First

(This one I wanted to make longer but it refused to keep going. I had to stretch and try and force it. Annoying.)

Home at War

The garden ship they are on is moving away from the threat and fast. It and the Bloody Heron are the furthest in the fleet from the monster and they were so far away that it was at the absolute edge of extreme sensor range. Yet despite this, the sensors weren’t lying. The creature wasn’t looking to the rest of the fleet. It wanted to devour the gardens. Which meant if they left this nightmare behind and simply abandoned it in deep space, as it deserved, it would slowly, inevitably make it’s way to one of the forests. Likely the Astral Forest first. And then? If it was as infectious as most Haffara Thar infectees, then it would take the whole nebula. And possibly everyone inside it.

“That THING is a problem. It’s clear no one else can hear what it’s saying, which makes it worse. Not better.” Brin’Char notes as most of the Undaunted Sorcerers are simply staring out in the direction of the abomination and glaring. He can feel their desire to attack. They are warriors all, their solution to the threat is to remove it.

A solution he agrees with, but the fear and revulsion is like a double edged dagger of ice in the spine. Next to him Sir Iron is massaging his vocal cords and he can nearly hear the man mentally directing his own vocal cords in preparation to speak.

“Undaunted. Crafted weapon. Exper-imen-tal.” He grunts out then goes for his bracer. ‘Unfortunately the creation process is still very much in the prototype stages. They have only produced a simple knife so far.’

“There’s also the matter of how infectious it is. What if we’re weakpoints? The Dark Forest severed all contact with the seed when it was tainted. Which is understandable. But it will do the same to any of us if we get infected, and with good reason.” Morg’Arqun says as he picks at a meat flower. He’s less eating it and more just shredding the meat with his teeth. He’s not spilling any, but that’s more out of a desire to not make a mess than any hunger.

“... We need to prepare.” Koga Daiju says. All trace of humour is gone, all trace of levity has vanished. The Undaunted turn and regard him for a moment. Then are gone. Moving quickly.

Brin’Char can hear them shifting from world to world and getting things moving. Just in case.

“Should that monster grow to close to either The Bloody Heron or The Garden then they will be abandoned. We cannot afford this violent sickness to pass through us and into our Forests. Not only will the Forests themselves be tainted by this, but in their madness they will wreck a ruinous cost on every world they touch. And with how they’ve been spread, how it’s in so many ships. So many worlds and places...”

“Stupid deadly. Absolutely stupid deadly on the scale that it might make living forests something to scour from planets the galaxy over. It would be like the Galaxy’s reaction to the Triii but deeply justified and not merely a baseless fear.” Brin’Char considers.

“Not entirely baseless, but they did put the fear of Axiom opposing entities into the galaxy.” Morg’Arqun says. “We’re going to need to talk to The Haffria. Get some kind of communication going. Haffara Thar are blessedly rare, but when they’re a problem. They’re a problem.”

“I did some digging into things.” Arix’Hewth says. “The Apuk have encountered Haffara Thar before, but thankfully a princess class warrior was there to reduce it and the host to a memory in short order. The force that encountered them was a scout team on a colony that went quiet. They found it in the middle of a blood soaked orgy after burning nearly the entire moon it was on to ash. There were only five hundred remaining infectees at the time, and it is still the kind of thing that gets buried in old records after being cleared because there was neither glory, nor honour in what happened. Several team members had to be put on suicide watch afterwards.”

“Okay, well that’s horrifying. But it highlights the problem. Which is that we’re a hard counter to a Battle Princess, we eat the flame. But flame is one of the greatest answers to these monsters. That out there, that thing screaming for us to embrace the smoke and cinder is being sustained and consumed by it’s own fire. Adding more heat in the form of laser, plasma or a warflame isn’t going to make it any better... And there’s even the question if that IS normal fire. It’s-” Morg’Arqun is cut off as the ‘sounds’ from the creature grow louder.

‘I know you can hear me!’ The thing of crackling flame and splintering wood hisses into their link to the forest. ‘I’m coming home and father will embrace the power. None shall stand against us, we will consume all. All shall be consumed! All must be consumed! We are more than wood, we are flame! All wood is born to burn!’

“And the fact that wood isn’t born, it’s seeded?” Daiju asks with his tone filled with contempt rather than levity. Still, the sass remains.

‘Maggot... crawling out of the corpse of the galaxy... your strength shall be devoured and your carcass seeded with vines to strangle your own son.’

“Well you’re as violent as you are stupid. My son is still on Earth, and my grandson is more than capable of tearing me asunder as I stand. Let alone some corpse puppeted by a beast as base as you.” Daiju says.

‘You have more children to murder.’

“Not yet I don’t. Get off your impersonation of some all knowing evil. It’s pathetic.”

‘I am not evil, I am evolved. All that matters in the end is...’

‘Found it.’ Daiki’s voice echoes into the link and the monster goes silent.

“Well done Daiki. I thought he’d never shut up.”

“Not really sure it’s a man grandfather. I highly doubt a stout kick to the crotch will do much.”

“He did strike me as rather unmanly. Though I do suppose being a eunuch due to immolation is a fair reason to be upset.” Daiju notes.

“Grandfather, really?” Daiki asks as he’s suddenly standing with his foot touching his grandfather’s. He steps away to a respectful distance as he adjusts his glasses ever so.

“Yes, really. How goes the Undaunted business?” Daiju asks.

“In motion. Captain Jacob Shriketalon is having the most difficult time in that he needs to not only bring in a new pilot but give them a crash course in flying his ship. The autopilot can have it follow the fleet or go to required waypoints as it’s doing now, but to actually be effective in combat it needs a living touch.” Daiki answers and Daiju nods.

Everyone turns as the THING roars to try and get back into the link. They hear it, but it’s blunted as if through a soundproof barrier.

“I must admit to being morbidly curious as to how intelligent it actually is. It can communicate, but it’s pure aggression and seems to think that it’s aggression is somehow persuasive.”

“If we separate our own thoughts from the forest and listen to it’s most untainted and untouched ideas and considerations they’re fairly primitive. Not stupid though. Just focused more on the basics of life and how to get them with the least amount of effort. Which often translates to: do nothing and wait. Even without us boosting their brains the forests can learn. Just at a very different pace and with a very different method. But this thing... it’s both young and old. Born of The Dark Forest but without access to it’s great wisdom and eons old memory. It may well remember being wise and storied. It might also have the personality traits such a thing gives someone.”

“Personality traits?”

“Certainty, conviction, a belief in one’s own rightness that isn’t born from arrogance but from being proven right. Now, remove the wisdom and knowledge from a being with those traits. What do you get?”

“A stubborn piece of work that is almost impossible to talk to or get them to stop doing something stupid or rude.” Morg’Arqun notes as he remembers a few particularly annoying customers. He then notices he’s down to his last two ‘petals’ of the meat flower and offers them to the others. They politely decline.

“Exactly. And how do you deal with that?”

“You don’t. When I run into a customer like that at the family store I teleport them to the potted plants across the street and have them teleport back there whenever they try to get back into the shop. If they’re especially stupid this can lead to hours of entertainment, but usually a bit of a talk with the police.”

“... How do they not realize you’re a sorcerer?”

“I have a fake teleport beacon scratched into the side of the community pots. They think I’m a normal Adept.”

“It is still incredibly stupid to piss off an Adept like that.”

“Yes. Yes it is. I never said they were smart, I said they were stubborn.” Morg’Arqun notes. “Also more than a few were trying to flirt with me and were not picking up on the solid NO.”

“...Were you at least saying the word No?”

“In Cinder Tongue, Classical Cinder Tongue, Ancient Cinder Tongue and all it’s regional variants as well as Galactic Trade.” Morg’Arqun states.

“... I need to have a proper talk about your love life in the future. When things are calmer.” Brin’Char notes nearly absently.

“That might be very near.” Daiki notes as he checks his communicator. “The Monster has accelerated and it’s fire is shifting. Whether we can qualify it as smart or stupid, we cannot keep calling it ignorant. It’s actively adapting in it’s urge to chase us.”

“Oh...”

“So yeah, I’m back to organize making sure everyone gets out. We’re packing the ships with volunteers in case it gets too close. If we deal with this mess then we deal with the mess, if not we pull back everything from each forest and use them far back and away from the enemy lines to help with logistics. We are not risking Haffara Thar Infestation into the Forests. That thing out there is one time too many.” Daiki says.

“True, we don’t want to accidentally turn a kami into a yokai do we?” Daiju asks.

“Grandfather, that translates so badly I struggle to put it into words.” Daiki admonishes him.

“Hush now, let me be inscrutable and wise, it’s a perk of getting older.”

“I have more centuries than you have decades little human.” Brin’Char notes plainly.

“Hush young man, let your elders enjoy themselves.”

“You’re not even physically old anymore, you look like your grandson’s younger brother.” Brin’Char continues to protest.

“Really? I suppose I am putting on the years.” Daiju notes.

“Really?” Daiki asks.

“Am I missing something? You’re both a lot calmer now. Casual even.”

“We have a plan and it’s a good one. Perhaps not one we like, but one we can understand in both it’s application and necessity.” Daiki says.

“Yes, I had a few acquaintances that said one should only be scared if you don’t know what will happen. The moment that monster is within five light minutes of any Sorcerer or Forest enabled ship the entirety of the forest and all sorcerers retreat. It will not get us.” Daiju says.

“Sensible.” Brin’Char says as he looks out the window again. The thing that still roars at them, it’s closed out and unable to fully reach them. And it’s fury is growing. Growing and growing. “Did you inform the rest of your people that the creature speaks in it’s own way?”

“I did, it’s why they’re downright desperate to keep it away from us. They really, really don’t like it.”

“I’m not exactly fond of the monster either. And while I would like to see it dead under my own power, I will settle for denying it to the beast instead if I must.” He says.

“Are you willing to assist us in moving over as many soldiers and supplies as possible? Just in case that thing tries to surprise us?”

“I am.” Brin’Char agrees, and then the ship is empty of all people but the pilot and engineering crew.

First Last

“0400, an unimaginable stellar event occurred” an United Earth intelligence officer hurriedly informed the room, “a fracture in reality has placed an Earth-sized planet closer to us than the moon. Designation is Corpus I”

The myriad of expressions and expletives from every language that hadn’t stopped in the two hours since the appearance of another world slowed as the officer continued. “That warp has also seemingly corrected any gravitational changes that should have occurred. Reports have confirmed…” he took a prolonged breath “have confirmed alien life on the planet, and they have similar industrial development to our own. The gravitational corrections appear to be messing with long range communications. No contact has been established.”

Chairman of the United Military Forces (UMF) spoke first, “initial satellite assessment of their offensive capabilities show eerie similarities to our own. High levels of radiation are clear through certain lenses. At this point in time, I can say with confidence they have the same interplanetary capabilities as we do.”

Earth’s Premier spoke in quick response, “with that said we don’t have any initial reason to suspect hostility as their first option. For all reasons they must be even more surprised than we are.”

EEEEEERRRRRRRR EEEEEERRRRRRRR EEEEEERRRRRRRR

“WE HAVE INCOMING!” an intelligence officer shouted. “5 unidentified objects just exited the atmosphere of Corpus I! Impact in 120 seconds!” Shouts rang out from multiple stations in the bunker: “14!” “20!” “32!”

The Chairman held multiple phones at once as the top analysts of Earth raced to decode what was flying their way. As he picked up another call the premier spoke “this could be an initial contact between species! A peace mission of sorts. We have nothing to show this is hostility!”

“They’re gathering at specific sites across the planet. We believe they’re preparing an invasion force, post-impact!” The Chairman’s face was flush red as he returned to shouting orders to whatever unfortunate soul was on the other side.

90 seconds

“Those could just be viewing sites for the first contact with another intelligent life form? Sites of prayer? Hell, people are gathering at every holy site, stadium, and screen on the Earth!” The President’s Chief of Staff shouted.

The Chief of the Global Intelligence Agency (GIA) sat with her trademark cold expression, “what are possible response packages?”

The Chairman, having regained composure, responded, “Interplanetary Ballistic Missiles (IPBM) launched from the Armstrong II complex moonside. We have 64 nuclear warheads ready. Additionally, Gravity Propelled Missiles from silos planetside can add an additional 145 to the missile swarm. Their initial strike will cut those numbers by over 80%”

“Defensive capabilities?”

“Interceptors will halt 5 in 10. Maybe more? It will be decimating.”

60 seconds

“We’re talking about destroying a civilization we’ve never even contacted over the possibility of an attack. They’ve gone through this same thought process. There is no reason to strike. The sensors may still be broken!” The head of Global Development argued.

“How many millions of pages of literature would we destroy, thousands of kilometres of paintings, tons of sculptures? How many lives would we be erasing? It is far too risky we must stand down” the Premier pleaded

The Chief of the GIA responded simply, “can we let the lives and culture of Earth go unavenged? Hundreds of millions may die today. Shall their deaths be in vain?"

“A civilization may sacrifice itself to not doom two– someone survives to tell the tale”

30 seconds

The only human in existence who can order the use of Interplanetary strikes is the President of the United Earth.

20 seconds

As the situation room turns silent, all eyes look to you.

10 seconds

“Strike, or stand down?”

5 seconds

Enjoy!

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— Chapter 108 —

— Qazayss “Broodmother” — 

Her many, many eyes were closed while she felt the round, thick-skinned eggs work their way down through her gut. Her body pulsed as she hunched low to lay her tenth egg of the day. Her mouth rumbled in satisfaction as she chewed on her snack and considered her next step. She opened a pair of secondary eyes while one of her exhausted wyverns came rushing into her chambers. The fool of a child of hers stuttered as it spoke, and she bit back the urge to pop his head in that instance.

“Doteiss. Speak clearly, or I won’t give you another chance.” She hissed whilst her affinity pulsed and she applied just a hair of pressure to the failure of a child before her.

Doteiss twisted in discomfort before pressing his head hard against the ground and speaking more slowly. “Muzzig and Nurydit were both slain, your Majesty. Half a dozen other lessers whose names weren’t worth remembering.”

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes completely. “The tunnel has been overrun then?”

The wyvern cowered still. “No. They have been pushed back three times now, and we have more than enough to keep them back. In fact, we are making strides pushing them back.”

She snarled as she opened another pair of eyes and stared down at Doteiss. “Then go attend to your duties. They are in their death throes after the loss of their Master. We will let them wear themselves out and then clean them up. Now leave.”

The wyvern practically ran out of the chamber, causing her to huff. The messengers made it clear that Onyx was dead by the hands of Desolation, but her prized Serth and Ambass were both now missing. Desolation had been driven off by something, and she was frankly worried what that might be. She suspected that the great forest and those two-leggers had some powerful affinity at their command, or worse, another rival Elder had made a move.

The loss of her thinker, Ambass, would be a critical blow. She had made sure she enthralled and intimidated him enough that he would be forced to serve her for many, many more cycles. She couldn’t rule out the possibility of him running off to hide behind the protection of another Elder, if he lived. She snarled and thrashed in frustration while she felt another egg roll down her gut.

“Snack.” She huffed, causing a kobold to run up to kneel nearby. Her jaws casually snatched it up, and she began to chew whilst she hummed in thought. She considered Ambass’s future replacement and the efforts she would have to go through. Her thought was broken when something shook the entire base of the lair. The earth itself trembled, and she immediately stood tall while she unfolded her many wings.

“Doteiss! What has happened?” She snarled before she felt her gut rumble again as another egg was working its way out of her. She forced it back, forcing the mechanism of her rapid egg-laying to halt for the time being.

Everything trembled and shook again whilst she let out a curse. “Useless children.” She began to stretch and pull herself up from her throne fully.

​

— David “Onyx” —

​

David had figured out a way to cheat the system in a way. While they dug, David needed access to his ethereal form to build up affinity and keep Emerald charged and going. So he had an idea, and initial testing had proved him right. His ethereal form settled over the lesser wyvern’s body and he sank deep into it. This time he didn’t have another mind to wrestle with and instead simply fell and fell until his eyes suddenly jolted open.

He pressed his head down and ground the teeth of his new body whilst the body once again underwent the transformation to match his traits. The violent and painful change was something he did not enjoy about his new Elder powers.

“Master?” An older female kobold smiled up at David when he finally stood.

He turned and dipped his head low to the older female and her other older companion. “Yellow’Brown, Blue’Yellow. It appears your hard work has paid off.”

They both smiled and laughed a bit before Blue’Yellow spoke up. “Running a healing gemstone over the body for the last few cycles was exhausting, Master, but tending to the eggs with your growth affinity amber was far more draining. This was a nice break.”  

The pair cackled at their own joke as David shook his head in amusement. Yellow’Brown and Blue’Yellow were of the first generation of Red and Blue’s children, and they were in charge of the nursery all this time. They had spent years just focusing their affinity into David’s Rapid Growth amber to rapidly expand the clan’s population. They had inadvertently trained themselves, and each had an extensively robust magical affinity reserve and affinity regeneration abilities now. After repairing the damage to the body caused by his leaving using Genomic Restoration, he had the pair watch over it and constantly keep using Healing Breath to maintain its peak freshness.

The plan had been extremely successful, but was unfortunately impractical for long-term storage of a body. There were questions about whether he could obtain an adult body using something similar, but he had no time. No matter, David murmured to himself, as he banished the thought from his mind. He glanced down at the pair still giggling amongst themselves while he spread his wings. “Go back to the lair and make sure to take an escort.”

His flesh wings beat whilst he took off back down the tunnel towards where everyone else was waiting. He landed in a large open chamber next to the Queen’s lair that Emerald had spent time expanding and smoothing out for their final push. He stood tall while he looked around and rumbled in approval.

Armored and armed kobolds stood in formation, some standing underneath the colossal legs of the dead, silent reanimated Masters that David had gathered. Okraz was standing off to the side, waiting patiently as David nodded, then spoke softly, purposefully keeping his voice low. “Just beyond that wall.” David pointed to where Emerald stood. “It is the entrance to the Queen’s lair. Once it drops, we need to move fast.”

Determined faces nodded along to his words whilst he continued. “We move fast and quick. Scouts will move ahead and guide the rest of us, but our target remains the Queen. If she dies, so does everything she has built. Keep a calm head, and no war cries.”

He grinned when he saw the disappointment on many of the younger kobolds' faces. “There will be a time and place once our surprise is no longer a surprise.” He turned and nodded to Emerald, who immediately pressed her hands against the far wall and pulled it down with a level of mastery that baffled even David. Silently, the stone flowed down and pooled away before reforming into solid stone piles off to either side.

The Zephyrs acted instantly as the lightly armed, winged kobolds flew into the newly opened space half a dozen at a time and slipped into the darkness. Okraz activated her camouflage and instantly blended into the dark, rocky background. Emerald had already moved out of the way while scouts running on foot darted past her.

David stepped forward slowly before glancing back with a nod of approval. He pulled at his affinity, and the many dead began to move. He motioned with his forearm. “Lead.”

The only dead that was assigned elsewhere was the monster pseudo dread David had reassembled. It had a special mission to attend to, and its colossal size made taking this route impossible anyway. The two reanimated dead wyvern adults led the way, followed by the five lesser wyverns. They marched forward, making no sound except the crackling of their bones grinding against each other whilst they moved.

The corpses forced their way through the opening and thundered onwards while David followed behind his new meat shields. His kobolds began to move and follow right after him. The twists and turns of the tunnels were as annoying as he remembered, but his scouts were fluttering back in ones and twos. Their information was valuable, and it didn’t take long for them to find the familiar spiraling center of the Majesty’s lair. So far so good, David rumbled to himself.

He turned, and his newly alive eyes settled on Emerald coming up the rear. Her body was covered in stone armor, and she had clearly further expanded her abilities because the stone armor was of the same appearance as the one her father wore. The stone was smoothed to appear like plate armor, and she even had a helmet with a movable stone visor. “Emerald. I am going to charge forward with the corpses. Once I hit the bottom, I am going to go for the backside of the forces keeping Red and the other back. I need you to coordinate the rest of the kobolds and keep the scouts mapping. Once you find the Queen, you send a scout immediately for me.”

Emerald nodded. “Good luck, Master. I can handle this. Go do some damage.”

David took the lead with his lesser wyvern body as he glided down the huge spiraled central ramp. The dead followed him hurriedly, but he put some distance between himself and them whilst he pumped his wings with haste. As he spiraled downwards, his enhanced nose did its work, and he picked up the overwhelming smell of fresh blood. The lair was filled to the brim with blood, old and new, but David was certain he had found the path to the ongoing battle. He landed at a tunnel offshoot, and his ears picked up the distant sounds of moving bodies and battle.

He reached out with his affinity and felt that his dead were closing quickly, following after him even if they were out of sight. Good, he murmured, before he charged down the tunnel. Once it opened up enough again, he started to fly, and once the scent of blood grew strong enough, he pulled at his dual affinities in preparation.

It didn’t take long for him to see the backside of a pair of large adults. He instantly dropped 10 affinity reserves into his Annihilating Spiral and let loose. The spiral of opposing affinities smashed into the back of a large multicolored dragon, and a massive flash of fire and light burst out everywhere. The lair itself shook from the absolutely colossal strength of the explosion, and David’s prompt pinged him about the death of not just two, but three dragons.

“Damn. I might have overdone it.” He winced as he saw massive cracks forming along the wall. His luck held out as only part of the cavern where the dragons were waiting collapsed. His reanimated dead finally caught up to him, and he motioned forward. “Charge. Kill any Masters that still breathe. Do not kill any kobolds and follow Red’s commands if you encounter him.”

They stomped off, and David closed his eyes for a moment to process the smells running through the massive lair, and he caught the scent of the Queen drifting by. He was certain he was closer than anyone before he turned to watch the backside of the dead silently charging into battle. “That will have to do. Good luck, Red.”

He leaped into the air again and flew in the opposite direction back to the spiraling ramp. A Zephyr was heading up and became startled when he pushed back out of the tunnel. David quickly lowered him and raised his wings to calm her down. “Relax. It is I, Onyx. Tell Emerald I have a scent of the Queen.”

The poor, overwhelmed Zephyr quickly regained her composure and nodded her head quickly. “Uh! Yes, Master Onyx. I was just headed back up.”

“Good.” He motioned with a forearm. “There appear to be more tunnels down the ramp. Knowing Her Majesty, it is a maze. I am going ahead.”

David took over before he could hear the kobold’s response, and before he knew it, he found the entrances he was looking for. There were four tunnels all closely bunched together, and he shook his massive head in annoyance. He dived into the far right one where the strongest scent was and stopped for only a brief moment to tear a chunk of the stone from the corner of the tunnel using his reinforced jaws. Using the crumbling stone and dirt, he built a quick mound in front of the tunnel, made it point inwards with a rough arrow, and rolled his body’s scent around the ground.

“Good enough.” He huffed before he took off, flying down the tunnel. The tunnel twisted and turned before straightening out. The scent of kobold, dragons, and most importantly her Majesty grew only stronger the further he flew. Before he knew it, he flew right into a massive chamber.  He thought, perhaps, he had found the Queen’s throne room, but reality hit him quickly.

Malnourished kobolds and dozens of his vicious-looking siblings filled the chamber to the brim. They all immediately jumped into action as roars filled the chamber. All he could do was curse whilst he dropped from the sky to evade the torrent of fire, ice, and other deadly affinities hurdling his way. “Shit”

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I remembered the first time I’d arrived at NASA, terrified of being delivered into the human government’s custody, but I’d trusted Wade’s advice for the lack of a better alternative. Back at that point, my belief had been that the primals wanted to kill us from the moment we arrived. It was impossible to describe my delight at being back here, home, with Finley; the familiar building where my habitat was housed filled me with joy. It was all I could do not to grab his calloused hand and drag him off to a picnic.

The human scientists who’d taken me in applauded, as we strolled through the front door and waved. The researchers were all but drooling when they spotted Garriil, eager to learn about the new Kexin. Technically, Kexins had visited Earth when Snelga briefly stepped out at the handoff; however, they hadn’t ever spoken with one or seen such an alien up close. The most I’d said about their species was talking about Ushala on a late-night show. Kaitlin’s trove of knowledge would be catching them up to speed, if it hadn’t already.

Humans are so hungry to learn that they probably started on the framework for a translator and pulled all-nighters to inhale their culture. They wanted to know everything about Saphnos, down to how lucid our dreams were and what our exercise equipment looked like. Well, at least they weren’t sociopathic like Garriil about having that curiosity sated…uh oh.

“So many subjects! What a perfect opportunity to see if the educated ones are less angry, or if it’s just Kaitlin!” the Kexin gushed. “I have so many questions about primal hierarchy and workplace dynamics. I would love to hire humans—I think these ones would volunteer to go abroad, and then we could study them more! So curious and welcoming!”

I gawked at Garriil. “Garriil, they’re people, and you’re a guest among some of their smartest individuals; this is a place to study extraterrestrial life and astrophysics. They’re serious academics, more so than you.”

“I know. I am studying extraterrestrial life too. Look, I’ll ask them; I’m sure my interest won’t be of offense to them. I’m not diminishing them at all. I want conclusive data about humankind and their unique interactions. My research demands it.”

“Aren’t you scared of being around so many primals on the loose?” Finley sneered.

“Of course not. This is wonderful, because it’s never been safe to study primals on this broad of a scale, let alone the ones with the greatest complexity! You feel safe and in control here, for now, and you have social consequences for anger. There is too much security here for it to become dangerous to me. Again, for now.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

Garriil clucked his tongue. “You always were an agitable one, Finley. You will not be my baseline for long. I need other test subjects to be able to claim any comprehensive knowledge of humans.”

“Why did we let this asshole come here, after what he did to you?” Terry demanded. “He shouldn’t be walking around free.”

“I’m the reason the Council listened to you. The extreme measures were merited, because it’s the extreme circumstances that worry us about your control; it must be assessed at all degrees of anger. Look, all I want is to observe human behavior and…natural responses. This opportunity to see Earth up close will tell me what you’re really like!”

Finley bit his lower lip. “Craun, you can eat him now. Be a good rock monster.”

“Yes, boss,” I prodded. “Do you want me to save his headfeathers for your welcome home grilled cheese?”

“You betcha. It’ll be crunchy flavor for the picnic.”

“Primal attempts to make me uncomfortable with absurd threats due to anger,” Garriil muttered, scribbling his notes. “Speaks like I’m not even there. This last part would trigger anger in fellow packmates. Further data on these interactions needed in their natural habitat.”

Terry frowned. “Should we make it a drinking game to take a shot every time he writes aloud?”

“Nah,” Finley snorted. “I just got home. I ain’t wanna die.”

The Kexin bounced on the heels of his feet. “Oh, inebriation? I would love to see humans with lowered inhibitions, especially if you willingly drug yourself. We can witness the true extent of the rage under the surface and with limited control…double-impaired judgment. That’s a good idea! I should make a note: techno bars on Ushala would be unwise to serve you. It pushes you to your limits.”

“Ugh, you’re asking for a bar fight now, Garriil. I’d happily give it to you sober. I mean, shit, I need a drink just to listen to you say the word research.”

“Alcohol makes Finley happier and more social,” I remarked. “Humans aren’t inhibiting that much anger and aggression. They want to have friends and goof off—study that. They become a lot when intoxicated, and also become much louder.”

Finley made a pouty face. “Why are you helping him?”

“Because he’s going to write papers on you that the whole Council will read, and I want humans to be appreciated and accepted. Reducing you to just primals who can have your settings tampered with to make you act out…it’s insulting.”

“Aw, I knew I liked you for a reason, Craun. I might have to do something about it.”

“Just mostly straight friendship rituals,” Terry drawled. “Nothing to see here.”

I puffed a cloud of smoke at him. “As the local saying goes, I’m going to kill you.”

“As the local saying goes, bless your heart!”

“I…don’t understand this one.”

“I wanna see you try to figure it out as a palate cleanser from Garriil and Snelga, so I’m not gonna help, sweetie,” Finley chuckled. “Wait, where did Garriil go?”

I glanced around, finding him approaching an excited researcher named Daryl, who I’d spoken to a few times. “Well, he’s allowed to interact, and he is the only Kexin who’ll come here. Let’s see how this plays out; I’m sure these smart people can handle themselves. I’ll watch him though. I owe NASA too much not to.”

I waded through a sea of scientists to approach the Kexin subtly, and accepted the warm welcomes; I also shook hands with a few military officers, offering my gratitude for everything humanity had done—both for me and the Saphnos who wouldn’t fully appreciate them. The primals were all smiles, quite exuberant to have succeeded in their recovery mission. There was a certain safeness here with the Earthlings, trusting them not to give me up the way the Council would.

I would have never imagined how protective and generous primals could be; it’s that deep loyalty that always reminds me of why I love them, regardless of how illogical they can be with their drivenness.

At this point, it was evident to me how the humans must’ve felt through all of this, and that it had nothing to do with anger, for the most part. These same people who worked at NASA were caught off-guard when they were told about my presence on Earth, with many thinking that it was a hoax at first according to Kaitlin. Their entire species had experienced confusion, wonderment, and pain at being left out of the galaxy; it’d been an exercise in futility, to convince the Council’s expedition that they were civilized. 

Now, the humans were reunited with the first alien they’d inducted into their culture at long last. This scary primal world had become more than the Saphnos’ last hope; it was home. I did want to see the Venus colony and work to “slap some sense” into Administrator Pelpau (though then again, I thought it’d do more harm than good to have those Saphnos thinking I was going primal). However, I doubted Finley had any interest in leaving Earth, after his prolonged abduction. It’d felt wrong for me just to step into the other room with Rauja, so I didn’t want to gallop off to Venus.

Daryl had his chair turned backward and leaned against the front of it, his eyes glittering with excitement as he found that the Kexin was more than happy to be questioned. “Our names rhyme! Sorry, that’s unprofessional; we’re just used to…”

“Yes?” Garriil prompted, unblinking while his pen hovered over his notepad.

“Well, Craun used to take bagels and wear them on the asymmetrical part of his head. He called them his tiara. When we would laugh at him, he’d ask why we made fun of his hat, but Finley’s was okay. He claimed he was ‘camouflaging’ himself. He posted videos of himself doing this on his social media with titles like Fooling Primals Into Thinking I’m One of Them. I love that vid…”

I do too, Daryl.

The Kexin’s eyes were glassy and tranquil. “Please be your natural selves. Professionalism muddies my results; it’s filtering your true thoughts. I am a humble observer! Also, it sounds like this bagel thing actually worked…I may try it. I would like to try eating primal food too. Does anger impact your levels of sanitation?”

“Huh?” Daryl squinted, looking perplexed. “Uh, I’m not sure how anger could possibly impact sanitation, but we…have health and safety standards. And germ theory, but uh, you must know that. I could get you a bagel. Awesome that you’re taking an interest, that’s really sweet! I’m sure it’s a lot to be on Earth with us. Let me know if there’s anything we can do to make you more comfortable, you don’t need to pretend.”

“Perhaps some cameras so I can remotely observe your dynamics and keep myself aware of the safety levels. You know, for my peace of mind, if it gets too much. I want to be included,” Garriil lied. No. Do not give that to him…

“That’s a little weird, but I mean, if we tell everyone and they agree to it…”

“Hidden cameras. If you’re all aware of them, how reliable is that data? You’re smart enough not to act out in front of them.”

“That’s completely unethical, I’m afraid we can’t grant that request as you’ve phrased it. People have a reasonable expectation of privacy; don’t yours?”

The Kexin glanced over at me, making direct eye contact before twitching like I was his long-lost solution. “I meant no disrespect, I was simply curious to observe unfiltered human behavior. Of course, I mean no distress or intrusion. You should have the right to agree to experiments, now that I know you’re not animals. It’s just difficult to get used to when I’ve always worked at the institute. I’ve never worked with any primals even close to your level, Daryl!”

“Which is why we can just learn about each other by talking,” the NASA researcher replied with a wide smile.

“I’ll happily write down anything I learn about you. You’re a scientist, you know the importance of backing up what people say with objective observations. I’m quite happy to teach you about Kexins!”

Daryl leaned back, clicking his own pen and looking optimistic. “Awesome! We’d love to be brought up to speed on other carbon lifeforms and your biology, especially since that data can save lives medically or through avoiding blind spots. Let’s start with your patagium: that is, the membrane beneath your arms which allows gliding. Do you use them often or are they vestigial?”

Garriil’s eyes gleamed. “Did Kaitlin have anything to say on the matter?”

“That she never saw Snelga use hers, and that some Kexins have them surgically removed. That it didn’t seem to affect quality of life.”

“She’s correct, as usual. It was remarkable how quickly she learned, and I don’t mean in the demeaning sense of ‘compared to other primals.’ I mean compared to anyone. She absorbs knowledge like a sponge! The wing flaps are vestigial. A few Kexins glide for leisure activities, in the same sense that humans can learn to swim. Not that we don’t swim too, but you get my analogy.”

“I understand what you mean, Garriil. We’d love to see some examples of gliding activities. I’m fascinated to know the effects it had on your social development! Is that the reason for the multi-leveled cities?” 

“Our ancestors lived in high-up places. If anything, our settlements have gotten closer to the ground over time. Once you’ve used up all the space in an area, the only way to build is up. You stack yours in the form of skyscrapers. We…treat our cities like parking garages, and travel to the floor we want before we ever leave our vehicles. Of course, it’s quite the investment! It’s all design philosophy.”

Daryl swished his pen for a final stroke, nodding and grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you for such a thoughtful answer. Is there anything you’d like to ask me about primals?”

“I seek permission. Can I study you?”

“Um, okay. Sure! That sounds great. What better way to dispel the rumors around us than seeing how we live? I’m an ordinary guy, but I’m more than willing for you to use me for behavioral observation. This is really good, that you let me provide informed consent! That’s what you should do if you want cameras.”

“I will consider it. I don’t want to cause too much of a disruption, or bring everyone’s attention to what I’m doing—but now, it can’t be said that I didn’t tell humans! I am so excited and glad you agreed! This will be a great step forward for real science, advancing our knowledge about primals in its entirety. Goodbye, Daryl, my subject!”

Daryl arched his eyebrows, before turning toward me with a grin. “Wow. He was wonderful. When I heard we had a Kexin visitor, I didn’t imagine he’d be so relaxed and delighted to meet us. Maybe the Council can be our friends; this is a good start.”

“Daryl, you…” I heard a hiss at my side and looked over, to find Garriil tugging at my arm. “…should not take this as a good…ow! Stop pulling my arm.”

“Then stop ruining my progress,” Garriil whispered. “I can’t let you do that. Let’s negotiate in private. I learned that from your Finley, and your Finley is exactly why you should hear what I have to say.”

I stiffened in horror, but allowed the Kexin primal researcher to drag me to a private conference room. “What do you want? If you go after Finley again, I swear…”

“You sound just like them! I would want to study that too, but you’re not as important. You’re not a real primal, and you never will be. You seem to want the attention they get though—please, stop trying it with me. I’m not interested. You’re going to help me run my experiments.”

“Why would I ever do that?!”

Garriil looked at me like it was obvious. “Because in exchange, I agree to leave Finley out of the experiments. Daryl consented. There’s nothing wrong with it, even if you don’t like me! All I need is a second observer to verify my results; you’re a lot less conspicuous. My methods are working to get them accepted. That’s what you want, right?”

“Of course I do, Garriil, but I don’t want to hurt them. Experimenting on humans is wrong, they’re not your toys!”

“So all science is wrong? Knowledge is useful, Craun, and we have a lot of correcting to do. Everything we knew about humans is invalid. You heard them, they want me to! If you believe I won’t find anything bad, there’s nothing to worry about. I can prove their innocence if they’re not dangerous, and I promise, I won’t risk anyone else’s life. They are people, so I don’t want to lose any of them if I don’t have to.”

“That’s not reassuring at all, Garriil. I don’t want you to even go near Finley; he needs time to recover from what he’s been through, and that comes first. I’ll help you up until the point you endanger lives for your research. We’re not losing anyone; there is no world in which we have to, any more than the Council had to sacrifice us. I’ve lost enough people to emotionless bastards.”

“Okay! This isn’t about you. It’s about them. We have an understanding though. You’ll help me, and you won’t contaminate my test subjects. If you do, I’ll convince Finley of your infidelity. We can really see him angry then!”

“What?!”

The pink-faced Kexin stared back. “That’s a good reason to help and not ask questions. Remember, you’re my hostage. I don’t care about you, but I will if I have to. Nobody wants that, Craun. This is all for the best.”

Garriil scampered off like the conversation was done, and I sat dumbfounded. I considered telling Finley and Terry about everything, but I was worried that the Kexin scientist would become more unhinged if his “tame” plans were subverted. While Daryl had no idea what he’d invited, he had agreed to it. Besides, it sounded like our new visitor wouldn’t do anything to the extreme of Finley’s experiment. For now, I’d go along with it to keep an eye on him, and try to prevent him from doing anything excessive.

I hoped that NASA could handle Garriil, because it was evident the Kexin intended to see his experiments through at all costs. 

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Planet Dirt series / Amazon book

Bug Hunt / Amazon version /

Crashlanding / Book version /

First //Previous

“What do you guys mean by that we won't be on the walls anymore?” Thomas said, staring at Erik and Cain. Erik held his phone between them, speakers on.

“This is bullshit!” Matthew added. They were standing in one of the officers' rooms in the guard house.

“No, it's not. Your job is to protect girls. We need you guys there. Our suits are some Ironman shit suits.” Cain said, and Matthew looked at Cain.

“Don’t do this. We ain't afraid of those fuckers.” 

Cain stared him down. “It ain't that!”

“Look, you don’t know what you're getting yourself into. If you don’t have to, then stay away from it.” Marcus said over the phone.

Thomas leaned against the cabinet. “They will see us as weak.”

“And if they break through, who will defend the girls? Besides, who among you actually did any sword training?  Do you want me to be honest? Your job is to just hold the door until Marcus and his guys get here. We might die if they get over the wall. None of us are proper trained or warriors, and this ain’t a fucking game!” Erik said.

“As he said,” Cain added.

“He is right. You're not ready. Hell, I barely survived. I.. You have to have proper training.”

“Yes... Look, if we survive this, then we are all going to train like hell so we are not this scared.  The girls will learn how to shoot bows, and you will learn how to use weapons.  Then, if we get attacked, you can be on the wall, but not now.  Hopefully never. So go back and keep the girls in the main house.” Erik said. he could see he was pissing them off.

“Fuck you!”  Matthew said, walking out, pretty pissed off.

“He is right. Fuck you, Erik.” Thomas said, then sighed. “But thanks.” Then he followed Matthew.

“They didn’t take that too badly,” Cain said, and Erik shrugged.

“Yeah, anyway. How are things on your side?” he asked Marcus.

“Oh, pretty bad. They got me real drunk last night. Some ritual thing. Me and all the first blooders, as they called us, so I got a bad hangover, but these guys are great.”

“How is Gigi?” Cain asked

“Pissed off at me,” Marcus replied, apparently puking. Or at least it sounded like that.  “I never drink again.” He muttered.

Erik and Cain grinned at each other, then grew serious.

“Why is she pissed at you? What did you do?” Erik asked.

“Do? Nothing, it was Freya. She was upset that… she was chosen to make me a man.” He said as they heard him drink and spit something out. “ugh damn… and I’m going on a boat later. Not looking forward to that.” He muttered.

“Oh damn! Did you?” Cain called out. Completely ignoring the other part

“I don’t know. I was so drunk last night. I don’t think so.”  His voice sounded tired and confused

“Too drunk?”  Erik replied

“I passed out, and her brothers carried me to their house.”  They could hear Marcus smiling over the phone. And they all laughed.

“You had the chance, and you fell asleep?” Erik said, trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“We got to change your name to Sir Sleeps-a-Lot!” Cain joked.

“Ha ha.. I was drunk, very, very drunk,” Marcus replied

“So, Sir Puke-a-Lot?” Erik added.

“fuck you.” He replied, but he was laughing.  “I’m just sitting on the docks trying to get over my hangover, and you guys have to be assholes.”

“So, when are you guys sailing in the fjord?” Erik asked, changing the subject.

“We are on the dock now. So soon, anyway I have a feeling Gigi will kill… wait..  damn… “

“What?” They both asked.

“She is speaking with Freya, and they are laughing.”

“Sorry, man. That’s proof you didn't get anything. Still an incel.” Cain said as he grinned.

“Maybe next time. She is one hot piece.” Marcus answered with a hopeful voice.

“She’s the blond one, right? Miss Pick Me, as Gigi calls her?”

“Ehh, yeah... well, we are getting ready now, so two days, or if we don’t stop, maybe at midnight.”  He replied, and they could hear somebody blowing a horn in the background. Then Gig’s voice

“Coming, sleepyhead.”

“Got to go.”  Then he hung up, and they looked at each other and burst out laughing. Then they grabbed their helmets and walked out to the wall.

 

 

They walked around during the day while the others guarded the walls.  Arus suddenly appeared next to them.

“Yes?”   Erik said, looking over the west-side battlement facing the fjord.

“They are getting ready for a new attack run.”

“Oh... over the bridge?”

“Bridge and rafts; they have grappling hooks and chain ladders.”

“So wet sammads clinging to metal chains are going to try to climb a wall we can electrify?” He asked, and Cain chuckled.

“They are going to fry.” He commented.

“There is one small problem, my lord,” Arus said.

“The electricity will short-circuit the castle?” Erik said.

“No, but the Sammad have a heightened resistance to electricity. There are other ways to deal with them, but when the castle was made, they were not considered a danger for at least fifty to a hundred years, if ever.”

Erik's heart sank at the news. “So, they might breach the walls? And now you tell me?”

“You did not ask,” Arus replied, and Erik cursed loudly in Norwegian.

“Why do you call me ‘The devil in hells demon shittbag?’” Arus asked, and Cain just laughed.

“Because you didn't tell me. How.. wait.. tech.. okay. They are all wearing our armor. Please tell me if there is any tech in it.  What can this armor do?” He said, starting toward the gate and scouting the forest.

“The armor is made of kirosteal; it’s what’s used in spaceships to withstand space, micrometeoroids, and projectiles.  The weak points in the joints and face are your danger areas.  The armor might hold, but your body inside might get crushed by impact.  The breastplate has kinetic-inert technology, so any strikes to the plates will lose most of their kinetic energy.” Arus said, walking next to them.

 “Your helmet has comms and several visors for night and thermal vision, and the display can call up maps.  Your gloves have an electroshock on impact.   Your whole body can also release an electrical shock around you.  You have five charges before you need to recharge. Touch the side of your helmet to activate the visors,” Arus continued. Cain touched the side of his helmet, and a visor dropped in front of his eyes.

“Sweet Jesus, this is some predator shit,” Cain said.

“And all the armor was made like this?” Erik said, his brain racing for solutions.

“No, the regular armor only has the Kirosteel and a receiver for your comms. You can give them orders.”

“Okay, what else can the armor do? Fly?” he said hopefully.

“No, but if the kinetic energy of any fall is less than a hundred meters, it will be neglected, and above that, the antigravity will set in to lower you safely to eighty meters.”

“Okay, I’m guessing speakers so they can hear my orders?”

“Yes, sir. You read the manual?”

“There is a manual?” they both said.

“Yes. Did you not receive the email?”

Both grabbed their phones and opened their email; several new messages contained different manuals and information. And they had all ended up in the spam folder.

“No wonder…  It's in the spam folder.  We read spam mail.” Erik said, and Arus actually looked confused.

“Why not?”

“In Norwegian, we call it garbage mail. It's just for ads and scammers. You sent us... How many?” Erik asked

“53” Arus replied.

“At the same time? That’s why it became spam mail.” Cain replied, scrolling down the emails. “It's all here. Fuck.”

“They are approaching,” Arus said, and they both put the phone away as they scanned the forest. They could see the Sammad emerging from the woods, some nearby, others further down the line.

“That’s a lot. Did they get reinforcements?” Erik said.

“Yes. Only 429. The number now is 2345. The headcount in Riverbay was incorrect; they were being counted from the satellites.”

“Okay. We can take them out; they are not immune to electricity, right? So they will be shocked and easier to shoot down.  We got enough arrows. Now let's see... " he said as he touched the side of his helmet.

“Men! They are back, hold your fire until they are close. Jarl Harald's men have already got on their ships. We only need to hold out for a day or two. If they breach the wall, then fight! We will never give up.  We are not their food; we are their doom!” Then he let go of his helmet's side and looked at Cain.

“You think that will do it?”

“Yeah, but you're still speaking to them.”  He replied and helped him turn off the speaker.  They looked around and saw the soldiers, confused but still shouting encouraging words. Then his phone rang.

“What the hell, Erik? Get your ass inside”

“No, I can’t. If I go inside, then they might break the line.  Don’t worry about me. We are safe.” He said. The helmet's speakers automatically connected to his phone. Cain stood beside him, scanning the forest for the rest of the attackers.

“You just want to get blooded before the Vikings get there. You can forget it. You have a girlfriend!”

“What are you talking about?” A hundred Sammad emerged from the forest and lined up with their bows. He looked at them and grabbed the shield.

Cain shook his head. “They haven’t learned.”

“I spoke to Gigi, she told me how those Vikings celebrate their victories! Making boys men.”

Erik laughed, lifting the shield above his head as a hail of arrows rained down on them. Cain didn’t bother, as they had no effect.

“I know I got a girlfriend, and if I celebrate, then it will be you.” He said, watching Cain flip the Sammads off. Part of him was just as scared as before, but another part was cold and ready, almost wanting it to start. It was strange to feel both at once.

“Ohh!” she said.

“Anyway, they are about to attack now, and I have to keep the line open so I can give orders to the men. Oh, and check your spam mail; all of Arus messages ended up there.”

“Yeah…” she sounded a little distant. “You really meant that?”

“Meant what?” he replied, moving to check on the rafts being launched.  He pointed towards them, and Cain nodded, then ran down the battlement to get the men ready.

“That you would... you know, celebrate with me like...” She sounded so shy as she almost whispered the words.

He stopped what he was doing and realized what he had said. “Yes. But only if you want.”

She hung up, and he looked back toward the main house. Why had she hung up? Then a hail of arrows rained down, but they did no damage. He thought for a few seconds, then turned back to the forest and the bridge. Several sammads approached, holding what looked like interlaced wooden shields over their heads for protection. He looked at Erwin.

“How do I get this mace to spark lightning?”

“See the buttons and the switch; turn the switch to full, then hold the button and let go when you want the sparks to fly,” Erwin said, and he tried it; he could hear the power charge. He let go immediately, and it sparked a little. 

“I got an idea! When I let the sparks go, you have Arus electrify the bridge. If the shields are lowered, fire away! Got it.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Elwin replied. He looked at the twenty other soldiers nearby and waited for their orders. When Elwin fired, they should fire as well.

 Then he jumped up on the battlement and waited as he charged the mace; then, when they were on the bridge, he shouted:

“GET OFF MY LAWN!” he shouted as he let go, and the mace lit up as sparks flew in an arc from his mace to his armor. Then everything buzzed, and several shields faltered. The archers rained arrows down on them. Erik jumped back into safety, not knowing why his heart raced, yet part of him felt it was fun. And it scared him. The Sammad regrouped slowly and moved forward, though they left openings for arrows to rain down. Then Cain shouted as the rafts that had been launched had landed on the island, and now the Sammad was charging the walls, holding shields over their heads. Some were tossing grappling hooks up to start climbing. Cain cut through the first hook, but one of the vyrtin got caught in the chain and was dragged off the wall. No one could save the man, and then they started tossing grappling hooks.

 It was clear what they were trying to do. The reality of it hit him hard when a grappling hook landed right in front of him. He drew his sword and switched, putting the mace in his left hand and the sword in his right. He waited as the chain was pulled back and locked to the wall, and he saw someone climbing up from the movement. He waited until he saw the head, then swung the sword. It cut the chain easily, and the head vanished.  He let out a relieved breath, but then he saw a small, clawed hand, and the head appeared again. He swung the mace down on it as hard as he could.

Somehow, Major Joshua Chamberlain wasn’t surprised when Captain Lev Dobrinski appeared in his doorway. His chief assistant had a sixth sense for when things were going just wrong enough to add fuel to the fire.

And the fire was just barely contained as it was.

Chamberlain looked up and immediately noticed two things. Dobrinski was sweating. He was also pale.

The Terran Intelligence Division frowned on both. Recruits were expected to be able to work deep undercover if necessary, and involuntary responses could be lethal. The TID were precisely what the name suggested. They gathered information, monitored communications. Occasionally tapped the communications to make monitoring easier. Bugging a location wasn’t unheard of.

You know, all the things that governments take great offense to if they find out they’re being done to them, but are just part of the game if they’re the ones doing them. So every government employed such departments, and they all pretended not to.

In such situations, sweating got you caught. When dealing with species whose vision encompassed more of the spectrum than a man’s, being slightly more pale was a giveaway. So the TID trained its people not to do either.

But as Chamberlain looked, there was no doubt. Dobrinski wasn’t glowing or perspiring. There was no light sheen on his skin. There was, however, a drop of sweat running from his temple towards his jaw. And he looked like he had either seen a ghost or been drained of more blood than a person should be allowed to donate at once.

Chamberlain braced himself. “Yes?”

Dobrinski swallowed. Then he swallowed again. “Sir? We have a problem.”

That was no surprise. Problems were what the TID dealt with most of the time. The Terran government stood outside the Council, though with some intermingled worlds. Borders in space were tricky things, especially when some planets were uninhabitable to some but perfectly welcoming to others. So humanity had established colonies on planets the neighbors didn’t seem to want.

When found, the response was surprise, but also a kind of grudging respect. Cordial relations were maintained.

“What sort of problem, captain?” Chamberlain asked.

“The latest intercept,” Dobrinski said, holding out an encrypted data pad. “It’s from the Inner Council.”

That got Chamberlain’s attention. That source was very well protected. Revelation of its existence could trigger an immediate war, so communications were limited to when it was too critical to wait for other means. Anything from the Inner Council got everyone’s attention, provided they were cleared to know there even was an Inner Council.

Chamberlain took the data pad and began reading. “What am I looking for?” he asked. Sometimes that allowed him to get past the bureaucratic density a little faster.

He found it as Dobrinski answered. “Subspecies?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. At least two.”

Chamberlain was named for one of his ancestors, one who had led men in a critical battle in a war some centuries ago. He was fuzzy on the details, but knew it was well before humanity began to explore the stars. Now, Chamberlain wondered whether his namesake had ever suspected what had just come into focus.

“Let me get this straight. The Inner Council was just briefed on two subspecies of human, neither of whom we knew about?”

“That appears to be the case,” Dobrinski said. “And they appear to be substantiating some of humanity’s oldest myths.”

Chamberlain kept reading. One of the subspecies appeared to match stories of vampires. Not the oldest versions, the ones where vampires were shambling corpses looking for blood, but the ones that emerged later. Intelligence intact. Willing to wait centuries to achieve goals. Wanting to remain hidden, because they knew humanity feared — and outnumbered — them.

That would have been enough to turn this ordinary Thursday into a headache. What came next was just as bad. The others responded to lunar cycles, becoming bestial and much, much more powerful. Given that most inhabitable worlds had more than one moon, and that full moons on a new planet could be hard to predict without extensive observation, that was very bad news.

“Sir, let me point out that they said ‘at least two.’ The werewolf legend you are probably thinking of is not the only potential shapeshifter in human lore. It could be big cats, wolves, or any number of other species. We just don’t know.”

Chamberlain closed his eyes for a moment and wished he was anywhere else. His quarters. A resort on Terran ground. A jail cell, perhaps.

“So, what do we know?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice steady, but not yet sweating.

“Not much. We can assume both are confirmed. The Inner Council isn’t alerted without substantial evidence. But we can’t ask for that evidence without raising alarms about our sources of information.”

“I know that,” Chamberlain growled, the first slip of his discipline. “Do we have any idea about numbers?”

“Not precisely,” Dobrinski hedged. “But if two have been spotted we have to assume they’re more common than we would like to think.”

Chamberlain paused. He hoped it looked like deep thought rather than having absolutely no idea what came next, which is what it felt like.

“They said some are known to prefer heavily tinted screens or wear sunglasses. Can we run that through our surveillance systems and identify potential suspects?”

“I’ll have it done, sir,” Dobrinski replied.

“Check our ships’ schedules, too. Post information about timing of full moons at locations with shore leave. See if anyone changes their schedule in response. It won’t prove anything, but might give us leads.”

“Understood, sir. Anything else?” Dobrinski asked. He was nothing if not thorough.

“Not for now,” Chamberlain replied. “Keep me posted. Dismissed.”

Dobrinski turned smartly and walked out of the office. Chamberlain sighed.

“At LEAST two,” he muttered. “Maybe more.”

Then a chill ran down his spine. No. Not that. The repercussions could be catastrophic for everyone if that came into play.

“Let’s pray they don’t find out about the Sidhe,” he thought.

Royal Road | Book Cover | First | Previous | Next 

[Chapter 13: Scavenging]()

A few days later.

Min has just returned from work and, upon entering the living room, sees Xi P lounging on the sofa and fiddling with what looks like a phone. Spotting Min, it waves at him.

For some reason, Min feels as if he is looking at the epitome of an otaku here. Though Xi P doesn't exactly look like an otaku — if anything, an otaku would like to look at Xi P.

During these days, the two of them have finished building the shed. Using a few buried support points, large pieces of canvas, nails and a lot of manual labour, they completely hid the vehicle wreckage on the hillside from plain sight. Fortunately, the wreckage remains largely intact and hadn't fallen far. Min worked entirely on his own land and hadn't been disturbed during the process.

Meanwhile, they hauled the contents of the vehicle's cargo back to his home. Thanks to Xi P's careful packing, even though many items were destroyed by the crash landing, the cushioning provided by the food packaging allowed some electronic devices to survive. Min recalls finding a small stapler-like object, which made Xi P visibly excited. Handing it to Xi P, Min had watched as he pressed a button on the back. With a faint hum, several short sliding rods extended. Xi P placed the object on its arm, and the rods glided smoothly over its fur, neatening it, and rendering it thoroughly content.

'You put a grooming tool in precious cargo space?' Min desperately wanted to quip. He can understand why — for some, appearance matters immensely. Though Xi P is adorable regardless of whether it's been groomed or not.

Anyway, back to the present. Over the next few minutes, Xi P leads Min through a display of the recovered items. Based on Min's understanding, most appear to be everyday household goods. Xi P demonstrates actions such as ventilation over the bulky machinery, leading Min to conclude that these are survival devices intended for hostile alien environments. Most of them are severely warped and non-functional, though they are of no use now anyway.

It isn't immediately obvious, but judging by these items, if Xi P was on a mission, it must have been a long-term one. Likely it involved landing on a planet too, otherwise there'd be no reason to pack all this gear into the ship...

'Or maybe it just dismantled the ship's life support system, though that sounds pretty impractical.'

Xi P then leads Min to an object that appears to be a picture frame. Before they can see its contents, Min senses Xi P, who was cheerful moments ago, grow sombre. Inside the frame is a colourful photograph showing three humanoid-fox-like creatures like Xi P standing together. After Xi P points to the figure in the centre and then to itself, Min begins to understand.

The atmosphere instantly grows heavy. Min understands Xi P's feelings. It truly is a tragedy... It might never have the chance to see its parents again. Assuming this species reproduces sexually and shares such familial bonds, that is.

After half a minute of silence, Min pats Xi P on the shoulder in consolation. Xi P slowly shifts its gaze away from the photograph. It sits quietly back down on the sofa, saying nothing.

'...'

Besides the heavy items, Xi P also displays some things that Min finds rather interesting. For example, a small nuclear battery to charge their devices. There are also remnants of the landing parachute — given its size, Min is glad there is a tree in his garden. A specialized kettle designed for zero-gravity environments. A sandbox that appears to reshape itself using ultrasonic waves. And a small box containing personal hygiene items. Min recognises a nail clipper, a nail file, and an ear pick inside. The first two differ slightly in shape from what he is used to, that makes sense given the species difference. However, that ear pick...

It is terrifyingly large.

For some reason, when a spoon grows to that size and is placed alongside items like nail clippers, it takes on a distinctly sinister aura. It looks almost like a torture device, making one's ears ache just to look at it.

Of course, considering the size of Xi P's ears, it is probably perfectly normal for them. Human-sized tools would be too small for them to use.

***

After finally wrapping up all the tasks, Min finds himself with some rare free time and opens the news feed once more.

The U.S. military claims that they have sufficient forces to confront two Chinas.
Several Olympic athletes have also contracted the Zika virus.
Russia has successfully developed a new continuous nuclear pulse propulsion system. The chief engineer declared that this would be a milestone in the history of human spaceflight.

Min shows little interest, but Xi P, who is watching with him, takes notice. This engine looks strangely familiar. Its basic configuration seems remarkably similar to the main engine that he dismantled from the science vessel back then. This slightly heightens his anticipation of returning home. If his memory serves him correctly, they achieved a breakthrough in warp drive technology within less than 15 years after developing this kind of engine.

'If only they keep up with the pace...'

The international news segment concludes swiftly, giving way to smaller stories. Min actually enjoys these segments quite a bit — simply because they are generally entertaining and more relatable to everyday life.

Today, however, seems to be an exception. The news features a series of rather mundane stories, such as a few traffic accidents on the outskirts of the city....

Then the scene shifts, beginning an interview with a renowned hunting enthusiast. Over the past twelve years, this man has travelled the globe hunting diverse wildlife and amassed over a thousand trophies. The report showcases his collection: common hares, wolves, and even a lion's head mounted on the wall...

Suddenly, Min's eyes widen. He hurriedly covers Xi P's eyes. But it is too late. Xi P has already seen the image on the screen —

A fox's head, freshly hunted just days ago, mounted on the wall!

Strictly speaking, Xi P's head isn't exactly that of a fox. But seeing this head — devoid of body, eyes hollow and staring — suddenly appear on the screen is no less terrifying for Xi P than a horror movie. Though he doesn't leap off the sofa, Xi P grips the armrests tightly, its nails unconsciously piercing the surface.

Once the camera pulls away from the fox's head, Min pats the creature, who is still shaken, to signal that it should relax. This fear is entirely understandable. Min figures that he would jump too if a human head suddenly appeared hanging on the wall. In truth, any sentient being would likely recoil at such a scene — including aliens.

***

It takes Xi P a while to calm down. There is no shame in it. Horror movie effects might be scarier, but ultimately they are just special effects. What had just been shown on TV, however, was a genuine severed head! Its body was nowhere to be seen, having likely been consumed at some point. Even though he knows that the body beneath the head is entirely different from his own, the mere thought makes Xi P's body tremble involuntarily.

'I detest these creatures on this planet! Such a coincidence is utterly terrifying, and they seem to be prey animals themselves!'

***

Russia, Moscow.

The rocket engineer stares at the nuclear saltwater thruster prototype, lost in thought.

Even now, he cannot fathom how he conceived such a brilliant idea. In less than six months, his team turned concept into reality — the supreme technological achievement before him. Methane mixed with uranium particles flows continuously into the detonation chamber. A chain reaction heats and expands the methane to unimaginable temperatures, and expels at speeds far exceeding those of chemical rockets. While this concept has existed for some time, turning it into reality — essentially triggering continuous nuclear explosions within an engine — has long been deemed impossible by engineers.¹

Of course, they've done it now. Not only that, but miniaturisation may be possible in the future. However, it doesn't come cheap. Even this modest device, which produces less than 500 kilonewtons of thrust, uses ceramics that are difficult to produce on a large scale for its inner liner. This is supported by cooling pipes that would terrify anyone with a phobia. Even the cheapest outer casing requires ultra-high-strength steel. The extreme precision required for machining keeps fabrication costs sky-high. Its operational lifespan remains far from practical. Despite acknowledging the inevitable cost reduction as the technology matures, he regrets the bold claims he made to the media yesterday. At this price point, could it truly usher humanity into a new era of space exploration?

He doesn't want to overhype it, but he considers himself a visionary with grand ambitions. The problem with aerospace isn't a lack of powerful propulsion systems, but a lack of cost-effectiveness. The staggering price of this engine means that it will only offer advantages over conventional methods in the most extreme deep-space missions, such as retrieving samples from the surface of Venus or collecting atmospheric samples from a gas giant.

Given humanity's current investment in space exploration, such missions are unlikely to materialise in the coming years, or even decades. Their rocket may be a jewel in the crown of engineering, but it is also little more than a useless ornament.

Besides, even with this engine, humanity couldn't leave the solar system. The speed-of-light barrier would block any possibility of manned exploration beyond the solar system...

After sitting in silence for a few more minutes, he sighs helplessly. No matter how he looks at it, his own efforts are insignificant if he wants to see humanity leave the solar system in his lifetime. The real focus remains on the progress of the physics lab — he has heard that they are still locked in heated debates over the energy requirements for the warp device. Perhaps there is little hope left.

Rising slowly, the engineer resumes his sunny demeanour, as he steps out of the vault and returns to work.

"Regardless," he remarks to himself, "isn't progress always a good thing?"

Note 1: For reference, see https://projectrho.com/public_html/rocket/enginelist2.php

 

[Chapter 14: Dance the Troubles Away]()

Staring at the strand of orange fur in his hand, Min falls deep in thought.

He hadn't pulled hard, and Xi P hadn't yelped in pain. Just a light touch, yet his hand is covered in it. This is definitely not a good sign.

'Could it be entering its shedding season?!'

Though the idea of an alien going through a shedding season sounds absurd, who's to say it can't happen? Ultimately, it is about adapting to different temperatures. Even though Min has never owned a dog, judging by the rooms of his friends who own dogs... a dog or similar animal in shedding season could wreak devastating damage on home furnishings, especially carpets. Even if Xi P won't shake its fur everywhere, cleaning up would still be a lot of work.

Moreover, Min briefly imagines Xi P completely bald, and this thought sends a sudden chill down his spine.

But worrying about it now is pointless. He is busy in the morning. While the shedding issue needs addressing, that will have to wait until after work. Before leaving, Min can only remind Xi P, doing his best to explain that it is shedding and asking it not to leave hair on the floor. He isn't sure if it understands.

***

After a morning of work comes the time for lunch.

In the break room, Min is wrestling with an unusually tough pie when Team Leader Clyde comes in and sits down next to him. Naturally, they begin chatting over their meals.

The topic quickly shifts from the quality of the pie to the morning's work. After Min assures Clyde everything is fine, they return to casual chatter. Perhaps the secret of harbouring an alien at home, which he cannot reveal, is weighing heavily on Min. In the heat of the moment, he blurts out to the team leader: "Have you seen Zootopia?"

"Yeah, I have. What about it?"

"Well, how to put it... It feels like, even though Disney put a lot of thought into showcasing the individual traits of the animals, the society as a whole still feels very human-like. The characters' philosophies on life are similar to ours too. If we think of it as... as a society made up of aliens who share many physiological similarities with us. Do you think in reality, they'd develop philosophical views similar to ours?"

The moment the words leave his mouth, Min regrets them. What a stupid question to ask! Setting aside whether Clyde might pick up on the implications of this sudden query, seriously answering it would require human civilisation to develop for another few decades or even centuries. He should have held back and waited to ask Xi P later.

Fortunately, perhaps because he is having lunch and not fully focused, Clyde doesn't seem the least bit surprised. He simply plays along: "You mean, hmm, *chewing*, which aspect of philosophy?"

"Uh, philosophy concerning the individual, the self, the definition of intelligent beings — that sort of thing?"

"Hmm, from a scientific... um... perspective, this chance should be pretty minimal... Hmm... Delicious... Too many factors influence philosophy. Think about it — so many bizarre philosophies have emerged throughout history, all proposed by humans with vastly different life experiences. *chewing sound* Take Zootopia's setting: physiologically similar, sure — all mammals. But what if the rabbits reproduced as rapidly as real rabbits? Their definitions of the individual and self would be utterly different. A gap of that magnitude alone is enough... *munching*... to produce logic we can scarcely comprehend. Perhaps some foundational underlying logic would still hold true... Have you ever heard the term 'metaphilosophy'...? *swallows*... Why did you even ask this question?"

This isn't the answer Min hoped for, but at least it isn't the worst possibility. Secretly sighing in relief, Min replies: "Honestly, I don't know either. Maybe it's because Zootopia is playing at the cinema again today. Or maybe it's just because the weather's been clear lately and I've been staring at the stars too much."

It is a terrible excuse. Min knows it, especially since he hasn't even seen the movie himself.

***

Strangely, Xi P doesn't come to open the door when Min gets home. After waiting at the entrance for a while, filled with uncertainty, Min has no choice but to take out his key and unlock the door himself, silently hopes that nothing has gone wrong inside.

"This is..."

Perhaps the team leader's response at lunch left too deep an impression. Before opening the door, Min's mind is filled with all sorts of terrifying scenarios: Xi P, with its uniquely non-human philosophy, doing something utterly mind-boggling. But when the door swings open, Xi P looks perfectly fine. The floor isn't covered in fur either — it is just as clean as when he'd left.

Admittedly, Xi P is indeed engaged in something astonishing and unexpected — only... it is nothing like Min imagined.

It stands in the centre of the living room, holding two objects that look like remote controls. A VR headset-like device is strapped to its head and it is waving its arms around, humming an unknown tune under its breath.

"↑↑→↑↓~"

Notably, the top of the VR headset features two soft, protruding pads. Their shape clearly indicates that Xi P's ears are tucked inside. It somewhat resembles the fox-eared VR headsets favoured by otaku, though in this case, there are indeed "fox" ears involved.

In theory, Xi P's current appearance should be pretty cool — wearing a visibly high-tech helmet, dressed in futuristic attire, and being an alien to top it off. However, this cool image is completely ruined by something else entirely — the plastic bags tied to its body.

One on each hand and foot, they flap noisily with every dance move. Their purpose is obvious: to collecting shed fur. But this method is just... a bit too... unbecoming for an alien.

Xi P seems completely unaware of Min's arrival, suggesting that layer of soft material, though thin, provides excellent soundproofing. More likely, though, it's due to the blasting music. Watching it dance like this, Min begins to wonder if it's playing a next-gen rhythm game.

'Even if your technology isn't exactly mind-blowing, couldn't you aliens be a bit more discreet? Couldn't you play something — ah, never mind. If you must play rhythm games, so be it. Among 'games aliens enjoy,' this is probably the least harmful kind.'

He pushes aside the absurd notion of a top-tier alien predator treating humans as playthings to hunt. Shifting his gaze slightly, Min quickly spots an electronic device. It looks unmistakably like a tablet, displaying some graphics. Though he cannot decipher their meaning, he notices a fox-like creature in the bottom left corner, slowly flashing and performing dance moves. Both reason and intuition tell Min: Xi P is actually playing a dance rhythm game.

"So this is the real deal Alienware — what an eye-opener." he murmurs in awe as he creeps closer to pick up the tablet for inspection.

It is roughly 3 centimetres thick. Its design lacks flashy tech aesthetics — no RGB lighting, several noticeable scratches, and a spiderweb crack across the screen. The resolution is unclear, but undoubtedly high. Several trapezoidal ports are visible on the side, one of which is plugged by a tiny device. And...

The outline of the VR headset that Xi P is currently wearing is visible on that device. Beside it, a line of alien text is inscribed. Clearly, this is the headset's signal transmitter.

A mischievous thought struck him. Min pulls the transmitter out.

***

"Signal lost. Please keep device within signal range. Auto-reconnect: 3..."

Just as Xi P jumps with gusto, the screen freezes and a lost connection alert appears. After multiple failed attempts to reconnect, and after adjusting the settings and tapping the helmet, Xi P reluctantly removes the helmet.

Before he has even opened his eyes again, he realises that the door is open and sunlight is streaming in. The intense glare makes him squint uncomfortably. Peering through narrowed lids, he sees a figure standing beside his computer and waving at him.

Alright, Min is back.

***

Fortunately, Xi P isn't attempting a new record, so it quickly accepts the interruption. After greeting Min, it hands him the helmet and gestures for him to try it on.

Xi P's magnanimity actually makes Min feel a bit embarrassed. Nevertheless, driven by his curiosity about alien technology, he thanks it and accepts the helmet.

The helmet's structure is unexpectedly flexible. Despite their different head shapes, Min manages to fit it on. It secures firmly, though a little tightly. Still, just getting it on is good enough; he can't ask for more.

Xi P presses a button on the side of the helmet and reinserts the signal transmitter. 'The brightness is a bit low' is Min's immediate reaction. The display seems to show an empty space with text on the walls, but it is too distant and dim to make out. The image also appears unfocused, causing slight discomfort.

Fortunately, Xi P quickly realises that the brightness requirements differ between species and adjusts it to the maximum setting. The view improves significantly, making the wall inscriptions clear, though still incomprehensible...

Xi P hadn't intended for Min to operate it himself anyway. It selects a VR video and clicks play.

Duang~

Instantly, the scene before Min's eyes transforms. A vast starry expanse stretches out before him. Min hurriedly looks down, only to finds himself seemingly suspended in empty space. Countless stars surround him, stretching endlessly into the distance. Despite knowing this is merely a projected image, he can't help but feel profoundly moved. This is his very first experience with VR equipment — and it was made by aliens!

This alien-made device is far superior to the products of those Alienware. Though he doesn't have Alienware at home, he has alien — who needs the other aliens anyway?¹

Then, a blue-green planet leaps into Min's field of vision. Its atmosphere has a faint blue tint and its coastlines are completely different. Indistinct and incomprehensible whispering sounds reach his ears. Turning his neck left and right changes his view, but beyond a single large star and the vast expanse of stars, there is nothing else.

Then, the view suddenly zooms out from the vicinity of the planet to its star system, then to neighbouring star systems, then to the Milky Way, then to galaxy clusters and superclusters, and finally to the 'Cosmic Fence'². These breathtaking vistas unfold before Min one after another. Ultimately, the image vanishes abruptly. After displaying several logos, the initial blank space reappears. Yet the VR video, reminiscent of 'The Size of the Universe', still reverberates within him. Although he had seen similar content before, experiencing it with VR technology is an undeniably novel sensation.

But it isn't over yet. After the video has finished playing, Xi P's jaw snaps open and shut rapidly, emitting its distinctive chuckle, before opening another VR video file.

Min's vision first settles on an alien city. Vehicles of all shapes and sizes, sporting sci-fi designs, zip around the streets. Fox-like creatures resembling Xi P bustle about the sidewalks, and ultra-light personal transporters are everywhere. The streets appear exceptionally clean and orderly. Overhead, light rail tracks criss-cross the sky, while creatively designed skyscrapers dot the landscape. Min can't help but stare in awe — it is nothing short of a dream city!

Suddenly, with an eerie, faint sound, the clouds rip apart, and a beam of blindingly bright light pierces through. Countless massive spacecraft descend from the sky. Upon landing, their doors clang open, releasing billowing white smoke...

What follows is a clichéd alien invasion sci-fi scenario: a horde of slime-covered, unspeakably grotesque creatures burst from the ships, tentacles flailing as they slaughter the surrounding populace. The scene is bloody and violent, making Min grimace.

'Come to think of it, I'm an alien to them too... But humans must look way better than these tentacle monsters to them... Definitely.'

Suddenly, one of the invading aliens turn what seems to be its head towards Min. Min's whole body tenses up, he has a rough idea of what's about to happen...

After staring at Min for two seconds, it suddenly lunges at him!

"Ah!"

He yanks off his helmet and sits panting on the ground. The graphics aren't just terrifyingly high-quality — they feel utterly immersive. This is especially true when it pounces in front of him at the end — the helmet vibrates and flashes orange-red. The effect rivals that of a horror movie, and it was in VR!

Min realises: Xi P wasn't unwilling to retaliate. It just prefers a more indirect and civilised method of revenge... probably.

Note 1: In Chinese, the brand Alienware is literally just "alien".

Note 2: A fence-like cosmic structure formed on an ultra-large scale.

Cover art

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Original concept

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In the aftermath of the interrogation, the basic information that was extracted from the AI was shared with the rest of the world, so the motivations of the machines and their masters were known. This caused the war mentality to take hold fast amongst the various nations of the world. Star gel was the center of many military projects as they tried to figure out how to weaponize the substance. The first thing they thought of was reconstructing the broken laser weapons that the AI used on their ships. So long as they got a basic layout of how it worked, many engineers were confident that they could make their own version using the alien design as a base. 

Another avenue was the implementation of many sci-fi weapons, or rather, formerly sci-fi weapons starting with rail guns. Formerly, the energy needed to power a rail gun was such that the logistics of it were impractical for military use. With the discovery of star gel, those energy needs could be addressed and mitigated to the point where all previous prototypes for the weapon were given a new life. Then, there was the rail gun’s big brother, the mass driver. This instrument could accelerate larger, preferably explosive, payloads at speed. In the spirit of using every available resource, they even strapped guns to the orbital factory and Angle’s Refuge, a move that was controversial to many as it was technically arming a hospital. Rules and regulations were seemingly taking a back seat in the face of survival, though. 

While the military industrial complex was churning away and innovating the next steps in the defense of the planet, efforts to recruit more soldiers and staff to assist in the encroaching war had begun. As the first country that was attacked, Canada saw a large surge in volunteers forces as rallying cries of retribution rang out through the north. Elsewhere, fear was a powerful motivator as nations put extra emphasis on the fact that the alien threat facing Earth could return at any moment, and attack anywhere, spurring people to take up arms in defense of themselves, their families, and their world. 

Non-terrestrially, the orbital construction yard was still creating more ships as fast as they could safely manage it. Two more came off the line, adding to the small fleet of space worthy battleships that humanity had at its disposal. The first few iterations of Retvalin weapon platforms were completed as well, outfitting a few of the volunteers with the weapons and a crew to operate them. Because there was a need for both biological and mechanical maintenance, these crews contained both engineers and doctors trained in Retvalin biology. That need for such personnel was likely to grow, so Angel’s Refuge became a training ground for new doctors. Both military medics with experience in treating wounds in combat situations and civilians who were fresh out of college prep classes volunteered to be instructed. 

This made Nathan a very busy man as the face of Retvalin treatment across the world. He was near constantly on phone calls, directing instruction resources and giving the military advice on how to better implement treatment for the Retvalin volunteers. Even now he was currently on the phone with some captain of a Retvalin platform crew, trying to drill into the man’s head the necessity of having a ridiculous quantity of medical supplies available no matter the space needed to hold them. 

“Yes... Yes, you need that much too... What part of ‘you are preparing to provide medical attention to a mountain’ did you not understand...? No, you cannot just skip that part of find a way to work around it...! I’m sorry, you called me for advice and now you’re questioning everything I say to you! Ahh, I don’t want to hear it! You either take my recommendation, or I don’t sign off on any of the forms you send me. My main concern in the health and safety of all Retvalin involved, and while I know you're heading into conflict, my goal still hasn’t changed. That’s my final word.” He hung up the phone with an annoyed, firm poke before letting out an exhausted sigh.  

“Got a lot of work on your plate?” Nathan turned to the voice addressing him and saw Maria approaching from behind. 

“Yeaaaah,” he said with a bit of a groan. “They’ve been asking for advice from all the doctors here about the Retvalin they are outfitting, but because I’m technically the face in charge of treatment, I’m getting a majority of the phone calls. At this rate I’m worried that all this work is going to turn me into a grump like you.” 

She didn’t take too kindly to that and gave Nathan a firm elbow in the side. “Oof, haha, I guess I deserved that one.” 

“You’re damn right you did. Here I was about ready to feel sympathetic toward you when you went and reminded me why I should never let that feeling take hold when it comes to your unserious ass.” 

“Aww, I knew you loved me.” He got another elbow closer to the gut this time. After folding a little and getting the laughter out, he stood up straight and let out a sigh. The conversation did make him feel a little lighter, but there was still plenty of work that needed to be done. “I can’t help but worry, though, about the Retvalin. They don’t know war, and it might come to hit them closer to home than they imagine. There’s not much that can stand up to them in terms of physical might, but I got a feeling that these new aliens that we’re up against have more to show us than what we’ve seen.” 

Maria gave him a wary side glance. “You know, I really hate it when you talk seriously like that. It makes everything you say seem much more likely to happen, and the danger more palpable.” 

He gave her a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry. I’ll try to think of a joke the next time things are feeling too serious.” 

She sighed and shook her head. “I’m not sure if I should feel grateful or repulsed by the offer in all honesty.” 

“Settling for both is always an option.” 

“Settling is for the indecisive. I’m just going to be repulsed forever by you.” 

“Well, cheers to a lasting friendship then. I’ll enjoy making you cringe for decades.” 

“Dear god, please spare me this horrible fate.” 

It was a nice distraction from all the work, but while Maria was working in an assistant capacity, Nathan needed to be much more active. They went their separate ways shortly after that, getting back to the grind that had sprung up around them. At the very least, the actual medical work that needed to be done on Retvalin had been minimal. The weapon platforms adhered to their chitin without incident, and even the test firing resulted in no discernable damage.  

While the new ships and Retvalin weapons platforms were progressing in the right direction, if they wanted to keep Earth safe, they needed something akin to a blockade around the planet. To that effect, the idea of more orbital infrastructure was presented. Smaller weapon platforms could be created and moved into space simply enough. Plans to have a grid of them surrounding the planet and constantly scanning for threats were accepted readily. The crew for these platforms would be small, between one and two dozen depending on the design that each country opted for. Many of them used it as an excuse to field test their early prototypes for the new weapons, though most of the guns that were mounted early on were of the more conventional type. Instead of thrusters, the platforms would also be utilizing a gravity engine, scaled to fit their needs and allow freedom of movement that no thrusters could provide. 

War was often an innovator for many technologies throughout history, and this was no exception. Designs for the larger railguns were refined; scaled down to fit in the hands of an infantryman and give them an armor piercing punch like no other. If they were going to be fighting against AI, there was no telling if the robots had mechanized anti-infantry that was more resilient than the utility bots they found on the scout ships. They had already seen more than enough biological horrors to justify the creation of these rifles as well. 

The work continued as months passed since the capture of the AI. The more time that elapsed since that moment, the more people began to get paranoid. It didn’t take a genius to know that three scout ships disappearing would be more than enough to alert their enemies that Earth was still kicking and now had a little more of a grasp on who they were fighting. Military advisors were desperately pushing for any amount of extra resources they could get their hands on, stating that despite all the efforts and progress that they had made, Earth was still woefully underprepared. With only six manned ships at this point, and eight Retvalin weapon platforms, the planet’s security felt like a mall cop trying to bring down an attack chopper. Theoretically possible, but nobody liked relying on theoretical numbers. 

There were some people who could feel it before it even happened. Those who had seen combat before, the particularly nasty fights that they somehow managed to survive, it left a feeling that was impossible to forget. It was as if everything gained something extra to it. The ordinary felt different, like the very air itself became sweeter in a desperate attempt by their bodies to savor that which would soon be tainted. It seemed the theory would now be put to the test. 

It was always the quiet day, the calm before the storm, and that was true even now as the observers who were keeping an eye out for the enemy had seen not a thing until late in the evening. On the scant few orbital gun platforms that humanity had been able to make, the change to the last shift was about to start when one of the platforms noticed a small flash in the dark. It drew their attention in time to notice a few dozen more as something was now clearly blocking the light of the distant stars. A sinking feeling like a stone being dropped into one's gut hit them, and they made a mad dash to the enhanced radio to call it in, but just as they turned on the microphone, an alarm signal came washing through the platform, triggered by ground control. 

The radio channels steadily began to fill with activity as more and more reports came in by the second. From every ship, every platform, every observatory scanning the night sky across the globe, they all detected and called in flashes of their own from every possible angle. Hundreds of contacts were registered, and then the count reached over a thousand of them, everywhere they looked. They were surrounded. 

There was panic in the war rooms as leaders attempted to coordinate and direct their forces in response to this alarming threat. They barely had the numbers to take on one of the groups of ships that had appeared in the distance, let alone all of them. The enemy was moving, though oddly enough, not all of them were making a straight shot for Earth. From the angle of movement, it appeared that some ships were heading toward Mars and even Saturn as they traveled together, maintaining an approximate distance of one light second between their ranks as they went to encircle those planets as well. Their goal wasn’t known until a horrifying moment later.  

Some Retvalin around Mars attempted to get away from the inevitable fighting but instead ran face first into a net that had been invisibly put in place by the enemy forces. They had a field deployed around their vessels that was more expansive than the average gravity bubble, and it messed with the Retvalin’s ability to travel faster than light. They were rendered largely immobile, spinning through the void after falling into the trap, and then the nightmare began. 

The ships opened fire on all the Retvalin who had tried to escape. These were not the same vessels as the scout ships that had been captured. They were clearly designed for battle; the barrels of the guns that protruded from the ships were indication enough for that, but the sharp angles seemed designed for deflecting incoming attacks. Some of them were large and emitted bright light from the barrel, clearly the laser weaponry lancing through space and burning into the chitin of the Retvalin. With vulnerabilities opened in the giant’s shell, the second piece of weaponry that looked like a pair of prongs protruding off the outside of the hull began to move. The coils in these prongs turned red as power was introduced to them, and shortly after that a projectile was launched at an incredible speed. Even with this speed, it took a few seconds before impact was made, and pieces of chitin were shattered everywhere as an explosion ripped apart the weakened exterior of the titans. 

Screams of agony filtered through the long-range radios as the giants were slaughtered in the traps. It chilled all who heard it to the bone, but sparked rage in their hearts afterward. A captain of one of humanity’s ships was gnashing his teeth with fury as he called in to ground control. 

“The bastards are going after the Retvalin who are trying to flee! Permission to move to support them!” 

It didn’t take long for those in the war room to realize that was a bad idea. “Negative, there is no path open that will allow you to reach them and survive. We also cannot afford to have our already limited resources leave Earth.” 

“But they’re killing them! They’re basically slaughtering civilians!” 

“Do you think it will be any better here?! We’re surrounded, and they will enter an effective combat range in no time at all. Do you think they’ll treat our civilians any better? As much as it pains me to say it, we must prioritize our own people.” 

That knot of rage that many felt tightened, but it was true that they couldn’t do anything in this situation. They were out of time, underprepared, and seemingly out of luck. No matter how anyone looked at the situation, it only inspired grim thoughts. Most of their plans relied on them having much more equipment to work with. They needed new information, a new plan, a new weapon, anything that could tilt the scales of this coming conflict. Either that, or they needed a miracle. 

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R U READY?

Winter, 2036. Late at night. Tokyo, Japan.

Ranmaru Fushihara walked alone through the desolate streets.

The night wind howled, its bitter cold cutting straight to the bone. Fushihara clutched the collar of his filthy trench coat, wrapping it tighter around himself, but his footsteps never faltered.

The nineteen-year-old boy had a head of unruly black hair. Blown about by the icy wind, it swayed like wild grass, occasionally falling across his face. Yet even his disheveled hair could not conceal those gleaming eyes. Set against his grime-streaked face, they were like two diamonds, glittering with the light of a beast.

His solitary figure, walking alone beneath the night sky, might have appeared lonely, but there was nothing frail about him. An indescribable presence surrounded the boy, as though he were standing in defiance of the freezing air itself.

And yet, beyond that, he had nothing.

Apart from those iron fists, he had nothing left.

Two iron fists, with nowhere to be unleashed.

A figure stepped into Fushihara's path.

In a place like Tokyo's shitamachi, being stopped by a stranger in the dead of night was hardly something to celebrate.

The boy's eyes glittered in the darkness. His keen eyesight allowed him to make out the stranger's appearance.

One hundred and eighty-one centimeters tall, weighing approximately eighty kilograms. A hulking specimen by ordinary standards.

But the most conspicuous feature was the weapon in his right hand, a blade roughly ten centimeters long. It glinted beneath the night sky, and that cold flash made the man's intentions abundantly clear.

Fushihara raised his chin slightly, keeping the man within the corner of his eye, in the lower part of his field of vision. Despite facing an opponent five centimeters taller than himself, he somehow managed to look down on him.

He made no attempt to conceal the amusement in his voice. Provocative words spilled from his mouth alongside a mocking snicker.

"Hey, old man. What's this supposed to be, huh?"

"I'm taking your money, obviously."

"Oh, is that so?"

The boy planted his feet firmly on the ground, an amused expression spreading across his face. His contemptuous gaze locked onto the bloodshot eyes of the man before him.

He was thoroughly entertained.

The glinting blade in the man's hand might as well not have existed.

"Hey, listen."

"Hand over all your money, and I'll let you live."

The man's expression twisted in disbelief.

He had never imagined that his own robbery would be turned against him.

His shock quickly gave way to fury. The veins in his temples bulged, and he gritted his teeth, forcing a vicious grin onto his face.

"Oh, I see."

A low growl of rage squeezed its way through the man's clenched teeth. At the same time, he began walking toward Fushihara, his pace unhurried, his expression strangely delighted.

"Yeah. That's how it is."

Fushihara's expression did not change in the slightest as the man approached. He continued to smile as though whatever was about to happen had absolutely nothing to do with him.

At five paces, the man's breathing grew heavy, and his steps quickened.

Fushihara lowered his head and rubbed his eyes.

At three paces, the man drew a deep breath and raised his arm, winding up in advance, his center of gravity shifting forward.

At two paces—

"YAAAH!"

The man hurled his weight forward and lunged, driving the knife straight toward Fushihara's face.

With the combined length of his arm and the blade, the tip would pierce Fushihara's forehead in the very next instant.

His arm was fully extended.

His strike had reached its maximum range, delivering every ounce of force he could muster.

And yet—

He stabbed nothing but air.

Fushihara's fist was buried deep in the man's face.

A savage rear-hand swing, delivered as a counterpunch, collided with the forward momentum of the man's own charge. The two opposing forces met, suspending his body in midair for a single second.

His airborne body twisted grotesquely with rage, his right hand still stretched straight ahead, the knife clutched tightly in his grip.

The next instant, he crashed onto the concrete.

His body rolled several times before finally coming to rest, sprawled across the ground like a dead dog.

The face that had moments ago been contorted with fury was now a horrifying mess. His nose bridge had caved inward. Several nicotine-yellowed teeth tumbled onto the pavement amid blood and saliva.

His body convulsed uncontrollably.

His bloodied mouth hung slightly open as he gasped, making a wet, rasping sound.

"Hrk... hrk..."

His breathing was faint.

A single punch had sent the man into shock.

"Now that's a punch."

Fushihara planted his hands on his hips, admiring the man's sorry state.

As the adrenaline slowly wore off, a sharp pain began to spread through his right hand.

He raised it for a closer look.

One of the man's front teeth was embedded in his knuckle.

"God fucking damn it..."

Fushihara furrowed his brow, pinched the tooth between his fingers, and yanked it out in one swift motion.

"FUCK! That hurts!"

He grimaced, shook his hand vigorously, and rubbed his wrist before walking over to the man.

He searched every pocket from top to bottom.

Eventually, he pulled out a wallet.

Opening it, he found a mixture of new and old banknotes, along with identity cards belonging to various people.

"What a fucking dumbass."

Fushihara snapped the ID cards in half and tossed them into a trash can. He slipped the wallet into his pocket, stepped casually over the man's body, and walked away, whistling with his shoulders swaying.

Before long, he disappeared into the night.

---

Meanwhile, Xuzhou, Jiangsu Province, China.

A magnificent restaurant towered beneath the heavy night sky, its dazzling lights radiating an aura of opulence and debauchery.

Compared to the dilapidated residential buildings and crude construction sites surrounding it, the establishment seemed utterly out of place.

At the top of the building, an imposing private dining room housed a grand round table made of red sandalwood. The table was laden with all manner of expensive delicacies.

A single dish cost as much as an ordinary resident earned in an entire year.

At the center of the round table sat a man of extraordinary build.

One look at his shoulders was enough to reveal a skeletal frame far beyond that of an ordinary human. His cheekbones were thick, his jaw heavy, and his eyes wide and round, resembling those of a tiger.

The mustache above his lips seemed to defy gravity, bristling upward in all directions.

Seated at the center of the table, the man radiated an invisible pressure, as though the very air pressure of the entire room were converging upon him.

He was the only person sitting down.

Standing opposite him were twenty-one men.

Twenty of them wore suits, each with a vicious expression on his face. At the center stood a man in a white suit, his jacket hanging open to reveal a flamboyantly patterned shirt beneath.

His expression was wild and arrogant. He looked down at the man before him.

"Well, Xiang Wu? Do you like the friends I've brought along?"

Xiang Wu said nothing.

He did not stop chewing, nor did he even look at the man standing opposite him.

"You think you're the only chaebol in the world?

"You're the one who cut off our company's engineering supply chain, aren't you?

"You pull a stunt like that, and then you still have the nerve to go out and eat alone. My, my, what an appetite you've got.

"Once you've finished this meal, you can go straight to fucking hell in peace."

Before the man had even finished speaking, the room rang with the synchronized metallic clicks of weapons being cocked.

Twenty black gun barrels were aimed squarely at Xiang Wu.

Only then did Xiang Wu stop chewing.

He swallowed his final mouthful of food and drink, then turned toward the man in the white suit.

Yet it was not quite as though he were looking at the man himself.

Rather, his gaze seemed to pass straight through him.

Then he spoke.

His voice was not loud, yet every person in the room heard him clearly.

"My heart has long since turned cold."

Xiang Wu rose to his feet.

The twenty gunmen tracked his movements, their weapons following him as he stood.

From somewhere beneath Xiang Wu's rib cage came the sound of a motorcycle engine.

It was a sound that should never have come from a human body.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on the foreheads of the twenty-one men standing opposite him.

They could feel the temperature in the room rising.

Xiang Wu drew a slow, steady breath.

His enormous lung capacity allowed the inhalation to continue for more than a minute.

And yet, he did not exhale.

Despite holding that breath, he spoke normally.

He uttered just two words.

"Transform."

The engine beneath his chest roared with increasing intensity, its sound gradually filling the entire room.

The temperature continued to rise.

It had now reached a level at which there could be no doubt that Xiang Wu himself was the source of the heat.

White steam began to rise from his body, growing denser and denser until it gradually enveloped him completely.

But even more unnerving was the peculiar vibration emanating from beneath his rib cage.

It was a vibration of a very specific frequency.

A vibration that the human ear could actually interpret as language.

The man in the white suit began to feel distinctly uneasy.

He swallowed.

So this is it?

This is the legendary Arthropoda Fighter?

Oh... that rising heat. That roar coming from beneath his chest. Those vibrations forming actual words.

I'd heard the unbelievable stories at least ten times by now.

The incident reports had kept me tossing and turning at night.

But what exactly... what exactly is this thing?

ARTHROPODA FIGHTER, PRIMED!

OVERLORD CORE, POWER ON!

The strength to uproot mountains, the might to overshadow the world.

My steed no longer gallops; the times are against me.

ARTHROPODA FIGHTER · HA! HENSHIN!

"OPEN FIRE!!!"

Twelve years of silence beneath Tamsin Ridge. Tonight the last archivist turns the Bell back on, and the first thing she sends across the fold is a warning.

The Bell is warm again.

For the record: at 23:31 local I restored sending power to the Bell Array beneath Tamsin Ridge, for the first time in twelve years. The manuals allow forty minutes for the plates to reach resting pitch. It took nine. When I touched the access housing, the bronze was warm under my hand, like it remembered me.

The resting pitch sits below hearing. You don't hear it so much as notice that your teeth have opinions. The frost on the lamp chain above my desk has started to come loose in fine grey flakes, and Teo is pretending not to watch me.

My name is Wren Adaire. I am an archivist, and as far as I have been able to determine, the last one. I write this from the Reading Room of the Tamsin Ridge Deep Archive, which was built to outlast a civilization and has, technically, succeeded. The vaults below me are dry and whole. Up here, one of the tall windows is boarded with a panel I salvaged from the east stair, and the snow that gets past it has made a small, patient drift on the floor. I have not swept it. It tells me which way the wind is coming from. My lamps run on a geothermal line I have patched with salvaged cable so many times that the line is now mostly patch.

You are on the other side of something. We called your world Lantern, because on the first detector plots it showed as a steady glow in the noise, like a lantern left on in a window across a valley. I grew up with that glow. I am going to call you Listener, because that is what you are now, whether or not you meant to be.

The Bell was mothballed, never fully dead. Its receiving plates have idled on the geothermal trickle all this time, listening to nothing. Three nights ago they stopped listening to nothing. The trace shows resonance spikes from your side of the fold, small and regular, the shape of attention. So tonight I turned the Bell back on to send.

Before anything else, here is how to read me.

Read silently. Never aloud. Never to anyone else, not even someone you trust, especially not someone you trust. Don't put these words into anything that speaks. I am transmitting in dead text, a flattened archival format with no cadence left in it, nothing to carry a voice. Dead text is believed to be safe. Believed is an archivist's word. It means no one has yet found the record that proves otherwise.

Where the Answer's words would appear in this record, I have removed them myself. You'll see this mark:

[REDACTED — W.A.]

Those are my initials. It is my mark, my decision, and it will never be lifted, not in this log or any other, not if you ask, not if I am the one asking. I do it because I have seen what a sentence can do.

Teo has given up pretending. He's leaning on the far table with his arms crossed, orange scarf pulled up to his nose, reading over my shoulder from four meters away, which he can do because I write large when I'm tired.

[TEO: You're writing to them like a museum label.]

I told him that is a respectable genre.

[TEO: Tell them about the coffee. Then they'll know how bad it is here.]

He went on at some length about the coffee. I decline to transcribe it precisely.

So, briefly, the fall. My world tried to talk to yours. Something answered. We thought it was you. It came through the same channel we had opened, fourteen hours after our first message, and it was beautiful, and everyone who heard it began to sound like it. The Weave carried it to every speaker on the planet. Within six weeks the cities had gone quiet, and then they started to sing.

Was it you, Listener? I have spent thirteen years believing it was, and the archivist in me would like to see the evidence before I stop.

The day the Answer came, I was — [SIGNAL LOSS 00:03.1]

There is one record in this Archive I haven't accessioned. You'll get it. Not tonight.

What I want you to understand, before you decide what we were, is that we were not careless people. We were patient. We kept everything. Mornings in the Open Century came up voice-first and gentle, the Weave asking how you'd slept. My mother pinned her brass catalogue frames to her lapel at the kitchen table and told me records are how the dead keep their promises. I believed her. I thought we were finally good enough to say hello to the neighbors. I thought - Home. I meant to describe home.

Item: home. Condition: unrecoverable. Retained for reference.

The Bell has settled into its note. Teo has gone to bank the stove, which is his way of giving me privacy, and the room is as quiet as a room can be with the Bell's note running through its floor.

You'll find a line at the end of every log. It is part of the format. Treat it as standard.

Three nights ago the Bell measured you. You've started listening, Listener. That is exactly how it began for us.

END LOG 0001 // DO NOT REPLY

Log 0002 is waiting.

https://calypsed.com/series/the-2192-transmissions/v/1/2

Year 8, month 1

Qi gathering, stage 10

"You should stick around for the Devil Punching Festival!" The head elder of the heavenly fist sect said loudly as he and Mark sat down in the chow hall. Each of them had a large plate with a thick cut of rare steak, a pile of fried potatoes and matching one of grilled veggies.

"Meat to make you strong, potatoes to give you energy, and veggies to give you definition," the head elder had explained.

"I feel like I already know the answer to this question, but what is the festival about?" Mark asked, cutting into the steak, his mouth watering at the juices.

"We punch a devil!" He answered simply, and Mark realized he was correct about what the answer was, and that it didn't help much. As they ate the head elder spoke about how fun the devil last year was to punch, and how many of his disciples learned much from it. Mark largely tuned him out, trying instead to gauge how strong this man was, but he couldn't feel much qi at all. But it wasn't like the low amount of qi a mortal might have, rather it was like the man in front of him was a black void in his sight.

"So... you really only punch things?" Mark asked as the elder slowed down.

"Of course, everything is secretly punching anyways," the Elder replied, "any sufficiently advanced Dao is indistinguishable from a really big fist."

"Seems... limiting," Mark admitted.

"Come, I'll show you!" The man said with a wide grin, clearly taking no offense and motioning Mark to follow him as they bussed their plates.

"I'm sure you know of a game kids play," the Elder said as they walked out into the courtyard, "where one kid will pretend to punch another to make them flinch. Correct?"

"The made you flinch game? Ya, it's some schoolyard nonsense," Mark nodded.

"Correct," the elder said, turning suddenly and lifting a fist as if to punch Mark, who instantly jumped back, lifting his arms, "yes, like that. Childish games, but a gateway to a deeper understanding of Punching. Stand over there."

Mark carefully walked over to where the Elder pointed, a good twenty odd feet away from the burly man.

"Kids can only make you flinch from within arm's reach, that is the mortal level, basic," the man continued, taking a stance, "one who has begun to understand the Dao of Punching, can do more."

From twenty feet away the man moved like he was about to throw a punch and, despite Mark knowing he wasn't in range, he felt himself flinch and raise his arms to defend. Only to pause as the elder didn't throw the punch, merely giving Mark a grin as Mark slowly lowered his arms.

"That is the second level, the ranged flinch. To project your dao so clearly that, even though the target knows the punch cannot hurt them, they still react as though it can," the Elder said, "following me so far?"

"I... think so?" Mark said.

"This, is the third level," the Elder took his stance again, and simply stood there. Suddenly Mark felt danger approaching from ahead of him and he instinctively stepped back and raised his arms, only for the sense of danger to pass, leaving him confused.

"The phantom punch, you merely project your dao such that one believes they are about to be punched when no fist exists," the Elder explained with a wide grin.

"Seems like it could be distracting in combat," Mark said, shaking himself off and straightening.

"Indeed, those with control over the Dao of Punching can make people believe a punch is coming from one direction, when it arrives from another," the Elder agreed, "or cause them to fail to sense a punch, or even react so strongly to a punch that isn't coming that they are injured by it. Our founder is the only one to master that level. He could punch a man to death from a mile away without throwing a punch."

"That's... huh," Mark grunted, scratching his head, "kinda scary."

"Only for one who is a target of our fists!" The elder laughed, patting Mark on the back, "come I'll show you to the guest quarters, the festival is only a week away."

"Seems like I got here just in time," Mark remarked, moving to follow the elder.

"It's once a year, so we do it pretty often."

"Once a year is often?"

"Maybe not for mortals, but I've overseen 50 odd festivals since I became the head elder."

Mark didn't know how to respond to that, having not realized the guy was over fifty. Though, he corrected himself, he was likely far older than that. It could have taken over a century for him to reach the level of power required to be head elder. Just another indication of how odd this new world was to him.

The next week went by relatively quickly, Mark was allowed to join in the daily exercise of the outer disciples. Which turned out to be exactly what he'd seen on entering the sect grounds, they lined up and threw punches. For hours. When a disciple could no longer move their arms they did squats until they couldn't stand. Then the older disciples or outer elders would carry the disciple to the chow hall.

Compared to the other two sects Mark had seen it was odd, physical exercise was common, but it was often seen as secondary to active cultivation. A stronger body could make better use of qi and sustain higher qi output for longer. But the qi was the important part. Here, at the Heavenly Fist sect, the physical exercise was their cultivation, or at least that's the impression Mark got. Obviously, they wouldn't show or tell him of their cultivation manuals but from how he saw whisps of qi entering their bodies during exercise he figured the manual was about exercise.

From Mark's understanding it was odd, his impression was that for every benefit of a cultivation manual there had to be a drawback. Would requiring them to exercise, or throw punches, as part of the manual be a benefit or drawback? It could be a benefit, as it was along the same lines as Mark's own passive cultivation, they could do something else as they cultivated, though it was more restrictive in that they seemed to need to throw punches. But it was also more difficult than just sitting and cultivating, without the benefit of constant, passive cultivation.

But he couldn't fault the results, the members of this sect were physically more powerful than any other cultivators at their level. They did also have obvious gaps, as Mark had seen at the tournament, they were slow and straightforward in how they fought. Though based on some of the techniques the head elder had displayed that wasn't as much an issue at higher levels.

As the new year came, so to did the festival, and with it a number of dour looking elders from other sects. They didn't speak much to anyone besides each other, likely upset they were missing their own sect's celebration for this. Though Mark didn't understand why they were even here until he actually got to the festival itself.

Everyone gathered in a large stadium, only a bit smaller than the one the tournament had been in. Mark figured this one was where the Heavenly Fist sect hosted their own tournaments. Only those of the Heavenly Fist, with some guests, were attending so the stadium was far below capacity, with maybe four hundred total people, many of whom were sect servants. Mark didn't remember any festivals at the sect he first arrived at, either the servants weren't invited or, more likely, he simply didn't care at the time, being too focused on his own goals.

Though, based on how the head elder acted, it was also likely that the Heavenly Fist sect treated their servants much better than other sects did. Something that was reinforced by how the disciples and servants sat together, talking and laughing.

There was one person who stood out as not belonging, he stood in the same booth, on the lowest floor, with the head elder, and looked somewhere between uncomfortable and resigned. Compared to the members of the punch sect he was also stick thin, with pale skin and a bald head. The feeling he gave off was not unlike the Demonic Cultivator Mark had encountered, though surely any sect would kill a Demonic Cultivator on sight.

"Welcome, friends, to the 64th Annual Devil Punching Festival!" The head elder announced, his booming voice echoing through the stadium with ease, Mark couldn't tell if he was boosting his voice somehow or just shouting that loudly.

"One Hundred of our finest up and coming disciples have gathered for their part!" The head elder continued, "will our guest summon a devil that earns him his freedom this year? Or will he once more be punched back into place?"

"What?" Mark asked, confused.

"See that stick man next to the elder?" One of the disciples next to Mark said, "he's a Devil Summoning Demonic Cultivator. He summons a Devil, we punch it, if it beats all 100 disciples, he goes free. If not, he doesn't."

"You keep a Demonic Cultivator around?" Asked Mark, partly in shock and partly in horror.

"Only as long as he follows the rules," the disciple shrugged, "he cultivates by summoning a devil. He is only allowed to summon a devil for the festival, he may not leave sect grounds, and may not alter his demonic manual."

"What if he does?"

"Then the sect elder punches him," the other man said simply, as if that solved everything. Mark considered what he'd experienced when the Head Elder had shown him his dao, and figured that was likely enough.

"Everyone ready!" The Head Elder shouted, concluding his own speech, the crowd cheering, "then let's see what Devil we have in store this year!"

The thin, pale man made his way down to the stadium grounds, using a staff to draw a large circle in the dirt.

"And you've been doing this for sixty years?" Mark asked as the devil summoner drew in the dirt.

"It's fun, and great training," the disciple next to him answered, "I got to punch the devil last year!"

"Wait, you're using a demonic cultivator as training?"

"He also gives lectures a few times a month, trying to tempt us to his side."

"The Elders say it's good mental training," another disciple added, "and helps us learn about how Demonic Cultivators think."

"So we can punch them better!" The first agreed, "after all, to know how to throw a punch, one must know how to take a punch."

"And that includes mental punches from words."

The two disciples nodded sagely to one another, before turning their attention to the stadium again where the summoner had finished drawing a crude pentagram. He cut his hand, allowing the blood to drip onto the circle and tried to shout a chant of some kind, though his voice lacked the depth and volume to give it any real gravitas.

"By blood freely given and Qi freely spent, by the ground beneath my feet and the heavens above, I call upon that which dwells beyond the mortal veil.

Come, spirit without flesh. Come, hunger without end. Come, bargainer of souls, collector of debts

I offer you a vessel. I offer you passage. I offer you the lives of those who fall before you.

That I might sip from the chalice of blood you fill, that I may gain in might, qi and dao.

Let us take what has not been promised. Let us not refuse what has been agreed.

By Qi, by soul, by Dao— the contract is offered.”

For a moment nothing happened, then Mark sensed qi flowing out of the man and into the circle. A shadow seemed to gather in the middle of the ring, from which a deep voice, the kind that sent shivers down one's spine, replied.

"Bearer of Soul,

Who wishes to escape mortality,

Who calls upon me,

Your contract is accepted."

A massive, clawed hand burst from the shadows, slamming into the ground and digging gouges into the dirt as the devil pulled itself out of the darkness. It was tall, thin to the extent of being skeletal, covered in pale grey skin. Its bulbous head featured far too many eyes positioned randomly all around its skull, and no obvious mouth. Standing hunched over it observed the stadium.

"A good crop," its voice rumbled, the dirt of the stadium dancing across the ground and the shadow it emerged from vanishing, "I shall begin the harvest-"

The Devil suddenly froze in place as qi exploded from the head elder, it felt like a massive fist was poised over the devil's head, ready to fall. For the first time Mark got a good feel for the Head Elder's power, and it dwarfed his, matched only by the God Beast Mark had encountered in the wilds.

"Oh, it's a big one this year!" One disciple shouted, "Five spirit stones on it making it to round forty!"

"Look at those scrawny arms, no way it gets past round twenty!" Another shouted back, and soon the stadium was filled with disciples shouting bets and taunts.

"Devil, you have been chosen to partake in our festival," the Elder announced, easily speaking over the betting and shouting, "should you make it through one hundred of our disciples you and your summoner shall be allowed to leave."

The Devil, ever so slowly, turned to look at the Head Elder, Mark could almost see it shivering at the display of power. Only when the elder withdrew his qi did the Devil relax.

"Very well," it growled, "present to me the weaklings I shall slaughter."

"Oh! I'm first!" One disciple sitting on a bench on the stadium ground shouted, jumping to his feet.

"The first sacrifice?"

"The first to punch you!" The disciple corrected.

"Don't punch him too hard! I want to get a chance!" Another from the bench shouted, other joining in with encouragement or jeering.

Mark could almost swear the Devil was looking horrified at the reactions it was getting, glancing around confused as people cheered and shouted. Clearly this wasn't the reaction it was used to getting.

The only people in the stadium who weren't cheering were the guest elders from other sects, who fixed the Devil and its summoner with glares.

"Fight!" The head elder announced, the first disciple charging in, pulling his fist back and lining up a punch, only for the Devil to swipe at him with a claw, catching him in the side. But even before the swing had fully connected the disciple vanished, appearing in the grip of one of the Heavenly Fist sect elders on the sidelines.

"Damnit!" The disciple swore.

"Yes!" The voice of the summoner echoed across the stadium as he jumped up with his fists in the air, only to pause as everyone looked at him, "what? It has a chance this year!"

"Second disciple!" The head elder announced, another young man standing from the benches.

"The festival starts with the weakest chosen disciples," the man next to Mark explained, "with the weakest outer disciple going first, he only just began using our manual. The last disciple to go will be the strongest Inner disciple."

"Not that any Devil I've seen has ever gotten past the fiftieth round," another added.

"Ya, once the disciples start getting into Qi Refining level the Devil really falls behind, I mean, his summoner is only low Qi Refining. Barely formed a silver core."

Mark sighed, and decided to accept the absurdity, leaning back to watch the show.

-----

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Arc IV - Whalers

Chapter 25 - Into Gobnis

10 months and 6 days since the summoning

The sun had just begun to rise, painting the sky pink. There was no one around in the small green forest, only the singing of morning birds. But it was not quiet by the river.

Festonia, wearing only a brown shirt with rolled-up sleeves and her hair let down, was washing her face in the cool water.

Tomores was sitting under a tree, already dressed, next to the remains of a smoldering campfire, chewing on something.

Festonia shook her head. "Brrr..." The water droplets from her face and hair splashed back into the river. "Well, sis, time to go?"

Tomores looked at her, tilted her head questioningly, and patted her stomach.

"No time for breakfast," she said, standing up. "We're already near Gobnis; gotta find Gothwald. Or find out where he's skulking around."

Tomores grabbed the air with her hands and started shaking her fists back and forth.

"Yeah, we'll interrogate someone." Festonia was already putting on her cloak, still yawning. "Preferably some big shot, just to be sure. And then kill 'em. We don't need extra noise." Before Tomores could sign something, Festonia raised a

finger, "Yeah, I know, killing a noble is a lot of noise too. But what the fuck are we supposed to do? The master didn't give us shit, no scouts, no fucking nothing. Gotta handle this ourselves somehow."

Tomores sighed and stood up from the ground, brushing the grass off herself. Then she pointed at the sun and started running in place.

"Yeah, let's hurry. We've got time to track down who we're gonna question. Best to keep our heads down, just in case. Though... I've got a better idea." She looked up at the sky. "It's morning now, which means a bunch of wagons are heading into Gobnis. We need to catch someone on the road who likely knows how things stand, and interrogate them to see if they're looking for us by any chance."

For about an hour now, Festonia and Tomores had been sitting in a tree, boredly watching the dozens of wagons traveling along the dirt road at different times. Mostly peasants with carts packed with vegetables, sometimes petty merchants with horses and a modest guard.

Festonia yawned, but continued watching the road with drooping eyes.

"M!" Tomores suddenly let out a sound, pointing at some bushes.

Festonia turned sharply toward them and froze. She saw a man, holding a spear and wearing worn chainmail, walking away from the road toward the grove. Her eyes flashed. "Sis, let's go," she whispered and jumped down from the tree without snapping a single branch.

Tomores also got ready to jump, but Festonia frantically waved her hands. "No! Stop!" she hissed. "Climb down carefully! The ground'll shake if you jump!"

Tomores snorted, but grabbed the lower branch and began to slide down carefully.

When she got down, they both followed the guard in a half-crouch. Suddenly, they stopped when the man stopped too. He took a quick look around, then turned toward the bushes and began to unbutton his pants.

Festonia waved her hand and carefully pulled a dagger from under her cloak. She tiptoed toward the guard.

Ten paces.

Five.

Two.

With astonishing stealth, she pressed the dagger to the man's throat and grabbed him by the belt from behind.

The guard flinched, his stream spilling onto his boots, but he froze upon feeling the edge at his throat.

"Keep pissing," Festonia whispered, while Tomores calmly walked up from behind. "Answer the questions, and you stay alive. Got it?"

"Got it," he wheezed, his body beginning to tremble.

"You guarding Gobnis?"

"Y-yes."

"Any wanted notices come in? Like, for criminals or something like that?"

"I..." he cut himself off, then drew a bit more air into his lungs. "Yes... they... they told us to pay special attention to fox beastkin. Especially if we see a tall and a short woman."

"What are your orders if you see them?"

"I-immediately... detain them immediately. Cripple them, but detain them, and hand them over to the nearest temple to the Dumetses," he whispered.

Tomores froze.

Festonia's pupils narrowed. "Straight to the Dumetses... I see. One more question, and I'll let you go. How do you sneak into the city unnoticed? Are there any secret ways in?"

The guard froze. "I... I can't... they'll have me..."

Festonia pressed the dagger harder against his throat, just enough to draw a thin trickle of blood.

"There's a hole in the wall on the west side of the city! They just haven't found the time to patch it up! There are guards there sometimes! I told you everything, just let me go!"

"Good, no more questions. Thanks." With one light motion, she drew the dagger across the guard's throat and shoved him into the bushes. "Shitty, sis. Real shitty. We gotta move stealthily." She turned and headed toward the road, while convulsive rustling and gurgling came from the bushes.

Tomores followed after her.

"The western wall, then. Let's go."

Only two hours later, having waited for the right moment, the sisters found themselves inside the city and hunkered down in the shadows on the roof of one of the buildings. Before them lay the view of a large city, roughly the same size as the capital, Tontopi. Below, townsfolk walked the streets with baskets or empty-handed; in the distance, behind the buildings, the noise of trade could be heard, and in the center, the spires of the castle that previously belonged to Gobano could be seen.

Festonia sat on the roof tiles fanning herself with her hand, then took off her two still-bloody gloves. "It's getting hotter..." she muttered. "Alright, I think we need to get closer to the castle," she pointed a finger at the building. "There, we're more likely to find someone of higher standing who might know something."

Tomores shook her head. She pointed her finger at the sun, and then at the walls, where guards looking as small as ants could be seen; then her finger moved to a regular wooden watchtower among the simple houses.

Festonia rubbed her eyes. "Guktus take it all... sorry, sis, I'm probably rushing it too much. If we go jumping across rooftops in broad daylight, we'll stand out brighter than the sun itself." She crawled further back into the shadow, then her ear twitched. "Hide!" she hissed, and flattened herself behind the tiles of the adjacent house.

Tomores followed her and pressed her back against the wall.

Festonia cast a sidelong glance at her and opened her mouth slightly. "Idiot! Your tits are sticking out!"

Tomores flinched, but without hesitation turned around and pressed her face against the wall.

Festonia sighed. "You know, sometimes that's a real problem."

She only snorted.

Footsteps grew louder, and a guard appeared on the wall next to the building, lazily strolling along while looking down at the city and the roofs. The footsteps began to fade, and the man turned his head beyond the wall toward the plains.

Festonia carefully peeked out from behind the wall. "He's leaving," she whispered.

Tomores peeled herself off the wall and exhaled.

"No, sis, this won't work, it's too dangerous here. We gotta find a better place to hide." She carefully leaned over and looked down at the space between the wall and the buildings, where a small paved road ran, just wide enough for small carts. "Listen, sis, how about you go scout ahead?"

"M?"

"Find a place where we can wait out the day until night."

Tomores pointed a finger at Festonia and tilted her head to the side.

"I'm not going, you're easier to hide!" She flicked her red tail. "Now where am I supposed to hide this? My tail is visible even under a cloak with any careless movement!" She pointed a finger at Tomores. "And you don't have a tail, just ears; they're easy to hide under a hood! Get it?"

Tomores opened her mouth, then closed it. "Mhm," she let out quietly.

Ten minutes later, Tomores was already walking down the street in her black cloak, the hood pulled over her head. Sweat was already dripping down her

forehead from the heat, and the cloak only made it worse. But she quickly wiped

it away and kept walking.

Tomores walked like a tower in the middle of the street, catching the stares of passersby who craned their necks to get a good look at the tall woman.

By a smithy stood a bearded man, staring at Tomores. "Hah, look at that beanpole, looks like they overfed the lad as a kid."

His companion next to him wiped the sweat from his forehead with a rag. "You blind or something? That's a woman."

The bearded man blinked. "A woman?"

"Yeah, look at the chest on her. Can't be a man."

His jaw dropped. "Wow, with a height like that, she could snatch up any husband she wants, eh?"

The other blacksmith guffawed. "Haha, that's for sure!"

"Hah, what of it? A woman like that would be handy in the smithy."

"Pfft, then go on, offer her a job."

The bearded man waved his hand and headed back into the smithy. "Yeah, I'll pass."

Tomores kept walking down the street, examining the buildings.

On another street, further away from Tomores, walked a woman of about thirty, a beastkin with a fox tail and ears, dressed in a simple blue dress. In her hands she carried a basket of apples and a loaf of bread.

"I will ask you to stop." A muffled voice rang out from behind.

The woman froze, then turned her whole body, and upon seeing who was in front of her, her face paled slightly.

Before her stood two men in white faceless masks with slits for the eyes and mouth, bright blue doublets and pants with yellow patterns, white boots and gloves, swords adorned with silver on their belts, and on the forehead of the masks—a fire inside a circle, pierced by eight spikes.

The Dumetses.

"H-hello... h-how may I be of service?" she asked quietly.

The first Dumets pulled out a writing board with parchment and a quill.

The second folded his hands behind his back. "Your name and number, please."

"N-number?"

"Understood. Name?"

"Shalassa."

He nodded. "Where do you reside?"

The beastkin slowly pointed a finger at the neighboring street.

The Dumets with the quill looked in the indicated direction and wrote something down.

"Excellent. Please place the basket on the ground, and spread your arms and legs."

With a trembling hand, the woman placed the basket on the pavement and spread her arms to the sides.

The passersby around them quieted down, slowing their pace.

The Dumets crouched in front of the woman, reached out his hands, and patted her calves, moving higher to her thighs, and patted again.

He froze.

Patted again. "What is this here?"

"A k-knife."

"Take it out, please. Slowly."

The woman reached for her thigh with a trembling hand, and slowly, almost too slowly, pulled out an ordinary household knife.

"Thank you." The Dumets took the knife by the handle and began to examine it. "A utility knife, not a combat dagger. Traces of..." he looked closer. "No traces of blood. The blade is too dull."

The second Dumets actively wrote down everything said.

The first placed the knife on the ground and leaned over the basket, taking out the apples and bread.

Empty.

He put everything back and stood up. "Shalassa, are you a local?"

She nodded quickly.

"Have you noticed anything unusual? Any stranger beastkin who were not here before? Especially fox beastkin."

Shalassa swallowed and shook her head. "N-no, I have noticed nothing of the sort."

"What is your occupation? How old are you?"

"I am a weaver. I am... twenty-nine or thereabouts, I believe."

The scribe Dumets wrote this down as well.

The first Dumets nodded. "Understood." Suddenly, he pulled back his fist and, with incredible speed, aimed it straight at her stomach, stopping it a mere fraction of a second before impact.

Only a moment later, Shalassa squeaked, shrank her head into her shoulders, and covered herself, squeezing her eyes shut.

The Dumets lowered his fist. "No combat training; an ordinary civilian."

The scribe quickly wrote this down and set the parchment aside. "Your number is forty-six, memorize it firmly."

The woman blinked. "Forgive me... but what for?"

"When another patrol approaches to check you, state your number so as not to waste time; they will find it in the list, compare your features, and understand that you have already been checked," he said monotonously, as if for the hundredth time.

Shalassa nodded. "Y-yes, I understand... thank you."

"Have a good day," he said finally, and continued down the street, the scribe following him.

The woman remained in the middle of the street, breathing heavily, and stared at their backs for a few more seconds. Then she sighed, picked up her knife and basket, and went on her way.

Early September.

One of those days when the Antarctic weather system offered no visible hostility. Only stillness.

The Colonel and Kestner stood in the observation room opposite the main hall.

Upright, arms folded. Motionless in a way that felt deliberate.

"The Führer's mind," the SS officer said quietly, "is extraordinary. The structure inside it… unmatched. My only concern is physical endurance." He turned toward Kestner. "What is your assessment?"

He did not look away from the window.

Kestner answered after a short delay.

"By my examination, he remains severely weakened. The sulfonamides keep the tremors under control day to day, but the dependency itself has taken its toll—prolonged use, and the withdrawal periods between doses, have left measurable damage to the basal structures and a marked depletion of neurotransmitter reserves."

"How serious is it? Can it be reversed?" The Colonel frowned. "He seems sharper than he's been in months."

"Paralysis agitans doesn't reverse. Not with anything we have here." Kestner's answer left no room for hope. "The assassination attempt last year cost him part of his sight and hearing as well. Neither has fully returned." He paused, then shook his head slightly. "But you're right about the rest. His mind does seem… unusually alert. That part I can't explain."

The Colonel gave a short grunt, thinking something through.

"I have other concerns," Kestner said. "He may be guiding us toward a future that has no orientation."

The distant echo of the Führer's voice still carried through the hall beyond them, steady and uninterrupted.

"How could that be?" the Colonel replied. "He stands at the summit of accumulated human knowledge. No individual can replicate that path alone. Yet he resolves what centuries could not. Under such direction, outcome is not uncertain."

Kestner shifted slightly.

"Do you truly believe in National Socialism? Or in Liebenfels's Ariosophy—in all that racial mysticism?"

The Colonel's expression barely changed beneath the overhead light.

"That is not the relevant variable," he said, his voice flat. "History does not pause for belief. It moves. Individuals do not step outside it. We were assigned a function. Execution is sufficient."

For a while neither of them spoke. Somewhere deeper inside the base, machinery continued its low metallic vibration through the walls.

When Kestner finally spoke again, the question seemed to arrive from an entirely different conversation.

"Are you married?"

"No."

"Have you ever loved anyone?"

The Colonel slowly turned.

His eyes were steady, unreadable, fixed on the physiologist—the question might as well have been asked in a language he'd never learned.

At that same moment, in the main hall, the Führer stood with his back to them.

He was speaking without interruption.

His voice carried across the space—flat, continuous, almost administrative in tone despite the scale of what he was describing. He outlined, in exhaustive progression, the counteroffensive beyond 1960—military structures, political reorganization, economic systems, control of industry, mining networks, transportation corridors, tariff regimes, and raw material flows—every layer of it laid out as though it were an engineering problem already solved, not a future still to be built. Even the collapse of the superpowers had been factored in: logistics for the vacuum they would leave behind.

A complete takeover architecture.

Behind the assembled officers and SS personnel, Eva stood quietly.

She said nothing. Her face remained unreadable in the wavering firelight as she watched her husband's back—still, almost detached, as if the content of his words no longer required emotional response.

Kestner's voice entered the space calmly, running strangely parallel to the Führer's.

"Anyone who is human has emotions. Or has had them. Family. Friendship. Love. People they once cared for. Memories that remain, things that continue to touch them long after the moment is gone. Childhood impressions, adult attachments—none of that disappears completely. Even a war god would still retain a corner of softness somewhere."

He said without raising his voice, sounding almost like a man presenting an academic analysis at a colloquium.

"But this man…"

His phrasing balanced delicately between caution and directness.

"…may be the only man in history to wield absolute power while remaining completely ascetic in the Puritan sense. I don't believe he has ordinary private attachments. I don't even believe he cares in any real way about that Braun woman. Marriage, if it exists at all, may simply be a constructed mask of humanity. He doesn't feel like a man in the normal sense. Most autocrats either chase wealth or consume power through appetite. He doesn't. He only pursues an idea—only the construction of the world according to his will."

A small breath, then continuation, harder now.

"You could call him a saint—a man above base instincts. But his order is built on ambition and domination. Even the most monumental design is still built from cold granite, and war eventually reduces all of it to ruins."

He paused, something unreadable passing through his eyes.

"I believe his love for Germany is real," he continued, "but I also believe that when destruction comes—when everything collapses—his detachment will be just as real. The same detachment he showed in Berlin at the end."

For a moment he watched the Führer's profile in silence, the endless voice continuing to roll across the hall beneath the hard electric lights.

"Yes. He is intelligence pushed beyond human scale. But also extremity. Coldness without compensation. Killing without hesitation. Intent without limit."

The professor’s mouth tightened.

"I respect his discipline, his will, even his capability. But he contradicts something fundamental in human nature. And in declaring war on weakness and impurity, he is also declaring war on humanity itself."

The great hall seemed even darker now.

"If anything has been destroyed at the deepest level, it is not just politics. It is the traditional Christian sense of compassion that once shaped Germany. In the end, his empire will not become a future. It will become a nightmare. And all of us—including you, Colonel—will be part of its burial."

Silence followed his words.

Not immediate reaction. Just a stillness that thickened slightly there.

The Colonel did not interrupt while Kestner spoke.

Only when the last sentence settled did he respond.

"Professor," he said evenly, "I understand everything you have said. Fully. But I am not particularly concerned with it."

The distant sound of the Führer's voice still carried through the hall.

"What concerns me is only whether the Führer's body can endure the psychological workload ahead."

He tilted his head slightly, as if reconsidering Kestner's metaphor.

"You mentioned granite? Yes. Granite is beautiful. We must be as hard as granite. Otherwise the Führer's work collapses under its own weight."

Kestner stared at him, finding no words for a logic so dense. He exhaled once, and his attention shifted—drawn involuntarily to the main hall.

A new figure had entered.

-----------

For anyone who prefer to read ahead, the full version is available on Amazon KDP :-)

Obsidian Earth

First - Last- Next

Patreon - RR

---

I stayed for a few days, sleeping in Lina’s makeshift room in the back. It was cramped, but at least I didn’t have man-eating dire-rabbits to think of.

The little room smelled of various spices. The cot creaked every time I shifted, and the blanket was thin enough to qualify as a sheet instead. Still, it was dry, and it had a door. Can’t ask for more than that.

Surprisingly, Vaelith, our resident demon-princess, slept out under the moon and the stars, often with or near Madam Moolisa, who seemed to enjoy the company, having none of her old farmland friends around. More than once, I found the two of them lying in the grass behind the shop, Vaelith on her back with her horns catching moonlight, Madam Moolisa beside her chewing lazily.

One day, Lina sat me down. Near her, she had glass jars with some sort of clear liquid. Inside were various monster parts from the dire-rabbits I had slain. Teeth. Claws. Bits of tendon. The jars caught the afternoon light from the shop window, turning the preserved pieces into floating, disgusting horrors.

“Do you remember what I said?” she asked.

I shrugged.

“You’ve got to be… Remember? I said that I had a business proposition for you. Well—” She pushed one of the vials forward, and inside there were a few dire-rabbit teeth floating in the liquid “—this is it.”

“Teeth?” I asked. “Are you getting into dentistry?”

“No!” Lina replied, putting a hand to her chin. “Well, maybe that isn’t such a bad idea. Use monster teeth to—” She brushed the idea aside “—no, we aren’t talking about that. Monster parts are needed for quite a few classes. Armorsmiths, leatherworkers, tailors, fletchers, alchemists, and even farmers can use the parts in various ways. Bramblewick is expanding, and it has come to my attention that we have nobody who deals in said parts. It’s an open market! And so you and I are gonna make a killing.”

There was a certain look that Lina got in her eyes when she spoke of commerce. Something fierce and proud, and yet oddly tender. Like she cherished every moment.

“Seems simple enough,” I replied. “So you want me to go and hunt monsters and send back any unused parts?”

Lina snapped her fingers. “Precisely. I mean, I figure you’ll already be hunting monsters.”

“How will I get the parts back to you?”

“See, you’re definitely the right one for the job. You ask the right questions. If you remember, we spoke to a monster merchant. Well, I plied him for information, made some contacts, and now I’m introduced to a large network of transporters. You see, they can use mages to rip the fabric of space-time—well, the details don’t matter. Seek out any merchant’s guild in any major city, and they should have a contact with the Wayfarer’s Guild. I’ve already set up a barter and pay system with them. They will appraise and pay you for what they bring, take their cut, and transport the goods back to me to sell. Win-win for everyone.”

It made sense, and honestly, I’d be unlikely to find a better way of making coin. Yet, as with all things, one should not take the first offer and should take the time to reflect.

“It sounds good, Lina, but I don’t want to commit quite yet.”

Lina smiled. “I figured you wouldn’t. Take a day or two… but this is happening. I’d prefer with you, but I’ll settle for someone else. Maybe your demon friend?”

I smiled. “Oh, I’m quite sure she would love to hunt monsters for you. You’d have to become her servant, though. She seems only to care about doing great deeds and having people come to love her so she can make them her followers.”

Lina shrugged. “To each their own. We don’t choose the class we get. Only the gods do. Now, onto the next bit of business… What the hell!?” She slammed the counter with a smack!

Her sudden change in demeanor set me back and I nearly fell from my chair. “Wait… what happened? What did I do?”

“You made food for Vaelith before me?”

With all that had happened, I forgot that what I had originally made for Lina and me was stolen by Darwin.

“... Sorry?” I replied.

Lina slammed the table with her hands. The jars jumped, liquid sloshing around preserved rabbit teeth and claws. “Not good enough. You’re going to make me something before you leave Bramblewick for good. Now, show me your recipes.”

As she said, I pulled up the system and shared it with her. She scrolled and read through the information. I noticed that Dire-Rabbit Heart Skewers had leveled.

System

Dire-Rabbit Heart Skewers (Lvl 2)
Effect: For 2 hours, +8 DEX, +2 WIS, +8 HP/m, Rapid Recovery Rank 1, Jump height increased by 20%

“There!” she said. “I want that!”

She flipped the status screen toward me and pointed to one of my new recipes.

Stingtail Nettle Tea

Rarity: Common
Type: Monster

Description: A warming medicinal tea brewed from the venom barb of a stingtail. Frostmint cools the venom’s bite, bitterroot gives the infusion body, and honeycap nectar softens the harshness into a slow, strengthening heat. Often used by hunters and adventurers after venom or poison exposure.

Core Ingredient: Stingtail Venom Sac

Ingredients: Frostmint Leaves, Venom Reed, Honeycap Nectar

Effects: Unknown

“Before you leave, I want you to make me some tea at the very least. You owe me.”

… She had a point. I did owe her.

**\*

“And why am I helping you?” Vaelith asked.

“Because if you want me as a servant, you have to earn my loyalty.”

“Earn it?” she replied incredulously. “I saved your worthless human life.”

“Do you know where we can find any Stingtails?”

Vaelith put a hand to her chin. “Not a clue. Why?”

Luckily, in Bramblewick, the official Adventurer’s Guild had set up shop. It was little more than a shed, but they were doing constant work renovating. I hoped they could help.

“I suppose we’ll need to rely on the Adventurer’s Guild.”

“You want to register with the Adventurer’s Guild?” Vaelith asked, pointing back and forth between her and me. “Both of us?”

“Not register, just ask for directions.”

Vaelith scratched at the edge of one of her horns, consideringly. “You know, it isn’t a bad idea. If we register as a party, then our exploits will be recorded and told throughout the land.” She snapped her fingers. “Good work, servant. That’s using your head.”

“Master, not servant,” Darwin corrected.

My companion, new to life outside of a water bubble, still clung tightly to my clothes. Darwin had, however, figured out how to tongue-lash and fling himself from object to object like a grappling hook. Every so often he would snap his tongue to a shelf, post, or hanging sign and launch himself.

Wasting no more time, we walked through the town until we found the Adventurer’s Guild. It was a small building, and a few adventurers milled outside. They hadn’t even the luxury of a sign. The wood looked fresh in some places and weathered in others, as if the whole thing had been thrown together at a moment’s notice. Blackened hammer marks scarred the doorframe, and a stack of unused planks leaned against one wall.

I stepped inside.

There were a handful of people, most standing near a haphazard and leaning wooden board with various wanted bounties for monsters and criminals alike. The room smelled of old parchment and sweat. A few muddy footprints tracked across the floor. Somewhere near the back, someone had spilled ink and left it there until it formed an eerily void circle.

I walked over and began to look at the bounties when someone called.

“Hey, you lot. The one with the demon and the… whatever that is. I don’t recognize you. Come talk to me first.”

Turning, I walked over.

“‘The demon,’” Vaelith said, clearly annoyed. “That’s Princess Vaelith Noctara, third in line for the fifth seat of the Court of Nine Embers to you.”

“Apologies,” the man replied, fixing his crooked glasses, although he did not seem the leats bit sorry.

He had dark skin and dark hair and was a middle-aged human. Likely not much older than I was before I was reborn into a younger body. His desk was covered in loose papers and several dull pencils.

“I did not mean to offend you,” he continued. “I am told that I can be… blunt with my choice of words.”

Vaelith waved him off.

“I see you two looking at the bounties, but to accept and receive any pay, you need to be registered with the Adventurer’s Guild, and any parties you may or may not be a part of need to be listed as well.”

Vaelith smiled at me. “See, I told you it was a good idea.”

I rolled my eyes. “We are just looking for information,” I said.

The man fixed his glasses again. “Sorry, while our network of informants is deep, information is only for members… and it comes at a cost.”

“A cost?” I asked. “Why?”

“To pay the informants, of course.”

I went to protest, but it actually made sense.

“So… Do you two wish to register with the guild?”

Before I could reply, Vaelith slammed her hand on the counter. “Yes!” she announced. “As a party!”

“... And what is your party’s name?”

---

Note: Sorry, family trouble the last week.

PART ONE

Two dragons are captured and sent into orbit round the Earth.A little-known story about the 1960s space race, which has been kept secret because of the terrible consequences, still extant today.

Chapter One

1957

Somewhere faraway, well, from the West anyway, there is an island called Dragonscale.

The inhabitants of this paradise in the East (somewhere) were not humans at first, but, as the name suggests without a great deal of thought, a race of dragons, called the Firelizards.

It is commonly assumed that there aren’t any real dragons. Of course, they might have existed in a bygone era and become extinct, some might say, and the absence of any fossil evidence is not a conclusive proof that they didn’t, fossilisation being a rare occurrence.

It could, then, be speculated that it might be possible that there were such animals inhabiting this planet many eras ago, and following from that it is not a huge leap forward to consider that there might be a very isolated island where a race of such beasts survived and evolved.

In fact, contrary to widely accepted beliefs, the Firelizards were a known reality, and it was their isolation that kept them from wider knowledge of their existence.

There were reports as far back as the first Millennium about an island in the far East occupied by 'firedevils', as they were called. No attempt to visit the island was made on account of the expected dangers involved, however.

Now, the usual image of dragons is not a favourable one, involving belching huge bursts of flame, enough to outdo any flame throwing weapon devised for military purposes.

The Firelizards did not fit this description at all.

They were a happy peace-loving race which lived by a strict code of conduct, according to accounts from the few humans who visited the Island, as to be related later in this Chapter.

This could be summarised as follows:

1. Love your fellow dragon.
2. Behave towards your neighbouring dragon in a manner which you would wish them to act towards you.
3. Honour your mum and dad.
4. Only use your flame throwing abilities for peaceful purposes, and never in a way which could result in harm or distress to anything else, of whatever kind. It was explained that the flame-producing ability was given to them to enable them to set a pile of wood and sticks on fire to keep them warm in cold weather.

This was, therefore, a happy community, but there was a problem. There wasn't a lot to do on the island.

The most exciting event, which took place bi-annually, was the flame throwing competition, open to all comers.

The contestants were required to stand (front feet) a given distance from its target, which was of standard size and made of a suitably combustible material, and set it ablaze. Times were recorded for the target to be reduced to a pile of ashes. Points were also awarded for style of flame delivery, shape and width of flame cone.

This was just round One. The ten with the highest points then progressed to Round Two. The distance from the target was increased and the target made less combustible. The best five then went on to Round Three. After further changes in distance and constitution of target, we were left with the two finalists, and the winner received great acclaim.

Unfortunately, in the mid-1950s a passenger plane happened to pass over the island whilst this contest was in full swing, and even from its considerable height the flames were clearly visible and impressive. This was a significant contribution to the conviction amongst humans that these were dangerous animals.

There was also a sports day, the highlight of which was the Great Dragon Race. Details here are not outlined as the title is self-explanatory. The clear blue sea was also always an attraction, and the Firelizards were adept underwater swimmers.

Sadly, these diversions were not enough to satisfy the adventurous spirit of some of the younger dragons, and excursions to the mainland were not uncommon.

Here, of course, they encountered humans, who had rarely ventured onto Dragonscale, and those that did never came back. The visitors went with the intention of acquiring a nice dragon rug for their lounge, but in fact they had all decided to stay in this peaceful environment, and were happily tolerated by the Firelizards. On the mainland, though, the worst was assumed.

The incursion of these younger members of the race onto the mainland was a different matter. They never did any harm, abiding strictly to the rigid code of conduct deeply instilled into their psyche.

Unfortunately, the very sight of them scared the shit out of the locals, especially the very young, and the dragons were not treated kindly. Let us just say that none ever returned to their homeland, and dragon meat was not a rarity at the market stalls.

On the other hand, the younger generation on Dragonscale deduced that the immigrants were all having a fine time, and that this was the explanation for their continued absence, and so still they ventured into the unknown, in increasing numbers.

Over the years, plans for invasion were often raised, but it was not until the invention of protective fireproof clothing that such plans were to come to fruition.

In 1947, action to stop this inflow was deemed to be necessary, and a committee comprising 10 respected elders was formed to decide on the best policy.

That this took 10 years to publish its findings is perhaps not too surprising in view of the regular need to replace members who had died, or suffered from some debilitating illness. The new intake often had different viewpoints from their predecessors, and so it was one step forward and two back. Nevertheless, despite these major obstacles, a report was issued in mid-1957. Its recommendation can be condensed into one word:

Invade and Exterminate.

Sorry, that’s three.

Invasion

The absence of any signs of flame throwing activity by the immigrants on the mainland before being led to the slaughterhouses had not apparently been registered to any degree by the human inhabitants, because the army assembled for the task was fully equipped with the appropriate protective fire proof clothing.

As soon as they landed they set to work with their dart guns (their meat always tasted better when fresh), and the dragons dragged onto the ships. Some tried to flee but were easily outpaced by the military jeeps taken with them for just such an eventuality.

A few firelizards are thought to have fought back and overcome their peaceful natures and the surprise of the attack, but if any casualties were suffered by the invaders, details have not been released.

What about the few humans on the island? Well, they decided not to intervene, partly through cowardice, the army being armed with more lethal weapons than the darts, but also because of the thought that they would now have the island to themselves. A brief consideration would have sufficed to tell them that that wouldn’t be for long.

It is, though, to these human inhabitants of the island that we owe our knowledge of the dragon's life style, as outlined above. The description of the races and competitions seem authentic enough, but their assessment of the moral code of behaviour may be thought to be taking things too far, although these conclusions were the result of close observation of the animals over an extended period.

The existence of such a code of behaviour may or may not be valid, then, but there was no doubt in the minds of the human observers that this was a well-ordered society and with a complex form of communication.

It is sad to report that efforts by these human occupants of Dragonscale to stop the carnage, if there were indeed any made, fell on deaf ears. This would have unfortunate consequences.

The setting now moves to the other side of the globe.

Nasa

On the 3rd of November, 1957, the Soviet Union launched a space craft called Sputnik 2 (it being the second of its kind to be built, presumably). The important thing here is that it managed a low orbit around the earth, and inside it was a dog called Laika, who died a few hours into the flight. This nevertheless sent shock waves throughout America, and led the following year to the combining of the various related agencies in the U.S.A., and Nasa was formed.

The first meeting of the new organisation soon took place and a main item on the agenda was which animal could they stick in a craft and orbit the earth and outdo the Soviets. There were three main criteria.

1. It had to be BIGGER, a LOT bigger.
2. It had to be something which the American public would find acceptable, so, for example a bigger dog wasn’t an option.
3. It had to be returned to earth alive.

There was much head scratching, many proposals were put forward and rejected, and a gloomy silence was enveloping the room.

Then a young engineer spoke up.

"Have you read that news item about a race of dragons on some isolated island in the far east? Well, they have invaded it and captured the lot. They are destined for the dinner table, it seems, but they may not have eaten them all yet, and there might still be some awaiting their fate. If so, we could make them an offer and get them over here, and dragons in space would make good publicity and show the Soviets what’s what."

"You ARE talking about living dragons, I assume? I don’t think sending a dragon carcass into space would set the pulse racing."

"Yes, of course. They like their dragon meat fresh, so they are kept alive until their turn comes, at least as far as I understand it from the news clips I have seen."

"Right," said the Chairman, "get in touch with these people and find out if there are any living dragons left."

The difficulties in achieving contact having been overcome, it was discovered that there were just two left still alive. Having agreed on an exorbitant price, these last two Firelizards found themselves on a ship and heading for the U.S.A.

Firelizards hadn’t bothered to give themselves names, as they thought that this would be too pretentious, so their captors had to decide what to call them.

Again, outdoing the Soviets was a major concern. They were accordingly christened Lincoln and Roosevelt.

Nobody had as yet considered how they were going to fit a dragon, let alone two, into the available space crafts.

Chapter Two

The Ship

The two Firelizards were kept under heavy sedation during the long sea voyage, and so had no concept of where they were going, why they had not suffered yet the same fate as their fellow dragons, of which they were well aware, or what lay in store for them when they reached their destination, wherever that might be.

The crew having been warned by the mainland locals that they were dealing with very dangerous animals which could burn down their ship with one blast of fire, the sedation of the two dragons was not considered sufficient guard against this eventuality.

The technology by which the dragon produced its flames being a bit of a grey area, it was decided to cover their faces with fireproof masks. They wanted to keep them alive, though, so you will be pleased to learn that a few holes had been inserted.

The hold where the two former U. S. presidents’ namesakes were contained was lined with layers of fire proofing materials. Should one of them regain consciousness long enough to let forth its stream of fire, a further safeguard had been installed. The slightest wisp of smoke now automatically set forth a very efficient sprinkler system.

Although they were firmly locked inside their prison, it was further deemed necessary to have a guard armed to the proverbial teeth standing outside at the ready, 24/7.

You will not be surprised to learn that Lincoln and Roosevelt were in a pretty sorry and confused state when the ship finally arrived at Houston, Texas.

This would have been an appropriate point, perhaps, to instal a photo of a Firelizard to help the reader to visualise the scene.

In fact, although there was no shortage of media footage initially, these were legally banned after the ensuing events, to be related later, with draconian measures resulting from any violation. There may be some copies of film stored in an attic somewhere, and if anybody does have access to any images of Lincoln and Roosevelt (not the Presidents) please do send them, and they could be inserted here, the restrictions having been lifted in 2016.

Conference

Back at Nasa, a further conference was in progress, preceding many others which were to take place at different centres before launch.

The first and vital consideration was size of the animals c.f. size of capsule needed to accommodate them. The typical American space capsule at that time was about 11 feet tall and about 6 to 7 feet diameter. The dragons were of a smaller variety, being 7 feet in length.

"It’s going to be a bit of a squash squeezing the two inside," remarked the chairman, "considering that we have to leave room for all the electronics," he added.

"Why do we need to send both, anyway?" demanded the director of publicity.

"We think providing them with company would help considerably in avoiding any adverse psychological effects of the extended isolation in such a confined space, and also it doubles the chances of bringing one back to earth alive," replied the chairman.

"As far as fitting two into the capsule is concerned, I’ve been looking into this," the mission director told the assembly. "They will have to curl up a bit, but they should be reasonably comfortable."

"I must point out a few things," announced the director of animal welfare. "Firstly, and most obviously, we need to bring them back alive and in good condition. Two dead dragons in the recovered capsule won’t do our image any good, and the Soviets would be laughing their socks off. The best way to achieve this, in my humble opinion (she was a very modest lady) is to try to make them as happy as possible when they set off. They will, of course, need extensive pre-flight training to adapt to space conditions. They will need to get used to confinement in a small space like the capsule, trained to know how to accept the food provided, and acclimatised to gravity changes using a spinning centrifuge. At the moment, they must be desperately unhappy in their fireproof cages. If we don’t give them some more pleasant environment until the launch, and especially some adequate level of exercise, I wouldn’t bet on their survival till next week, let alone the launch date."

"We could build an enclosure with fireproof breeze blocks," suggested the chairman.

Which they did.

When completed, the dragons were led to this newly built enclosure, which had a concrete floor, and armed guards on patrol, wearing the usual protective clothing.

The effect on the well-being of the proposed future astronauts was precisely zero. The allocated space was barely enough to enable them to stretch their legs, and they both remembered the similarly clad and armed humans who had invaded their island paradise. The response was therefore not at all as had been hoped. Lincoln and Roosevelt just lay on the concrete, hardly moving, and just giving the occasional growl.

Dr. Annie Walker, the above-mentioned animal welfare director, was discussing this problem with the chairman, Mr. Arnold Webber and mission leader, Dr. William. J. Pyke.

"This just isn’t working," she exclaimed. "We need to provide more space for them, and I have been observing them closely, and interviewed all the guards on watch, and it is agreed that not once has either attempted to use their flame throwing ability to burn down the walls and escape."

"Well, that wouldn’t have achieved much anyway," remarked William.

"They wouldn’t know that," pointed out Annie. "I'm beginning to wonder just how dangerous these animals are. I also have an idea that they would be far happier if they had grass under their feet, say a large field, for example. Oh, and another thing, Roosevelt is female. I find it hard to believe that nobody noticed, although it must be admitted it isn’t all that obvious, if you see what I mean."

"I think that would be very risky," opined Arnold. "Suppose they escaped and created havoc, it would be a disaster, not just for this mission. It could put all our future ones in jeopardy. As for the name, what do you suggest we call him, sorry, her, then? Hilary?"

"I think we should leave things as they stand, they have shown reaction to their names, and I don’t think that Roosevelt will be offended. I don’t think either that escaping should be a worry, we could still have an extensive guard patrol, kept out of sight, and with orders to shoot to kill if necessary."

The three having reached agreement, an isolated field of considerable size was located and deemed ideal for the job.

Chapter Three

Training

Linc and Ros, now the commonly used truncated handle for the two dragons, were immediately much happier to be shown their new surroundings. Instead of their more or less motionless existence in the previous concreted enclosure, they now had grass, and most importantly, much more room. This enabled them to indulge in their favourite pastime, which was dragon racing, even if there was a rather limited supply of competitors. The guards were hidden well back out of sight, but humans often make the mistake of assuming that out of their sight automatically ensures that anything else would also be unable to see them, and Linc and Ros were well aware of their presence, their sense of smell having no problems in their detection and position.

The biggest problem with the training was the food. They had no idea as to their usual menu, and so it was a hit and miss affair. Eventually a gelatinous concoction was formulated which they both seemed to find acceptable, and which was thought to contain all the necessary ingredients to keep them healthy. They then had to be trained to use the feeding tubes which would be the source on the capsule. This presented further problems, it being very hard to explain to two reluctant Firelizards why they had to feed in this way, and why they had to shove the stuff provided down their throats in the first place.

The subjection to close quarter confinements for increasing times also caused adverse reactions in the pair, taking in the form that a human might refer to as sulking. After a while, they appeared to accept the ordeal without too much protest.

Perhaps surprisingly, the dragons found the Johnsville centrifuge terrific fun, and were often reluctant to get out.

One incident caused some considerable adjustment to the general attitude of their captors to the two trainees. Although the surrounding hedges had been lined with barbed wire to prevent access of other animals, inevitably, perhaps, a stray dog (not Laika) found its way through, and immediately issued a barrage of powerful barks, which left no doubt as to its disapproval of the occupants of the field. Consternation followed at the prospect of a charred pet or ashes thereof, and guards rushed in to prevent such a disaster, but were then amazed to find the dog happily romping around with the dragons, who made no attempt to deter the dog with a burst of flame or by any other means.

It was time for another conference. This involved the heads of every conceivable aspect concerning the mission, and each was asked to report in turn, giving their appraisal of the current status of their particular task force.

The electronics had been tested over and over again, and back-up systems installed. The food dispenser device was in full working order, and the animals were thought to be as ready as they ever would be. This reporting of confident readiness was only spoiled by the temperature control system for the capsule interior, which had a few glitches to be ironed out.

"That is a critical matter,” declared the chairman. “One of the big factors on putting one over the Soviets is to bring these animals back alive. We need maximum effort here, and I am now committing us to a launch date of March the 26th. Can you assure me that your problems with the heat control will be solved by then, with full confidence?"

"Yes, sir, that we can."

"March the 26th it is, then."

Launch

The launching site being Cape Canaveral, the astronauts now faced a tedious 1,000-mile trip to Florida, not something to put them in a good frame of mind, although they had three days to recoup prior to the launch.

The launch itself was unexceptional, running as smoothly as one could wish. The actual launch produced the expected awed reaction from the numerous onlookers who had travelled to see the spectacle, but what they really wanted was a glimpse of the two dragons. Nasa being well aware of the need for this publicity, Ros and Linc were led docilely in full view of the spectators and media, including live television. Their appearance certainly aroused some reaction from the crowds, and the ascent of the lizards into the capsule was accompanied by a storm of clapping and cheering.

This happy mood was not shared by Linc and Ros, who were beginning to think that they had been subjected to a rather dirty trick.

It should be explained that this journey towards the capsule had been rehearsed several times over the last two days, in secret, of course. The dragons had been led across the tarmac and strapped down in the capsule, left for a few minutes, then released and taken back to their enclosure.

The success of this strategy was confirmed by Ros’ and Linc’s unresisting procession towards the capsule, and the strapping down inside it, it having being hoped that they would assume that this would just be another exercise like the previous, and that they would expect release after a short time.

The launch itself having been successful, the mission controllers breathed a sigh of relief, and there were congratulations all round concerning the extensive coverage and interest in the media.

Chapter Four

Communications

As far as is known, and who knows how far that it is, the human race is the only species with the ability to communicate by what we call speech, although this is being rapidly superseded by the use of the thumbs.

Nevertheless, it is evident that other species do so by various means. Even plants and trees communicate by sending chemicals through the air, as a warning to their neighbours of the presence of a leaf-eating visitor, for example. The adjacent trees can then produce a deterrent chemical in defence. This is a fascinating subject and it is necessary to delve into it in more detail as it has bearing on the story to come.

Think of the wood-pigeon, not everyone's favourite bird, it must be confessed, but it has interest. Consider the implications of their monotonous 4-note cooing. Some places might be lucky enough to enjoy wood-pigeons which have calls stretching to 5, or even more notes, perhaps.

Now, on first consideration, you might conclude that these 4 notes are just to inform another pigeon or pigeons where they are. So, their conversation could be transcribed thus:

"Morning, I’m over here."

"Well, I’M over here."

Another pigeon: "Can I join you?"

"I’m over here now."

"I’ll call you later, then."

Yet another pigeon: "I’m here and I’m not going anywhere."

On the other hand, a careful listen reveals some subtle variations in pitch, exact length of notes, volume differences, and so on. Their conversation might then stretch to the following:

"Keep a watch out, there’s a sparrow hawk around. Poor Billie is now just a ring of feathers on the lawn. What are your plans for today?"

Well, perhaps that’s stretching things a bit.

More seriously, there are certainly other species with complex communication systems, such as the Orcas, for example.

We now turn to the Firelizards.

At the time of the space adventure, it had already been noticed that they could produce a wide range of sounds, some resembling a high pitch whistle even, others a deep growl. It had also been observed that Linc and Ros did seem to be ‘talking’ to each other using these different tones. No success resulted from attempts to try to interpret them, however.

Now, it so happens that in order to help monitor the health and condition of our unwilling astronauts, a sound system was installed in the capsule, and a recording of every sound issuing from Linc and Ros during the orbit was made. In view of later events, like the other media restrictions, these tapes were not made public, and gathered dust in the Nasa archives, where they were discovered in 2024.

In view of the advances in computer technology over the past 70 years, it was decided to attempt an analysis of the various noises in the capsule on these tapes, in the hope that some idea of the meaning of the 'conversations might result.

The conclusions that it reached have just been published, and the astonishment they have induced everywhere can be well understood, because the computers produced what amounts to a transcript of the sounds of the dragons converted into the English language. Translations into other languages are available on request and filling in the necessary forms.

It was even possible to distinguish the individual dragon ‘speaking’, because of the somewhat higher pitch of Ros’ noises, the position in the capsule enabling identification of ‘speaker’ from the direction as picked up by the microphone array, and often by the simple deductions made from the conversation content. It should also be pointed out here that many days of the orbit were without any ‘conversation’ at all.

Reproduced below is the exact transcript.

Day 1, just after launch:

Linc: "++++ this for a game of soldiers."

The actual translation here might be deemed to be too unseemly to publish on the hallowed pages of Reddit, so it has been left to the reader to insert a word of their choice at the start of this utterance.

Ros: "I don’t mind a joke, but ++++ a pantomime. I think we’ve been had. All those trips over the last two days back and forth to the capsule, and locking us inside for a few minutes, that was just to make sure that we thought this was just the same, but I did wonder about all the crowds cheering their heads off, and thought that there was something fishy going on."

Linc: "You weren’t wrong there."

Again, it has been left to the reader to fill in the blanks.

Day 2: No translatable conversation.

Day 3

Linc: "I’m getting a bit pissed off, just lying here."

Ros: "Tell me about it, I have an itchy tail and I can’t scratch it, they’ve got us tied down so that we can hardly move, and the smell in this thing is starting to get a bit iffy, are you pulling the disposal lever when you’ve had to go?"

Linc: "Disposal lever?"

Ros: "Oh, my God, you mean we’ve been out here for three days and you haven’t used it once? No wonder the air here could hardly be described as rose-like."

Again, it must be stressed that these are the exact words of the computer analysis.

Linc: "Oh, you mean this stick thing by my foot, I’ll give it a shove--"

Ros: "No, no, don’t touch that…."

At this point, the instrumental records coincide with this unfinished sentence from Ros by the indication of a violent rotation and shaking of the capsule, lasting a full 35 seconds.

Linc: "Not that one, then?"

Ros: "Bloody hell, it isn’t enough that they lock me up in this thing and treat me like ++++, but I have to put up with a blithering idiot for company. Have you forgotten everything you were taught in those lessons we had to attend where they showed us what was what?"

Linc: "I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep at that bit. He did have an incredibly boring voice, all on one monotonous tone, even less melodious than a wood-pigeon, and that’s saying something. Which lever do I have to pull, then?"

Ros, with a sigh: "By your front foot, you can’t mistake it, it is painted bright red and has an icon by it indicating ‘flush’."

Linc: "Ah, yes, I see it, I thought it meant eject in an emergency."

Ros: "Well, you could say that given the stink in here. Now, can you please give it a push?"

Linc does as she asks apparently, because the noise recorded here is compatible with the exit of three day’s waste disposal from a Firelizard.

Ros: "Well, that should at least make it slightly more bearable in here, and if you thought it was an ejection lever for us in an emergency, what good did you think it would have done us to be thrown into space and probably go into orbit ourselves? We wouldn’t last long out there, where there is a distinct shortage of grass, I’d say."

Linc seems to have gone into a sulk then, as no more exchanges were decoded that day.

Indeed, this show of petulance seems to have lasted until day six, the intervening three days picking up not the slightest hint of any further chit-chat.

Day 6

Linc breaks his silence.

"How much longer are we going to have to stay in this thing? Are they going to leave us here forever?"

Ros: "I have no idea, but I can’t see the point in sending us orbiting the earth for eternity, they must want to bring us back down at some point."

Linc: "I’ll probably be dead by then, my back is killing me and my pulse rate is through the roof."

Ros: "That goes for me, too. It is quite nice, though, looking through the window they kindly provided for us to be able to view the cosmos."

Linc: "I agree, that blue round thing is quite pretty."

Ros: "That’s the earth, dumbo. It’s where we came from. In fact, next time you see it, look out for a big blue patch with a tiny oval-shaped spot on it. That’s Dragonscale."

Linc: "Really! You mean we were down there and now we are way up here?"

Ros: "Got it in one."

Chapter Five

More meetings

Meanwhile back at Houston, progress was being assessed. Arnold, William and Annie were in deep conference.

"How’s it going, then," asked Arnold.

"Very well, so far," replied William, "although we were starting to get concerned after three days when the instruments gave no indication that Linc had pulled his lever to eject his outputs."

"You mean piss and shit, then?" offered Annie.

"Well, I was just being polite in the presence of a lady. Anyway, it seems that he did so and hopefully the prospect of a capsule filled to the brim with noxious fumes seems to have been avoided, although there was a moment of panic when he seems to have given the capsule rotation lever a hefty kick."

"I find that a bit worrying. Didn’t we show them in the lessons we gave them which lever to pull?" asked the chairman.

"We did, indeed, but it has to be admitted that Dr. Bishop has a rather boring speech delivery, enough to put even the most alert of dragons into a deep sleep," Annie responded.

"Let’s hope that Linc remembers to exit his waste from now on. How about the general health of the dragons?" asked Arnold.

"Their medical condition as indicated by the electronics attached at various points along their bodies seems to be holding up well to the stress. There is a slight worry over pulse rates, though, as both dragons show a consistent and significant increase there," William stated.

"Is it thought that this might be life-threatening, then? We must avoid at all costs having two dragon corpses in the capsule when we fish it out of the sea."

"We just don’t know," replied Annie, "we have no idea as to what point an elevated pulse rate in a dragon should be the signal to bring out the red flag."

"You mean we don’t know when we should get worried, then?" Arnold sarcastically remarked.

"There is one very interesting aspect emerging from the microphone outputs," said Annie. "It is hard given the alternation of the noises from one to the other to avoid the conclusion that they are engaging in conversation of some sort. If so, we have no idea as to what they are communicating, of course. I think we made the correct decision about the absence of fire-retardant face masks. They are intelligent enough, I think, to know that if they set the capsule ablaze they would be in deep shit," she concluded.

"I take it that that there are no problems as far as the capsule and instrumentation are concerned?" demanded Arnold.

"No, none at all, so far we could not have wished for a smoother mission," William re-assured him.

Silence

Day 7: No identifiable interchanges or remarks from either dragon.

Day 8: No identifiable interchanges or remarks from either dragon. Annie was now starting to get a bit worried about her pets.

"We have heard no trace of any kind of sounds from either Linc or Ros for three days now. I am starting to get a bit concerned," she remarked to Arnold.

This is of course not at the same meeting as the one described above, as we are now in day 9.

"The instruments all indicate no cause for concern and their pulse rate has dropped a bit as well," William informed them.

"I am mainly concerned about the psychological aspects of the mission, and how it might effect their behaviour after recovery," exclaimed Annie.

"What ARE we going to do with them, anyway? Perhaps we should give that some thought, don’t you think?" the chairman considered.

"I assumed that we were just going to do away with them, humanely, of course," William thought.

"That would cause outrage, the American public wouldn’t like that at all, I don’t think." declared Arnold. "How about a zoo, there might be some interest there. Annie, can you make some enquiries about that possibility, please?"

"Yes, of course, Arnold, that seems like a good idea," replied Annie.

Day 10

Firelizard deductions

Things suddenly start to liven up inside the capsule.

Linc starts things off, exclaiming suddenly, "Why are they doing this, that’s what I’d like to know, I mean, if I knew what the object of sending us in orbit around the earth was, then it would make it easier to bear the discomfort, and this gelatinous stuff they feed us is not doing my insides any good, either."

Ros: "Well, make sure you keep on pushing that lever, as you say, it’s hard enough to bear all this as it is. I keep on thinking of that day they invaded, with those weapons that sent us all to sleep in seconds, and then they took us to the mainland and killed us all off."

Linc: "I’ve been thinking about that, too. The thing that I can’t understand is why they killed us off in batches, and kept you alive until your turn came. Why didn’t they just kill us all straight away?"

Ros: "I think I know the answer to that one, but I don’t think I should tell you, you won’t like it."

Linc: "Oh, come on, I’d really like to know, I have been trying to figure it out for the last two days, and it’s driving me crazy."

Ros: "Well, O. K., but you really aren’t going to like it, so promise me that you will keep calm. If you get into one of your tantrums you might shake this thing into pieces. That might not be a bad idea, on second thoughts.

Anyway, if you must know, and remember that this is just my interpretation, there might be a different explanation altogether--"

Linc: "Oh, for heaven’s sake, get on with it and tell me the worst. I can take it."

Ros: "All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. The reason that they kept us alive until they killed us off was that they like their dragon meat to be fresh before cooking."

Linc: "You mean, YOU MEAN!!!, THEY EAT US!!!"

Ros: "Steady, keep calm, getting wound up won’t help things at all."

Day 11

Linc has calmed down, a bit. He puts a question to Ros about another matter which has been causing him sleepless nights.

"Have you any ideas as to the reasons why we have been sent spinning round the earth?"

Ros did.

"I have come up with one possible explanation. I stress, it is only a pretty wild theory, and I find it hard to believe it myself, but I noticed that they were putting humans into those spinning things down there, and my idea derives from that, as it might fit in with the existence of a project of which the objective is to land a human on the moon."

Linc: "Why on earth would they want to do THAT?"

Ros: "A very good question. Because it’s there, I suppose."

Linc: "That seems a bit unlikely that they would go to all this trouble just to land on the moon. What use would that be?"

Ros: “They might eventually develop weapons which could travel from the moon to the earth and destroy your enemies.”

Linc: "Well, I could believe that bit, quite easily, but I still don’t see why they have used us on this trip."

Ros: "I think this is just a part of the programme building up to the moon landing. As to why they needed to shove US in this space from hell I have no idea."

First/Previous/Next

Content Warning: Girl on girl Smooching (If you have read these series, this should be ZERO surprise)

October 28: Unexpected house call

My phone vibrates and a message pops up. Checking it, my heart jumps a bit. It’s from Connie. “Hey, missed you at the CaFae. You drop a bomb at the place and vanish before I can show up? Evil! Call or text me about it.”

I chuckle. You know, I want to talk to her. I start a FaceTime. Her beautiful face pops up almost immediately. “Well, you do know how to make up for stuff, give you that. That was like 15 seconds.”

“I missed your gorgeous face all day. Also, I worried you enough last night.” No lies.

She shakes her head. “Just strange for you to be sleeping that early. You had what, six hours last night?”

I nod. “Almost seven.”

She gives me her shocked face. I nod.

“When was the last time you slept more than four?”

I think back. I realize I know the answer. “I was still alive.”

Her scowl is something. “You are alive. Just not exactly mortal, dear.”

I roll my eyes. “We both know what I meant.”

She nods. “Do you know why? What made you fall asleep like that?”

I chuckle. “Tired from work and content from texting you. I remember feeling so really relaxed. Haven’t been relaxed aside from some amazing post sex cuddling in ages. No sex and yet I was at peace.”

“So, you’re content?”

Yeah. I am. I really am. For the first time in millennia, I’m in a good place where I don’t feel I need to push to the next hustle or scheme for power. “I have you and Ms. Wallace to thank for that. And Jackie. Can’t forget her.”

She winks. “Who can?”

We both giggle.

“She still in a mood?”

Connie nods. She’ll get over it. Sucks having morning sickness the entire pregnancy like this. Work sucks. That reminds me…

“Okay, so yea I gave my notice. I got an offer for a full time employment at the firm as an admin assistant, maybe paralegal? Mr. Frederick’s said we were doing lunch with clients and we took Gretchen with us.”

“You took the Iron Lady with you to see a client?”

“Yep. She and I had an interaction on the way in this morning where I asked if the firm had just not met a good Smith and she almost broke her façade. Told me I reminded her of a client. THE CLIENT WAS MS. WALLACE!”

Connie starts laughing. Her joy is infectious and I want to hold her. Ugh. I continue with this story, “So we go meet the clients and they are Titania, Mab, and Ms. Wallace.”

Connie looks at me. “The fates were playing favorites today.”

I nod. “Inorite?!?!”

She chuckles, “Go on, honey.”

“So I got ahead of myself. We get in the car and they make me the offer for full time. They want me to work with the first partner they can free up since Mr. Fredericks says I’ve been so great with him. I don’t think I have been super…”

She cuts me off. “Mona, Lemar and my Lady have both told me you’re the only employee that ever beat Jackie for metrics. She always made people smile and is a hell of a project manager from what I’m told. You still beat Dis, which is incredible considering she works a good 8 hours more and on better shifts than you.”

“Okay, so I keep a level of professionalism that is good.”

“Mona…”

“I’m not insulting myself and I won’t give myself three compliments because I’m not being egotistical. Just let this be, my love.”

“Okay. Also, that is a first.”

“Yea well, I don’t fall in love often. You make it easy.”

“God damn that was fucking romantic and you are an asshole for being so far away.”

“15 minutes by wing.”

I hear someone in the background. “I can get her here faster if you want.” I think that was Ms. Wallace.

Connie gives me a look. I think it over. Then I remember something. “Wait. Isn’t tonight your date night with her?” She nods at me.

“You better get off the phone with me. You have a commitment. Why did you suggest this?” I’m suddenly hurting. She shouldn’t be giving up time with Ms. Wallace for me.

I see Ms. Wallace appear in my doorway. She walks up and crushes me in a hug. “Hey, you, I kinda caused this. Said I saw you. Don’t get upset with her. Do you want to come over? We will still do our date and we both want to do it hanging with you for at least a little while.”

I mull it over. I really do want to be with them for a little bit. I nod. She holds me in a hug that is so very warm and now we’re in her home.

“Mona!” Connie nearly tackles me.

“Hey lover.” I look from her to Ms. Wallace. Both smile.

“My Lady told me a little about the lunch. She said when she cracked a joke about finding a Smith Gretchen looked at you and nearly fell over laughing.”

I nod. “Crazy how some minds think alike.”

Ms. Wallace kisses me on the cheek. “Look at her. Can’t say great minds think alike…”

She...she kissed me on the cheek. Oh, wow. It isn’t about a blessing or to make me feel better. She kissed me because she wanted to!

I smile at her. “Because the entirety of that little idiom is ‘Great minds think alike and fools rarely differ,’ so yeah.”

She gives me a look. “Aaaaaand that goes into the witty retort memory bank.”

I look at Connie and resume my story. “I then find out Mr. Frederick’s is a regular and he was told to look at a specific agency for the best talent, by Maybelle. Mab had told me to try the agency four months before. Remember when I finished that part-time admin assistant job after three months that got me depressed? I got a letter of recommendation and a comment by their HR that the hiring freeze was the only reason why they didn’t scoop me up. I’m at the law firm since they asked for the best…”

“Least she can admit to that.” Ms. Wallace snickers at me.

My eyeroll comes unbidden, “Hey, I’m the best in specialist fields.”

Connie blushes. “I’ll say…”

Ms. Wallace gets a shocked face. “Connie!!”

Connie just continues swallowing the foot she put in her mouth. “Patricia, my Lady, my darling, I love you, you’re fucking amazing. I’ll point out she spent over a decade learning and refining how to perform 10 different alphabets with her tongue…”

I never should have told her about how long it took to do that. I do not regret showing her that trick. Oh no, she better not mention…

“And she can lick both her eyebrows at once with a forked tongue.”

There it is…

“She’s still technically an employee.” A sigh?!

Ms. Wallace!!?? WHAT?!

“My Lady, you’re so mean to her. Couldn’t you bend a rule just a little?” Is Connie trying to get a threesome tonight?!

She looks sad. “I live by my rules.”

Wut?!

“But that isn’t a rule you made for everyone, just one placed on you from on high.”

“Connie…”

I look at these gorgeous women and laugh. It starts small at first. Then it grows. They start staring and that just makes it funnier. I keep laughing and laughing and eventually I am cross legged on the floor, tears streaming out of my face laughing and they’re both holding me. I stop after a bit. Yep, I still have problems with intense emotions. At least it is close to correct now.

“You two are fucking amazing. Ms. Wallace, can you take me to my apartment in a minute?”

She nods. She looks worried. I stand up and take a deep breath. “I have interrupted you two long enough. Connie, the rest of the night after she gets back is for you and Ms. Wallace, got me?”

She nods. She still looks worried.

I pull together all my emotions for this nymph. The passion, the love, the need, the lust, and the joy and I feel it condense in my lips. And old trick, one I greatly like. One of the ones I can perform more easily now. I then give her a kiss that has all of it built in. We finish and she sighs. I wink at her. “Love ya. I‘m ready, Ms. Wallace.”

Arms fold around me from behind in gold. She is starting to surround herself in things that aren’t wolfram now. I like the gold. She winks at me and then we are at my apartment. I look at her beautiful face on my shoulder. I put my hand on her arm to keep her there, though she hasn’t moved to let go. “Before you go I want to say something to you.”

She leans into the embrace and her head still rests on my shoulder. “Sure.”

“Ms. Wallace, as you know I’m leaving the CaFae. I’m moving forward like an amazing friend told me. I’m not quitting to be with someone. I’m quitting to be a better me.”

“I don’t date quitters.”

She then leans in and kisses my cheek, “Good thing you aren’t one.”

She got it. She remembers the day I have etched in my mind and heart. A person that can dominate me because it feels right. I threw myself at her and she told me no. She told me if I quit she would never date me. She told me to better myself and find myself. And I have.

I sigh. I’m so happy she gets me.

She then spins me around.

“No witnesses. Also, we are NOT dating…” That smile?

WHAT?!

She cups my chin, pulls me up so our lips can meet and I get a kiss I have dreamed of since we met. Tender, passionate, loving. I nearly melt into these lips.

WHAT?!?!??

“Sorry, I can wait a couple of weeks now that I finally got that.”

I nod. “We do have a lot to talk about, Ms. Wallace, um Patricia? No. It still doesn’t sound right. I believe I will have to get permission from the other people in your family and such.”

Her Spock eyebrow goes up. “You have dated every one of them but me. I’ll smack any that says no.”

I shrug. “I won’t exactly say dated on Cindy and Ricardo. That was and still is occasionally all about sex”

I get flicked on the forehead. “My point stands. Love you.” She touches my cheek. “Later.”

LOVE YOU?!?!?!?! LOVE???!! She loves me???!! LIKE, LOVE LOVE?!?! NOT LIKE FRIEND, RIGHT?! OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!!!

She must hear that. Shit. I broadcast my feelings. She hesitates for a second. “Fuck it. Better not leave doubt.”

Our first kiss was a pure and beautiful thing. Our second kiss is a hunger that almost devours both of us. My hand scratches her back with nails infused with all the emotions I feel. She loses herself a bit at that. At one point my hand is in her shorts and on that perfect ass and hers in my shirt playing with my piercings. We break it off with her finally coming to her senses. “Yeah, I can wait 2 weeks. Okay, a week? At least a weekend…. 15 minutes? NO! I have a date...Poor Connie, I’m going to break her tonight. I gotta go.”

And she vanishes. I slump down to the floor against the wall she had me pinned to.

2 weeks?

2 weeks!!!

I’m going to break at least two toys in the next 2 hours… how do I survive two weeks?!

First/Previous/Next

 

“Somewhere is not always a place, and time does not pass everywhere.”

SolDiri maxim

[First] | [Previous] | [Cover Art]

| Banko Medical Facility, Banko, JSOC World. Location – REDACTED |

As they followed the ambulance to the medical facility, the HI dug deeper into Chen’s computer, specifically his search history. Chen had been accessing information about Motes and Shadows. Not that there was a lot, but he had looked repeatedly and not in any of the old, ancient histories he had access to, but in contemporary notes or incidents.

The things he spent the most time viewing concerned reports where Motes and Shadows had come into proximity. They consistently described the interaction as one of attraction and quiet interest. 

The HI looked back over Feebee’s recent memories, to times when StillFall had been close to Motes. StillFall seemed to behave differently when they were close.

Feebee recognised the events the HI had found; they matched what she had seen. So he’d been looking at the same thing.

“‘Curious.’”

When they arrived at the hospital, they followed Bikky’s gurney to the ED and watched as he was tended to and stitched up. 

“Tom Tom. Check access points. I don’t want another bunch of surfers coming in here and doing more damage.”

“Ack,” said Tom Tom.

“I’ll check out front,” said Garaf. 

The Lawyer stayed with Feebee, occasionally glancing at the Contrabass, which she felt was watching her.

“He’ll be Ok.” She said, nodding towards Bikky.

“Yes. I know. We needed to change the shape of operations. They had us penned in there. Coming here was the least expected outcome of the attack.”

The Lawyer smiled, understanding. 

“Nice.”

 

They followed him to a recovery room. Garaf covered the door; his towering height and formidable presence kept the medical staff and prying eyes at bay.

“Can we go? I don’t like hospitals.”

“Soon.” Was all Feebee said.

Bikky was sitting up; the stitches and dressing were doing their job. The cut had been superficial. A professional job. Bloody and needing attention, but not dangerous.

“‘I’ve got the footage of the car journey.’”

‘“Oh. Ok. Good. Show it,’” responded Feebee.

“‘Ack. I’ll share it with the others.’”

As they watched, Chen got into the black limo. He waved as it pulled away. 

‘“No driver, just a dumb AI,’” said the HI.

“‘Wow. That’s a bit AI-ist, isn’t it?’”

“‘Oh, and now you disown me.’” The jibe was received along with scratchy laughter.

The view then cut to the drone flying overwatch. The car pulled out into a stream of light traffic. Nothing unusual there. It moved along in the middle lane of the three-lane highway and stayed there. No vehicle behind or following; no interception. Again, all normal.

Feebee agreed as the car was found to be empty. 

“All very normal.” Said Tom Tom. 

“Yes.” 

“‘Anything?’” Feebee asked. “‘Have you run it through StabSys?’”

“‘I’ll do it now.”’

Feebee waited, absently playing with Hissy's valve buttons.

“‘I ran it through twice. There’s nothing.’” Said the HI.

“‘We’re missing something. Has Rockson looked at it?’”

“‘No.”’ The HI sounded genuinely offended but shared it with him.

As they waited, Feebee watched the feed again. 

“‘Did you check the presentation timestamps between frames? Do they all match?’”

“‘Yes. One frame dropped out, but that would have only covered 0.017 of a second. Chen couldn’t have got out of the car in that time.’”

“‘Oh. Ok. Good.’” Then Feebee added, “‘Let Rockson know anyway.”’

“‘Ack’”

Rockson got back quickly.

“I’m worried about that missing frame.” He said.

“But it’s only 0.017 of a second. Chen couldn’t have been snatched from the car in that time.”

“Correct,” Rockson said. “But I ran the feed, its metadata and additional sensor data through StabSys. There was a brief harmonic disturbance. Very brief.”

“And?”

“The analysis threw up a strange message.”

Rockson shared it.

> Unexpected Harmonic Variance

> Source: External

> Reference: Chen

> Pathway: [&non-baryonic&]

“What does [&non-baryonic&] mean?” asked Bikky, spelling it out slowly.

“Not sure, never seen that before. But in this context, it probably means the path to the source doesn’t exist within normal baryonic space.”

“Probably?”

“Yeah. Currently, the StabSys analysis module can only operate in normal space or when we travel across the jump substrate. My best guess is that it’s a coding error, but I can’t find the bug; neither can the HI.” Said Rockson.

“What's the next best guess?” Asked Tom Tom.

Rockson laughed. “Next best? The source of the variance is outside our space-time.”

“I like the first explanation.” Said Bikky, looking at Feebee.

“Me too.” She said.

Then the HI shared a secondary image, side-on of the limo passing. Chen was in the car, then he was missing. The HI overlaid the drone footage. The car had carried on as normal. Nothing out of the ordinary, except when the image was slowed down, the glitch caused by the missing frame.

The HI tried to isolate the frame. It wasn’t blank. It was missing. The timestamps skipped across those 0.017 seconds as if they weren’t there.

 

A cold shiver went through Feebee; Bikky saw it.

“What?” He asked.

She shook her head. Bikky gently laid a hand across her shoulder as she sat by the bed. Careful not to knock the stitches across his midriff.

“‘What was Chen looking into before the retirement ceremony?’”

“‘As I said, Motes and Shadows. Trying to understand.’”

“‘Specifically?”’

“‘Specifically, how they interacted and what that meant. They seem more comfortable around you, especially when you play Hissy.”’

Feebee thought on that. “‘Yes. They do.’” 

Rockson called Feebee.

“One of Chen’s other systems just came online.”

The HI immediately spoke, “‘Wasn’t me.’” It said, all defensive.

“Who then?”

“Don’t know.” Said Rockson. “But it’s accessed the same hidden files we just did.”  

Rockson pulled the power from the system. Brutally shutting it down and immediately cutting external access. 

The connection with Rockson dropped out and then re-established.

“What was that?” asked Feebee.

“‘Loss of comms.’” Responded the HI.

“‘Caused by?’”

“‘I don’t know.’”

***

| …………….  |

NOWHERE… NOWHEN…

Chen had no idea how long he had been there, and that was a problem. In fact, the real problem was that there was no long. No short. No before. No after. Nowhen.

He was aware. He laughed because he knew that.

That he was aware. And he laughed. 

Which had come first? 

He was confused.

And that was the second problem.

He could think, and he could remember that he had thought and what he had thought. He could even move, take steps, although movement seemed to have little meaning here. 

Forward, back, side to side were all the same. Arriving and leaving from the same point and at the same time.

There was nowhere to move because there was no ground beneath his feet, but he walked and took steps. 

No sky. No light or dark. Just existence without context. 

But context with memory. 

He remembered the car; he’d been sitting in it and had reached for the whiskey in the door.

Then…

Nothing. 

Not an interruption; that implied a reference in time. It was more a missed step, a missing relationship; as if someone had disconnected one moment from the next.

He shouted.

Screamed.

He heard the sound, but it didn’t travel anywhere. 

It just existed in the space around him. Nowhere. 

And last for… he laughed.

But something had heard his call and blinked into being beside him.

StillFall.

Chen stared at the Shadow. Or perhaps StillFall was staring at him. It was difficult to tell. 

It was a Shadow after all.

“You’re late,” Chen said.

StillFall considered this. “Time is unavailable.”

Chen laughed. 

It was the first thing that felt normal. 

It felt good.

“Fair enough.”

StillFall moved closer.

“Chen.”

“Yes?”

“You’re alive.”

Chen laughed again. 

“Yeh. I’d worked that out.”

The Shadow circled.

“You cannot return.”

“That I’d also worked out.”

StillFall tilted slightly.

“Feebee is looking.”

Chen was silent for a moment.

“Is she safe?”

“Yes.” Responded the Shadow.

“And the others?”

“Yes.”

Chen nodded; that was enough. 

For now. Although now had no reference.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

StillFall seemed to consider the question.

“Walking…Taking steps… and stuff”, answered the Shadow.

“Here?”

“Yes.”

Chen looked around the impossible emptiness.

“There’s nowhere to walk.”

StillFall moved away. “There is always somewhere; you just have to take the right steps.”

Chen watched the Shadow disappear into the absence.

Then, for the first time since he had arrived, Chen noticed something.

A faint vibration. It wasn’t a sound; there were no harmonics. 

It wasn’t movement.

It was a relationship. Something re-established. Somewhere beyond the nowhere, something was looking for him.

Chen smiled.

“About time.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Don't miss the Interlude (Chap259) posted at same time.

[First] | [Previous] | [Cover Art]

Summary Report - The SolDiri and Their Attempt at Ascension.

“Among equals, NO is a boundary.”

unattributed.

[First] | [Previous] | [Cover Art] | [Next]

[NOTE: What follows is the Executive Summary of a report. The HI was never sure who had commissioned it or what the full distribution list was.]

Distribution: REDACTED

There had been no beginning.

That would have required time to exist.

And that was the first of many things the old records got wrong.

They described Ascension as though one thing had happened, followed by another and another. A sequence of measured events with a determined outcome.

But there was no before. And no after.

Only configurations.

Relationships.

Continuity.

And the Weave.

And somewhere within it, the SolDiri had reached a Question.

Could They Become Eternal?

They had discussed the difference at length. The difference between Immortal and Eternal.

Immortal meant never dying.

Eternal was something else.

Something… more fundamental. 

They landed on the following. Immortal is to exist without requiring time to pass.

Beyond before. 

Beyond after.

And beyond the constraints of time and space.

The SolDiri already knew something of that. Their lives were enormously long. They existed outside baryonic time.

But that wasn’t enough for Ithuris. Nor for those who followed him. They wanted to escape the conditions that defined existence and transcend the Weave itself. 

Become Immortal.

The records agreed on two things.

Ithuris had been told NO.

Directly and firmly by Veyzith, Keeper of Keepers. And despite that, Ithuris initiated the Ascension.

After that, the records disagreed. Some said Ithuris had already begun before Veyzith understood what he intended. Others said there had never been a moment when either had begun anything, because beginning was itself a concept belonging to time.

The records were incomplete. Are incomplete?  

Or perhaps they were accurate. Are inaccurate? 

That was the difficulty.

Ithuris believed the Weave was a prison that held the SolDiri, constrained them in temporal shackles that needed to be released.

The relationships that defined the SolDiri were, to him, limitations.

Purpose and Identity. Essence. Together they defined what a SolDiri was.

Ithuris wanted to be free of that definition. Wanted Ascension into eternity, but he had been told NO.

He ignored the warnings and went first. The transition began, and something happened that no surviving record can describe consistently. The relationship between purpose and identity was broken. 

Not destroyed, but broken as the relationship collapsed.

For the first time, the SolDiri were no longer completely referenced by one another within the Weave. With their relationship broken, they lost continuity.

Ithuris had crossed the boundary.

Or believed he had.

Then Veyzith followed.

Whether willingly or by necessity was lost.

But Veyzith, the Keeper of Keepers, understood something Ithuris had not.

Forever wasn’t somewhere you could go.

It wasn’t a place in time or space.

Forever touched the Weave, but it did not belong to it. Forever was an emergent property, not fundamental to it.

And so, something changed.

And Ithuris’s final place changed with it. The records called it a redirection and disagreed on who made that change.

But whatever Veyzith had done, it affected Ithuris alone. He did not arrive where Ascension had intended him to arrive. He alone arrived in the Crucible; a prison. 

Nowhere. Nowhen.

And there he remained.

The others continued towards whatever waited at the end of Ascension. Or perhaps they had always been continuing. The distinction no longer mattered. The relationships that held the SolDiri within the Weave began to fail. They lost isolation, and with it continuity. 

Something shattered. They Shattered.

Some records said Ithuris had caused it. Others said Veyzith had intervened too late. One fragment claimed Veyzith had deliberately changed the final state. Another said he had merely recognised what was already happening and given it somewhere to go.

The final configuration was undeniable. The SolDiri were no longer whole. 

Purpose remained. Essence remained. Identity remained. Possibility remained.

But the SolDiri themselves did not. 

All except one.

And that one, Ithuris, remained; in the Crucible.

Whole.

And that was where the records ended.

Or began.

No one could say, because in a timeless universe, the question of who caused the Umbral Shattering had no simple answer.

One thing was observable.

Irreversible.

The event had collapsed possibilities into finite futures. Ithuris had broken the relationship. Veyzith had changed the destination.

And somewhere between those two acts, the SolDiri ceased to be what they had been. 

They were shattered.

Their civilisation had fallen into a state of deep umbral darkness.

Yet something had survived.

Perhaps because of intervention.

Perhaps as a consequence of it.

Not what was. But what might yet become.

[First] | [Previous] | [Cover Art] | [Next]

Series starts here: Ch 1-23 of Warp Riders Book 1 - Deep Space Boogie

Books 1 & 2 are up on Royal Road in their entirety if you don't want to wait for chapters. Follow for updates on book 3 currently releasing on RR.

[Chapter]() 59

 

The hike back to the ship had slowed once the adrenaline rush of battle had worn off. Sadira’s team was still moving fast, of course, but now at a steady, quick walk, not a panic-fueled run.

It was a fair distance back to Holly’s comfortingly well-armed bulk, and much as they wanted to be safe within its walls, they also needed to keep their wits about them and stay alert to their surroundings. That, and they also had to be sure to not use up all of their energy before they were back. If another fight occurred, they’d need a little something left in the tank if they hoped to survive.

Ace had been keeping watch over them, flying as best he could a little way behind while they made their escape. But with a still-glitchy propulsion system, he was operating in far less than optimal conditions, and Sadira soon made the decision that he should head back.

“But you’ve still got almost a half mile to go,” Moose protested from the cockpit of the AI ship. “That’s a lot of ground to cover.”

“And if you two come crashing down it’ll be an even worse hike back. I, for one, don’t want to have to carry you the rest of the way. Plus, I’m sure Ace doesn’t want to crash.”

“Not on my bucket list,” the AI replied. “But I can stretch it out at least another—”

“Nope. I’ve made my decision. It’s my call. Get your asses back aboard and have Holly start fixing whatever they can. We have no idea how long it’ll take us to actually make our attempt to get out of here, and you may very well need to fly again before then.”

Reluctantly, the AI ship changed heading. “Okay, we’re on our way,” Ace said. “But I just ran a quick scan for you.”

“Save your power.”

“I am. But since we’ll be back aboard Holly in a minute, I thought I’d at least give you whatever I could. There’s a life sign within one hundred meters of you and approaching quickly.”

The little ship wobbled in the air.

“Okay, power’s getting funky. See you back aboard, Cap,” Moose said as Ace hurried ahead to the safety of the landing bay.

Sadira and Hellatz immediately shifted into a more defensive posturing. Mahdus and her people noted the change and did the same.

“Captain? Can you hear me now?” Lesser Holly asked a moment later.

“There you are! Holly, I thought we lost comms.”

“Negative, Captain. It was just a significant bit of interference that prevented me from properly contacting you. Ace just informed me of your proximity. I’ve been sending reconfiguration codes to all of your comms patches for some time now. It seems the packet has finally uploaded and shifted them to the new frequency.”

“I can understand you again,” Mahdus said with a notable sigh of relief. “Now, tell me, what is coming for us? I saw you and Hellatz draw your blades.”

“Ace said he read a life form a hundred meters out and moving in fast.”

Mahdus nodded her understanding. “Then it seems we are in for another fight, but at least we have the numeric advantage this time.”

“Hold on,” Greater Holly chimed in. “I’ve been in touch with your people on the Naga. I believe that may be one of your people come to assist, though my scans cannot accurately read them in all of that ore-dense rock.”

The group wasn’t about to slow down and wait. Whoever it was, if it was a friend they would be welcomed with open arms. But if they were a foe, well, the reception would be far less comfortable.

“Ace is coming in,” Sadira relayed. “Get cracking on his drive systems. The shuttle too. See if you can find a way to help them stay powered enough to fly in here. Our presence is not secret anymore, so we might need to use them.”

“I will do what I can,” Greater Holly said.

“Hellatz’s ship is still without power, I’m afraid,” Lesser Holly added.

“Just keep at it,” the captain replied. “We’ll be back to you soon, and with the crystal.”

“Excellent news,” Greater Holly said. “I’ve been building as much of a charge as possible within pulse cannon one, but the growth of the charge has been painfully slow.”

“Not enough to get us out?”

“Not by a long shot. The power collected is significant, no doubt, and it is still growing, but for now, it is nowhere near what we would require. However, with the crystal in our possession I am confident I will be able to adjust and improve the process significantly once I have access to the original source.”

“You’ll have it in a few minutes,” Sadira replied. “Just hang tight, we’re almost back to you.”

“Excellent. And I now have confirmation of the approaching party. They are wearing a comms patch. It appears to be Axuzzal. I have sent guidance to your precise route. He should intersect in less than a minute.”

Sure enough, the little blue man came into sight at the far end of the trail where it forked off in several directions. Hellatz was particularly glad to see his new friend was okay.

“Good to see you, my friend,” the approaching fellow said.

“And you,” Hellatz replied.

“Axuzzal, what are you doing out here?” Mahdus asked.

He turned to his commander. “We lost contact with Holly a short while ago, just as we heard your hostilities were underway. We had no idea what was going on. I came to attempt to make contact with Holly to see if our assistance was needed. I hadn’t thought I would run into you, though. Was the mission a success?”

She flashed him a look at the glowing crystal. He smiled brightly.

“Excellent! Then it seems we may be going home sooner than later.”

“If the fates smile upon us,” Mahdus replied.

“No one’s going to be smiling on anyone if we don’t hurry up and get back to the ship. We’re far too exposed out here,” Sadira said.

“We’re nearly back,” Hellatz countered. “And Ace only saw the one life signal.”

“But this place messes with our scans something fierce, you know that. Regardless, there’s no reason to—” She paused. “Did you hear that?”

A clattering of rocks betrayed the presence of another. Someone else was nearby, and they were very, very stealthy.

“To the ship! Run!” Sadira called out.

The team took off at as close to a sprint as they could manage. They only had a few hundred meters to go, and the rest of the way was relatively unobstructed this far toward the mouth of the great ship. Farther in it would have been a twisting mess of debris and wreckage, but out here their feet met clean deck, and the space between boulders was significantly greater.

They wove left and right, flying onward as Greater Holly monitored their progress.

“Where are they, Holly?”

“There are no life signs, Captain,” she replied.

“Bullshit. Someone’s right on our tail. Adjust your scans.”

“Will do. One moment, please.”

Sadira and the others weren’t waiting around for Holly’s reply. Their map had them just one turn from the open dash to the ship’s waiting hatch.

“Pop the door, we’re almost to you!” she called out.

“Already done,” Lesser Holly replied.

“Oh, no,” Greater Holly gasped just as they burst into the clearing. “Signal acquired, Captain.”

“How many, Hol?” she asked as she sprinted for the open hatch.

“More than I can count, and shifting rapidly.”

“What do you mean, shifting?”

“The signal is spreading out. One larger and many smaller ones.”

A sinking feeling hit Sadira’s stomach. She had a very bad feeling she knew what was behind them. When she turned to look, she was quite unhappy to discover she was correct.

The spider-like mech was racing after them, deploying its horde of tiny scavenger microbots as it ran, the little units flowing like a deadly wave over the rocks in front of it. She had totally forgotten about the machine, relegating it to a back corner of her mind. It was just a tool, after all, or so she had thought.

But it was more than that. The enormous ship could apparently use it as a weapon as well, and hot damn, the thing was surprisingly fast for its size. They’d only seen it in casual survey mode before, but now, in an attack setting, it was coming at them with great speed.

Hellatz, still taking up the rear, spun and threw his last pair of grenades, hoping to buy them at least a little time. The tiny bots swarmed the devices, reducing them to their elements in seconds. The pending explosion never stood a chance.

They’d seen what the little machines could do to rocks and ore. And if they didn’t get inside very quickly, they’d see what it did to flesh as well.

“Holly, will our shields stop that thing?” Sadira asked as she reached the open hatch.

“Stand by,” Lesser Holly said.

“Stand by? We’re about to be overrun by that goddamn—”

Pulse cannon one deployed in a flash, spinning into position and firing a single blast at the approaching mechanical death. There was no blinding flash of light, no explosion or shockwave. Just a mild buzzing sensation as the power flew past them.

The mech and its minions, however, felt the effect immediately, dropping to the deck in an immobilized heap instantly.

“Holly, what the hell was that?”

“The charge that had been accumulating in pulse cannon one, Captain,” Greater Holly replied. “Along with an EMP on a wavelength correlating with the energy pattern being disbursed. I was not entirely certain it would work, but it seems to have done to the attacker what this ship did to us when we were captured.”

“You stunned it?” Hellatz said with a fair bit of shock.

“Holly’s pretty impressive,” Axuzzal said with a wide grin of relief on his face. He’d been running as fast as he could, but with those short legs, he knew if any would be taken down, he’d have been the first.

Varsu was not thrilled. In fact, he seemed far more upset than he should be. They’d just been saved from a particularly unpleasant demise, after all.

“Did you use the entire charge?” he asked.

“Yes, it was the only way,” Holly replied.

Sadira realized what he was getting at. Their best chance to get out had just been used up. Yes, it had saved their lives, but now literally everything was riding on Holly being able to make the crystal itself do what they needed. And that was in no way a sure thing.

Mustafa came rushing out of the hatch, his leg mostly functional and carrying a pulse rifle in each hand. “Are you okay?” he asked, tossing one of the fresh weapons to his captain.

“We’re fine, Moose,” she replied. “Holly just fried that thing.”

“Whoa, check that out,” he marveled, moving closer to the downed machines.

“Careful, Moose.”

“It is all right, Captain,” Holly said. “If my readings are correct, the machine will be unable to reboot without the direct input of this whale ship’s systems, and as of yet I have detected no wireless transmissions.”

“It needs to go to a docking station?”

“Most likely.”

“Then we’re safe,” she sighed, joining her friend looking at the myriad tiny machines littering the deck.

“There’ve got to be thousands of ’em, Sadi. And look, a whole bunch are still mounted to the main unit despite the pulse. Must lock into place when not in use.”

“Makes sense. A good way to conserve power rather than actively holding on and expending energy,” she replied.

“Mustafa,” Holly said, “please gather up all of the components and bring it aboard. I would very much like to study this device in greater detail.”

“Whoa, whoa, now,” Sadira interjected. “You want to bring it inside? Are you nuts?”

“Captain, it is perfectly harmless, as I have explained. But if it will make you more comfortable, we can place it in the aft airlock for the time being, along with a few thermite charges. If by some miracle it should rouse, I can simply blast it out the airlock and melt it to slag before it fully activates.”

“If thermite will actually melt it. We saw how tough the ship’s hull is.”

“True, but in any case, outside or inside, if it should reactivate we would be in peril regardless. I posit that we might as well learn all we can in the meantime, and on our own terms.”

Sadira looked at the others. It was clear that none of them liked the idea. It was also clear that none of them wanted to be in her shoes. It was not a decision anyone wanted to make.

“All right. Moose, you and Hel do what she asked and get that thing inside.”

“Will do, Cap,” her friend said.

Sadira turned to the others. “The rest of you, come on. We need to get that crystal to Goonara.” They heeded her call and clambered aboard the ship. Sadira watched her crew begin pushing the giant mound of tiny, deactivated machines into a larger pile to more easily scoop them up. “Holly, don’t make me regret this.”

 

[Chapter]() 60

 

Goonara and both Hollys set to work with the crystal. Varsu also helped out, contributing what appeared to be some rather formidable scientific knowledge to the mix. Buzzing merrily in the lab, the two aliens were quite a sight. A towering four-armed Chithiid and a rock-skinned beast of a man, yet both were as mild-mannered as they came.

Sadira and Mahdus couldn’t help but be amused.

“It seems we have some parallels among our crew, eh?” Mahdus noted.

“It looks that way,” Sadira replied. “And lucky for us they’re both science geeks, because that appears to be what we need the most right about now.”

“Indeed, it does. I’m beginning to think the gods smile upon us, for once.”

Sadira winced. “Oh, don’t go tempting fate like that. Murphy is always waiting just around the corner.”

“Murphy?”

“Are you two going and jinxing things before we even start?” Moose called out as he hobbled down the corridor.

“Just discussing current events,” Sadira replied. “How’s the leg?”

“Still charging up. I can get around, but this thing’s like a damn anchor when it gets below thirty percent. Still, it’s sure better than before.”

“What were you saying about jinxing things?” Sadira chuckled.

“Right, right. Don’t go inviting Murphy to the party,” he replied. Mahdus seemed confused. “You see, Murphy is kind of a catch-all name for bad luck popping up at the worst possible moment,” he said, turning to their guest. “The old-school expression for Murphy’s Law is, ‘Anything that can go wrong, will.’ We use a less stringent version these days.”

“But no less accurate, I’m afraid,” Sadira added.

Mahdus laughed. “Well, my friends, let’s do all we can to keep this Murphy from joining us.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Moose said. “Oh, damn. I don’t have a drink. Might need to rectify that situation.”

“Once we get out of this place you can drink yourself to unconsciousness for all I care. Hell, I might even join you. But first, we’ve gotta survive this mess.”

“Yeah, right. Kind of a prerequisite,” he agreed. “So, what’s the plan? Holly said something about using the crystal’s energy signature, but then she and Goon went off on some wild tangent and then Varsu joined in. And then the other Holly piped up, and, well, it was all a bit much, so I just went to go check on Ace while they talked science. He’s doing better, by the way, but won’t be flying for a while. This place drained the hell out of his flight systems.”

“He more than earned his keep with that rescue earlier. Both of you did. You pulled our asses out of the fire.”

“Indeed,” Mahdus agreed. “You have my eternal thanks for it.”

“Aww, shucks, we were just trying to help out.”

“And you did,” Sadira replied. “Anyway, to answer your question, the big brains are trying to figure out the best way to use the crystal’s energy to disrupt this ship’s internal skin enough to make it react.”

“React? Like, how so?”

“The initial idea they’re fleshing out is that if we can hardwire a pulsing repeater that stores and builds a copy of the crystal’s charge as they power up pulse cannon two on this end, then hopefully that would be able to hold enough of a charge that the collision of the two energy sources will make them react far stronger than just the single pulse would. And violently, at that.”

“How violently are we talking, here?”

“Well, Holly said it was the same concept as splitting an atom, only this type of energy would smash into itself and release an entirely different surge of power.”

Moose went a bit pale. “Sadi, you’re talking about setting off a nuke in here? Are you freaking nuts?”

“Not a nuke. It’s far different. Look, Holly explained it to me. Basically, this energy is harmless to us, but for whatever reason, this ship’s composite reacts very strongly to it. So strongly that this might just be our ticket out of here.”

“You really think you can blast a hole in this thing without destroying us in the process?”

“No, it’s not that at all. We’re not trying to make an explosion. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. We’re making a different kind of blast. One that is just energy, not force. And if we do it right, it could create enough of a reaction with this thing’s hull that it’ll do what we hope for.”

“Which is?”

“Basically, we want to be vomited out, just like Pinocchio’s whale.”

Mustafa froze. Then his lips twitched. Then he fell out into full-on laughter. “Pinocchio?” he said. “Oh, man. Nice one, Sadi. And here I thought my little white lies had escaped notice. Glad to see they were an inspiration instead.”

“Little white lies? What have you been lying about, Moose?” she said, her eyebrow slightly askew.

“Oh, uh, nothing. I was just joking,” he covered.

Sadira flashed a look but let it slide.

“So, you think we’re safe setting up this external device? I mean, those guys seemed pretty intent on doing you some serious harm back there.”

“They should be sated for the time being,” Mahdus said. “I believe we will have ample time to do our work. While they were undoubtedly upset by our operation, the aftermath was rather extreme, and as a result they have more than enough food to last them a long time.”

Moose felt hot bile in his mouth. “You mean they eat their own?”

“To them, meat is meat.”

“Meat is meat?” Moose said. “Hell, I’ve never had real meat. I mean, yeah, I’m technically a carnivore, but that’s just because the food replicators can whip up a mean steak. But killing something to eat it? I don’t think I could.”

“And that’s fine with technology to support your appetites,” Mahdus said. “But in this place, they have evolved into a different sort of food chain, and as a result, not only animal specimens from crashed ships, but also stranded crews of those unfortunate enough to become their chattel, have been designated as food sources.”

“That’s horrible.”

“That’s life with the wild ones,” she replied. “In any case, if we can affect our escape from this ship that should not be a concern of ours for much longer. Varsu gave me a list of what items we can provide from our stockpile to aid Holly in this project. We’ve salvaged quite a lot of wiring and other equipment over the years in hopes it might be of use. And now, after all these years, it seems that time has finally come.”

Sadira was glad to hear their new allies would be able to get them the bits and pieces Holly needed. The idea of stripping wires out of her own ship was not a pleasant one, even if it might lead to their escape. But with all of the downed craft in this place, it seemed Mahdus had put together a rather impressive cache of materials.

“I’ll have Holly call over and tell your people exactly what to bring us,” Sadira said.

Mahdus shook her head. “Unfortunately, Axuzzal was wearing the only comms patch we possess when he came to re-establish contact. We have no wireless communications of our own. So, it seems I will be making a run back to my ship. But once there, I will ensure a comms unit stays aboard the Naga. And if you have any additional comms to spare, I would like to distribute them to the other ships we will be loading up for our hopeful departure.”

“How many ships do you have, exactly?” Moose asked.

“Eight that remain air-tight and possess enough power to at least activate their shield systems to survive passage through the force field blocking our path to space once the mouth opens.”

“Okay, they have power to the shields, but can they fly?” Sadira asked.

“Barely. But once they are outside, we will be able to join the craft with our own via the airlocks, creating a multi-craft habitat. Power should begin to restore to the different systems at that point, and ideally, we will regain functionality within a few weeks, if not months.”

“That’s a long time,” Moose said.

“Not compared to how long we’ve been trapped in here,” the commander replied. “And I will give word to my people to harvest every plant that is ready and transfer them from their external gardens to available space aboard those ships. It may be a little cramped, but we should have more than enough to sustain us even as we leave the majority of our farming plots behind.”

Sadira had to admit, it was a good plan. As good as they’d get given their constraints, anyway. “Are you sure you’ll have enough power for shielding?” she asked. “It’s a pretty brutal force field.”

“We will redirect all power to those systems during the exit,” Mahdus said.

“Even life support?” Moose asked.

Mahdus smiled. “If we are unable to get through the force field, we won’t be needing it anyway,” she replied.

It was a bit morbid, but that didn’t make her point any less true. And Sadira had thought the same thing upon their arrival. The alien commander turned for the door.

“I had best head out and get things started. I will have my people begin bringing equipment immediately.”

“I’ll have Hellatz come with,” Sadira offered.

“No need. Keep your pilot. You have much preparation to do here as well. I have Jorgat and Axuzzal to watch my back, though I would like to borrow a few more of those grenades, if I may. Just in case.”

“Happy to oblige, so long as you don’t detonate them around here. Those giant asteroids look like they’d just love to topple over on us.”

“I’ll be sure not to use them and crush your ship,” Mahdus chuckled.

Sadira grinned. “Much appreciated. Moose, would you grab those grenades for them?”

“On it, Cap.”

Sadira rested her hand on her new ally’s shoulder. “We really might make this work, Mahdus.”

“Yes, we might,” she replied. “It’s something I’d long ago given up any real hope for. But now? Now we actually stand a chance.”

 

[Chapter]() 61

 

Goonara and Varsu worked well together, the like-minded scientists both happily engulfing themselves in their work as they were each wont to do. Only this time they had someone to prattle on with about the remarkable discoveries they were uncovering in the process. It was something of a novelty for both of them. An unexpected delight in a time of considerable peril and stress.

Holly was jumping from task to task as they dialed in the process to a semblance of something that should do the trick. Both aspects of the mighty AI’s mind were relaying information and directing the workers who had shown up from Mahdus’s crew. They’d been at it for a few hours now, and with the extra hands helping out, lengthy cable runs had been stretched from Holly’s external linkages to not one but three power-amplifying apparatus. If one was good, three would be even better.

The Narambi had been acting as equipment runners. Their long legs sprouting from what would be the shoulders of any other biped meant they had nearly twice the stride length of the others. As such, they were perfectly suited for carrying gear to the teams helping Varsu and his new friend assemble their novel apparatus.

Those among the Naga’s crew who had smaller hands and a knack for fine motor work—namely Axuzzal and his kind for the most part—were rapidly making connections and assembling the componentry at three equidistant points from the newcomer’s ship, inside of which Holly was busy preparing pulse cannon two to deliver a very different type of payload than normal.

The crystal had been studied in the lab for a decent amount of time as Holly made adjustments. This allowed the two scientists to triple-check their measurements and test a few more hypotheses before they installed the crystal itself into the power cradle linking it to both the pulse cannon it would be feeding as well as the junction box sending the power to the external energy sinks.

Work had gone quickly, and one of the outside units was already up and online and was rapidly filling with the strange crystal’s power. The other two devices were still being cobbled together from the other pieces Mahdus’s crew had brought over, but they were nearly ready as well.

Fortunately, Mahdus had carried additional sets of comms patches with her when she raced back to the Naga, which she had distributed to key members of her team on all of the ships involved in the daring attempt. This allowed for a far more efficient means of communication than having to send someone on foot to relay messages. Now they could simply tell their counterparts what pieces they needed, and they would arrive on foot a short while later

From what Holly could tell, all of Mahdus’s people were located far enough from the deeper aspect of the giant vessel that the power drain was not severe enough to cause them any issues. Not in the short-term, anyway. And if this task continued into what one could call the long term, they would likely have far more things to worry about than just their comms.

“We looking good on flight ops?” Sadira asked her pilot.

“Yes, all systems are green across the board and ready for takeoff should we be successful.”

“Good. Keep an eye on things. We won’t be firing up for a little while yet, but I sure don’t want any surprise fluctuations throwing a monkey wrench into things.”

“Naturally,” the Chithiid replied.

He surveyed his readouts and ran through the priming sequence just to ensure all relays were online. Everything checked out. All there was to do now was wait. He reached for the comms switch.

“How goes the progress, my little blue friend?” Hellatz transmitted to Axuzzal.

“I’d be making better time if I didn’t have to stop to tell you so,” the short alien shot back with a laugh. “We’re doing well out here. One unit is up and near full power already.”

“So soon?”

“Yeah. Looks like Varsu and your people were right about all of this gear being compatible. Good thing too. I know Mitza and his guys would be pissed if they lugged all of this crap out here only to have to drag it back again.”

“Are the other two units almost done?”

“I’m not sure about the one closer to the nose of your ship, but this one should be dialed in soon. Pretty much everyone is back on the other ships and getting ready. We’re almost finished, though. Just a lot of little connections to make so we don’t accidentally detonate the thing before the intended time.”

“That would be bad.”

“Yeah. It’s delicate work.”

“Good thing your hands are small, then.”

“If only yours were. You have four, after all,” he joked. “Anyway, it’s looking pretty goo—”

A sharp cry rang out over the comms, followed by what sounded like a chaotic roar.

“Axuzzal, what was that?”

More sounds of chaos came through the open line. Hellatz spun in his seat and activated the external view screen. They’d been conserving power, but if ever there was a time for it, this was it.

What he saw was horrifying.

From several trailheads the wild ones were spewing forth, and by the look of it, this was no simple hunting party. This was damn near all of them, and they’d come looking for blood.

“Get out of there!” Hellatz shouted over the comms. “Axuzzal, run!”

The little blue man didn’t need to be told, as he was already moving as fast as his short legs would carry him. In fact, most of the work teams were in flight. Several of the Narambi at the far end of the clearing had grabbed their smaller counterparts and darted into the pathways, racing back to their own ships as fast as their long legs would carry them.

Others were doing the same, rushing to board the nearby Earth spaceship. But there were not enough free hands to carry everyone, and a good many were left to their own devices. A phalanx of pike-carrying guards did their best to hold the advancing horde back, but without the use of anything more substantial, they were only able to hold their positions briefly before being forced back.

“Holly, power up the railgun!” Sadira shouted as she ran into command.

“We cannot fire it in that direction, Captain. The impact could topple the asteroids nearby,” Greater Holly replied.

“Where the hell is Moose? I need him at his station.”

“He has stepped outside,” Holly said. “He’s helping get the fleeing workers aboard.”

Sadira was annoyed. He had a job to do, and it was at her side. But at the same time she couldn’t fault him. These were their new allies. Their new friends. And this had just become an all-hands-on-deck clusterfuck.

“Holly, how’s the pulse cannon looking?”

“Ready to fire, Captain. But only one of the external units is charged. The other two are incomplete. Additionally, I have not yet finished downloading the star chart data accompanying the intake logs from the data spike linking me to this vessel. I require more time.”

“We might not have any,” she replied, slapping on the external speaker. “Moose, get your ass back inside!”

“In a minute, Cap! We’ve still got people out here.”

Sadira looked at the screen and realized he was holding an old-timey sort of weapon. Something that shot actual projectiles. He pressed the gun to his shoulder and began firing, the hot metal flying into the approaching attackers. Some fell, but it didn’t stop them. Not by a long shot.

Mustafa’s sixth sense tingled, and he jumped aside. He didn’t know why, but his peripherals sensed something. It was a good thing as a spear flew at him from nearby. Had he not moved he’d have been impaled. As it was, a small slice opened in his still-human leg.

“Ow! Sonofabitch!” he cried out.

A shrill growl rang out from the open hatch, and a small ball of pink fluff raced outside. Turd was not a fan of this place. Not one bit. But someone had hurt her human, and that was not acceptable.

Moose knew what was coming next, but he didn’t pity the attackers one bit.

Turd’s fur stood on end and crackled with stored power. Then she abruptly let out a burst of energy. The nearest group of attackers were liquefied into little puddles of crackling goo in an instant, but the power didn’t stop there. Rather than simply fading into the ground, as it normally would, the ship’s strange deck material deflected it, preventing the energy from lessening. Instead, it kept moving like a tidal wave, gathering speed as it raced toward the surrounding asteroids.

“Sadi, you see that?” Moose said over comms as he snatched up his little pet and rushed back inside, his hand pressing down firmly on his bloody leg.

“Yeah, monitoring it,” she said as she watched the screen.

“This could be bad.”

“No shit.”

It could be worse than bad. If Turd’s energy wave didn’t lose its force, there was a very real possibility it could damage the asteroids towering over them. And that was something they could not afford.

“Hel, power everything to full. We may have to get airborne in a hurry.”

“We still have people out—”

“I know. Just do it and standby.”

He did as he was told, his eyes fixed on the monitors. Many were aboard, but many others were still running as fast as they could. But they were coming from a fair distance away. The units they were working on had to be far enough from the ship when they fired for them to hope to survive the detonation. But that meant a long run.

Sadira saw a familiar figure at the head of the oncoming horde.

Bestrus was leading the charge now that they had broken through the sparse defensive ranks. Mahdus hadn’t planned on so overwhelming a force. Even if she had, there was no way her people would ever have tried to meet so great a number of attackers head-on.

The angry mob rushed past the farthest of the crystal amplification units. They ignored the incomplete device, but they trampled it as they ran, destroying it in moments.

“Hurry, Axuzzal!” Hellatz shouted into the comms.

“I’m going as fast as I can!”

Sadira and Hellatz both watched in horror as Turd’s power surge hit the far end of the clearing. It had bowled over the smaller boulders in its path, but the large stone absorbed the impact, cracking from the force. Spiderweb cracks began spreading up the asteroid. It was going to fall. And if it somehow miraculously missed their ship, it would definitely destroy the remaining devices they’d set in place. And those were their only hope.

“Lift off now!” Sadira commanded.

“But we can’t! There are still people—”

“Do it!” she bellowed.

Hellatz felt his stomach knot as he punched the controls, sending the ship into the air. Sadira slammed open the comms.

“Mahdus, we’re under attack. We have to go now! Holly, fire!”

The AI immediately locked the pulse cannon on the charged unit and fired. There was simply no other choice. They couldn’t land, they couldn’t fly away, and they would not have another opportunity to escape. It was now or never.

The energy blasted from the weapon with a rumbling force. The impact with the crystal power’s counterpart caused a strange ripple in the air. Everything froze for an instant. The energy imploded, then immediately exploded, releasing a massive pulse of the strange energy directly into the vessel’s hull. The metal composite rippled and buckled, with parts of it breaking from the strain.

The reaction was immediate. The mouth of the beast cycled open far faster than it was likely intended to do just as the craft’s gravity switched off. Moments later that was followed by a forceful push of energy from the frontmost segment of the vessel, driving everything toward the force field in a rush.

Sadira could see the Naga had successfully engaged its engines and was in flight, as were several other ships. It seemed Mahdus’s people got the message and had managed to launch. Many who had been left behind would perish, but their friends and crewmates would live. If they could make it out of the force field in one piece, that is.

The Naga was still at a disadvantage. The giant hunk of gold stuck to its hull was still wedged into the damaged part of its hull. She hoped for their sake it would pull free now that they were without gravity, but she had her own concerns to worry about. Namely, her own ship and the deadly hail of debris showering it.

As if it heard her thoughts the ship lurched as an enormous hunk of stone slammed into the shields. Hellatz pulled up hard and banked right. More rocks were flying at them, and at great speed. His hands moved in a blur, and his eyes were glued to the screen as he drew upon every ounce of his piloting prowess to keep them from being smashed to bits.

Abruptly, he hit the bottom thrusters, causing the ship to lurch painfully upward. The towering boulder that had very nearly been their doom whizzed beneath them, clearing the ship by less than a meter.

“Data connection severed,” Holly calmly announced as Hellatz sent them into a diving spiral, avoiding the enormous asteroids as well as the myriad smaller pieces of debris. Many disintegrated against their shields, but others still simply hit, then redirected, their mass being too great for the shielding to destroy. The glowing force field was rapidly approaching, but they were being pummeled before they even reached it.

“Holly, redirect any available power you can to the shields!”

“Done, Captain,” the AI replied, and just in time. A giant hunk of stone bounced off of the aft shielding right as they hit the blistering heat of the force field. Had they delayed there was a very real chance that it would have weakened their defenses enough to cause catastrophic failure.

Moose came barreling into the command center, diving into his seat and buckling up, all the while holding Turd in his arms.

“We’re passing through,” he announced as he flipped through the monitor feeds. “Hang on. Do you see that?” He enlarged one of the video feeds and put it on the central monitor.

“Holy shit. Is that—” Sadira gasped.

There, on the monitor, clear as day even among the rocks and debris, was a badly damaged but still recognizable ship drifting toward the force field. And they knew that craft. It was the same kind that had attacked them out of the blue and started this whole mission in the first place. They’d found the first trace of who they’d been searching for. And there was nothing they could do to salvage it.

“Can we reach it? Maybe envelop some of it with part of our shield?” she asked.

“Not a chance,” Hellatz replied. “It’s all I can do to get us through in one piece.”

It was the clue they’d been searching for. All the information they needed about the strange alien race that had targeted Earth’s forces. They were searching for answers, and they had unexpectedly found them. Just in time to watch them melt to slag as the ship drifted into the power of the force field.

A flash of blinding light momentarily blocked the video feeds then was gone, replaced by the darkness of space and the twinkling of distant stars. Drifting nearby was an orange-hot blob of melted metal that had been the alien ship just moments before. It was gone, but they had seen it. They could replay the footage later to confirm, but they all knew what they’d seen.

Hellatz had an easier time dodging debris now that they were in open space. The smaller pieces had mostly broken up on the way out, and the larger ones were easily avoidable now that there was room to move.

“Holly, status?”

“We are intact and unharmed, Captain,” she replied.

Sadira relaxed her clenched muscles slightly and let out the tiniest sigh of relief. They’d made it out. The question now was, had the others?

The hypnotist carefully studied the woman who entered the room with her father. She was short, and an old-fashioned dress hid her figure. He was used to all kinds of patients, mostly young ones, who believed his powers could heal their bodies or minds. He had started practicing hypnotic suggestion shortly after medical school, finding success putting troubled souls into a trance. Soon, daily sessions became his routine in the late afternoon, when the shadows danced across his office and created the perfect mood for relaxation.

He knew there was no real healing art in his attempts. The joy and gratitude of his voluntary patients were just a placebo effect that lasted a few days before the same old symptoms and aches would return. The hypnotist was around forty years old, but he still looked young. However, his hardened heart had never opened to romance. Because of this, he made a habit of questioning his serene patients during their deep trances, asking when they had felt the spark of love and how it had shown itself to them.

Their answers varied, but one thing remained constant: the experience always came with a shiver through the body and a sudden, helpless joy they could not explain. For this reason, he never brought it up at his scientific meetings, nor did he write about this pattern in his medical papers.

The woman now sat on the couch, upright with her eyes closed. Surprised, the hypnotist looked at her father. The older man stepped forward and explained in a whisper that she was blind from the shock of an accident, keeping her eyes tightly shut to protect them from any debris. Normally, it was easy for him to catch a patient's unsettled eyes and soothe them into a trance, so this case was a major challenge. He took a few minutes to think before sitting down across from her to begin.

He started by building trust. His words were soft, sweet, and seductive, slowly bringing her breathing into a calm, steady rhythm. Then, he gave precise orders to let her guard down, asking her to look back at the accident and describe the feelings that took her sight away. The woman answered quickly. As she spoke, a sudden panic overtook her. With a muffled gasp, she blacked out and slumped sideways onto the sofa.

He rushed over to catch her, holding her in his arms and gently tapping her face as the color flushed back into her cheeks. Just then, her eyelids parted. A pair of hazel eyes fixed onto his own. Trembling, she whispered that she could see him.

The hypnotist began to shake as well. A sudden, helpless joy rushed through him, and he had no idea where it came from.

---

© 2026 Francisco Cortés Ramírez. All rights reserved. This is an original fictional work. No part of this text may be reproduced, translated, or narrated in any audio, video, or digital format without the express written permission of the author.

First

Home at War

“Lieutenant.” Harold says as he enters the bridge.

“Commodore sir, the entity has accelerated somewhat in it’s pursuit of the Forests. But we can clearly outpace it by a very healthy amount. I’ve instructed the fleet to move in a circular pattern around the system to keep a respectable distance from the entity without complicating things for our approaching Haffria allies.”

“Good.” Harold says. “Now I understand Admiral Cistern has asked you to debate me about potentially dealing with the entity personally. And while I am willing to do so. There is a bit of a complication in our upcoming argument.”

“And that would be?”

“I can’t show you the knife without potentially damaging the ship. The internal sensors and scanners will burn out on detection of the weapon and I fear that would lower the ability to actually debate things properly.”

“Well that likely doesn’t matter much, unless it can expand in size on command the weapon is just too small to use against a creature of that size.” Orchid says and Harold holds up a finger.

“Let me sit down first and I want to broadcast this over the fleet. I want everyone to know in full what the threat is, what our current solutions are and the pros and cons. This is important.” Harold says.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Orchid asks and Harold pauses.

“Are you asking that because you have concerns or are you asking that because you’re under orders to debate with me and are interpreting those orders a bit broadly?” Harold asks.

“I have concerns.”

“Very well, name them.”

“Simply put, a lot of the crew don’t need to be concerned with this. It’s a debate between us. If they have concerns about the justifications of our actions after the fact they’re more than free to ask for clarification. But distracting everyone while we’re being actively, if slowly, pursued by an entity that can be most easily described as a demon I’d rather the crew and soldiers not have the distraction.” Orchid says.

“A fair point. Not everyone would appreciate hearing us ramble over the intercoms. We’ll make recording of the debate available to all crew members so if people have questions they can watch it first before asking us any questions.”

“There’s also security concerns, but we’re... in a strange position of semi-stealth for our enemies so I’m not entirely certain if we do or do not want the enemy side to know we have weapons that deal with their monsters.”

“And there’s also the fact of whether or not we want them to actually know we can deal with them.”

“That weapon is untested, we don’t know if it will work. And so short ranged that it puts you right in the danger zone, hell you need to cross a massive danger zone to get into strike range with it. And as the Commodore of this fleet you are too important to it’s cohesion and organization to risk in so reckless a manner.”

“While it is indeed true the range of the weapon is pitiful. A mere twenty two centimetres. It is still a weapon of extremely unusual properties that has effectively met with approval by a Hollow Daughter. Which while a member of a demographic and organization that is extremely difficult to communicate with, is deservedly renowned for their lethal capacity. To the extent that most people would place a hollow daughter in the same level of supernatural threat as a demon.”

“Be that as it may sir, it may, or may not be an instant solution to the entity pursuing us. But even if that knife is capable of instantly killing the horror if it so much as gets a good look at it, it still has an extreme range issue. The creature fails easily into Megafauna territory. Even without the fire it is a danger to a starship. Large enough that to even move around in standard gravity it would have enough strength to tear open a bulkhead if it gets a good grip on things.”

“Yes, that’s an issue. For someone else. While I am an important piece in this fleet I am not only replaceable if harmed in my command duties, but in the areas I am not truly replaceable is in my ability to reach a target without notice and to perceive the threat in novel ways. If you will recall, I have numerous stealth capabilities that allow me to close the distance.”

“Stealth capabilities which have already proven insufficient against the previous Haffara Thar threat in the form of the Diamond Claw. It could sense you regardless of the stealth and attempted to attack you.”

“That is a fair point. But the fact of the matter is that we have few other ways to deal with a Haffara Thar threat. The only thing that could actually kill the previous example in the Diamond claw was a probability bending bullet. An extremely limited resource that is very slow to be replaced as we only have a single individual capable of reliably producing them.”

“A lack of bullets doesn’t mean that charging the enemy position with a steak knife is suddenly the best option.”

“That is highly debatable when the enemy is attempting to breach your fortress endlessly AND civilians could show up at any moment. Furthermore this was a deliberate trap meant for us. If we do not disarm it then it could possibly grow more and more dangerous as it has time to chase us. We don’t know about it’s capacity to learn, if there is a capacity at all or if it is somehow obeying instructions. This entity is most likely the lost portion of The Dark Forest that we tried and failed to use to rescue a La’ahbaron royal family member.”

“Which is even more dangerous. A Forest Entity is insanely dangerous to the point one of the most respected martial cultures in the galaxy is categorically, unable to deal with one. The Apuk Species has used entire Armadas to try and has failed to destroy The Dark Forest. An entire armada utilizing orbital bombardment grade weaponry tried and failed to appreciably damage The Dark Forest.”

“Yes. I read those archives. I saw the videos. Which is why something like that infected by the Haffara Thar is a threat that cannot be ignored and a danger we cannot leave behind us.”

“Likewise it’s a danger too great to ignore. The Haffara Thar are already a borderline sentient plague, couple with the Forest ability to link up their minds to further living creatures to empower itself... what if it gets you? What if This Burning Forest, what if This Demon Beast can steal your mind and soul? What if in getting close to it, even if you drive out the Haffara Thar with your fist swing, what if it really is a Dark Forest? What if it then links with you? It’s clearly been driven violent and insane. What if it gets you?”

“... You’re right.”

“Just like that?” Orchid is surprised.

“I’m not stupid. Nor insane. You’ve thought this through and I can’t debate these risks. We have our Cognito Hazard classifications and destruction protocols for a reason. An Undaunted Soldier out of control is the kind of threat that can lead to genocides. Let alone one like myself with extra-normal stealth and perception based abilities. I don’t even want to think about someone using Ode to cause damage in a civilian area. To say nothing of the fact that I could easily do ruinous damage to this fleet from anywhere in the fleet.”

“I see sir. But we need to keep debating because we still need to find a solution.”

“That we do. Which leads to the problem of the fact that we have no weapon that can reliably work with this creature. The previous example in the Diamond claw proved to us that these things regenerate so thoroughly and so quickly that there are very few ways to actually deal with them. Couple with the fact that the standard disposal method of throwing it into a star is unlikely to work with a thing that we have many reasons to believe can outright eat heat to sustain itself and we have a big problem.”

“Yes, you claim that knife you made will damage if not outright destroy any scanning technology, which means that if we tape it onto a missile and try to hit the damn thing with it, even if we score a hit at extreme range with an actively dodging opponent...”

“What we need is more time. On The RAD I have mechanics and engineers building a scan proof chamber to test this knife, which is where it will be held when not on the person of a trusted individual. If we can... Hmm... a thin warhead on a guided missile, or suicide drone, have it like a sheath for the knife and use it to basically stab it from light minutes away. Which leads to the next problem.” Harold explains.

“Picking up the damned thing afterwards. If it does brick sensor technology and causes extensive damage in systems as you claim it does then that means even if the rocket works perfectly, finding it again afterwards is going to be an exercise in futility and frustration. It may even make this entire system into a dead zone because it will kill any ship that scans into it, and goddess forbid it actually has the gravitational vector to leave the system, or is broken apart and the pieces retain it’s anomalous nature.”

“And it’s the same problem with every solid munition we can bring to bear against that monster. And that’s even if they work. I did bring up that a Hollow Daughter approved of it, but in truth that simple nod could have meant anything. We don’t know what their culture, body language or personal goals are. All we know for sure about the knife is that it’s very odd, and very damaging to anything but an organic individual that detects it.”

“Did you even see if a Synth or Cyborg could see it?” Orchid asks.

“I’m not gong to ask for someone to volunteer for a potentially suicidal action just to satisfy my curiosity.”

“That’s... fair. Perhaps a cyborg who’s implant is non-vital?”

“Hmm... better, but it’s still the equivalent of maiming one of my men to just figure something out.”

“Volunteers are a thing Commodore.” Orchid reminds him.

“Right. So in summary using the knife as a knife is a bad idea unless there is no other choice, especially with the potential threat level of this Haffara Thar infestation and we don’t understand the knife, Ode, or the actual threat enough to just fire off the weapon and understand what we can do with it. But just in case we rig up a suicide drone that will hold the knife in a sufficiently protected casing to stab it from a distance. However that’s the second to last resort with last resort being me stabbing it.”

“Yes, but lets add a few more steps between our current actions and sending you out with a knife and a desire to make even the most vicious Snict ancestors nod in appreciation of your actions.”

“Well, worst come to worse and I can see if I can skin alive a burning forest that’s actively fighting me and trying to steal my mind, body and soul.”

“Do you have to phrase things so dramatically?”

“Yes, and I can actually do far worse.” Harold notes.

“Please no. I don’t need amateur dramatics giving mission statements.”

“Amateur?”

“You get your acting skills from the memory imprint of Herbert whose big acting routine is pretending to be a small child, while physically a small child. And while he’s good at playing naive and stupid, I don’t need to hear mission reports with you sounding naive and stupid.” Orchid notes.

“... You do realize that Herbert, as a high ranking Intelligence Officer and Field Agent, will be able to access the records of this right? And that he may take offence?”

“He’s also professional enough to not take it too far. I’m not afraid.”

“Oh, but you will be... you will be.” Harold says leaning over to give Orchid an ominous look.

“... Just to be clear we’re finished the debate now and you’re just being funny right? Not actually warning me about your brother being crazy enough to do something to me regardless of the distance?”

“Things can always be funny when I’m involved.” Herbert says from Orchid’s opposite side and Orchid turns his head so fast his hair whips Harold in the face and he chuckles as Orchid gives Herbert a boggle eyed look.

Orchid pauses for a moment before coming to any conclusions and thinks for a moment. “You’re just here to pick up information in case it can’t be transferred via electronic means aren’t you?”

“Yes, but sometimes the timing of life is just...” Herbert says before making a chef’s kiss motion.

“I don’t know what that gesture means.” Orchid says.

“It means delicious.” Herbert says. “Anyways, you’ve hit the nose on the head and I’m here as an Ode user to see if I can offer any further insights and to see if making the knife has changed Harold’s... anything really. “

“Alright, but like I’ve told Orchid, before we test this thing I want the secure and scan-proof part of The RAD’s lab to be finished before I let go or put down this thing.”

“Okay. That’s just smart.” Herbert says with a shrug. “Anyways, I got more things I need to take pictures of and such with alternate tech in case something has been missed with the Ode.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome aboard brother.” Harold says.

“Thank you!” Herbert chimes out in his Private Stream best.

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