First

(Sorry for delay, still recovering from yesterday.)

Undying Blues

“Is it really that bad?”

“Lady Ungora once being Lady Wurana would be an insult and injury far greater than the wholeness of the war so far. By several orders of magnitude at least. La’ahbaron would take it not only personally, but deeply personally. It would justify everything she’s ever done out of paranoia and cause her to double, if not triple down. For all the faults of the La’ahbaron empire, they are relatively tame, they would each and every one grow to be much, much more extreme if knowledge of Ungora and her original identity would come out.”

“The Lady says that she’s not that person and was reborn. That she truly began life as an immortal.”

“Did she? Again, I respectfully request to hear what she told you of her origin. Again, the truth she gave you and the truth she gave to me are likely different, as truth can be a nebulous thing and shifts depending on who is hearing it.”

“What does that mean?” Sue’Li asks and he smiles.

“Well, to use an overly simple example. A knife might be something dangerous to you at times, but to me it’s something that cuts up food into bite sized pieces. They’re not dangerous at all. That’s because you are a Vish and I am an Ibu. Likewise, my being seen and recognized on sight is something I find very ordinary. But I’d wager is unusual to you. All these things are truths, but notice they’re different. Most things in life are like that. It’s why Facts and Truths are different. Make sense?”

“It does but... you’re loyal to La’ahbaron. I’m not sure you’d like to hear the story as the lady tells it.”

“I’m adult enough to know that you’re just repeating what someone else said. Getting upset at you for it is the action of a child. And I haven’t been a child in a long time. Likely longer than you’ve been alive.” Danburi assures her and she nods.

“Okay well...” She looks towards the machine whee the clothing is being washed. “I think we can get a summary of it out before the clothing finishes. “Her story begins upon a world where death and life had blended together as one. Where it was sanity and self control that died as the people and beasts were rendered immortal. She had found that world in a search for answers and had found answers not to her questions, but to questions she had yet to even imagine.”

“The Lady Ungora was reborn upon that world. In the temple of smoke where the sane and sober of the immortal sought to tame their inner discord she, as a mighty Ibu, was already well practised in the art and needed little, if any of their teaching. But she sought truth regardless and abided within the temple for a time. Learning to add their ways to her own refinement. But she didn’t stay satisfied for long and pushed out from the temple, testing herself against the mad, the violent and the twisted. She fought other immortals in all their forms and sought out a way to conquer endless life.” Sue’Li says.

“Stop skipping details!” One of the laundry girls protests. “This is the best part! Let me explain it to him!”

“Very well.” Sue’Li permits her.

“Thank you, oh named one.”

“Do you want a name?” Danburi asks and the would be storyteller pauses and stares.

“Uh... maybe?”

“Yun. It is a common shortening of Yunun. Meaning dutiful.” He says and there is stillness.

“I am Yun. I am... dutiful.” She says to herself. “Dutiful Yun! Yun the dutiful!”

There is laughter and a sense of relief to her tone. Names hold power, and he just gave her some. Now what will she do with it?

“Yun, if you’re so dutiful, then why not continue the story you were so eager to tell?” Sue’Li asks.

“Oh! Yes! I shall! Now your aunt, Lady Ungora, though she had yet to earn her name proper then, was seeking out a scholar she had heard rumours of. Granted the rumours were from the blood flecked lips of madwomen. But it was better than nothing. Her search brought her to a great snow choked canyon. Where every instinct relating to danger cried out to never enter it. Even the madwomen immortals in the area were being cautious, for they had cloaked themselves in white to blend in with the snow and pale flowers that grew in abundance despite the cold.”

“It didn’t take her long to find what had her so on edge. The winds shifting direction caused the light snow to blow against and start piling ever so on a massive creature that was watching carefully. It was a white serpent of such size that even The Lady was shorter than it’s fangs.

There was a rush of movement and the pink of it’s inner mouth as it suddenly lunged at her with such speed that even though she dodged the blow, the shockwave of the serpent striking the ground where she had stood knocked her further back and sent her skidding through the snow. By reflex she hurled her orojo with all the force she could muster, and couldn’t even dent a scale on the titanic monster.

But The Lady was resolved and unwilling to surrender to anything. Death had been stripped from her, so anything even resembling caution had been torn away. She charged forward even as the serpent rose up. It struck down and she jumped to meet it. It’s fangs slid off her Ibu skin and it’s jaws came down with the force to crush stone.

She caught them, standing in it’s mouth even as she slowly broke teeth and the tongue of the creature lashed at her. It thrashed, it roared, but it did not have the sense to stop biting her. Until it drove it’s head into the stone with such force that she was swept into the gullet of the monster.”

“She was eaten alive?” He asks.

“It’s not like she could die. But as she had lost her grip she was pushed further and further down into the gullet of the monster, a wall of broken stone and melted snow following her down. The internals of the beast were with crushing strength and axiom sapping nature designed to allow the monster to digest it’s food. But The Lady, like all others of the world were immortal. She was not alone down there. Others were as well, suffering in the gullet. Unable to die. Unable to breathe or see or hear or smell. All they had was their numbed sense of touch to navigate through the hell of eternal torment.

Around her the stone was broken to gravel, then the gravel ground down to sand and the sand faded entirely to reinforce the unnatural scales of the monster.

Then she found another. They thrashed, panicked and then she placed a palm on their brow. She heard their thoughts, impossible screams and hellish pain. She knew the true danger then. It wasn’t digestion, it was the desolation of the mind. On the mad world where death was undone the greatest defeat wasn’t death, it couldn’t be. It was surrender. Surrender to the torment, to the pain. So she commanded the Tret, using the Axiom to instill her desires into her mind. Giving her focus, giving her purpose. And she sought out the others.” Yun continues and Danburi nods in rapt attention.

“Eventually her plan got around to all the others and they all began to pull as hard on the Axiom as they could, pulling and pulling until Null detonated out. Everyone dropped, but somehow, no one died. The snake wasn’t fond of that though and began thrashing. Over and over again it thrashed and squirmed as they Nulled the monster from the inside time and again until a massive flood of water poured in and the tunnel within the monster was opened by the water.

They were swept through it’s digestive tract and out into the light. But The Lady was greatly wroth with the monster and unwilling to let it simply leave without at leas a marking of her rage. Even if it was immortal as she, she grasped the tip of it’s tail near where she was swept out and began to exert as much might as she could muster without Nulling herself.

Around the base of a great tree she pulled the tail of the monster and tied it into a knot, then, knowing it would free itself shortly, she climbed the tree with great vigour and tore a branch asunder into many massive shards of sharp wood. Endowing them with Axiom she thrust the wood shards into the muscles and joints between the beast, paralyzing it and pinning it to the mighty tree.

But that was just the prelude to her proper plan. For with the serpent trapped she landed upon the roots of the tree and directed it to drink deep of the surrounding waters and life. Much of the forest withered and began to rot as that singular tree grew and grew, up and out, the wood slowly enveloping the serpent. In short order it began to thrash and roar in pain and confinement. It understood that for the first time since it had been endowed with endless power and life, it was now losing and would lose further.

She stopped it from biting away parts of it’s body and forced the creature to scream and squirm. She struck the beast in the head through the socket of the eye and stunned it before binding it’s head to the tree. She then caused it to grow further until the tree, already massive completely enveloped the serpent. Then she slew the tree and tore out it’s water before setting it ablaze. Forcing the heat into the monster harder and harder until nothing but ashes remained.”

“An incredible fight, but how did she learn anything from that? Beyond her new immortality being immune to Null of course.” He asks.

Because within the ashes, and she is to this day uncertain if it was within the tree or within the serpent, was a strange stone. It was a disk with holes and an engraving of numbers and a strange series of lines on one side. According to the Lady, learning that the holes represented the brightest stars in the sky took a long time. The numbers were the day of the year, and the line showed the scenery. A place she must stand to find what it concealed.”

“That is incredibly convoluted and prone to failure.” Danburi protests.

“That’s because Yun got it wrong. She’s misremembered, the numbers were not a time, they were coordinates for the largest mountain in the world. She deciphered it by standing upon it’s peak and raising the disk to the sky until the brightest stars shone through each hole. Then she lowered it to find the place on the horizon that matched the remaining markings. It gave her directions to another temple. One that was... most bizarre.”

“Bizarre how?” Danburi asks but moments before the washing is finished. “Oh... please keep going.”

“Well, when she arrived there was a scroll flapping in the wind. One that stated she must conquer that which blinds her to her follies, that which deafens her to wisdom, that which whispers lies and that most terrible thing within. Then, after reading the scroll a great haze came over the world and it shimmered. She was suddenly atop a temple in the sky, but she was not alone. Four terrible beasts stalked the halls. One hunted with baleful red eyes, another listened for her and would scream to alert the others, a third would echo the screams of it’s fellows and bringing swarms of the screeching undying. Then finally was the fourth. It was cunning. It was clever and quiet. It stayed away, kept it’s distance and until it was slain like it’s kin the great illusion remained. But after slaying them, she entered the temple and found portraits of them. Complete with the wounds she had heaped upon the beasts.”

“What could possibly have been protected by such strange guardians and riddles?” Danburi asks in wonder. Every inch the attentive and fascinated audience.

“Death was there.” Yun says. “All the world’s death banished into a single blade. One so deadly it brought the deathless to their knees to merely gaze upon it. And to hold it unsheathed rendered the wielder mortal again. For a time at least.”

“Oh...” Danburi notes. He wasn’t expecting THIS information. But he should have something to compare to when she tells him this part. “Hmm... when she told me of her time on that world she focused much on what immortality did to the unworthy and the frail, and how herbs and a great deal of meditation was required for those who were not her to handle the immortality.”

“Really?”

“Really. Perhaps she meant to teach me about my own new state and how to live with it, as she likely meant to teach you of her power and worthiness to lead.”

First Last

The sky above Sector 4 was the color of a fresh bruise, bruised purple, it was weeping ash. Down below, in the trenches, the human garrison was whittled down to its final battery cell.

No, they weren't soldiers by trade. When the Fleet arrived, only teachers, architects, and gardeners could be counted among them. But the stars don't care about people who valued peace above all else, and the orbital strikes had burned away every distinction between who people used to be and what was left of them.

Julian commanded the post, but he feared there won’t be many days or hours left of that honor, with his left arm wrapped in a crude, burnt tourniquet. Vael, a massive, four-meter-tall Voulian heavy-support unit, sat beside him. Voulians were built like tanks. They looked awesome, like imposing living granite, their species bred for interstellar conquest, before they shattered the chains, joined the coalition of free worlds. That was before today, of course, where the free was under quite a bit of artillery fire.

Voulians supposedly had no fear for anything. And not only that, but they were meant to outlive everyone.

"Julian," Vael’s voice rumbled through the localized audio translator; tectonic plates grinding. "The thermal readings.” Was there just the slightest hint of tremble in the big fella’s voice? “From your primary artery. The readings are dropping. You….”

Julian didn't look down at his side, where his tunic had stiffened into a dark, glossy crust. "It’s nothing, big guy. L-Leaning back on an old cliché. Just a scratch." He smiled above the pain.

"That is a statistical lie," Vael replied, gently placing a crushing, four-fingered hand, usually designed to rip armored bulkheads apart, against Julian's uninjured shoulder with an unexpected tenderness. "Your kind is terribly fragile. You burn out if you are too brave.”

“I wasn’t too brave today, Vael. I let us down.”

“No. You gave them. Hell. There was just. Too many.”

"Yeah," Julian smiled again, weakly, and he coughed up a streak of red that he quickly wiped away with the back of his hand. "Sorry. Though you rockhead should we all right. Me? I’ll burn out like a human.”

Outside, the screech of atmospheric re-entry ripped through the air. The swarm was returning. Ordinarily, Julian would be fearful but today, he was rather feeling light about it. The synthetic intelligence that controlled the invading armada, a system that viewed organic life as meat, was launching its final wave. There was no evacuation ships left nor was there cavalry on the horizon.

There was only the two of them.

"Vael," Julian whispered, his vision blurring at the edges as the gray edges of exhaustion crept into his sight. "Do you remember what you told me about your homeworld? Before the war?"

"The Valley of Singing Glass," Vael murmured, his massive optic sensors dimming to a soft, amber glow in order to conserve power. "The winds blow through the crystalline spires. It makes a sound. Like a thousand chimes ringing at once. My people used to sit beneath them. For centuries, listening to the passage. Of time."

"Must be nice," Julian breathed, his head leaning heavily against Vael’s armored chest plate. It was freezing cold, but it felt solid. It felt like a wall against something terrible. Something terrible…like death, he supposed. "To have a song that lasts forever."

"Your kind has songs, Julian."

"Yeah. But they’re short as heck. Three minutes, maybe four. Then they j-just kinda end."

"Perhaps," Vael said, his voice dropping to a low hum that trembled through the trench floor, "that is why they are so bright. A fire that burns for an eternity is just like any cold star. Yours... yours hurt to look at."

A deafening roar split the sky. The first wave of drone-hound infantry crested the ridge, their crimson optics locked onto the trench, and Julian shuddered, knowing he himself and his friend were the targets.

His fingers tightened around the grip of his plasma rifle. He tried to raise it, but his arms refused to obey, darn bastards. The weight of the weapon proved too much. The weight of the world was too much.

"Vael," Julian whispered, tears finally cutting clean tracks through the ash on his cheeks. "I'm scared. I don't want to go. I don’t want you to get taken.” More importantly, I don’t want to die. Is that cowardly? No. Yes. I’m a coward…I’m…

No. You fought for days. You held off insurmountable odds. Even Vael was surprised. And now you’re going to die while he lives, on, as a member of his immortal race, that Vael, Julian’s friend…

Julian was jolted out of his thoughts by a violent screech of tearing metal. He looked up in shock. Vael had ripped off his own central core-plate, showing his primary thermal reactor to the open air. The red glow of his life-force spilled out, illuminating the grim walls of the trench in a warm light.

"You need not be in the dark, little builder," Vael said softly. Yes, before this, before this war, Julian had been an architect on earth. He had joined the coalition to protect space from the armada and not only that but to find his brother Dave. He reached out and wrapped his massive, heavy arms completely around Julian, forming an impenetrable cage of warm, living stone against the freezing onslaught of the enemy. "I am a Voulian. My internal furnace can sustain a localized discharge for three minutes. Exactly enough time, I’d think."

"Vael…n-n-no! What are you doing? You’ll melt your core! You’ll die!"

"I am three hundred years old, Julian. I have heard the glass song a thousand times," the giant whispered, resting his massive head against Julian's shoulder. "Let me—”

The first drone leaped into the trench, its claws flashing.

Inside the embrace of his friend, Julian felt the cold fade away, along with his fear, his terror, his doubts. They were replaced by a radiant heat. He closed his eyes, his breathing slowing. And as the sounds of battle echoed distantly against the shell of the armor protecting him, Julian began to hum, a soft, uncertain and innocent melody from a childhood he had mostly forgotten until now. In exchange for what his friend had given him, he offered a song from the human world.

It was shaky. And it was most definitely out of tune, more blood than words.

And it was the most magnificent thing the stars had ever heard.

Three minutes later, the valley fell silent. The red glow in the trench faded to a dull, gray ash, buried beneath the quiet snow of a world that had just perished. But deep within that silence, the echo of a brief and tangible song lingered, refusing to go away.

Sister Catherine 

It’s a scary time to be in the city of Triumph's Seat. It’s really the only way she could term it. She'd been in places like this before in the course of her ministry. Kosovo in particular had been... tense. Like Triumph's Seat is tense. Right before all of Hell had broken loose on Earth in ways that she sometimes wishes she could forget. If there’s one thing she’s cursed her restored youth for, it’s that her mind is suddenly sharp and agile again. The better to carry the Cross and bear witness, of course, but with that blessing comes its price - and the price for Sister Catherine is remembering blackened bodies from fire, children missing limbs from landmines or from getting too close to an unexploded bomb. All manner of nightmares and terrors... and it hardly stops there. 

She had followed the call where people had had need of her and the mercy of Christ. That had meant going to very dark and unpleasant places at times. War-torn sub-Saharan African countries, narco states in South America, even deep into lands dominated by Islam, where she'd been advised to hide her habit and wear a local head dress instead, lest militants decide that a sister of Christ was a particularly choice target for torture and beheading. All the sadder that those men who would have so harmed her if they'd decided it suited their flights of fancy, or whatever the demons that lived in their heads told them God wanted... proclaimed to worship the same God as she. The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. How one could read the same things she had, see things she had, and then come to such horrendously different conclusions is not something Sister Catherine is truly prepared to interrogate even after she'd gotten more education on the subject.  

Still, even in the face of what had seemed likely a painful death, she hadn't hidden then. Had carried the cross with pride. If it had been her time, if she had been called to martyrdom, then so be it. She would not question God's plan for her life. For the challenge set before her. 

Thankfully, that had not been her fate then, but now she’s in a similar situation. Instead of angry men, the streets are filled with angry women, as word of crackdowns and large-scale brawls with security forces spread across the city. The chaos is coming again, like it always does, like it always will. Her brother had been a Marine, God rest his soul. He'd always kept one recruiting poster up in his home, all the way to his hospice room before his death. She has it tucked away in her things up in orbit, one of her meager personal possessions. In times like this, she thinks of her brother, and she thinks of that poster: Marines running into action with weapons ready, followed by armored vehicles rumbling ashore out of the sea, emblazoned with the slogan 'Marines Move Towards The Sounds Of Chaos'.

It’s a good poster. One that had always inspired a young Catherine, and had even had her looking at becoming a Marine herself once upon a time… but she'd gotten a very different kind of call after a close brush with death in her late teens; like her brother had never looked back when he'd received his call, she'd never looked back when she received hers. Still, while she was no Marine... Catherine liked to think that, in her own way, she too runs towards the sounds of chaos. 

She hadn't hid from chaos back on Earth, and wouldn't hide from chaos now. Joan wants her to, but Joan's concern is protecting Catherine's life and person, not looking after the masses that are her charge. She’s no priest, but she could be a shepherd of these women, just as Christ had called his priests to be shepherds of men. This is her duty, her calling; just as a warrior carries the sword and goes to battle, so would Catherine go to carry the cross. 

That's what she had said in the shelter of the safehouse, of course. It had sounded very impressive in her mind, and Joan had even accepted the argument… but now that she’s out on the streets, things are looking very dicey indeed. Being unafraid, not allowing yourself to be intimidated or silenced by those who would see you on your knees, is one thing. It’s quite another thing to willingly shove one's head between a lion's jaws. There is in fact such a thing as tempting God, if one acts without prudence. 

Out here... she’s thinking now that she might have acted with less prudence than might have otherwise been optimal. 

The public squares are all filling up, packed to the gills with women forming different groups, some of whom are clearly antagonizing each other. The shouting is a constant roar now, only broken by the occasional sound of weaponsfire from other parts of the city, which certainly add to the general anxiety. Even from here, it’s clear to see that one of the matrician estates, those shining manor houses on the hill... is burning, and everyone says the Praetorians were the cause. 

The BeeGees, the new security forces recruits, barely trained - and, Catherine suspects, many from 'questionable' backgrounds compared to what one would like for a real police officer - are all over the place too, and it’s clear they were in over their heads. She knew this type of person all too well from her travels on Earth. They aren't police officers; they’re the regime's thugs, and violence is their first and only course of action if intimidation and threats don't keep the populace docile. 

It’s a volatile mix. A powder keg. But through it all she’s done her best to help people, praying with some, encouraging others, handing out some food and coin to try and get the few homeless women who normally call the square home off the streets for the night in case things turn violent. Simply trying to be a voice of reason... but as so often happens with a quiet and calm voice, she’s being drowned out by shouting. 

Her one great relief in all of this has been Jaina. Her most fervent convert. Once things are quiet again - or, even better, once the mission the Undaunted had in this place, whatever it is, is over - she would take Jaina up to the Tear. To see Father Jameson. Jaina had asked to be baptized, something that thrilled Catherine to her very heartstrings. 

The thought is a happy note on a day that is not a happy one. The skies of Dagrquey are blood-red as the sun heads towards the horizon. Believer she is, but superstitious Catherine generally is not... but that certainly looks ominous to her. 

She tries to keep it out of her mind as she quietly prays with a small group of women, aided by Jaina and watched over by Joan and her sisters who were loitering nearby, far enough to not disturb the prayers, but close enough, it was hoped, for them to intervene if things got out of hand. The whole situation makes the Sword of St. Catherine, the sword of Joan of Arc, weigh heavily (if only metaphorically) in its concealed axiom pocket. God had sent a sword to the stars along with the cross and His faithful. Would the sword find its purpose here among the Ha'quinye, on this world so far from Earth?

"Our Father who art in heaven..." 

A scream from across the plaza interrupts her group as they start another rendition of the Lord's Prayer, a wordless shriek that ends in the electrical sizzle of a shock pistol discharging. The scent of ozone is suddenly strong in the air as someone nearby shouts "They're coming!" 

It makes sense, in the end. That the BeeGees and their mistresses would do something about this gathering. If they’re cracking down on the matricians, the upper class, then it was always only a matter of time until the Ha'quinye imperial boot returned to its habitual resting place on the neck of the plebians. Apparently that time is now. 

"This is an illegal assembly! Disperse and return to your homes or you will be fired on!" A woman's monotone voice across a public address system is met immediately with shouts and retaliation. Joan starts moving towards where Catherine and Jaina are kneeling with the others... and things slow down, as adrenaline fills Catherine's veins at the 'snap crack' sound that she knows is the discharge of a rail gun. 

Someone had fired. She'd never know for sure if it was a security officer with an itchy trigger finger, or if some woman in the crowd had retaliated towards their oppressors, but everything immediately goes to Hell in a moment, in a way she'd never been personally involved in before. She'd been there for the aftermath. The pain. The crying. The weeping. 

Now she’s here for the bleeding - and bleed people would, as the BeeGees begin opening fire with their laser weapons, and the entire plaza is suddenly moving as people desperately try to get away. 

For all her talk of chaos, just minutes before, this is chaos of a kind she's never seen before. Never understood. Not really. She thought she'd run towards chaos... but now she understands in an all too horrible way what being on ground zero of the chaos is actually like. People rush in every direction, a sea of Ha'quinye suddenly filling the space between Catherine and her Cannidor guardians, a mere thirty feet suddenly a mile in the surging tide of life, desperate to escape the laser fire from the BeeGees. There was no escape for those desperate though. Catherine could see and here that there are already mech suits moving in from all directions, with armed and armored riot troopers and spear-wielding praetorians starting to move in behind them.

One of the mech troopers responds to a rock thrown at her cockpit with ruthless lethal force. 

Catherine can feel Joan's armored hand on her shoulder, having finally made it to her charge, trying to pull her away, but a screaming child stumbles right in front of the stomping feet of the mech suit... and Catherine lunges for the child with all of her strength, yanking the little one clear as they collapse in a heap. 

People rush around them as Catherine covers the girl with her body, feet stepping all over her as Joan swears in the distance with a roar; 

"Out of the way, damn it! Let me get to the sister!" 

Jaina's voice is much closer, the bold young woman, fighting through the crowd, resisting going for the weapon Catherine is certain she has. Before long she's by Catherine's side, shooing people back and helping her up. The girl is carried off almost immediately by a terrified mother as another wave of troops flood into the plaza. 

"We have to go!" Jaina says, pulling on Catherine's arm. As they turn to leave, though, it's already far too late. Catherine can practically feel it in her bones before the shock truncheon descends on her, catching her across the shoulders and laying her out flat on the paving stones next to Jaina, electricity making every muscle and fiber in her body twitch violently.

Jaina tries to resist; Catherine can tell because the guardswomen give her a few more blows, and a couple savage kicks besides. In moments they're bound and being dragged along towards air cars set up to haul prisoners... but a golden armored figure suddenly intervenes. 

"Ah. That one. We've been looking for her. She goes to the palace dungeons."

"Yes, ma'am," the BeeGee frog marching Sister Catherine along, says.

"What about this one?" The second BeeGee says, emphasizing Jaina with a rabbit punch to the ribs that makes Catherine wince, even though Jaina doesn't react at all. 

"...Take them both. You checked them for weapons?"

"This one." Jaina's guard again. "Had a rail pistol, in addition to the usual laser pistol and a knife. She might have been the shooter." 

"Hmm. What about the other one?"

"She's a holy woman and an off-worlder. She didn't have axiom pockets in the usual spots." Catherine's guard says dismissively. 

"Some holy woman. Guess her goddess was out to lunch today. Throw them in our APC. We'll take them from here. What about the other aliens?"

"One of our women fired on them by 'accident', they defended themselves, but suppressing fire only. The original officer who shot at them was wounded, but it's just a graze. Barely needs medical attention."

"...Damn it. They just had to be here. This is going to potentially be a diplomatic incident. I'll call it in. We wanted the preacher but a light fight with the bodyguards might cause trouble. In the meantime. Find them."

"Yes ma'am!"

Both guards salute, and begin to drag Catherine and Jaina towards the waiting Praetorian vehicle. They’re being taken to the palace, and for some reason, that seems like a very, very bad thing to Catherine. Once they’re alone... she would need to pray. 

It’s about the only thing she could do in this nightmare, and she would not be found wanting. 

Series Directory Last

I had a conversation earlier today about humanity's ability to over-ride fear and offer true sacrifice. I hope I did this story right.

---

Seconds remained.

Margaret didn't know who it was that was crying in the abandoned building, but she knew that someone must do something.

The only other figures around were standing at the door to the building, pretending to not notice the horrifying screams coming from within, and watching her in a way that indicated they didn't want to be obvious about doing so.

Fear tightened her chest. Her vision narrowed. Breathing became difficult.

- Somebody must act.

She breathed deeply and forced herself to think.

The door was about twenty metres away. A short sprint. A shoulder-charge into one of the guards. The can of pepper spray from her purse to blind the second.

So many failure points. Uneven ground. Unknown opponents. Whatever waited inside.

She was almost parallel to the door now. Her step faltered. Every instinct screamed at her to keep walking.

- No.

- This must be done.

She turned and sprinted. The guards were watching for trouble, but not for this. By the time they reacted, she was already upon them. Her shoulder rammed into the first. A strange click shot through her arm; she wasn't sure if that was her shoulder, the impact, or the guard's ribs.

He was forced into the wall behind him. His head snapped backwards into the unyielding concrete with a sickening thud.

The second guard barely had time to raise his hands before a cloud of pepper spray hit him in the face. Margaret drove her knee into his groin. He folded instantly.

Through the terror came the crying. This close to the building, she could tell it was a child.

- This must be stopped.

She grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open. Inside, a teenage boy sat bound to a chair, hysterical with fear.

Margaret ran towards him.

The knot wasn't complicated, but her shaking hands made it a struggle to undo the bindings.

In front of her another figure appeared out of the shadows.

For a brief moment, she considered that she could get back through the door. Safety.

She fought the thought, buying just enough time to loosen the knots enough so the child could wriggle free.

The figure raised a weapon.

Margaret pushed the child clear of the chair and threw herself between him and the gun as the muzzle flashed. Unbearable pain ripped through her, but she was glad to see that the boy was almost out the door.

Another shot.

Her final thought was not for herself.

She simply hoped the boy's story was worth it.

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There was public interest in the primals that’d been brought to Ushala, though few journalists were willing to sit in the same room as Kaitlin and Finley; after all, they could get their footage from security cameras and their storylines from “sapient” personnel. However, talking to a human would be juicy content, which was why Snelga began shopping around for FilmShare channels that’d bring the genius researcher on their show. The wide audiences of social media personalities would facilitate public outreach.

We had the perfect match for Kaitlin, when the largest Kexin PopSci channel invited her to a “special” studio for a livestream taping. As the first to dare to talk to a human, the views were all but guaranteed, and they could do a deeper introspective on primals! I hoped people in Council space would begin to see the truth; this was progress. Finley insisted on staying behind, and when I offered to remain with him, he said he wanted time alone.

Kaitlin would fit in perfectly on a PopSci channel, though I’m doubtful they’re respectful of her as an equal in their field. Still, her test results prove a lot.

Kaitlin frowned as the armored truck backed into a carefully-prepared tunnel, unloading her into a sealed part of the studio. “The Council arranged this…welcome?”

“I think they’re filming everything you do,” I whispered. “Smile.”

Snelga leaned closer to the human’s ear. “Kaitlin, sweetie…you’re very intelligent, so I’m sure you could guess this on your own, but I don’t know how accustomed you are to reading civilized people. I imagine they’ll want to set you up to fail by asking hard questions, or things that’ll make you angry, for content. That’s why I asked if you’re really sure you can avoid showing anger. We can always say you’re sick.”

“I can handle internet trolls and content creators,” Kaitlin chuckled. “I understand sensationalism and gotcha journalism. Don’t worry, Snelga. We’ve got this under control.”

“I hope you do, because we’re going to be kept in a separate room, so we can’t signal you or calm you. They’re…skeptical of the genius primal, though they happily marketed you that way.”

“I figured they might try to prompt a reaction from me. Thank you for trusting me with the reality, Snelga. I’m aware they’re using me for a viral moment, but I appreciate you looking out for me.”

The veterinarian showed some reassurance at Kaitlin’s evident comprehension, though she still seemed uneasy about letting a primal speak in front of a camera on her own. I thought back to filming my social media messages at NASA, and that internet gamesmanship was hardly a foreign concept to them. From behind the safety of glass walls, the crew directed Dr. Sharp to follow the overly large areas to the studio. Meanwhile, we were pulled out through a side door, and taken to a control room to watch the livestream.

Kaitlin seated herself in a chair by the microphone, placing the headset on without needing a prompt and waving at the pink-faced Kexin separated by a glass pane. “Hello! My name’s Dr. Kaitlin Sharp, and as someone who worked for a space agency back on Earth, I’m proud to represent humanity. I’m glad to be here; thank you for having me!”

“Thank you for joining us, Kaitlin. I’m Tolgor, the host of Sort-of-Science,” the Kexin replied, eyeing the primal warily. The show had handled her like a dangerous animal, aside from the technology given to her. “Can you read the chat in front of you? We’re live translating it to your language. Right now, I see a comment that the headphones look adorable on you.”

Kaitlin’s eyes flicked downward, and she nodded. “I can read it, yes. I’m excited to see what questions your viewers have about primals. I’m grateful you decided to tune in!”

So far so good, Kaitlin. I wonder, does she feel that burning beneath her skin of exasperation? Finley put it in terms I can understand.

I read the chat, finding myself a little disgruntled by some of the messages that were scrolling by quickly. 

• “The animal talks really well!”
• “a genius primal? As if dude…”
• “Please make the human lose control on camera Tolgor I’ll sub for a cycle”
• “how domesticated is it?”
• “be nice Kaitlin is reading this •\/•”
• “Why do you care Slinger_4?”
• “I want to hear what she has to say, primals are smart and she’s a cute, talking animal *,•,* It’s kind of mean since she can understand.”
• “Yeah we should be respectful to the animals. The council was ploaxcoded with this shit.”
• “It’s only an animal.”
• “Animals have feelings too!”
• “There’s no reason to hurt her.”
• “arent humans happier higher up? It would be more at ease in a tree. Tolgor shouldve given it an elevated space.”

Kaitlin flashed her teeth, laughing. “Our roots are arboreal, but humans adapted to living on the ground long, long ago. I’m quite happy with a chair.”

“I see you’ve already gotten the idea. I’m going to open the floor up to viewer questions,” Tolgor explained. “You can choose which ones to answer, but I might press you for more details or add in a few questions of my own. To clarify which you’re responding to, I ask you to highlight it on your screen, and I’ll read it out. Do you understand?”

“I do.” Her eyebrows knitted together as a deluge of questions came in, before she moved her cursor. “There, I selected one.”

Tolgor looked uncomfortable with her selection. “PrimalsAreCool asks, ‘Could you be angry for us right now?’”

“Ha, nice username, but no. Unfortunately for Tolgor’s view count, I’m afraid I can only make myself as angry as you can make yourself happy, sad, or any other emotion. It’s not a conscious decision. Most humans don’t like being angry either, so we generally avoid triggers and try not to stir those feelings if possible. In an instance where we’re angry, that means something is wrong or hurtful, which I think we mutually agree is negative.”

“What’s an example of something you find wrong or hurtful?”

“That varies from person to person! Anger can look very different in each individual human. While it’s an uncomfortable feeling—like I think any kind of hurt is, and I’m assuming you don’t want to hurt me—it doesn’t take over our faculties.” 

“Let me ask a more specific question then. How do we avoid making a primal angry? It seems like anything, no matter how minor, can set you off.”

“Clear communication and respect go a long way with us. You’ll find we’re pretty reasonable and that acting on anger, at least in any severe way, is rare and a last resort. Scientifically, which means I’ll leave it to you to add in the graphics and footnotes, anger is part of the fight-or-flight system. It places itself in the same family as fear, a response activated for survival.”

I surveyed the chat, gauging whether they’d listened to Kaitlin.

• “that response is like actually pretty reasonable •x•”
• “who taught the primal to talk like a person”
• “if this is what a ‘genius’ primal is I’m not impressed, all it’s doing is talking and nobody gives me points for that. like yay it can understand a lot of vocabulary.”
• “Kaitlin answered the question that was asked ,/\,”
• “i thought it was a good answer. clearly intelligent enough to put together a nice sentence. humans deserve more respect.”
• “animal rights nuts are working overtime to defend Kaitlin •¥•”
• “people wanted to know. she explained it.”
• “But why did the primal even pick that question?!”
• “Maybe it was all the poor animal could understand.”
• “•¥• o genius Kaitlin from the wilds, please tell us about quantum mechanics.”

Tolgor startled, as Kaitlin highlighted that last comment. “That…question? Primal, I believe they were being sarcastic.”

“I’m aware, but I’d love to talk science. Disclaimer that, as I’m sure your reasonable viewers know, no one can be an expert in all fields,” the NASA researcher began. “Any passing knowledge I have about the world and how things work, I’m happy to discuss! And our friend here mentioned one of these most mind-boggling fields. As one of our quantum physicists, Richard Feynman, said, ‘If you think you understand quantum mechanics, you don’t.’”

“You have ‘quantum physicists’ who are considered experts just for saying that? So humans can’t begin to understand such a complicated field.”

“I didn’t say we can’t begin to understand, but rather that the field defies full comprehension and goes against the laws that apply on a broader scale. It merely goes against intuition of how the world works, since it’s mired with contradictions and complicated interactions! It dabbles in uncertainty, making it impossible to measure specific data points.”

“Kaitlin, do you understand anything more than it being complicated and uncertain, or should we move on? Your vocabulary won’t pass as understanding.”

Kaitlin blinked forcefully, before pulling out her smartphone. “What I’m holding in my hand is the most fine-tuned, mass-engineered uses of quantum physics in human history. The transistors here use parts that are mere nanometers: you could fit hundreds of thousands on the tip of a finger. Incredibly precise machines place them together—it’s a technological marvel.”

“What is your point?”

“That when you’re dealing with parts that small, you have to account for quantum mechanics. In fact, you rely on them for the device to function. Memory storage works by quantum tunneling. The electron’s probability clouds allow them to pass through gates that’d otherwise be impenetrable barriers. This stores this charge as needed to indicate a 1 in binary coding.”

“Impressive linguistics. Did you memorize that answer?”

“No.” Annoyance flashed in Kaitlin’s eyes, though I figured I was the only one who could recognize it. “I assure you, humans are more than capable of learning complex topics. Could a simple animal have explained any of that?”

“An animal who was coached and is able to memorize words. Your test is believed by many to be an elaborate hoax; you’re a primal.”

“That I am capable of feeling anger has no bearing on my intelligence.” The human was silent for a long moment, before returning to a placid smile and a warmer tone of voice. “Skepticism is a healthy trait of any scientist though, as you and your viewers must well know! I don’t blame you for thoroughness. Why don’t you ask me questions I couldn’t possibly prepare for?”

Tolgor leaned forward. “Okay, astrophysicist. Describe what a pulsar is.”

“A neutron star that rotates quite quickly and emanates radiation. That beam can be seen from planetary observation at regular intervals! It’s generated by the pulsar’s magnetic field, which is misaligned with its rotation axis. It’s also quite high-energy, so I don’t imagine you’d want to fly your ships through gamma rays. Ohh, we actually discovered a new millisecond pulsar in the last few years, which was an exciting find!”

• “damn shes smart •x• I’m sold”
• “A cute animal explaining science things. More Kaitlin?”
• “she should narrate videos instead of tolgor he fell off honestly and he’s unfunny”
• “then why are you in his chat?”
• “…you’re right. Goodbye.”
• “maybe I’m dumber than a primal but what is a millisecond pulsar?”

Kaitlin highlighted the last question in the chat, smiling softly. “Hey, you’re not dumb. Never be afraid to ask questions; that’s the only way you’ll learn the answers. For what little my opinion counts, I think asking questions and being able to learn from each other is the sign of an intelligent species! That just means the pulsar rotates in mere milliseconds. Incredible magnetic fields. We use them to study relativity and learn more about binary star systems.”

“Okay, you know pulsars. Let’s…leave astrophysics,” Tolgor decided. “The Ploax are autotrophs. Explain what that means.”

The primal’s face brightened, genuine enthusiasm twinkling in her eyes. “I didn’t know that—about the Ploax, I mean! Xenobiology is something I could read about for hours, but what I know immediately is that makes them different from Craun. It means they can use abiotic natural resources, like plants do with sunlight and photosynthesis, to make food.”

“Yes, that’s…correct. You know, um, some science. That can’t be accurate; oh, you probably didn’t study anything else. I’ve got it—math! What’s a polynomial, primal?”

Kaitlin stared at Tolgor in disbelief, before she burst out laughing. “Guys, I explained quite thoroughly what a pulsar and an autotroph are. I know what a polynomial is; I made it through middle school algebra just fine as a child. Maybe ask me what 2+2 is next?”

• What’s 2+2?

“Yes, very funny. I see a sense of humor transcends planets,” Kaitlin snorted. “Can I tell a joke? It’s for a friend.”

Tolgor made a “Go Ahead” gesture. “The chat won’t forgive me if they miss this.”

“It’s a human style joke. Ahem. A lousy cheat, an unhygienic influencer, and an alien walk into a bar. The bartender says, ‘Hello, Craun Chelton.’”

“Hey!” I protested. “What did I do?”

“What did you not do?” Snelga grumbled.

The chat, unfortunately, was lapping up the jab toward me.

• “laughing my feathers off!”
• “even the primals hate craun for tampering with them ~X~”
• “yeah shes right craun is a shitty cheater like actual animals knew immediately”
• “Kaitlin is way smarter than an animal”
• “pleaselikethis isntstaged”
• “•|• nothing is real. Space your words”
• “nothatsan extrakeystroke”
• “but you space them every 3?”
• “maybeIdo ormaybenotgotyou.”
• “Craun is a basement-dwelling asshole who’s basically a poacher *,•,*”
• “Yeah, that cute primal knows why she wound up here. This whole mess is Craun’s fault for making the animals attack on his behalf.”

“That was friendly banter. I adore Craun and that’s why I’m teasing him,” Kaitlin piped up. “There’s no need to be mean-spirited over a refugee who’s suffered an enormous, terrible loss with no help from anyone. I empathize with his desperation and what he’s been through, and I think it’s unkind to judge him for that. The Saphnos deserve better.”

Tolgor cleared his throat, straightening his feathers. “As do you, Kaitlin. Would you like to tell the chat about your sickness?”

“There’s not much to tell. I’m sick with a disease called ALS, which causes motor neurons to rapidly degenerate. I am slowly losing control of my body…right now, it’s shaking and weakness, but eventually I’ll be paralyzed and unable to speak. Before that, I’ll be unable to do basic, daily things for myself. It’s a terminal prognosis. Once I lose the…ability to breathe, that’s what will likely cause my ultimate death. My time with you is…short.”

• “awww…”
• “poor primal!”
• “no, that’s so sad *,•,*”
• “I actually liked her.”
• “But she’s so cute. She’s a talking science primal who got taken away from her home just to suffer more!”
• “I feel so bad for Kaitlin.”
• “And you all were making fun of the dying human! I told you to be nice to her.”
• “look how she just accepts it instead of lashing out.”
• “If she’s sick, maybe she’s too tired to be angry.”
• “So if we cure her, she’ll scream and shout more?”
• “Yeah PrimalsAreCool, it seems more likely.”
• “Take my wallet!”

Tolgor struck a sympathetic expression. “You have my condolences, Kaitlin. The good news is there are two things those of you in the chat can do! The veterinarian housing this primal hopes to genetically engineer away this terrible disease, but she’ll need your support. You can donate to the fundraiser linked for researching a cure. You can also share this video, with Kaitlin talking and explaining her story, with the world.”

“Any help would be very much appreciated,” Kaitlin said, a sad look on her face. “My dream was to talk to aliens. Humans are the first primals to have a civilization, and I’d like to believe our civilizations can be friends. I wish I had more time to spend with you, but if you can’t help me, I can only beg you to give my people an honest chance.”

“You’re…very well-spoken, especially for what you are. Our time is up, and I know you need to rest because of your sickness. Any last words for our viewers, before I let you go?”

Kaitlin beamed, waving at the camera. “Please, take care of yourselves! I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day, and I’ll see you again soon.”

Snelga and I breathed a sigh of relief as the NASA researcher exchanged pleasantries with Tolgor, then saw herself back out of the studio. Sort-of-Science and their viewers had tried to rile Kaitlin up and paint her as stupid, but she’d risen above it; I shouldn’t have doubted that a mind as brilliant as hers could navigate this scenario. All in all, I hoped that this would raise awareness for both her condition and how intelligent humans were. 

A public outreach campaign could be powerful to change Council citizens’ hearts and minds.

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Ana's chin lifted up. It was a look that was vaguely reminiscent of something the princeling would’ve done. Which didn't put Liam in the best of moods.

Alistair made a sort of chuffing noise coupled with a low growl. Low enough that only Liam could really hear it, but it sounded like maybe the garzeth was worried about something.

"I've decided that I forgive you, Liam human," Ana said.

"You forgive me?" he asked, blinking in surprise.

Of all the things he expected her to say, that was close to the bottom of the list. Then again, she'd said many things that had surprised him simply because she seemed to look at the world from the top of her nose.

It was enough to make him think she wasn't lying. That she really was a High Princess of the Demon Realms, as ridiculous and impossible as that seemed.

"You've decided to forgive me," he said again, pointing at her and then pointing back to his own chest.

He thought he heard something off in the distance. A cry that sounded loud and long for a moment, and then it was over. He looked around the woods. Not exactly nervously, but he worried about things that didn't sound like anything he'd ever heard in the Felwood before. He’d heard plenty of scary things over those years.

They were far enough from the Scar that he probably didn't have to worry about demons out here. Though as he turned to Ana, he amended that he probably didn't have to worry about certain demons out here. There was definitely a demon who was making herself a problem right now, after all.

"Yes, I forgive you," she said with a sniff. "You abandoned me in these woods, but that's understandable. It is quite terrifying out here, isn't it?"

She looked around the woods, and then she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her hands up and down.

Liam stared at her for a long moment. He found himself lost in the image of her looking vulnerable, even if it was only for a moment. It showed Ana the person rather than Ana the insufferable princess. It was a little bit of the Ana he'd seen when they were together out in the Scar, or maybe in the Felwood.

But then the spell was over. She turned her attention back to him, and once more, she seemed more annoyed than anything.

"So where are we going?" she asked.

Liam regarded her for another long moment, and then he shook his head.

"Does that work often?" he asked, his voice quiet. He was genuinely curious.

She blinked, obviously surprised.

"Does what work?" she asked.

"You coming along and acting like somebody is going to do what you want them to do. Does that work often?"

"I'm not coming along and assuming somebody is going to do what I want them to do," she said, and she looked genuinely perplexed by what he was saying. "If I give an order, then somebody is naturally going to do it."

"Oh, are they?" Liam said.

"Of course. At least anybody from the demon lands who knows what's good for them will do what I tell them to do. I am a..."

"...High Princess of the Demon Realms. Yes, I know," Liam said, the thin hint of a smile coming to his face. "You might have mentioned that once. Or twice."

"Well, it's true," she said. She turned to Alistair. "Could you please do me a favor and bite his head off?"

They both stared at her. Alistair looked at Liam and then back to her, and his eyes blinked. There was a faint glow that came to them for a moment.

"You know that's not going to do any good," Liam said, heaving another sigh.

"I don't know that," she said. "Maybe it was a mistake when it didn’t work the first time around. Besides, he will follow my orders because he is a subject of the demon realms."

There was another quiet pause. Liam crossed his arms and stared at her. Alistair did the same thing before clearing his throat.

"Well, this is rather awkward," he started. “But..."

"You don't need to feel bad about anything, Alistair," Liam said, turning to the garzeth and favoring him with a smile.

"I don’t?”

"No, you don't," Liam said, turning his attention back to Ana. "I don't know who you might be out in the demon realms, and I don't know if you aren't paying attention, but we aren't exactly in the demon realms right now. So you can't order people around."

"I can order around whomever I please," she said.

"Then let me amend that a touch," Liam said. "You can try and order us around, but we're not going to listen. Right, Alistair?"

Liam turned back to the garzeth. He looked deeply uncomfortable. Like he was trying to shrink in on himself despite his considerable mass. Like he’d rather be anywhere but where he stood in that moment on all sixes.

"Yes, well. I suppose Liam does have a point," Alistair said. “And I am quite interested in learning more about him and exactly what is going on here. So no. I'm not going to try to harm him. I don't think I could even if I wanted to."

Another one of those silences spread between them. This time, it didn't last long before Ana exploded. Her eyes glowed bright enough that it lit up the trees all around them. Bright enough that Liam took a step back without thinking about what he was doing.

"Of course I know you're not going to harm him!” she said, throwing her hands up. "What do you think I am? I don't want to hurt him. I was just trying to prove a point."

"By asking a creature with a massive mouth full of sharp teeth to bite my head off?" Liam asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes," she said. "I wanted to show you how obedient all demons are to their royalty."

"Clearly you have a few things to learn about how the world works down on the ground,” Liam said.

"I do not," she said, crossing her arms and looking away.

Liam stared at her for another moment, and then he chuckled and shook his head.

"Are you ready to go, Alistair?"

"I am," the garzeth said after only a moment's hesitation.

And then they turned and started walking through the woods again. There was enough moonslight from up above for Liam to see by, and so they made pretty good progress. They were only a few layers of trees into the woods when he heard Ana calling out again.

"Wait! Where are you going? What are you doing? You were supposed to take me with you!”

"So how long do you think this is going to continue on?" Alistair asked.

"Her following us through the woods?" Liam asked. "I'm not sure. Why? Are you wanting to abandon her?"

"I don't know that it would be a good idea to abandon her in these woods," Alistair said. "There are Inquisitors out there searching for her, after all."

"That's true," Liam said. “But I think it's going to take them a little while to recover from what we did to them."

"I wouldn't be so certain about that," Alistair said. "You heard that noise?"

"I did," Liam said. “But I'm not sure what that was."

"That's ominous," Alistair said.

"It could just be something in this part of the forest," Liam said. Though he didn't believe that even for a moment. Still. He wanted to make Alistair feel better, for all that it was ridiculous that he was trying to make a monstrosity like the garzeth feel better about anything.

"This far from the Scar?" Alistair said. "We've been on a journey of a day, and it was a journey on horseback at that."

"You were able to make the trip following them,” Liam said.

"I was, but I'm not on two legs like you. I think that cry was something the Inquisitors were doing to try and get someone’s attention. I’m sure they’ll be able to have help out here sooner rather than later. We should assume so, at least.”

"Wonderful," Liam muttered, looking around. He half expected an Inquisitor to come out of the darkness around them at any moment. If there was only one of them then he liked his chances, but he didn’t think it would only be one of them.

"I told you it would be a better idea to just kill them and be done with it," Albert said.

"How did I know that was coming?" Liam said, looking down at the cat with a smile. He was moving along the forest floor quietly enough, though Liam could see a faint glow from those rune markings on his fur. Almost as though he was wearing some sort of wizard robes. Liam wondered how much those markings matched up with the markings on whatever robe he'd been wearing when he was stabbed in the back.

"What are you doing, Liam?" Ana called out in the darkness.

"She's going to keep following us," Alistair said.

"Oh, I fully expect her to,” Liam said.

“Wait. You almost sound like you want her to follow,” Alistair said.

"I mean, I don't want anything bad to happen to her, right? I figure her staying nearby means we can keep an eye on her, but I do want her to know she's not going to be able to push me around like I'm her subject in the demon lands."

"I'm not sure how much she can order people around in the demon lands anyway," Alistair said.

"What are you talking about? She's a high princess," Liam said.

"Well, she might be a high princess, but that doesn't mean she's able to order people around. There are gradations of royalty."

"That's even a thing in human realms,” Albert said. "Like that little puffed-up popinjay who was causing you so much trouble back at your cottage would step lightly around the baron simply because he's a little older, even if he technically outranks him, correct?

"I suppose," Liam said.

"And a high princess who is on the younger side and untested, who doesn't have many Ascensions on her, isn't the kind of person who could go ordering around somebody who has a little more experience, or who maybe has an influential position in the kingdom."

"I suppose that makes sense," Liam said. "Like how there are technically servants who might outrank the cook, but gods help them if they decide to try and cross her."

"I suppose it might be something like that," Albert said.

"The head butler certainly knows to watch his step around her. She made it clear when she made him eat nothing but broth with a little bit of broccoli tossed into it for a week after he tried to get her to do something or other she didn’t want to do. I wasn't privy to the specifics. I just heard the stories whispered about it afterwards."

“In that case, I suppose it would be precisely like that," Albert said.

"But I'm sure there are plenty of servants wherever she grew up that she was able to order around without any trouble,” Alistair said.

"Interesting," Liam said, wondering at this education about the intricacies of royalty in demon lands.

They continued on in silence after that for a little while. Liam looked up to make sure they were following the Hunter from time to time. He wasn't sure about the twists and turns of the road, but he had a vague idea of the path it took because he'd spent time looking at the maps in Baron Riven's library. The same as he'd spent plenty of time sitting and reading books about what the wider world was like.

Though honestly, he'd never had a desire beyond being able to go out into the woods and enjoy himself. Going out into the world seemed to mean being tied down by obligation, and he wasn't certain he wanted that for himself.

"Liam, what are you doing?" Ana said from the darkness behind them. "I can hear you talking with them."

He looked at Alistair and then to Albert. "Are all royalty this difficult?"

"I don't know that I have any direct experience with them," Alistair said. "Like I truly don't know if I have any experience with them. The memory isn't there."

"I'm sorry," Liam said, reaching out and patting one of his massive shoulders as they moved through the woods.

"It's okay," Alistair said. "I seem to be regaining some of my memories as I talk to you, so I will continue to talk to you in the hopes it reveals more.”

"In my experience, a lot of human nobles are like that, yes," Albert said.

"Then why do people follow them?" Liam asked.

"You'd best be careful about that," Albert said.

"Why?" Liam asked.

"Because that's the kind of dangerous thinking and talk that could get you hauled in front of the Inquisition for a bit of questioning if you aren't careful."

Liam looked down at the cat. The cat looked up at him. His eyes caught some bit of light and glowed in the darkness. His tail swished just so.

They both started laughing at the same time. Meanwhile, Alistair looked between the two of them like he wasn't sure what to make of them.

"There's something to be said about being born into an entrenched power structure," Albert said in a low voice that seemed almost like a growl. "There are still some places in the kingdom where you can get by on merit, but it's difficult. Even there, you have an uphill fight if you're starting from the life of a commoner. And if you're born too poor for even that much? Well, there's a reason why there are so many people who are left destitute, even in human lands."

"And I suppose you wanted to do something about that," Liam said with a snort. "The great conquering sorcerer who brought the demon world into conjunction with ours and accidentally smashed them together."

"I did," Albert said quietly, his voice so soft that Liam almost couldn't hear it. "I did, but clearly I've made a mess of it."

Liam looked down at the cat. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he stopped. He saw two glowing eyes suddenly appear in the dark woods in front of them between the trees. He sighed.

"Ana, I've already told you. If you're going to be ordering me around, then I don't want you near us."

"Well, isn't that interesting?" a silky smooth voice that was far deeper than Ana's could ever hope to be said.

The demon stepped forward. He had longer horns than Ana, and a muscular yet still lithe frame. He looked between Alistair, Liam, and Albert with a look that was somehow both a smile and a frown at the same time.

"I would expect anybody to understand the wisdom of doing whatever a High Princess of the Demon Realms says," the man said, putting his hand on the pommel of a sword at his side as more glowing eyes appeared in the woods behind him. "Now. Where is she? I know someone who is very interested in finding out exactly where the princess has disappeared to."

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“Clever aliens.”

And very much familiar. It was almost disappointing.

Karveth stared up at her from behind the edge of the conference table. As she leaned back in her own chair, from Julia’s angle, only his eyes, ears, and the top half of his furious little snout were visible. That somehow made the glare even more severe.

“Well?” he demanded. “What is it, primitive? Make an offer better than our baseline now!”

“Yeah!” Grobret added, popping up beside him like a second angry puppet. “Make an offer!”

“Very clever,” she repeated. “But… we did expect some shenanigans. And we have made some preparations.”

She touched her datapad. The lights in the conference room dimmed automatically. A projector embedded in the center of the table came alive with a soft whine, filling the white canvas at the front of the room with an image of a darker space.

A picture of one of the machines on the factory floor, with the other machines in the room out of view.

Karveth stood up on his chair to see better. Grobret copied him half a second later. Shachos leaned forward, the hues on his face already shifting towards nervous yellow. Glonk drifted to the front of his tank, his nose pressing lightly against the glass.

Julia let the image hang there for a moment as the aliens stared.

“We are prepared to sabotage and destroy the Dustballium machine,” she said. “Look at the control levers. If our airspace is breached, we have fashioned a device that will pour liquid Dustballium into the controls and turn it solid. Once that is complete, the machine is rendered inert. Then, we’ll glue the chamber doors shut with Dustballium and cause a cave-in with a nuclear charge.”

The room was quiet enough for her to hear the projector hum.

Shachos’s face oscillated between yellow and blue. “Please, Julia, we’ve heard this joke enough times. Julia, your marine—Marcus—has already threatened us with that. As I mentioned to him, we have ways of undoing that. We have more advanced technology than you. We can dig the site out and cut through the door. Then, we can remove the extra Dustballium from the machine controls, and we will be able to operate it again. Either that, or we can reverse engineer the machine. Yes, either way we can. Combined, the three of us—”

“The four of us!” Grobret objected, catching their attention with a raised paw.

The Vorshnik fleet master ignored him. “The three of us combined have more than enough technology to do that. Yes, we do.”

“Yes, Marcus did mention something about that to me.” Julia smiled thinly. “But… he also mentioned, you let slip it’s a process that will take a significant amount of time. Not just a few years. At least decades, possibly centuries.”

A sliver of blue crept onto Shachos’s confident scalp before it dissipated.

Ah, so you know exactly where this is going.

“Yes. Yes, that is true,” Shachos conceded after a moment. He gave the other two delegations a quick look, then steadied himself. “It will take long. But we are patient. And if you do the math on how much this is worth for our three species, it will work out for us. Yes, it will.”

Yes, and we are all self-interested, rational beings who act in a logical manner, based solely on the information available to us at the time.

“Hm… I’m sure it will,” she said, in a tone she knew the Vorshnik could fully understand. “So… I’m just curious. And I know things are real friendly between the three of you. After you’ve cut the door open and gotten to the machine, which of your species will be responsible for dissecting it, learning its secrets? In the decades and centuries before you produce a copy? And for that matter, which one of you is going to be responsible for cutting the door open in the first place?”

From the shifting colors on his face, it was apparent Shachos got it.

The Sonckle did not. The alien sea turtle swam a little circle in his aquarium.

Dloooob fweeeep gweeeep. “We will, of course. Everyone knows that the Sonckles have the most advanced technology and the most experience with rare Precursor artifacts. Our historical research institutions are by far the most prestigious in this region of the galaxy, and—”

“That is not true. Not true at all!” Shachos protested, spreading all four of his limbs. “That is only the case in school rankings and indices fabricated by your people! The machine will remain here on… Dustball. Here on Dustball. Not to be removed from our territory. Our territory! In the event the controls are sabotaged, our scientists will promptly move in and reverse engineer the controls. Yes, they will.”

From her experience, the thing about this little trap was that even if its victims knew they were in it…

“Anyone but the clowns! Anyone but the clowns!” Karveth banged his clenched paw on the table in rhythm with his words, still aiming his death stare at Shachos.

“Anyone but the clowns!” Grobret agreed.

How very human.

Julia grinned at Karveth and his second in turn. “Ah, I see. And of course, to make sure that this agreement of yours holds for… a century or two, the Karnolians will be stationing over Dustball…”

“A faction fleet to guarantee its security!” Karveth said.

“A big one, with lots of ships!”

“No!” Shachos’s face was all blue. “There can be no alien fleets in Vorshnik territory without our approval. Not without our approval. And especially not Karnolian ships. They break down all the time, and they can spread their debris all over our transport orbits. Yes, our orbits.”

Karveth slapped the table. “A faction fleet, at least!”

Julia said with a smooth and serene expression, “Alright, so figure that one out amongst yourselves, preferably before you decide to kill us all. And make sure you include some ironclad guarantees so that no one decides to break your agreement in all that time you’ll need.”

“Maybe even two faction fleets!”

Julia tilted her head. “Another thing… since we’re on the topic of reverse engineering: Shachos, did your scientists figure out what exactly was in those custom mixes we gave you?”

Karveth stopped banging the table. One paw stayed suspended in the air. He turned to look between Julia and Shachos. “Wait. Custom mixes? What are you talking about? What custom mixes? Custom mixes of what?!”

Seeing that, Grobret turned to Shachos as well. “You’re hiding something from us, Shachos?”

Julia opened her eyes as wide as she could in mock surprise. Of course, Shachos would know what she was doing, but she was less sure about the other species. She doubted if it would matter anyway. “Oh. Oh, no. I’m sorry. You didn’t get to tell your new friends about those custom mixes yet, Shachos?”

Glonk swept aside a patch of nutrient flakes and dirty liquid from his vision as he looked down on the table. He jabbed with one of his flippers.

Pweeeeeeeeeeeeb. “Shachos? What is the primitive talking about?! What is this talk of custom mixes?”

Shachos was a yellowish-green color that resembled vomit. “We—we—”

Julia put her right hand to her chest lightly. “Oh, Shachos, I’m sorry. I guess… I just assumed… you told everyone that you already confiscated a whole batch of five hundred kilograms’ worth of our liquid Dustballium when you made that shakedown pact with them,” Julia said in her best “I totally did not expect this” voice. “Or was it maybe more? I don’t remember exactly how much—”

“We—we—” Shachos sputtered.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Karveth stomped heavily, shaking the thin floor of the hab. “You… what?!”

Shachos hurried to explain, “There were still some delicious vegetables in that compartment! Delicious vegetables! It wasn’t the full five hundred kilograms. Not at all. Most of it was—”

Technically, he was right. Most of the illicit cargo was unrelated samples from the chamber; the pure Dustballium probably only came up to a few dozen kilos. Less than a hundred, Julia estimated. She didn’t think to have Dr. Clement measure it all before the geologist snuck them in with the potatoes.

Judging by her limited knowledge of alien body language, she suspected they wouldn’t have cared anyway.

Shloooob shloooob meeeep. For good measure, Glonk angrily banged twice on his thick aquarium glass with his flippers. “Five hundred kilograms of Precursor Metal?! Five hundred?! Five hundred?! Shachos! You lied to us!”

Okay, how much did the diplomatic translator censor out of that rant?

“I did not lie. We do not lie. It is not a big deal—I simply forgot to mention some barely relevant context. That is not the same, not the same at all. No, I did not lie.”

“Liar! Liar! Liar!” Karveth shouted with a quivering claw.

Julia turned to Grobret expectantly, just in time for his sharp claws to come out in accusation as well. “Lies from the clown! War it is! War it is!”

Shachos apparently didn’t care at all what the Karnolians thought of him, but the Sonckle’s opinion mattered, at least a little. He turned to the aquarium to explain to the alien turtle, “Glonk, I promise! I promise it wasn’t the full five hundred kilograms. She is completely exaggerating. Totally exaggerating. The actual amount of—”

Julia didn’t let him finish his sentences, and Shachos’s natural inability to get to the point was really working against him here. “Ah! I see! Now, I see why you agreed to that deal, Fleet Master Shachos. While there’s this decades-long effort to reverse engineer the sabotaged machine, the Vorshniks will have access to… as I understand it, the largest find of both solid and liquid Dustballium in known galactic history.”

“I did not mean to—”

“How much did you say it was? Several times more than everything that’s been found so far?” She nodded sagely as she shot an exaggerated wink at him. “Something along those lines. With that, your civilization may advance decades, maybe centuries, in just a few years. And by the time the door is cut open, you’d be far ahead of the rest of them technologically. Your species would be perfectly positioned to use the product of those machines as the reverse engineering efforts start to bear fruit in a few decades. That is indeed an excellent plan. If I were in your shoes, I would do the exact same. Very clever—”

“Deal’s off with the unreliable clown! No deal!” Karveth climbed into his chair and stomped. “They’ve betrayed us all! The lies end today! War it is!”

“War it is! War it is!” Grobret added, though Julia could swear he looked less angry and more… excited.

Glonk swam over to face Julia. He tapped twice on his glass, almost politely.

Greeeeeng shreeeep vlooooom. “Humans, we have a revised understanding of the situation. We would be willing to accept a significantly lower amount in an exclusive deal. We will deploy our warships to defend your colony from the unscrupulous Vorshniks through a long-range jump gate. As you can see, they are as untrustworthy as they are unserious—”

The sliver of blue on Shachos’s face blossomed and deepened. “Glonk, you can’t do that! This system is well within our territory. Yes, it is! Your armed warships are not allowed to enter Dustball without our permission. That is a breach of our treaties—”

“We’d like to cut out the clowns too!” Karveth insisted. He banged a fist on the table repeatedly and gestured between himself and Glonk’s water tank with the other.

Grobret made sure he was not excluded. “Just the three of us. Us serious peoples!”

Julia brightened up with a deeper smile. “Sure, Karveth and Glonk and—I mean, representatives of the Karnolian and Sonckle species. Thank you for your interest. We have a number in mind. An upper-bound of half a ton in formed Dustballium per year, with your provided molds. Which as I understand it, will still be an immense boon for your industries and your research. Would you two species like to split the quota allotment fifty-fifty?”

Pleeeeeeeeeb. “No, if there’s going to be a hard limit, we’d rather pursue a deal without the Karnolians at all.”

Thought so. Didn’t even need to think about it, huh?

She feigned a frown, hoping their translators would catch it. “C’mon, Glonk. I can see Karveth and you are good friends, and I wouldn’t want something like this to come between you two. Maybe another ratio? Sixty-forty? I’ve heard Shachos say your technology is far superior to the Karnolians, but that’s just his perspective. What do you think?”

Gloooom fweeeeeep bloooop. “Shachos is dishonest, as he has just proven to us all, but on this matter, he is actually correct. You don’t need the Karnolians at all. They are barely two hundred years ahead of your species on the standardized technology curve we use to measure civilizational development, and you are evidently developing much faster than they are. They have nothing. We can provide everything Karveth claims to have and far more. The complications of his quarrelsome species would not be necessary in our deal.”

“Aww, Glonk, I’m sure all species have something wonderful to contribute to the galaxy, like their beautiful art and wonderful culture, and we’ll work out a fair exchange rate—”

The discount Ewok didn’t hear her at all.

“You what?!” Karveth exclaimed as he turned to point a claw angrily at the water tank. “I knew I couldn’t trust you backstabbing mud-drinkers! Our partnership ends today! War it is!”

“War it is! War it is!”

To his credit, Shachos seemed far less upset by the breakdown in decorum, with his constant flashing of red, orange, and yellow. He chimed in. “Julia, we are willing to go below the prior baseline too. We will take a lower amount than the greedy Sonckles, and we’ll match their technology transfer. Any technology they offer, we can match. Yes, we will match them. You can keep any molds we give you for research, and we’ll provide all schematics in two versions. Yes, all our schematics come in two versions, the domestic blueprints with all the funny jokes and the export variants without. Your people can have both, which I know your people will appreciate. And for the items we also sell to Karnolians and Sonckles, we will also include the explanations for the jokes for their humorless—”

Shreeeep gluuuub gluuuub. “Human, don’t be fooled by the bottom-feeder’s attempts at distraction. His species crawled out of the seafloor of sentience no more than a hundred thousand years ago. Their technology is worth less than landcrawler sewage! Ours is by far superior, by any metric you would care—”

Karveth had climbed onto the table. He beckoned eagerly at Julia. “We have the best weapons and ships, and we have the most variety! I’ll show you, primitive! I’ll show you! You can come with me to a live-fire test!”

“Come with us! We’ve got the best!”

Shachos turned bright red briefly as he chortled. “Ahahahah! If you want to see how terrible Karnolian weapons are, you don’t need to go to one of their rigged demonstrations. Not at all! Just go watch them try and kill each other in the Garshorli sector; we have obtained footage, it’s pathetic. Very pathetic. Extremely—”

“Your unserious people don’t even know what an honorable battle is. When is the last time you were in battle, Fleet Master Shachos? Your ignorance ends today! War it is!”

“War it is! War it is!”

In her mind’s eye, Julia saw a storage bunker full of munitions like a powder keg waiting to be lit. All it needed was a little more fuel…

“Folks, folks.” She lifted both hands. “I know we’re all very excited to get started on this comprehensive negotiation, but let’s take the temperature in this room down just a notch. We’ll start discussing the rules and framework around the bidding process soon. I just wanted to mention one more thing. Just one more thing before we get started. It’s not a main item, just a little… side request about the machines in question.”

That got them to quiet down.

Karveth stopped mid-stomp. Grobret froze with one claw in the air. Glonk stopped swimming in circles. Shachos even shut up.

Julia looked at the image of the machine. Then she looked back at them.

“There are actually two machines in the chamber,” she lied.

No need to tell the aliens how many actual backups she had.

“One of them appears to be intact but has not responded to commands. We plan to dissect and study it, for scientific purposes. We’d like to request technical assistance from one of your scientific communities in that project. Just a small scientific team. Now. Since we’re all good friends here, which of your species has the most experience with advanced metallurgic—”

Dreeeeeeeeep cheeeeeep.

“No, we do! We do!”

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Previous

Author's note: So I came across Coyote_Havoc's Among the Stars a while ago, and immediately had an idea for a continuation set in the same universe. I asked for and received permission to post it, so now that I've sufficiently obsessed over trying to get the formatting right, it's time to do that! If I didn't get the formatting right, I sincerely apologize, technology is not my strong suit.

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“All vessels, all vessels, all vessels, this is Terra Command speaking. Please respond in sequence, over.” I promptly hit my head on the communications array in my desperation to jump up from where I had been working on it what felt like all day.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” The ship's cat hissed, running off down the hall. Whoops, I must have scared him. I went to prep the transmitter, waiting my turn. Toledo class vessels were near the end, so I had time. I listened to Mother Terra check in on each of her children, trying not to hyperventilate. We’d gone down about a year ago, and I’d spent the last nine months on my own in a near-ruined ship, with just me and the cat, Max. 

“UTS Picard, Enterprise Class, Captain David Ross reporting, all quiet here by Andromeda, mother.” Hang on. They’d skipped the Toledo classes.  I swallowed down another lump of panic. I’d check in after the call to the stars. Mother Terra remembers and loves all her children, that’s what we’re taught. Breathe, Abby. Wait until after the call to the stars. Mother Terra started calling out to her lost children, in chronological order, as per protocol, and then-

“UTS Houlihan, Toledo Class light cruiser. Michael Hunnicutt commanding, 260 souls aboard. 57 years among the stars.” What? No. How-? I fumbled for the receiver. 

“UTS Houlihan, Toledo Class here, or what’s left of her anyway. E-Ensign Abigail Reese reporting. Not sure where I am, Mother, but we went down somewhere near Cassiopeia. 1 survivor, ‘less you count the cat. Mother, confirm- you said /57 years/ among the stars?” Temporal anomaly. Had to be. There was no other explanation for it. The other end was silent for far too long. “Mother Terra?” The communications crackled back to life, the voice on the other end wobbling somewhat.

“Ensign Reese, please confirm vessel code.” Aw, hell. I knew that was around here somewhat. I started shuffling the papers around. 

“Hang on, I don’t have it memorized, and Captain Hunnicutt’s papers aren’t exactly organized. And if you’re about to question why I don’t know it, ask yourself why an engineering apprentice her first year out of the Academy would need to know the vessel code.” Mother Terra sounded almost amused.

“You’re from the South.” Oh, had my accent come out? I wondered why.

“Heart o’ Louisiana, ma’am. Born ‘n raised. Vessel code, vessel code… ha! Okay, here it is: Echo 1 9 6 3 8 Bravo Alpha Hotel 4 0 7.” A moment of quiet as Mother Terra, presumably, typed our vessel code into her database. 

"Alright, Ensign Reese. Hold on just a moment, I need to confirm something." I swallowed.

"Don't go! Please. I've been trying to get this thing up and running for the past nine months. Er, at least I thought it was nine months. I- I don't know if I can stand the silence again." Mother Terra took a slow, deep breath, probably encouraging me to do the same, which I did. I had wondered why her voice sounded different from our usual Mother. Had to be because our previous Mother was no longer working at Terra Command.

"Ensign Reese-"

"-Abigail. Please. If you have to insist on formality, okay, but I at least have to ask you to call me Abigail. Or Abby." I heard my voice crack on the last word. "Please?"

"Alright. Abigail. Abigail, I don't have a protocol for this. I need to check with a supervisor. I understand your concern, though, and I think I still have the programs for some old hold music, from the 20th century. Would you be alright with that?" I nodded, then remembered she couldn't see me.

"Okay. That'll work. I just want to make sure I don't lose you again."

"Of course. I understand. Give me just a moment, Abigail." Terra United's theme came piping across the speakers, and I let myself relax. Mother Terra loves and protects all of her children. I'd be alright. I settled for fiddling with navigation again, trying to see if there was anything I could do. There wasn't, but it made me feel better to have something to do. After a few minutes, Mother Terra came back on. 

"Alright, Abigail. You've caused quite a stir over here. I'm going to ask you a lot of questions, and I may need to put you on hold here and there while we discuss. I'll make sure to keep the music, though, as much as I can. Do you understand?" I took another deep breath.

"Yes and no. I understand well enough, at least. Go for it." 

"Alright then. I need to ask you for a vessel report. System functions, and the like. What do you have, what are you worried about, that sort of thing?"

"We have life support, general power, and less than a quarter of our usual thrusters. Oh, and communications, now. That's about it. We're pretty much dead in the water; between repairs I've just been trying to keep us from knocking into the asteroids around us. Our light drives are shot to hell, navigation is dead, I wouldn't even know where to begin on weapons systems. I think our shields are okay, but that wasn't my field. I just got communications back up after nine months of trying, and that's held together with duct tape and prayers, basically." I sighed, running through the rest of the ship in my head. "I think that's about it. We have food and water, and hygiene isn't a problem, it's just me, the cat, and the cremated remains of the rest of the crew. For nine months." I'd cremated them early on, knowing I needed to prevent them from decaying, and figuring that it would be easier to get urns off the ship than bodies. Each urn was labeled with name and position, and all officers had their dog tags fastened around it. I'd also grouped families together, in the hopes that they would appreciate it more. Why I thought ghosts needed to feel appreciated, I wasn't sure, but that was what they got. Hushed voices on the other end, then:

"And what can you tell me about the incident? What happened to you guys out there?" I took another breath, remembering the chaos when my entire life turned upside down. 

"We were supposed to be on a scouting mission, planning out a route for a diplomatic vessel heading to the Perseus system. I was in Engineering, helping Porter with routine maintenance. Grunt work, you know? I'm the most junior UTN on the ship. Er, well, I was. Now I guess I'm the most senior. All of a sudden, the ship rocks, like in the battle simulations at the Academy. The captain's voice comes on over the PA, telling us we've hit some sort of anomaly and everybody needs to brace themselves. I think our pilot tried to get us out, but by then the anomaly had already drawn us in. I couldn't tell you the nature of the anomaly, although I think there should be some reports in the science wing. All I know is that for three months, Hot Lips tried to tear herself apart." I closed my eyes, and Mother Terra's curious voice cut through my thoughts.

"Hot Lips?" I chuckled.

"That's what we call the ship. She's named for Margaret Houlihan, a character in an old 20th century satirical military production. That character was nicknamed Hot Lips. It's weird, right until you get used to it. Anyways, after about 3 months, I think the anomaly decided it had had enough of us, seeing as there was just me left, and spat us out. We've been drifting ever since. I don't even know if we're still on course, because my nav is shot." 

"You, and the cat." I managed a small grin.

"And the cat. He ran off when we heard you call. I think I startled him." I leaned against one of the working bulkheads. "You able to get a lock on us yet, Mother Terra?" More hushed voices.

"Hold on just a second Abigail." She put me back on hold, and I paced the bridge while the music played. I clung to each note like a life raft. I hadn't been forgotten. They were working on a solution to get me home. 

"Ensign Reese?" This was a different voice, a man. This was not Mother Terra. I snapped to attention.

"Yes, sir." A light chuckle. 

"This is Admiral Hammond. You've caused quite a stir over here. You say it's only been a year for you since losing contact with us?" I sighed.

"Yes, sir. My best guess is some sort of time dilation. Unless you're aware of the anomaly from more successful ships, I do have the coordinates of where we went down."

"No need, Ensign. Terra Command sent vessels to your position when we first lost contact with you. They didn't find anything." Dammit. The Admiral continued. "We've got your position though, and we have a ship nearby. The Makah will meet up with you in a few days to bring you home." I sighed in relief, slumping back against the bulkhead.

"Thank God." A low chuckle. 

"I'll put Mother Terra back on so the two of you can finish hashing out exact details. But you just hang tight, Ensign. Help is on the way." 

"Thank you, sir," I murmured.

"Of course. We'll see you in a few weeks. Hammond out." Mother Terra's voice came back on, hushed.

"I've never seen him take an interest in a ship like that before. But, then again, we haven't had a ship come back from the stars after so long before, either." I heard her take a breath before continuing. "This says the Houlihan had Class I thrusters and generation 3 light drives?" Finally, questions I could answer. 

"Yes, ma'am. Considering we were usually a scout vessel for diplomatic ships, we tended to get the first upgrades when available, so we were one of the first ones to get the gen 3's. The Class I thrusters are a standard for Toledo class vessels. That was something I'd wanted to ask, anyways. I didn't hear any Toledo classes at check-in. Did something happen?" Mother Terra sighed.

"All Toledo Class vessels have either been decommissioned or are among the stars. I believe the last one retired 20 years ago." I whistled.

"So I'm going to be seen as a relic. Wonderful." Mother Terra chuckled lightly.

"Pretty much. I do have a note from Command that they would like the ship returned, so the Makah is probably going to have to tow you home. They are going to have you stay on the Houlihan-"

"-so it stays manned, I understand. I don't know how Max will respond to strangers, anyway. He always took a little bit to get warmed up to new people, and that was before his home tried to kill him." There was a smile in her voice as she continued.

"Right, but they'll probably station one of their own with you, just so you aren't alone. I'll send a note to them to make sure that person is good with cats." I smiled softly.

"Good. And, um, could you try and get them not to outrank me? I'd rather be the one to check in with you nightly." 

"Of course, Abigail. I'll make a note of that." The clicking finished. "All entered. I have to hop off now, but you should be able to tune in to our usual frequencies, and I'll speak to you tomorrow, alright?"

"Alright. Thank you, Mother Terra. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Abigail." Mother Terra disappeared, and I fought the flash of panic that I was alone again. Taking her suggestion, I tuned in to Terran radio frequencies. Time to catch up on what I'd missed, or at least have background sounds while I cleaned up. If we were having company, we needed to at least look the part. 

3 days later, short-range scanners picked up another vessel. I gave them directions to board, and jogged down to the shuttle bay to let them in. Max was lounging on the controls, and I carefully removed him from the shuttle bay and control areas, shutting and sealing the door behind me. Max was not thrilled about this, and made his displeasure known.

"I know, Max, but I'm busy. We're finally going home, and I can't have you running off our guests. I'll let you back in once things are settled." With that, I went back to the controls, ignoring the yowling from the other side of the door. It took me a minute to get the shuttle bay opened, but once I did, a fancy looking shuttle set itself down in the remainder of the bay. The young man that stepped out looked at the ship and winced. 

"I can't tell what's original condition and what's wreckage," he murmured into his comms. I cleared my throat. 

"I heard that. She's a good ship, and it's not her fault the anomaly thought she'd make a good snack. You let her be." He chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. 

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I'm sure she was a grand old ship before she got snatched up." He came down the gangplank, but I was already circling his shuttle. "Um." 

"She's a beauty," I breathed, running a hand over the sleek metal of the hull. "Pretty designs, too." My new guest shrugged. 

"She was part of the Tribal Fleet. Each tribe that got a ship named after them decorated the shuttles with traditional art." I whistled. 

"Well, the craftsmanship and artistry are amazing." I sighed, turning back to him, and stuck a hand out. "Ensign Abigail Reese, Engineering apprentice, UTS Houlihan." He returned the handshake. 

"Private Toby Noel, Navigations, UTS Makah. I'm going to be staying with you while we tow you home. Speaking of, there good places to anchor tow lines? We'd put you in a tractor beam, but we're worried about damaging you." I shook my head. 

"Depending on what technological advancements have been made since I was back on Terra, tractor beam would be better. Her hitching spots are worn out. I checked this morning. Depending on how fast you try taking us, we could end up losing each other." Toby nodded, muttering what I had just told him into his comms, then nodded once he had a response.

"Alright then, tractor beam it is. One of our engineers has the old Toledo class specs up, though let me tell you, it was a son of a bitch to find those. Do you have any idea how much of a relic this thing is?" I glared at him. "Right, sorry, don't insult the Houlihan." He turned, calling to the ship at large. "I apologize for offending, Madam Hot Lips." I laughed. 

"Suck up." He shrugged. 

"Anyways, we think we know the right strength to get you home, but it'll take someone on the bridge monitoring hull integrity, which I figure either of us can-" A particularly loud yowl pierced the air. "What was that?" I sighed.

"Max, I told you; you have to wait until our guest is settled! I won't have you goin' after him before we're on our way! Now hush." I turned back to Toby. "That was Max. The cat. Like I told Mother Terra, he's slow to warm up to new people, but I was told you were assigned cuz you were good with cats." He nodded. 

"I've got three at home." The ship shuddered, and I went pale, bracing myself as I tried not to panic.

"Oh no, not again." What did I need to do? Find Max and get him secured, tie down the new shuttle- oh no. The Makah. Did they know how to deal with this? Two light brown arms gripped my shoulders as Toby shoved his face into mine.

"Abigail!" I looked at him. Damn those eyes were green. "It's just the tractor beam securing you. It's not the anomaly. You're alright." I swallowed, shifting my weight to test Houlihan's stability. "See?" The ship jolted, and Toby kept his grip on my arms. "Easy. We're just moving. You're okay, you're safe." I took a steadying breath, then nodded. He nodded back, letting me go. I looked down.

"Sorry." Toby shook his head.

"Don't be. You've been adrift for a year, alone for nine months. It makes sense that you'd have adverse emotional reactions to stimuli that remind you of the event that started this whole thing." I tilted my head. "I don't think it hurt my chances for being put here that my parents are psychologists."

"Ah." He shrugged. 

"Anyways, now that we're moving, care to give me the grand tour?" I cracked a tiny smile. 

"I'll try, but I'd watch your ankles. And your shoulders. Max is not going to be happy about any of this." Solemnly, Toby nodded. 

"I will beware of the cat," he said, so gravely it made me laugh. Which was probably the goal. I shook my head, leading him on a tour of what was left of the ship I'd called home. 

"UTS Houlihan, Toledo Class, Ensign Abigail Reese reporting. Still a relief to hear your voice, Mama. Met up with the Makah today, and their navigation says we're just passing the Cepheus system on the way home." I'd started calling Mother Terra Mama on the second day, with her permission, and it just felt better. She'd put me at the end of her rotation, instead of before the Enterprise classes like we used to be, so that we could spend more time chatting. I was curled in what used to be Captain Hunnicutt's chair, the communications on his desk finally working. Mother Terra sounded relieved.

"I'm glad to hear that, Abigail. And how are you doing with your new shipmate?" I shrugged.

"I'm not sure yet. He's... interesting, is one thing, but that's probably just because he comes from such a different time. Max hates his guts, despite Toby supposedly having cats at home. I've got him in Captain Hunnicutt's office with me so he won't try to maul the poor guy." Max was curled in the window, purring as we moved through the stars, content that it was just him and me, instead of the intruder that had just invaded his space. I sighed, petting him. "He has been helping me catch up, though. He brought a datapad over from the Makah, so he's loaned that to me for me to research on, and..." I shook my head. "It's insane, how much I've missed. The engineering feats alone...Half of the amenities on the Makah were things I might have only dreamt of in the past, and the Tribal Fleet is considered getting up there in age. Of course, Private Noel has been very stuck up about how much more superior she is to the Houlihan. That part I'm not thrilled about, but I'm trying to remind myself that to him, she's a relic, which means that the Makah is superior to her." I adjusted myself, getting more comfortable in the chair, and yawned. Mother Terra chuckled softly.

"If you need to get some sleep, I can hop off."  I shook my head. 

"No, don't. I'm tired, sure, but that's just because it's been a full couple of days. Talking to you beats any need I might have for sleep." I looked out the window, watching the stars speed by as the Makah brought us home at light speed. I hadn't realized Mother Terra was talking to me again until she repeated my name.

"Abigail?"

"Hmm? Oh. Sorry, Mama. What was it?" There was a smile in her voice as she repeated the question.

"I wanted to know if you knew the plan for what will happen when you get home. Though I still think you should sleep." I sighed, draping my arms over the back of the chair and resting my head on top of them.

"I don't want to be alone again. Toby's one thing, but... You're the first voice I heard since coming out of the anomaly. Um, right. The plan. If we've gone over it, I don't remember, but it's probably going to involve physical and psychological evals, military reports, and going over the Houlihan with a fine-toothed comb. Any reasonable request I make will probably be honored, which is good because I plan on keeping the cat. Not like he'll trust anyone else, anyway. Ummm, once that's all over they'll probably have to put together some sort of reintegration plan for me, though I doubt I'll be going up again anytime soon." I chuckled softly. "If the psych eval even lets me, I'll be surprised. Once they deem me fit to go back into society, I'll have to figure out what I'm going to do with my life in a time I won't recognize." I thought about it, then shrugged. "Did I miss anything?"

"No, you pretty much got it. Once you get back to Earth, though... I'd still like to check in on you, if that's alright?" I smiled. I was hoping for something along those lines. 

"Yes, please. I don't want to lose touch just because I'm not out in space." I yawned, then sighed. "Before you tell me to go to sleep again..." Mother Terra laughed lightly.

"I know, I know, you don't want me to leave you." She paused a moment as I tried not to drift off. "You know, it's the end of my shift. If you'd like, I could just stay with you until you fall asleep." I glanced towards the radio.

"You mean it?" Another soft laugh.

"I do. I just checked with my supervisor, she says it's totally fine. You're in the Captain's office though, right? Is there somewhere for you to get comfortable?" She sounded so concerned I couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm curled up in his chair right now. Max is on the windowsill, purring his head off. This chair is one of the comfiest places on this ship, second only to my bed. Why do you think I keep drifting off?" She chuckled. 

"Alright. As long as you have somewhere you can sleep."

"Mmhmmm," I murmured, letting my eyes drift closed. "So that I can listen to you talk until I fall asleep, would you mind talking about some of the things I've missed?"

"Sure. Depends on what you want to know, though. I don't know anything about engineering." I chuckled. 

"Don't worry, I'll leave that for the engineers. No, I saw on Private Noel's datapad something that implied we were allies with the Niobians? When did we make up with them? We were right on the brink of war before the Houlihan went through the anomaly; hell, our sensors were trained specifically for their signatures." There was a tiny pause on her end, probably while she searched for the history of that particular war. 

"I'd forgotten how many years ago it's been. I..." she paused again. "Never mind. The Niobians actually sent a spy into Terra Command as part of that budding war. They managed to straighten out a series of misunderstandings caused by a singular mistranslation in the software that corresponded with culturally different connotations of said key phrase, and once they convinced Niobe command-and Terra- that nobody was actually threatening anybody, we started being nicer to each other." Her voice got brighter, like she was talking about something she was passionate about. "Their culture from a Terran point of view is actually quite fascinating. Did you know that one of the things that they hold the most sacred is..." I didn't catch most of her explanation; I had already fallen asleep listening to her ramble excitedly. 

It took us a couple more days, but we finally made it home.  We had quite the escort; just about every ship that was around our solar system helped guide us home. Watching our approach to the planet I wasn't sure if I'd see again, I had to hide my face from Private Noel so he wouldn't see my tears. He very wisely turned his back to me to look at some instrument or another on the dashboard. Max, true to form, wandered over, bared his teeth at Toby, and sat on my feet, ruining the moment of approach and making us both laugh. 

"Terra Command to Toledo Class Vessel," came the comms, "please identify." Private Noel nodded at me, and I pushed the respond button. 

"Toledo Class Vessel UTS Houlihan to Terra Command, making our way home." I thought I heard distant cheering over the comm, probably the rest of Terra Command. Whoever was speaking- a different job from Mother Terra- had a smile in their voice as they replied. 

"UTS Houlihan, you are clear to approach. Welcome home."

They changed the way vessels deboarded these days; they had to jerry-rig Toby and I off the Houlihan, Max clutched in my arms like a life raft. The Admiral that met us, flanked by a couple other high-ranking military members and an unidentified woman that looked like she had Niobian blood in her, looked at the cat, then at me, then nodded.

"Ensign Reese, good to meet you in person. I'm Admiral Hammond, we spoke over comms. You have no idea how glad we are that you're back. And this must be Max." He held a hand out for Max to sniff, pulling back when the cat promptly hissed at him. I offered a tired smile. 

"He doesn't like new people, Sir. He even hates Private Noel's guts, and he has cats at home." My fluffy guardian responded with another hiss, and the Admiral chuckled. 

"And I'm sure going through whatever the two of you went through didn't help, did it?" I shook my head. 

"No, sir." Three, I thought privately. The three of us. Me, Max, and the Houlihan. But I didn't argue, not with an Admiral. One of the other members of our welcoming party looked at the partial Niobian and grinned. 

"I know you wanted to meet her in person, Danyelle, but I don't think her cat will let you." I frowned tentatively. 

"Media already?" I knew that the media would be all over this, I did, but I wasn't ready for it, not yet. We'd just landed, for Terra's sake. They couldn't wait until after I'd settled in a little bit? The woman, Danyelle, shook her head. 

"No, Abigail, not the media." I knew that voice. That was the first voice I'd heard other than the Computer's in nearly a year. I almost dropped the cat.

"Mama?" She smiled, spreading her hands like she wanted to give me a hug, and I did drop the cat, running across the loading dock, ignoring all protocol, and letting her wrap me in a hug. 

"I know, Abigail," she murmured into my ear over the tears I was unable to hold back and Max's aggravated yowls. "I gotcha. You're safe now." Mother Terra loves and remembers all of her children, sure, but there with my savior soothing me in person instead of over the comms, I knew that it was truer than just planet-wide propaganda. I was home, and I was safe, and she'd made sure of that. 

Part 181 Influencing events (Part 1) (Part 180)

[Support me of Ko-fi so I can get some character art commissioned and totally not buy a bunch of gundams and toys for my dog]

“Yes, I would enjoy that.” Morning Dew answered the question he had just been asked between bites of the unfamiliar but delicious fruit he was consuming.

“Are you sure?” Though Atxika's tone didn't come across as a warning, the fact she even asked that follow up gave the orangutan a real moment of pause. “Because you don't have to do anything you don't want to. You are a sapient being. That means you have the right to say no to anything you don't want to do.”

“Is there a reason I should say no?” The young orange furred man looked towards the other two Qui’ztars seated at the table but saw that both were far more focused on their food than this discussion. “Zikazoma? Chuxima? Do you two have any older sister advice for me?”

“I mean, Jytvahrs are usually nice enough people.” Zika half covered her mouth full of steak and only gave a half-hearted reply. “You do whatever you want and you'll have your back.”

“Most Jytvahrs are, as my love said, nice enough people.” Chu felt the need to expand just a bit but not enough to sway Morning Dew's choice in any direction. “But we are talking about your potential official meeting with diplomats from one of the four founding species. That has implications that may be outside your perspective. That being said, it is ultimately up to you to decide if you want to take this step for your species. Just know that Zika and I will support you no matter what you choose.”

Upon hearing that more informative context for Atxika's question, Morning Dew momentarily fell into silent contemplation. The young orangutan man really didn't seem too different from humans to Zika and Chu when it came to normal small talk and relatively shallow conversation. It was also obvious to them that this particular orange-furred being would simply accept, dismiss, or just ignore things he found too complicated when he could. But that isn't too out of place for sapient beings. Both of them would do the same thing under certain circumstances. But when it came to discussions he couldn't avoid, particularly those that required truly deep thought, the pair of Qui’ztars noticed Morning Dew would become almost eerily quiet.

One of things that TJ had warned everyone about is the fact that orangutans have smaller brains and slower neural processing speeds compared to humans. Morning Dew and other members of his species simply require more time to fully wrap their minds around complex subjects than some other intelligent forms of life in the galaxy. If degrees of sapience were to be put on a scale of one to ten with Singularity Entities at a ten and the average human or Qui’ztar at a five or six, most orangutans would be closer to a three. Still far more than a smart animal but certainly nowhere near the level of a true genius.

That's why Atxika, Zikazoma, and Chuxima were more than understanding when Morning Dew fell silent. He genuinely needed time to think this through. In fact, anyone would when presented with a conundrum like this. A Jytvahr ambassador had gotten word that the young orangutan man would be on Ten'yiosh for a couple days before returning to Earth and wanted to set up a meeting. Even a Singularity Entity would require a moment to contemplate the choice if they were in Morning Dew's position. So the trio of Qui’ztars simply showed the young orange furred man the consideration they would hope other species would grant to them.

“If meeting a Jytvahr envoy from the embassy on your world could impact my people's future…” Morning Dew picked up his half eaten fruit and began speaking after almost a full minute of silent thought. “Then will it also impact the future of humans too?”

“Well… Yes…” A subtle and surprised smile formed on Atxika's deep blue lips. “But that shouldn't really affect your choice. The humans on Earth and Mars will be judged based on their own choices. They will ultimately decide their own future regardless of what you choose.. The only thing you should worry about is your own species.”

“What if I make a decision the humans don't like and they-” Morning Dew didn't get a chance to finish his thought before Zikazoma cut off with a deep roar.

“I will personally-!”

“Like we said, Morning Dew…” Chuxima instantly leaned over to quell her partner's sudden rage with a gentle hand on her thigh. “We will support you no matter what you choose. If that means fighting to defend you and your people from humans, we will happily do so.”

“Count me in! I'll kick their ass!” With the conversation getting so serious, the orangutan and Qui’ztars didn't notice Menashka-Ngwagen stealthily approaching their table with a tray of food in her hands until she plopped down right next to Morning Dew. “The Nishnabe Militia is not afraid to defend our cousins even if that means fighting our cousins. You might not be human, my orange friend, but you're close enough. Any humans who fuck around will find out!”

“Will you protect my elephant friends too?” Genuine concern was written all over the young male orangutan's face.

“We already are.” Nashka's rainbow eyes flashed as she made a finger-gun motion towards the Qui’ztar Fleet Admiral, whose tablet suddenly made a loud notification ding. “Msko wanted me to send you that, Atxika. It's not technically an official correspondence between the UHDF and Third Matriarchy but… You took a personal interest and we wanted to keep you in the loop. Long story short, NAN's been making progress on their translator experiment. So much so that they've caught the attention of Earth governments and begun acting as a mediator of sorts on a local level. But they are still refusing to officially meet with national governments on Earth until after our address to UN-E. And, uh… That might also be affecting the other thing Mik told you about yesterday.”

“You don't have to make any decision now, Morning Dew.” Atxika acknowledged Nashka and her quick brief with a smirk and nod before concluding the previous conversation so she could pull out her tablet without coming across as rude. “Take your time and think it over. I'll ask again in a couple days. And as for my Matriarchy's official position on protecting your people, I will need to wait for my government to vote on that.”

“I do want to meet the Jytvahrs.” Morning had already made his mind when Zika and Chu made the extent of their support clear. Nashka's backing only solidified his decision. “And can I meet with someone from your government too, Atxika? I won't ask them for anything. I just want to tell them how good you and Zikazoma and Chuxima have been to me.”

/----------------------------------------------------------------------

Like most of the other oligarchs attending the conference of economic elites taking place in a secure bunker in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, Amelia du Pont doesn't claim ownership of any corporate giant. Instead, she holds the controlling stake in an investment firm with hundreds of different investment avenues. While she may not directly hold the reins of any of the most powerful companies on Earth, her little fingers stretch through the entirety of Earth’s economy. Little tugs here and subtle pokes there are usually all she would need to do to retain her family's wealth and status. When problems pop up that require a more direct approach, she can call upon resources so separate from one another that no one would be able to connect her to any of it.

After almost two full days planning with her peers of economic peerage, Amelia felt confident her work was going to pay off. She had shook hands and made deals, played into people's strengths and weaknesses alike, and concocted a scheme so grand that failure seemed impossible. All that was really needed now was a bit of morale boosting and stroking of egos. After all, confidence is key to any business interaction. In her mind, that's all this conference and the circumstances that prompted it boiled down to. The governments of Earth were given an offer they believed they couldn't refuse. All the heir to the Du Pont fortune and her colleagues needed to do was present an even more enticing alternative.

“Ah, Amelia! There you are!” Though the voice that called out Amelia sounded somewhat young, she knew the person was actually in their mid-forties. “My father and I were hoping to speak with you for a moment.”

“If it isn't Celestine and Renaldo Montemorency.” Despite being annoyed that her alone time was being interrupted, the heir to the du Pont fortune raised her cocktail to greet the father and daughter who came to speak with her. “I've heard things at A New Dawn haven't quite been all sunshine and roses since you were visited by the invaders. Is that true?”

“Those stupid Nishnabes, their blue alien friends, and that fucking Martian hick ruined-!” Celestine's rant was cut off by her father placing a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Now, now, Celestine. Using such language is below us.” Renaldo Montemorency, a man in his late sixties but looked thirty thanks to cybernetic augmentations, chided his daughter with a playful inflection. “But, uh… Sadly things on A New Dawn are not all sunshine and roses. Our, uh… Guests… They not only demanded we relinquish some extremely high value assets from our zoo but also threatened my daughter with an illegal arrest if she didn't comply. I cannot tolerate such behavior. Especially when it is directed at someone so dear to me.”

“I take that to mean you are here representing A New Dawn's board of trustees, Renaldo.” Amelia had spent most the past two days on people with the real big fish and thus hadn't had time to interact with small fries like these two.

“That we are…” The deeply vain man made a delicate motion towards the empty chairs surrounding the table Amelia sat at alone. “Do you mind if we take a seat and discuss some things with you? I believe we can provide assistance towards achieving our mutual goals.”

“Please do.” A nod and gentle sway of her open hand were all the respect Amelia could muster in this moment before taking a sip of her golden cocktail. “I would like to hear how you see our goals aligning and what you can do to ensure their success.”

“I want that Martian and his demon of a dog dead!” Celestine half-shouted the moment her rear end touched the plush cushion of the chair. “The dog first!”

“Oh my!” The laugh that slipped through Amelia's lips caused a few of the gold flakes to fly off. “Who is this man and what did his dog do to deserve your ire, my sweet Celestine?”

“The man's name is Mikhail Tecumseh River.” Renaldo opened his briefcase and pulled out a physical folder which he slid towards Amelia. “He is a professor of Theoretical Physics at the Aram Chaos University on Mars and, more importantly, the current civilian council member of the so-called United Human Defense Fleet. It is his fault we are in this situation. We also believe that he has been the deciding vote that has led to several of the inconveniences we are currently experiencing. Please take a look at this and let me know what you need to make this problem go away.”

“Let's see here…” Unlike most of the other attendees of this conference, Amelia was used to reading intel physically printed on paper. “Oh… The man who thrust us on to, as the invaders say, the galactic stage. The son of the Red Dragon and the grandson of Aram's president. That's quite the family he had. And this… My, this isn't a dog, fallabella pony! Pure bred Cane Corsos are quite expensive. He must have used his grandfather's connections to acquire such a beast. I hope he's had it neutered otherwise I'd say killing it would be a waste of good breeding stock. Perhaps I should be sure that a DNA sample is taken so I can clone it.”

“We have confirmation that this man and his dog will be in New York for the upcoming address to the UN.” It wasn't hard for Renaldo to tell that Amelia was teasing his daughter but also knew that he had no one better to help solve his problem. “I am prepared to put a fifty million Eu-D bounty on his head with another fifty million bonus if the last thing he sees is his dog dead.”

“Tell me, Celestine.” Amelia lifted her gaze off the documents just long enough to smirk at the forty-something woman pretending to be eternally youthful. “Are you really so angry that this man took away your elephants that you want to waste time and money torturing him before killing him? Wouldn't it be more efficient to simply end his worthless existence without all the trouble? And what about the Nishnabes and aliens who took so many attractions from your precious zoo? Are you willing to spend these kinds of resources on them as well?”

“Of course! That's why-”

“That's precisely why we've come to you with this instead of trying to go it alone.” Renaldo cut Celestine off and attempted to pull Amelia's attention back to him to keep his daughter from saying the wrong thing. “A New Dawn's board of trustees has given me full authorization to pull from our company’s liquid assets to make sure our mutual problem is solved.”

“Could you please articulate to me exactly what you believe our mutual problems and goals are, Renaldo?”

“Put simply, Madam du Pont, the problem we are all facing is the invasion of savages who claim to be human and demand we give up our wealth, power, and influence. Our goal is to ensure that doesn't happen.”

“You're thinking too small.” Celestine had already skimmed through the papers she had been given, found what she needed, and closed the folder. The only left for her in this conversation was to get the rest of what she wanted from these two and the organization they represent. “But first of all, a hundred million Eu-D is hardly enough of an investment in this venture. Most of the others I have spoken to promised tens of billions.”

“Like I said, the board-” Before Renaldo could counter that first point, Amelia interrupted by raising her hand in a stop motion.

“Second… Our problems are not limited to something so simple as a forced alteration in our lifestyle. Our entire world and the balance of power at its core has already been irrevocably changed. The golden shackles we have used to control the plebs are no longer restraining them. Governments who once followed us like loyal hounds have gone off leash and no longer heed our commands. Killing one man and his dog won't solve that. And as for our goals… Well… We can't simply go back to the old status quo. The invaders have technologies that we thought of as fiction, weapons we have no current counters for, and somehow won over the hearts and minds of the simpletons who maintain our economy. If our goals don't include obtaining all of that from those savage invaders, any victory we achieve will be short lived. That is why we must be more tactful in our approach. A simple assassination may only create a martyr.”

“That fucking hick needs to die!” Celestine's sudden outburst caused her father to pinch the bridge of her nose and Amelia to let out a delicate chuckle.

“Don't get me wrong, Celestine. I agree with you. But the adults are talking now.” Amelia slid the closed folder back to Renaldo then pulled out a folder of her own from the briefcase she had hidden under the table. “While I am very glad to see you've done your research, Renaldo, the only new information I saw was that Professor River’s dog is a pure bred Cane Corso. I had assumed it was just some kind of oversized Martian mutt just like him. But if you are serious about investing in the New York venture, then you'll need to bring more to this table than just a hundred million Eu-D.”

“A New Dawn’s security staff includes some rather well trained, heavily augmented, and extremely monetarily motivated individuals.” Mr. Montemorency put the first folder back into his briefcase and retrieved a second with a large red stamp on the front. “This contains the personnel profiles for the top ten agents whom I believe would be best qualified for a joint venture. I would even be willing to transfer their work contracts over your family's company after our affairs are successfully concluded.”

“Now you have interest.” Amelia smirked as she reached forward, opened the folder, and began flipping through the printed pages. “Very interesting indeed… Special forces from across the world… Special field agents from a few three letter agencies… Oh, and is this a black hat hacksmith? Can’t lock many of those into work contracts nowadays. These are the kind of resources that could serve as excellent contributions to this venture.”

“I'm glad to hear you can see the value of this offer.”

“Oh, yes… I may need to introduce you to a few people so we can get the ball rolling on this. But before that, let's get you two a drink."

“Colt?” The woman replied back, stepping back slightly, and tilting her head in confusion. Her nose scrunched, and she crossed her arms in a light huff. I could imagine the gears in her head spinning as she thought. Not being able to find whatever she was looking for in her grey matter, she shifted her attention to the wall behind me, stepping closer to it, examining each picture closely.

She took in each photograph one by one, pausing at each, while quietly muttering my name repeatedly. Something was on the tip of her tongue; anyone could tell. But as she stepped in front of a picture of me about a decade earlier, she paused, reached out, and ran a finger over the glass, clearing away the dust.

She pulled the picture off the wall, then turned around and compared it to me. A smile, predatory yet equally joyful, formed on her plush lips, with hints of slightly longer-than-normal canines visible. Without any warning, the woman tossed herself at me, arms draping over my shoulders as she squealed in joy.

“Colt, I never thought I would see you again.” She buried her head into the crook of my neck, pulling herself flush against me with an amount of strength that was truly shocking. 

Awkwardly, I hugged her back. My mind raced through every memory of who I knew over the years. Specifically, I was desperate for any whiff of a hint of who I knew, Pop-pop knew, and whose mother would trust him enough to teach her daughter to look for him if she needed help.

Leaning back, I took a good look at the woman, her smile, brownish-amber eyes, everything---I had to know who this was. It was her small set of speckled freckles running across her cheeks that made me realize who she was. Specifically, the little constellation-like grouping in the shape of the southern cross.

Other kids would constantly tease her about that whenever I visited Palmyra in the summer. Call her weird, a loser, a freak. She and I had first connected because of ostracism. The other kids did not like me because I was a city boy.  For many years, every summer and hunting season, we would spend many hours as one another's only friend in the little town. I could never forget the morning glow bouncing off those freckles, bent over a bait bucket, her tongue caught between her teeth as she tried to thread a worm onto a hook. 

Compared to the last time I had seen her, she had certainly grown up in ways that made Bailey far more womanly than I could have ever expected.

Before today, the last time we had interacted was the fourth of July 1954. Pop-pop, Bailey, and her mother, Mary, found our own little quiet copse on the edge of the lake to watch the town's fireworks and have a little barbecue of all the little gluegil and sunfish Bailey and I had pulled from the water that day.

That was the same year her mother was attacked. It had happened after I had returned to Father's house after the summer. I still remember how much it hurt knowing Bailey was gone when I returned that hunting season; Pop-pop even drove me out to their home to see the darkened windows and unkempt yard. That sight had convinced me she was gone for good.

“Bailey,” I smiled, returning the hug she had given me. “It is amazing to see you again,” I said, tightening the hug, holding her like she was a dream that would vanish the moment my eyes opened.

“Same,” Bailey replied, clinging to me like I was keeping her centered in the universe. It was a tight embrace, one that felt strange, not wrong, but like me, offering her that skinship was needed in a way I did not fully understand.

“What were you looking for Clayton for anyway?” I asked, loosening the embrace and stepping back. Bailey's hands lingered, running along my sides as I backed up, like she could not quite let me go yet again.

The joy of reuniting with a friend she had not seen in years vanished in an instant, replaced by a look I was familiar with. Many times when we were kids, she had that look. Usually, it was when her mother was not going to allow her to stay over or go camping, but it always signaled that there was something that would be near impossible to explain.

“Come on, let's sit down. I will make you something warm to drink,” I smiled, walking her toward the small table attached to the kitchen. It was hardly a table, more of a plank of wood with some legs barely fitted, but it did the job, and I was damn happy with it when I first built it. That it was still standing five years later was a miracle.

We crossed the room, that contemplative look never quite leaving her surprisingly beautiful face. Not that her being beautiful was surprising, but that my friend, that little girl I had vivid memories of her throwing a lob of mud at my face, had grown up to be so stunning. I could practically see her on the front of a Sears catalog.

Bailey kept staring at me with such intensity that I could still feel her eyes lingering on me while heating that morning's cold coffee on the stove or retrieving the milk from the ice chest. I swore there was a packet of bacon in there, but I guess I must have forgotten to pack one. I would just have to pick one up when I went into town.

Once we were both seated, a warm cup of joe in hand, we sat in lingering silence. I did not pressure Bailey about the topic. That she was struggling to find a way to broach the topic was obvious. She would look at me, out the window, back at the coffee, then to me once again, all while shifting nervously in place.

While waiting, I theory-crafted. It was hard not to. A man finds his long-lost friend outside his cabin late at night in the snow. It sounded like the setup for a bad pulp novel, not real life. My itching imagination conjured tales from mafia bosses wishing for Bailey to sleep with the fishes to elopement from Arabian princes' harems. Were they far-fetched? Of course, but still, with nothing solid to bite into, my feral imagination needed sating somehow.

I was nearing the bottom of my second mugful when Bailey at last spoke up.

“So my mom...we have been running since you last saw me,” Bailey said nearly silently. I leaned in closer to hear. “That man. Jackson has been chasing us since he learned the truth?”

Bailey white-knuckled the mug, a slight tremor in her hands. I reached over and rested a hand against her, giving her something to steady against. She released the mug with that hand and squeezed mine, taking in a deep breath.

“What truth? Did he think your mom and he were in a relationship or something?” I said, my mind racing with a fresh wave of mythical ideas about Bailey's mom and Jackson traveling around the country, stealing from banks, robbing armored cars, and tucking the money underneath their homes between heists.

Her face soured, and she tightened her grip. “No, that monster could never love anyone, especially not my mom. He chased us all around the country just because we are different. It's not like we had ever hurt anyone or done anything. We just wanted to live a calm and quiet life here. Was that so much to ask?”

“I don't think so,” I replied. While I did not know exactly what kind of prejudice Bailey and her mom were facing, I was not one to judge based on something immutable. I did fully understand how many people in America were steeped in ignorance, arrogance, and outright hate of the other.

It was all over the news, the indifferent treatment of all forms of progress around the nation. I remember people at the local soda shop booing Dr. King's I Have a Dream speech just a few months ago.

“See? Mom was right about you and Clayton. Even knowing what we are, neither of you ever treated us differently.”

“Knowing what you are?”

“Yeah, we are werewolves.”

“Pardon?”

“Well, yeah. Mom and I are werewolves. That is why Jackson started chasing us, and why he...” Bailey paused, tears silently rolling down her cheeks. Before I could ask her to elaborate about what she meant by werewolves and Jackson, she was crying, not a little sob, full-on body-wracking crying. She pushed her head into her crossed arms on the table, calling out for her mother between each retch.

I reached back across the table and patted Bailey on the shoulder, trying to offer her whatever comfort I could. I didn't believe what she had to say about werewolves; that was just flat-out hokey. Werewolves were not real, and you did not need to be a scholar of penny dreadfuls and monster pictures to know that. The Wolf Man cometh, The Werewolf of Paris, even The Wolf's Bride were all books Pop-pop had read to me growing up. I knew they were little more than fictitious tales of whimsy and woe.

I had loved them enough to have sought out additional tales in magazines. Most were nothing more than pulp excursions about men of Conan’s strength and will slaughtering the beasts while rending flesh with silvered swords. They were sufficiently entertaining at least.

That Bailey might have a slightly less-than-stable perspective on reality did not matter at this exact moment. That look in her eyes was very real. That pain was genuine. I could not say if her mother had died, or if Jackson—a man who might as well be the boogeyman was after her; either way, I would keep her safe for the time being. First thing in the morning, I would take her to town and to someone more qualified.

“It’s alright. You’re safe here.” I assured. “We can talk more about it in the morning. For now, how about we get some rest? You are likely still exhausted. That sounds good?”

Bailey nodded while sniffling.

We finished our coffee, and I escorted her to the bedroom, letting her know that the outhouse was just outside, to the right of the cabin. I stayed on the couch in the main room. As I sat there, a single candle, my only illumination, cast dancing shadows across the pictures. I looked at Pop-pop smiling happily, right beside Bailey and her mother. For just a moment, I wondered if she was telling the whole truth.

After all I had seen. I wondered. There were those bipedal tracks that led right to her. She had survived half-naked in a blizzard. None of that should be possible—but she was still alive. I shook the lingering thought away once I realized I had subconsciously reached for the side-by-side.

Bailey had suffered unimaginable trauma. Exhaustion, grief, and shock could make anyone believe impossible things. That had to be the answer.

“Why did you have to tell me all those tall tales?” I chuckled at the picture.

--------

So another chapter down. It is time to escalate things starting next chapter, we are damn near halfway through this little novella's length at this point. But don't worry we are going to see some werewolf and hunter fighting as we go.

Please don't forget to updoot and comment. I will see you in the chat.

-Colin

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Chapter 138: Black Powder, Gems, and Thauma

“So, this is it, huh?” Viktor said as he took the silver, gem-studded gauntlet from his chief gremlin.

“Yes, Master,” Kazyk replied, baring his usual toothy grin, as if he were merely presenting a clever prank instead of an object capable of leveling half an entire dungeon floor.

Once Pimm returned to the dungeon with all the black powder he managed to collect, the gremlins had been set to work immediately and started producing explosives using Alycia’s method: each charge consisted of a large amount of powder compressed into a reinforced casing, paired with a powerstone—the bigger fragment of the pair created after a fire gem had been broken.

Since managing multiple individual triggerstone–powerstone pairs had proven to be a logistical nightmare, one riddled with opportunities for catastrophic mistakes, Viktor had decided to simplify things. All triggerstones were now gathered in one place, embedded in a single gauntlet. That way, when the time came, he would only need to spread the explosives wherever he wished, then detonate all of them at once with a single thought.

Of course, he was aware that gremlins were, by nature, reckless little disasters waiting to happen, and trusting them with anything that could blow up was hardly what most sensible people would describe as a good idea. So he had taken precautions to reduce the odds of accidental annihilation.

He had ordered Celeste to build an entirely new workshop, isolated from the first one and from basically everything else, dedicated solely and obsessively to the production of explosives. The gremlins assigned here worked on this and this alone. Their entire existence was now narrowed to mixing powder and sealing cases, following instructions to the letter. Kazyk had been explicitly forbidden from ever setting foot in this new workshop—Viktor had no intention of losing his chief gremlin to some stupid mishap—and instead oversaw the operation remotely through delegation, reports, and the occasional Celeste-assisted telepathically yelling in the face.

“Have you tested it?” Viktor asked as he studied the gauntlet more closely. It was the very same one Pimm had once worn to hurl fireballs at his goblins, now repurposed into something more subtle and, arguably, far more terrifying.

“Yes, Master.”

Which meant a large number of fire gems had already been destroyed in the name of science. Two gold per piece, if he remembered correctly.

“So,” came a voice, “that’s what you’ll be using to destroy that portal, right, Master?”

Viktor already knew who it was before he even heard the first word. After all, the Core Room had just bloomed with sudden light before settling down into a more tolerable glow. It served as a herald that announced her presence more clearly than any footsteps ever could. He turned, unsurprised, to find exactly who he had expected: a woman carved from radiance, hair a spill of molten gold.

“Yes.” He glanced aside. “Kazyk, this is Galatea. Our dungeon’s newest Guardian.”

The gremlin’s grin widened, then he bowed with exaggerated flair.

“My lady, I’ve heard of your arrival, but I did not know you would be such a beauty.”

So even gremlins know how to flatter women, huh?

Galatea laughed softly. “And you must be the one Khenemhotep calls the Master Builder. He has nothing but praise for your intellect.”

Alright, enough of this whole buttering-each-other-up.

Viktor cleared his throat. “You’re dismissed,” he told Kazyk. “Have the finished explosives brought to the storage room. I’ll call for them when the time comes.”

The storage room in question was, naturally, far away from both workshops and all other facilities. When dealing with dangerous items, there was no such thing as being too careful.

“Yes, Master,” the gremlin boss replied at once.

He bowed again—first to Viktor, then to Celeste, and finally, with particular enthusiasm, to Galatea—before scurrying out of the Core Room.

Viktor waited until the gremlin was gone before raising his hand and conjuring a gust of wind. The gauntlet slipped free, drifted across the chamber, and settled neatly atop a pile of items stacked in one corner. Those were the Reliquaries he hadn’t found a practical use for yet, so for now they sat there quietly, gathering dust in the Core Room.

What he had just cast was not a Thauma. Instead, he was simply drawing on the power of the wind gem bound to his wrist. In fact, he now carried four such stones, one on each wrist and ankle, and he was going to use them to fly. The two Thauma he had crafted were merely contingencies, backup measures in case the gems were lost, damaged, or forcibly removed.

Viktor turned back to his Guardian, eyeing her luminous form.

“You really like walking around in that shape, don’t you?”

“Well, yes. The suit of armor is far too cumbersome to move around in. There’s no reason to use it when I’m not in combat.”

Was that really the only reason? Or did she simply prefer to look like this in front of others, being light and warmth and curves, instead of appearing as a skull in a jar?

She had once said that she could make this projection of hers turn invisible. But the truth was, it worked the other way around. Her projection was incorporeal and thus invisible by default, meaning what he was seeing right now existed solely because she chose to manifest it. When she “turned invisible,” she was merely deactivating the glamor and returning to her natural, unseen state.

She had also claimed that this was what she looked like when she was alive. But a human’s appearance changed drastically over the years, so why had she chosen this particular snapshot of herself? What reason could there be, if not that this was when she had been most beautiful? Also, since the image was entirely of her own making, it was very possible she had taken the opportunity to make a few “refinements” to it.

But... well, whatever.

Vanity was something all humans, living or dead, were subject to in one way or another. As long as it didn’t interfere with her duties as a Guardian, he couldn’t care less.

“Just to be sure,” Viktor asked, “that projection of yours can pass through the portal, right?”

“Yes,” Galatea replied without hesitation. “Even though I haven’t done it with that particular portal, as long as it functions like any other form of teleportation, my projection should be able to pass through without any issue.”

If it were possible, Viktor would prefer to verify that claim in practice rather than in theory. Unfortunately, having her attempt to cross the portal before the operation began would almost certainly trigger at least one alarm and—given that he had no idea how many layers of barriers they had in place—possibly several more. Thus, experimentation was not an option. He had no choice but to take Galatea at her word and hope that, when the time came, the portal would behave exactly as expected.

On the other hand, assuming her projection could reached the other side, it would provide a significant advantage to his plan. After all, even if the projection ended up stranded on the other side once the portal was destroyed, it would hardly matter. Galatea could simply dispel it and create a new one back in the dungeon, barely inconvenienced in the slightest.

That said, the projection was not without drawbacks. Being incorporeal meant it couldn’t physically interact with anything. It could neither wear the gauntlet nor carry the explosives. Thus, beyond reconnaissance, there was very little it could actually do. But that was fine. Such limitations had already been accounted for.

“When will we carry out the operation, Master?” Galatea asked.

“In a week or two, I suppose. We have to wait until the portal is complete.”

The entire point, after all, was to bring the thing down after Iskora had poured a significant amount of time, money, and manpower into its construction, so sabotaging it too early would rob the act of much of its impact. On top of that, an important part of the plan required going through the portal itself, which was obviously impossible until it was fully operational.

Besides, he hadn’t reached Level 9 yet, which was reason enough to avoid rushing into anything particularly dangerous.

For the past three weeks, Celeste had sent him every single point she earned, a steady stream of progress that allowed him to advance at a pace far faster than he could have managed on his own. Yet, even with that advantage, it was still not enough to push him over the threshold. So a little more time would be welcome. After all, if he was going to march into battle, it only made sense to do so in the best possible condition.

In the meantime, he would focus on consolidating his gains: earning additional Sigils and pushing his experimentation with the Thauma further. He needed to test multiple variations and combinations to determine which configuration would be most useful for the upcoming mission.

And, speaking of Sigils, he had already accumulated a respectable haul, courtesy of Khenemhotep.

Of course, death magic was beyond his reach, as he hadn’t unlocked the corresponding mastery. But earth magic was another story. There were a lot of spells to study, and he had done exactly that.

The first thing he had chosen to analyze was the earthen spears, the undead priest’s signature attack. The conjuration of a single projectile translated, in Sigil terms, to one Sigil of Controlling and four Sigils of Fortifying. The controlling aspect was trivial; the spear was simply launched straight ahead. The real work lay in the compression, forcing loose sand into something dense enough to punch through the finest armor.

Replicating the effect as a Thauma would cost him five Focus for each projectile, which meant a single volley would drain his entire reserve in an instant. By comparison, Khenemhotep could fire them barrage after barrage, and he could do so even in environments where no sand was present at all.

Next came the quicksand spell. In essence, Khenemhotep had transformed solid ground under his enemies’ feet into loose sand and let gravity do the rest. Studying it earned Viktor two Sigils of Transmuting. They were three-cost Sigils, and thus, very useful. With these, he could create Thauma capable of converting water into other liquids or air into different gases, opening up all sorts of possibilities.

Then there was pass wall, which yielded two Sigils of Bestowing, two Sigils of Phasing, and two Sigils of Maintaining. The Sigils of Bestowing and Maintaining were largely functional necessities, allowing the effect to be applied to other people and sustained for a limited duration, while the key component was the Sigil of Phasing. Apparently, the affected individual was temporarily synchronized with the elemental nature of earth itself, allowing them to occupy the same physical space as solid earth without interacting with it at all, bypassing any structural resistance as though it simply didn’t exist. With the same principle, Viktor would be able to craft Thauma that allowed him to pass unharmed through fire or water. Air was theoretically possible as well, though it was, of course, completely pointless for obvious reasons.

The next spell was a more mundane one: raise wall. Two Sigils of Controlling, two Sigils of Amplifying, two Sigils of Fortifying. The process involved pulling earth up from the ground, making more of it from what was already there, then condensing the whole mass into a solid barrier. There was no need for Sigils of Maintaining, since a properly formed structure of earth was perfectly capable of persisting on its own. Once raised, the wall would remain exactly where it was until it was physically destroyed.

And finally, the phoenix of sand. Five Sigils of Controlling, two Sigils of Fortifying, three Sigils of Animating, four Sigils of Maintaining, and that was not even the spell’s strongest incarnation. In its full form, it exceeded what Viktor could currently analyze, so he had to ask Khenemhotep to have Lahmia reduce it to a twenty-cost version, the absolute maximum he could handle with Earth Mastery at Tier III.

And with that final analysis complete, most of his Insight Tokens were gone, spent and transformed into Sigils, converted from raw potential into concrete tools at his disposal.

Path of the Thaumaturgist – LV8

Arcane Point: 0/477

Insight Tokens: 2

Focus: 35/35

Mastery of Fire I (proficiency: 0%)

Mastery of Water I (proficiency: 0%)

Mastery of Earth III (proficiency: 50%)

Mastery of Air I (proficiency: 0%)

Mastery of Dark I (proficiency: 0%)

Supreme Thauma:

-Rekindled Ember

Sigils:

- Sigil of Animating x3

- Sigil of Transmuting x2

- Sigil of Phasing x2

- Sigil of Making x4

- Sigil of Unmaking x2

- Sigil of Bestowing x3

- Sigil of Amplifying x2

- Sigil of Controlling x19

- Sigil of Maintaining x7

- Sigil of Fortifying x11

A little more, Viktor thought. Just a few more weeks, then he was going to unleash havoc.

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I turned to look at Norak. Then I glanced around the rest of the CIC to see if there was anyone else who agreed with him.

Not because I was worried about a mutiny so much as because I wanted to take notes of anyone who needed to be removed from their station because they were a loyalist to this paper pushing bureaucrat with no spine.

Nobody seemed to be agreeing with him, though. If anything, they seemed more relieved that I was ignoring him than upset we were plunging into potential battle.

So I went right on ignoring him since that seemed to be working for me so far.

"We're getting a better picture, William," Arvie said, and this time he said it through the CIC speakers rather than saying it inside the simulation. I smiled. I was pretty sure he'd done that on purpose.

"Show me what you've got, Arvie," I said, staring at the holoblock.

"Excuse me. You can't do that," Norak said. "This is my fleet."

I continued ignoring him. There were times when it was worthwhile to get into a fight, and there were times when it was a good idea to ignore somebody and show them exactly how beneath your contempt they were. This seemed like one of those times.

Besides. It didn't seem like a good idea to introduce myself to one of Varis's cousins by dressing him down and telling him what a coward he was in front of everyone in the crew. Not to mention everyone in the crew seemed more than happy to do what I was asking them to do for the moment, so I'd take it. 

"Could you go ahead and bring your analysis up on the holoblock, Arvie?" I asked.

Somebody stepped up next to me. I glanced over. She wore the ribbons of a livisk captain on her shoulders. I nodded to her.

"Captain," I said.

"General Consort," she said, nodding back to me.

"Please. Call me Bill," I said, hitting her with a smile.

She had purple hair that was done up in a bun. She immediately struck me as a no-nonsense kind of person, but I didn't know anything about her.

"Very well, Bill," she said, though there was a moment of hesitation as she said it. Like she wasn't sure about being so informal with the way she addressed somebody who was handing out commands.

"Trust me, it's okay," I said. "Bill is a lot less of a mouthful than calling me General Consort all the time."

"You don't have the authority to…”

"Could you excuse me for a moment, please?" I said to the captain. Then I paused. "What was your name, by the way?"

She stood up a little taller, which for a livisk woman meant she stood up tall enough that she was looking me directly in the eyes.

"Captain Lehrai Thoms,” she said, hitting me with a quick nod. "And it's a pleasure to have you on board, sir. We've heard and seen all about your exploits."

"I'm sure you have," I said.

Okay, I guess my reputation preceding me was doing me a little bit of good still. For all that there were times when I felt like I was literally living the life of some hyper-competent pulp hero from the ancient days of science fiction.

Whatever. I'd take it as long as we kept winning, or not losing to the point that it was a permanent thing.

Instead I wheeled around and stared at Norak, and suddenly the entire CIC was silent except for the beeps and boops that were part and parcel of any modern warship run by electronics. My eyes narrowed as I stared at him, even as his eyes went wide and he took a subtle but very noticeable step back and away from me.

I raised my voice as I addressed the CIC, even as I stared at Norak. I figured the move here was to address the crew all around me rather than giving him that dressing down that, honestly, he so richly deserved.

"Is there anybody here who thinks there’s a danger to this fleet from engaging whatever’s out there around that moon?"

There was silence.

"Is there anyone who is afraid of what looks to be basically a raiding force?"

Again, silence.

"I don't know that I would characterize that as a raiding force," Arvie said in the simulation. "We honestly have no way of telling what..."

I held a hand up in the simulation to stop him.

"Yeah, I know, Arvie. I'm trying to make a point here, though, and I'm doing this very deliberately so Norak here gets that point."

“Ah, I understand," Arvie finally said. "The intricacies and niceties of dealing with people in real space are one of the reasons why it's so useful to have you here to teach me these things.” 

I noted the subtle difference there between what he actually said and what he could have said. He thought it was a good thing that he had me here to bridge a gap in his knowledge. He didn't say anything about how it was nice to have me here to do all of those things for him. Like he was using me as his flesh space avatar.

It was nice to know he still saw me as a partner, even as he could probably wipe the floor with all of us. It was good to have friends, not people who were trying to manipulate you to take everything over.

It also said something about how much time I'd spent in livisk space that I was thinking about one of my friends in terms of him trying to take over the world. Though he was an artificial intelligence, and there was a lot of pop culture memory ingrained in me that said artificial intelligences were only interested in one thing.

"Is there anybody here who’s afraid of going into battle, even if the odds are stacked against us?"

This time there was some angry grumbling around the CIC. A few of those angry grumbles included angry looks directed at Norak. His eyes went wider and wider.

"Are you accusing me of cowardice?" he asked, his mustache puffing out with the sheer force of his angry retort.

It was funny. I'd never seen someone with a big, bushy, bristling mustache looking like they were losing it, but I was getting that experience now. It felt for all the world like I was riding shotgun on a dreadnought back in the late 19th century, and I'd just told someone from the admiralty that they needed to figure out where they left their balls and go attack something.

I wasn't sure exactly what a dreadnought would attack back in the late 19th century. My understanding of military history is they were mostly used to steam around the world and show off to other countries how big the colonial powers' collective dick was, but whatever.

"I'm not accusing you of cowardice," I said. "I'm merely observing that you seem to be afraid of going in there and mixing it up with what looks like an inferior force."

"Because it's not our business."

"Saving people is always our business," I said, cutting across him. "Now I want you to go stand in that corner over there for a little while, and I want you to watch what we're doing here. Maybe you can learn a thing or two about how to actually command a fleet."

He stared at me for another moment. His mouth worked. His breath blew out, which sent his mustaches blowing out as well. Finally, he moved over to stand in that corner. Though that didn't stop him from turning to glare at me.

"Could I please get a warrior to stand over there and keep an eye on him?" I asked, looking around.

"On it, sir," a man at the other end of the CIC said. He wore a small badge under his shoulder ribbons that said he was a subcommander, and he was in charge of security.

I turned to the tactical station. This was an actual warship, and so tactical and the chief of security weren't the same thing. They probably also didn't get the shit kicked out of them every time a new threat came up against the fleet to prove how dangerous that threat actually was. And I was also pretty sure they'd never gotten in a fight with a barrel and lost.

"I want you to analyze the situation out there. We need to figure out a way to get the drop on them. Can you do that, please?"

"On it, sir," the woman said.

I turned back to the captain. "Okay, Lehrai. We’re going to be moving the fleet in slowly, but I want us to try and do a..."

As though on cue, a beautiful pincer move showing multiple fighters launched from the carrier dropping out of fold space and moving in on the enemy fleet appeared at the same time that I was about to suggest the same thing.

"Well, how about that?" I said in the simulation. "We need to give that lady over at tactical a promotion. She came up with that almost as fast as you did."

"I was much faster than her," Arvie said with a sniff. "But I agree with your assessment. There is something to be said for somebody who is able to think on their feet like that."

"Exactly," I said.

"Okay, so we need to do a pincer move. We're going to have the fighters launch and drop out of fold space as soon as I get done talking with everybody involved in this little conflict."

Though the little conflict wasn't as much of a conflict now. Not judging by the holoblock, at least. The antagonizing ships had disengaged when they realized somebody was pinging them. They were flooding the area all around them with active scans and fold space pings of their own, but our fleet was far enough out that we’d get lost in all the noise of all of the other ships that were moving through the system.

Our fleet was one of many. We were obviously a military fleet, but things could get a little fuzzy if you didn't know what you were looking for and you weren't doing active scans to try and figure out what was going on in a system.

fold space made everything a lot smaller, but that didn't change the fact that space was really big. If we didn't pick up on that distress signal then we might’ve missed this little conflict entirely.

"Could we get a comm buoy to fold in just above the north pole of that gas giant?" I asked. "I want to talk with these people, but I also want to make sure there's not a chance anyone on those attacking ships can figure out where we are until I'm ready to drop the hammer."

"I can do that, sir," a gentleman over at the comms station said. 

He started tapping away at his, station, and a moment later I saw another buoy drop from the ship and immediately fold. A moment later it appeared above the gas giant. Far enough up that the gravity well wouldn't screw up its fold ability by much.

It was also a small probe that was only meant to act as a repeater for the conversation I was about to have, and it was over a gas giant. Sure, there was a possibility there was a biosphere down there full of floaters and Hindenburgs and other things like that, the sort of thing you found in any gas giant because it turns out that life, uh, finds a way, but I didn't think this was going to hurt any of them.

Plus, gas giants were big. Not as big as space, or going down to the chemist, but still big. Even if we did mess with a small chunk of the biosphere, it wasn't going to be enough to destroy everything. Maybe. I hoped.

"Okay, so here we go," I said. "Is everybody ready? If I do this, then there's the possibility they're able to track the signal from the probe to our ship."

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Down and down they walked into the depths, Rin's blade carving deep, wavy curls into the wall to keep them anchored in place amongst the endless spirals. The strange lightlessness of this realm was ever-apparent, almost crushing in its own way. Logically, Rin knew it made it easier to see, but her instincts screamed that something was wrong every time she glanced towards a corner where a shadow should live. It reminded her of a still and silent forest, the song of birds and insects alike quieted by the presence of some terrifying predator.

Glancing over her shoulder, she looked to Yosuke, making sure that the undead wasn't far behind her. The corpse-swordsman 'met' her gaze as best he could with no eyes and nodded. He held his pair of blades, still slick with blackened ichor from the slaughter above, in an almost casual stance, although as a fellow expert, Rin could see the hidden tension in his every step.

She opened her mouth, about to ask if he had sensed anything, before shutting it and huffing in annoyance. How troublesome it was that he couldn't speak; when it came to a fight, as the Nameless surely wouldn't leave their treasures unguarded, she could warn him if he were getting outflanked, but he was unable to extend her the same courtesy.

Turning back around, their march into the depths continued, and Rin was starting to doubt herself. Down and down they went. How deep did this nest go? Had she misunderstood the mechanics at play and the Greater Nameless found a way to entrap them in an eternal loop despite her best efforts?

Her heart dropped, but she continued regardless.

She hoped Sensei was alright. Lady Yuki had seemed so terribly worried about him, about how he might not be himself when they next saw him. The thought of anyone being able to break someone so strong and bearing such an indomitable spirit with casual ease was as foreign to her as walking outside to a green sky.

If the worst came to pass, if she had to fight him… Well, even if she wasn't immediately crushed by a man who doubtlessly had decades or centuries more experience than her, she questioned if her will would be strong enough to strike out at one so kind.

Rin wished a thousand misfortunes on Yuki's 'sister' for forcing them into such dire straits, but she dared not speak her venom aloud, lest the nogitsune somehow hear. If she were even half the kitsune that Yuki was, Rin doubted her chances in an honourable fight, even with Yosuke's backing.

She just needed to have faith in her sensei and Lady Yuki. The two of them were much more powerful than her and Yosuke; with luck, their foes would be too distracted to react to Rin’s part in their daring plan before it was too late.

All at once, the air twisted. Where there had once been an inoffensive mustiness permeating the tunnel, there was suddenly the heavy scent of damp coin. Below it, an undercurrent of faint decay, reminding Rin of the time she had spotted the carcass of a whale upon the shore when she was seven. 

It was fresh when she first saw it, near where her family's ship was moored during a voyage to give offerings to their patron. In her youth, she had mistaken it for sleeping and believed the whale must have gotten tired of all the swimming and needed a break, although she had never asked the caretakers her father assigned to her.

The following days, as the colossal beast slowly putrefied and scavengers emerged from every nook and cranny to tear chunks from its form in a great feast, were enlightening.

Shaking herself from her reverie, Rin narrowed her eyes, gripping her blade tightly. It was a good thing it was made of such fine materials; otherwise, she would have feared her strength would split the handle in twain. "Stay on guard. We approach the stench of decay and money," Rin gravely whispered, unsure if her companion still had a sense of smell.

The stench only grew stronger as they descended, clinging to Rin's nostrils like it was desperate to be noticed. Yet, even though the rot grew more apparent, it didn't become much more pungent. Whatever she was sensing was fresh, without the time to fester into something worse.

Down.

Down.

Then, after they rounded one last curve, they beheld an ocean.

Stretching out into the distance before them was a solid sheet of twisted, blackened limbs, forming dunes and valleys of bodies. They were frozen in waves upon an abyssal sea, thick fog smothering the spaces between them in an unnatural haze. Rin dropped into a ready stance, holding her blade out as if to cut the tide should it crash upon her. 

But no grim tide of beasts rushed out to meet her. 

At first, she suspected that they were sleeping, but nothing but the grave and stone was so still. Looking more closely, she saw that hardly a tenth of the limbs were still attached to their owners. Some were torn, some clearly severed. Some abdomens were split from the body, and others were seemingly sawn in two. A scant few almost seemed to have melted like snow in the summer sun, bodies blossoming into grim flowers of chitin and meat.

What stood before her was once an army, one that might have once torn the region asunder in a storm of self-perpetuating expansion and looting. Now, it was a sea of corpses, disassembled into neat parts to make sure none of them yet clung to life.

Slowly, Rin lowered her blade, her heart slowing along with it. Only the heavens knew how many thousands of bodies were here, but, thankfully, they were nothing more than that.

"I believe we found where the ones that Lord Hall starved went," she quietly muttered to her companion. Had the beast at the head of the swarm lost control of its flock and been forced to cull them? It happened so quickly, too. Men could last weeks without food, days without water, but the spiders seemed to need riches like a mortal needed air. Now that she was looking more carefully, Rin could see Kiku's handiwork on some of the bodies, too. It seemed like she was forced to aid in the slaughter. If the Nameless’ number had found themselves cut from sustenance, they might have rushed to find value to feed themselves, which meant…

Rin glanced into the distance, looking where the piles of corpses rose highest, near an opposite wall. "I think I know where they keep their valuables," she said, gesturing where the piles rose to an apex. "We head over, cut down whatever is guarding the hoard, and destroy as much as possible before they can react. Questions?"

Her steely gaze met her companion, who straightened before nodding.

At that, the two of them crept into the mist. Idly, Rin wondered where the fog could have come from, but no answer that came to mind felt satisfying. Maybe Nameless blood behaved strangely after their death?

The piles of cold, stiff corpses loomed over them as they stepped only where the corpses were thinnest. In some places, Rin and Yosuke could even touch the ground, but most of the time they had to step on at least one layer of thin legs and carapace. Now that she was closer, Rin couldn't help but notice just how small some of them were compared to others. Many were approaching the size of carts, or at least bears, but far too many were more akin to the size of a person, or particularly large dogs.

Hatchlings, maybe? It was hard for Rin to imagine Nameless being anything other than full-sized monsters tearing through the woods, looking for anything valuable to skitter back to their nest with.

Did the Greater Nameless lay eggs, or did they just manifest somewhere in the depths of the caves when they had enough money to support new numbers? Maybe they hatched from the money pile itself, tiny limbs crawling out in a tide from below coins.

Every possibility was more disturbing than the last. Rin was glad that Yuki was going to crush this place into dust. Once, she thought that the Empire was too harsh on Unbound cultivating Nameless for materials, but now she feared that immediate execution wasn't enough.

Crunch.

Rin's eyes widened as she heard something break under the weight of something ahead.

She brought her blade up, face contorting into an animalistic snarl. Of course the vault would have guards patrolling nearby rather than just guarding the entrance, even if she hadn't seen them! They'd have to fight their way to the door. It'd delay them, but who knew for how long? There could be dozens or, heavens forbid, even more hidden nearby. Lady Yuki and Lord Hall would have to hold off a bit longer!

Or would they?

Rin thought back to the time Lord Hall had buried himself in forest debris in anticipation of the tax collectors. It was just before she had seen the terrifying form of the Greater Nameless for the first time, and she remembered her incredulity as he explained the simple truths of the world.

Hiding was beneath her, and suited an assassin rather than a proud Unbound, but, just as Lord Hall had asked not so long ago, what if she failed due to failing to seize every advantage she could?

Could she live with herself?

Rin spun around and grabbed a rather surprised Yosuke by the collar before diving into a mountain of corpses, burying them both deep in the viscera of dozens of dead with a dull clatter. The black blood dripped in her hair. It got in her eyes. When she inhaled, she could taste the beginnings of rot from the vile liquid. Beside her, Yosuke twisted, trying to right himself, but before he could cause the pile to shift further, the dragon-blooded Unbound seized him by either shoulder, binding him in place.

"Be still!" she whisper-shouted. "Something's coming!"

Part of her wished that this strange realm had darkness. Abyssal blackness would have been preferable to seeing the grotesque, bulging intestines of one of those beasts draped across her companion's back mere inches away.

Thankfully, Yosuke quickly calmed down, although the undead was still tense, as if he were about to spring into action. It wasn't a second too soon, either.

As soon as he stilled, she heard the tick tick tick of eight long, sharp legs crawling across the corpses. Through a pinhole gap in the pile, she saw the beast approach, emerging from the mist like dead wood emerging from the water in front of a ship. It was larger than an average Nameless, although still nowhere near the sheer size of the Greater Nameless itself, and bore a steadfast demeanour as it unhaltingly marched across the broken bodies of its family—or did it only see them as competitors?

It showed not a trace of care as it trampled the bodies, splitting a particularly small example of its kind in two with a single, blade-like limb. It didn't even break stride as it continued between the piles with the near-silent tapping of far too many feet. Closer, closer, closer…

It passed right in front of them before, suddenly stopping, turning its maddened many-eyed gaze towards their hiding spot.

Rin grimaced, bracing herself against an abdomen behind her, getting ready to use it as a springboard. Could it smell them, or perhaps the value of her blade? As long as the beast only suspected and didn't know, perhaps she could kill it before…

Before she could ruminate further, the beast turned away and continued on its patrol without a strike or cry of alarm.

She dared not move until well after she heard the shadowy monster's steps fade away.

Rin let out a breath she didn't know that she was holding as the sentry continued past them without a single shriek or alarm. Her heart was beating so quickly; she didn't have the constitution for stealth; she would have been less worried charging at five of them at once to take their heads!

Breaking from her fugue, Rin carefully pulled herself from the pile before offering a hand to Yosuke, which he thankfully took. Rin tried to ignore the feeling of his dead, spongy flesh squishing under her grasp as she extracted him in turn, ensuring that the pile wouldn't collapse behind them and draw the patrolling guard back to their location.

"My apologies," she muttered, surreptitiously glancing over her shoulder towards where the Nameless was headed. "I would have explained myself if we had time."

In response, Yosuke brushed himself off with what she imagined was a wince before shooting her a slow and awkward… What did Lord Hall call that? A thumbs-up? Coordinating with someone who couldn't speak was truly annoying. She hoped that her sensei had a plan to fix Yosuke's voice and let the man talk for himself should they ever need to fight side by side again.

They continued, creeping between the corpses like rats on a great battlefield, occasionally diving under more detritus to save themselves from discovery. It was good that Rin was already long used to the sight of corpses both mundane and magical; she could only imagine the weight this would place on a less hardy mind.

Where did they get the resources to support this many Nameless to begin with? She was no expert, but she found it hard to believe that so many could be created from the wealth of a single town. Perhaps it didn't matter, and she had already seen enough of the disgusting spiders for a few centuries at least.

The piles grew higher as they closed in on their target, and the skittering patrols became more and more frequent. Again and again, Rin and Yosuke had to escape into the corpses before a guard came around the corner of another heap, just barely having the time to get into cover before they were found. Moments felt like hours as they were forced to cower away from foes that didn't know that they passed within mere arm lengths. Yet, their progress could not be stopped, only slowed. 

It was a small mercy that the patrols weren't more dense; the curious nature of space in this place had probably deluded the Greater Nameless into thinking the vile heart of its empire was safe from all but the most powerful.

Poking her head around the corner, Rin saw their destination at long last. Four massive spiders stood guard in front of a large slab of chitinous material that acted as a vault door. The four guards standing attentively on the sides were again far larger than a normal Nameless, and Rin wondered if they were just older and stronger or more intelligent, like their master.

They were intelligent enough to keep the corpse piles well away from the door, at least, so there was no chance that they could use the bodies as cover to get close. The walls above were far too smooth to climb silently, as well. She could see no path forward beside violence.

Pulling back, she glanced over her shoulder to Yosuke, fire fighting in her eyes. "Four of the large guard spiders by a vault gate, two on either side. No cover. Are you ready?"

The only response she got was the man rising into a stance with a small flourish, his blades flashing as he channelled the essence of emptiness itself into them.

Rin nodded, a faint sheen of moisture forming around her sword in turn, and then the pair exploded into wordless motion. 

She did not call out who the Nameless faced, nor list her accomplishments, for that would imply that they were true foes. A healer did not let a parasite know who it faced before excising it.

She rounded the corner first and let the storm raging inside her soul take the reins as she cut through the air itself with a single perfect strike, a crescent of water streaking forth before hardening into a blade of ice. It smashed into the face of the first Nameless, but, unfortunately, it merely broke upon its Aegis rather than cutting it in twain.

The monster still drawing breath was unfortunate, but she had expected it to be stronger than the ordinary ones. 

A chorus of cries echoed from the depths of the creature's throats as they registered that they were under attack, and the four surged to meet them in a storm of long, piercing limbs.

Behind them, a reprise of answers rose from the corpse piles as the patrolling guards were alerted to the intruders by their comrades. They had a few moments before reinforcements arrived.

Before the four guards could meet them in melee, Yosuke sprang into action, cutting the air mere feet in front of them. Unlike Rin's own strike, there was no grand showing of raw strength, not even a visible projectile. Yet, it still landed, impacting the beast she had already weakened across the eyes.

It had taken her some time to figure it out when she first saw his technique on the surface, but it was beautiful in its sheer simplicity.

He used raw emptiness, pure and simple. Yosuke created a construct of his own will to extend his blade, which would normally be a simple trick that had little utility against a peer that dealt little damage to an opponent's Aegis, but then in came the raw elemental emptiness he could output a startling amount of.

By exploiting the give of their flesh in the split second before it crossed into being something that their Aegis needed to protect them from, he formed a wedge in their flesh. Then, he emitted raw, barely refined emptiness into the space, forcing it to either side with supernatural force, less cutting and more tearing his foe at the seams.

Against someone of a higher existence, the trick would be worthless, as they were worlds unto themselves, untouched by everything except what they wished to be.

Against the Nameless, though?

Every single one of the beast's eyes split in two in a spray of thick black, blinded on the spot as it let loose an unearthly shriek. It was disabled, at the very least, flailing wildly as it tried to cut them to pieces, but they had already darted to the side. She would have preferred for its head to split in two, but at the very least, the beast was useless in the upcoming fight.

Three left.

A dozen legs and half as many cleaver-like claws tried to cut them to ribbons as they finally entered melee, but both Rin and Yosuke were faster than the beasts by a league; the only thing that kept them competitive was the sheer amount of limbs they had at their disposal.

They flowed between the strikes like a part of masters dancing between raindrops, deflecting the few strikes that could have landed upon their three blades.

Ten, twenty, thirty blows evaded between heartbeats.

Five, ten, fifteen given in return, weakening their foes as they ruthlessly exploited every opportunity to break down their protections.

The exchange wasn't entirely one-sided, though. By virtue of sheer number, the occasional blow slipped through their pair's guards, landing against their forms. Their Aegises took the blows, but every moment was a bit less energy they had, and every strike threatened to throw them out of position and pry them apart.

Rin sprang forth, diving under the beast after landing a trio of weaker blows upon its head to stun it, carving a deep groove through its carapace as she cut through its armour and into its flesh, lightning dancing along her blade as an old friend.

As she reached the end, she drove the tip of her blade a hair deeper and let heaven's wrath free into the beast's flesh.

The creature's muscles tightened, forcefully contracting, and the sudden motion aggravated its newly open wound, carapace pulling to the side as its insides sloughed out like a split egg.

Two.

Screams echoed out not from their foes, but close behind, the piles behind them slowly coming to life as numerous forms crept over the piles, stalking over the corpses of their own blood. They were running out of time. Rin had hoped that they could kill the four before they had help, but it seemed like she had underestimated them.

"Yosuke! Can you handle the two for a moment?" she called.

The man responded by stabbing the one he was duelling through the leg, crippling the limb with a single blow before pivoting, drawing the healthy one between him and it, while also placing himself between it and the door.

Perhaps she was a bit rough on him when they had first met.

Surging past Yosuke, she grabbed the colossal slab of chitin, fingers digging into the surface as she reinforced not only herself, but where she had gripped, so her new fingerholds didn't come apart.

Sweat beading on her brow, Rin wrenched. The slab was perhaps twenty feet across, and was intended to be rolled aside by some hidden mechanism she didn't have time to find.

Unfortunately for the Nameless, she was far stronger than whatever meagre mechanism they could muster as she forced the dense slab aside with a series of loud cracks, crunching through hidden blockers as she pushed into a hidden groove, mist from the room rushing past her into the opening.

Within the large room was a true hoard, far more than could have been plausibly extracted from the town. Money was piled in a single great pile of gleaming coins far taller than her, and next to it were titanic piles of everything her mind could conjure. Metals. Tools. Books. Scrolls. Finely lacquered wood. Furniture. Even then, the room stretched far enough to make the accumulated wealth look almost small by comparison, having room for much growth under its high, arched roof. Where did it all come from?

Then, at the core, she saw it. Right next to the pile of coins upon its own carved pillar was a necklace with a chain lovingly crafted from platinum, bearing a fang that seemed to be carved from a black cloud.

On instinct, she streaked forward, grabbing it from the pillar and channelled lightning into her blade as she considered where to start beyond removing the obviously valuable jewelry from the hoard. This… was more than expected. How was she going to destroy it all thoroughly and quickly? The books and scrolls were easy, but the metals? She'd need time to melt them down, time that she didn't have, but—

Rin looked at the fog flooding into the room, and an idea came to mind as she recalled her sensei scaring her senseless in the hallway of the ryokan.

"Hold them off a bit longer!" Rin called, shaping the lightning in her blade in a very particular, low-energy state as she began darting around the room. "And try not to cause any sparks!"

Yosuke, who had been forced back to the door by now four Nameless, would have doubtlessly had words for her, had he been able to talk.

As she dashed, she cut water itself into two with unerring focus, splitting it into hydrogen and oxygen with her passage, the lighter gas rising high and getting caught by the roof.

It was not enough. Somehow, Rin knew that her blade was working too slowly, even with her sprinting about to reach as much air as possible. She pulled deeper, falling into her own soul as she channelled energy over her whole form as she carefully extended the effect past the edge of her blade, through the handle, and over her skin.

She performed the sacred art of electrolysis with her whole body, moving at supernatural speeds, darting throughout the room as she converted as much as she could. A curious lightheadedness overtook her, and she could feel herself verging on some greater truth about the storms, about herself, but it remained just barely out of reach.

CLANG!

Spinning her head over, she saw Yosuke tumbling back as a monster's blow crushed his guard and sent him flying, swords flying away from his grasp. Mid-flight, he recovered, drawing two more blades from his skull as he landed on one knee. Still, a tide of a dozen monsters poured through the door, struggling to fit through as the tide was upon them properly.

They couldn't beat that many. It was a good thing they didn't have to.

"Yosuke! We're done, get out of there!" she shouted, running to his side and pulling him to his feet. The man staggered but accepted, shaking off what might have been a concussion for a mortal within moments before following in her wake.

The two surged towards the tide, and the beasts reared up, ready to crush them. Some webs flew past them, which they thankfully dodged, but they didn't stop. Instead, they leapt, arcing through the air as tonnes of monsters and web crushed where they had just been.

As one, they sailed through what little space remained in the door, and Rin spun in mid air, lightning encircling her blade as she prepared a much, much stronger bolt.

With a stab, it flew from her blade, guided by a thin stream of moisture she hastily conjured. It wasn't as bright, nor as straight as one of John's mighty bolts, sure. It was, however, flying straight into a pocket of flammable gas.

Everything went white, and she didn't even hear the explosion.

When she blinked the stars from her eyes, ears ringing like a struck bell, she found herself atop a collapsed pile of corpses. She tried to stagger to her feet, but before she could, she was offered a hand. It was Yosuke, leaning over her. Rin took it, and stumbled to her feet. "Did we…" she began, trailing off.

He merely pointed past her. She followed it.

The vault was in ruins, a terrifying inferno issuing from its now half-collapsed entrance, the bodies piled near the door, too, having gone up like bonfires composed of dried kindling. Even more beautiful, though, were the surviving guards near the entrance.

They were pale, paler than any Nameless she had ever seen. Much of the darkness had fled the shell; instead, it was a pale gray, like an abandoned exoskeleton. As she watched, one of the three survivors reared up over another, which struggled to rise, and brought its claws down upon its head.

Despite everything, a smile crept onto Rin's face.

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Necessary Sacrifice

(Galou POV)

"...Excuse me? Could you repeat that?"

There it was. After fruitlessly picking at Councilwoman Lana's poker face and politician's smile all this time, Councilman Galou had finally gotten to see emotion leak into her expressions.

It was admittedly only with the help of the Ramelle Councilwoman Delle, but it's not like he has to share the generator blueprints with her or anything. As long as he was here and participated in this private meeting between councilmembers, he could take credit.

In addition to himself, Councilwoman Lana of the Terrans, Ambassador Garag of the Uvei, and Councilwoman Delle of the Ramelle were gathered at this private meeting room on the S.S. Kevak to discuss the matter of the Terran's ship ending up in restricted space.

"If I must. I will speak slowly for you this time."

If not for Delle's flattened ears showing her annoyance, her tone could be taken as disinterested.

"In summary, we will not accept any Terran or Uven visitors for the trespassers we have detained. We will also not accept any devices without thorough inspection and test run at a certified Coalition entity for security purposes."

"What if we sent schematics for the devices for you to create and operate yourselves? We'll even buy them at cost from you afterwards if you have no further use for it."

"Digital blueprints also bear a cybersecurity risk. We would need to analyze the code on an isolated device first."

"Please, be reasonable. I'm going to have to insist that we at least take back-"

"Stop it right there!"

Councilman Galou snapped at the Terran to interrupt her. This was the part he was here for.

"I'll have you know that the Ramell are friends and good neighbors to the Pateily. If you take overbearing action against them for your own convenience, we will interpret that as hostilities and are prepared to declare war in defense of our less aggressive friends."

""!?""

The pair opposite the table from him reacted with visible shock. Garag's tail raised up stiffly and Lana's eyes had widened.

He had to make a real effort to suppress the sense of smug satisfaction. The lizard might not be familiar with how Pateily emoted, but the Terran was definitely brushed up on the subject.

This other simian species was a slippery sort that kept weaving through his approaches with their idea of diplomacy, but they were cowards that feared conflict at heart.
What they failed to understand was the ability to project, command, and leverage military might, real or not, was also an essential component of diplomacy.

"I was under the impression that the Pateily International Parliament needed majority approval for a declaration of war with another spacefaring species. Do you really have the sort of authority to call for something like that?"

Case in point, Councilwoman Lana immediately tried to worm her way out of this with technicalities and the authority of other people. It didn't even surprise Galou that she was versed in this aspect of a foreign governance.

"Of course. We already have a majority agreement to act in defense of our allies."

"And this can be verified if my office directly inquires with Pateily Parliament members?"

"Do as you wish. As a favor, I'll pretend I'm not offended by the insinuation."

"........."

Well, perhaps her knowledge was still shallow.

These new advanced fusion generators had the makings of a patent worth an entire industry's worth of wealth and there was no shortage of party members or corporate entities that wanted preferential treatment.

His aide was still at the cradle planet of Tiireya and had direct lines to many of those people. A few calls are all it would take to persuade even the opposition party to pass the vote long before any Terran inquiries could reach them.

It seemed this development really shut that woman up. While she went quiet, Ambassador Garag spoke up in the Terran's place.

"Getting back on topic...the twelve Terrans suffering from poisoning in your custody can't afford to wait for long. You are aware that they will die without medical intervention, yes?"

"And we shall endeavor to give them the best medical intervention we are capable of...within our established security guidelines. Since we have been provided with the diagnosis by the captain of the ship in question, we are creating the required detoxification medicines and devices as we speak."

Galou knew that something like that would take at least three cycles even if it was a priority. And, judging from the Councilwoman Lana reaction, that was too long.

"Is there no exception for emergencies?"

"This incident is being treated as a case of trespassing, which does not fit the administrative definition of "emergency". There has yet to be an official ruling yet, but it will likely be regarded as a non-malicious incident."

It was a bit troublesome that the Uven Ambassador got to stick his nose in this thanks to some unexpected refugees being let on the Terran ship, but as long as the lizards in custody were properly cared for, the Elder Council shouldn't complain.

Perhaps they could even instigate a rift with the obviously disparate treatments.

"But you still bear a responsibility to care for prisoners."

"Which we will achieve with meticulously prepared living accommodations, nutritional supplements tailored to the species, and a promise of protection from violence."

"Surely that should also include a reasonable effort to prevent the loss of life?"

"Indeed, but for us, 'reasonable' means-"

"Fine."

"Miss Lana...?!"

Councilwoman Lana broke her silence with a single word that had Garag agitated.

"If you feel so strongly about stopping the admission of foreign technology, then we have no choice but to give up. Whe-if the afflicted Terrans pass away, can we expect you to preserve and deliver their bodies for our funeral customs?"

"...of course."

It seemed that both Councilwoman Delle and the Uven ambassador weren't expecting the Terran to relent, but Galou wasn't surprised.

"Speaking of which, about those miners. It seems there was some unfortunate incident at the prison regarding four of them."

"............"

"Shall we preserve their bodies and send them your way as well?"

"...Yes, I'll have my assistant send you coordinates to drop them off."

The Councilman knew they dreaded war and conflict to the point of cowardice.

Not that he respected it. If anything, this proved they were crippling their own diplomatic ability. It was a bit of an embarrassment that they were simians, really.

But perhaps this was the new angle to attack. If it became widely known that the Terran government was incapable of protecting their people, their public order would decline and certain opportunistic groups might smell blood in the water.

That could be enough to keep them busy and the Elder Council happy.

That little attack originally intended as simple harassment turned out far better for the Pateily than he could have planned.

"Now...let us move on to the final matter for this meeting."

....?

"I would like for everyone here to keep this information private for now, even from any staff or trusted friends."

The Terran Councilwoman opened up a page on her data pad and slid it across the table. On it was...a serial number and specs?

....!!

Galou forcefully suppressed his surprise and took the initiative to casually ask before anyone else could.

"What's this supposed to be?"

"This is from the unknown pirates that attacked our humanitarian fleet. After combing through all the recordings and data logs, we were able to piece one of the ship's energy signature and serial number together. From that, we were able to deduce the ship's make and model."

"I see...Resourceful as always. It takes some focus to scan for that information in the midst of attack."

The Uven eyes the information curiously and praised the Terrans' efforts.

The Pateily Councilman, on the other hand, was silently cursing the crew's carelessness. How hard is it to mask your ship's information? Or at least cover the serial number before engaging in banditry?

...No matter. It should still be safe, because...

"Unfortunately, this was an older model and the manufacturer went under a few cycles ago, so the authorities are still in the process of recovering the owner information."

Their preparations should have been thorough enough to avoid recognition in the first place. Even if the Terrans got lucky, they shouldn't find anything to incriminate anyone beyond the leased soldiers they catch in the act.

"Since it will take a while and the incident happened near Ramell and Pateily space, I'm hoping you two might have some leads or records on our assailants. Have you had any encounters with these types of pirates in your territories? Even similar energy signatures will do."

The Ramell Councilwoman skimmed the number before leaning back in her seat dully. Galou didn't know the details, but she should also have made a deal with the Ramell's patron to drag the Terrans down. She wouldn't cooperate here.

"No, this is new. But I shall pass it along to patrols so they keep vigilant."

"Hmph. Trying to ride our coattails now, are you? I suppose it's also in our best interests to eliminate troublemakers. But no. I can tell at a glance that nothing resembling this ever came across my desk."

...It would be fine. Elder Councilman Gohlti was also implicated in this. The crew was borrowed from the Fendansi, but the ship officially belonged to the Pateily administration.

Galou could notify him. They would tamper with the records during the restoration process and delete the mercenary contract.

The Terran pressed a bit harder.

"Are you...sure? It doesn't have to be just from troublemakers either. Perhaps the culprits stole the vessel or salvaged a decommissioned one."

Was she...pressing harder? Did she suspect them...?

"I'm telling you we don't recognize it. Perhaps you Terrans have a more...frugal operation, but we don't keep such cheap vessels in our fleet and the energy signature is unique enough to leave an impression."

"....."

Lana nodded slowly. He didn't like the way she stared at him. Terrans had a way of looking into the eyes. Apparently it was a trait of sociability.

"...I see. I apologize if you took offense. It was worth asking at least. Then, while we're on the subject..."

There's more!?

The councilwoman tapped her data pad and pulled up a star chart with highlighted spaces marking their territories.

"We shall promise to stay out of restricted Pateily and Ramell spaces and we will not engage with any ships besides this specific recorded culprit and its confirmed allies. In exchange, will you yield jurisdiction of this matter over to us? These pirates have caused us quite some grief and we wish to bring them to justice under our laws."

Oh.

What a farce. Did they plan to ask one of their more combative friends to perform the actual arrest in their place? Were they trying to look tough after being forced to yield on the matter of the trespassers?

Galou elected to push back a bit. As long as the attackers had a safe area to escape to, he could call them to an isolated military base and have them silenced.

"Not just restricted spaces. I've already said before that I don't find you Terrans trustworthy. You're not permitted in any Pateily space without explicit permission. If you find them in our territory, you're just going to have to contact us and let us handle the rest."

Delle's reached out to the data pad and expanded the highlighted ranges for both their species.

"I concur with Galou. You are to avoid any of this space. I will have a hard time believing any future incidents are accidental after you've been warned."

"Very well. Then with the exceptions of the highlighted spaces as established here, we shall hold the full rights to arrest and prosecute our attackers, but only our attackers. The Terrans can accept these terms."

Seemingly intending for that to be the final word, Councilwoman Lana saved the map as marked on her data pad and stood to leave.

Well, that was fine. While she saved the contents of this meeting in official records, Councilman Galou needed to make sure all his tracks were covered.

(Garag POV)

It was an odd feeling to feel pleased that his people were being confined. Especially when their benefactors were subjected to the same fate under much less pleasant circumstances.

Ambassador Garag never expected to feel intergalactic law could ever feel convenient instead of restrictive.
Though perhaps his visit and the multiple parties witnessing confirmation helped.

Although the hundred and six Uvei weren't free to leave Ramell custody or supervision, it was hardly a restriction for them. As refugees escaping their war-torn home, it wasn't like they had specific destinations in mind when they left other than "away from danger".

In exchange for their freedom, this arrangement meant their safety was guaranteed, they would be fed and sheltered, and they had all the time they needed to rest.

With the sudden influx of first-time refugees, Folstur's immigration system was already stretched thin, so it was like the Ramell were buying time, even.

He was a bit anxious about whether they would get sufficient accommodations, but it seems they were being kept in the same facility as the able-bodied humans.

Councilwoman Lana assured him that Captain Borlaug was versed in galactic law on the minimum required care for military prisoners, and thus would ensure nothing was lacking.
Garag had concluded from personal interactions with the good captain that he was a prudent man. The fact that he had surrendered to the Ramell at all was as good as a vote of confidence in this arrangement.

Lana also assured him that, because division between humans and Uvei was among their goals, they would likely give the Uvei detainees preferential treatment; as long as the humans made sure they got the bare minimum, his people would get "more than the minimum".

...

He didn't know where his colleague learned that, but hoped that wasn't the reason the twelve humans were being neglected. She hadn't spoken since they concluded the meeting.

To be honest, he expected the sly humans to have something else up their sleeves based on what he'd seen of them thus far. It was only when he saw Lana's somber expression that it occurred to him she was sincerely ready to let her own die.

The humans he knew were stubborn and showed a deep respect for life at every turn, so it caught him off-guard.

"Welcome back, Ms. Rogov. Mr. Vedin. How did the meeting go?"

The two of them had walked together out of the council chambers to the private docks, where one of her personal aides stood waiting for them. He believed the man's name was...Shi Xi?

"Ah...well...it seems you may have to give up on the twelve poisoning victims. Councilor Delle refused to back down and Councilor Galou threatened war if we pushed."

Since his colleague remained silent, the Uven elected to report the result in her place.

"I see...well, we can figure it out our next move inside. But before that...here's the manifest for Uvei soldiers, Mr. Vedin."

"Ah...thank you."

Garag accepted a document from Shi Xi. This was something else he had been preparing with the humans. Or rather, something the humans have been preparing for him.

It was a list of Uvei that surrendered to the humanitarian force and agreed to return with them. In other words, enemy soldiers-turned-sympathizers. Somehow, the humans in the Terran administration talked them into returning to Nysis.

He didn't know how or why because he did not ask. Because he was bound to service for Karnak, there were some things that he was better off not knowing.

The humans had earned his trust enough for him to believe it would be for the benefit of his people, and that was sufficient. He "negotiated for their return", and that's all he would have to report on the matter to his...superior.

...That said. He couldn't help but be curious at times. He may as well ask if it will take her mind off those twelve humans.

"Lana, if you don't mind me asking, what were you...setting up during the talks about the ship information?"

"? Oh, you noticed that? Come in and I'll explain. This is a good chance to catch my team up as well."

With a light smile, she gestured for Garag to follow her into their ship. Since Kent's injury and Lana's promotion, the humans had begun working in locations outside their embassy.

Once they entered, the door behind them let out an electric locking noise as soundproofing barriers came up behind the door and walls. Together, the three of them went into what seemed to be an office space where 30 other people worked.

The moment the councilwoman entered the room, all eyes fell on her expectantly. What was going on...?

Lana cleared her throat.

"I've confirmed that Galou is the culprit behind the attack."

"Wha-!?"

"I see. Then we'll move forward with our preparations."

"I knew it!"

"Well, it wasn't exactly a longshot."

Shi Xi wasn't the only one that responded with a composed smirk. Not one of them showed surprise at the statement. If anything, they seemed to release some tension from the anticipation as they resumed their regular paperwork.

"How...Did you already suspect the Pateily?"

Lana let out her usual refined laugh.

"Well, Galou has hardly been subtle about how much he wants to antagonize the Terrans, even for a personal agenda."

"And you...confirmed it? With that meeting just now?"

"You wanted to know about the ship information, right? It's pretty simple."

She pat his back and guided him to a seat in the room.

"Simply put, it was a bluff to fish for a reaction. We had no such information recorded in the encounter. What I gave them was exactly the specs of some gunships he owns off the record. The trail to their most recent location and use was erased, but his reaction helped connect the dots for us."

Ah...

Galou directly lied about not knowing information he by all rights should have recognized and disavowed any connection. It was an incredibly guilty response.

"We'll keep tracking his and his associate's movements for attempts to cover their tracks too, of course. Just to be sure."

"Do you intend to expose him once you secure the proof?"

Garag's tail swayed thoughtfully.

"The current plan is to first take that ship when we can find it."

"We can't give him time to hide it out of our reach, after all."

One of the desk workers chimed in and another followed suit.

Yes...that made sense.

"Actually, if Pateily territory is expecting that ship, then we could probably launch a little revenge raid of our own on one of their bases if we capture enough of them."

"No. We don't initiate hostile action like that. That's the sort of thing that creates grudges and fuels wars."

A third one added a suggestion, though Lana quickly shot it down with a frown.

The Uven shuffled awkwardly.

"Pardon. Should I be hearing this? I can take my leave if you're moving on to discuss future strategies."

The councilwoman shook her head with a soft smile returning to her face.

"No, it's fine. Don't be afraid to tell that Karnak about this if you have to."

What did that mean? Were they "fishing for information" again? Was it just not relevant?

Sometimes, these humans were hard to read.

The desk worker that spoke up earlier rested his head on a palm.

"Honestly though, it seems like that's where we're headed, isn't it? This guy has been trying to fight with us for weeks. It should be fine if we leave no traces, right? As long as he knows it's us, hitting the fatty apes hard and fast to teach them a lesson might finally get him to back off. Or at least let us check out their military tech before we come to blows."

That also made some sense, he supposed. Taking the initiative when they had it would reduce any damages they suffer.

""...!!""

Lana abruptly let out a deep sigh.

THUD.

"Mmph-!?"

"Wha-?!"

Garag jumped back on reflex as several of the humans leapt from their seats and forcefully dragged one of their own out of his. He was gagged and quickly pinned to the ground.

Shi Xi had drawn a pistol and was down on one knee to press it against the base of the restrained human's neck. His gaze, as was those of any desk worker who wasn't actively participating, was fixed on Lana.

What was going on...?

She slowly circled in front of the crowd and looked the pinned human in the eye.

"I tried to brush it off since we have a guest here, you know? Are you new? Even if you are, you should have received training for this already."

Somehow, Garag was reminded of his first proper meeting with Kent when they first locked eyes. Back then he was surprised by the lack of common emotions low-aggression species had in response to seeing an Uven.

This one was different. Lana wasn't indifferent as she stared down her subordinate, but she also didn't show any other emotion that he could decipher. Like he was meeting an alien for the first time and had no knowledge of their non-verbal cues.

"Mmph!?"

She spoke slowly and with a level voice as she knelt down.

"Let me spell it out. As representatives of humanity, we do not and must not initiate or escalate hostilities with other species. We don't start wars. We don't hit someone just because they hit us first. When we encounter a matter of life or death..."

Lana suddenly reached out and grabbed a fistful of the clerk's hair, wringing out another muffled yelp when she pulled his head back.

"We choose the option that deescalates away from war."

...Oh.

Garag...thought he had come to understand the humans by now. Their strength. Their gentleness. Their care. Their peacefulness.

"It's too bad because you do good work, but we obviously can't keep you around anymore. But we can't exactly let you go either, so let's put you in the brig until I have time to figure out what to do with you."

But it wasn't merely their nature. It was...intentional. It was a constant effort. It was a fact that they abhorred war, but how much of that was an active effort to hate it?

The Terran Councilwoman rose back to her feet whilst dusting herself off. The former subordinate was sedated by Shi Xi and dragged off.

"Sorry about this, Garag. I've put a real killjoy in our evening, haven't I?"

"...No, I think that was...an illuminating experience."

"That was pretty embarrassing."

He hadn't ever thought of the humans as extreme before. Intense, perhaps, but not to this extent. When it is said they hate war, they hated war madly. They would cut their own flesh to spite it. They w...They would let twelve of their own die to protect against it.

Could Garag do that? Was it feasible by the numbers? Is...

"Is something like this...the price of acquiring peace?"

=Author's Note=

I've had a scene like this in mind since I introduced Lana to contrast with Kent. Even though the two of them were friends and shared similar ideals, the original ambassador would have firmly but peacefully corrected the staff member here so they could do better.
A humanity that has people like Lana or Jacey isn't going to be an unproblematic version of mankind, but they can do their best and hopefully it's people like Asher or Kent that set the example.

There have been many a scrapped line where I've had to go "whoa there, that's too much character progression or themes for you to say", so it has also been nice that Garag has the maturity and intelligence to actually observe and monologue the scene plainly.

This is part of my personal worldbuilding and conlanging project called The Lonely Galaxy. I have other stories, but this is probably the one most suited to this sub.

Alien speech is enclosed in Italian quotes («»).

“…another record-breaking afternoon, with temperatures throughout the region surpassing the 90-degree mark. A cold front is set to bring relief to central and southeast Texas later this evening but looks like there may be some severe weather along with the cooler temperatures. The Storm Prediction Center has issued a tornado watch for the region until early tomorrow morning. Now it’s time for your local forecast.” Sarah let the smooth jazz drifting out of the TV wash over her and sank deeper into the couch cushions. Her eyes stung with sweat rolling down from her forehead. Without looking, she reached over and grabbed a wrinkled shirt from the laundry basket next to the couch and wiped her brow. Her eyes were laser-focused on the wall clock, watching the seconds crawl by. “4:30,” she thought. “He was supposed to be here by 4 o’clock.” She closed her eyes and tried to relax. The maintenance guy had forsaken her. Only the sweet embrace of unconsciousness could provide respite from the heat now.

She was dragged out of her blissful slide into oblivion by the sharp click-clack of claws on the hard linoleum floor. It was the halting, rhythmless gait of one unaccustomed to walking on two feet. The clicking was replaced by the sound of a tail dragging along the living room rug, desperately trying to prevent its owner from falling backwards.

She looked up at the cause of the disturbance. Two six-toed paws were digging into the carpet, and a prehensile tail was wrapped around one of the legs of the coffee table, all in an effort to keep the creature before her upright. Its lupine maw was agape, purple tongue hanging off to the side, twitching in time with the creature’s panting breath. Its wet nose was drinking up a mélange of odors that Sarah couldn’t hope to perceive. Its erect, triangular ears swiveled about, absorbing the soundscape of the room. Wrapped in its forelimbs, clutched tightly to the ruddy flesh of its chest was a ponderous tome. «Great news!» the creature growled cheerfully as it deposited the book onto the coffee table with a thud.

“You figured out how to fix the air conditioner?” Sarah sighed.

With a padded finger the creature tapped the cover, which bore the title ‘Comprehensive Introduction to Biochemistry’. «At least according to this book here our food should be safe for human consumption.»

“That’s nice, Sunshine.”

«You don’t smell very excited.»

“It’s nearly 95 degrees inside, and it’s already half an hour past the window that the leasing office gave me for the maintenance guy to come fix the AC. Forgive me for not being head-over-heels with enthusiasm.”

Sunshine flicked her ears back. «I’m a healer, not a mechanic. But speaking of food, I think I may have a little something that’ll help you beat the heat.» Her curiosity piqued, Sarah leaned forward as Sunshine produced a small carton from a pocketed band wrapped around her right foreleg. “This is a little snack from back home on Hearthside. From the carton she produced a small translucent strip which she placed on her pendulous tongue. She drew her tongue back into her mouth for a moment, allowing the strip to dissolve. After a few seconds, Sunshine dropped back onto all fours, shook her head vigorously, then resumed panting.

Sarah caught the strong scent of menthol on her breath. “Just a breath mint?” Sunshine came from a desert of eternal noon, a planet perpetually sweltering under the gaze of an unconquerable sun. Her species had subdued their entire solar system dozens of millennia before humans had even discovered agriculture. The Yinrih could bridge the yawning gulf between stars, but the best thing they could come up with to cool off was a Listerine strip?

«Oh, it’s a little stronger than that. Go on, try one.» Sunshine pinched another strip between her outer thumb and writing claw, flicking the little snack with another digit in a manner Sarah assumed was supposed to be enticing. She paused, her eyes darting between the textbook on the table, the little hairless monkey fox standing in front of her, and the consumable held in her paw. A dialog played out in her mind.

“Are you really going to put that thing in your mouth?”

“It’s just a breath strip, why not?”

“An ALIEN breath strip. It could kill you for all you know, slowly and painfully, too.”

Sarah regarded Sunshine again. She had been holding that snack out for a good thirty seconds. “Guess when you’ve got five centuries ahead of you, you can afford to be a bit more patient," She thought.

“She IS a licensed medical professional…”

“A licensed ALIEN medical professional.”

A bead of sweat rolled down her cheek, reminding her that the air conditioner was still broken and that it likely wouldn’t be fixed today. “Eh, YOLO!” Her curiosity had won the day. Sarah plucked the snack from the alien’s claws and popped it in her mouth.

The strip quickly dissolved on her tongue, leaving behind a cooling sensation. So far, so mundane. Sarah leaned back into the couch, chuckling to herself as she contemplated how old this stuff had to be, older than the US constitution, at the very least, given how long it took Sunshine and the others to get to Earth from Focus. Maybe she could start a YouTube channel eating ancient alien junk food. Still, though, it didn't really take her mind off the heat.

Just as her disappointment began to set in, the cold feeling in her mouth began to intensify. The sensation had started as though chewing a normal piece of spearmint gum, but had progressed to chewing a particularly potent piece of spearmint gum. After a few seconds, it became chewing a particularly potent piece of spearmint gum while chugging ice water. "OK, now this is getting uncomfortable," Sarah thought. "Well, it ''is'' getting my mind off the heat. Now all I can think about is my mouth freezing." The cold feeling cascaded down her chest and into her gut, then began radiating to the rest of her body.

The roof of her mouth started throbbing in pain, which then radiated to her forehead. She tried powering through the pain by sheer force of will. "It isn't real," she thought. "I'm not really cold. It's just a chemical tricking my nerves into thinking I'm cold." Through eyes tearing up in pain she caught a glimpse of the wall clock. It had only been twenty seconds since she had put that cursed strip on her tongue. She no longer felt like she was chugging ice water, now it felt like shoveling Antarctic snow into her mouth.

«Are you OK?» Sunshine whined. Sarah caught the concern in her voice but was too busy writhing in agony to pat herself on the back for achieving this milestone in human-yinrih communication. "I'm... fine..." she gasped. Sarah swore she could see clouds of super-cooled condensation billowing out of her mouth with each syllable.

It wasn't Antarctic snow anymore, now it was liquid nitrogen. She hunched forward in her seat, then collapsed onto the floor between the couch and coffee table. Through cryogenic tears Sarah could see Sunshine's large ears and muzzle hanging over her.

The penny finally dropped. Sunshine whipped around and bolted down the hallway, her claws skittering on the slippery floor. She failed to turn in time and ran bodily into the back wall, then managed to gain enough traction to dart into the erstwhile office that now served as her quarters.

Sarah could hear her frantically barking one of the traditional healer's invocations as she rummaged through her things looking for whatever implements might prove most useful. Sunshine had demonstrated several of these little rituals to her over the time she had been lodging with her. They were remnants of a time when the office of cleric and healer were still one. The particular invocation used largely depended on how severe the situation was. The one Sunshine chose did not buoy Sarah's confidence in her outcome.

«O Creator of the universe, paws and tail hast thou none, yet wield me, wretched whelp that I am, as thy instrument here within, and wrest this least of thy little ones from the jaws of death.»

Sarah was audibly whimpering now. Her vision began to fade. It felt as though her entire digestive tract was filled top to bottom with liquid helium. The blessed embrace of oblivion finally took her, but not before she saw Sunshine scampering back down the hall toward the living room, The end of her tail coiled around the handle of a satchel that was bouncing along the floor behind her.

Manny glanced at the clock on the dashboard as he pulled into the parking space. 4:36 PM. He was over half an hour late for his last appointment of the day, and a mere 24 minutes away from the nominal end of his shift. He pulled the key out of the ignition and opened the door, the perspiration-soaked back of his work shirt peeling away from his skin as he moved to exit the truck. The hot Texas air greeted him as he alighted the vehicle, a welcome respite from the even hotter air inside the cab. He shut the door, perhaps a bit more forcefully than necessary. He turned to look at the apartment number written atop the front door. Unit 38. He glanced down at the work order affixed to his clipboard and sighed. "Unit 38: Broken air conditioner". He definitely wasn't clocking out on time today. At least he'd get paid overtime. He tucked the clipboard under his arm and walked up to the door.

Sunshine took a deep breath, letting the sharp smell of alcohol fill her nostrils. Sarah's unconscious form was sprawled out on the floor before her, her left arm draped across her chest, rising and falling steadily with each breath. The contents of Sunshine's satchel were strewn across the coffee table: a just-used bottle of paw disinfectant, yellowed only slightly by its two and a half century stowage inside one of the Dewfall's cargo holds, and an electric healer's razor, also none the worse for wear despite its age. The remaining item she had seen fit to include in her impromptu medical bag, a human anatomy text recently borrowed from the college library, lay open on the floor at her side.

«OK, Sunshine, you can do this. Everything's going to be alright. Sarah's going to be alright, alright?» She began a cursory examination of her friend. She slid a pair of azure bandpass membranes over her eyes, shifting her visible spectrum down into the infrared. «Her temperature hasn't changed, and she's still breathing. That's good. First thing's first...» She picked up the razor, only to change her mind and place it back on the coffee table. «No no, that's not right. No fur. Why did I bring this thing anyway?» She began thumbing through the book with her right rear paw. She was greeted by incomprehensible diagrams and labels written in a dead human language she didn't understand. What little confidence she had been able to muster ebbed away with the turn of each page.

«Light blind me!» She kicked the book under the coffee table and crumpled to the ground, heedless of her now contaminated forepaws. «I can't do this by myself. My ignorance got her into this mess. I'll only make things even worse. She needs a human healer.» Just as she rose to her feet, there was a knock at the door.

"Maintenance," Manny declared in his best customer service voice. The tenant's dog skittered its way toward the source of the noise. Without so much as a "down, boy!" from the resident within, the door burst open. Manny braced himself for a physical encounter with yet another pet far too large to be kept in an apartment. When the assault was not forthcoming, he glanced down at the open doorway.

His mood immediately brightened. "One of our little visitors!" He thought. Manny had seen her walking around the neighborhood many times, all wrapped up in a white cloak with only her ebony paws and snout poking out. He had heard through the grape vine that she was some sort of doctor, but didn't know much else. He had always wanted to meet her, but could never find the courage to start a conversation. What do you say to an alien? The mundane happenings of a broke college student who had never even been out of state must seem terribly dull to someone who was born under a different sun. Now he found himself thrust into this little first contact, at a loss for words. He had just settled on a simple "Good afternoon, ma'am" when she started yipping and growling frantically. She wrapped her tail around his forearm and began attempting to drag him inside. Attempting, but not succeeding. The only way he was getting free of her grip was if she decided to let go, but her claws scrabbled uselessly across the hard floor of the entry way, failing to find purchase against the slick surface.

«By The Light! Another human! Please, sir, I need your help. My friend is in trouble.»

"Hay! Slow down. I don't speak space doggo," Manny protested.

Sunshine stopped her fruitless attempt at pulling Manny inside and glanced down at her empty paw. She had been making her desperate supplications in Commonthroat. Without disengaging her tail from Manny's arm, she reared up and grabbed a keyer and HUD specs that were nestled along with Sarah's keys and wallet in a bowl atop the entry table. She wrapped the keyer in her right front paw and donned the HUD specs, the claws of her left rear paw clicking impatiently against the floor as she waited for the computer to boot.

"Sir," said the keyer held in her paw, "Please, I need your help. My friend is in trouble."

Manny stood back up and attempted to enter the apartment. Sunshine's tail was still constricting his arm like a snake. "OK, what's going on?" he asked. "And can I have my arm back?" Sunshine refused to let go until he had entered and shut the door behind him. Keyer in paw, she knuckle-walked around the breakfast bar and into the living room, Manny following behind.

As he rounded the corner he noticed Sarah lying on the floor. Sunshine kept switching her gaze between Manny and Sarah, as though expecting he would immediately know what to do.

"OK, calm down and tell me what happened," said Manny.

More urgent yipping and huffing from Sunshine. «I... I didn't think it would be a problem. We breathe the same air, drink the same water. This book here,» she pointed at the biochemistry textbook with her muzzle, «says you humans consume proteins, carbohydrates, lipids, sugars, amino acids... all the same stuff we eat. I didn't think it would hurt to share a little snack.» she swept her tail angrily across the corner of the coffee table, knocking off the little carton of cooling strips.

"Mind repeating that in English?" said Manny as he bent down and picked up the carton, turning it over in his hand, examining the alien lettering on the label as though it would provide a solution.

Sunshine repeated her self-recrimination via the synth while Manny took the time to examine Sarah. He noticed her hand resting over her chest, gently rising and falling in regular time with her breathing.

Sunshine's ears perked up in sudden realization. "Don't you have emergency medical transport?" She grabbed Sarah's phone from the arm rest and attempted to unlock it. The gentle tick-tick of her claws on the glass failed to elicit a response from the device. «How do you use this stupid thing?» She had just figured out to touch the glass with the pad of her writing claw when Manny rested the phone from her paws. Sunshine gave voice to a frustrated hiss like an angry goose. «Hay! I was using that!»

"Hold on there," said Manny. "Let's not get the wee-yoo wagon involved if we don't have to."

"What?! Why not? She needs a human doctor," Sunshine said, desperately wishing she could inject more emotion into the tiny synthesizer.

Manny took a few seconds to respond, considering whether now was a good time to introduce Sunshine to the particulars of the American healthcare system. "Well, I'm a human, and you're a doctor. I think we can figure this out between the two of us. Besides," he said as he bent down and checked Sarah's pulse, pressing two fingers against her other wrist sprawled on the floor, "I happen to be an Eagle Scout, ''and'' I have the First Aid merit badge." He made this declaration as though that made him a reasonable stand-in for a paramedic. "She's breathing fine, her temperature feels good, and her pulse is normal."

Sunshine's agitation at Manny's lack of urgency began to mount. She started thumping her tail on the floor. Her anxiety caused a momentary lapse in her English proficiency. "What reason you human do nothing? On that floor this my friend die!"

"I'm not 'do nothing'," he said. "I think I know exactly what will fix her right up." He walked over to the kitchen, grabbed a cup from the counter, and began filling it with cold water from the fridge.

Sarah floated content in a featureless void, finally free of the extremes of hot and cold. She could stay like this forever. Snatches of English and Commonthroat bubbled up from the abyss. She didn't catch what the voices were saying, but a vague notion of concern tickled the back of her mind. She brushed it aside and continued drifting in this room-temperature sea of beautiful nothingness.

But her repose didn't last. A sudden shock of wet and cold tore her away from the lukewarm void. She came to, sputtering and swearing. The first things she saw were Sunshine's lapis lazuli bandpass membranes staring back at her. She bolted upright, her head barely missing the edge of the coffee table.

Sunshine pressed the top of her skull against Sarah's shoulder. «You're alright! Light shine upon all of us, you're alright! I thought you were dying!»

"Why did you do that? I was finally asleep!" Sarah glanced down at the water dripping onto the collar of her tee shirt.

«That wasn't me.» said Sunshine. She trotted over to Manny and repeated her cranial gesture of gratitude with the knee of his blue jeans.

"Maintenance," Manny repeated. "Sorry I'm late. Your friend let me in. Are you OK?"

"Well, insofar as I'm not dying, yes." She looked at the wall clock. "I wasn't even out for ten minutes."

"Glad to hear it. Now let's see about that air conditioner."

Manny got to work, checking the thermostat and then the compressor outside. Sunshine shadowed him all the while, peppering him with questions about everything he did and every tool he pulled out of his bag.

"I'm surprised you're so interested in what I'm doing," Manny said. "I figured you monkey foxes think we're cavemen banging rocks together."

"You humans are so fascinating! The way you're built, the fact your forepaws are completely specialized for grasping and your rear paws are optimized for movement, how you've compensated for your lack of an innate ability to write, and how all that effects the tools you use, and how you construct your buildings and vehicles. Plus it's nice to be around people with almost as little fur as me!"

"But, like, there are others, right? Out there? We can't possibly be THAT interesting," said Manny as he put away his tools.

"Nope." said Sunshine.

"Nope? What do you mean."

"There's nobody else out there. We Wayfarers have been looking for other sophonts for nearly one hundred thousand years. Until we found you we hadn't encountered so much as a microbe."

Manny stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants. "So It's just you monkey foxes and us humans, all alone?"

"Seems that way." she responded.

"That... actually makes me feel kinda lonely."

"Believe me, we know the feeling. But now we can be lonely together!"

Thunder murmured in the distance. Manny looked toward the horizon, where storm clouds were gathering. "I need to let Sarah know I'm done and get out of here before that nasty weather hits.

He knocked on the window behind the compressor. "Is it working?" he asked. Sarah gave a thumbs up. "Awesome. Let the office know if something else happens. I gotta get going." He picked up his bag and started making his way to the truck, with Sunshine trotting behind.

"Listen, it was great to finally meet you, I've seen you walking around in that cloak of yours but I never knew how to say hi. I didn't even know you could speak our language with that computer in your hand."

"I'm happy you came by when you did. Come say hi when I'm out walking, and I can start teaching you Commonthroat." She set the keyer aside and shook a cramp out of her paw. "The more humans that understand Commonthroat, the less I need to use this blasted keyer."

Manny gave a thumbs up and pulled out of the parking space. Sunshine went back inside just as the gust front from the distant squall sighed through the trees.

First | Previous | Next

“Starfinder is on the railing,” Selithian whispered from where he crouched near the edge of the small inner woods.  Mekron had set up a silencing perimeter spell to keep their chatter from going any further, but being quiet didn’t hurt.  His little strike team had dressed all in black tight leather or cloth for tonight’s mission.  Even Marianna had dressed like she meant business.  The only true mark of color were the huge, silvered knuckledusters that Vrak wore on his fists just in case he needed to knock some obedience into their targeted beast.

Endria always wore black robes, so she hadn’t needed anything special.  Selithian wished she didn’t wear her hood all the time because she was a stunning Dhampir.  Mekron was up in the tree, ready to toss one large entrapment stretch net that could wrap up two targets in one easy cast.  They figured that dragon of hers would follow and now they were ready to eliminate that whimsy with a dispel magic scroll that Loddian held at the ready. 

“I see her.  She’s up and looking around.  That big crystal strapped to Starfinder’s back is working perfectly, Loddian.  Slowly… there you go… you smell it.  You know you want it… take the bait… take the bait… uuuhhhh… Endria?”

 “What is it!?!” Endria whispered at him harshly.

“Why would a mage get naked?  I mean, she just tossed off her sleeping shift and while I don’t mind the smoke show, she’s coming onto the balcony naked.  Do mages like to run through the streets like that or something?”

“Maybe she’s just a pervert?” Marianna chimed in unhelpfully.

“If we take her, think she might be grateful enough to have some fun with us?  She’s hot, with a capital H.”

Endria punched his arm, “Keep your dick in your pants and your mind on the job!”

“Fine.  Yeah. Whatever.  I’ll drop the first crystal on the railing then bait her down the balcony… ohhhhh shit.  Ohhhhh Shit!  Ooooohhhh no, oooh fucking shit!  I just found out why she’s naked!  Get ready!  Get ready!  She’s coming!”

Selithian turned to the others, his beast sight still glowing green in his eyes, “She’s shapeshifted into a monster and is chasing Starfinder!  She’s flying straight here!  I’m barely able to stay ahead of her!  Get the fucking net and spells ready!  Now! Vrak and Mekron, back me up if this shit goes sideways!”

The others jolted but did as they were told.  Greed was a bigger motivator to them than fear.

They all turned to the center of the little open patch of wood to wait.  “Almost….” Selithian whispered shakily.  “Almost… five… four… three… two…”

The large black crow landed, dropped the bag of arcana crystals it’d held, then flapped in fear because something bigger was just behind it.  The beast woman landed with a low growl that vibrated the ground.  She immediately snatched up Selithian’s crow to hold it in front of her face.  Large dragon wings, white fur around her shoulders and neck as well as long platinum hair that framed an enchanting dark elven face studied the huge crystal on the bird’s back with red glowing demonic eyes.  The rest of her body was sleek, scaled, had long talons, a big set of gravity defying breasts, and a rainbow-colored feathered tail that twitched in irritation.  She was impressive and clearly naked.  Slowly, she sliced the thin rope holding the crystal from the bird’s back which fell to the ground beside the bag.  The beast woman then sniffed the terrified crow before tossing it into the air to let it fly away with a quiet, “Not food.”

The small multi-colored dragonling alighted next to her when she crouched to take up the big shadowflame bomb crystal.  Right when she swallowed it, being fully distracted, Selithian shouted, “NOW!”

On target, the net fell around the two beasts with Mekron deftly hopping down to take up the edges to cinch it closed from underneath them.  This effectively dropped them to the ground where they both flailed within the magically stretching bindings that kept them from getting up, much less flying off. 

First the dragon got hit with a dispel magic.  First… the dragon got hit with a powerful dispel magic.  The chant came again for the third time and first the dragonling got hit with a sixth level dispel magic… but nothing.  Loddian shouted, “It’s not working!  I can’t get the scroll to activate for some damned reason!”

Marianna held her staff in front of her to cast the exorcism. Her power flared around her body with a white aura, filled with divine purpose in service to her god shaped by her prayer but unfortunately, the god laughed.  She saw that the spell had been cast, but the golden flames that surrounded the beast woman’s body within the net winked out.  She tried again, more desperate now as she pleaded for her god to grant her more strength.  The golden flames licked across the enraged beast in the net again but didn’t do anything.  She too called out in a panic, “I can’t exorcise it!”

Endria growled her frustration out then tried her own spell to banish whatever was within the beast, just in case it was actually a demon instead.  The beast woman writhed, screaming out in pain.  The red ethereal chainlike bindings struck true into the woman’s aura and should’ve hauled out the demonic soul, but right when Endria thought she had her, the spell shattered.  Then silence.

The beast woman and the dragon went still and that scared the holy fuck out of all six of them.  The soft voice that came next was truly terrifying.

“I’m hungry.”

Vrak, Mekron, and Selithian took a step to jump on the woman to beat the shit out of her while the casters backed up to ready their offensive magic.  Except they all made that one step before they all went statue still within half of a blink, one after the other.

Slowly, Isenwrath began to cut her way out of the netting with a talon.  Now that she wasn’t panicking, it was a simple matter to cut the links with her golem steel claws because they were resistant to magic itself.  When the net fell away, she then freed Bubblescale who gratefully crawled up on her shoulders to nuzzle her head and hair.  The six stone statues around her were people she’d never seen before.  Thankfully, they’d brought a bag of treats to compensate her for attempting to do something bad.  One by one, she savored them, humming happily to herself between each tasty swallow. 

Feeling better, Isenwrath thought that leaving these birdbaths here would probably be an issue for someone and she really didn’t want Maddock to worry.  Thus, she lined them up then smelled each of them deeply.  The basilisk stone gazes she’d cast had come in handy tonight, but the stone smelt like stone and wouldn’t help her retrace their steps.  Thankfully, a helpful caw-bark from the bait bird sounded from overhead within the trees which meant Isenwrath could find out where to drop these pests off regardless.  She locked eyes with the bird, then simply cast a charm-beast spell like a few of the Rangers and Beastmasters that she’d consumed could utilize.  He bowed his head to her almost instantly as a sign that the not-food bird was hers to command.

She gently commanded it, “Show me where they came from.”

The crow caw-barked again, then jumped into the air to head back the way it came.  A moment after, Isenwrath had doubled in size, grew out two more sets of arms, then gathered up her trophies with one in each hand.  One quick jump and she was airborne with Bubblescale swooping around her happily to enjoy a night flight together as they followed a little tattletale back to its roost.

--- The Thuleberry Inn, a modest four-story Inn that catered to the merchant and working classes within the capital city and castle of Maciendes. Third story, corner room that had a nice view of the city. ---

Glandock paced.  “Selithian hasn’t checked in yet.  Something’s gone wrong, I can feel it in my scales.”

“Come on, they’re dealing with a beast mage, cut them some slack.  No plan ever goes one hundred percent, so we just need to be patient,” said Jorstan with is normally calm soft voice.

“You’re right.  I just think that maybe I should’ve been there.”

Sarion held up his focus, letting his eldritch power wrap around it till it shaped into an eldritch blade.  “Stop beating yourself up.  Just because you’re claustrophobic doesn't mean we think of you any less.  Just relax.  They’ll be here before you know…”

At the door, six statues appeared from small teleport circles where a beast and a happy dragon poked their heads out from around Endria the birdbath’s shoulders.  “Hello,” the beast woman greeted them low, glowing red eyes wary.

The others had startled, then stood up quickly but didn’t dare move forward.  There was no room in this place for a fight.  That kind of close quarters combat would favor the beast thing that looked at them with barely a flicker of emotion on its beautiful elven face.

Glandock swallowed when it finally registered that half of his whole team were now made of stone.  Hesitantly, he said, “Hello.”

“These belong here, yes?” That question’s answer was made kind of obvious because of a little tattletale bird that started to tap at the window.

“They do.” Glandock said evenly, ignoring the bird.

“Why did you send them after me?”

“We got paid to.”

“Are you going to try again?”

The look in that woman’s eyes when she asked that told Glandock that there was only one answer she’d accept.  So, he made the call.  “No.  You’ll never see us again.”

“Good.”  She turned away from them and actually seemed as if she was about to leave just as suddenly as she came.

“You’re not going to ask who sent us?” he asked because everyone wanted to know who wanted them dead or taken.  Yet her answer surprised them all.

Slowly, Isenwrath poked her head back between the statues to answer Glandock.  “No.  I don’t care.  Just tell them that if they pester me or my Maddock again, I won’t kill the messenger.  I’ll eat the one who wrote the message instead.”

Glandock nodded his reptilian head smartly.  The woman then looked at each of his team members, returning them to flesh.  When they were standing there staring at Glandock in bewilderment, the beast woman and the little dragon flashed away within a teleport’s brightness.  Gone.

Marianna asked with a quaking voice, “How’d we get here?!”

Jorstan answered from the bed that his legs wouldn’t let him stand up from after they’d buckled, “She’d turned you guys to stone.  Then she let you go because Glandock cares more about us than the money.  Glandock?”

Vrak fell to his knees while the others shifted to sit at the wall.  “It was so fast.  We never stood a chance,” he murmured with pure defeat in his gruff dwarven voice.

Glandock turned then rummaged in his pack, pulled out ink, his travel quill, and some parchment.  He wrote as he spoke, his funny quirk that usually amused his team, but tonight, he spoke all of their thoughts to the paper, “My Lord Duke Carlisle. We’re ending our contract and will not cash in on the voucher you’ve given us.  Your daughter is dead.  There’s no amount of money you can spend that will bring her back to you.  From the bottom of my heart, I must warn you.  You need to mourn your loss and move on.  I advise this because if you pursue your dead daughter anymore, she will come back to life, and your house will not survive.  Sincerely, Thanigrellan Mercenary Team Two, Glandock.”

He put the letter down, saw all of their relieved faces, then said evenly, “Get the communication cubes ready Jorstan.  The Duke is going to get my update exactly as I’ve written, then I’m sending one to our guild master.  If he wants his cut so badly, then he can assign his personal team to try their luck.  I do hope he’s stupid enough to try because that asshole needs to be replaced.  Endria, do you agree?”

Endria pulled back her hood, revealing the rest of her face.  Her short silver-blonde hair framed an angelic face, if it were already dead that is.  Her red vampiric eyes glowed faintly.  Due to her excitement, she’d let out her short fangs when she spat out, “Oh, Glandock, you’re so damned clever.  Yes, I agree.  Frame it as a challenge and we’ll toast to his disappearance and then take our guild division over.  I can’t wait to see my father finally earn his reward.  I hope our new friend turns him to stone so I can put him in my garden for every damned bird to shit on forever.”

--- Maddock’s bedroom later the same night. ---

Maddock felt the bed move which woke him suddenly.  He turned his head to see Isenwrath slipping back under the covers carefully so as not to wake him, which failed. She was naked again, which wasn’t a surprise anymore, so he let it go.  “Hey,” he whispered.

She went still, then smiled at him.  “Hi,” she whispered back.

“Potty break?” he asked.

She nodded.  “And some fresh air.   Bubblescale needed to potty too.  Helena wouldn’t like it if he messed the carpet.”

“Ah.  Probably right,” he whispered smiling at her.  “Your shift?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk.

Her cheeks reddened. “Sorry, I got hot.  Is that okay?”

A soft chuckle escaped him.  “I will never not be okay with that.  Get comfy and let’s get back to sleep.  We both have a long day tomorrow.  I can’t wait to see how your shopping trip turns out.”

That earned him a light kiss on his lips as well as a very bright smile.

He rolled the rest of the way over and was pleased when she snuggled up into his arms.  Unfortunately, he felt that dang dragon crawl onto the bed and push itself into his leg space.   “Bubblescale needs his own bed,” he said with a bit of annoyance.

“Okay.  But he likes you.”

“That’s fine, but he’s a bed hog.”

“Oh.  Okay.  I’ll ask your chief maid lady Scarlett about it when she gets here.”

“Yeah.  She likes dogs and I’m… nevermind.  We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

She’d already closed her eyes, pulled his comforter up to her nose to smell it, then she snuggled into his chest hair to smell that too.  She whispered into him, “Sweet… heart… smells… good.  I’m… safe.”

Maddock couldn’t stop his heart as it hammered after those words she whispered into him.  He smiled softly, smoothed her hair back, kissed the top of her head, then just didn’t care anymore.  He listened to her breathing slow down as she drifted back to sleep beside him and that was all he needed to do the same.  If this was the first night of him living with her, then his life was going to be truly charmed.

The cameras panned over the studio audience consisting mostly of bipedal reptiles with soft, smooth scales and thick muscular tails. The cameras zoomed in on the hosts. Both were of the same species, an alien race called the “gecka” by humans, due to their resemblance to the similarly named Gaia species.

The larger of the two hosts spoke to the camera before her. Her left arm from the elbow down was synthetic. It had an artificial scale pattern exclusive to retired military personnel. At the wrist was an emblem indicating she’d been a rear-admiral at retirement.

“And welcome back. Lefty here,” she raised her synthetic hand and waved, “I for one was thrilled by those great ads for products and services.” She turned to her co-host and said, “Don’t you agree, Gorm?”

Gorm replied, “Why yes, I was particularly excited by that product that solves that problem that so many of us can relate to.”

The audience laughter had a pattern surprisingly consistent across species, the result of the local version of an "Applause" sign lighting up.

The host’s tongue darted out and licked each of her eyes in turn before she continued, “For new viewers, we’re joking. We have no idea what ads just ran.”

“What makes you so sure we have new viewers tonight?” her cohost Gorm asked.

Lefty stood up and gestured grandly towards stage right, “Because we have a special guest today, the conqueror of men across the galaxy, THORN QUEEN!”

The audience erupted into a cacophony of hoots, hollers, and chirps, with a few tweets. Not all the audience members were gecka.

Thorn Queen walked onto the stage with the attitude of a conqueror returning to brag about the riches she’d plundered. She was accompanied by the troop of scantily-clad male gecka dancers that escorted most guests onto the stage. The men were about a head-and-a-half shorter than the women, with leaner, less muscle-bound bodies. This was normal for their species. Thorn Queen sat on a cushioned stool like the ones the hosts were using.

“I think,” Thorn Queen began as the scantily-clad dancers left the stage, “The third one from the left has gotten even MORE flexible since the last time I was here.”

Laughing, Lefty said, “Well, I’m the boss, so I can’t speculate on that without getting in trouble.”

The audience obeyed the “Applause” sign.

Lefty leaned forward and said in a pho-conspiratorial tone, “Tell us about,” she paused for dramatic effect before saying, “Humans.”

The audience cheered.

Thorn Queen smiled and answered, “What do you know about humans, beyond the news reports of that tail-ripping geologist we’ve been seeing in the news?” Her voice had grown to a yell by the end of the sentence, a call to the audience to react.

Several war chants broke out. Humans were very popular, and not just because they were new.

The co-host Gorm said, “That reminds me, it’s been TWO SHOWS since we saw the highlight reel!

The feed cut to a series of short clips from municipal survey drones of a human female dispatching a series of muscular, angry, reptiles with a variety of means and weapons. The reptiles in the video were naga, very different from the show’s hosts. While gecka had smooth, soft, scales, naga had rough, dry scales. The Gecka had evolved from egg-eating scavengers, the naga from beings that hunted and ate prey nearly as big as they were. Naga “Field Reapers” tended to swallow gecka whole during raids. All but one of the raiders were dispatched by the human. The outlier had died at the paw of a “First True Mortal,” the short, pleasant, friendly species known as “capybara” among humans.

When the feed cut back to Gorm she said, “We know they can kill naga Field reapers, those uncompostable, sentient-eating, wastes of scales, and they can inspire a FIRST TRUE MORTAL to do the same!”

The audience cheered. When the applause died down, Thorn Queen said, “First, the human in those clips, Gwiyeoun Sol, and yes, that’s the closest our mouths can get to saying her name right, is small for her species. Their sexual dimorphism-”

Gorm interjected with a bad impression of a popular children's show host, “That means the physical differences between the genders.”

Thorn Queen continued, “It’s the inverse of ours. The men are bigger than the women and because of that, get this, most their historical civilizations were patriarchal.”

An intrigued susurrus ran through the audience with occasional phrases such as, “How exotic,” and “I hope our men don't get any ideas!” floating to the surface.

“From what I’ve learned,” Thorn Queen said, “They may pose a serious challenge to our title as the most lascivious species in the galaxy.”

Once the cheering died down, no “Applause” sign had been necessary, the host Lefty said, “That brings us to one of my favorite segments when we have you over-” She paused and looked at the audience, counting down with the talons of her left claw as the audience counted down with her, “Three! Two! One!”  before saying with the audience, “Can we lick them?”

Thorn Queen stood, took a dominant pose and said, “YES! WE CAN!”

When the cheering died down she continued, “Unlike us, they’re warm-blooded, and they run HOT. Unless something is seriously wrong, 36 to 37 degrees by the Galactic water-cycle temperature scale.”

“Wait, what?” said Lefty.

“It’s because of their planet,” Thorn Queen said. “They SETTLED regions with what they call ‘permafrost.’”

Gorm interrupted with, “We’re getting into some geography here, and I never liked that subject. You’ve got me worried. The MEN are bigger? That mean they’re all muscly like a woman?”

Thorn Queen answered, “Not like one of us. ‘Gecka’ they call us. Even our female gecka bodybuilders are lithe and sleek compared to the more developed humans. It’s not just their heat and physicality that makes them so exotic to be with. Both their eyes face forward. I can’t describe the feeling of being with a creature that can look at you with BOTH its eyes completely like that. Your face takes up most of their field of vision when they’re close, and you can feel that attention.”

“It almost sounds like being hunted,” Lefty said.

Thorn Queen said, “It is, and humans know it. They use carnivorous predators as metaphors in their love poetry and music.”

“Oh, THAT is morbid!” said Lefty.

Thorn Queen took a deep breath and said, “And it’s the MALES usually depicted as the predator, completely insane! But that’s the thing about it, with humans, even though it’s a MALE you’re looking at, they can make you feel hunted, and all you want to do is be caught.”

Lefty interjected with, “That’s a really weird image to romanticize when we’re at war with a species trying to eat us.” She raised her left arm and wiggled the synthetic fingers. “Technically, the guy did eat my arm. I was shoulder-deep when the grenade,” She made a fist with her synthetic hand and mimed an explosion. The audience cheered.

“It’s amazing what becomes normal when you’re in bed with a human,” Thorn Queen said. “When someone with a 37 degree tongue says he wants to taste your erogenous zones, being eaten alive doesn’t sound so bad.”

Gorm answered, “That is a very compelling argument.”

Lefty said, “I think humans are going to be VERY popular.”

The audience cheered.

Sandra hesitated before cautiously knocking on the door in front of her. “It’s open,” came the call from inside. Sandra hesitated again before opening the door and walking in. Alpha, former General Collins, former General Carter, Monica, and the Taintay Marja all looked up from the desks they were at.

“Ah, Sandra, Nightshade,” Alpha said as Sandra and Nightshade walked into the room. “Glad you could make it.”

“When Command calls, it’s not usually a good idea to ignore you,” Sandra said a bit sardonically, closing the door behind her.

“At least this one has some sense,” Carter said gruffly.

“John, really?” Collins asked in a pained voice. Carter just snorted but subsided, watching as Sandra took a seat on the chair that had been set up at a sixth desk, Nightshade sitting by her.

“Something to drink, ma’am?” Roy asked, setting a teacup in front of Sandra. Sandra stared at him as he sniffed, placing a bowl of drink down for Nightshade, who happily started drinking.

“How do you do that?” Sandra asked the butler.

“I am simply one hell of a butler, nothing more,” Roy said. “It’s not a proper drink, but do please enjoy yourself. Sandra blinked, watching the man carefully as she took a drink. It was delightfully warm and sour, a near mirror to the drink he had served her back on Earth. Sandra looked up to thank Roy, only to see that the butler was already gone.

“Yeah, I still have no idea how he does that,” Alpha said dryly as Monica just chuckled a bit.

“I’ve tried recruiting him to the Shadows, but he refuses me every time,” Marja said, a small smile on his face. Sandra just blinked again before shaking herself a bit.

“So, why did you want to talk to me?” Sandra asked. “Is it about what happened to the Angels?”

“In part,” Alpha admitted with a sigh.

“We wanted to catch you up on what’s been happening with the Terran-Teratakit war as a whole,” Monica said, lifting up her datapad. Sandra frowned a bit.

“I thought the Terran Federation was doing well? Sandra asked confused as Nightshade finished his drink.

“‘Well’ is a bit of an overstatement,” Carter snorted. “We aren’t losing, but we can’t confidently say that we’re winning either.” Sandra looked at the aging General, who suddenly seemed to be a much older man from the weight on his and the other Commanders shoulders.

“Unfortunately, he’s right,” Alpha sighed. “The Terran Federation has been slowly pushing the Teratakit Empire back out of it’s borders, but it’s been hard won every battle. The Teratakit have overwhelming firepower and significantly more soldiers and ships than the Terran Federation has. For every ship they’ve destroyed, we’ve managed to destroy two of theirs, but unlike the Terran Federation, they don’t seem to be running out of manpower anytime soon.”

“Part of it is Teratakit physiology and biology,” Marja said. “They breed by the thousands at a time, and it takes them only a year to go from grub to a fully-grown Teratakit. And unlike humans, they can start training almost as soon as they hatch, meaning that by the time they’re fully grown, they’ll have all the training required to be a soldier. Their main bottleneck is materials, but considering that the Empire has been around for thousands of years now, they have the resources to just keep throwing everything at the Terran Federation.”

“Unlike humans, where it takes us nearly 20 years to become an adult, and then we have to go through training to become a soldier. And since we’re still relatively new to the galaxy, we don’t have the resources or capital for this kind of war,” Monica said, shaking her head. “It’s been five years already, and according to our reports, the Terran Federation is down a third of what they started off with, and that’s including the people they’ve added to the military over the years.”

“Didn’t the Caramon war last seven years?” Sandra asked.

“Yes, but the Caramon fight very differently than the Teratakit,” Alpha said, shaking his head. “The Teratakit focus primarily on saturation attacks, not caring how many soldiers or ships they lose in an attack. They either win, or the entire fleet needs to be destroyed, there is no in between for them. No retreating, no parley, no taking prisoners. Either the fleet is destroyed, or they destroy you. The Reapers have been going on combat missions, but a lot of them have simply been fleet destruction rather than assassinations. We tried taking out higher ranked officer in the past, but it literally changed nothing about an upcoming battle. The only way we can make a dent is by destroying the fleet before they arrive. Crippling the fleet doesn’t work, as they’re fully repaired and restocked by the time the arrive.”

“All or nothing,” Collins sighed. “Humans have had a few wars in our history like this.”

“How did that turn out?” Sandra asked.

“Complete and utter annihilation for one side or the other,” Collins said flatly. “There are still parts of Asia and the Americas that are too radioactive for humans to live.” Sandra swallowed at the implications of that statement.

“As of right now, it’s a war of attrition on a massive scale,” Alpha said. “But it’s a war that humanity will lose if things continue as they are.”

“But, the Markers?” Sandra asked.

“Expensive, time consuming, and a drain on resources,” Carter said gruffly. “It may take only a fraction of the time it takes to train a Reaper, but the Markers are more volatile and prone to just dropping dead in the middle of a mission.”

“The attack on the Angels is a good example of that,” Monica said, looking sad. “They didn’t so much defeat the Markers that attacked them as the Markers simply died before they could finish the job.”

“Now, the Terran Federation does have options still,” Alpha said. “They have allies they can call in, and as Signatories of the Galactic Accords, they can put out the call for aid, seeing as they’re being attacked by a non-Signatory. But so far, they’ve been refusing to do so, mostly because General Kelvin has been blocking any attempts to call for outside help. And we’ve been doing what we can to help as well, so things aren’t as bleak as they sound. But not by much. General Kalvin’s stubbornness will destroy the Federation.”

“The Federation is done for, whether they win the war or not,” Collins said, shaking his head. “More than a few of the Terran colonies are already threatening to secede from the Federation and become independent. Several other actually have done so already, one’s that are well away from the war, and the only reason a few other haven’t already is because they need the protection of the Terran Federation during the war. Even Mars and Venus, colonized planets in the Sol system, are threatening to become independent, not liking what the Terran Federation is doing.” Sandra was silent for a moment.

“Why weren’t we told about this?” Sandra asked.

“Two reasons,” Alpha said. “First of all, you weren’t mentally stable enough to be sent on major combat missions. You refused to come home, refused your mandated therapy appointments, and remained out of contact for long periods of time. If we had told you the full extant of the war, you would have rushed head-first into battle without a plan, and most likely gotten yourself and everyone on your ship killed.” Sandra growled a bit, but didn’t argue the point. She knew he was right, even if she didn’t like it. “Second, you’re not technically a full-fledged Reaper as of yet.”

“What?” Sandra asked dumbfounded as Nightshade licked his front paws.

“You never took your final test,” Monica explained. “You took off before we could set up your final, and only stopped by for a day to pick up Nightshade and Shadowstrike before leaving again, and haven’t been back since, until now at least. And when you did arrive, you were too mentally unstable for us to give you your final test. As it is, Nightshade, Shadowstrike, and even Tauran and Sar’Ma, all outrank you. They have access to this information and the missions we need done. You did not because you are still considered a Trainee. Technically, we should restart your Reaper training.”

“You took off, do not start saying that it was unfair,” Alpha said, pinning Sandra with a harsh glare. Sandra swallowed again, slowly sitting back down. “We have rules and procedures for a reason. Why do you think we only ever sent you on recon missions instead of combat missions? If you had thought about it, you would have noticed much sooner.” Sandra closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He was right. Dammit, but Sandra hated that he was right.

“So, why am I getting caught up to date now?” Sandra asked, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.

“Situation has changed,” Alpha sighed. “Quin has informed us that she still can’t recommend you for any major missions, but she’s given the go-ahead for you to be caught up, and to take your Reaper final. But also, the attack on the Angels means that things might be even more unstable than we thought in the Terran Federation. And we’re going to need every Reaper available if we want a chance at turning things around. And with the Angels arriving, your natural curiosity is going to get you asking questions that will lead you to answers that will make you want to take off again. I want you to have a clear picture before making a decision. And I’m going to give you a question to think about now, instead of running off without a plan again.”

“Which is?” Sandra asked stiffly.

“Is being a Reaper really worth it to you? And what does being a Reaper mean to you?” Alpha held up a hand, stopping Sandra’s immediate response. “Don’t give me your first answer. Think about it.” Sandra glared at the older human, who met her eyes with ease.

“Anything else?” Sandra asked, her voice still stiff.

“No,” Monica said, looking at Sandra with sad eyes. “You can go now.” Sandra nodded, a jerky movement as she stood up, Nightshade right behind her as she left the office. “You could have done that better,” Monica admonished Alpha.

“Nah, he did exactly as a leader is supposed to do,” Carter snorted. “Not every soldier is cut out to be a soldier. And it’s up to us to determine if they can be a soldier, or if there’s a better path for them.” Collins and Marja both nodded in agreement.

“I fully believe that she can be a great Reaper,” Alpha said, looking at his datapad. “My brother saw something special in her, and I choose to believe in his belief. But she needs to understand that the galaxy waits for no one.” Monica just sighed, but she didn’t argue the point.

……………….

Sandra scowled as she walked down the street, Nightshade on her heels. “Did you know about this?” Sandra demanded as they walked.

“Which part?” Nightshade asked, keeping his tone mild, though his hackles did raise a bit at Sandra’s tone.

“Me not being an official Reaper, how badly the war is going, all of it,” Sandra said, flinging her arms up.

“Some of it,” Nightshade admitted after a moment. “I didn’t know that you weren’t officially a Reaper yet, but I did know that the war wasn’t going nearly as well as the Terran Federation liked to say it was. I just didn’t realize how bad the situation was.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me, because?” Sandra growled.

“I thought you knew,” Nightshade said. “Also, you haven’t exactly been the most open person to talk to for the last few years. And recently I haven’t been keeping up because of Shadowstrike’s pregnancy.” Sandra stopped walking, causing Nightshade to take a few steps in front of her before turning around, watching Sandra carefully.

“Have I really been that closed off?” Sandra asked quietly, stunned.

“Ever since Eric died,” Nightshade said with a nod. “You’ve been more than willing to talk to us about everything else, except Eric and yourself. And instead of staying in contact with your friends and family, you’ve been insisting on getting the next mission. I might only be seven years old, but even I know that a lot of that information you could have gotten if you just asked. And that they would probably have let you take the test when you came to pick me and Shadowstrike up three years ago.”

“Shit,” Sandra cursed, fingering her borrowed revolver. Her datapad then buzzed, indicating that she had a message. Sandra pulled out her datapad and sighed as she read the message. “Sounds like Tune and Xarcan have finished servicing my weapons, so I’m going to go and pick those up.”

“Want some company?” Nightshade asked.

“No, I need time to think,” Sandra said, shaking her head. She gave a half-smile at Nightshade’s worried look. “I’m not going to take off. I just need some time to think is all.”

“Alright,” Nightshade said, though he looked unconvinced.

………………..

“Who the hell designed this thing?!” Sandra heard Tune screech as the door swung open, a Xactarian man shrugging apologetically as Sandra stepped inside.

“Hello, Billy,” Sandra said with a slight smile.

“It’s good to see you again,” the beetle man said, closing the door behind Sandra.

“It’s rather clever, if you think about it,” Xarcan was saying. “It might not be quite up to par with current Reaper technology, but for what they’ve done, it’s a close second.”

“Sure, if they like replacing the weapons after every use,” Tune snorted.

“I’m sorry, what’s wrong with the sword?” the Karanta apprentice asked, looking at what looked like a sword with way too many components taken apart on the table.

“Is this a bad time?” Sandra cut in as Billy hurried into the back room.

“Pakta, go grab the girls stuff,” Tune barked, her teeth still sparking in annoyance as she glared at the sword.

“I’m already back here, love,” Billy called out.

“Well he can help out,” Tune snapped. “I really want to find whoever made this abomination and wring their scrawny little neck with their own entrails.” Pakta quickly rushed into the back room to help Billy grab Sandra’s stuff.

“Charming image,” Xarcan said dryly, poking at a few parts. “All of the metal is the same throughout the sword, though. I can’t decide if they’re only a few weeks old or several decades old.”

“I’m willing to bet it’s the fault of this,” Tune said, tapping a crystal that made Sandra’s scales itch just looking at it. “You don’t like it either?” Tune asked, noticing Sandra’s reaction.

“Not sure why,” Sandra said, frowning a bit to get a closer look. “It’s making my scales itch. Like when I saw another albino Targondian, but creepy instead of just weird.”

“Can’t say I understand the description, but I understand the sentiment,” Xarcan said with a slight shudder. “I really don’t want to touch the thing.”

“Tune, where did you put her revolvers?” Billy called from the back room.

“Slider, third down and four across,” Tune called back.

“What even is this?” Sandra asked.

“Marker sword, used in the attack against the Angels,” Xarcan said grimly. “But it’s weird. It’s like they tried imitating Reaper weapons, but badly.”

“That’s being polite about it,” Tune grumbled. “This thing has so much wear and tear that I wouldn’t be able to recommend anyone using it. and as far as I can tell, it’s only been used once or twice.”

“That’s…concerning,” Sandra said. “By the way, I’ve been wondering something.”

“Whatchu want now, girl?” Tune asked, rolling her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Sandra asked. “I thought you couldn’t be in ships or Stations for very long due to your ability.”

“You can thank the Lamnacorta for that,” Billy said, walking back out, holding Sandra’s revolvers, Pakta behind him holding Sandra’s bracers. Tune snorted a bit as Billy started handing Sandra her weapons.

“Making a ship sentient and sapient makes them no longer a ship, go figure,” Tune said, shaking her head. “My ability doesn’t classify anything with Lamnacorta in it as having any weapons. Now, if I walked up to their cannons, that’s a different story, but my ability only focuses on the cannon, not the ship as a whole anymore. Breath of fresh air, let me tell ya.”

“Huh,” Sandra said as she belted on her revolvers before reaching for her bracers. “How did you four even get here? I thought you were all safe on Zatoria V?”

“You can thank the Terrans for that,” Tune spat. Actually spat a glob of fire at the ground, which made Xarcan tut a bit as Pakt put out the fire with a spray bottle of some kind.

“Someone in the Terran Military didn’t like the fact that we knew anything about Reaper weaponry,” Billy said sadly, absently rubbing his arm where a scar that Sandra hadn’t noticed was. “They sent Markers after us. The only reason we aren’t dead is because of the Speakers contacting the Reapers as soon as the Markers made planetfall. We were being teleported here when they broke the door down. They offered to take us to another planet for safety, and new identities, but…”

“Once I realized that the Ferry wasn’t making me itch like cooling lava in a cut, I offered to stick around and help out,” Tune said.

“I stuck around simply because there wasn’t anything for me back on Mascomlia,” Xarcan said sadly. “The Markers killed Tattat when they came for me.” Sandra winced at that.

“I liked him,” she murmured, slipping her bracers on. Xarcan nodded sadly at that.

“This ship has become a crew of misfits, loners, and those with nowhere else to go,” Pakt sighed, his wings fluttering slightly and his tail drooping. “Everyone that has arrived over the last several years have had similar stories. Attacks from Markers due to their association with the Reapers, refugees with nowhere else to go because of the war, and even a few that sought out the Reapers simply because they didn’t know where else to go. A haven for the lost, confused, and broken.” Pakt snorted slightly. “Everyone who’s here has lost someone or something precious and important to them. Not even the Lamnacorta are exempt from that. We’ve lost ships in skirmishes, ships with those weird ship spirits. You find someone on this ship who hasn’t lost someone or something, and I’ll be ready to call them out as damn liars.”

“That’s enough of that,” Tune snapped at the Karanta smith. Pakt subsided in his grumbling, but his words struck Sandra harder than she had expected. Tune sighed, flying up and motioning for Sandra to follow her. “He’s not wrong, but he has a rather pessimistic view of the community here right now,” Tune sighed as they stepped out of the smithy. “The Reapers have been great at giving people jobs, purpose, and just generally being helpful in some way to anyone who does take up residence here.”

“Are things really that bad here?” Sandra asked. Tune hesitated for a moment.

“I’ve yet to meet someone who hasn’t lost someone or their home to either the Markers or the war here,” Tune finally admitted grudgingly. “But, despite what my apprentice is saying, a lot of them have been moving on, trying to continue going through their life. Even before I joined Billy on Zatoria, I’ve rarely seen such a tight community. Misfits, every single one of them. But misfits who watch out for each other. Ain’t nothing wrong with being here.”

………………..

Sandra wandered aimlessly around, Pakt’s words ringing. War or attacks from Markers. “I really have been selfish,” Sandra muttered to herself.

“Nothing wrong with being selfish at times,” a voice said. Sandra’s Reaper Revolver practically flew from it’s holster, the hammer already cocked and pointed at the chest of a familiar black and red Dra’Cari. “A bit harsh, don’t you think?” So’Ngo asked, an easy grin on his face as he leaned against his staff.

“Sorry,” Sandra said, grimacing a bit as she holstered her revolver again. “I don’t like being startled.”

“I can see that,” So’Ngo said, nodding. “Guess I should be grateful you don’t shoot first and ask questions later.” Sandra snorted a bit at that before walking away. “Awe, where ya going?”

“For a walk,” Sandra said.

“Excellent, then I guess I’ll join you,” So’Ngo said cheerfully, following the Targondian woman.

“Not a chance,” Sandra said, stopping to glare at the Dra’Cari.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want any company right now, least of all from someone I don’t know,” Sandra said, rolling her eyes. “So you can go away.”

“Can’t exactly stop me if I happen to be walking in the same direction of you, now can you?” So’Ngo said. Sandra didn’t respond, instead just rolling her eyes again and climbing up a wall, reaching the roof of the building in a matter of seconds. She turned around to look at the Dra’Cari, only to see him gone. Sandra frowned as she looked around the suddenly empty street.

“What’re you looking at?” So’Ngo asked from right next to Sandra. Sandra looked at him, confused.

“How…” she started to ask.

“You know, you’re right, a brief jaunt across rooftops does sound more fun than just walking around on the streets,” So’Ngo said, snapping his clawed fingers. “Smart thinking, Sandra.” Sandra just growled, touching her belt for a moment before leaping off the roof, practically soaring through the air as the grav-belt dropped her gravity to near zero. “Oh, are we flying now instead?” So’Ngo asked, easily soaring next to Sandra, looking as though he was laying on his back, staff held across his body.

“Can you kindly fuck off?” Sandra growled. A wire shot out of her bracer, catching a nearby building and changing her direction with increased momentum.

“Oh, now I get it, you’re trying to cosplay like Spiderman, right?” So’Ngo asked, this time just sitting crosslegged in the air as he flew next to Sandra. Sandra stared at him in shock before cursing as she barely was able to twist out of the way of a pole that was in her way. So’Ngo just arched an eyeridge as Sandra launched another wire, puling her to another rooftop where she slid to a stop, already changing the gravity on her belt again as she slid to a stop, turning to face So’Ngo as he landed lightly near Sandra.

“The hell is your problem?” Sandra demanded.

“Oh, by the time I finished going through that list, the Races would already by at a level where intergalactic travel was a norm instead of simply theory,” So’Ngo said cheerily.

“Well you can take that list elsewhere and shove it up your asshole while your at it,” Sandra growled.

“And if I say no?” So’Ngo asked, leaning on his staff, his face a bright smile. Sandra just gave him a level stare as she held up her Oversized Reaper Revolver, already spinning the cylinder to the correct ammo. “Oooooo, scary.” So’Ngo shook his head in disappointment. “A bit of teasing and already resorting to violence? Looks like I might have my work cut out for me.”

“Look, Dra’Cari, I’m really not in the mood to be playing games right now,” Sandra said, thumbing the hammer back on her revolver. “So go away before you get hurt.”

“But life is a game, and it’s so much fun to play,” So’Ngo said with a grin. “You wouldn’t use you’re big scary revolver on a poor civilian refugee, now would you?” There was a blast of air that created a cloud of dust around the red and black Dra’Cari. “I stand corrected,” he said, tilting his head a bit as Sandra stared at him before her gaze hardened and she flipped the revolver again, flicking a switch and causing the weapon to start humming in her hands. So’Ngo brushed his shoulder off, knocking some dust off as he continued to smile. “I guess someone has had a really bad day.”

“Who the hell are you?” Sandra demanded, thumbing a transmitter in her belt. So’Ngo raised an eye-ridge before snapping his fingers again, and Sandra’s transmitter sparked, startling her.

“Rude,” So’Ngo said with a frown. “This is a private party. Also, I got bored of hell, so I went to go hang out with gods instead. And now I’m here after getting bored of hanging out with the gods. Just…Drifting along.” Sandra frowned at the way he said that.

“Start making some sense, or I’ll start shooting first and asking questions later,” Sandra threatened. The red and black Dra’Cari’s smile widened, his smile almost becoming feral while still remaining mischievous.

“Think you can handle that, little Wyvern?” So’Ngo practically purred.

Sandra pulled the trigger.

Prologue Previous Next

Appendix

TOC

[Sandra and Eric TOC]

The Ramsey Particle

In 2056, CERN, a large particle collider on planet Earth, had discovered a new particle and called it the Ramsey particle. Based on a single line in the research of Prof. Higgs in the previous century, Prof. Ramsey had theorized that this particle should be added to the Standard Model. According to Ramsey, our universe was but one in an endless number of universes, all occupying the same space. So Ramsey augmented Einstein's model of space-time to space-time-universe. The Ramsey particle proved to keep a universe together, preventing universes from collapsing into one another.

The discovery of the Ramsey particle led to research into its accompanying antiparticle: the anti-Ramsey particle. That particle would locally destroy the coherence of a universe and cause a tunnel between universes. It took over a century to find this particle and required a super-large particle collider, one built around planet Jupiter.

Travelling between universes was not possible and was not thought ever to be possible. But Prof. Nieuwenburg theorized that enough anti-Ramsey particles would create a tunnel that would allow energy and gravity to travel through a Nieuwenburg tunnel, as it was named.

That took over two centuries, as anti-Ramsey particles were rare and really hard to create. But in 2377, the first Nieuwenburg tunnel was created. The tunnel would exist for a microsecond before closing. The next two centuries’ developments made it easier to create a Nieuwenburg tunnel, or an N-tunnel as it came to be known. All the tunnel did was exchange energy and gravity to and from a random universe. 

In these two centuries, it was Professor Kromjong who theorized that selecting a galaxy was possible. Every N-tunnel to another universe left a memory in the anti-Ramsey particles. Reusing anti-Ramsey particles would create a tunnel to the same universe that these particles had previously opened an N-tunnel to. It was in 2549 that the first tunnel creator – it was named the Kromjong tunneller - was successful in creating a tunnel to a selected universe. 

Every tunnel originated at the Kromjong tunneller and always ended in the same place in the selected universe. This was because all universes overlapped and did not move. It was like putting a bunch of unrelated maps on top of each other and pushing a nail through them. Starting at one location on the top map would always bring you to the accompanying place in the maps below.

So far this was all academic – it had no practical use case. Humankind built thousands of Kromjong tunnellers in search of useful endpoints for the N-tunnels, looking at millions of universes. It took 8 centuries – in 3301 - to find the first useful tunnel endpoint: the core of an active star. Finding that endpoint destroyed the Kromjong tunneller that created the tunnel because the energy in the core of that star flowed through the N-tunnel. The energy coming through destroyed an area the size of a city in just over a microsecond.

It took another two centuries – in 3582 - to find another useful endpoint: the core of a black hole. By now the Kromjong tunnellers were better protected, but even then the tunneller was almost sucked into the black hole. By then the Kromjong tunneller was capable of extended tunnel times – up to 7 milliseconds.

The discovery of the core of a star in another universe was useful for spaceships. A team led by Prof. Yamamoto had discovered ways of folding space to travel any distance in an instant. Space would be folded, and the spaceship would move a few kilometres and then unfold space. This was called ‘stepping’ as you would step into the other location. That would make instant travel to any location in the universe possible. However, each folding required the energy of a star, so it was not feasible and therefore purely academic. The discovery of the core of a star in another universe opened possibilities. By creating an N-tunnel into the core of a star, the energy coming through the tunnel was more than enough to power a space folder. The first spaceship successfully travelling this way was the UESS Salty Dog in 3544, using a Yamamoto drive, or Y-drive as it came to be known.

There was still a problem to solve. A point in our universe would always tunnel to the same point in another universe. It was Dr. Prepain who developed a way to page through other universes at incredible speed, creating and destroying N-tunnels to see if there was the core of a star on the other end. After all, with an infinite number of universes, there would always be one with the core of a star in that particular location. That would allow ships to find the core of a star in another universe from any location in our universe.

Soon after that, Earth built a fleet of ships – the Salty Dog class – that could travel by folding space, using N-tunnels, a Y-drive and a Prepain indexer.

Humans being humans, the Kromjong tunneller was then put to use for weapons. Having found the core of a black hole, a missile was developed that would open a tunnel to a black hole near the enemy ship. That was first tested in 3587 on an old commercial carrier, the ECC Marie Jeanette. The missile was fired at the ECC Marie Jeanette and triggered within a hundred meters. The N-tunnel was open for four milliseconds. The Marie Jeanette was sucked into the black hole in two milliseconds. High-speed camera replays showed that the Marie Jeanette was sucked into the tunnel with the closest point moving in first at close to light speed, the furthest points following nano seconds later. It basically looked like the Marie Jeanette turned from a ship into a line and then nothing.

The missile could not carry enough power to drive a Prepain indexer. Therefore, in most locations, a ship would need to do the indexing and then program the missiles accordingly. As a black hole is very, very big, a useful universe that was found with the Prepain indexer would be good enough for a battle area the size of an extended solar system.

Earth was both happy and unhappy with this new weapon. Mass demonstrations were held against the weapon and for a test ban. The United Earth government, however, decided on one more test on a moon-sized asteroid in the Oort cloud. That went a little differently. The side of the asteroid close to the Nieuwenburg tunnel disappeared into the tunnel. However, the tunnel would not stay open long enough to swallow the entire asteroid, so half of it remained, being accelerated towards the core of the black hole but never finding it. Effectively, the weapon had broken the asteroid in two, with the remaining half hurtling through space at an incredible speed.

In the following centuries, Earth manufactured hundreds of thousands of N-missiles. Knowing Earth's history of violence and war, these missiles could only be activated after a democratic vote among the population of Earth and its colonies – by then some two trillion people. This was a cumbersome process, but it would safeguard humanity from destroying itself.

Among the stars

The KayJay drive – as it came to be known, being short for Kromjong – sent humanity to millions of other star systems in the following millennia. Humans found mostly dead planets or planets with only microbial life. However, once in a while they would find a civilisation. Some were young and not yet space-faring, some were advanced, travelling the universe, some were at their peak, some were over their peak and decaying, and some were dead. Particularly the dead civilisations were numerous and spanned billions of years. However, humanity did not find any really old thriving civilisations. All the active civilisations were at most a million years old, counting from the moment they developed faster-than-light travel.

Humanity started to realise that every civilisation would inevitably die in the end. This realisation started a seeding program. On thousands and thousands of planets, seed vaults were placed in orbit. Vaults with all the requirements for life and with human DNA. These planets were often young, too young to support life of any kind. The vaults were programmed to send their contents to the planet’s surface after a set period – some hundreds of thousands of years, some hundreds of millions of years. By then the planets would be ready to support life. That, so was thought, would guarantee that humanity would keep on starting again, thereby preventing the demise of the species. Humans would be there until the end of the universe, was the prevailing sentiment.

Humans would not interact with pre-space-faring civilizations. They had taken to heart the directive of an ancient amusement series – Star Trek – that pre-space flight civilisations should be left alone to develop naturally. Humans, being nostalgic, still called it the ‘prime directive’.

Civilisations near or at their peak were the best partners for trade, cultural exchange and scientific exchange. Some were great holiday destinations, some had great art and music, some had great food, and some had a way of looking at the universe that was entertaining and surprising. Some species were just plain fun to be with. Earth – surprisingly – was well known for its fiction and entertainment. Old ‘television’ series – a television was a flat view screen for viewing entertainment programs – were particularly popular as they were both weird and simple fun. The only problem was that some species had difficulty distinguishing between documentaries and fiction. Which was fun for the humans.

The most popular among alien species, however, was a category called ‘porn’ which showed the many creative ways of human procreation. Aliens found it fun to watch and were spiked by the way humans showed their procreation to the rest of the universe. Each species had its own way of procreating. All required combining DNA of two or more individuals. According to humans, the weirdest were the N’GKXTCH, where females gathered as much DNA as possible from as many males as possible. Their internal organs would then choose each gene based on majority and use that for their offspring. It proved to be a stable way of protecting the species as outliers were ignored, but it also caused very slow development. What had taken humans a hundred thousand years had taken the N’GKXTCH almost a million years. It was due to their extremely friendly planetary environment that they had not been wiped out a long time ago.

The big problem proved to be with decaying civilisations. These were trying to assert dominance in a universe that had overtaken them. A last-ditch effort to be relevant. Most of these civilisations had built up a sizeable military and were pouring ever more resources into expanding that military. More ships, more weapons, more soldiers. Often they would resort to enslaving other civilisations – mostly pre-space-faring civilisations – to serve their military. The worst among them had enslaved hundreds of thousands of civilisations, trillions of individuals.

Most of these had an aggressive posture, attempting to dominate advancing or peaking civilisations. Regular wars were a consequence, wars that were hugely costly in terms of resources and lives. The most famous of these wars was the Galactic Superwar of JADES, where two decaying civilisations fought each other, and over two hundred trillion enslaved species lost their lives. The Omega-Thau system – in the JADES galaxy - was destroyed, debris of destroyed planets being flung out, causing gravitational disruptions that knocked planets out of their orbit in the nearby systems and destroying any possible life there. In the end, both civilisations had vanished.

Never did the humans bring up their N-missiles – they were kept a total secret. It was thought that if a civilisation came to know of them, humans would be considered monsters that should not be interacted with. And rightly so – even the human population did not know about them and would only learn of their existence if their use would be put to the vote.

An Emperor Takes Offence

The first sign of problems arose when Earth received a war declaration from the AA’AGTXQ. Their war declaration was sent by an emissary in a bubble ship. A bubble ship was a tiny driverless ship that was shot through an FTL space highway and had no return possibility. The emissary read the declaration aloud in Earth Congress, comprising the House and Senate of Earth and Earth’s maharajah, president, and vice president. It stated that Earth had violated common decency and had committed galactic rape by placing hideous objects in orbit of hundreds of thousands of planets. The seed vaults.

The declaration of war left no doubt as to its intentions. There would be no negotiation, no surrender or anything else. The AA’AGTXQ were bent on war, and there was nothing Earth could do about it. It was obvious that this was a decaying civilisation attempting to assert its dominance on the galaxy. Not a civilisation to be taken trivially, though. The AA’AGTXQ had acquired faster-than-light travel over eighty thousand years ago. That is a long time to develop ships and weapons for warfare. Their most feared weapon was a dimensional shift disruptor. It would shoot out a beam, within which space would be uncertain about which universe it was in, which would crumble matter into pieces that were in this universe and pieces in other universes. Not conducive to a healthy state of matter.

After proclaiming the declaration of war at the top of his lungs, the emissary screamed loudly, ‘Hail Emperor d’Troof’ and blew himself up. He had brought a recording device that sent the declaration and suicide to Emperor d’Troof immediately.  Leaving Congress in disarray and a bit of a panic.

The AA’AGTXQ did not give Earth any time to consider their options. An hour after the emissary read out the war declaration, Earth's colony Wayne’s World – named after a very old entertainment series that the click-click-pause-click species (humans called them twenty-oners) thought was a documentary – was attacked. A dimensional shift disruptor ray disrupted the planet, the colony, and its 250 million inhabitants out of existence. The AA’AGTXQ proudly sent a live broadcast of the disruption on every channel to the universe. At the end, Emperor D’Troof – an androgynous being – loudly announced the beginning of the end of humanity. Being what he was, he also added that human elections were a fraud, so they deserved what they got. He also used the opportunity to announce import tariffs on any merchandise coming from the Alpha quadrant of the Milky Way. Finally, he praised the dictator Emperor of Chria, who had gone to war – and was losing - with a small solar system nearby.

For the humans, this was a no-return point: the AA’AGTXQ were not just going to pay; they were going to be annihilated. On streets on Earth and on its colonies, billions of people chanted ‘exterminate, exterminate’ in the voice of Daleks, from an ancient entertainment series called ‘Doctor Who’. It was a good time to inform the humans about the N-missiles and to put their use to the vote. Humans overwhelmingly – 87% - voted for their use against the AA’AGTXQ.

There was one problem for the humans. Though the humans had over two million ships, only just over one hundred thousand of them could fire N-missiles. And the AA’AGTXQ, by the latest analysis, had well over seven million warships with the dimensional shift disruptor.

The numbers were not good for the humans. An AA’AGTXQ warship would destroy a colony, and an Earth N-missile would then suck the AA’AGTXQ ship out of existence. But with the number of ships the AA’AGTXQ had, all colonies would be gone before all AA’AGTXQ ships were sucked out of existence.

A special kind of hubris

It was up to Admiral Sjen to find a solution. She – Sjen started as a He but decided to be a She for a while – stood on the bridge of the UESS Abyss, contemplating options. She could attack AA’AGTXQ prime – her KayJay drive would get her there in a nanosecond - but the problem was that the N-missiles had to be set up at the location of use. It would take at least two hours to index the area with the Prepain indexer, program the missiles, and fire them at enemy ships, after which it would take another seven minutes to open the N-tunnel. During that time, the firing ship would have to be stationary, which made it a sitting duck for the dimensional shift disruptors.

Captain Öcellan of the UESS Abyss looked at Admiral Sjen. ‘What are your orders, ma’am?’ she asked. Captain Öcellan was famous for the battle of Esteron, where she beat thirty-five AA’AGTXQ battleships with only four Earth ships. It had been a humiliation for the AA’AGTXQ. 

Admiral Sjen did not answer immediately. It seemed to her that the N-missile was not as powerful as originally thought. She was looking at the screen, where Emperor d’Troof was bragging to journalists about his powerful and exceptional intelligence. ‘Such an idiot’, Sjen thought. She thought about the way AA’AGTXQ was run. It used to be a democracy, like on Earth, but now it was run by one man, the Emperor. He was continually killing his possible opponents and successors. He was quietly called ‘the great defenestrator’ by his detractors. ‘I don’t know,’ she said to Captain Öcellan, ‘that idiot on screen is scrambling my brain’. 

Emperor d’Troof had moved to the capital warship Ultimate Disruptor. It was a gift from the kingdom of Qtr and was furnished with golden seats, tables, et cetera. Even the imperial lavatory was made of gold. Emperor d’Troof loved gold. The Ultimate Disruptor was a globe. One half was for machinery, personnel, et cetera. The entire other half was a courtroom dome. The courtroom was all gold and diamonds. The Qtr had gone out of their way to please the Emperor. On the perimeter were golden seats for visitors. These were usually visitors from other empires and species. The front row, closest to the centre, was made up of hard and uncomfortable wooden benches. These were reserved for species that the Emperor deemed ‘Sad’, ‘Unfair to the empire’ and ‘having no cards to play’. The Emperor would always berate the wooden benchers, as they came to be called, and flaunt the power of the empire in their faces.

Emperor d’Troof held a firm belief that the only thing that mattered was power. And Emperor d’Troof had it in spades. The way the universe worked was that the powerful dominated and all others served the powerful. The Emperor could bully others, threaten them and, if necessary, destroy them. He had destroyed hundreds of civilizations purely for being disrespectful to him. Such was the Emperors right, such was the way of the universe.

At the centre of the courtroom there was a golden throne, inlaid with diamonds and with the rarest matter in the universe, QulQar, which could only be found in very small quantities on one in a million planets. The amount of QulQar in the throne represented more than half of the quantity ever extracted.

The Emperor was strutting around in the courtroom, looking smug and answering questions of the invited press in his usual insulting way. D’Troof was Emperor after all, and everybody served him. ‘I have ordered my military to destroy all humans, ’ he or she – nobody really knows - said. ‘We have the greatest military in the universe, you know. Everybody says that. I have the greatest Admirals and the best weapons of everybody’. He or she put on a smug smile, pushed out his or her considerable belly and turned around so everyone could see him. ‘The humans will beg me for peace, and they will give me anything to get it. I am the greatest dealmaker in the universe, everybody says that’. One of the journalists, a young female named r’Oupnama, gathered enough guts to ask the Emperor a question. ‘Emperor d’Troof, do you really think these orbital vaults the humans have put up are so bad?’ She shrank visibly as though she regretted her question as soon as it was asked. ‘You are so stupid. You should not be asking questions, ’ Emperor D’Troof shouted at her. ‘You always lie; you are fake press with fake news. Your employer should fire you right now’. She was fired two minutes after asking her question; the news agency apologized profusely to the Emperor, begging him not to take offence. The Emperor cancelled the license of the news agency and set his law hounds on them. Everybody serves Emperor d’Troof, no exceptions.

The Gift

All this was shown on the viewscreen in the UESS Abyss. ‘Maybe you can use that against him, ’ Captain Öcellan said to Admiral Sjen. Admiral Sjen abruptly turned towards her and snapped, ‘What? What on earth are you talking about?’ Captain Öcellan did not care for Admiral Sjen’s ways, but she pushed on. ‘It seems to me that the Emperor’s arrogance can be turned against him,’ Captain Öcellan said. That seemed to break Admiral Sjen’s irritation. ‘Explain,’ she said. ’Well,’ Captain Öcellan said, ‘my father was like the Emperor, and after a while I learned how to use his arrogance to manipulate him to do anything I wanted. It seems to me we can get the Emperor in a losing position just by appeasing and insulting him’. Admiral Sjen looked at Captain Öcellan intently, deeply pondering her remarks. It took Admiral Sjen almost a minute, and then she said, ‘Give me an example’.

Captain Öcellan smiled. Now she was getting somewhere. ‘Well, as an example. My father hated my boyfriends when I was young. He would demeanour them, insult them, belittle and berate them, and brag about himself until nobody wanted to be my boyfriend. So I changed tack. I praised him for his intelligence and his astute judgment of character. I told him he had been right every time, of course. That I was really thankful for him being my father. That it would be a great honour if he would allow me to invite him to dinner in the greatest restaurant in town, ‘The Prancing Horse’. Admiral Sjen looked sharply at Captain Öcellan. ‘I have read your file. That is where your father died, is it not?’ ‘Yes,’ said Captain Öcellan, ‘but what is not in my file is how he died. ’ Admiral Sjen was silent and puzzled. Where was this going? ‘I invited all my ex-boyfriends to that restaurant too. All of them were really hurt by my father, as was I’. ‘My father would never do what I asked him, but the flattery made him make mistakes. He came to the Prancing Horse.’ She looked Admiral Sjen straight in the eye. ‘Together we all stabbed him to death. ’ Captain Öcellan looked at Admiral Sjen to see the shock. ‘The boys left the heart for me. He was still alive when I stabbed him in the heart’. Admiral Sjen let out the air she had been holding. ‘I tell you this as an example of how we can get the Emperor to put himself in a vulnerable position, sir’. Admiral Sjen thought she would never look at Captain Öcellan the same way again. But other matters were more pressing. Could she get the Emperor in a similar position? She looked intently at Captain Öcellan and raised her eyebrows. Captain Öcellan understood the implied question.

‘We need an area in space that we can prepare, so that the N-missiles can be set up in advance and triggered the moment the ultimate Disruptor arrives. ’ Admiral Sjen was not impressed. Of course they would want to make that happen. Finishing off the Emperor would mean an end to the war. His total control of the AA’AGTXQ empire meant that it would fall apart the moment the Emperor was gone. But it was impossible to do. The Ultimate Disruptor had made a habit of jumping in and, if something was off, jumping out again within a second. She felt irritation coming up, but curiosity got the best of her. ‘Continue’.

‘We beg the Emperor for forgiveness. We apologize profusely. That will not be enough, of course, so we offer him a very special gift. To be accepted at a place in space that fits the occasion. The solar system of his first conquest. The Tpoy system.’ Admiral Sjen thought that was interesting but not enough. What would be the present that would make him come? Captain Öcellan smiled. ‘Gotcha,’ she thought. ‘It needs to be a present that will keep the Ultimate Disruptor in place for at least seven minutes so the N-tunnel can open. ’ Silence. The Admiral was egging her on with her eyes. Captain Öcellan said, ‘You will probably need to know the present, sir’. She waited a while for effect. ‘I am the human the Emperor most hates. I am the one who humiliated him in the battle of Esteron. So it will be me. Naked, painted top to bottom in 24-karat gold, wearing a crown that honours him and hurts me’. Admiral Sjen was trying to understand what was going on here. ‘The gift is not just me; I represent humanity, and I will bow at his feet and kiss them. D’Troof will love it, gloat and show me to everyone, while the seven minutes go by’. Admiral Sjen started to get the picture. ‘No, no way, we are not going to do that. You will die, you will be sucked in with him!’

‘This is what I want to do. I cannot think of a better way to make my life worthwhile than to give it away for humanity. I really want to do this. And besides, think of the opportunity to see that bastard sucked into a black hole in another universe. I would give my life for just that. And I will.’ Captain Öcellan said. She had practised this part in front of the mirror. Admiral Sjen’s heart nearly exploded hearing this. This great woman, this lovely creature, this vengeful weapon. She pursed her lips and pinched her nose. ‘Done deal,’ Captain Öcellan thought, knowing her Admiral really well. Her childhood experience had taught her to deeply study other people so she could avoid getting hurt. Lips pursing and nose pinching were the Admiral's tells that she was going to say yes. Just wait a minute, and it will come. After a silent minute, it did come. ‘Okay Mitsu, let’s do it’. Mitsu was Captain Öcellan’s Christian name. Using it showed the sorrow at giving away Captain Öcellan.

Seven minutes

Orders went out immediately to prepare the Tpoy system for the arrival of the Emperor. The system was indexed by the UESS Marauder, and the N-missiles were programmed and set to detonate as soon as the Emperor arrived. They still required at least seven minutes to open the N-tunnel, so the performance of Captain Öcellan was crucial. The Ultimate Disruptor would jump out of the system before the tunnel was opened if she did not appear.

The tricky part was getting the Emperor to say yes. Admiral Sjen decided that the only way to guarantee his trip to the Tpoy system was to go in person to invite him. She sent the Emperor a message: ‘Hail Emperor d’Troof, the greatest Emperor that is, was and ever will be. The Emperor that puts all other Emperors to shame. The human race bows to you and will serve you in every way you desire. The human race will mark this great moment with an unimaginable gift. It would be my great honour to personally invite you to accept the gift in a ceremony that marks the subservience of the human race and the recognition of the greatness of you, our divine Emperor.’ It only took fifteen minutes for the Emperor to grant Admiral Sjen an audience. Captain Öcellan had predicted that the Emperor would respond quickly.

Admiral Sjen had been warned by Captain Öcellan. The Emperor would gloat and would insult and berate her to show everybody his greatness and power. The Emperor would strut around, inviting everybody to see his power and might and the Admiral’s begging and subservience. He would likely actually say it: ‘Look at the humans begging … I am the greatest Emperor, the one that got the humans to their knees’. The Admiral would have to act pleased at the attention he got from the Emperor and try to stop her face from turning red from anger.

The great golden doors of the Emperor's court in the Ultimate Disruptor opened majestically. Admiral Sjen walked onto the golden floor, inlaid with diamonds, with her head bowed down, not looking the Emperor in the eye. She stopped at a line in the golden floor at the centre of the court. Along the sides of the great court, the rows of golden seats were filled with dignitaries eager to see the coming spectacle. The Wooden Benchers on the inner ring of seats were dressed in old rags. A new way of humiliating them and pleasing the Emperor.  The Emperor spread his arms and turned around so everyone in the court could see it. ‘Now you all see it for yourself. I have personally brought the stupid humans to their knees. They are begging me for mercy. Sad, so sad. Shall I give them mercy? Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. I don’t know yet. Maybe it depends on their gift. Will the gift please me, the greatest Emperor ever?

The Emperor fell silent. The Admiral was standing still, head bowed down, not looking at the Emperor. The Emperor went on. ‘So, you sad little human, what is your gift?’

The Admiral turned his head up and looked the Emperor in the eye. ‘You know Captain Öcellan of the battle of Esteron, my Emperor?’ The Emperor snapped at the Admiral, ‘You dare to bring up that name in my court? You stupid little idiot! You have nothing! Nothing, you hear me?’. 

The Admiral swallowed and suppressed her anger. This idiot was going to die; she just had to play her role. ‘Captain Öcellan is your present, my Emperor.’ The court fell quiet. The Admiral looked the Emperor in the eye and said, ‘Not only that. She will be painted in 24-karat gold and wear a golden crown of golden nails torturing her.’ More silence. ‘And she will bow before you and kiss your feet. ’ This was too much for the court. It erupted in mumbling and little shrieks by the females present. 

‘Silence!’ the Emperor shouted. He looked intently at the Admiral. The Admiral went on. ‘Of course it is only befitting of your majesty’s greatness that the gift will be given at an appropriate place. Earth.’ The Emperor looked pleased, but one of his advisors whispered something in his ear. ’No, not Earth. Do you think I am stupid? So sad!’ the Emperor said. Admiral Sjen feigned disappointment. ’But your majesty, it should be a place of great importance to your majesty, one befitting of the greatest Emperor ever!’ the Admiral said. ‘It should be a place where your greatness is most great, where your enormous achievements are evident, where the odds of your victory were unimaginably bad. A place where you can shine with Captain Öcellan at your feet.’ There was silence for a while as the Emperor was pondering the many options. ‘Tpoy,’ the Emperor said. The court mumbled approvingly. ‘Tpoy, where I had my first unimaginable victory against stupendous odds! Nobody could have won there, only one as great as me! The greatest Emperor and warrior ever!’ The Emperor looked around smugly, taking in the greatness of this idea and the approval of the court. ‘You are too stupid to come up with that; humans are so sad, and they have no cards to play. Tpoy it will be, you ridiculous little human’. ‘And it will be tomorrow at noon’. ‘Now go. ’

The Admiral left, walking backwards, continually bowing to the Emperor. ‘Tomorrow at noon you will die, you arrogant little shit,’ she thought.

And so it happened. The humans had prepared the Tpoy system. N-missiles were spread around the system so there would always be one near enough to the Ultimate Disruptor. They were in stand-by mode so they would not radiate their presence to the Ultimate Disruptor and would not be found by the security party that would undoubtedly check the system before the Emperor arrived. 

Captain Öcellan was prepared in the UESS Abyss. Naked, painted in 24-karat gold. Skin and hair all gold. On the side table lay the crown. Gold, with sharp nails pointing inwards.

At one minute before noon, she stepped into a bubble ship and was shot to the exact spot where the cargo bay of the Ultimate Disruptor would be at noon. Captain Öcellan put on her crown and pressed it into her head to start the bleeding. 

At exactly noon, the Ultimate Disruptor jumped out of faster-than-light travel, materializing around the bubble ship of Captain Öcellan. She was dragged out of the bubble ship by soldiers of the empire and brought to the Emperor within seconds. 

The Emperor gasped. This was an immense moment, an immense view; he could even smell the blood that was running down Captain Öcellan’s face. It felt almost sexual to the Emperor. Captain Öcellan looked down at the feet of the Emperor. 

Emperor d’Troof went on a victory tour around the court in the Ultimate Disruptor. He berated the human race, insulted Captain Öcellan, praised himself, and started again from the beginning. He was enjoying the moment. All that time Captain Öcellan stood still, blood now running down her golden face, neck and shoulders. The crown hurt; it really hurt, but to Captain Öcellan it was a good pain. The pain of imminent victory.

Finally, Emperor d’Troof walked over to Captain Öcellan and stood right in front of her.  He had orated for close to seven minutes. ‘Just a few seconds more, ’ Captain Öcellan thought. 

‘Now kiss my feet,’ the Emperor commanded. Captain Öcellan smiled. Not friendly, just cold, very cold. ‘Kiss my feet, you sad stupid little human! Now!’. Her cold eyes looked straight into his. She hissed loudly, so everyone could hear, ‘Never you bastard, never and no human will ev …’

That was how far Captain Öcellan got. The N-tunnel opened and within 2 microseconds the Ultimate Disruptor, Emperor and all, disappeared. And with him, soon after, the AA’AGTXQ empire. It destroyed itself in a civil war at a scale and ferocity the universe had not seen in a million years. It took only one Earth year. It was, so humans said, majestic.

22 July 2026

-/-

So this is a sister story of Warmth. You can read the stories in any order; whichever way you go the theme changes (Heat → Warmth = puzzle | Warmth → Heat = tragedy). I didn't plan on making a second story in the same universe, but a comment on Warmth gave me some inspiration to change perspective.

It's marked as a one-shot. You could read this by itself, but it is best complimented by Warmth.

Anyway, here we go...!

---

HEAT

Weird.

He was sure he wasn't in the same place he set up camp last night. The copse of trees he'd pitched the tent next to wasn't there, for one thing. The fireplace was still warm though, and it didn't take him too long to rekindle his tinder before setting some logs on top, ready enough for his morning cup of tea.

Grassland surrounded him; a beautiful vista of rolling hills and livestock paddocks welcomed him back to reality. Maybe he'd misremembered the trees.

It wasn't too far into town, and he planned on staying here for a couple of days, so he idly boiled the water in his kettle while relaxing in the spring weather.

By the time he started walking it must have been about 8am. He purposefully didn't bring a watch, phone or any other technology with him in order to really break out of the modern world for a little while. It was nice.

----

It took about half an hour to get to the outskirts of the hinterland town. It was quiet there – he only saw two people, a younger couple sitting on a dark stone seat holding hands in silence, eyes closed and facing the rising sun.

As he walked past them, they lazily opened their eyes, smiled in a befuddled sort of way, and watched him continue.

None of the shops were open yet, but this didn't overly surprise him. A lot of these places had business hours that were more conducive to the "sleepy country town" attitude than the bustle of the city that he was used to.

He sauntered through the main street, eyeing off storefronts that he would visit when they opened. The silence was odd though. He expected a few early-risers to be around, but there were none. Only the young couple.

It was strange architecture around here, definitely not what he expected. Dark stone buildings squatting boldly. Those seats placed all around the town. A local peccadillo, he supposed.

----

As he wandered, the town woke up. People started to walk around slowly as they woke from their slumber. A few nodded greetings to him as they walked past.

Eventually he found a café that was opening its doors.

Time for his morning coffee.

He entered the small shop and was immediately struck by the heat. Radiant lamps stood in each corner, bringing the temperature up to an uncomfortable level. At the counter he asked for a mug of coffee. The barista took his money and made the minimum effort of small-talk. A strange accent, he thought.

There weren't any outside tables, so he removed his jacket and sat down in the stifling heat near the window.

After a minute or so of the usual coffee machine gurgles, his coffee was served. A bit more conversation by the barista, this time slightly more welcoming. He took a sip, but the water was almost boiling. Wincing slightly, he put the mug back down.

As he sat waited for his coffee to cool down, he maintained the polite discussion with the barista who asked him where he was from, and talked about the town he was in.

Eventually the young lady asked, "Is the coffee ok?"

"No, I'm just waiting for it to cool down," he replied.

The barista raised her brows and gave him a quizzical look. She apologised for the coffee being too hot, and told him she'd check the settings on the machine.

"No problem. I've got time. It's fine; just a bit hot."

After a few uncomfortable minutes in the sweltering heat of the café, the coffee had cooled enough, and he sipped it down, watching a few locals come in slowly through the door. He could certainly empathise with the pre-coffee morning sluggishness.

By the time he finished his drink, the clock on the wall was showing almost 10 o'clock. Time to see what those shops were selling, he thought.

----

Outside the café, he saw more people sitting around on the stone benches. A few were holding conversations with each other, lazily looking around and slowly blinking in the sunlight. They all wore heavy coats and long pants, relics from the early morning cool.

He wandered along the street, but this time a few of the stores were open. He could get used to this lifestyle. Easy mornings, no high-pressure job.

The sunlight was warming up the air to a very nice temperature somewhere in the mid- to high-20°C range. There were hardly any trees lining the street, so he walked in the diminishing shade provided by the west-facing walls, trying to work off some of the sweat that had accumulated in the café.

The slight breeze on his skin felt nice, but all gains there were immediately wiped out when he entered the first shop. Again, it was frightfully hot, lamps again placed strategically in the corners, pumping out a disturbing amount of heat.

The shopkeeper seemed unperturbed by the temperature, and he assumed it must be a quirk of the region. Maybe they liked saunas?

----

It was a meandering day. He just walked around, cooling slightly between each stubbornly heated shop. Sometime during the morning he noticed that the seats were no longer used and the people started moving a bit more purposefully. Took them some time to warm up, he supposed.

After lunch he went to the hills for an afternoon hike, to see the countryside and revel in the moving air. "These people really like things hot, don't they?" he thought to himself as he wandered off. It was a warm day regardless, and yet the townsfolk were still using those heat lamps inside. What an odd place.

As the sun started to set, he made his way back to the campsite. His food was running low, so tomorrow he'd have to get some more supplies, but for tonight it was going to be a simple meal of beans and bacon.

----

Leaning back on the grass, he looked up at the night sky. The stars glittered above; one day he'll have to learn some of the constellations, he thought, but he'd had that idea every time he'd gone for a hiking trip. He knew he wasn't fooling himself.

The cool air was refreshing after the furnaces he had been in today. Things to remember for tomorrow: no jacket.

Camping always confused his body-clock. While he was sure it couldn't have been later than 9pm, the lack of artificial light made him sleepy so he retired to the tent. Tomorrow he'd have to find a shower.

----

Another dawn woke him up, like usual. The season was changing and he could already feel the cold night air leech away. Summer was on its way, but still a month off. A brisk morning walk would get him fired up and ready to go.

"Remember... no jacket." The brief cold this morning isn't worth carrying around the extra clothing every time he stepped inside one of the buildings in town.

Knowing that the local shops didn't open until around 9am, he took his time to prepare for the day. The fire was lit, the last of his bacon was cooked and a cup of tea washed it down.

He walked towards the paddocks where the cows were grazing. Like all cows everywhere, they looked at him with bemusement before getting back to their life of chewing grass. He found it relaxing just watching the beasts idle their way through the days.

When the sun had climbed the sky to about a mid-morning position, he trekked off towards town again. Time to find a shower and restock the food situation. Hopefully avoid some of the uncomfortably warm stores. Maybe spend enough time to have a pub meal in the evening and sink down a pint of cool beer; a luxury he hadn't had for a few days.

----

Walking through town, he noticed the people were still rugged up in their coats. For a mild spring day, this seemed unusual, but given the way they toast the inside of their stores, it didn't seem that remarkable in itself.

What he did find strange was the way some of the townsfolk stared at him. Was he doing something wrong? Did he have snot hanging out of his nose? Weird.

He found the town's main hall which doubled as an information centre. Preoccupied with both the worrying amount of attention he was getting, and the hope that he'd get directions to a public shower, he'd forgotten about the furnace conditions inside the local buildings.

The entrance was a grand affair, presenting a long hall into the reception area.

The floor felt strangely warm, the polished dark stone showing flecks of sparkles through the gloss. Half a dozen heat lamps lined each side of the hall, radiating an oppressive amount of warmth.

He was glad he didn't bring a jacket. Sweat immediately started to bead on his skin, and he could feel the back of his shirt moisten against his backpack. A shower was definitely needed now.

----

He spoke to one of the helpful staff members behind the information counter. Despite the temperature, the assistant was wearing a coat. Beside her was a steaming mug of soup and she seemed unaffected by the greenhouse heat. She wasn't even sweating, while he felt like he was covered in the stuff.

She gave directions to a public amenity block towards the rear of the building and mentioned that it was a coin-activated system. He jingled the shrapnel in his pocket and smiled, telling her he was prepared for this.

As he turned away, she bid him farewell: "Stay warm."

He replied his thanks, even through his confusion. It felt hot; staying warm was not going to be a problem.

Finding his way to the showers, he looked forward to some cool water. After setting himself up and feeding some coins into the machine, he looked at the single mixer tap in the cubical. It looked inviting, and he turned it all the way in the cold direction before stepping into the stream of water.

For a moment it was nice. Sweat washed away under the cool spray. That sensation only lasted a few seconds. With startling efficiency the water warmed up; not by an intolerable amount, but just enough to get him frustrated at the design of this town which apparently only ever wanted heat.

He didn't take long to scrub off the last day-and-a-half of sweat and dust, and stepped out relatively quickly. He would have liked to have had a relaxing cool shower, but whatever. This minor detail just annoyed him.

After turning off the water, overhead heat lamps suddenly burst into life. Radiating a ridiculous amount of warmth, he had to dry himself quickly and dress as fast as possible. He needed to be outside. He needed the breeze.

----

With just a t-shirt and shorts on, he stepped out of the amenity block. The cool air of the gentle wind made him slightly less grumpy, but the layout of the building meant that there was precious little shade anywhere to be found. While the breeze cooled him, the sun heated him.

Finding what little outside shelter he could, he stood for a while. The walls were too warm to comfortably touch or even be close to, and the stone seats were like a stove.

This town was weird. What is wrong with everyone here?

As he stood, the sun kept its inevitable afternoon decline. Soon – despite the ridiculous town planning – shadows stretched through this little square off the main street. He started to reach a temperature that wasn't disturbing. It would have been nice to sit down, but there was nowhere suitable to plant himself. Everything radiated heat.

A father and his small son walked through the square. The man asked whether everything was ok. "Are you warm enough? Got the 'morning cool'?" he said in his strange accent.

What the hell did that mean?!

"No, I'm fine, thanks. Just waiting a while."

Another curious look. "There's some sun over there. Maybe that would help?"

While he could tell that the father was trying to help, it was hard to not get frustrated. He just needed to stay cool! Why couldn't these people understand?

"I'm ok. I won't be too long here," he replied instead of showing his agitation.

The man and his son moved off, the little boy asking why someone would stand in the shade. The response from the father was too muffled to hear. And to be honest, the care factor was approaching zero.

----

He waited for another hour or so until dusk had properly arrived. There was a slight chill in the air now, enough so that the breeze wasn't needed to whisk away the sweat.

Pub time. A meal and beer. They can't possibly mess that up...

----

Of course, the pub was blasting heat like it was going out of style. It felt like a forge inside; heat lamps scattered throughout the building radiating a wall of uncomfortable warmth.

He ordered a simple meal at the counter and asked for a cool beer.

"A cold beer? Why?" the barkeep said, an incredulous tone to his voice. "Where you from? That's something I've not heard of before."

"I've been walking for a couple of weeks. Maybe we do things differently out there," he replied, tactfully avoiding both naming the city and raising the ire of the man behind the counter. "Just a beer, thanks."

The pint glass wasn't cold. It wasn't even room temperature. Somehow, the beer was warm.

Maybe they can mess this up.

----

The meal came out and was as delicious as he'd hoped it would be. At least they do hot food right. Washing it down with warm beer seemed like sacrilege, but anything was better than nothing. And there was no evidence of chilled water anywhere.

He decided that this would be the final night in town. He'd leave in the early morning, where he assumed that nobody would be around to see him.

Looking around the steaming hot pub, he noticed the few patrons were treating everything like it was all normal. Standing or sitting in small groups, laughing and talking like any other pubs anywhere. It was a welcoming thought, but then he noticed a distinct difference between him and the others...

Nobody was sweating.

He was drenched from both the stifling heat and the warm beer. The others? Nothing. They were behaving like it was just another night.

As he stood to leave, one of the wait staff asked if he'd like them to order a heated car for his trip home. He declined, but could immediately feel an element of panic set into his chest.

This isn't right. Nothing is adding up. I need to get away.

----

The walk home through the cool evening air calmed him somewhat, but he had resolved to leave early morning tomorrow.

----

He didn't sleep well that night, but at least it allowed him to rise early. "Crap. I forgot to go to the shops." The previous day's frustrations were giving him grief now, but he still didn't want to stay. He packed his small tent and camping gear into a hiking pack, shouldered it all, and made his way to the road. This should be the most direct way home.

He was glad for the meal he'd had last night, but with no breakfast or bottled water ("Do they even sell that stuff here?" he wondered), this was already setting out to be a miserable walk.

Just before the sun rose over the horizon, he made his way past the outskirts of the town. The pre-dawn light was enough to navigate by, and when he'd finally cleared the scattered buildings he realized that he had been feeling pensive this whole time. Now that home was the next destination, his sense of disturbance abated.

By the time he'd gotten to the highway and the sun was just over the horizon, he was sweating and cranky. His heart was thumping in his chest and it was difficult to maintain concentration. He kept reminding himself of where he was headed, giving himself the motivation to keep going.

"If only I had a drink. Sheesh, it's hot," he mumbled to himself as he trudged along the deserted road. "Damn that interminable town!" He could feel his anger rise further, and his thoughts – as scattered as they were – kept returning to the ridiculous nature of the place he's just left.

As he continued, he got more and more cranky. And thirsty. He was fixated on getting out of here. Get home. Back to normalcy. At least he wasn't sweating any more.

In the distance he could see an overpass. "Shade," he thought in a detached sort of way. He watched his feet trudge on. They weren't following a usual rhythm, but he was not concerned. It was like it was happening to another person.

He continued following the road. Home.

First | Previous | Next

“Let’s see that again,” Everthane Tower Chronomancer Hadran said evenly before reaching out his hand which was still encircled by the yellow discs of Chrono Magic instructions that slowly spun around it.  He turned his hand like he would some kind of knob causing the illusion images in front of his hunting party to reverse in time, then stop.

After he tapped a sigil that slowly circled his hand, the images began to move forward in time again, replaying what had happened just a few nights before.  This time, the images had sound.  Hadran had done this for so long that in almost all cases what was said wasn’t as important as what needed to be seen.  Yet, this time, he didn’t spare the mana and had put forth that extra strain on his resources and concentration to hear what had been said.

They watched it play out again where they saw and heard what had happened within that Inn’s room.  A ten-person mercenary team had been humbled so much that they resigned from their contract on the spot.  Yet, while they’d heard that, it was what their target had done so casually that had caught all of their attention.

Hadran slowed the vision down to study the beastly woman casting her stone to flesh spells.  Sonja Messentier, their abjurer also watched intently to it and at the teleportation.  The hunters and eldritch blades studied the woman herself.  Neither Hadran nor Sonja dressed like mages today.  Instead, they too had dressed like the fighters and hunters.  Close fitting leather padded outfits of either brown, grey, or deep red respectively that were comfortable, easy to move in, and full of useful pockets and pouches.  They were a team so they dressed the part.  Hadran had led similar ad hoc teams like this over the years, so he made sure that they felt like a unit instead of random people trying to get along.

Hadran paused it just before the mercenary leader called it quits.  “She didn’t use a spell.  This is a magical beast ability, I’m certain of it now.”

Sonja grunted.  Then asked, “How’d she turn them to stone though?  That’s mid-level at best and these guys don’t look like amateurs.”

Standing back to think about it, Hadran glanced over to Sablenoir to ask, “Question for you. Have you any experience with basilisk?”

Sablenoir flipped her blonde braid from one shoulder to the other before leaning back on Tomok’s arm and shoulder.  He was sitting on the floor because he was almost too big for the room itself.  She was thinking about it, probably for a bit too long, yet Hadran didn’t push.

“I do.  We’ve gotten contracts a few times to take a few out for their obvious wealth and such.  The stares aren’t that difficult to avoid.  And if you have the proper counterspell ready, the stoning can be reversed.  But honestly, none of those guys should’ve been turned like that.  Either they should’ve been able to withstand it and shrug it off or they should’ve been able to avoid her gaze.”

“Watch her reverse it again.  See the difference.” Hadran said patiently before rewinding it, then let it play out in slow motion again.

Sablenoir took a few steps then studied the woman and choked on what Hadran was trying to point out.  “Fuck me.  She didn’t stare at them.  She cast it from her mouth.  How could she do that?”

Sonja had stepped up and had watched it too.  “Hadran, you keep saying a Chimeramancer EATS magic and magic abilities.  Do you think she ATE stone-stares from basilisks then just what… puked them out again?”

“I’m saying that from what we’re looking at, that’s exactly what she did.  Worse, you’re right that normally it’s mid-tier at best but if my assumptions prove true, she’s COMBINING them to create higher tiered versions.  Think about it.  These people weren’t prepared to defend against a basilisk ability, they didn’t know she’d cast it from her mouth, and likely they couldn’t have known that she might be able to make them more powerful than anyone could know.”

“Those are a lot of assumptions, but they SOUND probable,” commented Tomok from where he still sat.

“This woman… chimera… she’s not going to be easy to subdue.  Her body is literally an amalgam of at least ten elite creatures.  She’s clearly a shapeshifter and is able to use magic in an unprecedented fashion.  If they couldn’t take her by surprise, I highly doubt we will either.”  Ixianth, the Eldritch Blade Ladyscale Knight commented while running her green scaled dragonkindred claws around the illusion of the beast woman like she was trying to touch her.  She turned her bright red eyes to Hadran to see what thoughts were cranking through his head.

The other Eldritch Blade, a dark elf named Ellidiander ran his hand through his short white hair.  “It’s obvious that we’re outmatched here.  We can’t pretend otherwise.  Neither of you mage types know all of what spells she can use nor what magical beast abilities she might have at the ready.  Sablenoir confirmed that she’s at least got over thirty just from the first few floors of Shinenoor.  We can’t counter all of that.  These guys proved it.  So, that leads us to outwitting her instead.  Doesn’t it?”

Hadran and Sonja looked at each other, then over at Ellidiander.  Sonja commented, “That’s a very astute observation.  If we can’t confront her, we should be thinking of how to trap her with something other than force.  Hadran?”

Hadran wiped away his chronovision then went to sit on one of the beds that was beside Tomok.  “Well, that’s probably safer.  However, the treaty I hold is a last resort because it’ll be a legal bomb that’ll bring a lot of immediate attention to our situation.  What we need is leverage of some type.  What can we get in front of her that will force her to meet with us and then we can sway her with reasonable words and subtle mind magic to get her to leave without a fight?”

Ixianth sat beside Sonja after she took a seat at the small table opposite Tomok.  Then she said, “Well, for something like that, Uthenda gave us the vouchers to secure a Bard.  Why not bring one in now and see what they can do?”

“I know one whose been rather successful in these types of missions.  He’s helped us both rescue a few women from bad situations as well as put a few others into them in order to ruin them.  He’s a real panty dropper, that’s for sure.” Sablenoir commented.

Tomok chuckled evilly.  “That’s why I won’t let Sable and him ever be alone together.  He’s a devious little runt and he relishes in it.”

“Look Tomok!  For the last time, I’m not interested in him!  Just because we were talking alone at that party doesn’t mean anything happened!  He’d just broken up with his betrothed!  I was comforting a friend!”  She said that with an exasperated toss of her arms.  When she looked around, no one looked at her with any sympathy.  None of them bought what she was selling.

Sonja leaned forward to put a point on it.  “And that’s what Bard’s do, my lovely.  They manipulate you into dropping your guard and pants just by telling you the lies you wanna hear.  I wouldn’t let you stay around him alone either. Hells, I DON’T even want to be alone around him either.  He charmed you and you still don’t even realize it.  To me, that’s one helluva reason to hire him for our supposedly naive runaway daughter, don’t you think?”

Hadran grunted an approval while Sable turned to look up at Tomok’s understanding face.  “You believe me right?”

“Yes.  Trust you.  No.  I trust myself to know when you’re able to think clearly and when your crotch is thinking for you. He’s too good at his job, my dear heart. That’s why I didn’t dump your ass that night. Now, no more arguing or you lose desserts for a week.”

Sable turned, huffed, stamped her foot, then sat on Tomok’s lap like a spoiled kid.  The group chuckled at her expense.  Tomok placed his arm on her lap where she immediately pulled it up to have him hold her fully.  She still had her mad face on, but she wasn’t going to apologize for needing to be comforted at that moment.

Hadran sat back to then talk out loud to everyone, “Fine, we get our Bard.  We coordinate with him to seduce her away from her safe places and feed her the lies that’ll at least get her out of the capital.  She can fly and teleport, so we need to counter those abilities.  She can shapeshift.  I think I know how to lock her out of that.  What we also need beyond planning out those details is our opportunity.  We need to somehow insert our Loverboy into her life in some way that doesn’t raise her alarms nor the Duke’s.  We find that, then we’ve got the rest.  So, let’s get out of here and start making inroads into the noble ranks for upcoming parties, celebrations, and other gatherings that a new bride to be to a Duke would be present at.”

Sablenoir asked from her spot on Tomok, “When is her Everthane tutor supposed to come?”

Smiling, Hadran said with some hope in his tone, “The Duke and Tobias had a discussion just yesterday with Duke Simon Dearborn and Uthenda.  Uthenda has run interference for all of us and smoothed over the request to the king.  The king and his advisors don’t really understand the danger the chimeramancer is presenting, but he does know that she’s very very dangerous.  It is so dangerous that he’s agreed to Uthenda’s request to place a trusted mage into the role of a tutor for our dear duchess to be.  So, two more days tops.”

Sonja got up to look out of the window while she spoke.  “A Bard and a tutor spy.  Not bad.  However, we still need something to get her attention, in my opinion.  I was able to speak with my uncle who helps with the castle’s food deliveries this morning.  He’s gotten word that our target is under the tightest security measures.  She’s never alone so even at these celebrations and such, our Bard is going to find it extremely difficult to manufacture something where she can be alone with him.  Unless we can manufacture something more directly with the tutor to the Bard.  Perhaps, our lady would like music lessons?  Or something else artsy that would pull her into his wicked embrace more naturally than some chance meeting in a ballroom?”

Sablenoir nodded approvingly.  “Hadran, I think she’s got us a decent plan framework. Still, we need to get the royal calendar and find out what the lady is attending, then we can talk to the tutor about recommending him.  He’s a Maciendes man originally, so it might work.  If not, we figure out another way to introduce them.”

Ellidiander barked a sharp laugh.  “T’would be a shame if the Duke caught her in the bed of another man.  Sure would be easier to snatch her away if she were being run out of the kingdom.”

Hadran shook his head negatively.  “Don’t count on it.  This isn’t some woman who’s tired of being neglected by her husband or something.  She’s being courted by a man of honor and that’s extremely hard to compete against.   Best thing we should shoot for is just getting her alone and talking to her in a reasonable fashion.  Give her the truths of her situation and persuade her to come back to Everthane for the good of her duke or some such mess like that.  Only if she tries to walk away, do we hit everyone with legal proceedings that they’re not ready to defend against.  Maybe we can take advantage of her in another way, but unless our Bard charms her completely, I don’t see it happening.”

Tomok chuckled low before saying, “Let’s get out of this cramped room and talk more about this over a proper dinner.  I’ll buy the first round.”

Sablenoir stood up, kissed the side of his head, then said, “If I admit that I got snookered, would you let me get a glass of Yaltherin wine?”

Tomok nodded with a smile.

“I got snookered and I’ll never let myself near a Bard again,” she said with as much humility as possible.

Tomok stood among the light laughter at their marriage manament.  “Two glasses because I believe you.”

Hadran was pleased about their team’s solidarity as they all followed a very happy Sablenoir and a pleased Tomok out of the cramped room.  They were on track to locking down the most dangerous creature ever to exist, he just knew it.

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---Maciendes Capital City – The Noble’s Shopping District where everything is exquisite and expensive.  Where the power of the upper classes show off to one another as a matter of honor.  Where a monster is walking the streets thinking that this is the grandest adventure ever while those around her were just guarding against it all going wrong. ---

There’s something very eye-catching when a busy shopping district gets invaded by a noble who brings not only four maids, a butler, but also ten soldiers with them to keep the populace separated from said noble.  Except the populace that had to move aside to make room for that many people attending that single noble didn’t know that the lady in the center of them wasn’t exactly a noble and those guards weren’t exactly protecting her from any of them.  Instead, those soldiers were under orders to subtly keep Isenwrath from either becoming overwhelmed by the sights and the thousands of people around her or to keep that lady from becoming… let’s go with irrational when something unexpected happens.

For Isenwrath herself, she just thought that Duke Maddock was being sweet again and doting on her.  He’d reluctantly stayed behind at the castle to resume his duties. He had a stack of papers from his manor to work through, meetings with the king, his advisors, as well as other politicians in the castle that day. Plus he was sending communications out left and right to set plans in motion for a certain love interest to come to his proper home.  Which meant he had no choice but to stay behind and worry about not being by Isenwrath’s side.  Which also meant that Scarlett Kiernan, his Chief Maid and Clovis Donavan, his Chief of Staff and Butler had arrived just in time to begin preparing Isenwrath for her fate as Duchess Devonshire.  Maddock didn’t worry as much, but still, she WAS a handful sometimes.

Princess Hayleigh had tried to join in on the shopping fun but was quickly shut down because her extra credit summer studies came first according to her mother, Queen Sophitia. Thankfully, she was able to schedule a shopping day later that week with Isenwrath and her brothers who were absolutely going to be destitute when they got done with those boy’s wallets.  But that didn’t mean Hayleigh didn’t have any say in the matter today. 

As soon as she found out about that shopping trip exclusion, she’d given Scarlett a payment voucher from her own savings account plus tea party dress recommendations for Scarlett to use.  The fancy tea party was in three days, so they both knew it would have to be a rush alterations job only.  Then custom dresses would come after that.  Which was pretty much Scarlett’s whole job that day.  Shopping mission priority one: Get at least five or so new outfits and/or dresses on order to be altered with more orders for a few custom ones to be delivered later.  The spare wardrobe at the castle just didn’t have all that a noble duchess would require for any length of time.

Isenwrath didn’t understand that thinking since she told Scarlett that very morning that she could just borrow one of the maid’s outfits for the day and she could wash the two dresses she already had in the big tub that was in her new room down the hall from the Duke’s.  She had even rolled up her homespun dress that she wore for a second day to show Scarlett, Helena, Clovis, and the others that she knew what she was doing.  And this time, she could do it better than when she had only one good working hand.

Yes.  Exactly.  That was abhorrent to Scarlett, Clovis, their maid staff, as well as Isenwrath’s new personal maid-in-training Daniella DeLancy.  The cute young girl was a short beast-kin with tufted black cat ears, wide golden cat slit eyes, a black cat’s tail, and the attitude to match.  However, one look between Isenwrath and Daniella was all it took for Daniella to lose that infamous stubborn streak she had to then gush all over at being appointed as Isenwrath’s personal maid. 

Scarlett had been so startled at the sudden change of attitude in her most irritating of appointments that she pulled the beast-kin girl aside just before they left to ask what it was all about.  Scarlett didn’t honestly know what to do with Daniella’s answer of, “You don’t sass someone who smells like a Dire Displacer Cat Matron. Whoever this noble lady is, she’s my matron now and I’m going to make her proud of me.”

That morning had been rather eye-opening to the new people in Isenwrath’s life for other reasons as well beyond how positively some like Daniella responded to her.  Especially during bath time when Helena had overseen that little adventure personally.  Scarlett was so perplexed as to why Helena had handed her a rolled-up newspaper to her until she glared at the beautiful future duchess who’d stuck out an impossible tongue towards the hot water faucet.  That lady looked at the two of them with wide fear-filled eyes because Helena had caught her.  “Isen,” she said low and sternly while showing her the newspaper.  Isenwrath pulled that tongue back in to then stare sheepishly at the bubbles in her tub.  The two other maids slowly resumed washing her hair not knowing what the hell was going on. Daniella also had a worried look on her face, but she persevered by getting the scrub brush ready for Operation: Washing The Lady, Phase 2.

Helena shrugged after handing the newspaper roll to Scarlett.  She whispered into Scarlett’s ear, “She’s a different kind of mage.  She eats magic crystals.  Don’t let her.  She really really doesn’t like the newspaper roll even though I’d never ever hit her with it which makes sense given her past.  So, other than bath time, just be easy with her because from what the Duke has told me in confidence, she was an abused child.  That doesn’t mean you let her get away with shit but be understanding in your admonishments.”

That sealed it for Scarlett.  She understood exactly what Helena had told her. She understood that look in Isen’s eyes too.  Much more intimate than Helena could guess.  This was because Scarlett had personally taken in a mother and her two sons two years ago to hide them away from an abusive drunkard of a husband and father.  The Duke didn’t hesitate to help them when she finally confided in him.  That evil man never saw his wife and sons again because of the Duke’s magnanimity.  From that time onward, she’d done her best to help those two boys learn to live and trust again. It was that as well as taking in an unruly beast-kin girl from Maximillian himself to help hide her and also try to get her to stop thinking she had to fight the world.  Thus, Scarlett knew how to treat this erratic woman in her midst.  That kind of irrational fear came from flashes of remembered pain.  Plain and simple.  Just like with Gregory, Ullyssus, and even to an extent Daniella, you didn’t use violence to help them learn and grow.  You used love and understanding to get through to them.  You get them to stop, to listen, to repeat the lesson, then show them how to move forward by being the example. 

That’s when Scarlett set the newspaper roll aside, then leaned on the tub to say, “My Lady.  I understand you want the hot water crystals, but we need them instead.  So, if you promise not to try to take them anymore, I’ll let you choose a morning snack reward instead.  A snack only, something small.  Promise?”

Those big blue eyes studied her for a few moments.  Scarlett saw the intelligence in those eyes.  Yet she also saw when they shifted over to naiveté too.  The woman then asked cautiously, “Can I have just one crystal with a whimsy in it?  That would be all I’d need.”

“Promise first.”

She smiled at her, then nodded.  “I promise not to eat the faucet crystals.”

“Good.  Then next time, I’ll have a snack ready.”

Helena was beaming at her in pride while Scarlett and she went to get Lady Isen’s clothes for the day ready.  Scarlett said matter-of-factly, “The Duke sent me a bunch of wild information about her in my summons.  The one thing I noticed was that she’s a reward driven lady.  You don’t have to threaten her, just reward her.  She’s going to be very easy to educate in how to be a proper noble.  Especially since I don’t have to use chocolates!  I won’t have to worry about her waistline!” she exclaimed in amusement.

Helena took it up, giggling about their fun new duchess to be. “I know right!?  The glutton for chocolate is that little monster on the bed!  Get down, Bubblescale!  Off my clean bed, now!”

Scarlett and Helena laughed when they shooed off the rainbow dragon from Isenwrath’s bed, even though she probably wouldn’t sleep there.  He grumbled a lot but obeyed.  Scarlett snagged a cookie from her pocket that she’d been saving for later, tossing it to him.  One expert catch and crunch later, that cookie was gone and a happy Bubblescale followed Scarlett around for most of the morning since he wasn’t allowed to go into the city with Isenwrath’s shopping brigade.  Scarlett hadn’t minded since she was used to three big dogs that belonged to the whole kitchen crew where they did much the same.  They were also good at keeping some of the vermin down in the castle gardens as well as some of the staff’s quarters.

So, Isenwrath was holding the hand of Daniella today while Daniella, Scarlett, Harmony, and Beatrice pointed out various sights and fun things the other nobles were showing off.  Bennett was in front of them with his fellow Isenwrath Personal Knight named Bronson Jonstone.  The two of them were clearing the way by holding up the Devonshire crests proudly upon pennant staff flags.  They wanted to be noticed and the people made wary.  Four of their guards were pulling small wagons that held bags and boxes of purchased items and didn’t seem to mind getting a chance to be out and about today either.  They wore the Duke’s tabards over their light leather uniforms, but their weapons were ready just in case.  They hadn’t bothered asking Thena to come for magical support.  Mainly since she just scoffed at such a request pointing to Isenwrath as if that explained it all before she headed out to make a quick teleport to the Tower to discuss the upcoming mage academy indoctrination and class schedules for Isenwrath.  The guards that day were proud and made sure to make everyone around them know it.  It was for everyone’s safety.  As well as a more public announcement that the Duke was favoring someone, and others should think a whole bunch of times before thinking the beautiful lady in their care was a mark for any shady shenanigans.  The gossip mill had started at the celebration of the army’s return.  It now had fresh ammunition from today’s excursion.

After the shopping brigade entered a third shop, this time for shoes where the soldiers fanned out to watch everyone, someone who might want to go against good sense pulled back into the shadows of a rooftop sign.  “She’s got too much security.  What’s so damned special about her that requires ten guards?”

The communication’s globe that the black-haired woman spoke to didn’t immediately answer her.  The woman who wore a generic pants outfit that would allow her to blend in with any crowd she walked through checked the front of the shop again.  They hadn’t moved much, just normal position changes and careful observations of anyone going in and out of that shop while the woman only known as Isenwrath was inside. 

Currently, the woman spying on Isenwrath had been tasked with learning everything about this famous Black Knight of Maciendes hero yet there was just nothing to find.  None of the registries in the surrounding kingdoms had anyone named Isenwrath.  Not for births, not for military service, not even for mage tower or adventurer guild memberships.  Nothing.  So, how could the Grand Duke of all people have this woman that came from nowhere on his arm.  Especially after it became obvious she was a mage of some type which was usually disqualifying in some way to being within the political circles of power.  The gossip from her introduction was still going strong.  And the whole of the Maciendes army wasn’t talking.  Not even most of the civilians who’d travelled with them.  No matter who she talked to, when she uttered the word Isenwrath, they just smiled, then said she was a good fit with the Duke.  They would talk about her prowess on the battlefield or how she helped with the cooks or that she helped with their wounded, but no specifics.  How was a gossip journalist supposed to earn a living with the hottest story to date with no one talking?

The dwarven man in her communication’s globe sighed.  “That’s what you’re supposed to find out, Steph.   So, go down there and find out.  Look, I just saw a petition for citizenship hit the judiciary schedules that had her name on it.  They don’t list a dynasty, just a petition to declare her as a Maciendes citizen.”

“That’s weird.  Have any of your contacts within the castle said anything we can use yet?”

“No.  She’s been kept isolated so far.  Only the royal family, the head maid, butler, and of course all of those guards.  They’ve intercepted everyone else and haven’t let anyone else get close.  That spectacle where she snotted a remove curse potion all over that duke isn’t something a normal mage can do.  I know there’s a story there that’s got to be told and you’re the girl who’s got the best chance to bring it to me.  The money we could rake in for this scoop is going to be astronomical, I can taste it.”

“Look, Stell.  I did find something but I’m not sure what it means.”

“What?  Anything could be the breakthrough.”

“I hit up a couple secretaries in the mage tower and they saw something odd.  Maximillian Maciendes himself is scheduling for this Isenwrath lady to be officially tested and currently, it’ll be with the next class of students.  So, that confirms that she’s a mage.  But here’s the thing that Jenet said that stuck out as odd.  There’s to be a demonstration afterward and it’s with their senior class.  That means whoever Isenwrath is, she’s a mage at or above their students’ levels.  If she’s not in the mage registries for the eleven kingdoms, where the seven hells did she get training from?”

“Good question.  Now, maybe this one should be asked too.  Why did the King’s steward send a request for rush delivery to the Tower this morning for a fresh load of arcana crystals of any quality and of any random use?  That’s what I called you about to perhaps ask our new lady.  I just got a copy of that invoice from Franksten in castle accounting.  Before you head home tonight, you need to drop by his office and give him the envelope I’ve couriered to your normal pickup spot.”

Steph sighed out with a bit of disgust. “Damn it.  He’s a smarmy shit.  You know I hate dealing with him.”

“He’s in love with you.  Come on lass, give him a chance.”

“No, I’m in love with Calvar and you know it.  Besides, he’s a creep and never meets my eyes, just stares at my chest.”

“Well, it’s a nice chest.”

“Shut up, you dirty dwarf.  Just for that, I’m going to tell your wife.”

“Girl.  Listen here.  I’ve got enough problems, don’t be addin’ to ‘em.”

“Take it back?”

“Yeah.  I take it back.  You’re the ugliest hag I ever did see.  Feel better?”

“Much.  Okay, I’ll check back in within three hours.  If you don’t hear from me, check the justice jail for me.”

“Will do, Steph.  Good luck.”

“You too.  Oh, and tell Madra that I made her bread recipe and it did the trick.  My loverboy’s family praised it as the perfect addition to their dinner.  I think I may get his mother’s approval finally.”

“That’s my girl!  Will do!  Now, go get that scoop!”

“On it!”

Steph tapped the globe to dissolve it, then put away her wand.  After standing up, she glanced over the roof ridge again and was glad the soldiers were still there and still chatting low with each other while still being wary.  Looking around she noticed that the day was getting late and likely they’d either visit one or two more shops, then head back for an evening meal.  Plenty of time to create a small chance meeting and try to get into some kind of good graces with the lady of no repute.

Steph pulled a mirror, checked her makeup.  “Good.  Not too flashy.”

Next, she straightened her clothes out, tucked her wand and mirror back in an expensive carry bag, then trotted back to the stairway and down into the bakery she’d ducked into.  When she passed the chef, she gave him a quick hug and got a muffin from his mom to munch on. 

Many businesses in the area had become Stephs’ family over the years because she did one thing that endeared her to them.  She told the truth.  When she heard something going wrong, she made sure the people involved were either outed or protected.  These businesses had had shady tax collectors or some touch of extortion trying to establish something under the king’s guards’ noses and Steph made sure that they were rooted out lickitysplit.  Thus, in the merchant and noble sections, she’d built a rather impressive network over the years that her boss Stell paid her handsomely for. 

Hopefully, this new scoop would give her enough commission to take her new love interest out to somewhere exotic to get into some baby making shenanigans.  Calvar was the silversmith’s son and apprentice.  Handsome, strong, stable, kind, and perfect.   Steph had tried to find love with some bad boys before and learned her lessons.  It just took an honest man with a wit so dry that he’d literally humbled lesser men that had grabbed her heart and she wasn’t ever gonna give him a reason to let her go.  Her new guy hadn’t even dated anyone before her, so she was rather proud to be opening up his worldviews… and bedroom views too.  His back shots were amazing and so was the silvered mithril bracelet he’d handcrafted for her birthing day celebration. 

Speaking of that bracelet, she let it twinkle again in the light while she made her way over to the shop with all of the guards.  Honest emotions like that helped her stand near all of those guards without raising their warning bells.  Leaning on a signpost, munching on her delightful thistian spiced muffin, she waited.  There was no way to get into that shoe shop at this time, so she’d have to follow them to another and gauge it for an opportunity.

When the noble lady and her retinue exited the shop, Steph was honestly impressed.  That woman was more beautiful than half of the population in the capital, including many of the elven women she’d ever seen.  She had a healthy laugh, her eyes took in everything like it was all a dream, and she even held a beast-kin maid’s hand without any of the normal reticence of most upper-class humans who associated with them.  That was because they were seen as one step away from demons themselves, unfortunately.  Sad really because Steph liked and was even friends with several, including the black cat-related ones that primarily resided near the shipping and manufacturing district.

While she stood there watching, the guards surrounded Isenwrath and the staff. Two of the guards who were likely the sergeants were right beside the lady too and chatting happily.  Then it happened and it almost made Steph choke on her muffin.  Lady Isenwrath stopped, then abruptly turned to look directly at her.  The look on her face held no emotion, but she and Steph definitely locked eyes with each other.  Then Isenwrath turned back, took a step, and it was like nothing had happened.  Thankfully a small crowd of hungry shoppers passed in front of Steph which gave her the opportunity to move away from that location so all of those around that mage didn’t spot her.

That one look shook Steph.  She’d never had something like that occur before.  But that didn’t stop her.  So, she did what she would normally do when a target was kind of in the know about her.  She used her mirror magic to follow the lady.  Taking out her small mirror again, she cast a very low level and low mana spell to snap into existence many more small mirrors down the lane.  Handy little spying devices that she could turn, tune, and move around as needed up and away from most people’s notice.  She had Isenwrath in her sights again as well as a way to watch where she went.  They crossed one of the scenic bridges that was over one of the waterways that broke up the districts with cooling water, a pleasant sight for the eyes, singing boatmen who provided fun tours and delighted the ears, and gave Steph an opportunity to catch up, then get ahead of them.  There was only one shop that these people would be heading to across this particular bridge.  Not that there weren’t any shops for nobles to blow their money in, but for a lady getting a new wardrobe, the only one that would be of any interest was the top-rated perfumery called Scents Beyond Divinity Boutique.

This time, Steph set up a spot across from the shop after sprinting across a secondary bridge then through some of the back alleys.  Sure enough, the first guards topped the bridge to head straight to her location.  If they took the next left, then Steph could cross the avenue and be directly in front of that perfumery.  She saw them take that left, smiled brightly, then sent her mirror network ahead and around that viable new location.  It was all set up when Step sat down at a small café to watch and wait.  The waitress soon found her and Steph decided to order some klaffein with honey and bandral cow cream to help keep her cover.  Within ten minutes, she took her second sip of the delicious drink to watch the guards spread out again and the others enter.  Twenty minutes later, Steph wanted to run screaming.

A hand clamped on the back of her neck, squeezing it.  Then a voice lowered to her ear to say low, “I don’t know who you are, but I’m skittish in public.  You’re watching me with mirrors and it’s making me extremely nervous.  I’m barely holding together as it is.  So.  You better tell me exactly what you want from me, or you may not make it home tonight. I will defend myself and I’m not known to leave bodies behind.”

Steph slowly turned her head to see that beautiful woman named Isenwrath’s face very close to hers and staring directly into her eyes.  The lady had that same expressionless look on her face, but there was no doubt in Steph’s mind that she was in deep shit.

Slowly, Steph sat her earthen mug on the small iron wrought table.  Then she said just as low, “I’m Steph.  I’m with a local newsletter that focuses on the nobles like their new business ventures, political stances, charity works, gossip and rumors, and exposing crimes they may commit in order to help the justice system do their jobs.”

“Oh.  So… you’re just wanting to find out more about Duke Maddock?”

Steph quirked her head at that.  “No.  You.”

“Why me?”

“Lady, no one knows who you are.  I want to tell everyone that.”

“Oh.  I’m Isenwrath and I’m Duke Maddock’s Sweetheart.  Is that enough?”

Smiling at the confusion that Isenwrath seemed to be having regarding what Steph was saying, she tried again.  “Where do you come from, are you a noble, what kind of mage are you, how did you meet Duke Devonshire, those are the questions I was sent to find out.”

“Oh,” Isenwrath stood upright, letting Steph go.  “That’s a lot of questions.”

“The one I want answered first is how’d you sniff me out like that?  I was being careful and respectful.”

Isenwrath shrugged to say, “You watched me like prey, not a predator.  Your wariness alerted me.  If you’d have been really hunting me, you’d have masked your presence better.”

“What kind of mage are you?!” Steph asked incredulously.  “Mages don’t do that, Beastmasters do!”

“I don’t know what kind of mage I am.  Not yet.  I get tested soon though.”

Steph sat back in her chair to study this woman, really study her.  “You know, ever since you were introduced at the victory celebration, a lot of people are interested in you.  Let’s do this.  Why don’t you just agree to an interview?  It’d save me a bunch of headaches.”

“What does it matter?”

Steph was amused by her confusion.  “Uhhh… because you ARE Duke Maddock’s Sweetheart, that’s why?”

“Oh.  But… he may not like me…”

“Lady Isenwrath!”

Both of them turned to see the guards from in front of the boutique marching over. 

“Hi Bennett!  Hi Bronson!  I made a new friend!” she waved and said excitedly

“My lady, she’s not your friend.  Please, come back into the boutique and don’t do that again.  Teleporting away from us like that isn’t rewarded.  Duke Maddock will be upset if we tell him.”

“Oh!” Isenwrath said with what looked like horror on her face.  “I’m.. I’m sorry!  I’m coming, I’ll…!”

Just like that, she was gone in barely a flash of blue.

Bennett leaned down to Steph, a warning clear in his tone. “Ms. Stephanie Vacquiran, while it’s an honor to meet you and we do appreciate your reporting, you will respect this friendly warning.  Do not approach her again.  She’s being protected for many reasons and none of them need to be known to the public yet.  The KING will give out the pertinent information on Lady Isenwrath when it’s appropriate, not before.  This is our only warning.  There won’t be another.”

“Are you seriously threatening me?” she asked with some shock on her face.  “My profession is protected.”

“Not THAT protected, Ms. Vacquiran.  And especially not from King Tobias Maciendes himself.  Leave her alone.”

Still not deterred, Steph leaned forward, “Okay.  Fine.  I’ll do that but do me a favor.  Tell Duke Maddock or even King Tobias himself that if they want to keep this from happening again, they need to let me do a proper interview with her.  The rumors are flying and no public announcement is going to stop them.”

Bennett straightened, then held out his hand, “Give me your contact information.  I’ll pass that along just in case the Duke finds that you may be right.  Otherwise, we’ll be watching out for you and others like you until then.  Deal?”

Smiling in a small victory, Steph fished in her carrybag for her small card that provided the communications rune she used for urgent messages.  “Here.  Please.. uhm…  Bennett, tell Lady Isenwrath that it was a pleasure to meet her and that I think she’s a lovely woman.  I actually can see why the Duke calls her Sweetheart.”

Bennett handed the card to Bronson, a larger shaved headed man who took it without taking his hard stare off of Steph. Bennett bowed slightly, then they turned to leave without any further discussion.

“Damn, that was intense,” she muttered to herself while she sipped her klaffein.

She got tickled because it wasn’t two minutes later that the whole group she’d tracked walked quickly out of that boutique with several bags but also a clearly scolded woman in the middle of them.  It was just so plain by the look of that bowed head, slumped shoulders, and at how the little beast-kin maid pulled her along as if she was in charge, not the other way around.  Whoever Isenwrath was, her leash was clearly very very short.  That in itself was something to make a big note of.

--- Duke Maddock’s Private Rooms within the Castle of Maciendes, The Study ---

It’s really hard to stay mad with Isenwrath.  Especially when she sat in front of him with her head down as if her whole world was collapsing.  Also, because when Daniella was both comforting her by holding her hand yet also giving her duke the play-by-play of what went wrong, practically scolding poor Isenwrath again, it was just even more comical.  She was at once protecting Isenwrath as her personal maid but also scolding her again as if she were a BIG sister.  Duke Maddock listened to the shopping spree story with his hand over his mouth and holding his chin to help hide his amusement while Daniella continued to tell what happened.

Bennett, Harmony, Bronson, Beatrice, Scarlett, and Clovis were standing back also trying to not break out in some mirth at this situation. 

“So, then we’re about to panic and charge out to go look for her highness but right before I get to the door, poof!  She appears next to the body wash and saying all kinds of apologies!  Duke Maddock Sire, I want you to know I personally scolded Lady Isenwrath for blipping off like that and not telling anyone.  She’s very sorry and won’t do it again.  But she needs to be told by you how upset you are but not too upset to put her in time out or something.  She is really really sorry, aren’t you my Lady?” Daniella then turned her semi-mad semi-worried face to her lady and nudged her hand.

“I’m really sorry, Maddock.  I got… I got distracted and didn’t think.  I won’t do it again.”

The little cat girl beamed in pride and patted Isenwrath’s hand.  Maddock just wanted to burst out laughing.  The others were trying so hard not to do the same.  Maddock finally cleared his throat and sat back.  “Thank you Daniella.  You’ve done well as Lady Isenwrath’s personal maid today.  My Lady?”

Isenwrath looked up, eyes wet, almost in tears.

“Sweetheart.  You’re forgiven.  Just promise to stick with your retinue from now on and if you feel like something’s off again, let them know first before you act.”

Her soft voice came out a mix of relief and regret.  “I promise.”

“Now, cheer up.  I want you to go to your rooms and pick out one of your new outfits to wear to dinner tonight.  I’d like to see how pretty you are… and no. You’re not going to wash it.  That’s why I’ve hired Daniella and some others to help you.  I just want you to be yourself and enjoy something with me tonight.”

That got her to smile shyly at him.  “Okay.  I’d like that.”

“Good.  Also.  If you ever get approached by someone like Stephanie again, you’re not to talk to them.  Not until after your official debut.  There are things that must be slowly digested by the public and that’s what me and Maximillian are working on.  Understand?”

She nodded rapidly.

“Excellent.  I’ll see you in a couple more hours then, Sweetheart.”

“May… May I?” she began to ask.

Maddock immediately got up, held out his arms and was overjoyed when she trotted around his desk to get in a comforting hug and kiss on the head.  She relaxed then was able to leave in peace.

The four soldiers stayed behind to speak with Maddock while he resituated himself.  Bennett took charge of this.  Bronson set down the reporter’s runic contact card while he spoke.  “Sire. Isen has the instincts of a hunter.  She knew the instant someone was beginning to track her.  If she hadn’t acted, we’d have not known.”

“It’s not so surprising if you think about it.  All those magical beasts she incorporated have probably honed her senses beyond what even sense enhancement spells can do.  I’m just glad it was a reporter she sniffed out and not someone meaning to do her harm.”

“Speaking of that reporter, she may have a point.  Are you going to try and hide her till the debut or are you going to let out more information?”

Maddock sighed a little.  He glanced over to Harmony, then to Beatrice.  “Bea, what do you think?  You and Harmony have a good read on Isen, how do you think she’d do in an interview?”

Harmony shook her head while Beatrice leaned on her hands on Maddock’s desk.  “In a word, not too good, Sire.  She’s too erratic and unstable.  I wouldn’t trust a reporter to not ask truly goading questions that might piss her off or make her run away.  The slips she makes of the abuse she’d endured would definitely come out during an interview like that and I don’t believe that’ll be in her best interests.”

“That’s my judgement too.”

“Sire.  Here’s what might be best.  She needs that etiquette teacher and we all know it.  Maybe let her start with that, Isen’s unpredictability.  Don’t worry too much about posture, dance, or what to do at a table yet.  That stuff others can teach her until later.  But she needs to think about her words before she says them as well as her actions.  That’s when she’s most childish, in my estimation.”

“Huh. Good observation.”

Bronson then spoke up with his deep voice.  He was one of the stoic guards that Maddock liked and respected a lot.  Hence why he was paired with Bennett to be come Isen’s second set of personal knights so they could alternate.  “Sire, if you want, my youngest sister is an etiquette teacher for the textile mercantile guilds.  She’s business focused meaning that she teaches young men and women who’re entering the trade to deal with other people, negotiate, present themselves in positive ways, and more.  It’s not a royal education, sure, but it might actually be more in tune with what Lady Isenwrath requires.”

“That’s not a bad idea.  I just got a message from the Everthane Tower that they have a mage tutor heading our way.  Between the two of them, it might just give Isen a decent crash course until I can enroll her in something more specialized.”

Beatrice stood erect, putting her hands behind her back.  “What’s a mage tutor going to teach her?  She’s insanely powerful as it is.”

“Not a damned thing in my opinion, but this is something me and Dearborn agreed to.  The tutor is Everthane’s spy to tattle on Isenwrath’s actions to ease their minds.  Duke Simon Dearborn sent me a personal communication about it this morning and he’s intrigued.  He hasn’t informed the king yet because he agreed to let me do that through the proper ceremonies and such.  We should see her within a day or two.  Bronson, call your sister and let me know her rates.  You can tell her that I’d be willing to double it if she’ll make Isenwrath exclusive for a while.”

Bronson grinned at that.  “Will do, Sire.”

“Sire, one more thing.” Bennett said next getting very serious.

“Yes?”

“I’ve heard a rumor and it’s got to be more than a coincidence.”

“Oh?  What rumor?”

“My sister and I have been exchanging letters regularly for years now.  She and her husband own a tavern at the Everthane border that sees a lot of traffic from the Carlisle estate and Forthington’s.  Sire, Duke Carlisle has a missing daughter.”

Maddock shot up, “What?!”

“Meg got word from one of their guards who was heading back across the border to visit family that Duke Carlisle has a missing daughter named Cassandra and he’s desperate to find her.  This guy was drunk off his ass, but the way Meg described it, the guard said he’d never seen the likes of the change in the Duke.  He described Cassandra as the duke’s bastard and beaten child that not even the guards would take pity on.  She was twelve, Sire.  This guard was thinking of desertion because he described a bloody scene in the attic that he’d witnessed.  Meg wrote a lot more because it was juicy and she was hoping to get me to steal Mom’s dandapple pie recipe for her.  But essentially, something happened to cause the duke to suddenly love his beaten daughter and nearly go berserk when he’d found her missing.  Not dead, but missing, and with a chronomancer’s help, the drunkard bragged that the vision showed she’d literally flown out of that attic.”

Maddock leaned forward, “Give your sister that recipe then bring me that letter.  None of you speak of this.  Definitely don’t tell Isenwrath.”

Nodding smartly, Bennett reached into his vest pocket, then produced the parchment that was three pages of carefully handwritten gold to Duke Maddock.

He took it slowly, then looked up at Bennett.  “When I first met Isenwrath, she confided to me that her real name was Cassandra but the spirit she joined with both healed and changed her into the woman you know as Isenwrath.  She refused to be called by that name ever again and I vowed to respect that wish.  However, the legacy of that trauma Cassandra suffered still severely haunts her as you’ve all witnessed.  When I confront this bastard at the right time, I want you all to know that I'm going to make him pay for every damned wound on her soul.  Isenwrath deserves justice.  I vowed that in front of Harmony and Beatrice that first day and I vow it again now.  I’m going to burn the Carlisle’s to the ground, no matter what it takes.”

“Sire.” The four of them said in unison as they saluted in absolute agreement.

Maddock saluted them back, then he said, “Dismissed.”

The four of them left him returning his office to its previous quietness.  Maddock sat down, read that letter twice, committing the details to memory, then tucked it away into his safe.  He now had Isenwrath’s dynasty name and the first piece of evidence that he needed to destroy that dynasty.  Seemed the fates were in favor of that road to perdition for the Carlisles too.

Index - First Chapter - Previous Chapter

I lost the better part of an hour on Saturday morning to a sign that had not changed.

It hung over a shoe repair on a corner I had already walked past twice, gold letters on a green ground, and something about it stopped me the way a wrong note stops you a half second before you can name which note it was. I stood across the empty street from it with my heart going and read it four times. By the fourth time I could not have told you what I expected it to say instead. There was no other version in my head to hold it against. There was only the certainty that it had moved, and no memory anywhere of where it had been.

That is a bad way for a man to start a day when his entire method rests on his own eyes.

It was the Saturday of the long weekend, and the towns had gone quiet in the particular way they go quiet before a holiday, half the storefronts dark behind hand-lettered notes about being closed Monday, the other half keeping short hours nobody believed in. I had come up out of a church vestibule that left its side door unlocked for exactly the kind of man I had become, and I had slept the four hours a hard pew lets you sleep, and I was out on the street early because a man asleep in a church past dawn is a conversation I did not have the face for. So the wrongness caught me on no sleep and no food and a nervous system that had been reading tiny errors in the world for two months straight, and I could not for the life of me tell whether the shoe repair sign was a seam the way FROOT LOOPS had been a seam, or whether the seam had finally worked its way inward and started showing up on the inside of my own eyes.

I had felt a version of this once, back when the first copies were still warm and I started catching myself unsure which small things I actually remembered. I had put it down then and walked away from it, because there had been work to do that did not leave room for a man to sit and doubt his own wiring. There was work to do now. The doubt did not care. It had been waiting the whole time for a quiet enough morning, and a holiday town on four hours of pew sleep was quiet enough.

Here is the trouble, laid as plain as I could lay it while I made my legs carry me off that corner. The entire plan, the whole reason any of this was worth a walked-through county and a woman with a floppy over her ribs, rested on one claim. Humans notice. We catch the edits. We are the one instrument in the whole operation that registers when reality gets a patch, which is the only reason there is a story to tell instead of a smooth and silent world nobody ever questions. I was the proof of that. I was the man who had noticed first and would not stop. And I was standing on a corner unable to tell a real edit from my own fatigue, holding the one instrument the plan depended on and watching the needle drift for no reason I could name.

An instrument you cannot trust is worse than no instrument. No instrument, you know you are blind and you go careful. A bad one, you keep steering by it right off the road.

I needed to check the meter against something that would hold still, and a memory will not hold still, mine least of all. So when I came into the little downtown and found the war memorial in its square, a low granite block with a flag pole and a chain fence and a man on his knees beside it pushing small flags into the grass for the weekend, I stopped, because a stone is the one kind of witness that does not get a kinder morning.

The man was gray and unhurried, old the way the good ones get old, a cardboard flat of little flags on wire stems beside him and maybe a third of them already in the ground in a rough line along the base. He had a cushion under his knees and a windbreaker with a unit patch I did not know. He glanced up when my shadow reached him and went back to the flags, having decided I was neither a threat nor any help.

"Morning," I said.

"Is," he agreed, and pushed another flag home.

I read the memorial while he worked. Names in two columns under a dedication line, the letters cut deep and filled dark, a couple of wars' worth of the town's dead. And it happened again, worse this time because I was watching for it. One of the names sat wrong on the stone. Not misspelled that I could prove. Just wrong, the way the shoe repair had been wrong, a shape my eye rejected while the rest of me had no idea why. I felt the whole cold machinery of it start up, the same certainty with no memory attached, and I understood with a kind of despair that I had never seen this stone before in my life. I had no baseline. I had been in this town for under an hour. Whatever my eye was flagging, it was flagging it against nothing, which meant the flag was coming from inside the instrument.

"Can I ask you something," I said. I heard how it came out and softened it. "You from here?"

"Born up the road." He sat back on his heels. "Sixty years I have been putting these in for the weekend. Ask."

I pointed at the name that would not sit right, a Kowalczyk near the top of the older column. "That one. Do you know it? The family, I mean."

He looked where I pointed for a while. Longer than the question deserved. "Knew a whole mess of them," he said finally. "Farm out east of here, before it was all the tollway. Good boys." He frowned at the stone. "Thought there were two of them up there, tell you the truth. Brothers. But it is only the one." He shrugged, the shrug of an old man who has learned not to trust the small print of his own head against a wall of cut granite. "Memory does what it wants. Stone is stone."

There it was, the whole thing, handed to me by a man planting flags who had no idea he had said anything. He half-remembered two and the stone said one, and he did not argue with the stone. He could not know whether his own head had smoothed a brother out of the world or simply misfiled him after sixty years, and it did not matter to him which, because he had long ago stopped keeping the count in the one place that forgets. He kept it where the letters were cut deep and filled dark and did not move when he was not looking at them.

I stood there and let it land, that the old man on his knees had solved for himself, without ever needing the words, the exact thing that had been eating me since the shoe repair sign. You cannot verify the world by asking a room full of people, because every last one of them is running the same soft and editable instrument you are, and a hundred people agreeing that they remember it the other way is not proof of anything except that the patch was applied to all of them. Consensus is just the edit, distributed. The stone was the only honest party in the square. Not because it was smarter. Because it did not have a memory to overwrite.

"You want to plant a couple," the old man said, not looking up, "there is room on the end."

I did not have the minutes and I took them anyway, because my legs wanted to and because a man needs to do one thing on a Saturday that is not about the machine. I got down on the cold grass beside him and pushed a dozen small flags into the ground in a line I tried to keep straight. The wire stems went into the soft ground easy and stood there shivering a little in the air coming off the street. He worked the middle of the row and I worked the end of it, and neither of us said anything, and the square smelled like cut grass and the particular cold that comes off a stone that never quite warms all the way through. It was the closest thing to rest I had had in a week. When the flat was empty I stood up and my knees told me about it and I thanked him, and he said the thing his kind says, which is nothing, just a nod, and I left him there with his stone that remembered better than either of us.

I got two streets over before I made myself take the photograph out.

I had been carrying it since April, the real one, the small square print with the rounded corners gone soft at the edges from the jacket. My fifth birthday. I did not remember the day. That was the whole point of it, the reason I had carried it out of the apartment when I left almost everything else, because it was the plainest evidence I owned that my own instrument had been into the shop before, years before any of this, and come back with pieces missing. There was a boy in the picture who was me by the arithmetic and a stranger by the face. Behind him a cake, and a paper banner taped along the wall with my name on it in a proud shaky hand, and the name on the banner read WESTLEY, with the extra letter, the misspelling my mother made once and I kept, the single detail of that entire day that survived in me when everything else had been quietly zeroed out. I could not tell you who was at the party. I could not tell you what I wished for. I had one wrong letter and a feeling, and the print in my hand to prove there had been more.

My mother was at the edge of the frame, young, caught turning toward the boy with a look I did not have any other copy of. The photograph remembered her knowing me. She had stopped. She was across the city this morning handing the warmth I remembered to people who had never been her son, and they got the living woman and I got a square of paper, and I had made my peace with the shape of that a while ago in a radio booth. What the photograph was for today was smaller and colder than grief. It was calibration. It was the proof, in my own hand, that the instrument the whole plan rested on had a known defect from the factory, because the factory had been in and edited it while I was five and I had never once caught them at it. If they could take a birthday and leave a misspelling, they could take a shoe repair sign or a dead man's brother. They could take my faith in my own eyes, and I would stand on a corner feeling the wrongness and never be sure it was not just me.

Which brought me around to the thing I had been circling since Kestrel and had never once said straight, about the other half of the instrument, the half that looked from outside like something grander than it was.

I had always run a little ahead of trouble. There was a build in ninety-six, a Tuesday, where I got up from my chair and crossed the pit to the test rig for no reason I could have given you, and the rig locked hard the second I put my hand on it, and Old Pete looked at me across two rows of monitors like I had answered a phone before it rang. I had not heard anything. I had watched that module drift wrong all week the way you watch a crack crawl across a windshield, one cold morning at a time, and my legs had added it up a step before my mouth got there. People who saw the crossing-the-pit part and not the quiet week behind it wanted it to be a gift. It was not a gift. It was six years of doing nothing but watch how things break, until the breaking had a smell and I caught the smell a step before the noise. The Architect read the near future the same way and called it his whole world, a man reading a build before it ships. I read builds too. Mine was just the smaller shop. Take the mystery out of it and what was left was a tired man's pattern sense running a half second early, and I was content to leave it there. Mostly.

Mostly, because there had been one morning, years back, where the running-ahead did a thing pattern sense does not do, knew something clean and specific that no smell could have carried up the wire to me, and I had spent a long time since deciding not to lay a single load-bearing beam across it. An instrument that lies to you on a quiet corner does not get to be believed on the one morning it seemed to tell the truth. I filed it where the old man filed his brother. Unproven, and not thrown away either.

I put the photograph back inside the jacket, flat against the floppy, my soft record against my hard one, and I stood in the empty street and finally turned the whole miserable morning around to look at its other face, because that is the only thing that has ever gotten me off a corner.

Here is what I had. An instrument I could not trust to read the world clean. A method that lived or died on that instrument being real. It looked like the plan had a crack running straight through its foundation, and for most of the walk I had been standing on the crack staring down.

But the thing about a reading that changes the instant you look at it is that the looking is the whole problem, and the looking is not only mine to do. I had been sick over the fact that I could not observe my own noticing without disturbing it, that the act of checking the seam moved the seam. The Architect had the same disease and did not know it was a disease. His entire operation was a measuring rig. It read the week the way you read a build before it ships, and reconciled what it read back to the model. And a measuring rig has exactly one blind spot, which is anything that changes the reading by being read. That was me. That was the whole of what off-map had ever meant, said in a word I had been too tired to reach for until a man handed me a flag. I was the fault in their forecast that stopped being there the moment they tried to read it forward.

And the crowd could be the same.

That was the turn, standing on a closed street two streets from a stone. The reason the coordination problem had felt like a wall I could not climb was that I had been picturing the crowd as a list, my list, people I would reach and light, every one of them a name the org could watch me write down and roll a truck to. A list is a thing you can measure. But a bug that only shows up when nobody is instrumenting for it is not caught by better instruments. It is caught by accident, by a user who was never on anyone's test plan, doing a thing nobody scripted. The crowd I needed was not a roster I built, because to build it was to expose it. It was strangers I never touched at all, picking a loud cheap thing up off a public channel and passing it hand to hand for their own reasons, uncounted because no one had ever gathered them, un-pullable because there was no list of them to pull. The org could revert every name it had. It could not revert the people it had never measured, and the only way to make a crowd it had never measured was to build one I did not touch either.

It did not solve the reach. I still did not have the country-sized channel, and the holiday and the empty street had no answer for me on that. What it solved was the shape of the thing I was looking for, which had been wrong all week. I had been trying to assemble an army and hand each soldier his orders, and every order was a flare. What I actually needed was to strike a match in a dry field and be nowhere near it when it caught. The people who carried it would be people I could not name, which had felt like weakness right up until the morning a war memorial taught me that the only witness worth anything is the one nobody can reach in to change.

I would have to become for their whole operation what the shoe repair sign had been for me all morning. A wrongness with no baseline. A reading that would not sit still long enough to correct.

I turned back toward the arterials with the photograph flat against the floppy and the stone at my back, still not sure whether the sign had moved or I had, and no longer needing to be sure. The plan did not require my eyes to be clean. It required them to be unwatchable, which, whatever else the last two months had cost me, they finally and completely were. Somewhere ahead was a channel I had not found and a match I had not struck, and behind me an old man was standing up off a cushion in a square full of flags, keeping his count in the one place that would still have it long after the both of us were somebody's kinder morning.

First / Previous / Royal Road / Patreon (Read 30 Chapters Ahead)

XXX

When Chase awoke the next morning, he couldn’t help but notice two things. The first was that he’d apparently been so tired the night before that he hadn’t bothered to even strip down to his underwear before falling into bed, which meant his clothes reeked.

The second was that Victoria wasn’t in the room with them.

His brow furrowed at that particular realization. It was enough to snap him out of the stupor the sheer rankness of his clothes had trapped him in for a few seconds.

“Hey, Carmine,” he called out.

“Urgh…” Carmine grumbled as she rolled over onto her side. “Why did you just wake me up…? You really couldn’t give me fifteen more minutes?”

“Victoria is missing.”

“So? She’s probably in the bathroom or something. Did you even bother to check that before waking me up?”

“No.”

Carmine let out another annoyed grumble. Chase took the implicit cue she was giving him and threw his sheets off, then marched over to the bathroom, knocked on the door, and waited. After a few seconds, there was no response, and so he threw the door open. Sure enough, it was completely empty.

“Yeah, she’s not here,” he surmised. “Get up. We need to look for her.”

“Do we really?” Carmine asked, again rolling over onto her side, keeping her eyes closed the entire time. “Seriously, Chase, she’s probably just out for a walk or something.”

“Carmine, there is someone out there hunting down her siblings. She’s in danger so long as she’s wandering the streets alone. We were literally just kidnapped merely for associating with her. We need to go find her before something bad happens to her.”

“Alright, alright, you’re made your point,” Carmine conceded. “Just… give me five minutes to actually wake up, please.”

Chase’s eyes narrowed. Without another word, he marched over to Carmine’s bed, where she was still lying with her eyes closed. She heard him approach, because she cracked one eye open.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

Chase said nothing, and instead reached down, took her by the head, and shoved her face into his armpit. Carmine struggled in his grasp, gasping and sputtering, but he held her there for a solid five seconds before finally letting her pull away. She fell back onto her bed, still gasping for breath, her eyes wide.

“You awake yet?” he asked. “Because I can put you back in if you need it.”

Carmine sucked in a few more gulps of air before fixing him with one of the harshest glares he’d ever seen her give him. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” she growled.

“That doesn’t answer my question. Do you need to go back in or not?”

“Gods above, no! I’m up, okay?!”

“Good.”

“You realize I am going to literally light a fire under your ass for that at some point, right?”

“Just so long as you’re up. And hey, now that you’re up, we can finally get to searching for our missing friend.”

Carmine let out an annoyed grumble even as she threw the covers off herself and stood up, then stretched out a bit. After a few seconds of that, she reached for her pack, took her street clothes out, and disappeared into the bathroom. She was only gone for a few minutes, and when she came back, she was dressed appropriately, though she still had an irritated look on her face.

“Did I get changed in an acceptable amount of time, or are you going to bitch about that, too?” she demanded.

“No, that was quite alright,” Chase said. “Anyway, let’s get going.”

“You don’t want to get Melanie first?”

“That depends entirely on if you think she’s done with her fuckfest yet.”

“So that’s a no, then.”

“Most likely.”

Carmine’s brow furrowed. “You know, I didn’t think the human body had that much fluid in it. That can’t be good for Heinrich.”

“Probably not, and yet somehow, I can only imagine that he feels great despite that,” Chase commented. “Anyway, let’s get going.”

Carmine nodded, and the two of them stepped out of the room together.

XXX

“Hey, Innkeep. Did you see our friend head out this way earlier?”

The large, bearded man sitting behind the counter eyed Chase with a look that just screamed he wished he was speaking to anyone else except him and Carmine. Finally, after a moment, he let out a sigh.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, but my name is Frank,” he said tiredly. “Thank you for your patronage and all, but seriously, I even have it on my name tag. The least you could do is use it properly.”

He motioned to the small tag pinned to his chest for emphasis. Chase was unperturbed.

“Yeah, okay,” Chase said dismissively. “Anyway, seriously, did you see our friend pass by earlier or not?”

“The girl in the black robes, you mean? I’m pretty sure she’s still getting piped upstairs.”

“No, the eternally pissed Paladin.”

“Oh, you meant the other one,” the innkeeper acknowledged. “Yeah, she disappeared out the door about an hour ago, right when I was starting my shift.”

“Did she say where she was going?” Carmine asked.

The innkeeper shook his head. “No, she looked pretty lost in thought. I didn’t want to disturb her, and it wasn’t my place to ask, anyway.”

“Fair enough, I guess,” Chase said to him. “Can you at least tell us which direction she went in?”

“Yeah, she left out the front door, then took a right. I think she wandered down that way for a bit, but eventually she got too far for me to keep following her through the window.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Innkeep.”

The innkeeper sighed. “I told you, my name’s… ah, to the hells with it…”

Chase gave the man a friendly wave, then motioned for Carmine to follow after him as he marched out into the city streets. The rest of the Deus Oasis seemed to be waking up at this time, as the streets were starting to fill with people; not surprising, given that, by his estimation, it was around nine in the morning. It did make their search harder, though, much to Carmine’s chagrin.

“Chase, no offense, but I don’t think we’re going to find her unless she specifically wants to be found,” she offered. “Seriously. The streets are starting to fill up, and we still have no idea where she is.”

“Then we’ll just have to ask around,” Chase insisted. “I mean, what else are we supposed to do?”

“Aside from interrogate Greg some more? Nothing, really.”

“Exactly my point. And we can’t really interrogate Greg without her, so as far as I can see it, our options are to either go looking for our missing friend, or sit at the inn and listen to Melanie get plowed over and over again.”

Carmine shuddered. “Okay, when you put it that way, looking for Victoria makes a lot more sense.”

“Perfect, glad you agree.” Chase turned to look down the street, searching in the direction the innkeeper had designated for them. “Frank said that she went this way. It looks to me like it continues on straight for a few blocks, then opens into an intersection. I think what we should do is head to the end of this street, then start asking around the shops and seeing if anyone might know more. Wash, rinse, and repeat until we get onto her trail.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Carmine conceded. “If you don’t mind, I’ll let you handle the talking, though – you have a knack for it, and I don’t.”

Chase shrugged as the two of them started walking. “Honestly, talking to people isn’t hard. I don’t know why the rest of you struggle with it so much. And don’t say it’s just because of low CHA, either – that can’t be it.”

“I just don’t like people very much.”

“Neither do I.”

“I don’t know, then,” Carmine admitted. “It’s like… when I act like an asshole to someone, they get mad at me for it. When you do it, somehow it works.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, then. Maybe try not being an asshole to people and see if that works?”

Carmine just stared at him like he’d grown a second head. Chase let out a tired sigh. “Never mind…”

XXX

“Oh yeah, the pissed-off Paladin. Yeah, I saw her pass by about an hour ago; she went that way.”

Chase gave the shopkeeper a thankful nod. “Many thanks, ma’am. We appreciate the help.”

The young woman in front of him – a pretty brunette around his age – smiled at him. “No problem, I’m happy to help! You come back any time, now.”

Chase waved her off before turning and walking away. He made it down the street before Carmine got his attention.

“She was flirting with you, you know.”

“Ha-ha,” Chase deadpanned.

“No, I’m serious,” Carmine insisted. “She liked you.”

“She was just being nice.”

“Chase, I am begging you not to be stupid about this for once in your life. Speaking as a woman, I can tell you when a woman is trying to flirt with a man, and that was definitely flirting.”

“How would you know? Last I checked, you’ve got literally zero romantic experience.”

“Call it a feminine intuition, then, I don’t fucking know. That’s not the point, though – the point is that she was interested in you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got bigger fish to fry right now,” Chase insisted without looking back.

“Okay, but you can always go back after we’re done looking for Victoria. Unless you’re scared of flirting back or something?”

Chase scoffed. “Of course not.”

“So then why are you so resistant to the idea of going back and hooking up with her?”

“Because I’m not interested in her. Is that good enough for you?”

“Why not?”

“She’s not my type. Dead serious.”

For the second time that day, Carmine stared at him like he had spontaneously grown another head. “...You’re stupid,” she declared.

“No, I just know what I like.”

“And what do you like, hm?”

“Redheads. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Oh, of course. I’d expect nothing less.”

“Hey, you asked.”

“I did. Hells, at this point, I’m not sure why I bother asking you questions, because I never seem to actually like the answers you give.” She let out a huff. “Anyway, good to know you’ll turn down a girl if she’s not to your specific tastes. I’ll be sure to file that information somewhere in my mind for later.”

“I’d like to remind you that we’re pretty busy right now and can’t afford distractions like that. One party member being out of commission due to having too much sex is bad enough, you don’t need a second one falling into that, either.”

“Who said anything about sex, Chase? All I’m saying is that she was pretty and she was into you. You’re the one making it more complicated and weird than it needs to be.”

Chase’s only response was to let out a tired sigh as the two of them continued walking.

XXX

Name: Chase Ironheart

Level: 10

Race: Human

Class: Warrior

Subclass: Swordmaster

Strength: 20 (MAX)

Dexterity: 15

Intelligence: 13

Wisdom: 13

Constitution: 18

Charisma: 16

Skills: Master Swordsmanship (Level 10); Booby Trap Mastery (Level 8); Archery (Level 4); Unarmed Mastery (Level 1)

Spells: Rush (Level 7); Muscle (Level 4); Stone Flesh (Level 6); Defying The Odds (Level 2)

Traits: Blessed

Name: Carmine Nolastname

Level: 10

Race: Greater Demon

Class: Arcane Witch

Subclass: Archmage

Strength: 10

Dexterity: 13

Intelligence: 19

Wisdom: 19

Constitution: 12

Charisma: 8

Skills: Master Spellcasting (Level 10); Summon Familiar (Level 10)

Spells: Magic Dart (Level 7); Magic Scattershot (Level 5); Fire Magic (Level 5); Earth Magic (Level 1)

Traits: Blessed

Name: Melanie Vhaeries

Level: 10

Race: Ascended Human

Class: Necromancer

Subclass: Arch-Lich

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 13

Intelligence: 18

Wisdom: 16

Constitution: 15

Charisma: 12

Skills: Raise Lesser Undead (Level 10); Raise Greater Undead (Level 3); Unorthodox Weapon User (Level 8); Bone Shatter (Level 1)

Spells: Touch of Death (Level 5); Gravesinger (Level 7); Armor of Bone (Level 3)

Traits: None

Name: Victoria Firelight

Level: 11

Race: Human

Class: Paladin

Subclass: Devotee

Strength: 19

Dexterity: 9

Intelligence: 13

Wisdom: 13

Constitution: 19

Charisma: 11

Skills: Swordsmanship Mastery (Level 5); Blunt Weapon Mastery (Level 8); Archery Mastery (Level 5)

Spells: Holy Light (Level 6); Ward of the Gods (Level 5); Bane of the Undead (Level 7); Divine Bolt (Level 4)

Traits: None

XXX

Special thanks to my good friend and co-writer, /u/Ickbard, for all the help with writing this story.

​

Humans live faster lives than most. Their time runs out like a candle with two wicks. And they age so... Visibly. You can see them losing their strength and colours as their hair turns ashen gray and white. But that is also what makes them so brilliant.

They are the brightest flame, consuming their wick the fastest. While they might not live as long as we do, within their short existence, they bring the most light and warmth to this cold space. And, like bright fire tends to do, when mishandled or carelessly roused, destruction.

I was still a young trainee, around 207 solar years old, when our crew got our first human worker.

I had not yet learned much about humans, but I was curious and excited about meeting them. After all, it wasn't every day you got to meet a new species.

First contact with humanity had occurred mere months earlier, and we were among the first fleets to employ their species.

Much about them was still unknown and shrouded in mystery, and vast majority of the little information available, hearsay and rumours.

Understandably, no new species wants to openly give all their information to the wider galaxy they have yet to know and experience.

It usually took decades or even centuries to get just the basic information of a species' biology recorded. It was honestly impressive how trusting humanity was, already sending their own to work on ships owned by other species, nearly immediately after first contact. Their adaptability speed must have broken records.

His hair was the colour of burnt copper, and eyes turquoise blue like the ocean planet of Verais 7, while his pink skin was filled with small copper brown dots.

He bared his teeth with the energy of a blazing sun. We had been briefed about some of their body language observed during first contact, such as this "smile" of theirs, that was meant to signal joy. It was quite an odd gesture to see in person. On most species with teeth, showing them would have seemed aggressive, but for some reason, when he did it, it felt almost warm.

He straightened his back as he addressed the crew in an enthusiastic voice

"Pleasure to meet y'all. I'm Alex, the new maintenance technician. I have much to learn, but am looking forward to working with everyone!"

“my name is [•၊l|l၊••၊|။l|l။‌‌‌‌‌၊|•]. I'll be working with you starting today. Let us get along.”

“Thanks buddy, likewise.” He nodded quickly, and then rubbed the back of his head for a moment. “Uhh… sorry though, I don't think my tongue bends in ways that would allow me to even attempt that. Can I just, like, call you by a nickname or something?”

“A nickname?”

“You know, like a name people call you that isn't your real one.”

“Feel free then.”

“Hmmm… I feel like ET would be a bit too on-the-nose… How ‘bout Cosmo??”

“Cosmo it is, then.”

As fate would have it, we ended up becoming cabin mates.

He seemed to learn faster than anyone I had ever seen before. Not only did he memorize new information at incredible speeds, he also quickly started to apply what he had learned in new ways he hadn't been taught. In the evenings, he could be seen experimenting with various chemicals and materials, trying out the seemingly endless stream of ideas he came up with, his eyes burning with passion.

I often found myself watching him from my bunk as he worked at our shared desk, scraps of metal and wires scattered around him like a nest. He would hum to himself in his alien way, low melancholy tunes and melodies, tinkering with his tools to the rhythm. Sometimes, he looked up and caught me staring, and he would bare his teeth again in that strange, warm way — and I found myself mimicking it, though I have no teeth to show. It made him laugh every time.

He asked questions constantly. Why our ship’s walls were curved instead of angular. Why we used saltwater in the cooling system instead of ammonia. Why the corridor lights flickered for a moment whenever the engines transitioned into or out of FTL. No detail escaped him. Sometimes he would even crawl into the ducts to see for himself how things worked. More than once, I had to pull him back out by his boots, his hair full of dust and his grin bright as ever.

For a while, life settled into a steady hum. Work, repairs, fuel stops. Shared meals where he insisted on swapping bites of carefully chosen food, ensuring I could taste alien flavors safe for my species. Nights stretched long as he stayed up late, sketching intricate diagrams on scraps of paper or building tiny machines from spare parts, humming softly as the lights of distant stars flickered through our porthole.

“Do you know what I miss most about earth?” Alex asked one evening while gazing out into the vast expanse.

“Seasons. Real day/night cycles. Sun rising and setting beyond the horizon. Just the feeling of time passing. Here, it often just tends to… Blend together, ya know?”

“I don't quite, actually.” I replied. “We have clocks and calendars. They're not all that hard to follow.”

“Yes. But they're all so artificial. Sometimes it's hard to tell whether it's been 10 minutes, hours or weeks…. I'm not quite sure how to explain it… It's like time just stopped, but also ran through my grasp like sand at the same time.”

"Do you regret coming?" I asked.

His laugh was sudden and bright. "Hell no! Are you kidding? I get to see space. Real, actual space. Stars and nebulas and-" He gestured wildly at our small porthole. "Do you know how many humans would kill for this opportunity?"

"Then why speak of missing things?"

He was quiet for a moment, his smile softening into something more contemplative. "I guess... you can be grateful for where you are and still miss where you've been. It's not either-or.”

It was a night like any other, our shift had just ended, and we were eating and chatting in the mess hall. The ship had slowed down to a drift for a while to cool down the warp engines from continuous FTL travel.

Alex was looking at the swirling nebulae passing by through the large windows spanning the entire wall behind me.

“Ship to the spaceman! Your food is getting cold”, I said to the technician entirely engrossed in staring at the swirling clouds of gases and dust

“Hm?” Alex blinked, pulled back from whatever thoughts had captured him. "Oh. Right. Sorry. In my defense, I doubt the temperature really makes a difference in how appetizing the slop that counts as ‘food’ here is.”

“It's confirmed to be edible and safe for humans. Not to mention very nutritious.”

"Everything terrible is always 'very nutritious.'" He said, as he scooped up a spoonful in resigned acceptance.

His face scrunched up as the utensil reached his mouth. “Okay, you were right about the temperature. It's somehow so much worse when cold.”

He gestured behind me with the spoon “That view though… it makes even the bland cafeteria food worth it.”

I sighed. “I have seen hundreds of nebulae. They're nice to look at, sure, but hardly something to make such a fuss over.”

He let out an exasperated groan. “You are exhausting, you know that? What, are your species incapable of feeling awe and wonder or something?”

“I will have you know I am plenty capable of-”

Suddenly Alex let out a loud gasp, and his utensil clattered against the tray. He was completely frozen, staring out the window.

I followed his gaze and turned to see what he was looking at.

Massive, winged, bioluminescent forms glided through the void of space next to our ship, just outside the glass.

Their wings, or maybe fins, rippled with patterns of light that shifted through colors I couldn't find words to fully describe. Vibrant cyans shifting to blues, and pinks bleeding into neon violets like watercolor on paper. They moved with a grace that seemed to mock physics, their massive bodies navigating the vacuum as easily as fish swimming in the water.

The mess hall had gone completely silent.

Even crew members who had been deep in conversation stopped mid-sentence. Trays forgotten, meals growing cold, everyone simply stared.

"What..." Alex's voice was barely a whisper. "What are they?”

“Star-rays.”

The only species known to have achieved spaceflight through biological evolution alone. They travel from planet to planet, and dive through nebulas as if they were simply ocean waves.

Seeing them was said to be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, even for the longest living of species.

“How can they survive out there?”

“If I remember correctly, they breathe hydrogen, and store compressed filtered atmosphere in specialized organs and muscle and blood. They have incredibly slow heart rate and can control blood flow to specific organs. Their skin is highly radiation and temperature resistant, and they can enter long periods of suspended animation.”

One passed by mere meters from the ship shields.

It must have been at least four hundred meters across, maybe more. Its body was almost translucent in places, as if the creature was made partially of the void itself.

“Nobody knows exactly where they're originally from, but scientists had theorized they originated from a low gravity planet, aiding their evolutionary path to space.”

No matter how I tried, I don't think my words could capture or explain a fraction of the magnitude of what we were witnessing.

“It's debated whether they should be considered sapient," I continued anyway, trying to make sense of it all myself as I explained what little I knew. "Some say any species capable of reaching space, regardless of the method, should be classified as sapient, others argue their intelligence, which is still unknown, should be considered for that judgement.”

“So, how about you?” Alex asked “What do you think? Whether or not they're sapient, I mean.”

I went silent for a moment, before answering:

“I think… it doesn't matter either way. Their very existence is something unique. Something that wakes awe that words can't describe.”

Many myths are told about them. Some say the first spacefarers used them as guides, following them through the uncharted space. And many believe them to be the first species to have reached space in the first place. They were believed to bring solace to the lonely, and guide the lost to home. Some reports even stated they led rescuers to damaged ships in the vast vacuum of space, earning them nicknames such as void guides and guardians of the lost. Catching even a glimpse of one was believed to be a good omen.

Unlike many of the ship crew, I wasn't really the superstitious sort, but seeing with my own eyes, I could understand why the stories persisted.

We watched until the star rays disappeared into the distance, their light fading like dreams at waking.

One lingered for a bit longer, circling the ship as if inviting us to join them, before finally following the others.

Then, it was gone.

The mess hall stayed quiet for a long moment after. Then, slowly, the spell broke. Crew members began to move again, to speak, although quieter than before. Some rushed to check if the sensors had recorded anything. Others simply returned to their meals, though I noticed many of them kept glancing back at the window.

Time flew by, and the days settled back into a quiet routine.

I watched as Alex struck a match, and placed it on top of a pastry he had brought from the mess hall, and then blew out the flame right after.

“what are you doing?” I asked

“A birthday cake.” Alex replied, as if it were obvious “It's my birthday today.”

“Birthday?”

“Literally the day of my birth.” he explained “Well, I mean the date… July 23rd. Not that I was literally born today. I lived through yet another cycle of our sun. On Earth, we usually celebrate this with cake and gifts and songs. …Well, at least where I'm from. I hear the traditional cuisine can vary by locality. ”

“So what does this have to do with setting the pastry on fire and extinguishing it?”

He shrugged, “It's just a tradition. Usually we use candles though, but for now a match is a good enough substitute. We blow out the flame and wish for something, and according to superstition, the wish is supposed to come true.”

“What did you wish for?”

“I can't tell you, or it won't come true.” he smirked, and then bit into the pastry.

In only five years, Alex had become an indispensable part of the group.

If something critical needed doing, or if someone needed assistance, Alex would be there. If something broke, he’d fix it, often before anyone even noticed it was broken. He’d figured out ways to recycle materials and resources that would have otherwise gone to waste, and practically turned his side of the cabin into his own personal workshop.

But somewhere in those five years, though I barely noticed it happening, small things began to change.

Faint lines started to be visible around the corners of his eyes.

He decided to try growing hair on his face, first just around his lips, then the rest of his lower face as well.

One evening, we had docked on a large station for trade and resupply reasons. We had gotten leave in the evenings during our stay, so we could explore the station and buy what we wanted for ourselves.

The market was bustling as they tend to be.

Vendors from hundreds of species sold wares of their homeworlds, yelling over each other in languages and ways so varied that the translation devices gave up trying to decipher any of it.

There, Alex first met Zara, a human mercenary guard searching for employment.

They seemed to get along almost immediately. I wondered whether it was because they were both human, that they could connect so easily.

When they exchanged contact information, for a moment, I saw a spark of something I hadn't seen before in his eyes, and every now and then I could swear he turned ever so slightly redder in colour.

After a few weeks, it was time for our vessel to leave again.

Alex wanted to say his farewells to Zara before our departure, but unfortunately we couldn't find her anywhere, and she wasn't responding to his messages.

“She must be busy.” I said. “Nothing that can be done about it.”

“I know. It's just a pity we couldn’t say our goodbyes in person before leaving.”

As we boarded the ship, Alex looked back towards the station one last time, as if hoping for some sort of sign or a miracle. But, unfortunately, miracles rarely occurred in reality.

After a quiet sigh, he turned towards the ship, and we finally stepped inside.

We went to our cabin to rest for a bit before the ship would depart and our shift would start. I couldn't help but notice him glancing towards his tablet. He really was as subtle as a hull breach alarm.

A sudden announcement crackled through the intercom. “All available personnel, please gather at the main lounge.”

The crew murmured quietly while drifting in. Nobody seemed quite sure what this was all about.

The captain slapped their tentacles together and the room quieted.

“We have a new crew member I’d like to introduce to you all.” they announced.

A side door hissed open, and a human stepped in.

Alex’s eyes grew wide, and my antennae twitched in surprise.

“This is Zara Begović. A human mercenary. She’ll be joining our security detail”

Against all odds, a small miracle had occurred after all.

Over time, Alex and Zara grew increasingly closer, and started officially dating.

Eventually, the two got married. A human ceremony and contract declaring their willingness to be a mated pair for life. Although, from what I heard, the contract could often be dissolved.

After ten years, Zara's contract with our ship had reached its end, and she had decided to return to earth.

Alex hugged her tight.

“I wish you could stay longer.”

“Me too, but we both know it's not a good idea for me to renew the contract now.” She answered

“I know. I just….” he sighed “I'll miss you.”

“Me too. But we can video chat every evening. And you can visit whenever you get vacations.” She kissed him on the cheek. ”We'll be waiting for you on earth.”

It had been 40 years since I had first met Alex, and it all felt like it had gone in the blink of an eye. His hair had started to fade, and many strands, both on his head and face, had started to turn gray. The lines on his face had deepened, and I could almost swear he had gotten slightly shorter.

Tonight was the night he was retiring.

“Do visit me on earth sometime.” He said, his voice warm and smile bright as always. “I'll introduce you to the best spots I know in town, and drink till the sun sets.”

I chuckled, imagining the two of us wandering crowded streets, sampling every little café and bar he claimed was the best. “I’ll hold you to that then. I'll definitely visit whenever the ship has business in the Sol system.”

20 years had passed since I last met Alex. I had become a fully fledged maintenance technician since his departure. And finally, our ship had returned to Sol once again. I couldn't wait to catch up with him, chatting about all the stories and experiences we'd had while apart.

I looked at the address he had once messaged me.

I knocked on the door. The person who opened looked much like Alex, but shorter, and from what I understood about humans, this one was female.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, I'm [•၊l|l၊••၊|။l|l။‌‌‌‌‌၊|•] , though you may call me Cosmo if you please. Pleasure to meet you. Do excuse me, I thought this was the address of a human called Alex. We're friends.”

“This is, officially, though grandfather isn't currently here. He's at the nearby hospital. I can give you the address."

The hospital was mostly white like the medbay of our ship, and smelled of alcohol based disinfectants and antiseptics.

A frail-looking man laid on the bed, various machines surrounding him beeping at steady rhythm. His hair was thin and now entirely ashen white. Pale rings, like clouds of smoke, framed his blue eyes, and deep lines ran down his features, accented by familiar copper brown dots.

He slowly opened his eyes, studied me for a moment in a stunned silence, before the corners of his mouth formed that unforgettable radiant smile.

“Cosmo, my old friend! Still the same as the day we met! You haven't aged a day.”

I sat by his side on a chair set up next to the bed. We gazed at the stars outside the hospital window as the sun set and then rose once again. We spoke of the memories we had made not too long ago, and joked around like nothing had changed.

In the end, though it felt far too soon, he simply closed his eyes and drifted to sleep, just like every other night, but this time, he never woke up again.

The world went on, unaware that the brightest flame I had ever known had been extinguished.

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