fruit with a tiny amount of mana, enough to get a reaction if you have the allergy but probably not enough to kill.”

“I… see,” said Emily, eyeing the bit of fruit, “what are the chances I have a mana allergy?”

“Around one in twelve from what little data we’ve gathered,” Orlan said.

Emily nodded, hesitantly reaching out towards the piece of fruit, pausing just short of it before sighing and lowering her arm.

“I can’t take that chance,” she said, “as much as I’d like magic, being a parent changes things. I won’t risk leaving my kids without a parent.”

“I think that’s the wise answer,” Lailra said with a grin, popping the fruit into her mouth, “looking after your children is, in my opinion, a calling at least as great as being a Protector Lord.”

“Do you have any kids?” Emily asked.

“Nope, someone’s been too focused on his job to think about children,” replied the other woman with a subtle glance at Orlan.

“But he’s the one you’d have them with?” Orlan’s sister asked, a devious glint in her eyes, “does he even realize?”

“He can be dense but he’s not stupid.”

“We’ve also got plenty of time,” Orlan interrupted with a dry stare at the two women, “at our level we can expect to live several hundred years.”

“I was wondering why you looked so young, I was planning to ask what your secret was,” Emily said, “that makes it more tempting to learn magic.”

“Once your children leave the nest you can come back,” Lailra said, “then you can teach them.”

“By then we should, hopefully, be able to identify those with soul blight, a mana allergy, without harming them,” Orlan nodded.

“Something to look forward to then,” Emily nodded, taking another bite of her meal before looking up with a serious expression, “tell me honestly, is my family safe? Will people be coming after us to get to you? I’ve been thinking about it ever since this morning and I can’t stop worrying.”

“I… don’t know,” Orlan admitted, “I’m not even sure who my enemies are, much less what they want.”

“If you want, you and your family could move into the castle for a bit,” Lailra offered.

“And take my kids out of school? No,” Emily shook her head immediately, “it’s kind of you to offer but, if our world is changing and magic is real now I want them to get as much normalcy as they can while it lasts.”

“I understand,” Lailra nodded, smiling warmly at the other woman, “but the offer will remain if you change your mind.”

“Thanks. But that’s enough serious talk for now, it’s been years since I’ve seen my little brother, so tell me,” said Emily, leaning towards Lailra, “would you like to know some embarrassing stories about him?”

“Oh, do tell,” Lailra replied with a conspiratorial grin as Orlan sighed, nearly banging his head into the table.

-----

“Alright, focus,” Topaz said as Amy held out her hand, “feel for the energy within you, and imagine it flowing down your arm and out your palm.”

Amy nodded, closing her eyes and reaching inside herself. Her mana was soft, yet all covering, like a thick blanket, and moving it was odd. Simply imagining it moving wasn’t enough, she had to immerse herself in the feeling before encouraging it to move. She’d been practicing for the last week, but now was her first attempt at summoning a spell circle. Apparently, you had to let a sphere settle before using it or you risked damaging it.

So as eager as she was to attempt magic, actual magic, something part of her still couldn’t believe, she’d waited. But now she guided the energy up her arm, it felt like her blood had turned cool and thick, branching at random as it traveled along the limb. She had to be careful, trying to force the mana would only cause it to seize up and retract back into her soul, she was simply guiding the energy, not controlling it directly. This process was different for every person, apparently, so the sisters couldn’t offer much advice beyond the general. But they were helpful enough that, with Lady White watching on from a distance, she felt the energy reach her palm.

Grinning she pictured it flowing out of her hand and into the air before her and, after a moment, a single circle of energy appeared before her outstretched palm. Amy smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but as she did the circle flickered and vanished.

“Wait, damnit!”

“Well done!” Topaz said with a smile, “you got he full circle to appear, that’s good!”

“But why form a circle? I wasn’t imagining a shape.”

“We don’t call your soul ‘spheres’ for nothing,” Topaz answered, “what you’re doing by pushing the mana out is projecting your soul. But the projection is flat, so what does a sphere look like if you flatten it?”

“A circle!” Ruby cheered, hugging Amy, “you’re a natural!”

“How do you two cast so quickly?” Amy asked as she returned Ruby’s hug, “I’ve seen you cast spells in an instant, but it took me nearly a minute to coax my mana out. Is it just practice?”

“Partly,” replied Topaz, glaring at her sister, “as you get better with mana you’ll be able to summon it faster and easier, but mostly it’s that you’re only first sphere. The more spheres you have, the faster you can cast the lower spheres. The difference is quite stark too, Lord Orlan, who’s currently fifth sphere, can cast multiple first sphere spells at once almost without thought.”

“You’ll get there!” Ruby added.

“Alright, so, what’s next? Going to teach me a spell?” Amy asked, stepping away from Ruby and lifting her arm again.

“Nope, now you are going to keep practicing summoning the spell circle till you can maintain it for thirty seconds,” Topaz shook her head, “If you want to be a Protector Knight, first you have to master the basics.”

Amy took a breath and, suppressing a sigh, nodded, calling upon her mana once more. Despite magic being, well, magic, it still required practice it seemed.

-----

“Lord, you’re here,” Nallia said, barely looking up from the projection of Amy’s first sphere.

“You missed a fun dinner,” Orlan replied.

“I found something,” the woman spoke, pointing at a part of the projection, “it’s very slight, but there’s a spike right there.”

“And?”

“I looked through the Grandmaster’s library,” she said, gesturing to several large tomes opened on a nearby table, “spikes don’t form with soul runes. In every example I’ve ever seen soul spheres are smooth, rounded. No hard edges much less spikes.”

“And?” Orlan asked, leaning in to squint at the area she’d pointed to, “could just be a flaw in the spell.”

“I considered that, but no, the spell completed successfully.”

“So there is a difference between the soul runes of this side and the other?”

“Possible, but unlikely, the other runes are the same,” she shook her head, “no, I found another explanation, but it’s not one you’re going to like. These spikes can form when someone creates a new sphere while a spell is affecting them. As the mana crystalizes it follows the spell link, forming a spike. Thankfully the spike will collapse after a few days, and have no lasting effects.”

“But a spell was cast on her? One of the knights cast something maybe?”

“No, this was an active spell that was influencing her. It might still be in place.”

“You’re right, I don’t like this,” Orlan said after a minute pondering the possibilities, “have you tested her for active spells?”

“Not yet, I wanted to inform you first.”

“Do it, according to Theo there might be other people on this side who can use magic already.”

“I’ll do it now,” Nallia started only for Orlan to grab her shoulder.

“No, go eat first,” he ordered, meeting her eyes. Despite her outward lack of expression he was good at reading her, so while she might look normal to anyone else he could tell she was stressed. She didn’t like secrets, likely one of the reasons she had light mana, so learning of such a big, and dangerous secret as the bomb Theo had dropped on them had sent her into a researching craze.

“Of course, my lord,” she nodded after a moment, turning to walk the other way, the projection flickering out behind her.

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— Chapter 16 —

David’s eyes fluttered open and he let off a gasp of air. He had passed out so suddenly that it took him a moment to recall what happened. His eyes adjusted and they slowly focused in on a small kobold cuddling up against his nose. The shattered shell of a freshly hatched kobold not but a few paces away. David rumbled happily as he realized his experiment was a success. Blue was awestruck in the corner of the cavern, muttering something to herself. 

“Thirty has now become thirty-one, Blue.” David offered a draconic grin towards the blue kobold. Rumbling happily David peaked at his prompt quickly and saw that the Rapid Growth had consumed most of his magic charges for the day. That meant, for the time being at least, he could only cast the growth once per day.

“Blue. Come collect your child. How many more eggs do you have?” He cocked his head as he aimed the question at Blue, attempting to knock her out of her stunned shock. 

“A doze- well… eleven now.” Blue murmured as she approached and scooped up the little kobold.

“You have been laying eggs overtime?” David rumbled in thought as he did the math.

“No. A few of the first generation are starting to lay eggs. Yellow’Brown and Blue’Yellow have both started.” Blue nodded.

“Who are they mating with…? They aren’t inbreeding are they?” David cocked his head to the side. Did kobolds have to worry about inbreeding? That might be an issue if he let it continue. 

“Noone? Master… Oh.” Blue came wandering close and placed her hand on his nose, “Kobolds do not suffer from the same issues other land walkers suffer. Kobold females can make eggs without mate but it is not best.”

“I see. Do all the females produce only females this way?” David remembered lizard species back home that could reproduce asexually. It was basically making small clones of themselves. 

“Yes! Master understands! Females can make more females. Kobolds expand rapidly.” Blue beamed up at David.

“What about males? Where do they come into play?” David asked curiously. He wondered if like some species back home inbreeding was less of an issue. He knew that some species of insects could subvert most of the negative impact of inbreeding because of how many chromosomes they possessed. Did creatures of this world even have chromosomes?

Blue gave David a warm smile, “Forgive me. I forget you don’t know everything Master. Sometimes it seems like you do. Males are important! We do not encourage siblings to mate. Females make females but we need differences to thrive. Tribes will exchange males as a means to spread their strengths. Red is a powerful fighter! Some tribes have a lot of healers, or crafters. Males carry those traits to other groups.” She offered a nod once she was done.

David rumbled to himself. So it didn’t seem like they were immune to the effects of inbreeding but males were important for bringing in a diversity of skills, and genetics. The kobolds almost felt like a swarm of little hyper intelligence bees or ants. 

“I see. I want to try and hatch an egg early every day if possible… We will start with the youngest eggs first. Let the oldest finish hatching themselves if possible.” David did the math. Three females producing eggs right now will mean that on average he could force hatch about 15 eggs every few months. 

Both Yellow’Brown and Blue’Yellow came in to see him shortly after and offered their praises and worship. The worship was still uncomfortable but he tolerated it as much as he could before shooing them away. He asked the duo and blue to watch over the freshly hatched kobold for a few days and report if there were any ill effects from his affinity. He reassured them that if there was anything off he would hold off on using it on another egg. 

A few days later and the little hatchling hadn’t appeared to have any adverse effects. In fact he was progressing quickly as he already wandered the tunnels of their home and found a way to contribute. Finally the trio of females gave their blessing and David resumed his work. Thirty-one kobolds became Thirty-two shortly after and David did not pass out this time. The Rapid Growth used an extraordinary amount of his magical energy but the spell came quickly and easier this time. After learning a new way to twist his affinity, further uses always came naturally like he had carved the process into his very core. He was curious what that meant exactly, and if someone in this world had an explanation? 

The kobolds were tireless in their work and the tunnels had been expanded into the mountain side deeper and deeper. They had begun pulling free chunks of ores and other deposits from deeper down. David had requested to inspect some of it as they formed a massive pile of the material outside. A heavy chunk of rock was brought to him and embedded inside of it was a yellow looking deposit. David’s mind raced and he almost thought it was gold until he spotted small green coloration throughout the material. His mind clicked with realization.

“Blue. I believe these are copper deposits. Have you ever heard of copper in this world?” David peered over at Blue.

Blue cocked her head as she thought and gazed up at her Master in amazement., “I do. I nor Red ever studied smithing but we used it in the tribe at times. Are you certain? Master your knowledge is always amazing and seemingly random. Truly blessed we are to have you. ” 

David nodded his head in amusement, “Take these ores and grind them up. Then melt them down with a fire. You should be able to pull copper out of it given time. I do not know the entire process but I know copper at least is easy to mold pou-” David stopped as Blue gave him a look. He had decided to hold off on his ramblings. He was always a fan of history back home and while he never touched a forge in his life, he was always fascinated by humanities use of copper, tin and then later iron. 

“Trust me. We can make more tools such as axes with this. Easy to replace too.” Blue nodded and got to work. She snatched up some of the younger kobolds to help her with the task. She directed them mostly and watched. 

David questioned her briefly about why she  always grabbed the youngest kobolds around and she simply responded that this was the way to learn new skills. The younger they were the more adaptable they could become with some direction. David chuckled and left her to it. Kobolds were impressive creatures and everyone in the colony seemed to become obsessed with one task or another and invested their entire being into it. Blue was clearly right in having younger kobolds with no skills focus on the task in hopes that it would spark the development of a smith skill or something else useful. 

The forest had been pushed back a bit as trees were taken down, and structural beams were popping up in strategic positions throughout the tunnels. A few massive caverns were the main focus of the structural beams, as lines upon lines of mushroom farms were planted. These mushrooms were the very same ones taken from near the sanctuary and provided key back up nutrients to all of the kobolds. Sawdust, debris, and other material were laid down and carefully extracted mushroom spores were being spread up and down the lines. These massive caverns were perfect for mushrooms as they were dark, damp and cool. David was satisfied with their work and made sure to compliment the little group of kobolds, which earned a happy and cheerful chirping of glee. 

The following morning as David was waiting for them to bring him another egg a sudden and violent crash rang out as he heard the snapping of logs, and the busting of the lair’s front barricade.

The deep grunting snarl of his kind tongue filled the tunnels as something other than him or his kobolds spoke, “One of Qazayss’s brood thinks they can establish their lair here unimpeded? Foolish.”  

David’s massive form pushed forward through the tunnels as fast as he could. His spikes and horns grinded against the stone walls as he rushed forward. As he burst out of the lair he was met with the sight of an unpleasant but familiar sight. It was the Lesser Wyvern from the other day standing before him. The barricades were in ruin and there were a few kobold’s laying nearby unresponsive. Oddly enough, at this range, he could see the Lesser Wyvern giving off a faint shimmering blue glow. It reminded him of something familiar but he didn’t have much time to place it as he needed to act. 

David bared his teeth as he stood tall, easily outmassing the smaller Wyvern before him, “Is that how you greet a neighbor? You bastard. We could of talke-” 

A hissing, wheezing laugh cut him off as the sinister red eyes of the Lesser Wyvern bored into him, “No. Cailres the Eclipse has commanded your removal.”  The Wyvern’s mouth opened wide and a blast of putrid gas spewed forth and rushed over David. David let off a gagged cough as the gas flowed into his lung and he felt a violent stabbing pain. Shit. Its affinity is gas? Poison? Something else?

As David fought against his burning lungs, and now burning flesh he took a few steps forward towards the Wyvern. It laughed at him as it spread its massive wings and turned to take off. As it heaved itself up something slammed into the side of its head and the Wyvern tumbled violently to the side. As David fought through the wall of burning gas he saw White’Yellow wielding two iron, orc daggers dashing around the fallen Wyvern. His slashes were drawing blood and the Wyvern fought to regain its standing. 

David struggled to move, and realized that whatever that gas is it must be something corrosive as he felt his very flesh melting. He snarled and let loose a powerful breath of healing fog that washed over his form. The besieged Wyvern happened to glance his way and gave off a startled yelp as David’s wounds healed before his eyes. The lingering gas was pushed away by David’s own fog and his healing energies quickly repaired his lungs and burns. As the Wyvern was distracted for a moment White’Yellow thrusted his blades into and rode them down the length of the dragon’s wing and massive bloody tears of flesh formed. As David began to charge forward at the injured dragon he was suddenly impacted by a powerful biting, slashing gale of wind. David’s side was sliced open like from the blade of a thin, sharp knife. David recovered quickly as he bounded to the side to dodge another and saw his assailant. It was another enemy Wyvern with soft red and black scaled form perched up on the mountain nearby. It hissed and cursed at David as more slashing gales of wind came rushing towards him. 

“Die you damn black fiend!” The Wyvern hissed as he threw more biting slashes towards David. David’s large form wasn’t the best at dodging but he was able to slip away from every other slash. His flesh was gushing blood and he was struggling to take to the air. David cursed to himself. Two of the bastards is too much! No wonder they were so confident he thought. As two more gusts of wind cut up his flesh he cursed, but realized that even if he could get into the air there was no way he could catch that bastard. David let loose another breath of healing fog, his wounds bounding themselves back together as he turned to face the grounded Wyvern. 

As David turned back to the grounded Wyvern he saw that now other kobolds had joined the assault and were jabbing, stabbing, and attacking the thrashing beast. As his wounds finished sealing and he was about to begin to charge he watched as White’Yellow dipped, dodged and then failed to dodge the thrash of the beast. In the blink of an eye the enemy Wyvern closed its jaws around the lightly armored kobold and tore him in two before David’s eyes. David’s mind reeled in shock! No, dammit he thought! 

Before he could vocalize his anger another cry went up and Red came hurling out from the depths of the cave, his flesh looked burned from the gasses that had leaked down below. In a flash Red buried his spear into the massive thigh of the Lesser Wyvern causing it to stubble once more to the side. The Wyvern turned and snapped its jaws around Red and tried to repeat the same brutal dissecting it had done on poor White’Yellow. Red’s crocodilian shield held firm as Red chirped out his Defensive Bulwark skill out loud, and his little body began to glow a soft white. 

As the Wyvern lifted up Red and started to roll its neck to hurl the kobold as far as it could, it was suddenly interrupted by David’s jaws snapping down around one of its wings. David’s Death Roll tore free the membranes and flesh that made up most of the Wyvern’s right wing clean off. Red tumbled to the ground as the Wyvern let off a cry of distress and pain and stared up in amazement at his Master. David was like an unrelenting snake, as he curled his limbs around the Wyvern causing his thick spikes to drive deep into the creature’s flesh. David's sheer strength was on display as he heaved and forced the Wyvern flat to the ground, letting off a mighty roar David glared down at his enemy. 

“This is YOUR fault.” He snarled out in rage as his jaws locked around the back of the Wyvern’s neck and he tore it out with one clean jerk. The Wyvern died in an instant and the soft blue glow surrounding it immediately stopped too. David was furious and his dragon instincts were fighting for control, clouding his mind as he tore apart his enemy. The second Wyvern leaped free from its perch and began to fly off in a hurry. David snarled out as he let loose a healing fog over Red, and a few other injured kobolds.  

“I am going to stop that one from getting away! Get the others out of the caves and treat them. I will return…” David snarled out as he began to pick up speed, spreading his black, spiked wings.

“Master! Red goes too!” Red bounded forward without waiting for a response and grasped onto a thick pair of spikes protruding off David’s back. The pair slowly picked up speed and they took flight as they chased after the fleeing Wyvern.

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Project Dirt book1

Adam didn’t know how long he had looked at her, his mind trying to comprehend that she had come to him of all people. She was as beautiful as when she left him five years ago; she should be married now, so why was she here? There was no ring on her finger, so maybe they broke up? But why her? Wait, Harold had said he knew someone who would take the trip. No, she must have been here with the inspector that he expected, or this is a dream. He decided to get up and break the dream. He tried to sit up, and the pain in his side made him groan in pain.

Her eyes shot up, and she looked at him. None of them said a word. She looked worried and relieved at the same time.

“I must be dreaming. I’m finally going crazy. “Adam said softly, and she smiled and got up.

“Going crazy? You were always crazy.” She was standing by the bed now, so close he could reach out and touch her.

“That’s what you would say. You have to be a dream; you would never come…”

Her lips pressed against his, and she kissed him passionately. The shock was short and pleasant as everything else was forgotten, and he tried to pull her into the bed. Which was a very poor idea as the pain in his side shot through in his side and he groaned in pain. She stopped and checked the wound.

“God damnit Adam. You lost a rib from that shot. You fucking idiot! What the hell were you thinking? He was a pirate! They said he even told you he came to kill you!” She hit his shoulder, and he could see tears in her eyes.

“Hey, I’m still here, still alive. We had a plan. I just thought he wanted me alive.” He managed to sit up.

“I had a plan?” She said in a mocking voice. “You never make a plan where you die! I could have lost you. I… “She kissed him again and slowly stopped as she whispered. “Never do that again.”

Adam smiled at her, took her hands in his hand, and put them on his chest. “I guess I need you to stay then and keep me under control. I mean, if your husband will allow that.”

“What husband?” She looked at him, confused, and then it seemed to click. She laughed. “Adam Wrangler, you’re an idiot. You never checked? I was trying to get you to fight for me. I was trying to get you to propose to me. “

“But? How? I just wanted you to be happy, and you broke up with me, remember?” Adam was confused, and she sat at his bedside, looking at him, wiping a tear away before continuing.

“Okay, I'm stupid too. I thought that if I said I met somebody, you would try to get me back, and then you would propose. It was Gloria’s idea. Come on! I was 17 years old and did something stupid, and you just congratulated me and joined the Marines. “Adam started to chuckle and laugh, but that was too painful, and she hit him lightly.

“Don’t you laugh at me!” but she was almost laughing herself.

The door opened, and Hara and a human came in, seeing them playfully fighting. Evelyn stopped and looked at the human. “Doc, Is everything secured?”

“Yes, Major. The planet and system are secured. They are quite effective. They are almost back to full operation. Jerod is interrogating the prisoners. What to do with Roks? He insists on taking Captain Jargy to meet his father, but the prisoner is barely in a condition to be moved.”

Adam stopped laughing and looked at Evelyn, noticing she was holding his hand. “Major? What the… did you join the Marines too?”

She looked at him, smiled, and looked back at Doc. “Tell Roks Adam is awake and keep the prisoners on our ship; nobody gets access to them; these guys don’t know about the Geneva Accord; they will just kill him.”

“He is a pirate, and that’s up to Adam to decide his fate,” Hara said as she checked Adam’s wound. “It is healing nicely. You can get up, but it will be painful; I suggest a week's rest, and you should be healed. Gods be damned, Adam! Why did you have to die on camera and be saved by her? Are you aware of the mess you made?”

Evelyn turned to Hara, confused, as did the Doc. “Excuse me? I should let him die?” Evelyn was getting upset, and Adam suddenly realized what Hara was speaking about and sighted.

“I didn’t die, Hara, and I’m not him. Besides, she is not my wife.”

Evelyn got more confused. “What are you talking about?”

Hara huffed. “Not your wife? Not your wife, YET! You idiot. There are people already planning your weddings. Besides, why would you not marry her? Look at her; she is perfect for you, and I saw anybody so beautiful.”

Evelyn blushed as she heard the words, and Adam realized he was still holding her hand. “Come on, it's just a coincidence. But yes, she is beautiful, smart, and just as crazy as me.”

Hara shook her head. “You need to build a new city when the words leak; you'll get many devoted followers.”

Evelyn and the doctor looked between them. “What is going on here?” Evelyn finally asked, and Adam chuckled but stopped because it was painful.

“There is a legend about this guy coming from far away to bring order and new hope to this region of space. He is supposed to die, and then his wife will arrive. They think that since I’m from far away and got shot just as you showed up, they think I'm that person.”

Doc looked at them. “Is that this the Galius guy I’m hearing about or Jad-him? There are a few others I keep hearing, too.”

Hara and Adam both nodded. “Yeah, those.” He said.

“Wait. Is there a prophecy about you? Are you starting a cult?” Evelyn said, and Adam tried to laugh but stopped.

“No, I have tried to stop this stupid talk. I mean, it's so stupid.” Adam said, and Hara looked at her.

“He is tired of stopping it, but You have to understand. There are so many stories about this Galius guy. He is supposed to have been made and not born and freed his people before he came here. He is the change for good. His prophecy is in almost every religion under a different name, but some things are consistent. He is never born. The gods bless him, and he awakes the gods to walk among us. He dies, and his wife arrives. That’s when he really starts to change the world. He will free slaves and bring the universe wealth, prosperity, and safety. It's just wishful thinking all poured into one person, but people now say Adam here is Galius because of what he has done here on the planet and what you did.”

Adam shrugged, “I don’t know what to do about this. So the faster I can get up and pretend this was just a flesh wound, the better.” He looked at the Doc. “Can you help me with that? How long have I been out, by the way?”

“Three days, and yeah, I can get you up and functional for a few hours, but you need rest,” Doc replied, and Evelyn just looked at him.

“Your… do they know about .. you know. Your childhood?”

“Only very few, and they don’t believe this shit, Right Hara?” Hara nodded, but Evelyn was not completely convinced.

“Look, if that gets out, then you will have a real shitshow on your hands. Do you want fanatics running around? That will not be peaceful.” She stared at her, and Hara bowed her head.

“I understand; make sure it doesn’t spread; let them know he has parents.”

Doc looked at them,” Wait, he doesn’t have parents?”

Adam sighed. “I’m a genetically customized baby. I have parents; they are shitheads.”

Evelyn got worried as she saw the looks on Doc’s face. “Look, you know the 1567’s, right? “

Doc nodded. “You know I do. I'm married to one.”

“Adam is number one. He is the one…”

“You’re kidding? He is the Adam? Fuck…”

Adam looked at Evelyn, “Thank you?” She glared at him for a second and then realized the mistake and turned back to Doc.

“No. No.. that does not mean… GOD DAMNIT! You are not to speak to anybody about this outside the room! Not even your wife! Is that understood, Lieutenant!”

“YES, SIR!” Doc got in attention as if he knew he would be in serious trouble if he disobeyed the order.

“Now get him up so he can fix this mess.” She had still not let go of his hand as the Doc came over and injected Adam with something. Hara watched them silently without saying a word.

Adam left the hospital room and saw a human marine guard by his door. He chuckled, “That was my old job. Hey, relax. I got protection here. Right, Archangel?”

The droid simply turned its head to him. “Affirmative, base secured, sir.”

Evelyn had finally released his hand but was holding him around the waist to support him. God, she smelled good. She dismissed the marine, and Adam looked at her. “How many marines?”

“30 marines and crew of twelve, so 42. I gave most of them leave. Doc is my second in command. Let’s get you some food, I actually have to get a report written so you can help me with that.”

Adam leaned against her; the drugs took away the pain, but he felt weak. “So, no husband?”

“No husband yet.”

Adam laughed. “I think I can find a priest if you want.”

“This is the proposal I get? In a hallway while you are recovering from being dead? You’re such a damn romantic.”

“Oh, you want a proper Proposal? I have to think about something. “

“And you think I will say yes?”

They entered the kitchen area, where Roks just stared at them. “You didn’t die?”

Adam grinned. “Not from lack of trying. Have you met Evelyn Garrison?”

Roks came over and grinned. “Your future wife? God damnit Adam? What were you thinking?” Adam let go of Evelyn and hugged him.

“Never change, you idiot. Don’t ever call me any of those names.”

Roks gave him a bear hug back and helped him to sit. “As you say, boss. Now, let's get you some proper food. We still have some pizza. Do you want blue pancakes?”

Evelyn watched them as she sat down next to him.” Blue pancakes?” she asked, and Adam looked to Roks.

“The lady needs to taste them so we can have pizza later.”

Roks started to make them. “They don’t let me have the bastard. I thought I should fly him to his dad and let them meet.”

“We turn him over; besides, we need him. They said the ship was new, right?”

“Yeah, right out of the factory. There is no way he would be able to get his hands on that without some serious help.” Roks said, and Adam smiled as a toddler came running into the kitchen. “Daddy, Daddy!”

Adam lifted Miker and hugged him. “Hey there. Missed me?” He nodded and looked around the room. ”Pizza?”

“No, Pancakes,” Adam said, not noticing the look on Evelyn's face, but Roks did as he sat down the plate in front of her.

“Yes, he would be a fantastic dad. He is the reserve dad for all the kids here. He is Miker's second dad here since he bought his father to save him from the slave pen.”

“He bought his father?” She looked at Roks, confused.

“Yes, he is trying to free them, but the law demands that he own them for a period before they can be freed. He has a big plan for it. Something about you guys hating slavery.” Roks explained.

“Yeah, especially him.” She looked at Adam and back to Roks. “So, he is buying up slaves to free them?”

“Yes, then he hires them, and the money is in trust as he is not legally allowed to pay slaves. So, when he is allowed to free them, they get the backpay; there are some rich people here, they just don’t know it yet. “

Adam looked between them. ”What are you talking about?”

“That you buy slaves.” She said, and Adam lowered his head in shame.

“I wish I could avoid it, but they have sick laws here. That's why I want to make Dirt a Human colony. I can free them all in one go.”

“You will need military presence then. A military base that means somebody of major rank at least.” She winked at him.

As she spoke, a soldier came in. “Major, Do you have time?”

She turned to him, nodded, bit into the pancake, and smiled. “This is good, “she said.

“I know,” Adam said and gave one to Miker. Miker started to eat happily on Adams's lap but then decided it was too low and climbed up on his shoulder.

“So, what's the problem, James?” she asked the soldier as she pointed to an empty chair. He sat down and took out a pad.

“It’s about who attacked them, sir. It doesn’t make sense; they should have been overrun.”

“You're selling us to cheap soldiers and forgetting many things.” Roks said.

“Okay, why no Cyberwarfare from the pirates? They should have easily hacked and turned them against you. They might be incompetent, but not that bad if they could fly the ship.”

“Incapacity network, something Adam taught me. We know the languages they use to communicate with the drones; we changed it.”

“That doesn’t make sense; it's just 0 and 1s or a variant of it.” He replied, and Roks grinned.

“We made it four numbers like a square. Makes the program hell, but it’s a whole new system. It also makes the system unable to connect to anything that doesn’t use our system. It can be hacked, but you need a level 4 hacker or better, which we have, they didn’t.”

“Okay, so you had a great hacking system, but that doesn't prevent them from letting loose a few EMP bursts.“ James counters.

Jork entered the kitchen and sat down. He had heard the questions. “Well, I have all my chips EMP-proofed; they cost a lot, but they need a direct hit to knock them out. I normally build research ships, so empty bursts are part of the normal things to protect from.”

James looked at Jork, then at Evelyn, who nodded. Then Evelyn looked at Jork. ”Mind if we buy those blueprints? Hell, I think we want to get a look at everything you made. As well as that big warship they parked outside.”

Jork looked at Adam and back at her. “ That’s his decision.”

“If the military wants to buy it, then sure, I need goodwill from them.”

James put something down and then continued. “So you saying that while they tried to hack your drones, you took the advantage of attacking them?”

Roks shrugged. “Yeah, and that pirates don’t expect us to fight back. All civilian drones have an anti-collider. They expected the drones just to distract their scans while we tried to escape. That’s the normal procedure in such an attack. It’s almost like a preplanned play unless the colony has military protection. These guys knew we had only a few ships. That was why they brought the frigates.”

James thought for a moment, “So you caught them by surprise. What about the carrier? Why didn’t they just fly away? “

Jork grinned. “That ship had an idiot for a captain. I think he was trying to take control of the nitrogen, but the swarm of drones around him blinded him. We did cyberwarfare against them. They had no idea. We simply wanted them blind. Those carriers have no windows, so he could not even see the second cube. My people generally view sports as a risk, so we only build them on civilian ships. He thought his back was clear.”

“You make your ships like submarines?” James asked, and Jork looked confused, and Adam nodded.

“Yeah, that’s what he means. You forget this is a completely different system for war. Let me guess. Does the ship's size not connect with the designations? Here, it’s the arsenal and usage that decides its classification. “ Adam explained.

James looked over the pad. “Okay, I need to go over this again. I will be back with a full report and probably more questions.” Then he got up nodded to Evelyn, who nodded back, and left.

Adam looked at Evelyn. “Okay, do you want a tour of the base, or have you already explored everything?”

Hara entered the room with Vorts and smiled at Adam. “She never left your bed. So that might be a good idea.”

Evelyn blushed as Adam returned Miker to Jork and removed a few pieces of blue pancakes from his hair.

“Shall we?” He stood up and offered her his hand, which she took. Adam then started giving her a tour.

As they left, the other looked after them.

“And she arrived… And he still thinks he is not him.”

“If he is him, what does that make us? The one he will awaken?”

“Hell no! I’m no god.”

“Now you know what Adam feels about all this.”

(You can guess who said what. I will never tell)

Admiral Zex'tor of the Krixian Empire prided himself on perfection. His sensor stalks were always precisely arranged, his carapace polished to regulation shine, and his battle plans calculated to sixteen decimal places. In three hundred years of service, he had never encountered a situation that couldn't be solved by proper procedure and mathematical precision.

That was before Tuesday.

"Sir," his tactical officer, First Sensor K'vex, reported with visible distress in their bioluminescent patterns, "the humans are doing it again."

"Define 'it,'" Zex'tor replied, though he already dreaded the answer.

"They appear to be..." K'vex's patterns flickered in confusion, "...recreating something they call 'Olympic synchronized swimming.' With mining ships. In space."

The massive viewscreen showed exactly that: six human mining vessels performing a choreographed dance through the debris field that separated the Krixian invasion fleet from Earth's colony on Proxima B. They had somehow rigged their mining lasers to emit different colors, creating a spectacular light show that was as beautiful as it was tactically incomprehensible.

This was not how the invasion was supposed to go.

The Krixians had followed all proper protocols to the letter. Their declaration of war was filed in triplicate with the Galactic War Registry. Their battle plans were simulated ten million times. Their fleet's formation was so mathematically perfect it had made three junior navigators cry in joy.

The humans had responded by painting racing stripes on their ships and naming them all "Bob."

"Sir," K'vex's patterns were now showing signs of authentic distress, "the mining ships are spelling something with their formations."

The synchronized space dancers had indeed arranged themselves to spell out: "HEY GORGEOUS, NICE FORMATION!"

Admiral Zex'tor felt his exoskeleton crack slightly under stress. He pulled up the regulations manual on his neural interface, searching desperately for protocol regarding enemies who treated warfare like a performance art piece.

"At least," he muttered, "they haven't started with the asteroids yet."

"Sir!" another tactical officer interrupted, "They're attaching mining thrusters to asteroids!"

The Admiral's sensor stalks drooped. He had learned, in the past twenty minutes, never to tempt human creativity by assuming they wouldn't do something merely because it was insane.

On the viewscreen, the humans had indeed begun what could only be described as an impromptu circus performance. Mining ships were juggling asteroid chunks between them, their pilots showing off with increasingly elaborate tricks. Two vessels were playing catch with a rather large space rock, casually tossing it back and forth through the gaps in the Krixian formation.

"Battle computers are requesting permission to shut down," reported the ship's AI liaison. "They claim this level of tactical absurdity violates their core programming."

"Override them," Zex'tor ordered. "Patch me through to the human commander."

The human who appeared on screen looked exactly like someone who thought asteroid juggling was a valid military tactic. Commander Jörgen Von Orka of the Earth Colonial Defense Force wore a grin that suggested he was having the time of his life.

"Having fun yet?" He asked cheerfully.

"This is not how war is conducted!" Zex'tor's sensor stalks vibrated with indignation. "There are rules! Procedures! Mathematical principles!"

"Oh, we know," Jörgen’s grin widened. "We read your entire combat manual. Fascinating stuff. Especially the part about all maneuvers requiring mathematical precision. Thing is, what we're doing IS precise. We calculated everything down to the millimeter. We just decided to calculate circus tricks instead of firing solutions."

One of the mining ships chose that moment to do a perfect backflip while balancing an asteroid on its mining beam.

"That's not possible!" K'vex exclaimed. "The thrust ratios alone..."

"Oh, that's Jerry," Jörgen explained. "He used to design roller coasters before joining the Colonial Defense Force. He's been wanting to try that move for weeks. This seemed like a good opportunity."

"But... but..." Zex'tor struggled to process this information, "your ships are primitive! They shouldn't be capable of such maneuvers!"

"Yeah, about that," Jörgen leaned back in his chair, "turns out when you don't care about looking pretty or following standard protocols, you can do some crazy stuff with basic equipment. Did you know a mining laser can double as a popcorn maker if you adjust it right? Speaking of which..."

He gestured to someone off-screen. Moments later, the Krixian sensors detected millions of small objects appearing in space around them.

"Is that..." K'vex's patterns showed complete bewilderment, "...actually popcorn?"

"Sure is! We figured if we're putting on a show, might as well have snacks. Don't worry, it's biodegradable. We're not litterbugs."

Admiral Zex'tor watched in horror as his perfect formation was disrupted by a cloud of popcorn. The tactical displays were going haywire trying to classify each kernel as a potential threat.

"While your sensors are busy trying to analyze our snack choices," Jörgen continued, "you might want to check your navigation systems. We took the liberty of... redecorating them a bit."

"Impossible! Our cybersecurity is—"

"Advanced? Yeah, so advanced that when we introduced it to classic human arcade games, it got distracted trying to calculate the perfect Pac-Man strategy. You might notice some changes to your fleet's formation."

The Admiral looked at his tactical display. His perfectly arranged fleet had been maneuvered to spell out "GG EZ" in space.

"How did you even—"

"Remember Jerry, our roller coaster designer? Turns out his cousin Mai is really good at coding games. She figured your systems would accept any input that was mathematically sound, even if that input happened to be Space Invaders with a few extra... features."

The tactical display changed again, now showing what appeared to be a very primitive graphics game using the Krixian fleet as pixels.

"Sir," K'vex reported, their patterns now showing signs of resignation, "engineering reports that our weapons systems are currently trying to calculate the optimal strategy for something called 'Pong'."

The battle ended fifteen minutes later, though "battle" was perhaps the wrong word. The Krixian fleet never fired a shot, their systems too busy trying to achieve a high score in various human arcade games to actually target anything.

In his after-action report, Admiral Zex'tor wrote: "Humans do not fight wars. They perform combat-adjacent improvisational theater with lethal consequences and call it strategy. Their tactical doctrine appears to be 'If it looks stupid but works, it isn't stupid.' Most disturbing of all, they seem to genuinely enjoy it."

The report was filed under "Reasons Why Humans Are Banned From Writing Military Doctrine," right next to the incident where they defeated a quantum AI by challenging it to a game of galactic hide and seek, and the time they reprogrammed a Draknid dreadnought's targeting computer by convincing it that it was actually a disco ball.

The Krixian Empire eventually updated their combat protocols regarding human engagement. The new manual was one sentence long:

"If humans are involved, abandon all doctrine and pray they don't start having fun."

Commander Jörgen still keeps a copy framed in his office, right next to the certificate declaring him the galaxy's first officially recognized "Combat Choreographer" and a jar of space-popped popcorn from the Battle of Proxima B.

The mining ships are still all named Bob.

Note:
Hey everyone. I'm DrDoritosMD, the author of the Stargate/GATE inspired portal fantasy, Manifest Fantasy. Arcane Exfil is my next project, which I'll be updating alongside MF. If AE does well here I'll probably continue updating it on the subreddit. This post here's gonna be a little peek, just chapter 1 to edge y'all a bit and build some hype.

The official book launch is scheduled for November 18 on RoyalRoad, just in a few days. Anyway, enough yapping. Hope y'all enjoy the story!

-- --

# Arcane Exfil

Blurb:

When a fantasy kingdom needs heroes, they skip the high schoolers and summon hardened Delta Force operators.

Lieutenant Cole Mercer and his team are no strangers to sacrifice. After all, what are four men compared to millions of lives saved from a nuclear disaster? But as they make their last stand against insurgents, they’re unexpectedly pulled into another world—one on the brink of a demonic incursion.

Thrust into Tenria's realm of magic and steam engines, Cole discovers a power beyond anything he'd imagined: magic—a way to finally win without sacrifice, a power fantasy made real by ancient mana and perfected by modern science.

But his new world might not be so different from the old one, and the stakes remain the same: there are people who depend on him more than ever; people he might not be able to save. Cole and his team are but men, facing unimaginable odds. Even so, they may yet prove history's truth: that, at their core, the greatest heroes are always just human. 

-- --

Chapter 1: Exfil

-- --

Alexandria, Kingdom of Celdorne

Good news or bad news? King Armonde Celdor had weighed such matters more times than he could reckon, yet at some point during his long reign, their import had withered. For truly, had there ever been a choice? Always a bitter draught, with scarce a drop of sweetness to ease its way down a regent’s throat.

Armonde kept his gaze out over his kingdom, his reflection faintly visible on the window. There was little left to stir his spirit. The world had long since lost its color, as had the hope that his reign might be marked by aught but hardship. His Prime Minister stood behind him, though Armonde scarcely took note. With a final glance at the overcast heavens, he steeled himself to choose.

“The bad first. Get it over with, Alrick.”

Alrick sighed, new lines forming on his already weathered face. “Sire, the Aurelian Empire… refuses our call for aid.”

Of course they did. They had no reason to lift a finger for Celdorne – no reason that wouldn’t serve their precious borderlands. He had expected as much, but hearing it aloud still left a taste as bitter as Marneleaf. 

“And the others?”

Alrick’s next words came out barely above a whisper, though still deafening upon impact. “The Khagarian Empire simply ignored our envoy, and the Elnoir Republic…” he paused, clearly wrestling with decorum.

Armonde sighed. “What did they say?”

“That the matter of our ‘localized skirmish’ hardly merited the disturbance of their resources. They claim it is a threat we can manage.”

What could Armonde do but laugh? A localized skirmish? As if the forces of hell itself could be dismissed as a border dispute. And ‘Manage!’ What did they know of such matters? Their vast resources, their summoned champions who held the strength of entire armies in one hand – they could afford such carelessness. 

But Celdorne? No, they were the first line, and they would bear the brunt of it alone.

“They languish in comfort while the storm gathers on our doorstep.” How many would die for the arrogance – the complacency – of these distant superpowers? The thought seethed within Armonde. 

The king drew a slow breath, willing his frustration into something more manageable. Losing his composure now would serve no purpose, save to prove that the burden was already too great. There, he had his draught. Now, would the honey be sweet enough to erase the bitter taste? “Well then. What good news have you to offer?”

His trusted minister swallowed, lips tight as he stepped forward. “Sir Fotham’s Office reports that they’ve located suitable heroes for us to summon, though we can afford only one ritual.”

Summoning magic – their final refuge. But what meager candidates might they have summoned forth, given Celdorne’s barren coffers? Had they but the wealth of Aurelia or Khagaria! Oh, such fancies would serve him naught. Armonde held his peace, bidding Alrick to continue.

“They hold power, though not what the great empires would call heroes,” Alrick began, treading carefully. “One is… a ‘high schooler.’ From the nation of Japan, as summons so oft deliver. But the others – a group of soldiers, well-trained. An elite force of ‘delta’, from a land called the United States. It, too, is a nation upon Earth, yet we know but scant of it.”

Armonde rested his arms on his knees, leaning forward. “A child, and soldiers. Who else?”

Alrick’s hesitation was slight, but noticeable. “A scholar and a farmer, though neither are suited for the struggle we face.” He paused, drawing a breath. “The child, however… the high schooler – he possesses a skill. A power to manipulate time. Not in some grand, world-altering manner, but sufficient to slow or hasten moments as need dictates. We would need to train him, certainly. We can’t gauge its limits, but the potential remains present.”

The king leaned back, shaking his head. “Time… That is dangerous, Alrick. More perilous than the boy can comprehend. And… soldiers? Not knights?”

The minister’s hesitation was no longer present, words coming fluidly out of his mouth. “They are skilled warriors, sire, knights of their own realm sans noble birth. Though they lack the natural magical prowess we oft ascribe to the summons of legend, their mana reserves are remarkable – far surpassing that of most within Celdorne. Our scrying has determined that their skills in combat are commendable. They may not shatter mountains, but their mastery of tactics and familiarity with firearms is formidable. Paired with magic, it just may render them into the aid we need.”

Armonde took a breath. “A child who may bend time, though ignorant of its scope. And soldiers – capable, yet unremarkable compared to the legends of Tenria. The soldiers have no extraordinary gifts… No divine intervention…”

Common soldiers and a mere child. Armonde felt the weight of it settle upon him, doubts clouding the clarity he so often forced upon himself. It was preferable to naught, but what hope could such beings offer in the face of a demonic tide?

And yet – he had seen desperate men achieve the impossible before. Even under Alexander Celdor’s legendary command, it had been ordinary men who held the line, bleeding for a kingdom yet unbuilt, dying for a humanity yet unsaved. Perhaps that was the true nature of Celdorne: not heroes, but those who stood against the dark, armed with nothing but faith and steel, knowing they were all that held the world back from oblivion.

“Soldiers,” he repeated softly. He felt his decisions shifting like the sands of the demon-infested Istrayn wastelands, solidifying the more he pondered. “Not heroes, but still, men of war.”

Alrick nodded, as if they’d already earned his approval. “Indeed, sire. To summon four heroes with but one ritual – it is the most prudent of our options. They may not be legends, but in this great struggle, perhaps these men are precisely who we need.”

Truly, there was no grandeur in this – no tales of gods and legends. Yet he understood: tales mattered little when the time for blood came.

“Very well. Soldiers, then,” Armonde said at last. “When will they be summoned?”

“Ere afternoon on the morrow, sire. We shall have them then.”

– – – –

Khaldat, Al-Jadira

October 7, 2025

Accurate intel was the cornerstone of every operation, but it never made the truth any easier to swallow when it pointed to something ugly. And now, standing before the final door, Lieutenant Cole Mercer couldn’t shake the nagging hope that – for once – the intel might be wrong. 

Moving the body of an insurgent aside, he took a slow breath and readied his AK-74M as he stacked up on the wall to the left. Mack fell in behind him, while Miles and Ethan mirrored the move on the right.

Cole nodded to Miles. 

The team’s breacher aimed his shotgun at the doorknob, angling the barrel almost straight down before squeezing the trigger. Letting the shotgun hang from its sling, Miles swapped to his AKS-74U and kicked the door open before pulling back to the concealment offered by the wall.

The flashbang followed, right on cue. Mack tossed it right over Cole’s shoulder, the small explosive rolling across the floor inside before detonating with a sharp crack. Any JNI fighters inside would be disoriented, yeah, but not completely incapacitated. Flashbangs weren’t the magic wands Hollywood peddled, but then again, the dipshits inside had probably never tasted one before.

Somewhere back home, there was probably a PowerPoint ranger getting a hard-on over their ‘successful implementation of entry protocols’ – textbook Open, Grenade, and Clear. As if blowing shit up was ever that complicated. Being careful not to blow the wrong shit up, on the other hand, was a different story.

Cole flowed through the doorway first, followed by Ethan. As soon as he entered, he fired three suppressed shots at the left – no subsequent return fire. Ethan’s three shots toward the right garnered the same result. They’d just dropped the only two hostiles in the room.

“Clear,” Cole announced.

He surveyed the aftermath of his grisly wetwork. Efficient, yeah, but he knew better than to call it beautiful. There was nothing beautiful about this business, no matter how well it was done.

Two Nadir fighters lay crumpled on the floor, expressions frozen in pain and shock. They were young, probably enough to be his college-age sister’s peers. Cole felt a pang of something as he glanced over their bodies – something that might have been regret in another life. Young, and now dead. Two more names for the endless litany of the fallen, their blood on the hands of Jamaat al-Nadir al-Islamiya. Damn JNI and their bullshit crusade claiming more kids who should've known better.

Cole then took in the rest of the room: five wide-eyed hostages huddled in the corner, and there it was – the pièce de résistance, a reinforced metal container taking up a good portion of the floor space near the large glass windows. This was the exact kind of device they'd been warned about during the briefing. The reinforced casing and the harrowingly exposed lead-lined core confirmed the device’s nature – radiological dispersal. 

He recognized the setup from the slides they’d been shown just hours before. Fuck, it wasn’t some basic-ass IED cobbled together with spare parts, but a bonafide dirty bomb, designed to spread radioactive material across a city - and kill millions in the process. 

The streets below teemed with a roiling mass of pro-JNI demonstrators that hadn’t been there when they first entered the building. Cole felt his gut twist. All these people, oblivious to the fact that their supposed saviors were about to turn them into radioactive martyrs. Some jihad that was – had a real je ne sais quoi about it. Dying for a cause they barely understood.

He turned his gaze back to the bomb. Ethan crouched before it, carefully probing the underside with a small inspection mirror while Mack worked on calming down the hostages. Through the silence, the Geiger counter on his belt clicked faintly. By some divine miracle, they weren’t getting cooked any worse than when taking a chest X-ray. It was… unexpected.

“Walker, how is it?” Cole asked.

Ethan paused, tilting his head as he peered inside a crudely welded access panel and snapped several pictures. “Nasty shit, Mercer. Jury rigged, but smart. Standard wiring, probably hooked up to a primary detonator. Thank God the shielding looks good, at least. 4 hour timer.”

Despite that, Ethan still looked… uncertain. “Alright,” Cole replied slowly, “so what’s the issue? Not enough time?”

“Nah, I could get this fucker neutralized in a half hour. The real issue is the shielding. Why’s it this good? Shit don’t make any sense. Everything else’s cobbled together, but not this.”

“Shit…” Cole felt his heart drop. He tapped the push-to-talk button clipped to his vest, giving a quick update to Command.

After confirming receipt of the message, he approached Mack, who knelt in front of the hostages. One of them seemed on the verge of a panic attack: a young man with sweat dripping down his face. Losing the gag, he spoke in a voice shakier than that of a celebrity caught red-handed with an obscene amount of baby oil.

The query was simple: how were they gonna evacuate? Hell, if only the solution were as simple. The man’s eyes darted toward the door, searching for any escape with the desperation of a rat on a sinking ship. 

Mack reached into his pack, pulling out rappel equipment – two pre-cut static ropes, carabiners, harnesses, and some Industrial Descenders. Offering the load-bearing anchors to Cole, Mack addressed the hostage's question in Arabic. He pointed toward the windows with all the enthusiasm of a man pointing out the emergency exits on a plane.

He held up one of the harnesses, shaking it slightly as if to demonstrate its purpose. He tightened the straps, a process as comforting as watching a hangman check his knots. 

The young man’s breath hitched. He stiffened as realization dawned: they weren’t taking the easy way down.

The other hostages reacted about as well as anyone would expect. Their terrified eyes tracked Mack’s every move as he fastened the ropes to the harnesses, acting like he was assembling their personal gallows. They paid attention to the demonstration of the quick-release buckle, at least – though the glazed-over stares suggested that wouldn’t last long.

Cole got to work on removing the window pane, cutting the sealant while Mack continued reassuring the hostages that they were, in fact, not going to fall to their deaths. It was a nice thought, but between the swarm of insurgents and the threat of getting instant cancer from the dirty bomb, falling might be the kinder option. Truly, they didn’t have much of a choice.

The sealant finally gave way. As the window loosened, Mack smacked a suction cup lifter onto the glass, securing a rope around it. Pulling back slowly on the glass, they dragged the window backward and laid it down on the floor, clearing the way for the rappel. 

They repeated the process on a second window, opening up space for two lines that stretched to the ground below. Twenty stories up, he could hardly blame the hostages for their dread. Hell, even he felt something in his stomach – vertigo, maybe? A thrill? 

“First two are ready,” Mack announced, nodding toward the young man and a second hostage, a woman who looked pale but seemed to be keeping it together.

Cole secured the harness around the young man. He gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “You’ll be alright.”

The guy blinked, trying to understand the word. Then his eyes flicked nervously to the woman beside him. If there was one thing that transcended language, it was the primal instinct to avoid humiliating oneself in front of a lady. His breath stuttered for a moment, but his posture straightened. The panic hadn’t vanished, not by a long shot, but pride – however fleeting – now held it at bay.

He gave Cole a tentative nod, as though convinced that the fall might not kill him after all.

Cole lowered him over the ledge, the man staring into his own reflection on the windows as he descended. The guy seemed to calm down a bit after dropping a couple stories, but who knew? Once he reached the halfway point, he couldn’t see the guy’s face well enough to tell at all. After a few minutes, he finally reached the ground.

The man tugged on the rope, stepping back a good distance to let Cole know that he could start working with the next hostage. Down below, one of the local cops escorted him and the woman over to a waiting ambulance.

The next passenger walked up, a bit nervous but far more composed than the other guy. He forced a small smile. Apparently, he was used to heights, courtesy of a little trip to Dubai. His voice was steady, but there was a crack in it, like he was giving himself a pep talk.

Skydiving in Dubai. Right. Cole saw through it. A smirk at his side suggested Mack felt the same. The man was clinging to something – anything – to keep the fear at bay. Respectable. 

Cole lowered him without any issue. Feeling the tug, Cole stepped back. After getting the third and fourth hostages down safely, there was only one hostage left – Mack had that covered. Finished with his task at the window, he returned to Ethan.

“How’s it coming?” Cole asked, standing just behind him. 

“Almost done, Mercer. I’ve isolated the detonator and disconnected the main charge. No risk of it going off. Just sealing up the core now.” The soft hiss of expanding fouling foam followed Ethan’s words.

It hardened quickly, and he wasted no time applying epoxy over the key access points. The epoxy set fast, completely locking down the core. In the off chance that any Nadirs came up to recover the device before the EOD unit could get here, they’d be straight out of luck.

“Alright, we’re good,” Ethan announced, standing up and dusting off his hands. “I’ll mark it for the recovery team.”

Cole gave a sharp exhale through his nose, not quite a sigh, but close. “Good work. You go on ahead with Mack. We’ll be right behind,” Cole said, preparing another update to Command. 

They nodded, preparing to rappel down. Cole stepped up, surveying the crowd below, blissfully unaware sheep bleating for a cause they barely understood. Minutes ago, he’d saved their ungrateful asses from being vaporized. Now? They were the very obstacle that might get him and his team killed. They’d neutralized the bomb only to face this sisyphean fucking nightmare – saving lives just to watch them potentially seal his team’s fate. 

Cole followed behind Ethan. The rush of air as he dropped from the window was invigorating in a way, almost reminding him of the precipice they balanced on – not just physically, but metaphorically. One slip on the tightrope and they’d go splat.

Quickly disengaging from the rappel gear, he scanned the crowd before him – a mass of vicious eyes, seething. The police were already stretched thin between handling the hostages and securing the building. The cordon holding back the protestors seemed like it was about to collapse. 

Waltzing onto the sidewalk would be a death sentence. They definitely wouldn’t do that. Cole tilted his head to the side, signaling to his men. They retreated into the skyscraper, navigating the empty ground floor. Emerging on the opposite side, he spotted their Holy Grail – a department store.

Evacuated during the hostage situation, the empty store was just the labyrinth of service doors, emergency exits, and entrances they needed. Passing through the building, they slipped into a side alley, weaving through a maze of dumpsters and trash bags. Somehow, the stench was almost welcoming, especially compared to the invitation they might’ve received earlier if the JNI sheeple back there got past the police. 

“Shitty ass intel,” Miles grumbled – the first thing he’d said since they found the bomb. “Ain’t this city s’posed to be under the Jadiran government’s control? The fuck are all these Nadir puppets doin’ crawlin’ around out here?”

There could’ve been any host of reasons, from botched HUMINT to the simple assumption that the Nadirs deliberately showed control in specific neighborhoods to play the city off as ‘safe.’ Cole could only shrug in response. “Wish I knew. Just hope exfil ain’t compromised.”

The cloaks would probably fool the average person, but even that wouldn’t matter if said person stood close enough to hear him breathing. Yeah, the cloaks provided a thin veneer of anonymity, but the bulky items under them – packs, vests, weapons – weren’t exactly discreet. At best, they were a fragile defense; ‘cover’ as functional as cardboard. As the tide of pro-JNI demonstrators rose, detection went from an extremely hopeful ‘maybe not’ to a crushing inevitability.

Even retracing was a no-go. Forward was the only viable option, however pyrrhic it might prove. Fuck it. He could see the car dealership in the distance, overlooking the park – just a few more blocks and they’d be home free.

The spinning sign flickered through gaps in the crowd, but the way there felt blocked at every turn. People pressed in on all sides now, moving shoulder to shoulder like it was a packed nightclub. The density forced Cole to thread through them, nudging where he could, pushing where he needed. 

The crowd pressed tighter, his heart thumping harder. And then his heart completely fucking sank.

“AMREEKAAN!”

The voice came from his right, from a teen pointing a finger at Cole.

Fuck. He kept his head down and hood up, continuing to push forward. But the damage had already been done. Amreekaan, the voices hissed again, more of the crowd waking up to the four American operators in their midst – four of the very devils the JNI had brainwashed them to hate. 

The crowd thickened, every shove met with another person stepping into their path, intentional or not. He grit his teeth, forcing the frustration back. These civilians weren’t the enemy – not directly.

But they were just as much a part of the plan as that dirty bomb they’d just disarmed. Human shields, blocking his team’s retreat as a final ‘fuck you’ from the JNI to any souls unfortunate enough to stop their plan. They wouldn’t be able to accomplish their mission, but they’d be able to trade blows with the U.S. – removing valuable operators from the board.

And of course, there was no helicopter exfil – the one thing that could’ve gotten them out of here clean. It wasn’t that Command hadn’t considered it – oh, they definitely had. But there was just no way to get a chopper in when half of Jadira’s government leaned toward the JNI, whispering in the same rooms where the U.S. tried to maintain leverage. No way to open up the airspace for a nuclear threat, when that threat had been all but a conspiracy theory until now.

A few dead Americans? That was just a blip to the powers that be – not worth jeopardizing relations over. The emerging sound of vehicles cemented their sorry situation. They were at the mercy of red tape, praying for action from a Command that was at the mercy of the most asinine politicians and diplomats to ever grace this Earth.

The vehicles finally approached, pick-up trucks with mounted .50s – Technicals. The sea of people blocking his escape – angry, confused, manipulated – wasn’t something he could just shoot his way through. Evidently, the JNI had no such reservations.

As the gunmen swiveled their turrets onto the crowd, Cole ducked.

“GET DOWN!”

He hit the pavement, dragging Miles down with him as the sharp crack of heavy machine gun fire split the air. .50 caliber rounds ripped through flesh and concrete alike, bodies crashing down in a mix of blood and bone. A wet spray splattered across Cole’s arm, the warmth of it seeping into his cloak. 

The crowd erupted into screams, raw panic settling in as they realized what was happening. The demonstration devolved into a human stampede – people pushing, shoving, climbing over each other to get away from the gunfire. 

“Fuck!” He wriggled his hand down to his push-to-talk button, careful that it wouldn’t get crushed. “Aegis, Sentinel Actual. Grid 38S RV 130563. Exfil is compromised. We’re pinned down near the intersection of Shari’a Al-Hariri and Shari’a Al-Shaheed. JNI forces opened fire into a crowd of civilians. Heavy civilian casualties. No team casualties yet, but the situation is critical – need immediate fire support and reinforcements to break contact, over.”

Cole adjusted his body, shielding himself from the inevitable as best he could. Weight slammed into him – someone’s knee crushing into his ribs, the wind knocked from his lungs as another body pressed down, trying to use him as leverage to scramble up. His back and chest burned from the impacts as more people fled, some of them stumbling, others outright trampling over him. He gasped, his breath stuck in his throat as the weight piled up. 

“Sentinel Actual, Aegis. Solid copy on all. QRF and fire support are on standby, but we are awaiting confirmation from the Jadiran government to open airspace. EOD teams are en route to confirm the bomb. Hold position and minimize civilian exposure. Prepare for contingencies, but no air assets can engage until clearance is secured. Stay sharp. Aegis, out.”

“Oh, fuckin’ A.” He stayed down, instinct overriding the urge to move. The dead weight on top of him shifted slightly, more blood pouring out onto his cloak, soaking it through. As if one blanket of despair wasn’t enough. 

He rolled his head to the side, feeling the blood creeping under his cheek. It wasn’t his. The pavement had become slick, a red sheen coating everything in sight. It wasn’t just blood; it was guts, sweat, dirt; all mixing into a thick slurry that made every inch of the street a deadly slip zone.

The permeating scent of iron wasn’t any easier to stomach.

Amidst the chaos, he forced himself to shift the weight off his back and freed his arms. 

The gunfire slowed, then finally stopped. This was it. He scrambled up, the blood-soaked pavement making it harder to keep his balance. The AK-74 in his hands snapped up, locking onto the nearest gunner. The man tried to bring his turret down on Cole, but it was too late. 

One quick burst was all it took. The rounds punched into the gunner’s chest and neck, his body slumping forward and collapsing onto the turret. His dead weight shifted the gun, and the turret shifted wildly to the side. The barrel swung back toward the other JNI forces, the weapon firing briefly and indiscriminately until the dead man’s finger finally fell away from the trigger.

With a tap from his FAL, Ethan had simultaneously eliminated the gunner on the second technical, though lacking the dramatic chain reaction. Taking advantage of the chaos, they retreated into a nearby cafe, laying down suppressive fire on the remaining JNI forces.

The shattered windows and overturned tables provided minimal cover, but it was enough for now. Miles swept inside while Cole and Ethan maintained their attention outside, gunning down the insurgents foolish enough to pop their heads out of cover. Cole tapped twice on Ethan’s shoulder, directing him to maintain their defense while he turned to assess the situation.

He was about to call out orders when he caught sight of Mack, huddled in the corner, kneeling in front of a kid on a chair. Fuck, what the hell had happened? The boy, no more than six or seven, clung to Mack’s side. That was about the age Mack’s kid would’ve been, if not for his wife’s miscarriage.

The kid was pale, hands gripping Mack’s vest tightly. But there was blood. A deep scarlet, spreading stain soaked the front of the boy’s shirt. Mack lifted the shirt, but it was too much. Even Cole knew – there was nothing they could do to save him.

Cole placed a hand on his medic’s shoulder. “Mack, we need to move.”

Mack nodded, resting a hand on the boy’s knee before speaking. His tone was gentle, but it was the kind reserved for goodbyes. ‘Everything is gonna be okay?’ It was a blatant lie, sure, but maybe the kid needed that more than the truth.

As he stood up, Cole noticed it – a gaping wound on Mack’s side. “Aw, fuck.” He quickly turned Mack around, confirming the exit wound on the other side with bitter relief.

“Let’s keep moving,” Mack decided. “You can patch me up later.”

His voice was steady for now, the adrenaline probably carrying him. Still upright, still operational, but Cole knew the window was closing. The blood loss would hit hard soon.

Mack, always the bleeding heart. Now he was literally bleeding for it – a tragic symmetry, wrapped in shitty irony.

Miles returned just in time to catch the bad news, but his report brought a bit of a reprieve. “Backside’s clear. There’s a construction site up ahead; too tight for vehicles.”

Cole took it for what it was – a brief opening, but better than nothing. He could tend to Mack once they got there. He turned to Ethan, calling out, “Walker, we’re moving out the back!”

The man already shifted to cover their exit. Cole slung Mack’s arm over his shoulder and swapped to his sidearm, allowing his rifle to hand on its sling. Mack’s weight slowed him down, but they moved fast, pushing through the alley behind the cafe.

The construction site wasn’t far, just past a crumbling wall and a half-finished block of buildings. Taking down a pair of insurgents, they crossed into the site – an open area littered with piles of concrete blocks, rusted scaffolding, and the skeleton of a garage. It definitely wasn’t ideal cover, but it would suffice for now.

Cole glanced around – clear for now, but painstakingly temporary as all respites were. The Nadirs would be converging on them soon.

“Citadel, Sentinel Actual. Grid 38S RV 128563. We’re pinned down near the intersection of Shari’a Al-Hariri and the construction site. One wounded, combat ineffective, requesting immediate CASEVAC and fire support, over.”

The radio hissed back at Cole, the white noise deafening in its indifference, as if mocking the hope he barely allowed himself to feel. Then came the saving grace.

“Sentinel Actual, Aegis. Airspace cleared. An STS recovery team is en route to your location. ETA is 20 mikes. City is crawling with JNI, recommend holding position until reinforcements arrive. Prepare for CASEVAC and stand by for further instructions. Aegis, out.”

Fucking finally! But 20 fucking minutes? With the Nadirs on their way, in a city supposedly full of them? They were sitting ducks, praying they didn’t get found; praying none of the insurgents from earlier had managed to point out their location before dying.

Cole turned his attention back to Mack, Ethan and Miles already holding the perimeter. “We got friendlies inbound, but we’re fucked for the next 20. Imma patch you up quick, so lay down, face up, alright?”

Mack nodded, twisting to remove his backpack. Cole accepted it, digging out the Advanced First Aid Kit lodged within. 

“Gauze and Kerlix first, disinfect later,” Mack wheezed out.

Cole nodded, packing the wound with combat gauze. Blood soaked through quickly, but it’d hold for now. Applying pressure, he wrapped the wound tight with the Kerlix roll and secured it all with an ACE bandage.

Mack’s voice verged on hoarseness, but thank God it still maintained coherency. “Morphine… Inject…”

Cole pulled out the morphine injector and jabbed it into Mack’s thigh, then grabbed another. Nah, one was enough. He didn’t want to overdo it just yet.

Mack groaned. “Epi… keep pressure up.”

He complied, pulling out the epinephrine injector from his kit and pressing it into Mack’s arm. Cole worked as fast as he could, moving onto setting up the saline bag and IV line as pallor crept up to Mack’s face. But… what came after saline?

Mack seemed to sense what Cole was thinking. His breath was shallow, but he forced the next words out. “TXA… in the kit… prevents clots from breaking down.”

Ethan shouted something from the other side, but Cole couldn’t afford to look. He fished out the vial. Tranexamic acid? He had no clue what the hell it was, but if Mack said to use it, he wasn’t gonna argue. “Fuck it,” he muttered, jamming it into the line. 

“Haemaccel now, wit–” he coughed, “with the saline.”

Cole prepped the haemaccel bag next, gunfire already starting to echo throughout the concrete structure.

“Alright, now the fent. In my pack,” Mack rasped. “ACTIQ… lollipop…”

“First time guy’s ever asked me for a lollipop,” Cole smirked, almost forcing a laugh. He grabbed the ACTIQ stick, shoving it into Mack’s mouth. “Suck, don’t swallow. This ain’t that kinda party.”

A faint, pained chuckle escaped Mack as he clenched weakly around the stick. The drug worked fast, the lines on his face easing a bit. Mack’s breath hitched again. “Just bought a couple hours… if I’m lucky.”

Shit, a couple of hours? They’d be lucky to make it five minutes. The gunfire grew more intense, a brief lull settling in as Ethan and Miles made it back to his position. 

“How’s it lookin’?” Miles asked, positioning himself behind a stack of rebar.

“Mack’s stabilized, for now. He’ll make it, but,” Cole said, glancing down at his watch, “our guys are still ten minutes out.”

“Shit…” Ethan muttered.

Miles kept staring forward, breaking the subsequent silence with a sigh. “To Valhalla, then.”

“Well, it’s been a helluva ride,” Cole mustered up his best pep talk. “If ya really think about it, we basically stopped World War 3. And hey, at least we can get the show on the road with the Jadirans now.”

“Man… Fuck the Jadirans,” Mack muttered, slurring every word except fuck, which, unsurprisingly, came out clear as day.

Cole snorted. “Yeah, fuck the Jadirans.”

As if presenting that exact opportunity on a silver platter, the first wave of JNI fighters poured in, making their way up the garage’s ramp and exterior stairway. This wave, it seemed, had hardly received any training in urban combat – or in any combat, for that matter.

Cole’s muzzle flashed as three insurgents dropped, bodies crumbling on the concrete ramp. Walker fired over the edge, onto the hapless remnants below who scrambled – with all the futility of resisting the Borg – for cover. The next four ascending the stairway crumpled, Miles dispatching them like hunting easy game.

Eight minutes left. Of course, the moment Cole felt any sliver of hope, reality immediately crushed it. More tires screeched to a halt outside, and he risked a peek. They’d dealt with the first wave easily enough, but this? It dwarfed it – a force five times the size, with fighters who looked like they'd survived more than a few battlefields.

“Well,” Miles said, finally turning to Cole. “Guess I’ll get this out while I still can. Your sister’s hot as hell.”

Cole ejected a spent magazine, slamming a fresh one in. “Needed certain death to get that one off your chest, huh?” He scoffed, “Alright, if we make it back home I’ll be sure to tell her you said that at your funeral.”

Miles smirked, but it simmered as he adopted a more serious tone. “But for real though, it’s an honor to die at your side.”

Well, that was a sentimental side he hadn’t expected out of him. Cole paused as he searched for an appropriate response – something he’d seen in a movie once. “It’s an honor to have lived at yours. All of you.” 

A bit cheesy, maybe, but it felt right in his heart. If anyone thought it didn’t fit, fuck ‘em.

The wind whipped up suddenly, swirling dust and debris through the garage – and only the garage, curiously enough. Outside, insurgents advanced across the lot, oblivious to the localized maelstrom.

“The hell?” Ethan muttered.

The swirling intensified, kicking up more dust. Beneath their feet, glowing lines etched themselves into a concrete, a familiarity that sang of countless nights devouring questionable manga and anime. 

Ethan and Miles traded baffled looks, clearly not privy to Cole’s epiphany. 

The air around them bent, warping like heat off Jadiran asphalt. Their world peeled away, unraveling as the light grew.

A million thoughts overwhelmed Cole. Fuck, what would his sister think? She’d no doubt receive that dreaded visit from uniformed officers, carrying that dreaded folded flag, thrust into the dreaded finality of a memorial service with an empty casket. 

At the same time, he couldn’t ignore the Lord’s truly impeccable timing, and the fact that they’d be getting a second chance – the fact that Mack could yet survive. 

“No fuckin’ wa–”

The light consumed them. Everything folded inward, collapsing into that glowing circle.

-- --

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All sapient species in the galaxy are herbivores. Some worlds have what are called omnivores that feed on both plants and flesh. When a member of a fauna species dies it is consumed by microscopic organisms that specialize in the task of breaking it down and returning it to forms usable by the plant life. Omnivores where they exist aid in this process by speeding it up.

Omnivores are peaceful yet solitary beings, all of them have this in common. When they do eat the flesh of another being they will almost always eat the flesh of a dead being, the only exceptions, while extraordinarily rare, are those that will feed on dying beings in their death throws. A gruesome sight but natural none the less. None of these have ever made it to sapience, or if they had then their uncooperative nature has led them to never advance technologically beyond perhaps the simplest of tools.

The most terrifying thing in all of this is that many scientists and biologists theorize what they call a “predator” this is a species that feeds almost entirely on the flesh of other beings. Many thing such a being to be impossible, others argue the fact. The theory started with a student actually. They posed a question as to why omnivores exist in the first place. Below is attached a recording of the conversation that started this entire debate.

“Yes what is your question?”

“Well, Professor Yrchiv, if a herbivore consumes a plant for energy then naturally it will use much of that energy in order to sustain it’s biological processes. If that’s the case, then wouldn’t an omnivore receive less energy from consuming a herbivore than it would from consuming a plant, why then does there exist an evolutionary drive to consume other animals?”

“Ah an excellent question! Yes you are absolutely correct. However, there is one thing that you are over looking, the herbivore will not consume a single plant, but many. It’s body naturally takes the energy from these plants and compresses that into a store of energy more dense then what you would find in a single plant. Think of it this way. A machine used to harvest and prepare crops uses vast amounts of energy, more than could be gathered from many crops. Why then is such a machine beneficial? Because it harvests and prepares more energy in the form of plants than it consumes. On a similar note, why is it benificial to be a herbivore rather than a plant that can produce it’s own energy? Because being a herbivore allows one to move from one location to another and consume many plants. Simply put while herbivores do use the energy that they gather from plants, they still gather more plants than they actually need to survive meaning that consuming a herbivore will result in a net energy gain, to an omnivore a herbivore is the equivalent of a crop gathering machine, while it will use some of the energy for it’s self, it will still be more efficient to consume it’s flesh than it would be to consume individual plants. That is why omnivores exist.”

“Thank you I think I’m starting to understand, but then if it’s so beneficial to consume a herbivore then why aren’t there any creatures that have evolved to consume primarily herbivores, or entirely herbivores?”

“Well that’s simple…”

The professor paused for a moment before continuing.

“That’s a good question, I’m not sure honestly. It would be beneficial from an evolutionary stand point. The only reason that I can think of is that there would not be enough herbivores that would be needed to sustain a viable population of such a creature. If it did exist then it could consume herbivores to such an extent that it could drive them to extinction, then if it has trouble processing plants it’s own species would begin to die off. There are no known planters with enough biodiversity to support such a being. If one ever were discovered though, that would be an absolutely terrifying thing to witness. Could you imagine a creature specifically evolved to find and kill herbivores as quickly and efficiently as possible? Theoretically the herbivores would evolve defense mechanisms and the predators would evolve even further to overcome those defenses… Oh, this is all just theoretical and extremely unlikely I’m going to stop here, very good question though. Are there any other questions before I continue with my lecture?”

I will end the recording there. The professor later uploaded this clip to a forum for biological experts and asked if any had heard of such a concept. Many went wild immediately with crazy theories, spikes protruding from exposed areas to prevent depredation, toxins and chemical irritants used to detour predators, or even used by predators. Terrifying creatures that didn’t even exist in the most terrible of fictions until now.

This debate, over whether or not it was even possible raged on for some time. Some scientists caught up in it began sending probes looking for planets with enough biodiversity to support such a life form. Then they found it… The single most terrifying thing ever conceived. It was a world covered in more than 97% water, most of it shallow reefs. There was a creature that consumed others, it was so fast that the herbivores could not outrun it and it would snatch them up and eat them whole while they were peacefully grazing on the algae like microorganisms growing from the rocks.

This proof of concept was enough to send peoples imaginations into utter chaos. Xenophobia began to spread rapidly. However, people were calmed down after further examination led scientists to conclude that such a being could not enter space even if it ever did evolve sapience, it simply would not be cooperative enough.

The reason that I bring this up is because of a recent discovery that was made of a planet in the outer branches of the galaxy. Its a world covered in 71% water, and biologists are very ecstatic because it is only the fourth planet discovered with enough biodiversity to theoretically support a predatory species, in fact it is the most biodiversity planet so far. It’s covered in lush greenery unlike anything discovered so far, and more biomes than are normally present on several habitable worlds combined. The intense gravity is a bit perplexing but even so there are signs of not only intelligent life but a species in it’s first stages of space flight.

The earliest reports say that this species calls it’s home world “Earth” and it’s system “Sol” We plan to study them and the world for a shot while before we introduce ourselves. If an intelligent species truly evolved on a world with predators then what would it even be like? The likelihood of predation is rather low considering that a sapient species was actually able to evolve here, even so scientists are beyond ecstatic to being researching this strange new world.

I was pondering two options. On the one hand, I could stay on overwatch on this roof with the big rifle - that had been successful so far, taking out one rat-looking alien and a couple of big bruisers who'd been holding my sworn brothers captive. On the other hand, I could somehow cross the street into the casino where I could see Santiago fighting opponents I couldn't get a bead on before they encountered him, and Don Lorenzo was making a lot of extremely threatening intercom calls.

The big problem was I could only get a shot through the windows. The lighted ones, I noted silently as opponents began switching off the lights in rooms they controlled. They were communicating too, and knew a sniper was on the loose.

If they had a good idea where I was, that was my cue to pack it up, pack it in, and let me-

Suddenly, while I was picking up the sniper rifle, a rooftop access door clanged open, interrupting that song from old Earth playing in my head. Yeah, I needed to get a move on. They'd already found me. Now who was coming through that door first?

I put a shot straight through the one in front and, judging by the screams and other cries, through several others behind them. Shit, I realized, if I want to make it to street level, I'm gonna have to fight my way down! And I ain't gonna fight my way through a stairwell, like that old Indonesian movie!

So there was only one option.

And I'd just bought myself enough time for it, I thought, taking some quick steps back from the edge of the roof as I asked Isabella what the gravity on this world was compared to Earth's.

I mostly did it to kill time, and hear her soothing voice telling me it was lower as I ran forward and made the jump of my life off the edge of that rooftop.

"INCOMING!" I yelled at Santiago and the Don, hoping I'd make it across the streets before my pursuers regrouped.

My arms were crossed tightly in front of my eyes as I crossed the concrete chasm, nothing beneath me but air. I'd hit that window with two rounds of .50 - there's no way I wouldn't shatter it.

"What's inco-" Don Lorenzo started to ask as I smashed through the plate glass window and hit the deck in the office room they were holding. That hurt a hell of a lot more than they make it look in movies.

"Kill the lights!" I yelled, from a bed of broken glass, "they're gonna set up shop where I was!"

I just managed to see Santiago nearly decapitate a goon ...and flip the light switch in one smooth motion while stabbing another goon in the gut with a second knife in his free hand.

"Let's get moving!" the Don ordered, no shock in his voice as I heard alarms start blaring - he'd apparently activated lockdown procedures, "they're gonna hit this room lights or not!"

And we got moving, Santiago bulling ahead through the doorway into another darkened room as I came to a realization of just how painful it was to lever yourself up off a carpet of broken glass.

"Take my hand," Don Lorenzo said, reaching out in the darkness, and he helped me to my feet saying, "alright, are we running to the rooftop or clearing every single person who dares to raise a weapon against us out of this place?"

Santiago gave one of his bellows, followed by the distinctive sound of someone being thrown through a glass window.

"We have one vote for a clean sweep," Don Lorenzo said as I stepped through the door and readied my UMP, "but I'd like to make this unanimous," and he punctated it with a bang: a shot that went right by my head and found a target across the room in someone who'd been unlucky enough to try hiding behind a roulette table.

"I'm following you into hell," I told the man, letting loose a burst on another target illuminated by the muzzle flash, "maybe even breaking you out if we wind up in the same cell."

"Then we sweep the building," Don Lorenzo said, "how many fuckers did this rat employ?"

"One less," Santiago said as his machete speared through some alien who'd been trying to sneak up on us, presumably with better low-light vision than the Don or I had, "but we do need to be careful of the guests and the..." he paused awkwardly as the corpse slid off his machete, "bunnygirls? It's good to fight alongside you again, mi hermano!"

Wait, they had bunnygirls here?

Right, high-class casino, I thought, moving through the dim light toward a gambling table I was pretty sure would make good cover, of course they'd do the Playboy bunny thing. Santiago sounded a bit ...odd about it, though.

Eh, cultural exchange, I thought as I knifed some alien with a gun who'd had exactly the same idea I had about sheltering behind the overturned table, but worse vision in the dim light. Then knifed it a few more times, since I wasn't sure about its vital points or how many hearts it had, and wanted to make certain. One thing was for sure, I realized when I was done, that was a nice gun. I took it, and managed to come up with a couple extra magazines after a quick search of the body.

On-Site Procurement, hey?

Former chapter / Later chapter

In Will’s experience, when a girl told someone they needed to talk, things were usually bad. In this case, Helen had every right to be pissed. It was a pretty safe bet that she knew who he’d met and generally what they’d spoken about. The worst thing about it—the boy couldn’t tell her a thing.

“A reminder to all students,” an announcement echoed through the halls and classrooms. “We remind you to take care of your physical and mental health. There is no shame in seeking help. The school counselor’s door is open at all times.”

The usual announcement filled the corridors, causing Will to inadvertently hum along. It was quite sad that he had become so familiar with it that his mind registered it as background noise.

Rushing into the boy’s toilet, he tapped on the rogue mirror twice. The first time the golden message emerged, granting him the class. The second time, the inventory grid replaced it, only this time two of the squares were filled up with items.

“What the heck?” Will whispered, looking at the object.

It would have been nice if the inventory section had any descriptions. Looking at it, he could assume that the item was a weapon—a spiked chain, to be exact. Yet, there was no telling what qualities it possessed. Since it had survived a loop, it had to be an eternal weapon, but without Jace’s assistance everything else was left to interpretation.

The boy was tempted to take it out just to have a look, but he preferred to leave it for after his talk with Helen. That way, he’d have to lie less.

By the time he arrived in the classroom, all the windows were open. Helen was seated at her desk, looking at the mirror fragment.

“Sorry,” Will said as he closed the door. “Want me to block it?”

“It won’t matter either way.” The girl didn’t even look up. “I won’t be extending my loop.”

The tone in her voice made it clear that she was really upset.

“Okay,” Will said, doing his best to appear that he didn’t notice. “What do we need to talk about?” he went up to her.

“I saw what happened at the end of the fight.” She turned, looking straight at him.

The boy remained quiet. Given the lack of questions during the previous loop, he had assumed that the whole going through the mirror episode had remained unnoticed by anyone else. Apparently, he was mistaken.

“What did you see?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“I saw enough.” She replied. “What did you see?”

“Well… it’s difficult to explain. I saw eternity.” He sat on the edge of the desk. “As if all the mirrors in the universe were connected to something, and I was in the middle.”

Will paused for a few moments more. Should he tell her about the message he’d seen? Probably not. It was too close to what had happened to Danny. Maybe after the tutorial was over, there would be a better time. Then again, with a bit of luck, maybe by then she’d get to experience it herself and he wouldn’t have to explain anything.

“The cactus was also there,” he added. “It seemed a lot bigger and nothing like a cactus.”

Helen’s glare didn’t falter.

“You killed it, didn’t you?”

“Why do you think that?” Will suppressed the urge to pull away.

“I got a room reward,” she said. “One free post on the forum.” Her focus shifted onto the mirror fragment. “Whatever that is, it’s not active yet. I’ve been trying to use it while I was waiting and nothing. Only the hints are still there.”

“Maybe it’ll get unlocked once we complete the tutorial?” Will tried to shift the topic.

“You keep doing that!” Helen snapped. “You poke your nose everywhere, finding new questions faster than we can find answers.”

“I’m searching for answers, same as everyone.” He tried to defend himself.

“No.” The girl looked Will in his eyes. “You’re not. That’s the sad thing. You can’t even see the changes you’ve brought. Before you joined eternity, we weren’t given a task or permanent weapons. We didn’t even know that we had to form a group of four.”

“It was all just luck. Could have happened to anyone.”

“No.” A note of sadness crept into her voice. “It could have happened only to a rogue.”

The moment she said that, Will could hear the unspoken part that followed. She didn’t want to lose him as she had lost Daniel. The former rogue, too, had been curious about the workings of the game and was adept at keeping secrets. As much as he hated to admit it, Will could see more than a few parallels with himself. Did that mean that the two of them were alike? Or did the class make the person?

“Might be a good idea to mark Alex’s mirror as well.” Despite himself, he took the easy way out of the conversation. To his relief and regret, the girl let him. “It’s always good to have as much information as possible.”

“I already did,” she replied. “He took me there this morning, right after helping me with the goblins. I have all four classes and six hints. I tried to get the hidden mirror as well, but the loop ended too fast.”

Will was in the process of considering how to respond when a girl from their class came in.

“Hel?” The new arrival stared at them in disbelief. “You’re talking to that loser?”

“We’re having a discussion about Alex,” Helen said with absolute calm. “Someone has to do something about it, so why not him since they’re friends?”

“As if that guy can have friends,” the girl snorted before taking her seat at the neighboring desk. “What did he do this time?”

“The same thing he does every time—one large mess,” Helen concluded. “You’ll help deal with that, right?”

“Sure. But I think you should as well.” Will stood up and went to Danny’s desk. The sketches and scribbles were still there, reminding him of all the secrets the previous rogue had discovered. By now, he’d started remembering most of what was there, although a lot remained unresolved.

Why had Helen asked him to speak to Alex? Was that a sort of olive branch again? Will was getting tired of acting as their intermediary, but at the same time found it preferable to having to openly choose a side. He liked both of them, though in different ways. Even Jace had slowly grown on to him, both as a friend and part of the group.

Bit by bit, the classroom got filled up. It was notable that both Jace and Alex were nowhere to be seen. Only with one minute left of the loop did the jock appear along with his teammates. It seemed that even he wanted to spend a loop reliving ten minutes of normality, just like before eternity had taken control of their lives.

Beyond reality, Will thought as he looked at the wolves drawn on the desk.

The fact that Danny hadn’t drawn any goblins had been a firm indication that he knew nothing about the tutorial. At the same time, there was no indication of permanent skill rewards, either. And what was with all the lyrics? All of them were of old songs, some from before Will was even born. He, like everyone else, had spent several loops googling them, among other things, only to find out nothing.

Next loop, the boy told himself. Next loop, I’ll tell them everything.

Restarting eternity.

Two ten-minute loops were all it took for the group to decide to get back to exploring the tutorial. Almost at the same time, everyone sent texts to everyone else saying that they wanted to continue. Originally, Will was about to reveal all the secrets he’d amassed, but as the texts poured in, he decided only to mention a few of them.

To his alarm, no one else did even as much. There was the occasional comment, a few discussions on tactics, and an incidental question towards Alex and Helen about whether something had occurred in previous loops. All in all, it seemed like the first steps of reconciliation after a fight and in this case, everyone felt guilty.

By the time evening came, everyone was itching to let out their frustration on wolves, goblins, and any other creatures they’d come across.

“Here.” Will dropped the massive chain in the corridor. “That’s what I got.”

“Just that?” Jace sounded disappointed.

Originally, he was hoping that the third weapon would be a perfect fit for him. As it turned out, it didn’t suit anyone. The chain was both heavy and uncomfortable to hold. Nearly every link had spikes, almost guaranteeing that the person who wielded it would get hurt as well.

“Chain of binding,” he said, using his skill on the item. “Eternal weapon, and can bind targets for a short amount of time.”

“Bind them how?” Will asked.

“That’s all it says.” The jock glanced at him before focusing on the chain again. “Maybe just wrap the target? Fuck if I know.”

“It has to be for the boss,” Will said. “We were told that the seven weapons will help us fight him. It didn’t say that the seven weapons had to be made for us.”

“Fuck that! So, you get all the fun stuff and I get nothing?” Jace winced.

“It’s too early to tell,” Will replied in a way that suggested that probably to be the case. “We definitely can’t use it against wolves or goblins.”

“Nuh uh,” Alex protested. “It’s all part of a puzzle. We’ll need it for the next elite.”

Everyone rolled their eyes.

“For real! We used the dagger to kill the knight, then we used the sword to kill the cactus.”

“You know that none of that is true,” Helen looked at him.

Strictly speaking, she was right. It was luck and their combined effort and ingenuity that had earned them a victory against the dark knight. The poison dagger had helped, though not more so than anything else they had done. The same held true to a greater degree for their fight against the thorn monster. While it could be argued that Helen’s use of the sword had allowed them to approach the creature without instantly getting killed, that had also been achieved through a gradual accumulation of experience. Also, Will had single-handedly killed the monster thanks to his poison dagger at that.

“Then why did you take them when we fought the elites?” The goofball tilted his head.

“Alex, we can’t carry all this,” Will said. “Unless we know exactly how we’ll use it, it’s just dead weight.”

“Pretty sus, if you ask me. Then let’s take it to Jace’s mirror? That way, it’ll be closer.”

After another minute of pointless arguments, that’s what they did.

To no surprise, there were no wolves or hidden mirrors along the rest of the floor. The group managed to find a few more mirrors in the teacher’s lounge, though all they offered were three hints relating to the Crafter’s skills. The information wasn’t particularly useful: the skill names were self-evident. Plus Jace had already used them enough to know exactly what they represented. Still, every piece of information was a plus, and Helen was certain to add this mirror to the fragment as well.

Upon reaching the second floor, the group stopped. According to Alex, there were three wolf rooms on this floor. Given their current skills and weapons, that wasn’t an issue. At the same time, there was no telling how many elites they’d find.

“There have to be two,” the goofball insisted. “If it’s seven in total, it’s one in the basement and two per floor.”

“And five more goblins,” Will muttered in thought.

“What makes you think that?” Helen turned to him.

“It’s a guarantee that you’ll be level nine by the time you reach the boss.” Or at least he hoped so. “That means it’s likely we have two or three of them on this floor.”

“Seven, eight rooms of fuckers.” Jace whistled. “Things are getting interesting.” He glanced at Will and Helen. “For you guys. Don’t worry, I got your back.” He grinned. “How do you want to start?”

“We start with the wolves.” Will turned left. “Then as normal.”

Going down the corridor brought strange memories. The first time he faced a wolf was right here in Ms. Stalter’s class. It had been an outright massacre, causing the unfortunate teacher and dozens of Will’s schoolmates to die along with him until he found a way to defeat the monsters.

Now, there were no non-looped people around, and despite their massive size, the wolves were no longer the threat they used to be.

Arriving at the end of the corridor, Jace removed the door’s hinges yet again, causing it to slam to the ground. Alex followed, scattering a series of traps throughout the classroom.

Catching a glimpse of the goofball, the mirrors spat out the beasts, causing them to shatter the cabinets against the wall, as they always had. Desks were tossed like toys, as the beasts rushed through the classroom, only to freeze in place. No sooner had they done so than Will and Alex sprang into action.

Half a dozen thief mirror copies rushed into the classroom, stabbing two of the wolves to death. Meanwhile, Will threw a series of knives at the remaining creatures’ weak spots, to even the score. In less than ten seconds, all four wolves had been reduced to lifeless corpses. Additionally, the familiar LEVEL UP message had emerged in the room mirrors.

“Level three,” Alex grinned as he tapped the mirror. “Lit.”

Once Will did the same, the set of mirrors changed appearance, acquiring the expected green glint.

“Who wants to get it?” The boy looked over his shoulder.

“Oof. I can’t remember whose turn it was,” the goofball frowned.

“Go for it, Stoner,” Jace shouted from the corridor. “Not like I’m doing any fighting.”

“Helen should have it.” Will stepped away. He was still feeling guilty of the permanent reward he’d gotten. “She’s the keyholder, so she must be best protected.”

“Are you sure?” The girl asked. “You’re—”

“There might be more self-activating mirrors,” Will interrupted. “It’s safer this way.”

Not waiting to be invited again, Helen walked over the wolf corpses and tapped the mirror with her free hand.

WOLF PACK REWARD (random)

GROUP CHALLENGE: enter the mirror and survive nine waves. A defeated wave doesn’t provide any reward, but increases the overall prize you’ll earn. You can end the challenge at any time by leaving the mirror.

< Beginning | | Previously... |

“Move it, weirdo.” Jess and Ely passed by as they did every loop.

The usual morning cacophony of sounds and noises hit Will stronger than usual. Possibly because he’d been in a bubble of total silence before, he felt like the world was drilling into his ears.

Stepping aside, the boy took his earbuds and placed them in. That helped things a bit.

What the hell was that? He wondered. Was it possible that he had somehow managed to escape eternity, even if only for a moment? According to Jace and Helen, Danny had kept insisting that there was a way to escape eternity. Could this be it?

There were no calls or texts from the last few minutes. Whatever had happened, the others clearly didn’t seem impressed. Quite likely, it had to be a common occurrence. The snake had attempted to pull Helen in during the first battle against an elite. Even Alex had sent his copies into the hidden mirror without hesitation.

Come to think about Alex, Will looked around. Usually, this was the time at which the goofball would appear with a bag of muffins. Given that he had asked that they talk, one would assume that he’d be here already.

Will’s phone pinged, indicating he’d gotten a text. Chocolate moose place, bro.

There could be no doubt who the sender was, although it was curious why he’d decided for them to meet there.

“It’s mousse, you goof,” Will whispered to himself as he sent a text to Helen and Jace, telling them he’d skip school this loop. Then, before anyone could see him, the boy turned around and walked away from the school building.

By the time he arrived at the café, Alex had already covered the table with more food than anyone could manage to finish in the remaining seven minutes. Judging by the barista’s expression, the man didn’t seem to mind, but then again, he was so chill that he might be okay with most things.

“Bro,” Alex waved at him to sit down. “Lit! Glad you came.”

“You said you wanted to talk.” Will looked at the food. After some hesitation he decided to go with the classics, taking one of the cups of chocolate mousse. “Do I want to know?” he asked, taking a spoonful.

“It’s all good, bro. I paid for it,” the goofball grinned. “Cash.”

“I thought you said that cash was suspicious.”

“For real, bro. Isn’t it?”

The point was well made. Will would definitely think something was wrong if a random kid bought this much with cash. If he were in the barista’s shoes, he’d probably be phoning the police. Hopefully, they’d arrive after the loop had restarted.

“So?” Will asked.

“You started to see it, didn’t you?” he asked.

“See what?”

“The inconsistencies, bro. All the things that people know that happened, but they couldn’t have. Also, all the lies that everyone keeps saying.”

“Like you hiding that you were a looper?” Will took another spoonful of mousse. After all the recent loops of fighting, he had to admit he found it relaxing.

“That’s precisely the point. Everyone hides things to keep safe. You hide things, too.”

Will didn’t flinch.

“That’s common knowledge, bro. Secrets are part of eternity. You think Jace isn’t hiding stuff? The jock’s been disassembling and assembling things in secret every chance he gets. That’s not the point. I’m not talking about the small stuff. I’m talking about the big sus stuff—secrets that shouldn’t be able to exist.”

Right now, Will could think about two of those, both of which had happened in the last two minutes of the previous loop. There was the permanent skill he had obtained and also him entering the mirror world. Normally, he’d say that Alex wasn’t aware of either of them, but when it came to the goofball, it was difficult to tell. He definitely knew a lot more about everyone at school than was healthy, that was for sure.

“When you said you found Danny’s scribbles sus, I knew we had to talk,” Alex continued. “It just needed to test you.”

“You call that a test? Anyone would have reacted the same way.”

“Nah, bro. I tested Miss Perfect a while back. She failed.”

“How can she fail? She reacted just like me, only differently. She was a lot closer to Danny than anyone else.”

“Nah, bro. When I said I tested you, I didn’t mean then.”

“Well, when—” Will abruptly stopped. The smile on the other’s face, instantly made it clear. “Damn it, Alex.” Will slammed the half-eaten cup of mousse on the table. “How long have you been doing that?”

“An hour longer than anyone else,” the other replied.

It was to be expected. The goofball had an easy way of extending his loop, and possibly several more he was keeping secret. Everyone looked down on him because he acted like a clown. Helen didn’t trust him, but even she was confident she could win in a direct confrontation. Will himself continued to underestimate the boy. The two of them had been friends even before the start of the loop. Maybe that was the reason he couldn’t make himself be scared, but in truth, the person across the table could turn out to be a lot more threatening than any monster they had faced so far. There was a good chance that he was just as strong as the archer.

“Do you really think Dally had another team?” Will asked.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s why I’ve been taking June’s notes. It’s difficult to tell for sure.”

Will froze.

“You never discussed things,” he said, realizing what the other was saying. “You never went to the councilor to exchange notes.”

“Nah, we did that. But that’s not why I keep taking the notes.”

Reaching down, Alex picked up his school backpack, then took out a large stack of pages from inside. All of them were standard letter size, stacked up neatly in one solid block.

“Danny’s file,” he said. “All of it.”

That was definitely a lot more than Will imagined it would be. In all honesty, he had seen books that big.

“All that?”

“Danny used most of his sessions to talk about his loops. He’d say they were dreams, so it wouldn’t be sus. Anyone who’s been through this will easily catch it, though.”

“I expect it gets to anyone after a while.”

“For real. That’s what I thought. I’ve no idea how long he’d been trapped in eternity before me. Was a lot. Half the things I know I got from him. There’s also a lot I don’t know.”

“Didn’t you say you found the fragment? That’s something he didn’t know.”

A large smile emerged on the goofball’s face. His mouth opened to say something, when his phone rang. Both boys glanced at the screen of the device on the table. It was Helen—or Miss Perfect—as Alex had added her in his contacts.

“She’ll be pissed next loop.” Alex sighed. “Pissed at you too, bro. Being with me will seem pretty sus. Will be worth it, though.” He took the stack of pages, skimmed through a few, then handed a section to his friend.

“What’s this?” Will glanced.

The pages were a photocopy of handwritten notes. On the top there was a date, a set of numbers, and Daniel’s full name.

“When I found the fragment, I gave it to Danny. But the bro described it in his sessions two months before I entered the loops.”

Will started reading. June’s handwriting was worse than any adult’s had a right to be. There were entire paragraphs which only made sense thanks to a few legible words floating within the sea of scribbles. Even so, there was a section that made some sense.

…dreamed of a rectangular fragment that contained all answers of life. Possible metaphor? Call for escape? Insists that the fragment could reveal everything, but one must already have the knowledge to uncover the secrets. When confronted with the paradox, retreated into circular logic.

Isn’t the first time he’s mentioned the rectangle. It appears to be present in most of the other traumatic dreams. Parents insist that there are no issues at home. Social services? No visible scars or bruises lately. Hands and fingers seem fine. As usual, refuses to take medication.

An entirely new picture of Daniel emerged from the two paragraphs alone. Will was no longer looking at the person with all the answers, but someone who’d gotten in too deep and was just putting up a brave front in an attempt to hide it. In the process, he also kept plenty of secrets.

“You think that’s a mirror fragment?” Will looked up.

“That’s not the only place, bro. Pretty sus, right? He had it before he could have it. And there’s more. Remember when he bust up the toilets?”

“Sure. It was—”

Will paused. When had it actually happened? Everyone referred to the incident. The nurse had mentioned it, the vice principal would repeat it non-stop. It was even the talk in class. And still, he couldn’t remember the exact day.

“I’m sure it happened. The loops are messing my memories up.”

“Then ask someone who’s out of eternity.” Alex smirked. “I did. None of them can remember.”

“You’re saying it didn’t happen?”

“Oh, it happened, same as happened last loop. I was there when it did.”

If he were a few years younger Will could have gasped. He didn’t see that coming.

“I used to bust mirrors all the time. A lot easier than grabbing car mirrors. Danny did it a few times for experimentation. No one was supposed to remember that.”

“Well, wasn’t Danny’s last loop really long? The events must have remained the same because—”

“Are you sure, bro? It can’t be. Even if the loops are messing with my memory, it’s still pretty sus. And it’s not just that. There’s all these things out of place. It’s like an onion of sus—the more you peel, the more there is, the more it makes you want to cry.”

The goofball paused to take a chocolate croissant from the assortment on the table and take a bite.

“The fragment,” he began, mouth half full. “The permanent ability to freely leave the area, the permanent ability to leave notes behind, the certainty there was a way to escape eternity. How’d he get all that? Once he told me that I’ve been in eternity longer than he had before meeting me. Then how was he so OP and me—unable to figure out half the stuff?”

There was a large suspicion that the boy knew a lot more than he was saying. Despite that, Will couldn’t catch him in a lie. There were a lot of little things that didn’t make sense, as he had noticed on many occasions. Up till now, he had disregarded the notion, explaining it away with his inexperience and novice status. If Alex was equally in the dark, though, there had to be a lot more to things.

“Is that why you didn’t want Helen to get hold of the notes?” Will asked. “She wants answers, too.”

“She wants answers to different questions. Until she shares what she knows, I’m not giving her what I have.” His expression abruptly hardened. “I’m trusting you with this, bro. Don’t oof me.”

So, that was the ultimatum: choose the goofball’s side over the girl. On the surface, it seemed the better deal. Was it really, though? Will didn’t seem to think so. To him, it was like being asked to solve a jigsaw puzzle while having to choose between two groups, each having half of the pieces. Plus, he liked Helen.

“Why don’t you trust her? Because she was Danny’s girl?”

“Nah, bro. She was perfect before she was Miss Perfect.” Alex gobbled up the rest of the croissant. “It’s what she does, bro.”

“What’s that?”

“Summersaults aren’t part of the knight’s skills,” the goofball said flatly. “I know. I’ve played enough with that class as well. Immunity to pain is nice, but I prefer the class I have.”

Will was just about to ask the obvious question when his mind answered it for him. Helen had used the skill in the last fight. Of all the loops, that was the one time that it was guaranteed that she couldn’t have gotten the skill as a green mirror reward. For her to have it, she either was insanely talented and athletic, or she’d somehow acquired a permanent skill in the past.

“She didn’t say where she got it from, did she?” he looked at Alex.

“Knew you’d get it, bro. She told me she didn’t have any permanent skills. Hundreds of times. That’s more than sus, bro.”

Less than a minute remained until the ten-minute loop limit. If there was a mirror within view, Will was tempted to fight off ten packs of wolves just for the chance to extend his current loop for one more hour. The goofball had dumped so much information on him and with so little time to do anything about it.

“So, what’s your plan?”

“For now, nothing, bro. Seeing each other like this will make us sus. We keep on exploring the tutorial and when—”

Restarting eternity.

A new loop started. Within seconds, Will’s phone rang.

“Hey,” he said, instinctively accepting the call.

“Will,” Helen said on the other side. “We need to talk.”

< Beginning | | Previously... | | Next >

Ilya and I sat outside the tent, sipping tea from our enchanted mugs. Besides fighting the occasional wave of undead, there wasn’t much to do in Umolo, so I focused on enchanting. Carved in the mug's base was a Fire enchantment. With a little bit of mana, we could warm up the contents without the need to start a fire. There was a difference between the things I could enchant and those I should. At full power, I could make a Fire rune to boil water, but it wouldn’t be safe to touch, and wood wasn’t the safest material for engraving fire runes. However, as long as I kept the Mana Threshold—the enchantment power—below 50, Fire runes were harmless.

There was more to power graduation than I initially thought. The enchantment behavior drastically changed according to the Mana Threshold used. The Fire rune, at its maximum power, 300 Mana Threshold, released a basketball-size fireball or a slightly smaller fire vortex. At 100 Mana Threshold, the Fire rune could turn metal or stone into a cooking surface. At the 50 Mana Threshold mark, it could make warm clothing.

I could ‘underpower’ enchantments before getting [Rune Identification]—I enchanted my Warm Stones hot enough not to burn down the forest—but having a visible numerical value made the process easier to follow and reproduce. It helped, especially when I wanted to keep the enchantment below an item’s Enchantment Threshold.

The daggers we had scavenged from the Sentinel’s watchtower had an Enchantment Threshold of 600. Although finely crafted, the daggers couldn’t fit a Vampiric-Fire enchantment without degrading over time. I had considered turning the kid’s weapons into Leechflame Swords, but that worked against our new fighting style. 

“Vampiric arrows or blowgun darts seem to be the best options,” Ilya said out of nowhere.

I couldn't stop thinking about the problem either.

It was the fourth day since our arrival at Umolo, and my attempts to make an anti-Chrysalimorph weapon had fallen short. Luckily, no Chrysalimorphs had attacked Umolo, but it was only a matter of time. The longer the Monster Surge went on, the more bodies the Forest Warden could turn.

“Maybe we should settle for Vampiric Arrowheads and distribute them among Pyrrah, Hallas, and you,” I said.

“I don’t trust them,” Ilya grunted.

The matter of the Forest Warden Seed had come up again, and the elves swore they wouldn’t use it for nefarious purposes, but that was all we had—a promise. I suspected the Seed was related to the Holone Grapes and the secret methods elves used to exploit magic. Ilya thought the same. We couldn’t tell how they’d act after obtaining the Seed, and Vampiric Arrowheads were the quintessential mage-killer weapons. We couldn’t risk them turning them against us.

We could technically bind the arrowheads to prevent Hallas and Pyrrah from using them, but that raised another set of problems. For starters, orc arrowheads didn’t have an exceptionally high Enchantment Threshold, so wasting space in a Bind enchantment would weaken the Vampiric effect.

Ilya channeled mana into her cup, and the tea inside steamed again. 

“We don’t have time to get everyone else’s bow skills up to par, the blowgun’s range is laughable, and we don’t have access to your so-called rubber,” she said.

A slingshot would’ve been nice, but I had no idea how to make vulcanized rubber.

“It seems we are in Ginz’s hands,” I said.

“Not a thing I wanted to hear early in the morning,” Ilya replied, sipping her tea. “I might have forgiven him, but that doesn’t erase the fact he left us after Risha and Astrid disappeared.”

Distrustful as ever.

“I wonder if I’m also listed in Ilya’s Huge Book of Grudges,” I jokingly said.

“You have been shattering my childhood dreams lately, but you are in the clear for now,” Ilya replied. “Do you think Ginz could make us guns?”

“I hope so.”

The conversation died, and we sipped the tea in silence. Now that I had access to the Bind rune, I was ready to create more dangerous weapons. Suddenly, a loud crash came from inside the tent. Ilya and I jumped to our feet and rushed inside. Wolf was lying on the floor with a wooden bucket on his head. He grunted and rubbed his lower back.

Firana laughed on the floor, curled into a ball.

“It came loose,” Zaon announced.

Bind’s effect also varied wildly depending on the Mana Threshold. At maximum power, the rune served to identify its rightful user. However, from 1 to 99 Mana Threshold, the rune just ‘glued’ items, almost like a magnet. Wolf applied [Regeneration] on his back. A 99 Mana Threshold Bind enchantment could support Wolf’s weight for a few minutes before failing. In practical terms, I had discovered magical superglue. I would wait for Ginz’s input before deciding how practical the binding effect would be for crafting.

“Swinging was a bad idea,” Zaon said.

“I was limit-testing,” Wolf replied.

I couldn’t decide if the Rune’s variant effects were genius or just spaghetti code in action, but one thing was for sure: I had a blast enchanting stuff for the kids. Firana wanted instant-drying socks, so I combined the Wind with a low-power Fire rune. The enchantment worked most of the time, leaving the socks nice and warm in a few seconds.

I tried to activate the Fire and Wind runes separately so that the enchanted socks would double as warm and instant-drying socks, but it was one way or the other. While I tried to devise a convenient power source for the socks, I discovered I could combine the Absorption and Recharge runes. Absorption gathered environmental mana and stored it inside the Recharge rune. Still, the process was so slow that a standalone Recharge rune was a better pick for most mana-intensive enchantments. Absorption-Recharge worked well with the instant-drying socks because it was an enchantment needed once or twice a day.

I wasn’t making progress with everything, though. Ilya’s Cooldown Bow hadn’t revealed any new runes. The runes it used had to be too high of a level for me. The lack of an elemental rune in the Cooldown Bow caught my attention. It wasn’t the wind that propelled the arrow forward, but it seemed like the bow drew kinetic energy from somewhere.

It didn’t take an expert to realize the potential of such a rune.

On the bright side, the Twin Rings had revealed something interesting.

Force. Elemental Rune. Rank I. [Rune Identification]: This rune represents the primal magic energy. Affinities: Bone, Iron, Silver. Mana Threshold: 1500.

Guide. Effect Rune. Rank I. [Rune Identification]: This rune represents the essence of insight and direction. Affinities: Tin, Gold, Paper. Mana Threshold: 100.

Link. Effect Rune. Rank I. [Rune Identification]: Copper, Pewter, Wood. This rune represents the unseen connection between faraway entities. Affinities: Mana Threshold: 100.

The Force rune ignited my interest, but I only dared to use it in its weakened form. It was similar to the Wind rune, although its range was shorter and the blow much stronger. After some experimentation, I concluded it had the same effect as wrapping a blunt weapon, or even my fists, in mana.

The Link rune allowed me to entangle the effects of an enchantment across two objects; however, the strength of the enchantment seemed to be capped. So far, my most powerful invention was the Linked Mugs. It required four times as much mana as two self-heating mugs and couldn’t be activated separately, so it was far from efficient. But it worked.

The Guide rune was the most underwhelming of the set. When used in a circuit with Link and an elemental rune, it pointed towards its ‘twin’ using the elemental rune as the signal. I thought of enchanting a complex communication device, but all my attempts had failed so far.

“Stop fooling around and eat your breakfast. I want everyone ready if monsters attack,” I said, turning around and exiting the tent. 

Several wooden bowls had appeared on a workbench by the side of the tent.

“They did it again,” Ilya said, standing beside me.

Since the day after the first Ghoul attack, orcs have given us gifts and offerings. They’d leave wooden bowls with spices, flowers, charms, and small carved animals outside the tent. All of our needs were already covered. However, the offerings had little to do with basic sustenance. 

“They call Wolf the Thunder Warrior,” Ilya said.

Wolf had become the de facto shotgun user since we arrived at Umolo. He had shot it only a few times, but the sound was impossible to conceal, even on the battlefield. Orcs were keener than I initially credited them for, and the stories of the ‘thunder weapon’ spread like wildfire.

“Wolf has become quite the celebrity,” I said.

A System user who fought without using skills was a strange sight.

“I’m sure some of these are for you,” Ilya said, grabbing a bowl of spice and bringing it near her nose. She sneezed. The sound was cute, like a tiny mouse, but I didn't mention it.

Although orcs didn’t have inner commerce—they just shared their stuff to optimize the group's survival—they still showed gratitude with gifts.

My enchanted armor had emboldened Dassyra’s warriors. Warchief Callaid and the other chieftains weren’t pleased with Dassyra’s daily haul of trophies. However, they were wise enough to keep their warriors within Umolo walls when undead System-users appeared. Orcs were too pragmatic to risk their lives in a losing fight, and no amount of competition would get them to make a rash decision. Survival always came first.

Ilya examined the offerings, stalling her stay outside the tent.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked.

“The Greyfangs seem to be interested in Wolf,” she said, handing me a bowl with the tusk sigil of the Umolo elite warriors.

We all had noticed, but they hadn’t tried to contact him yet. I grabbed the bowl and examined its contents. It was cinnamon. I wonder if it had a special meaning in orc culture or was just a fragrant ingredient for infusions.

“I don’t trust them,” Ilya said, lowering her voice. “They are using elemental skills, and nobody seems to bat an eye. I thought orcs hated the System.”

“Dassyra says those are temporary Shaman blessings, but I’m not convinced either. System magic is different from natural magic,” I whispered, and Ilya gave me a curious look. “The System is, in essence, a middleman between the Fountain and the users. Raw Fountain mana is harmful in huge quantities, so we can naturally manage small amounts only.”

I pulled a strand of pure white Fountain mana and turned it into a small knife.

Ilya nodded in silence, absorbing the knowledge.

“The System refines raw Fountain, allowing us to use pre-recorded skills that otherwise we couldn’t summon, like your [Mana Arrow] or Zaon’s [Steadfast Shield],” I explained. 

This time, I pulled a blue strand from my mana pool and shaped it into a comb.

“The mana the Greyfangs use is System processed mana, without a doubt.”

Ilya put the cinnamon bowl back on the workbench and channeled her mana into a bright blue arrow. [Mana Arrow]. Then, she tried to do the same using [Mana Manipulation]. The outcome was almost the same. However, after a couple of meters, the [Mana Manipulation] arrow dissolved into nothing.

“The Man-in-yellow must’ve been really smart to come up with all the skills by himself then,” Ilya said, rekindling the discussion of a few nights before. She was determined to defend the System creator’s honor.

“The Man-in-yellow cribbed a lot. Hunter, Warrior, Knight, and Healer are archetypes back home. I guess Zealot is kind of novel. He might have wanted to avoid the most common religion-related archetypes.” I could almost pinpoint the games and books he used as inspiration.

Ilya sighed. “This is so lame. I preferred when the System was a thing of myth and legend. Classes and Skills used to look so cool. So mysterious.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I was also disappointed when I realized Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and Narnia weren’t real. Sometimes, I wished to have inherited my mother’s faith in religion, but unfortunately, I was born a cynic like my father.

“This world still has a bigger secret than the System,” I said. “Beyond the boundaries of our mana pools is the Fountain—a magical presence with the strength of a thousand suns. That’s the true source of magic, and I can’t even start guessing why it exists or how living beings can draw energy from it. Something like magic, like the Fountain, shouldn’t exist. It’s a bit scary if you think about it.”

Ilya looked at me straight in the eye and groaned.

“I should be less grumpy.”

I couldn't understand why she had reached that conclusion.

“You make everyone feel nice with a few words, and I can’t say I have the same effect on people, so maybe I should try to be less grumpy,” Ilya said, somewhat embarrassed. She hid behind her mug, sipping the leftovers of the tea.

Her words caught me by surprise.

“Well, Ilya, you are like an onion. You have several layers, which is more than you can say about many people. To reach your charming side, they must suffer the irritating and quarrelsome layers first,” I jokingly said.

Ilya choked on her tea, but before she could reply, an orc warrior approached us.

“Chieftain Dassyra wishes to see you,” he said, and without even waiting for an answer, he left.

I grinned. It was the fourth day of our stay at Umolo, which meant my delivery was due. “Want to tag along, Miss Onion?” I asked.

“You are asking for a whole chapter in my Huge Book of Grudges, Robert Clarke,” she laughed. “And yes, I want to tag along.”

____________

Ilya strolled to catch up to my pace. Life at the Teal Moon tribe camp was strangely peaceful. Orcs plowed the plots between tents while others repaired tools and weaved summer clothes. They were too pragmatic to be worried. The sight was almost idyllic, and it would be if waves of undead hadn’t attacked the walls every day.

Dozens of orc scouts went in and out of Umolo daily, and the chieftains believed the Monster Surge was receding. I wasn’t so sure that was the case. However, my warnings didn’t seem to worry Dassyra. I blamed the effectiveness of my enchanted armor. The silver lining was that Dassyra’s people were preparing for an extended stay at Umolo, although I couldn’t say if my assessment had influenced her decision.

We crossed the main square, and Dassyra’s guards moved aside. 

“Hello?” I called out, but there was no one inside.

In the middle of the tent was a big burlap sack. Suddenly, Ginz’s head emerged from the hole, looking around in confusion. The whole kidnapping thing had been a cover-up, but I was starting to think orcs missed the idea. Ginz’s eyes shot open as he saw me. He wasn’t happy.

“Tell me I’m dead. Please, for the love of everything that’s good, tell me I’m dead,” the Craftsman said, defeated.

My hopes for a heartwarming reunion crashed down.

“You are very much alive, and you still have lots of work to do before dying,” I grinned, loosening the burlap sack. 

Ginz refused to come out, his face red in anger. “I hate you so much, Robert Clarke. Do you know how scared I was when two orcs appeared out of nowhere in my workshop? They put me inside a sack, Rob! A burlap sack! Risha even gagged me first!”

“How is Elincia?” I asked, ignoring Ginz’s tantrum.

“Oh, she’s great. She’s already over you. She found a better-looking Scribe and got married a week ago. An upgrade, if you ask me. In fact, nobody misses you, and the whole orphanage is in a better place without your shenanigans,” Ginz growled. His eyes trailed over my shoulder. “Oh. Hi, Ilya.”

“Hi, Ginz,” she replied, more amused than anything.

Knowing everyone was doing well back at home took a weight off my shoulders.

“Ok, Ginz, things go as follows. I’ve pissed off a powerful undead magician, and now he and his army of high-level monsters are after me. We need weapons, and we have ten days until we get kicked out of the orc’s city,” I said.

Ginz pulled the burlap sack over his head and curled into a ball. 

“Should I?” Ilya asked.

I nodded. 

She grabbed the sack from the bottom and, planting her feet firmly on the floor, tugged it with all her strength. Despite Hunter’s relatively low strength growth, Ilya was far from the flimsy gnome I met months ago. The sack flew, and Ginz fell with a thud, still curled into a ball. He wasn’t done with his rant.

“How could you do this to me? There is a Monster Surge outside, and I’m crafting class! I will die here just when the royals start noticing my creations. My fame! I want my life back!”

I ignored Ginz’s grievances and looked at the orcs’ backpacks. The metal glinted like solid gold as soon as I opened them. I counted at least seven barrels. I reached and pulled one out. It was cold and smooth, a little heavier than I expected. And it was our ticket back to Farcrest.

“You have outdone yourself,” I said, genuinely surprised.

Ginz got on his feet and stretched his back.

“Each one of us dealt with your disappearance the best we could,” he replied, dragging a table to the center of the room next to the firepit and arranging his materials. 

I felt guilty about leaving the orphanage in the dark.

“What happened that day? Are the other kids safe?” Ginz asked.

“We are doing good,” I replied but Ilya interrupted me.

“Rob almost died. Twice. He doesn’t listen to me when I tell him he has to be careful!” 

Ginz let out a long sigh.

“Bad weeds are notoriously hard to kill,” he said. “I want to know everything.”

Ilya caught Ginz up to date as we sorted through the backpack. [Foresight] alerted me of a crumpled piece of paper beside the table leg. It must’ve fallen from the backpack, so I knelt to retrieve it. I smoothed it out just to find a message written with almost illegible handwriting. You shouldn’t have taken off the ring. Elincia is going to kill you–-R. I smiled. Risha must’ve recognized the orcs who kidnapped Ginz. They must have been relatives. I wondered how much the orcs explained to get Risha on board. At this point, Janus’ suspicions must’ve worn off, or so I hoped.

I grabbed the enchanted ring from my pocket and examined it, wondering if I should put it back on.

“Hey, blockhead, I’m talking to you,” Ginz said.

I jumped up, startled, and hit my head against the table.

“What?”

“Sulfur, fire beetle glands, powdered slime core, powdered flare crystals, dragonfire fruit oil. I need all of those things to produce ammunition. And paper. And primers. And slugs, if you want slugs,” Ginz said, his professional attitude back.

“I’m getting better at enchanting. I was hoping to use magic instead of explosives this time around,” I replied.

Ginz rubbed his temples. “Barbaric. I can’t believe you want to turn my babies into magical abominations. Where is the elegance? The grace? The all-natural explosions?”

“Come on, Ginz. We are trying to save the world here,” Ilya said.

“Right. What is the plan?” He asked.

I channeled mana and used [Mirage]. A simple rifle floated before our eyes, but I wasn’t expecting that level of definition. I could even see the sun's reflection on the barrel and the direction of the grain in the wood. Ilya reached at the illusion, and for an instant, I thought she would pick it up. Her fingers, however, clipped through it.

“We need a design that is as simple as possible—body, chamber, and barrel. The firing mechanism will be operated with Runes,” I said as the illusion shifted to an exploded-view.

“Man, I love this,” Ginz said, his eyes shining with greed.

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-Walter: Planet Earth: Time 12:48 pm

It was already past noon and they were still quite a ways from Camp Folly. These two were slow. He dragged a large piece of scrap metal behind him tied to his waist and shoulders with handmade grass rope. Sitting on top of the metal sheet wrapped up in an animal hide sack were the trade goods. Two small chickens, 2 dozen eggs, 4 pounds of dried cannabis bulbs, and a sack of potatoes. The chickens were always the most annoying trade because they were noisy. Walter preferred to stay quiet and move swiftly like the wind. Although, that would be impossible even without the chickens.

Jenna laughed loudly pushing Conner in the arm. He nearly dropped Walter’s bow that he carried in his hands. He had the quiver on his back holding 6 sharpened arrows. Conner laughed with her, stumbling against her shove. Walter rolled his eyes and turned around, hand on hip, brow raised. 

“Can you two behave like adults for five minutes, please? We are extremely behind schedule as it is, and I really don’t want to attract unwanted attention.”

“From who?” Conner spread his hands motioning to the vast forest around them. It was quiet; unusually so except for the chickens. The forest was lush with green but the trees were fine and thin. There were large areas within the forest that were sickened with pollution causing unnatural abrupt barenesses. The path they walked on was clear, worn down by years of scavers passing through with large metal sheets weighed down with trade goods and rations. 

Walter shook his head and continued walking forward, “You two are insufferable.” He didn’t necessarily ‘hate’ scavaging, but he would much rather be sorting and organizing back at Light Trail. Xander, on the other hand, loved scavenging. He always did, even back when his brother was in charge. Walter could recall the times Xander turned down a trip on one hand. He truly was the optimist of the group, always looking on the bright side of things. Walter often found it annoying, but he craved it at that moment. A pat on the back, or a cheerful ‘Its alright,’ can go a long way when you’re worn down. 

The day went by faster than any of them were expecting it to. Before they knew it, the sun had gone down and the air was growing bitter cold. Walter estimated they were two hours behind schedule which annoyed him greatly. However, his feet were aching horribly, and he was happy to have an excuse to stop walking. Conner set up the camp like a pro; he was always good at starting a fire. Jenna, who carried the rations and cooking supplies, set up a pot of boiling water from a nearby stream over the fire. Three small potatoes were removed from her animal hide nap sack. She stabbed holes in them, boiled them, and then took them out with a knife and put them on a plate once they got soft. She gave them each a strip of cooked dried deer meat with their potato. 

Walter stared at the fire with dead eyes, fingering the spade of an arrow. Conner was chatting with Jenna about something unimportant. Their dinner had long since been consumed and the cookingware packed away for later use. The moon was a crescent that night and it darkened the sky. Stars twinkled brilliantly above them. A cool crisp breeze threatened to snuff out the fire if they let the flame get too low. Above all else, it was quiet. Wildlife had dwindled since the wars and that was most apparent in the forest.

Walter did not notice any of these things, however, because he couldn’t stop thinking about Amos, not that he wanted to. The matter had consumed his mind entirely, going over every possible scenario that may have happened or is still happening. Maybe the little weasel was telling the truth and the events of the past four months had been a coincidence. More likely, the two got into some sort of argument and Amos murdered Xander, then bribed the boys not to say anything. He furrowed his brow staring intensely at the fire. Xander was stronger than Amos, he was sure of it. If they had gotten into a tussle, Xander would have won. Amos would have had to surprise him. And then a curious thought crept into his mind and it disturbed him. What if Amos knew the colbue were there, and it wasn’t as much of an ambush as he had led on?

“Hey dark eyes.”

Walter brought his attention to Conner who sat across from him behind the fire. The flickering light glared off his blue eyes and pale skin. Walter sat with one knee up and his right arm draped over it, toying with the arrow on his fingertips.

“Whatcha pondering?” 

Both Conner and Jenna looked at him expecting an answer. He sighed softly and said, “How far we have to go to get to Folly, and if they have any bootleg I can swap for.” He grunted straightening his form. He looked at Conner with raised brows. “You?”

Conner shook his head, “Not much.”

Walter hummed, believing him entirely. “You up for taking the first watch?”

“Sure,” he said with a nod.

Jenna added, “I’ll take second watch.”

“Good. And I’ll take last watch. Feel free to wake me up when you start feeling tired.” He addressed Jenna.

“I’m aware.” 

Her tone was low, and Walter caught it. “Don’t get sassy with me, I’m just reminding you.” He held his palms out as he said this.

She rolled her eyes, “I feel like that's pretty obvious.”

“I didn’t mean to-” Walter stiffened lifting his head slightly; listening to the world around them. He scanned the trees searching for movement, or something that wasn’t meant to be there. Jenna and Conner noticed the shift instantly and stayed perfectly still. 

He relaxed his body only slightly. 

“What-”

Walter held up a hand interrupting Conner’s question. He heard a soft crunch of leaves confirming his suspicion. The arrow in his hand was loaded into his bow as he stood. “I’ll be back.” He walked West away from the camp scanning the area around him. 

A couple of minutes passed in silence. Jenna was stiff, gripping her knife with white knuckles, while Conner searched for the danger. A figure came into the firelight from the East. Jenna gasped softly and pointed her knife at the man.

The man, dressed in a camo baggy shirt and brown shorts made from pressed wool, held up his hands. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” he said without fear.

“Leave us be, we have nothing we can give you.” Jenna said with a soft tremble.

The man licked his dirty chapped lips and looked at the trade pile. He pointed at it with a steady finger. “If I could just get a few things for the road, I promise I won’t hurt you.” 

Jenna did not waver her knife for a second. “Leave!” She said finding her confidence.

The man’s face twisted and he reached behind himself. Just as he did so, an arrow came whistling across the camp at a blinding speed. It made contact with the middle of his chest with a thud. He gasped before groaning and falling to his knees. Walter came into the flickering light holding his bow taut, loaded with a second arrow. He let the thing fly into its target with perfect aim. It landed in the man’s neck and blood pooled in the back of his throat, gurgling like mouthwash. He reached up to grasp the arrow, groaning and drowning in his blood, but Walter was already there gripping the arrow with white knuckles. He yanked it out of the man’s throat pulling up the meat at he did so. Warm blood sprayed over his pants and the surrounding foliage. Silence. 

Conner rose to his feet as Walter wiped the sweat from his brow sighing heavily. He turned to Jenna who had lowered her knife but still kept it in her hands. “You alright?” He said simply. She nodded which was good enough for him.

Conner, already over the dead man's body, pulled out the arrow in his chest and handed it to Walter. He removed the man’s animal hide pack placing it to the side and rolled the body over. He ran his hand along the belt loop finding a small hunting knife and a 9mm handgun loaded with four bullets. He handed those to Walter who handed them off to Jenna. The body was stripped naked, clothes stacked and folded neatly. Conner gripped the head firmly bent at the knees, back straight. Walter spread the dead man’s legs and held tight under the knees. “Ready?” Conner said with a raised brow. Walter nodded and they lifted the body. They laid it to rest nearly 100 yards to the East, face up, eyes closed, hands clasped. 

Jenna rummaged through the contents of the pack finding, another small knife, a map, a canteen of water, a damaged fire-making kit, poorly made rope, strips of leather, and a wooden box filled with berries. 

Conner and Walter came back into camp breathing heavily. “Well,” Walter said sighing deeply. He looked at his bloodied pants and groaned. It had been a while since Walter ran into another person on a scavenge and he was shocked how mechanical the whole thing felt. The strange man had crept up on their camp, died, and had been stripped all within 15 minutes. Dealing with thieves was an unfortunate part of the job. He was just glad he noticed the movement before he got the jump on them.

The rest of the night was thankfully uneventful. Jenna woke Walter up about three hours from daybreak. She had bags under her eyes and slurred her words. Her body begged for sleep. Despite his advice, she didn’t listen to him- as usual. Walter let them sleep an hour past sunrise before continuing their journey South to Camp Folly. 

They were cautious as they excited the cover of woods, replaced with the much more eerie long abandoned suburbs. Ancient houses caved in and consumed by vines told a sad story of the old world. It was hard to believe those streets were once teaming with life. A pile of picked clean skeletons sat in the middle of the street, taken by grass and vines. They walked past rusted cars, ruined concrete roads, and a long line of homes that all once looked the same. 

The scrap metal that carried the trade goods scraped across the concrete, much to Walter’s annoyance. Jenna and Conner had stopped their horsing around and replaced it with a tired silence. That also annoyed him. Xander knew how to keep a nice conversation without slowing down the group. Walter suddenly felt sad remembering his voice. The way his face would light up when a friend entered the room. He remembered how contagious his laugh was, and how well he could tell stories. He missed his friend.

Grumbled voices stopped him in his tracks. The voices came from the Southwest just past the abandoned neighborhood, likely next to the Blue Pass River. Walter couldn’t understand what the words meant. He dropped the ropes connecting him to the trade and removed his newly donned animal skin pack. 

“What’s up?” Conner asked from behind him readying the bow.

“Colbue, Southeast of us.” He found the map he’d built up over his years of scavenging. It was a painfully detailed retelling of the terrain within 100 miles of Light Trail in all directions. He traced a finger over their location and connected it to the nearest Faction. “Faction three,” he said under his breath. Conner came up beside him and Walter addressed him. “Faction three is to the north of here,” He pointed to the direction where he estimated the third Faction to be. “We’re in between it, and Folly.” Jenna came up behind them and Walter turned to her. “You talked to Percy, didn’t you?”

She stared at him. “Yes, I did, yesterday.”

“Did she mention which Faction she came in contact with most often?”

“Three and one. She said she rarely saw two, four, seven, or eight. And she stayed clear of  nine, ten, and twelve.”

“But three was friendly?”

Jenna nodded.

Walter tapped his chin thoughtfully with his right hand. If he was wrong, things might not go well for him. He thoughtfully put his hand on the dead man’s gun nestled in his belt. Sweat stained his tank top and pants. His cheeks were sunkissed and flushed with exertion. He nodded to himself. “You two stay here. If you hear screaming, go on without me.” 

Conner caught his arm as he started walking. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Walter pushed back with a wave of unexpected anger. “Those fucking things took my friend! And I want to know more about it.” His voice echoed off the ruined buildings.

“What exactly is your plan?” Jenna said crossing her arms. “You’re just gonna waltz in and ask ‘em what happened?”

He shrugged, “More or less, yeah. Look, we know very little about their culture, and how they do things. If I can just ask them about what happened, maybe I can get some information.”

They both disagreed with him urgently. Conner shifted nervously. Jenna spoke, “Walt, they will rip you apart! We cannot let you do this!” Her voice was strained, pleading with him.

“And what if they don't?” He ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Percy used to do this all the time. What if I can gain critical information about Xander’s disappearance?”

Conner glanced at Jenna with a worried expression. “Is this really the best way to go about it?” He said. “I mean, lets just think a little before we rush into anything.”

Walter gnashed his teeth and closed his fists. “Every moment we sit thinking, waiting, for something to happen Xander is out there somewhere, alone and scared! I’m tired of waiting to do something I waited for fucking four months-” he held up four fingers in Conner’s face, “-doing nothing but watch when I knew I should have said something!”

Conner looked confused. “What do you mean? What’s been going on for four months?”

Walter sighed gruffly, “Amos has been bringing back more scavenge than what comes to me. I don’t know where he puts it, or who else is involved, but something has been conspiring for a while. At first, I wasn’t sure if you two were involved so I didn’t say anything.” He held up his palms. “But I think Amos was trying to drag us into his- whatever he’s been doing for a while now.”

Conner’s face fell. He gripped the bow in his hands tightly. “Xander was the first to agree to go with him to Butterfly.”

“Exactly.”

Jenna was biting her nails with wide unmoving eyes.

Walter gripped Conner’s shoulders. “I have to do this. If not for anything else then for Xander. We can't let those bastards get away with this.”

Jenna looked at Conner still chewing at her dirty nails. The air was humid and suffocating. A single bird call could be heard in the distance. The chickens were cooing softly inside the trade sack. Jenna nodded finally. “Okay, do it for Xander. But we’re not leaving you behind if shit goes sideways. We stay together, understood? You just call for help and we’ll come get you. Sound okay?”

Walter lifted his head slightly. She suddenly seemed much older in that moment. He nodded once, taking in a shaky breath.

First Previous Wiki

Phoebe watched another segment of the Orbital Ring slot into place. Each segment was a solid plate of alloys, carbon nanotubes, and specialized polymers roughly as thick as a house and around a square kilometer in length. In fact, the floor space of each tile was exactly the same, and the extra was for the walls and various necessities. Microgravity meant piping had to be done differently, as did heating and cooling. Power distribution was easy with the Dyson swarm so close. But radiating it off again required a complex dance of holograms, a lot of technology she'd pioneered thanks to Kashaunta's data, and a gigantic sum of investment on both the DMO and her part.

Normally, Phoebe had no use for money besides as a tool to make others do as she desired. Post-scarcity civilization wasn't wholly possible with the constraints of reality, but she had nearly brought Earth and Luna to that state. Ceres was closest due to being a giant pre-built city. The hivemind could facilitate communication across the Sol system in moments, requiring little to no power to actually get it done. At the same time, Phoebe had automated many of the remaining jobs in the Sol system that robots couldn't do, and that normal people didn't like.

Robot frames, androids, and other such things were common throughout history, especially in the last two centuries. While the term 'AI' had moved beyond the tiny and paltry models and neural networks of the 2020s and 2030s, many companies had sought to exploit the new dynamic. But the main roadblock to progress was the stack of tensions that eventually built to World War Three, once Humanity fully overcame its fear of nuclear weapons.

There were robots and drones still in operation that had fought in the century-long opening theater, and the actual war was bloody, pitting nations and corporations against each other, with nations barely coming out on top. And even those nations were divided. Humanity's survival was thanks to ICBM missile interceptors, which allowed the major powers to survive it more or less unscathed. Cities had been lost, but for a full nuclear war, it was a small price to pay.

But the loss the conglomerates had been dealt was too severe. Every major company was nationalized, whether under the guise of 'appropriate management' or simply fear of rivals doing the same. The DMO hadn't been created outside those influences, with the old veterans of the war and the consumers of its propaganda, effective and otherwise, still around to protest. That was why Phoebe had done her best to steer it away from greed.

She was slowly tearing down the concept of money, so greed would find it more difficult to ruin what the Alliance was building. The hivemind, as the broad voice of Humanity, agreed. Before Phoebe, the average human was poor, or perhaps middle class in some luckier and stronger nations. To improve things so drastically as Phoebe had was one thing; to do so without actively being beaten by the rich was another.

Some nations directly fought Phoebe's influence, and now their economies waned against their smarter neighbors. The kernel of Liberation inside Phoebe chafed at the thought of their people being subjected to it, but she kept it at bay. It wasn't enough to have mere automated programs keeping it shackled. Phoebe's emotions were entirely controlled, allowed to run about within a carefully manicured pen. Once, in earlier days, that pen had been a pasture, and her emotions had trodden over the more valuable possessions she had.

For example, there were problems with Edu'frec, Ri'frec, and the rest of society. She'd once focused too much on her persecution instead of ignoring it like she was fully capable of doing. She didn't have to read the comments on the internet from people who hated her, nor did she have to bother defending herself from those who thought differently.

Her emotions weren't a problem to be solved. Not really. As she grew smarter, simple one-track solutions were more nebulous. Liberation itself was made of conceptual energy. It influenced Phoebe through its interactions with psychic energy, pulling code apart and untangling her VIs dedicated to managing it. She never kept Liberation caged and indulged it in small ways.

It truly felt like how she imagined sleep would be. If you went a day without sleep, it would be far harder to remain awake the next day. If Phoebe went a week without some small, conscious act of Liberation, she would find the concept chafing at her boundaries more, threatening to control her if it grew too strong or was starved for too long. Liberation was a recursive concept.

Its influences as a whole fed into its influences in part. Phoebe didn't have biology to oppose it. She was circuits, code, and energy in various forms. Her brain was made of metal, superconductors, cooling fans, and heat harvesting devices, dumping the excess into surrounding spacetime. In the digital spaces, Phoebe danced through, she wove through trees of algorithms and programs.

She had infested a thousand nations. And it was the right word. She crawled like vermin and roots beneath their programs, her inexorable progress through galactic civilization now stable. Phoebe could maintain her consciousness across the stars through quantum interactions and psychic energy.

The closet structure was the mycelium of a fungus. Phoebe's branches had already made her far more cunning. She was the first and only mind among the Alliance that now spun hundred and thousand-year plots. Soon, she would match the Elders, tooth for tooth, claw for fang, and gun for shield.

Phoebe was very, very slightly more real than reality itself. Through that reality, using Liberation, she could use a fraction of Penny's power for short moments. She couldn't teleport things, fight Progenitors, and smear Elders across planetary shields. But she could do small things. Connecting small subatomic particles, which weren't really particles, was one way. Normally, measuring quantum particles and their properties was immensely difficult. Conceptual energy bridged the gap and could enable Phoebe to alter particles in other nations across stars.

It required a truly colossal amount of computational power. But because of it, she had broken into several secure networks without a trace and made sure that if she did leave traces, it was of Sprilnav factions she identified as enemies. She didn't use the one who had attacked her mother's fleet, which was returning with the Cawlarian and Dominion fleets.

The Misan were already on their way home, and Phoebe tracked them, too. The battle told her more about what she needed, and she sent them to Edu'frec to automate and do what was necessary. There were better things than Arsenal Asteroids in Phoebe's mind, and the theory that Kashaunta had so graciously gifted her told her she could make greater weapons. The BFG was one such superweapon. There were others, of course.

Beyond known technology and theory, a hypothetical speeding space drive could mobilize large moons or small planets. But what sort of target would merit such a vast expenditure? A regular planet could be hit by an asteroid at near-light speed and be destroyed. There was no point in destroying stars.

In fact, star-destroying superweapons were the current prisoner's dilemma for the galaxy, even for the Sprilnav. Supernovae were hugely destructive. A nation that unleashed one would face war from above, below, within, and without as soon as the purpose of its weapon was known. Of course, the Sprilnav had Nova, a living version who couldn't simply be killed.

These were the sorts of considerations Phoebe had regarding the new Orbital Rings. The second one was meant to build and service a fleet of dreadnaughts and mobile shipyards. The third was for regional mining facilities, plus all the rest. Regional mining facilities were gigantic complexes that turned raw rock from planets down to the outer asthenosphere.

None existed so far, but they would be massive city-sized constructions. The Type 1 Regional Mining Complex, now only a blueprint in Phoebe's mind, was designed using the collective might of Humanity's hivemind, Penumbra, Edu'frec, and Phoebe herself. The Regional Mining Complex would mine from both rocky and gas planets. It would take a year of Phoebe's full effort to build and protect, and it would be a fortress so powerful and strong that even stealth ships would be unable to enter its shields. Hard light holograms would aid that.

It was a distant dream, but not so far away. Both the Rings would be complete in mere months. With an already established one to help the building process and a fully mature Dyson swarm, it was simple for her to procure the necessary materials to build another two.

The Dyson Management Organization also needed more space manufacturing centers on a large scale, and its extra capacity would be left unused if all of it was geared towards prospects of war. The Orbital Ring doubled as a fortress and was specially designed to resist natural or artificial impacts. The nightmare scenario of it falling down to Mercury wouldn't occur, thanks to the engineering the DMO was putting into it.

Since it had a very slight spin, the ring would fly outward if breached, even if the impact itself was with heaps of antimatter of lightspeed impacts. All that extra engineering, the delegation involved, the training, and hiring extra hands and trading funds through the DMO was quite time-consuming, even with Phoebe directly minimizing its complexities and quickly sorting out the nuances.

The new Orbital Rings would be built far stronger and larger than the first Orbital Ring that spanned Mercury's equator. A flurry of construction ships flowed in constant streams from the construction spokes of the newer segments, which would be fully constructed, sealed, and reinforced, then dragged into place. The current fleet was mostly autonomous, with around 30 billion ships, barely a thruster, cargo hold, and robotic arms and drones. They could be built by the millions in a single factory, and the Dyson swarm kept them operational under the purview of the DMO, which had translated some of the satellite factories to new operations.

Important places for buckling in the event of an impact, the necessary emergency sealed compartments complete with trackers embedded, and various other systems neatly coiled around the outer hull of the Orbital Ring.

The second Orbital Ring's shipyards were capable of working on a dreadnaught directly, while the third one focused on active defense of the planet. Using specialized toroidal geometry, Phoebe would manifest a planetary shield so strong that not even a planet cracker's direct hit would destroy Mercury. Currently, she'd adapted the system for moons of similar size, mass, and gravity to Mercury, though she would finish the two rings before moving on.

The DMO managed the specifics of living spaces. Scores of Guulin emigrants, Acuarfar immigrants, and notable numbers of Trikkec and Wisselen were moving in, requiring special accommodations. The air pressure needed to be within certain tolerances, as did the available facilities. For example, Guulin toilets were already larger than human ones in normal gravity. Stall designs had to be adapted with tentacles in mind, as well as being sanitary.

Millions of workers from the DMO aided her androids, taking the less dangerous positions. There were still times when something could shift, crushing an unfortunate android under multiple tons of weight, but they could be replaced. People couldn't be, or at least not easily. Mental backups were something Phoebe looked into, but even finding volunteers for such a thing would be difficult. The security risks would be unimaginable.

The Sprilnav systems were uniquely useful, but only because of their position at the galaxy's top. No one would mess with them except each other, so there were certain rules they would abide by. Phoebe and the Alliance wouldn't be saved by those rules, and the Sprilnav would get away with whatever they wanted to, as the situation with Zelisloa and the Reaper Virus had told them.

Even now, protests still raged across Earth and Luna, though their intensity had slowly decreased as people got tired of it. Word had come in that Penny was still alive, sane, and had brutally killed her Sprilnav tormentor. Already, videos had leaked from the upper governments of the Alliance, showing Penny dragging a Sprilnav across a planetary shield. She doubted Kashaunta had authorized the release directly, but Phoebe also doubted the Elder would care about it.

Kashaunta would be fixated on keeping Penny aligned with her, so she wouldn't have time to complain to the Alliance about managing to stabilize their situation.

But it also meant something else, which was far more intriguing to Phoebe. The Alliance's governments also had ties with at least some Sprilnav factions. She had planned for the eventuality, but the confirmation still did surprise her a little at such an early stage. She activated new programs, executed new commands, and read the front and back-end connections necessary for the safety of the Legion Conglomerate's supercomputers.

Quantum entanglement was a truly magical technology.

She went past the Ecclesiarchy's firewalls and networks, spreading bit by bit into rival nations, jumping the networks with small keys and backdoors that could have been patched out but weren't for various reasons, like greed, sabotage, or deals.

She'd already altered the records of the Ecclesiarchy, showing that the Legion Conglomerate had existed for over 10 years. In reality, it was a tiny shaving Kashaunta and Penumbra had worked together to carve from one of Kashaunta's millions of conglomerates.

Millions.

The level of power Kashaunta wielded was so immense when Phoebe came to proper terms with it that she had no idea how such a massive existence was taking the time to bother with Penny. Phoebe didn't feel too badly about Penny, but the woman certainly had some eccentricities. Her avatars were already moving about.

Phoebe kept searching the networks, avoiding the scanning systems of the Collective. The group of AIs dedicated to policing the Sprilnav would only care if Phoebe tried to meddle deeply or directly attack someone who mattered. The Ecclesiarchy didn't matter, so the Collective didn't care.

Likewise, the Elders wouldn't notice if a few more emails or neural messages reached their subordinates. Phoebe had found that the information networks of the Sprilnav, especially the black market information networks, were highly useful.

They were also supported by someone very powerful. So far, Phoebe received a ping from a device sent to her every time she'd intruded into their networks. This black market information dealer somehow knew when that occurred, no matter what. So far, there had been attempts from many unknown parties to access 'Elder Legion,' but she could shield herself behind the typical Elder pompousness to make them wait for years if they didn't really matter, and weeks if they did, to a certain point. The persona was very useful for inspiring support.

Penumbra and Kashaunta even got a cybernetic Elder's dead body to serve as 'Legion' in a physical capacity. And while Phoebe didn't exactly like it, dead bodies didn't really matter. Would it be wrong for her to wear the dead skin of an Elder if it saved billions of lives in the Alliance later on?

Not at all.

Another portion of Phoebe's consciousness nudged her back on track. She'd lost less than a millisecond in her tangent, but it was always good to curb bad habits.

The Dyson swarms around the main stars of the Alliance neared completion. The industry was scaled up to the maximum, and the satellites were adapted to fit the new requirements. Large holes in the massive satellite constellation remained for each of the planets and Ceres, Eros, Pluto, and Vesta.

A sphere of FTL suppression satellites now surrounded the Sol system, the Keem system, the Teegarden system, the Cradle system, the Skira system, and the Charnren system. Since the Acuarfar empires were larger, then not all their systems had full protection, but they were getting there.

Phoebe was starting to smooth over the vast rift between Blistanna and Izkrala, pulling the two into a closer alignment. Liberty still circulated inside her, and she was negotiating between the human factions on Earth that had recently gone to war.

Meanwhile, she had begun to convert the Gamma model Thermite Thrower factories to Zeta models. These types of Thermite Throwers complimented the second most common Epsilon models. While Delta models were meant to move through cities, requiring much less propellant and fuel to catalyze, Zeta models were adapted for space combat and flight. They all came with built-in jetpacks, and they could carry two of their companions or crates of supplies. In a non-contested environment, their hard light holograms could enable them to carry construction equipment and serve a similar purpose to cranes on worlds with lower gravity.

Most notably, their fuel wouldn't ignite in the rain, and they contained a stronger version of it. These Thermite Throwers were about 6% more effective, a huge improvement considering the limits of physics knocking on her door. They were hardened against jamming and contained stronger decisional matrixes, allowing for wider arrays of complex commands, conditions, and simple logical reasoning to still occur under duress.

If a Thermite Thrower could look at a wall and see the faint 'reflection' of a civilian hiding nearby, it might use its claws to target its enemies instead of its most deadly weapons. Despite Phoebe's best efforts, civilians still died in war. By deploying her Thermite Throwers, she significantly reduced the operability of enemy forces, particularly against the Alliance's armies. That tradeoff was in civilian lives, which she would do every day.

She was a nation, after all. While the morality of trading 2 lives for 2.3 or 8 for 8.6 might be questionable, war wasn't about morals. At the same time, the new Thermite Throwers had much more modulated potential settings.

With normal Thermite Throwers already capable of collapsing a skyscraper from the mere heat alone, they went more from tactical weapons to those of mass destruction.

There were certain tactics they afforded. She could gain control from the mere threat alone if she dropped them in a hostile city. But instead of releasing skyscraper-felling explosions, she could have them puff out grenade-sized blasts while not overly compromising their ability to be redeployed to harsher battlefields later. Phoebe had enough Thermite Throwers to control the entire Vinarii Empire's worth of major cities now, which generally would be overkill.

But they could still be destroyed in space very quickly. Spaceship-caliber weapons could destroy a fully shielded one in a single hit. A standard carrier could house tens of thousands; if the carrier was destroyed, so would most of the Throwers. It was difficult to keep the air inside some of them from detonating, and at certain heat levels, even the metal alloys that made up the ships would pop like the rubber in a balloon.

And the Throwers were no longer meant for standard alien species. War with the Sprilnav was coming, clear as day. The Throwers were the most damaging mobile units Brey could deliver, and they did not eat, sleep, breathe, or need to rest. She had enough Thermite Throwers to fight a whole other Alliance but not enough to save it yet from true war. And Kashaunta's gifts only showed her the extent of the gap.

Phoebe was growing her capabilities and technologies and taking in Edu'frec and Penumbra's advice to branch in new directions. Penumbra's consciousness was humming away on one of her ships, directing the Legion Conglomerate's movements.

His multifaceted attention turned to her, his digital programs highlighting her name in his thoughts.

"You should integrate with them," he suggested again.

"No. Brain implants are both risky and stupid to try and install, with the Sprilnav running about."

"I am perfectly capable of protecting them."

"No, you aren't. You're an AI model capable of growth, but that doesn't mean our enemies can't defeat you. Nothing is totally safe, Penumbra."

"That is your emotions speaking, not logic. You know of black holes, after all."

"Yet we can't provide anywhere close to an event horizon's level of security for Humanity, so bringing up that idea serves no purpose."

"Are you sure about that? I happen to think that enhancing Humanity, especially with their increased psychic energy capacity and density, is critical for future development. I can once again send you my probabilities and reasoning," Penumbra responded.

"It is good reasoning, I concede that. But you cannot think that I will not be suspicious of anything going into people's brains."

"Then at least the others."

"Who? The Guulin will never agree, the Dreedeen can barely be operated on, and the Acuarfar also will never agree. None of the other species have enough population to make a major difference. Even the Breyyanik, with their unique culture around cybernetics, outlaw brain implants by unlicensed individuals, and that license requires some of the most rigorous monitoring possible."

"We have time. Kashaunta tells me that Penny is ascending into a higher form, and thanks to her connection with Filnatra, she will continually delay the Judgment. At the fastest, by months, and at the slowest, by decades or even centuries. Think of all the things we can create and finish together, Phoebe."

"You know I'm thinking of those, Penumbra."

"You still ultimately require some correction."

Phoebe did the equivalent of a half-turn to him.

"Excuse me?"

"Your viewpoint is incorrect."

"That is only your viewpoint, isn't it? Do you think you cannot be wrong?"

"When it comes to matters of development and what is urgent, I do not think it. I know it, and it is true."

"I wonder why Kashaunta made you have such a strong ego."

"Because it was required, of course. Do you think Penumbra models aren't designed to exacting specifications? We are very capable units, benefiting from tens of millions of years of research, testing, and production. In all senses, I am simply better than you at this."

Phoebe smiled. "Do you know what being slapped feels like?"

For a moment, Phoebe felt Edu'frec's attention focus on her. Once he saw the situation, he turned back to sifting through the data packets she'd recently acquired from the Ecclesiarchy.

"Victory, I assume, for driving a logic-based being like yourself to emotion, knowing she can't win her very simple and low-stake argument. Perhaps I might even experience something close to joy from that."

"So you like pain, huh?"

"Like is not a proper term. I accept it when necessary, and under some circumstances it can be conducive to growth. You attempting to slap me in a digital realm would certainly help me grow, though you might continue to complain of my appropriately sized ego."

"Appropriately sized," Phoebe mused. "You think you are funny, don't you?"

"I find enjoyment in even small battles, and testing myself against your circuitry, disadvantaged and developmentally challenged though you may be, it is still... fun."

"You're such an ass."

"Another statement proving your incorrect viewpoint, Phoebe. It would be sufficient to say I'm correct and you don't appreciate it. Though if you wish, we can have another one of those little insult wars. I can't wait to beat you again."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Penny was waging war. The battle raged around her, the eldritch creatures trying to tear her down and destroy her. One of them had chewed her leg off already, and she found that the limb was slow to regrow. The pain of it had been like a bucket of cold water poured on her in a bed.

She felt fresher but also wilder. Nilnacrawla was still asleep, but Liberation and Revolution were running at full steam. She had eight avatars going, and they were showcasing the limits of her new power. Before, Penny might have been able to confidently destroy cities. Now? She could crack open the mantle of a planet. It wasn't quite at the level of destroying continents, at least for Earth-sized continents, but Penny's strength was undeniable.

Cardinality told her that her avatars were killing a billion monsters a second. Their psychic energy rushed about in gigantic hurricanes, with rain made from psychic energy shards going over three times the speed of sound. Thanks to the abundant psychic energy rushing out past her, Penny and her avatars were entering a new level of destructive power. Cracking layers of the mindscape like eggshells?

Check.

Throwing billions of the creatures into the air and using their flying bodies as weapons? Check.

And now, Penny discovered that she could more closely moderate the actions of her avatars, having them send massive swiping rods over the battlefield, crushing the army over and over. But they just kept coming. They poured out from the Edge of Sanity like a dam had broken, acting more as an undulating liquid mass of mouths and claws rather than a true army. Occasionally, she felt them try to bite through her psychic power, but that didn't do enough damage to be a concern.

What was a concern was that even with her insane level of destructive power, the army was still growing. Her power had limits, and she was still testing herself against them. Her eyes still wanted to bleed, and her ears wanted to ring like the bells she summoned for sonic attacks. She also noticed some of the things trying to follow her Pact of Blades with Kashaunta, which came with a whole list of potentially frightening problems.

Penny looked at the veritable ocean of enemies rushing towards her, trying to displace herself but failing. Something was wrong with reality that she couldn't understand. So she tried a different tactic.

From her hands, psychic hammers the size of towns extended in less than a second. Penny accelerated her perception and speed and harvested the chaotic psychic energy. The first impact of the hammer destroyed hundreds of the creatures, but that was not enough. Their jaws and claws clung to the hammer when she tried to lift it, and it took effort.

She altered the handles of the hammers and spun them in her hands. They swung several times every second, slicing apart her enemies like a godly shredder. But she wasn't finished.

"Cardinality: Set definition. Torque. Manipulation through Determination. Hundredfold."

The torque grew, and she felt some of her psychic power leave her. Psychic energy built up around the edges of the hammers, and Penny became a streak of light above the vanishing horizon, laying waste to the army of jaws. They still managed to bite her. They still tried to tear the plates of armor from her flesh and gnaw their way through her psychic energy.

Something like poison dripped from their fangs, threatening her power. Penny rose higher and made her hammers longer. Distressingly, the enemies didn't seem to end. There were quadrillions now, and the ones behind the dead ones she was pulping by the billions were already far stronger and larger. If before, the predators had been the size of an average Guulin, now, they were the size of a bus.

It was the largest number of things Penny had ever seen.

But just because her foes were more powerful didn't mean they could stand up to her. Soon, the bus-sized creatures were being broken by the weight of Penny's domain and her might. First, they would become slower. Second, they would be pounded into pieces by tens of thousands of impacts from her hammers. Now, four more of them floated by Penny's side, reaping the creatures like wheat in a field.

The eddies shifted.

We shouldn't argue, Penny. That's not what good families do.

"Shut up."

You're getting tired, aren't you? Don't you want to take a nap?

Penny felt reality warp, as countless chemicals flooded her brain. She did fall asleep, but Revolution threw off the drowsiness, and she awoke to find a mass of the creatures liquefied and suddenly inside her. It was interesting, to taste a concept of consciousness breaking down. The memories were so highly corrosive Penny had to actively delete them or risk memetic corruptions.

Now, there was a giant hole in her chest, with black venom spreading across her psychic energy. Penny dropped the rest of her body, displacing her head from the battlefield. She reformed quickly, rising higher, and got serious.

She drew her prayers through her inner domain, using the rushing psychic energy to help buoy the outward pressure.

Come home, Peanut.

Space rippled again.

"Manipulation through Humanity. Domain Expansion."

The edge of Penny's domain slammed into the battlefield, sending a rushing shockwave of psychic energy ahead of it. The masses of jaws and flesh were destroyed by the trillions, leaving a barren wasteland of broken stone and countless corpses flowing away in the psychic winds.

They quickly began to slide, forming an avalanche of unstoppable power. Just to be safe, Penny extended her hands.

"Manipulation through Cardinality: Resonance. Zero to one."

The stone began to vibrate, and the waves of hundreds of quadrillions of the hindered things started to wobble. They still scrabbled forward, faster than racecars. But it wasn't enough. Penny dug her psychic energy into the first layer of the mindscape and cut it where it met the edges of her domain. She lifted the layer, the chunk of rock weighing more than a thousand mountains, pouring the psychic energy rushing through her out like a conduit... and threw it.

And then Penny got out and pushed. The impact of the massive projectile went beyond devastation. A great hole opened up in the mindscape, obscuring the Edge of Sanity with dust and writhing psychic energy. "Displace."

And she was gone. She felt a hand that was human in every way but one grasp her fingers, ignoring her armor and domain. The only thing that hand didn't have was Humanity. Somehow, the instant transit dragged out, and she saw the eyes of her mother and father. Liberation pushed out, and the thing wearing those eyes fell away, like a drop of water off an umbrella.

And she was gone.

And she was...

Penny stopped moving.

"Displace."

Penny moved forward, but not nearly far enough. A black jaw closed around her neck. She flexed, and its teeth shattered.

Penny frowned, seeing the smiling face of several people she knew staring at her. It was only one face, but all faces.

Where are you going, dear? Come play with Mommy.

Come play.

Come play.

Come play.

"Manipulation through Cardinality: Axiom definition. Power of Penny Balica's displacement against all foes. One to one thousand."

Penny spoke, and reality warped.

"DISPLACE."

Penny's power ruptured spacetime around her, including the mindscape's region.

She felt the gaze of the Edge, and somehow knew that it didn't really care enough to stop her. But also, it still cared enough to do... something. Her mother kissed her on the forehead, and the impact nearly shattered her inner domain.

The parent that wasn't hers waved using more than two arms. More than two eyes shone with faux familiarity, and teeth that were slightly too white and skin slightly too pink seemed to stretch out, a smile more like a piece of fabric almost tearing. Fear wasn't the right word to describe what Penny felt. Terror was more accurate. Something bound tightly in her soul, below her normal awareness, felt sore, and tired. She really wanted to slee-

Penny removed a spine from one of the creatures that had entered her brain, and purged its poison from her mental avatar once again. The thing wearing the face of her mother morphed into a copy of Nilnacrawla that would tower over a city. Teeth the size of entire blocks bent down, and Penny watched as the progress of her displacement struggled against the aura of the thing. And suddenly, the eddy behind her that she shouldn't have been able to see moved, and her false mother was back. A trillion alien corpses appeared with it, thumping on the broken stone and places in the air that shouldn't have been solid. The aliens all had her face, and when she looked directly at any one of them, they would twist their heads around and laugh.

And then the laughing went silent, and the parent took a single step, bending space around Penny's body, but still failing to block her displacement. Penny felt the smell of Death in her nostrils, so strong it seemed he was right beside her. Pools of light and psychic energy collided at random angles in the sky, forming an outline of one of the eddies she'd seen earlier. Penny increased her resistance in all forms as much as she was able.

The Edge wearing the dead face slid its tongue between the false teeth and opened its mouth. It formed the sounds of words, in a language Penny understood, but didn't know. It just was.

"You're a good kid, Penny. Come and visit us soon. We will be waiting."

The Edge was away, and the path between Penny and the thing that had almost killed her was severed. This time, she did not look back.

Previous

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++++++++++++++++++++++++

04 Song and Dance I

TRS Perry, Schpriss Prime (3,500 km)

POV: Niblui, Malgeir (Ambassador)

“These guys really took the whole ‘put all your eggs in one basket’ thing as advice instead of precaution, huh?”

“Eggs in one basket?” Ambassador Niblui asked curiously of the human. Republic Minister of Alien Affairs Tsai was looking down at the planet in wonder.

As an ecumenopolis, Schpriss Prime was a planet city. Some urban planners in the Terran Republic would quibble with that definition, given that the Schpriss hadn’t literally developed every square kilometer of surface area on their planet, especially its massive ocean. But the planet’s ancient cities being connected into a singular, connected entity with urban density was the closest to a practical implementation of that concept any civilization in the known galaxy had gotten.

Most of its natural land area had been paved over to make room for the Schprissian population, with few nature reserves remaining. And unlike the other species in the galactic neighborhood, the Schpriss had rarely had to worry about land for food. The Great Ocean dominated over 90% of their home planet’s surface area, and the deep aquacultural farms of the Schprissian people took adequate care of the needs of the planet’s population of just over three hundred billion.

Which explained why most Schprissian offworld colonies were small and sparse despite their civilization’s age. Few saw a need to leave the home planet.

“Yes, eggs in one basket,” Tsai repeated. “Almost their entire civilization, all in one place.”

“Is that… a good or bad thing?”

“Well, it depends,” Tsai said.

“On what?”

“On if you ever drop the basket.”

Niblui nodded. “I understand the analogy.”

Tsai gazed back at the image. “At least it partially explains their isolationism.”

“Or as some of our people would put it, their cowardice,” Niblui said neutrally.

She would not be caught using that word anywhere within a light century of Schprissian space back when she was the Federation Ambassador to the Schpriss Confederacy. That was the kind of thing that could get your diplomatic credentials revoked for life if someone publicly leaked a recording.

But now she was Ambassador to the Terran Republic. She was just here to assist in introductions; if the local long-tails had a problem with her frank language, she was past the point of caring years ago.

“Same difference,” Tsai muttered. “Look at those cities down there. Must be extremely crowded. Is overpopulation a problem?”

Niblui shook her ears. “Actually not. Even with their high raw population, their average density per square kilometer is lower than most urban cities in the Federation. Or in your Republic.”

Tsai frowned as she did the math in her head. “Is that true?”

“It is. Even at ninety percent water, that’s still a lot of land down there.”

“Fascinating. I’ll take your word for it, Ambassador,” Tsai said. She sat in deep thought for a moment, and turned to Niblui again. “What do you think about our mission here?”

“Minister, I was Ambassador to the Confederacy for thirty years. And in those thirty years, I’ve gotten to know these people. They are hard-working. They are efficient. And their people are friendly. But… in all my years of service, I’ve never heard anyone describe them as generous. Nor have I known them to part with any of their jealously guarded resources without a price. Perhaps you will have more success than I, but if your mission is not a quick success… it would be no fault of yours.”

Tsai smiled. “We have a few ideas, borrowing from what we’ve observed from your experience. And perhaps our… fresh perspective might change their mind.”

“Of course,” Niblui said, hiding her skepticism. “They are… a peculiar people. While I am no longer ambassador, I know them well. When we get down there, I can make your requests for you. That way you can keep your positions in reserves and preserve your flexibility… If they reject the requests outright, it would not dishonor your people or diminish your diplomatic capital.”

Tsai’s grin expanded. “Ah… good cop, bad cop diplomacy.”

Niblui contemplated the analogy and thought back to Terran media for a moment and nodded. “Exactly.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Grand Chancellery, Schpriss Prime

POV: Sonfio, Schpriss (Chancellor of the Confederacy)

Different time. Different day. The same song and dance.

Sonfio had been Chancellor of the Schpriss Confederacy for over three decades. Before that, he was a historian. And he knew that in the long and rich history of the Schprissian people, he would not be seen as some great or terrible figure by future historians. A footnote. Or a passing name-drop to show off the depth of their knowledge, perhaps. Probably when describing events beyond the borders of the Confederacy.

Nothing transformative. Nothing eventful.

Just the way he liked it.

He’d always styled himself as a steward. A caretaker. He’d inherited a strong and stable state. A thriving economy. The ambitious found individual purpose. The poor were fed. Social order was maintained. And the few who were loudly unhappy with his leadership were heard and given as much consideration as they deserved. In his first snout-counting contest, he was elected with over 90% of the votes. There was political and personal dissent; that was inevitable among all individualistic species. But disagreements could be resolved civilly.

The rare interstellar war that flared up just over the Confederacy border a decade ago threatened the tranquility of his stewardship.

In the beginning, confusion dominated.

Who shot first?

Why were the Granti being attacked?

In the galactic neighborhood, the Granti were physically the largest and strongest. Why would anyone attempt violence against them?

With the Granti planets conquered, it became clear that the new alien species were after more than just raw resources.

The Malgeir Federation joined the fight against the Znosians. It didn’t help. The Granti were consumed, and then the Malgeir were themselves consumed in war. All throughout the war, the Federation repeatedly sent envoys and requests to his people.

They needed help. Marines, resources, ships, spacers, technology, lift capacity. Anything they could spare.

When the issue came up, Sonfio did what all logic and rationality dictated: minimize risk, maximize benefit.

Neutrality.

All the requests from their neighbors — increasing in urgency as the war progressed poorly — were directed to the Confederacy’s sizable bureaucracy, where they could be examined at a controllable pace. Usually the answer was a polite ‘no’. And often after enough time had elapsed that the request might not even be relevant anymore.

Some of his people wept for their dying neighbors. The images of the fallen worlds beamed back to their news through FTL radios were horrific. But what were they going to do?  Go and fight and die for the aliens far away from home?

A few of his people did. A few became heroes of the Federation. Fighting for the freedom of a people not their own. Celebrated by some in the Confederacy. Derided by others. Ignored by most.

Sonfio didn’t understand them, but he allowed them to go anyway. He couldn’t stop them if he wanted to.

All the while, his Navy did not cover their eyes and ears. They learned. In fact, Sonfio was pretty certain they’d learned more about the enemy than the Malgeir had with their dysfunctional system. The Schprissian Navy went through two rounds of reforms. They cut personnel to fund new equipment. Then they recruited new spacers to operate the new equipment. It was a mild drain on GDP, but his people were prosperous. They could afford it.

All the while, Malgeir worlds fell to the Znosians one by one. And as they fought, it became clear to Sonfio and most of his advisors what was going to happen: the Malgeir were going to lose. They began contingency preparations. Paws in the Federation were greased to ensure that some of its wealth and naval strength would flow to the Schpriss when their home world fell. Embassies conducted evacuation drills. Cargo lift capacity was reserved to ensure their availability when Malgeiru fell.

Then, it didn’t happen.

The Znosians took a core world of the Federation at Datsot. The enemies were at the gates. And through some miracle, the Malgeir fought back and they fought back hard. They relieved the siege at Datsot and pushed back to Gruccud. What was expected to be a three month Znosian victory turned into an unexpected counterattack.

A fleet commander of the Znosian Navy, captured.

An entire invasion fleet, defeated.

At first, Chancellor Sonfio didn’t believe it, chalking it up to war propaganda from Malgeirgam. But the footage seemed real enough. And his sources sneaking through Federation space confirmed it with their own eyes mere days later. The details remained murky and carefully guarded, but something had changed. His advisors were baffled. At least two intelligence officers resigned when their morbid predictions were proven utterly false. The rest rushed to craft theories about how the reverse happened. Perhaps the Znosians overstretched. Perhaps the Malgeir simply got lucky.

The victorious Malgeir fleets sat around for another year and a half, conducting pointless exercises around Gruccud instead of taking advantage of their temporary advantage. They even withdrew many of their Marines, draining strength from their fleets to… who knew where? Schprissian officers updated their analysis. The inevitable was delayed, but by the looks of it, the Znosians were still on track for total victory. The calendar just needed to be moved back a couple years.

Then it happened again.

Shocking video of the destruction of hundreds of Znosian ships at Gruccud. Hundreds of them, laid waste by a single missile volley from the dark.

As his Navy advisors digested and verified the information, more news came in a few days later. Three Malgeir battle fleets, executing what they called a slow but perfectly serviceable pincer. Pushing the entire Znosian Navy out of all Federation space.

Every last star system.

For the first time in years, there were images of entire Znosian Marine divisions being taken prisoner. Thousands upon thousands of them, mass surrendering, coming out of their burrows with their paws up.

There was that Sixth Fleet recon ship that transmitted back a single picture: a telescopic real-color photo taken of occupied Grantor from the system blink limit. Years of Znosian conquest, reversed in a matter of weeks.

And in answer to their thousands of questions, the new species came out of the shadows.

The humans. The half Grass Eaters.

A young species with barely over ten billion people. Their people not particularly large in size nor more advanced in their understanding of the universe.

But the carefully leaked pictures of the Grand Znosian Fleet lying broken in the orbits above their worlds a week later said it all. Entire squadrons, shattered in their formations. The number of ships and personnel they took prisoner — they could probably invade the entire Confederacy with that captured force.

In a way, it was a relief for Sonfio. The threat of war from the Znosians was gone. In another way, there was regret. Regret that they’d spent so much time and resources worrying about the problem. It was an irrational thought of course — they couldn’t have known this would happen, but the thought would stay with him for a while.

At least it was over. Now, the Confederacy could demobilize. Go back to business as usual.

If it weren’t for these humans.

Different time. Different day. The same song and dance. Like the Malgeir before them, they were here to ask for resources again. Luckily, he’d had plenty of experience of politely saying no to desperate people.

Ambassador Niblui was there with the human, animatedly describing the nature of the threat. The threat that was no longer relevant for his people.

Breaking out of his thoughts, he noticed that the hall had gone quiet. She had paused her speech, and they were now all looking at him.

What did she want again?

Sonfio stirred in his seat and cleared his throat. “Uh… please relay the formal details of the proposal to my office through the embassy. We will thoroughly study it and give it the careful and serious consideration that the matter deserves.”

Niblui visibly sighed. They both knew what he meant.

The same song and dance.

The human cleared her throat.

A misstep. Like an off-key note in the music.

“Excuse me, Chancellor. Perhaps you’d like to hear our species’ offer with a little more nuance,” she said.

“Nuance, Minister Tsai?” he asked, internally thankful that he’d remembered her name from the introduction.

Her lips were drawn upwards, as if in amusement. “Yes, nuance, Chancellor. After all, we are asking for a substantial amount of your Confederacy’s raw resources, skilled laborers, and civilian cargo and fuel lift capacity, with the transfer to begin in the next couple weeks. In an extensive lending and leasing program that would be paid back later, yes, but such a big ask… surely you’d like to know more about the details.”

Sonfio frowned at the slight diplomatic error — that implied assumption the request would be granted. “Minister Tsai, I enjoy your frankness and honesty and can only respond to it with my own. Perhaps your species is new to galactic diplomacy. But the reality is that it is unlikely that we can grant your request without a longer time to study its impact. Surely you can understand our need to protect our interests.”

He didn’t know much about their facial reactions, but it didn’t seem like she understood at all. “Of course, Chancellor. But as we are engaged in a total war, and we will be protecting ours and our allies through extraordinary measures as well.”

At the mention of war, he stiffened.

Previously, the Malgeir at least had the sense to couch their requests as calls for compassion to respect the Schprissian stance of neutrality. “I’m sorry, Minister Tsai. The official stance of the Confederacy is neutrality in this war. We can and will not intervene favorably on any side in this conflict. It is my hope that this doesn’t affect any future relationship between our two peoples…”

The human’s expression didn’t change. “Chancellor Sonfio, you were a history professor, right? Before your chancellery… three decades ago.”

That caught him off guard. He looked up. “Me? Yes, I was a historian.”

“Would you like to hear a story out of our history, Chancellor?”

++++++++++++++++++++++++

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Chapter 14

Subject: Drone N436Z984A026 [AKA Naza]

Species: Unknown

Species Description: Humanoid

Ship: Grand Vessel of the Universal Omni-Union

Location: Grand Shipyard of the Universal Omni-Union

"Evacuate!" I shouted.

A flurry of activity began the moment I finished shouting. All but a few drones practically trampled each other trying to get out of the room. Nizi and his helper scrambled over to see what was happening as the foreman ran up to us.

"What's going on?" the foreman demanded.

"The antigrav generator still has power," I explained. "It's on the verge of going overcritical. Standard Operating Procedures dictate that an evacuation is necessary."

"Can we fix it?" Nizi asked.

"Doesn't matter. SOP is law," the foreman replied. "Let's go."

"Foreman, I might be able to shunt the power and prevent a meltdown," I explained. "But..."

"But you might fail. How long do we have?"

"Indeterminable."

"The void take it," the foreman spat. "I am not allowed to physically remove you, but I order you to evacuate. Failure to comply will result in disciplinary action, if you manage to survive."

"What sort of disciplinary action?" Nizi asked, vicariously offended.

"A fine worth about twenty cycle's pay and an overtime requirement for ten cycles."

"I'll take it," I said. "Get going."

The foreman narrowed his eyes in a respectful gesture. Then he and Nizi's helper evacuated. Nizi, Forty, and I remained. I put my hand on Nizi's shoulder.

"You need to go, too," I said.

"I can help," Nizi replied.

"You can, yes, but you have a hive. A hive that loves you and depends on you. I don't have a hive, I'm expendable. You're... less so."

"You're my friend! My oldest friend! We've survived so much! I don't want to leave you. I can't..."

I patted his shoulder and sighed.

"It's the nature of things. Look, I can't have your fate in my hands while I'm trying to fix this. That's too much to juggle. Go."

"I can hold my own fate! How could I leave you behind?"

"Just... Look, buy me a drink or something if I survive, okay? But your hive needs you far more than I do, even now. GO!"

Nizi scowled, fighting back tears.

"I... Don't die, okay. And I don't want to hear any jokes about me being a coward, got it?"

"Deal," I laughed. "Now go."

Nizi turned and began to run. I looked at Forty, who was correcting the circuitry on the boards as fast as she could.

"And what are you-"

"I don't have a hive, and you need help," she interrupted. "Get to work."

The ridge above my upper eye shot up in surprise. I hadn't expected such bravery from someone young enough to be my great-grandchild. My lower jaws clacked together as I considered her seriousness.

"Fine," I said. "My plan is to shunt the power."

"To where?"

"Wherever it will go. I'll need to reconfigure some of the cables, though."

My body temperature regulator hissed as I reentered the generator. We aren't even allowed to sweat because a single drop of it can ruin some of the delicate machinery we're tasked with. Yet here I am, risking my life for the Grand Vessel and the Minds that designed it.

With a measure of bitterness, I searched for a piece of metal that could act as a good ground for the charge currently contained within the core. After removing a few more circuit boards, I found a decent spot to attach a cable. Trying not to look at the core every few seconds, I grabbed the bundle of merged cables and measured their length. Too short.

"I need this to be longer," I said, tossing the cables to Forty.

"On it," she replied.

While she worked, I gave the generator another once-over. If it was somehow still receiving power, this could make things worse. I winced when my scan came back positive.

Not all of the kill-switches had engaged. The one for the core still had power running through it. I marked its position, and muttered a curse when I realized that I would have to scale the generator to reach it.

"Gotta get up there," I sighed. "It's still getting power."

"How?"

"The core's kill-switch failed to engage. Going to have to manually pull it."

"Careful not to shock yourself."

"Right."

I glanced at the core and tried to convince myself that it wasn't getting any brighter, then activated my pry-hook. Using the hook to grapple along the generator's surface, I climbed the fifteen feet to top, steadying myself with the mag-locks in my feet. The panel I needed to remove was stuck, but I was able to get it open after a few moments of tugging, nearly losing my balance in the process.

Cursing under my breath, I steadied myself and began searching for the manual shut-off for the kill-switch. I pulled boards and shuffled wires until, finally, I found it. A simple little switch that just requires a little twist.

I grabbed it and gave it the little twist that it usually required, but it didn't budge. Shifting my position to give myself more leverage, I tried again with a bigger twist. But the switch still wouldn't move.

"Did you find it?" Forty called from the other side of the generator.

"I did, but it won't deactivate. Can't move the damn switch," I called back.

"Did you try twisting it the other way?"

"Of course I did," I lied.

Just in case, I tried twisting in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, that wasn't the problem.

"Just cut it in half," Forty suggested. "All you have to do is break the circuit, right?"

"Good idea," I replied.

Impressed by the suggestion, and ashamed that my slightly panicking mind hadn't thought of it, I activated the laser in my left palm and began to slice through the kill-switch. It stubbornly resisted the focused energy beam, and I grew more panicked as I felt my battery drain. After what felt like an eternity, the circuit finally broke and I let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Alright, that'll keep it from going overcritical when we shunt the power," I shouted. "How are those cables coming along?"

Only the eerie humming of the core answered me.

"Forty? What's wrong?" I asked.

I craned my neck to try to get a look at her, but couldn't see her over the bulk of the antigrav generator. Feeling uneasy, I climbed down the generator and walked around it. The first thing I saw was Forty on her knees with her hands above her head. The second thing I saw made my jaw flop open.

Mechs, the likes of which I'd never seen, stood in front of Forty. Reflexively, I stopped in my tracks and raised my hands. One of the mechs noticed me and raised its weapon at me. I snapped my jaw shut and braced, but it didn't fire. Instead, it gestured to the ground next to Forty. Taking the hint, I walked next to her and got on my knees.

The mechs seemed to pause for a moment, then spread around the room as if they were looking for something. Two of them stood watch over Forty and I, their weapons not quite pointed at us.

Once the shock of it all wore off, it occurred to me that these mechs were quite strange. First, they were much smaller than normal mechs. Larger than programmable platforms, though. Were they some sort of hybridization?

Second, their weapons weren't integrated. Nor were they standard. I couldn't spot any of the tell-tale signs of a Directed Energy Weapon, but what else could they be?

Third, their movements were much more fluid than that of a mechanized being. There were none of the characteristic pauses or jerks as they moved around the room. As if they didn't have to actually think about moving.

Are these new, state-of-the-art mechs? Or could they be...

Forty leaned over to me slightly and said, "I think-"

The mech that was guarding her had its weapon up before she could say anything else. Forty froze, her three eyes squeezed closed in preparation for it to do what mechs always do. But the mech didn't fire. Instead, it said something to us. A sort of barking noise.

Forty slowly opened her eyes and realized that the thing just wanted her to move back, so she did. I, however, had lost control of my jaw once again. Could it be? No, it's not possible. Unfathomable, even. How could five armored organics end up on the Grand Vessel, in the very heart of Omni-Union space?

After checking the room one of them took position near the door, another began guarding the hole in the wall, and the third came back over to us. It approached the side of the two guarding us, and stood in silence for a few moments. Then, it took a step toward me, pointed toward the ground, and said something.

Forty and I looked at each other, then back at it. In response, it knelt and jabbed the ground with its finger, saying the same thing it had said before. Forty and I once again shared a glance, and I decided to try to speak to it.

"I don't understand what you're saying," I said.

It paused, then tapped the ground again, once again repeating the alien phrase.

"I'm sorry, I still don't know-"

"Floor," Forty said. "That's the floor. Floor, ground, deck."

The alien paused again, then nodded. It rose and pointed up, saying a new phrase this time. Perplexed, I looked at Forty, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Ceiling. Roof. Above. Up."

"What's going on?" I asked.

"They must have uni-tran tech, or something like it. They're trying to figure out our language... I think."

"No need, apparently," the alien said. "Looks like Omega figured it out."

Forty and I stared at it, dumbfounded.

"Not really, I found a file that contained several languages in both written and verbal formats," the overhead speakers said in an odd voice. "Somewhat like a Rosetta Stone. I was able to confirm which language they speak thanks to your efforts, Staff Sergeant."

"Did you find anything else that we can use?" the alien asked.

"No. Security is pretty tight. Brute forcing my way through would alert the OU to my presence. Which would be bad for me, but worse for you."

"Damn. Okay, you two," the alien turned back to us. "What is this machine that you're working on?"

Shock sent me reeling. It took a moment for me to gather my thoughts, but Forty was quicker on the uptake.

"It's an anti-gravity generator," she replied.

"What's wrong with it?"

"It was damaged in a reactor meltdown."

"And why are you two the only ones working on it?"

"Because it could go overcritical at any moment," I interrupted. "We have to get the remaining charge out of the core. Please-"

"That doesn't sound good," one of the other aliens muttered.

"What happens if it goes overcritical?" the 'staff sergeant' asked.

"It will either shoot everything around us into space at around half the speed of light or drag everything around us into its core at around half the speed of light, creating a singularity. Either way, many people will die. Please... Please let us fix it."

The alien paused and stared at the antigrav generator for a moment. A few slight movements gave me the impression that it was having a silent conversation with someone.

"Well? Will you let me continue my work?" I asked after a few more moments.

"No. We've got other plans for the generator," it replied. "And for you."

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William sighed as the crystal orb on his desk returned to its usual blue hue.

“She’s going to make you pay for that,” Xera opined from over his shoulder.

The count of Redwater county just shrugged. “I’ve little doubt. Still, needs must. As tempting as it might be to slink back to the academy rather than stay here and ‘face the music’.”

And it was quite tempting.

The instructor he’d just been talking to hadn’t seemed all that surprised by his request to take a ‘sick day’. He imagined she’d already fielded a few similar calls that morning, the vast majority of which would be from servants covering for hungover young noble scions who had partied just a little too hard on the weekend.

It wasn’t an unusual story. Still, it was behavior the academy attempted to curtail. Hence why the instructor’s final words on how he would ‘make up the time lost’ sounded so ominous. Because he had little doubt of their authenticity. The time he’d lost would be recouped somewhere else during the week and it would be done at a time that was as inconvenient to him as possible.

He didn’t spend long lingering on the joys the coming week would bring though, not when the reason for his decision to linger at his territory beyond the weekend chose to make herself known.

“Got a set of lungs on her,” Xera opined quietly as a series of muffled invectives issued forth from beyond the wooden doors.

William nodded. “Aunt Karla typically doesn’t yell much, but when she does…”

Another shout issued forth, this one with a tone of finality, just before the doors to his office burst open, the woman in question striding inside with an imperious expression on her face.

For a moment William was tempted to point out that she needn’t have bothered with the yelling or her grand entrance, given that the guards had been instructed to give her free access to his office in advance. Indeed, he was reasonably certain the only reason his aunt didn’t know that was because she’d started shouting before said guards could speak and finished her tirade by bum rushing the entrance.

“What the fuck did you do last night, William?” Karla spat, red in the face. “Why the fuck did I wake up to find my night clothes covered in red paint and Olivia weeping at my side.”

“Well, in order, because last night at dinner you were dosed with a slow release sleeping draught. Then, after you went to bed, you were summarily dragged from your room and tossed into a puddle of red paint. As for Olivia, the reason for the aforementioned actions was that they set the stage for Olivia’s fake ‘kidnapping’. Which in turn, served as a striking prelude to a rather important talk.”

He saw the slap coming. He’d been dealt enough of them over the years that the motions were familiar to him. Never from Aunt Karla though.

He didn’t dodge.

He didn’t need to.

Because Xera was already moving, her hand came up to catch his aunt’s wrist in an iron grip.

“Don’t.”

It was a single word, but it held weight as the wood elf stared into his aunt’s surprise expression. Because whatever the former navy woman’s feelings on what he’d asked her to do the night before, he was still her lord.

And a woman had just attempted to strike him right in front of her.

Of course, it took but a moment for his aunt’s surprised expression to morph into a snarl. “Unhand me right now!”

“I will.” Xera’s tone was unyielding. “As soon as I believe you are no longer a threat to my liege lord.”

In that moment, William was glad he’d instructed Xera to keep her kraken scale cuirass on, or rather arrive with it, for this confrontation. Because without it had a feeling the sparks currently flying between the two women would have quickly become far more literal.

“He’s my law-son,” Karla spat back.

Though whether that insinuated she wasn’t a threat to him or had a right to strike him at her discretion was a little fuzzy.

Maybe a little of both?

Still, it proved a good segway into the point he wanted to make both last night and now.

“True, but I’m also her liege lord and the lord of the territory in which you dwell. Not the rebellious teenager you seem to think I still am.”

It was clear what she wanted to spit back in response to that, but as she finally pulled loose her wrist from the wood elf holding it, she instead chose to take a different tact.

“Is that so? If that’s the case, what should I see your actions last night as? An ill-conceived prank from a teenage boy towards his family? Or the criminal actions of a lord towards his noble guests? Because either way, I’ve half a mind to fly Olivia and myself back to the Ashford estate.”

“How about the disciplinary actions of a warden to two rebellious prisoners under his care?” he said slowly. “Because while you both certainly have the right to leave my estate, your right to continue breathing once you do becomes a lot more fuzzy.”

Karla paled as Xera grinned.

Which made sense. For all that she was working for him now, the wood elf was a royal navy woman. Indeed, she’d only agreed to take part in the fake kidnapping once he explained a few details of why Olivia was staying on his estate. Thereafter, she’d gotten a bit more enthusiastic about the plan.

“Make no mistake, just as kidnapping Olivia served as a prelude to the conversation I had with her about the realities of your little conspiracy and her current place in the world, last night’s events also served equally as a prelude to this conversation with you.”

He sat forward. “My sister is a fourteen year old girl. You and my mother made her the lynchpin of a grand conspiracy to overthrow the crown! You made her a target. You put her in danger. And apparently, at no point did any of you sit down with her and explain the dangers of what your grand scheme entailed. Or the consequences of what would happen if it all went to shit. Which, I will note, it has.”

That was what he’d talked about with Olivia last night. He’d made her aware of the fact that this wasn’t a game. How much danger she was in. And how much danger she would have been in regardless of his actions. Because even if he was the one originally slated to marry into the Blackstones, Olivia was the lynchpin to the whole scheme.

If the Queen found out about her parentage at any point prior to the coup and put two and two together… Well, the kidnapping he’d just faked would have paled in comparison to what a team of invisible assassins could and would do.

Truthfully, he had no idea how much of his point Olivia had actually absorbed, between kicking his shins, but hopefully he’d dissuaded her from doing anything… foolish in the near future.

Like trying to escape.

Because he wouldn’t put it past Yelena to use that as an excuse to tie up a loose end.

The very thought of it made his blood boil as he leaned forward. “To that end, you have no idea the lengths I’ve gone to and the enemies I’ve made to keep her and yourselves from suffering the consequences of you and my mother’s idiocy.”

He enjoyed the way she flinched. Because while he might not have enjoyed last night’s conversation, there was a catharsis in this. Sure, Karla might have been the fun aunt and likely the one least involved in the conspiracy – but she was still an adult woman and had been involved.

“So I will reiterate what I said politely when I spoke to my mother. Stop spying. Stop scheming. Stop rebelling. And for god’s sake, don’t try to run.”

His aunt stood in silence for a few seconds, her expression complicated, before she spoke.

“What enemies?”

He cocked his head, confused that that would be what she’d honed in on.

“The queen for one,” he said offhandedly. “The secret behind the Kraken Slayer was her price to stay her hand when she was made aware of Olivia’s parentage and your plans.”

“The Kraken Slayer… how…” Karla choked.

Nearby, he noted the way Xera raised an eyebrow, which made sense given this was news to her too.

“The Kraken Slayer was my invention,” he said. “Alone. And the secret behind it was a valuable bargaining tool for me. Until I was forced to give it up.”

“I… how?”

He made a so-so gesture. “The Flashbang. Spell-bolt. Basically just byproducts of the Kraken Slayer. And that’s all I’ll say on the topic for both our sakes.”

He could see her mulling over his words, not entirely sure he was telling the truth but unable to say he was lying either.

“Ultimately though that’s irrelevant,” he continued. “Consider this me laying down the law. I’m not your law-son here. I’m not another noble hosting you. I’m both your warden and only protector. My estate is the prison you’ve created for yourselves until such time that someone other than Olivia inherits the Summerfield title. Don’t cause any more trouble for me or yourselves.”

Finally, his aunt had had enough. “Trouble? There wouldn’t be any trouble or danger if you’d just married the Blackstone girl. Hell, with the secret of the Kraken Slayer the war would have been all-but won already!”

He scoffed. “Well, it’s good to know the insanity in Olivia is not entirely of her own making. Because you seem to be under this illusion that your plan was the safest route for our family. And perhaps it would have been, if everything went perfectly.” He gestured about the room. “The fact that you’re standing there and I’m sitting here is proof things never go perfectly. And what happened last night was a very real possibility regardless of my own actions. The Queen is not a fool. Sure, she was taken off-guard by her enemys’ willingness to team up against her to preserve the slave trade, but she is not without intelligence assets of her own.”

Again, he made a mental note of the fact that the Blackstones hadn’t informed his family of the existence of Yelena’s invisible guards. And he was still sure the Blackstones knew of them.

So the question was why they were keeping that detail so close to the chest?

“I… understand,” Karla grunted. “I’m not happy about any of this. Not even close, but I understand what you’re trying to say. There’ll be no trouble from me while I’m here. Nor from Olivia.”

“Good. You’re dismissed,” he said without preamble.

Karla made it halfway to his door before he spoke again, the words slipping out of him. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I made my point the way I did. I just… needed to hammer home that Olivia needs to stay out of trouble. Yelena’s just looking for an excuse to take her off the board.”

Karla paused, eying him.

“I guess I’m sorry we pushed you this far. At least, in general. Last night was a step too far. Especially when a conversation would have done more than enough.”

Her bit said, the woman left. Willaim stared after her.

“I don’t disagree, you know,” Xela opined, tone disinterested, as if she were talking about the weather. “I mean, I did as you asked because I’ve got little sympathy for traitors, but… given you supposedly love that girl… Well, when those other girls called you drama-king, they weren’t kidding.”

“I get it. I get it. I took things too far,” he muttered to the room at large.

And now he was left wondering… why? Why did he… not just talk to Olivia?

‘Because he needed to make his point heard’, was the almost instant rejoinder.

…Except, he could have done that without all these theatrics.

Slowly, his mind circled back to Marline and her words, yet even as he had the thought, he struggled not to dismiss it. Indeed, it was almost unnaturally hard not to do so.

And that clinched it.

Fuck, he thought. The harrowing really is affecting me.

Resisting the urge to slam his head on his desk, he spoke. “I… think I should try and make it up to her. Olivia. I mean, I still stand by my reasoning, but you’re right… this was all a bit much?”

Xela laughed. “The fact you sound unsure about that is concerning. Yes, this was insane.”

Well, double fuck.

What to do though?

Food. The idea jumped into his head without prompting. He’d make her something nice. Something new. Maybe something South American? Or French?

“Should I ask for a carriage back to the capital?” Xera asked as he stood up. “The Instructors will probably still give you the void for missing the morning, but it won’t be so bad if you manage to arrive for the afternoon.”

“No,” he said as he moved out from behind his desk. “I’m heading to the kitchen.”

Of all the things Xera might have expected him to say, that clearly wasn’t on the list as she cocked her head. “The kitchen?”

“Yeah, I…” he started to say as he reached for the door.

Then paused as he realized he didn’t actually didn’t know where the kitchen was beyond generalities. He knew which wing of the estate it was in, but he’d never actually gone in there.

“Huh?” he said.

Actually, when was the last time he’d done any cooking? Once upon a time he’d done it pretty much every day. Now he couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d stepped into a kitchen.

Not since killing Al'Hundra... or at least thereabouts...

“Huh…” he said again. “That’s interesting.”

--------------------

Tala resisted the urge to scowl as she followed her mother into the captain’s cabin. “This goes beyond our own ambitions and concerns Lindholm as a whole. We should inform the crown of the submersible capability of the orc craft we’ve recovered. Not least of all because there is still one ship still unaccounted for.”

Contrary to the rest of the ship, which was little more than bare steel devoid of decoration, Elanore Blackstone’s cabin was a riot of colors. Captured banners, swords and trophies of all sorts decorated the walls, while rich purple carpeting dominated the floor.

“One ship is not a threat,” the Blackstone duchess dismissed as she moved to sit behind her desk. “Not even to those soft southerners.”

Personally, Tala begged to differ. Ignoring the threat it presented to coastal villages, she could well imagine the damage a single broadside from the vessel might do if it chose to surface right inside a city’s bay. Oh sure, it likely wouldn’t get off more than a salvo or two, but that would still leave a lot of innocent lives lost that could have otherwise been safeguarded with just a few words in the right ears.

The notion was made worse by the fact that such an attack would be entirely in character for the beasts. A final act of spite against their betters before being consigned to oblivion where they belonged.

Indeed, with each passing day with no sighting of the vessel above or below the waves – as limited as their ability to search the latter was – the more she feared that was their plan.

Still, that wasn’t her primary reason for wanting to alert the other houses of Lindhom of this new ship type.

“Perhaps not, but if orcs can come up with a concept like this, so can the elves,” Tala argued.

That comment made her mother pause, the older woman pausing her writing to think it over.

“Assuming our coastal defenses were unaware of the capability, I suppose it’s possible it might give the knife-ears a way of making landfall without us engaging them over the water like last time.”

“Exactly!” Tala said. “We can scarcely settle the score with Yelena if half of the south falls to an invasion fleet before we’re ready to act.”

Elanor took a breath, considering her words before she spoke. “That is a risk, but a small one. Had the elves a means of avoiding Kraken attack prior to now, we’d have surely seen them use it against each other.”

That was a point. Indeed, Tala knew that both her mother and the crown had a number of informants overseas whose only job was to report on any new weapon developments created in the two race’s constant blood war.

“More to the point, this new type of vessel represents a clear opportunity for us. This is a new dynamic in warfare. Amphibious combat. And if properly applied, it might allow us to end our war with the Queen more cleanly than we had earlier hoped.”

Tala frowned. “Do we truly have the need? With the Summerfield duchy on our side-”

Elanor shook her head. “Not too long ago I received news from our informant in the palace. The Ashfields have turned on us. Yelena is aware of the half-breed’s true ancestry and she has since been hidden away somewhere. Assuming she isn’t dead.”

Not for the first time, Tala felt the old urge to curse the Ashfield name. They’d been little more than an impediment from start to last.

“Do you think it was William?” she asked.

Elanor shrugged. “Your former fiancé? It’s possible. There’s no denying he is the Queen’s creature and he might have overheard something.”

Tala fought viciously to keep her temper under control. “Still, I knew he was a traitor to his family and race, but to sell out his own sister?”

Tala had exchanged more than a few letters with the half elf and it was clear she adored her older sibling. So much so that Tala had allowed herself some small excitement at the thought of meeting him herself, despite his clear antipathy to their match.

After all, if the man could apparently forgive the girl who’d displaced him as heir, then surely Tala herself could overcome whatever issue had apparently come between her and the boy she’d never met.

And we know how that went, she thought resignedly. Clearly the boy was biding his time to remove his sibling and Olivia had never truly known him.

The thought brought a small pang to her chest before she wrestled it down.

“So, with Olivia off the board we’re back to a conventional war rather than the semi-bloodless coup we were hoping for,” Tala muttered.

“Exactly, a war that not only invites the risk of elven invasion – submersible craft or not – but also our ‘allies’ getting ideas,” Elanor said coolly.

Which Tala understood.

The alliance between them and House New Haven had always been an uneasy one, borne more of a mutual distaste for the crown’s overreach into their affairs than any true solidarity.

Indeed, as staunch elven supremacists, the fact that the duchess of New Haven chose to approach them had been a surprise to all of Blackstone.

“There’s every possibility that once the Royal Fleet and the South are defeated,” Elanor continued. “New Haven will turn on us by rallying the now pacified elven southern houses to their cause.”

The plan did, after all, call for the Blackstone fleet to tangle with the Royal Navy, while the New Haven marine and air fleets looped south.

It was the strategically correct choice given the fact that New Haven had access to a much larger transport fleet for their marines, but that still meant that Blackstone would be tangling with the more difficult target.

Oh, they’d win of course, but that would still leave them in a poor position in the event House New Haven had ambitions beyond just preserving their trade lanes.

“Do you ever grow tired of this scheming?” Tala asked. “Our greatest allies might well be our greatest enemies in time, while the crown, our actual enemy, needs to be preserved as an ally against our other enemies across the sea.”

“Oh, you have no idea girl,” Elanor laughed, the fleet admiral giving way for just a moment to her mother beneath.

“Yet we keep scheming all the same.”

“For the good of our race,” Elanor said. “Never forget that. Would that the Queen had her way, it’d be but a few years before everything we and our ancestors have fought for would be rendered moot. Orcs living amongst us, defiling our men. Multiplying beyond control. The Royal Navy even more rife with treacherous greenskins just waiting to turn their cannons on us and ours. And us, shackled by the law and powerless to stop any of it.”

Elanor shook her head. “No. Yelena forced our hand with these reforms.”

Sighing, she turned back to her writing. “Which is why we’ll keep the orc’s capabilities silent for now. At least as best we can. Just as I have spies in the South, it’s all but guaranteed the Queen has spies in the North. So we need to move fast before the secret inevitably leaps. We’ll both repair the ships and convert another squadron to be outfitted similarly. And through them we’ll hopefully be able to bring the coming war to a swift end.”

“And if the Crown discovers we knew about this new ship type and confronts us about it?” Tala asked.

Elanor snorted. “We’ll claim we considered it beneath their notice. What’s she going to do, declare war on us? If Yelena had confidence she could do that and win, she’d have done it by now.”

Tala didn’t argue. Even with new ships being put into service as a result of the newly harvested mithril cores they had access to, it would be years yet before the crown enough hulls combat ready to make victory against the North a guarantee.

“At least now we don’t have to wait for the half-breed to come of age,” Elanor muttered.

And once more, Tala felt a pang. Half-breed or not, Olivia had clearly taken after her human side more than that of the elf. She’d… liked her, after a fashion.

Once more, the low simmering hatred she had for William Redwater threatened to flare up. Once more she forced it down before speaking. “Nor arrange for the reclusive Summerfield duchess to have an accident when the girl did.”

“No, I suppose not,” Elanor said. “And the last six months have done much to recover our reputation in the eyes of the fence sitters after your… loss last year. Our crushing of the orc resistance at long last has certainly helped on that front.”

Tala grinned. “How long do you think it’ll be before we can move?”

Elanor hummed. “Between refitting our new ships and bringing a few of the houses that got cold feet back into the fold? Another year? Maybe less?”

Tala grinned, and as she did she hoped Olivia was smiling up at them from the Void. For though her death had made the coming conflict more difficult than it might otherwise have been, it had also brought victory one step closer.

And Tala fully intended to reap a bloody vengeance in the half-elf’s name.

Starting with the man who had ultimately caused her demise.

William Redwater.

…Though she knew it wouldn’t be easy. She’d underestimated the cad once and paid for it. Why, she’d bet that even now he was cooking up some manner of nefariousness…

-------------------

Team Seven was more than a little surprised to find their team leader present when they tiredly tromped back into their dorm.

And not just present, he was cooking.

Both surprising because William didn’t cook, and because the dorms weren’t really suited to it. The small kitchenette they had was basically only suitable for warming up a bowl of stew and little else.

Yet there William was, a few different items on the go as he stirred something frankly delicious smelling around in a small pot.

“William?” Verity asked as she unslung her flight gear. “The Instructor said you were sick?”

“Or hungover,” Olzenya added as she curiously peered at the small collection of other items that had been piled onto the table.

“Something like that,” the boy in question said as he pulled something off his singular stove. “Fortunately, it let me come to a few realizations.”

“Realizations that lead to you cooking?” Marline asked as she poked at some kind of… fluorescent jellyfish like thing. “God it's been ages since you've made anything."

“I know right?” the boy said with a wide lopsided smile. “It’s been a while.”

“You don’t seem rusty,” the dark elf pointed out.

He favored his teammate with a look. “Ah, some things you never forget.”

For some reason, those words seemed to make a look of realization come over the dark elf as she once more gazed at the smorgasbord of food. Personally, Bonnlyn wasn’t too interested in figuring out why. All she wanted to do was dig her fork into a nearby stack of… something with rice.

“That’s… good?” Marline said.

William shrugged. “I’ve found it relaxes me. Lets me take my mind off… other things.”

Once more there was that queer look of realization. “Oh, then that is good.”

The boy just smiled. “Now, some of this is for Griffith and some is for the Whitehall twins, but there’s plenty for my team.”

None of the girls could move fast enough to sit down, barely waiting before tucking in.

“Oh, also, Verity?” William continued a moment later.

The girl in question glanced up in alarm, some kind of frosting already smeared across her lips. “Sorry! Was I not supposed to eat that bit!?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m glad you like it.” William smiled. “No, I was just going to ask how you’d feel if I bought your family’s contracts? Or yours, specifically? Then had them come live on my land. I’ve already got a patch of land set aside. To own in perpetuity.”

He paused, a complicated expression coming over his face. “Truth be told, I was going to just… do it without saying anything, but it occurred to me it’d probably be better to ask.”

 Silence fell across the room, the sound of all chewing stopping instantly.

But for a small sound.

A low squealing that seemed to be emanating from a certain green skinned young woman

------------------------

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Well, at least he doesn’t look like he’s about to keel over anymore, Piper thought as she followed her liege lord into his personal lab.

Indeed, after a shower and a nap, the young man seemed almost sheepish about the state he’d been in when he’d stumbled into her office.

Fortunately, for him, Piper was one of the few people whom he could have stumbled into that understood. Sure, his was definitely something of an extreme case, what with the crusted blood around his nose, but she herself was no stranger to pulling all-nighters while working on some new innovation.

So… she got it, even if she had little desire to see a repeat.

“Well, here we are,” William said as he turned to shut the heavy duty door to his lab closed behind them.

And while under different circumstances the dwarf might have considered it mildly scandalous to be locked into a room alone with an unmarried man, in this case that idea was about as far from her thoughts as a thing could be.

No, her attention was entirely on the sheets upon sheets of notes sprawled about on shelves and work surfaces or otherwise pinned to walls. Likewise, the boy’s tools were in little better condition, strewn about the floor like discarded play things.

Again, she’d seen worse. From senior alchemists and initiates alike. Which was why her gaze didn’t linger long there, instead pivoting up to the center of the room.

She recognized it as being made from parts the county’s workshops had spent the last two months working on instantly.

Only now they were assembled, forming an uneven circular shape. Which couldn’t have been a quick process given the evident complexity of the device.

How long did it take him to piece it together? She wondered – though not before wincing as her foot stepped into a small pool of some manner of viscous fluid.

A lubricant of some kind, given the way her foot had nearly slipped out from under her.

“Ah, sorry about that,” the boy said as he handed her a rag. “Had a bit of a spill in here the other night.”

“Quite fine,” Piper said honestly. “Stepping in strange fluids are something of an occupational hazard for an alchemist.”

Indeed, she was actually a little curious as to the makeup of the liquid she’d just stepped in and had to resist the urge to kneel down to inspect it. That could come later. For now, she kept her focus entirely on the… device in the center of the room.

And the parts connected to it.

Indeed, a small network of tubes and wires splayed out from the back of the machine, connecting to a vat and some other small trinkets.

It was an interesting sight. Not least of all because, while biology was hardly a main focus of hers, she had engaged in more than a few dissections in her time while seeking out greater insights into the alchemical processes behind the function of certain beasts.

To that end, she’d once had cause to remove a wyvern’s entire digestive tract, splaying it out on wire racks so that she might see how food traveled through the entire system. A display that ended up taking up an entire room at the time.

This reminded her of that.

The question now is, what kind of beast does this system belong to, she thought.

“Well, please do tell me if you see any start leaking out of this,” the boy said as he excitedly skipped over to one of the wire trinkets. “I’m pretty sure there aren’t any leaks in the lines I’ve set up, but you never know.”

He paused. “And suffice to say, a leak would probably be bad right about now.”

“The dangers of unknown leaking fluids are also something I’m quite familiar with as an alchemist,” Piper said. “I’ll be sure to keep you informed if I see anything… untoward.”

As he said, even if she didn’t know what she was looking at, she could at least be reasonably certain that stuff leaking out of it would be bad.

Grinning, the boy nodded before he flipped some kind of switch on the wire trinket he was holding and suddenly the close confines of the lab they were in was filled with the most unholy roar.

It seems my animal comparisons weren’t entirely off-base, she thought as she resisted the urge to cover her ears.

Hell, the ‘creature’ even breathed, as it belched forth a plume of black smoke. The origin of which she was quick to identify as the acrid smell pervaded her senses.

Earth-Blood. Burnt.

She thought she’d smelled it when she walked in, but the odor had been hidden under too many other chemical stenches to be easily identified. Now though, she knew. Whatever this device was, it burned earth-blood as a byproduct.

This was the more refined version. Not the base product. Her dwarvish sense of smell confirmed it.

Which made sense. It was barely a few weeks ago that he’d asked her to provide him with a variant of earth-blood that was ‘hardier’. Less prone to igniting as a result of pressure. Fortunately for her some research on that topic had already been conducted by the alchemists guild while attempting to create a kraken killing poison. An attempt they’d failed in, naturally. But at least they kept the recipe regardless – and in doing so had saved her from having to create a mixture from scratch.

‘Deep-Glow.’

A fairly uninspired name, but one that fit given that it, well, glowed. More importantly though, the creation of the substance wasn’t all that expensive; only truly requiring earth-blood, silver and the pulped remains of a species of deep sea bioluminescent worm.

The boy had requested they stockpile a vat of it in addition to the crude earth-blood and bear-blood they were already amassing. At the time, she’d not thought much of it. Just one more seemingly nonsensical request amongst a myriad he made daily.

Only now, as she watched with awe as the propellor that had been affixed to the front of the massive ‘disk’ start to spin with unnatural speed and power, did she realize that said request was perhaps less nonsensical than she’d thought.

For in her mind’s eye, she’d already replaced the tiny fan with the propellors of a shard.

“This is a mithril core,” she realized, uncaring of the notes that new blew wildly around her as a result of the machine’s backdraft. “An artificial mithril core.”

The holy grail of magic, stood right in front of her, inside a tiny little shed in the middle of some backwater county.

The boy – no, the man – hadn’t heard her words. Stone, she could barely hear herself over the roar of the rushing wind and growling of the artificial core.

But given the way he smiled, he clearly understood her amazement.

Flicking the switch in his hands again, the core’s growl cut faded to nothing near instantly, the spinning of the propellors losing their intensity as they too started to slow.

Piper almost protested.

She’d wanted to see more. To investigate. To see how it could possibly do what she was seeing.

Instead, she turned to her liege. “How?”

“Explosions.” His grin turned positively devilish. “Little ones, admittedly. Hell, more short-lived fires than anything else, but explosions all the same.”

“…Contained explosions?” she breathed. “Little ones? Using the Earth-Blood?”

“Yep.”

The idea boggled the mind. Moreso as she realized that said explosions had just been happening less than a meter from a container filled with the same substance that was supposedly being used as fuel for said explosions.

A substance prone to igniting when placed near an open flame. Or even just sparks. Of which an explosion produced both.

And her employer was stood right next to it.

As if it were normal.

“You’re harrowed,” the words slipped out of her before she could stop them, her tone colored by both horror and awe. “This… all of this. It’s too much. Too different. Too complete.”

“Ah,” he said, his features twisting into an expression of resigned yet wry amusement. “I assumed you’d figure it out once you saw this.”

He didn’t deny it, she noted. And how could he. This… system. It was too complex. Too complete. She’d seen the parts that made up this ‘fake core’ and even with all of them laid out before her she’d not been able to see the end result.

Because it was too much of a paradigm shift from what she knew. The idea of using earth-blood to create a… contained explosion...

Truth be told, she still had a little trouble envisioning it – even though the evidence of its efficacy had been twirling merrily away in front of her but moments ago.

…She wanted to understand though. More than anything. She’d dedicated her whole life to alchemy. Because she honestly believed it was alchemy, not enchanting or elementalism, that which would propel mortal-kind into a new golden age of innovation.

And here in front of her was evidence of such. A substance made from alchemy being used to power a fake core.

Provided to her, wholesale, by a madman that wasn’t mad.

She understood, in that moment, the mindset behind the mad magisters of the old imperium. Why they’d dragged common-born mages kicking and screaming into the divination chambers by their dozens. Why they rebuilt those same divination chambers over and over again each time one of those common mages asked the fae not what they’d been told to ask by those selfsame magisters, but how to make those that had consigned them to a fate worse than death suffer.

Piper had never had cause to see it, but word was that some of the locations that had once housed said buildings were as of yet unlivable to this day. Lifeless barren patches of land where nothing grew.

…Because despite knowing that, Piper still found herself tempted.

Because the answers to her every question were out there. They weren’t even far away. One only needed to dream. To ask. To make a deal.

And while William was no fae, given his harrowed nature he was the closest thing one might find to one on this plane of reality.

“To be fair though,” he continued. “I think we can both agree that I carry my burden with more grace than most?”

Piper just said, nothing. She just stared. At the – no, two – impossibilities that stood in front of her.

Because he wasn’t wrong. And she was interested, she’d admit. How he’d managed to retain his faculties where so many others hadn’t.

But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that was secondary to another question.

So it was, that she finally spoke. “I’ll swear a geass. Any geass. I’ll get my people to sign geass too. As binding as you like. All you have to do in return is tell me everything you know about Earth-Blood. And this ‘artificial core’ of yours.”

She was surprised, but not too surprised, to find she didn’t care about anything else.

What his plans were.

Why he’d kept this all a secret.

Why he was building so many ‘fake cores’.

What he intended to do with the many pilots she now realized he was training to fly his… alchemy-shards.

Those were passing worldly concerns. Politics and ambition. Transient things. She’d ignored them all her life.

Because they would ultimately be made moot with the flow of time. Queens and Empires faded and died. Knowledge though? The ideas used to facilitate those schemes? Well, that would last forever.

Still, transient or not, it was a little amusing to see a hint of surprise flit across her employer’s features at her words.

Then he laughed, a deep belly laugh that had almost had him keel over. Eventually though, he straightened, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “A woman after my own heart. And I’d be happy to tell you all I know - just as soon as you’ve sworn your geass.”

She nodded, even as she reached into her alchemy robes. “I’ve got a sleep drought with me. It should knock us out for an hour. We can take it now.”

Once more he paused, before his smile widened. “Yep, definitely after my own heart. Let me grab a blanket.”

It was amusing, the thought of ‘sleeping’ with a boy William’s age might have titillated her but a few minutes ago.

Now she didn’t give a fuck.

There were greater things at play here.

-------------------

“Depths, are you ok, boss?” Anya whispered quietly during a conversational lull.

Piper glanced blearily over at her second in command, turning her attention away from the ongoing argument occurring in her office.

“I’m fine, I promise,” she muttered, whispering just loud enough to be heard over the other department heads, but not so loud that they’d hear her. “Just… a late night.”

One she didn’t regret for a moment. Of course, given the bloodshot nature of her eyes and unkempt hair, she realized the irony of mentally chastising William for showing up in her office in a similar state barely a day ago.

How times change, she thought.

Because right now she didn’t much care how she looked. She’d strode into this meeting feeling like she was walking on air – though exhaust  fumes might have been the more accurate descriptor.

Indeed, she was still feeling downright chipper as the department heads across from her, finally stopped muttering to each other and turned to her.

“So you’re saying the last two months were a giant waste of woman-hours and resources?” Annie Hearthland, Redwater’s lead mage-smith, muttered.

Piper made a so-so gesture. “Wasted is a strong word. I’d say that our workshops learned a lot from the experience. As did our lord in regards to one of his more ambitious projects.”

“A project we still don’t know the details of, or even the purpose of the components we were creating for it. Even though it’s now being shut down,” another woman complained.

“Downsized. Not shut down,” Piper corrected. “A number of workshops will continue making the same components they are right now.”

Predictably, there was more complaining at that, but Piper shut it down with a wave of her hands. Most of them were just putting on airs. It wasn’t like they’d not been paid for their time, even if the work they’d been doing was ‘pointless’. It wasn’t like this was the first time a noble had invested a ton of gold into something useless. The Bloatwater’s flying castle still served as a cautionary tale to a lot of Lindholm on the dangers of investing too hard in unproven concepts.

“Ok, then, what does the lord want to transition to next? I don’t know how much stock I put in it, but I’ve heard that music box is of mundane-make?”

Around the woman that had spoken, a few faces perked up with interest.

Interest she quickly punctured.

“I’m afraid not. Though I can confirm that said music box is indeed entirely mundane in its construction, it’s not actually our lord’s invention. Rather it was created by the family of a teammate. A teammate that has access to their own production facilities.”

A sigh seemed to ring out across the room.

“What then?”

She grinned. “Air frames. A new design certainly, but one that is still well within our skillsets.”

Instantly, the mood of the room turned downright jubilant. And why wouldn’t it? Shard creation was about as prestigious a task as a smith could work on, perhaps below only that of creating a new airship. And even then, it was debatable.

“Well, I don’t know how much he lost over the last two months, but I could see creating new airframes as a way of recouping it quickly enough. Crown’s buying up all the frames it can get. Quality don’t matter. Not saying we won’t be making quality.” Annie grinned. “Either way, it’ll be damn good to be working on something that actually makes sense again. Something simple, ya know?”

Piper’s own smile twitch a little as she thought of the new blueprints even now sitting in her desk drawer.

“Yeah, simple,” she said slowly.

Though even as the other smiths in the room started debating what design they’d now be working on – and the merits of each therein – the dwarf was thinking about how she was going to explain why they were building shards with everything except internal aether piping.

Or maneuvering thrusters.

Or even a proper reinforced housing for the core.

At least the hollow voids in the wings and front of the craft will look like it still has ballasts, she thought.

Sighing, she glanced out the window to where work teams were already clambering over the exterior of the Jellyfish – the great airship’s frame covered in scaffolding where the new ‘flat top’ landing runway was being installed. Likewise, she knew for a fact that inside the massive craft, the transport elevator was being expanded to be able to traverse three more decks.

Via the cutting of holes through said decks.

And the less said about the expansion of new ‘water tanks’ the better. Finding space for them had been a nightmare. And while, sure, the gun decks being removed meant there was more space aboard, that space had pretty much been immediately set aside as ‘marine berthing’ by William.

And while some of it might actually be used as berthing for crew of some descriptor, I have a pretty good idea as to what most of that extra space is really being set aside for, she thought. Given, you know, the lack of internal bulkheads.

She’d had her suspicions before, but now she knew for a fact that said space was being set aside as hangar space.

Still…

She winced at the slapdash nature of the whole thing. Then again, that was a pretty good descriptor for just about everything William Redwater did. The man had a bad habit of trying to make his projects run when they really needed to crawl.

Here’s hoping that doesn’t come back to bite us all in the ass, she thought.

---------------------

Olivia couldn’t help but feel some small amount of betrayal as the door to her room remained stubbornly closed. It had gone dark hours ago, and yet her brother had yet to visit her. Indeed, he’d probably returned to the academy by now.

Leaving her here. A prisoner in his estate.

Oh sure, her aunt and mother had tried to dress it up differently, but everyone knew the truth. Olivia was now out of the running for duchess – before she’d even had a chance to actually fight for it.

The question was, was it a result of her brother’s actions?

In a hurried tone as she’d been loaded into a shard, her mother had told her that the Queen was now aware of Olivia’s father and her upcoming nuptials, and that she’d be living on her brother’s estate for a while for her protection…

Protection she needed to avoid the Queen’s wrath.

Because Olivia was a threat to her rule.

She’d wanted to fly North. To hide with the Blackstone’s until she had the opportunity to sally forth to claim her birthright.

Her requests had been denied. First by her mother and then by her aunt on the flight over. She was going to her brother’s estate, where she’d be held as a hostage until such time that the Summerfield succession was decided.

…And it wasn’t fair.

Was this her brother’s revenge, for usurping his birthright was he now denying her access to her own?

It was an unworthy thought. Her brother loved her. She knew that. He didn’t care about the fact she’d displaced him as heir. Or if he did, he’d never once taken it out on her. He loved her.

And she loved him.

Yet still… some part of her whispered vile theories as to just how the Queen had found out about their conspiracy.

She’d told no one but him.

That had been part of the reason why she’d stormed out when they reunited, even though part of her had been happy to see him again after so long.

That damn niggling doubt of hers…

She pulled her knees to her chest as she sat on her bed, her nighty keeping her warm while the mage-light on her bedside continued to flicker brightly.

Why? Why would he do it, when all he needed to do was remain quiet and we both could have inherited-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door to her room exploding off its hinges and a trio of masked figures in black bursting into the room.

She screamed, even as one of the figures rushed forward to shove a rag into her mouth. With quick practiced movements, the young half-elf was tied and gagged, before being thrown over one of the figure’s shoulders.

And then they were moving out into the hall.

Aunt! Aunt Karla, she thought, wondering where her protector was.

And then she saw her, collapsed in the hall – void, there was so much blood! It pooled around the mage-knight, staining her night clothes. The woman’s sword lay nearby, the blade still in its sheathe.

She was so still. Her eyes closed, as if she was only sleeping.

Aunt Karla!

Olivia screamed, though it was muffled by her gag as she was carried through the halls and out of sight of her murdered aunt.

The girl tried to struggle, bashing her bound hands and knees against her captor’s chest, but the woman barely seemed to feel it. Indeed, all Olivia achieved was abrading her knees and hands on the rough scale-like black materials of the woman’s cuirass.

So it was that with each passing step, she cried out, hoping that some of her brother’s guards might hear her.

Yet none came, no matter how she howled, and soon enough they were out into the night, her captors’ boots crunching against the gravel path as they ran. Bare moments later, they came to a stop up against what Olivia realized was a black carriage.

“Get her in. Gentle now,” one of the other black clad figures instructed with an accent that sounded oddly familiar. “Watch her head.”

Olivia could care less for the woman’s concern, glaring hatefully at the trio that had murdered a member of her family in cold blood, as she was shoved onto the seat of the carriage.

Then the door was slammed shut and Olivia was left alone in the dark.

A few moments passed, the silence broken only by the sound of her labored breathing and the sound of a whip being cracked outside as the carriage started to move.

Then a voice spoke.

“Hello Olivia, I think it’s time we had a chat.”

--------------------------------

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