u/KyleKKent

First

(Days like Today I really, TRULY, hate being autistic. It takes all my willpower to not run around my apartment flailing and screaming right now.)

Home at War

“So it’s definitely a space station.” Orchid notes as they finally get a full visual feedback of whatever the hell is in the next system.

“Not sure it counts as a station. I mean... it’s either so close to the ground on that third world it might as well be a structure.” The Sensor Technician notes.

“But it’s so tall it may as well be in orbit around that planetoid. Whatever it is, it’s way too big to not be important to someone. We skim the edge of the system. Give them a hello and a once over, if it’s not our problem it’s not our problem. If they’re friendly we pay them for local information about who’s been mining out here and other potential stations. If they’re unfriendly we do a very quick risk assessment on whether fighting them is worth our time or not, if they are we get to have some fun. If not then we save our energy for someone else. Make sense?” Harold declares and there is some movement as his orders are relayed to the rest of the fleet.

The Fleet takes only another hour to reach the system and they skim the edge, getting a good scan and well within communication range. Albeit with some delay.

“They’re powering up shields on their station and priming weapons. Looks like they just noticed us.”

“Smaller ships are breaking away, shields and weapons powering up on them too.”

“We’ve got communicatiosn incoming. There’s going to be some delay on things.”

“On screen.” Harold orders.

“Unknown Fleet!” A Lutrin woman half howls at the camera. “You are trespassing in our territory! You will pay us tribute or be shot to pieces!”

“That’s the first burst sir.”

“Well they don’t lack for confidence do they?” Harold asks. “Begin recording.”

He gets the thumbs up.

“Unknown station this is The Inconceivable of The Ambush Fleet, you are challenging The Undaunted, do you truly wish to continue upon this path?” He asks before signalling for the message to be cut off there. “Send it.”

“The diplomatic way of asking ‘Really?’, are you certain?”

“They’re already belligerent if not hostile.” Harold notes as he rolls his neck.

“We have an answer sir.”

“Put them on as they come.” Harold says and the screen shows the Lutrin again.

“I do wish to continue, but it would indeed be tedious to take all that I am owed slowly. So I challenge you in the ring of honour! Altratha!” She declares and the message ends.

“... Was that really all of it?” Harold asks.

“Yes sir.”

“No hint on what the hell Altratha is?” He continues.

“Uh...” Orchid begins.

“Yes?”

“I know what it is... but... challenging you to it is.. wow.”

“What is it?”

“Altratha is a Lutrin battle tradition. A duel of leaders. She wants to fight you. Personally.” Orchid says and Harold laughs.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Anything about this duel I should know about? Any weird ways to confirm a win or requirements or anything like that?”

“When an Altratha is between clans mothers put their sons up for ante, but that’s ancient tradition. And the terms have to be stated ahead of time, so she’s not allowed to surprise you.”

“So she wants a fight to see who gets the prize.” Harold muses. “Start recording!”

“Miss... whatever your name is, exactly what is it that you want of me and my fleet and what are you willing to wager in return? One must know the stakes before they make a wager after all.” He then signals them to stop the recording and they send it.

“You’re entertaining this?” Orchid asks.

“This may be an unorthodox way to get information or resources.” Harold notes.

“She’s liable to try something tricky.”

“And if I get past it anyways she’s likely to be so intimidated that she won’t protest or try to renege on the wager.” Harold notes.

“Depends entirely on the wager.” Orchid replies. “Some Lutrin can get fairly absurd about this. Even the more civilized ones and not what are near certainly outlaws.”

“Just you.” The voice of the Lutrin cuts off the conversation and Harold slowly turns to the communication officers.

“Is there more than that?’

“No.”

“Oh for the love of god. Begin recording.” Harold orders. “What exactly do you mean by ‘Just me?’ don’t get cute here, I am a man with actual demands on my time and lawful duties and orders to follow. What do you want and what are you prepared to wager for it in exchange?”

He gives the signal to send it ans he hunches back in his seat a little in annoyance.

“I want you. I want you to be mine pretty man and everything that is yours, and my counter offer is your life.”

“This is beyond stupid. She’s declared herself hostile. Scramble their communications and get into her systems. We’re crippling that station and taking plunder.” Harold orders. “All ships, attempted communications have broken down with the unknown station and the self introduced leader has declared herself hostile. We are going to disable them and then take our picking of their ships for raw material. Failing to do so means that the crazy woman and her forces will pursue us, I will be sending the messages the station and I were having. I want all captains to quickly review them and tell me if I have missed anything before opening fire. You have five minutes.”

His announcement given he has the files sent and starts a ten minute counter for himself instead. At the three minute mark he gets the response from all ships, the enemy was indeed hostile and would indeed pursue if they simply left.

He sends the Hive Carriers to sweep around as he has the Primalist Ships take an offensive formation around The Inconceivable. The Bloody Heron is behind, waiting for coordinates to open a portal and drop their troops.

His own ship is getting into more and more systems as the enemy ships start closing the distance.

At ten light second’s distance the first few explosive shots reach for them and defensive laser emplacements detonate them prematurely.

At five light seconds the laser banks on both sides warm up, the Hive Carriers are on the spinward flank and ready to break apart and send their drones.

“Shut them down!” Harold orders when they reach two light seconds distance and he information warfare of his ship goes into overdrive. “Hive Carriers, I want their engines and weapons disabled. Primalist Forces, we are going to shoot down anything that isn’t crippled in the opening salvo.”

The enemy force is a small fleet of thirty ships. None of them larger than The Bloody Heron, but the sheer weight of numbers would normally carry the day. But the Hive Carriers are crippling scalpels surgically hamstringing them all and destroying their strength. Five of them are disabled in the first minute as momentum keeps the two lines getting closer and closer together.

“All forces, focus on shields and weapons. But if any of those ships gives you more trouble than the others, then let it have all of it.” Harold orders even as the Lagos Brothers begin their own firing routines.

Dozens of different emplacements around the front and sides of The Inconceivable open fire. Primarily lasers, but all of them at differing frequencies. All slightly shifted from each other from each half of each wing. Each brother controlled an eighth of the weapon systems and with the work divided they could divided their attention. Both coordinating with and covering for each other simultaneously. Three more pirate ships are scuttled in moments as the Primalists work to keep pace.

The Lagos Brothers take it as competition and increase their viciousness. Putting down another four as the Primalist ships work together to get five and the Hive Carriers cripple another two.

The remaining ships are struggling to change their vectors or cycle their shields as the lasers of the small feet smash into them and burn through defensive emitters and decapitate weapon platforms. There are several quick combination attacks to the last few ships tyring to fight back, but it’s quickly down to five enemy ships that are sending out all signs of surrender.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have won. Let’s go confirm it.” Harold orders and there is a cheer on the ship. The Inconceivable moves forward. “Bloody Heron, I want the forces on your vessel to take the station. I want answers and information, not corpses. Especially not your own. Understood?”

“Copy that Commodore.” Jacob sends back.

“Primalist Forces, I want you to secure this fleet, the remaining intact ships are yours to confirm the surrender of. Take all reasonable precautions, I doubt I need to tell you that your life is worth a lot more than that of the enemy. No stupid risks.”

“Confirmed Inconceivable.”

The Warship moves with it’s fleet and towards the station. It’s weapons don’t fire at first. But Harold orders everyone to keep their shields at maximum. And he’s right to do so, there is a sudden firing of lasers, plasma and more in different directions. Smaller shuttles start taking off and the Hive Carriers take out their engines.

The Inconceivable’s lasers and plasma kill the weapons on the station and The Bloody Heron emerges from it’s shadow. Swooping close even as it gets it’s coordinates and opening a portal.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Unidentified Pirate Fortress, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

The tiny shoulder of an Apuk woman meets the combat walker at the same time as the shoulder of the massively overmuscled human. And it’s hard to say which one caused more damaged as the machine and it’s pilot are sent flying backwards with a scream of terror.

Weapons are raised as a pair of tiny figures flit out like shadows and smoke. Leaving massive rents or just plain destroyed tools of war in their wake, just in time for a concussive waver of power to send nearly everyone to their knees if not to the ground, and the few with the wherewithal to remain standing find a four armed hurricane slamming numerous armoured fists into their being and sent into the land of the unconscious.

Bjorn nods as he and his higher ranked soldiers clear the portal zone and the rest of the forces pour out of the portal. He brings up a map of the station and studies it.

“Forces time to move! Breech Squad with me! Break Squad form up with Elija and Ellie, lock down the armouries and disable anything you can’t lock down! Shake Squad with Zyen’Huwt and Naomi! System control! I want it! Hate Squad! Make Squad! You’re under Banshee! Secure the area! Keep this room clear!

Everyone starts moving and Bjorn gives a final order to ‘Synch Maps!’

He leads his squad of eight through the door and heads to the emergency stairs. Trusting a lift is just begging to be in a kill box and at the pace he’s setting, and the girls are keeping up with, they’re faster than the lift anyways. Twenty levels pass in moments and he shoulders open the next door. It’s a sliding door and so he ends up folding it in half and sending it careening into the far wall.

There are screams and he fires off a couple of quick bursts from his plasma cannon to get everyone nearby to duck, and also slag an armoured mech suit. He then throws the remains of the door down the hall and it forces everyone brave enough to stick their heads out and try to fire to duck back in. He follows it with more plasma aimed right at where they were poking their weapons out of and bravery turns out to NOT be a survival trait in this scenario as three heads are reduced to ash and char and blood starts pooling at the entrance to the next room.

He kicks the remains of the mech suit of of the way and examines the room the girls had been poking out of. A laser beam lances out and nails his cannon. His Axiom Brand tingles a little and he slowly turns the cannon to the source.

“No no! No no no! I surrender! I surrender! Do not kill me! Please do not kill me!” A lutrin woman claims holding her hands up high and backs up to the far wall with clear fear on her face.

“Weapon down if you want to live.” Bjorn tells her. The Laser has it’s safety openly and obviously activated and slowly put down. “You Lutrin are hard to tell apart, are you the one in command?”

“No. No, it’s my cousin.

“Where is she?”

“She was on the Vert Line, one of the warships. She wanted to go out and ‘claim her prize’ in person.” The Lutrin answers and Bjorn nods.

“Good. Where is the command crew?”

“We’re traffic control, the command crew were all heading to the armouries or weapon emplacements when the main fleet was disabled. Although some probably went to the shuttles instead.”

“Good.”

First Last

First

Home at War

They’re only a few hours out of the next system when Rain brings news to Harold.

“It’s full sized.” She tells him. “Just as many production tanks as with The Vishanyan. But instead of finding their own purpose they developed a cult like need to serve properly. A religion of service and waiting for a proper master that grew and grew until...”

She trails off, uncomfortable.

“How bad is it?”

“The four girls in that ship were neural clamped and sent on a suicide mission because they expressed doubt. Not even verbally. They just hesitated a little too much to obey.” Rain explains.

“So, we have an entire society of abuse victims that made things worse for themselves in their isolation.” Harold asks.

“It’s... haunting. We were so close to being these women.” Rain half whispers.

“And the implants? What are their opinion on those?”

“Punishment for failure. Many of the Vish higher ups are closer to mad zealots rather than commanding officers, they’re think they’re infinitely replaceable. That their entire lives are worthless unless they serve.”

“Rain...”

“They’ve tried to commit suicide because they were captured. It wasn’t even a spur of the moment decision, we gave them time to think and they tried breaking their own necks!” Rain says in a horrified tone.

“So what you’re saying is that it’s going to take a lot of work to get through to them.” Harold says.

“It’s just... so against the Vishanyan and...” Rain starts to say and comes up short. “It’s just... wrong.”

“And there’s an entire branch of your species that has been so abused.” Harold notes. “I trust you’re well motivated?”

“Oh yes. It... the news is passing through the Vishanyan. No one’s happy about this.”

“Good. I’d have questions and concerns if anyone was happy about this.” Harold notes.

“Goodness, I imagine it must be much like being a designer child to be in the position of your species Young Officer.” Orchid notes.

“We were never that well cared for.”

“I did use the word much. No doubt you were never treated as a prize. But I can relate to being regarded as a thing.” Orchid says.

“Oh I... I never felt it personally, but it’s... it’s something deep in what it means to be Vishanyan. We were made to be owned and now own ourselves.” She explains and he nods.

“Cultural or personal. A scar is a scar, so long as you’re willing to heal and move on, then that’s that.” Orchid says amiably.

“Sir, we have potential contacts in the next system.”

“Details?” Harold asks.

“Too soon to tell. Either one really big thing or a collection of smaller things. It’s orbiting a tiny planet well out of the green zone.”

“Sir, legal documents state that the system’s proper name is Kaploosha Ornak and that planet is Kaploosha Ornak three.”

“Why would this small, out of the way system have such a name?” Orchid asks.

“Typo and either an idiot or poorly implemented VI sir. Kaplusha is actually Kah Ploosh Sha. Or Three Nine One in a mildly uncommon Horchka language. In the same language Ornak means poor. So following proper gramatical format in that language this is the Poor System Three Nine One.”

“So a minor system and the only thing of interest is a typo in it’s registration where the name didn’t get properly translated when catalogued.” Harold notes. “And now there is a large signature surrounding it’s third world. What are the other two?”

“All three worlds are barren rocks. One is far too close to the star to be of use to anyone. The second has an irregular orbit and is only in the green zone for two months of the year, separate months by the way, and neither atmosphere nor enough gravity to keep one. The third is the most stable, but it’s only got trace elements and so little in the way of atmosphere that you’re still subject to severe decompression if you’re out without a suit. It’s more an oversized moon than a proper planet, and even then, not really. Just a dusty rock.”

“Hmm... then why is someone interested in it?” Harold asks.

“Could be a number of reasons sir, the remoteness of the region would play well to it as a strength. Safety through obscurity exists.” Orchid offers.

“Hmm... we’ll know more as we get closer. Best case scenario it’s a pirate base with way more balls than brains, most boring it’s an old refuse patch, the out of the way world being used to store debris you’d get in trouble for dumping too close to a civilized system is not uncommon.”

“Am I the only one amused that you want to find pirates?”

“Experience for our gunners and pilots, loot and possible intel without warning the enemy forces of our approach. Win, win, win.” Harold explains his reasoning and Orchid lets out a bark of laughter. “Not to mention...”

He gives Rain a sympathetic look.

“I think our Vishanyan allies and officers need some time to process what the Vish truly are like before facing them again.”

“I’m fine!” Rain says.

“I know you can handle it, but just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should be eager for it. The Vish are an unpleasant truth for the Vishanyan, and the more time to get used to it you have, the better you will be able to deal with them.” Harold says.

“Sir?” A voice comes from the armrest of his command couch. He presses the now glowing button.

“Yes?”

“This is Doctor Hallwen on The RAD, if you could come down here sooner rather than later. We have something to show you.”

Harold gives Orchid a look and the man nods.

“I’m on my way.” Harold states as he rises up. “Rain, do you want to come with me or stay on the bridge?”

“I only look like a teenager, I don’t need-”

“They’ve been breaking down the components of the Vish ship.” He cuts her off.

“I’m going with you.” She says.

“Alright then, away we go.” He says as he heads to a nearby panel. “And it’s time for the Inconceivable to beam two over.”

“What?” Rain asks before they’re both pulled away in a teleport.

“... Was that a human reference I missed?” Orchid asks of the now snickering Helmsman.

“Yes, yes it was.”

“Well don’t keep me in suspense, what was it about?”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (The RAM, Just outside the Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

“Sir. Officer Rain... perhaps you should.”

“No. Whatever’s happening to the Vish, I need to know.” Rain says.

“Alright. We’ve managed to piece back together numerous items and recovered several data drives and the like from the ruins of the Vish Ship. One of which...”

“What’s wrong?”

“Direct orders and a specialized Neural Clamp sir. We’ve destroyed them, but basically they had an entire shelf of Neural clamps that they had direct orders to install... or rather force someone into a machine that forcibly installs a Neural Clamp. Very, very long story short, these women interrogate by removing the ability to even think about lying or staying silent. Those are the two thoughts they block.”

“... Thank god they’re still stupid. There are ways around that.” Harold says.

“Sir?!”

“Speak truthfully about other subjects. It’ll buy you time, but if they’ve already got a Neural Clamp on you... it’s pretty much over anyways. You need to think around them. Or think in term to get around it to get around it.”

“There is no way in fuck you have experience with these things.” Rain states before taking a breath. “That was too harshly said. I...”

“You’re upset. It’s reasonable.” Harold assures her. “Do we have to flag the system we took down their ship in? Do we have all the clamps?”

“The clamps were in a reinforced containment unit. The files we have state that it was so that they wouldn’t accidentally be damaged. We’ve destroyed all of them and reused the material to serve as handles and other such things in the next ship to be built. The only thing we even thought of keeping was the rather well made, well padded and well reinforced containment unit. But we recalled your orders about enemy ship components and have completely melted down and then recast it after our studies. There is zero chance that we’ll be tracked through them and no way that bastardized automatic surgery table and the neural clamps will ever be used to violate someone again.”

“... Again?”

“There was dried blood on the blades of the table. Unfortunately even the brief exposure to the void and the time it’s clearly had to decay has destroyed any real hint at who it was beyond the most basic details, being that it’s mammalian blood.” The Doctor says and Harold growls a little in the back of his throat as he considers. “And before your ask, no, we haven’t unscrambled the damaged data drives enough to tell who or when it happened.”

“Pity. Still, the fact that they have such a monstrous interrogation method is nothing to sneeze at. Even to an expertly trained soldier that kind of obstacle is nothing to sneeze at.”

“How do you know anything about clamps?”

“Personally? I know nothing. But I’ve read about previous encounters. I’ve studied the monstrous things. I’ve also been thinking about putting together a program to teach our soldiers how to disable the damn things without hurting the poor person with the things inside them. Which is a tall order as they’re clamped around the spinal cord and interfaced directly with the nervous system.”

“Oh, alright. Sorry this is...”

“I know.” Harold says. “Anything else doctor?”

“There are unusual differences and metal balances between the Vishanyan used Stealth Plating and the Vish used Stealth plating. Not by much. We suspect differing forging techniques. We’re in the process of testing the two against each other, so far the Vish methodology seems to be more efficient.”

“How much is a bit?”

“Five percent, or rather four point eight three five percent.” The Doctor says.

“Not much for small scale use, but if producing at scale then it’s considerably better.”

“Is there a downside?’

“Only that you need to pay more attention during the Vish method against the Vishanyan ones. Oh! And the panels have a mildly different appearance when seen with the naked eye. This way please.”

He leads them into a testing chamber where two large panels, each one a metre across height and length wise and two centimetres thick, are being tested.

“I know that panel.” Rain says walking up to be closer to the left one. But she sees the safety line taped onto the floor and stays behind it. The dark panel almost looks like a solar panel and has a glossy sheen to it. The other one is less shiny, more absorbent of light and energy.

“... The polish has purpose though.” Rain says after a little bit. There are a pair of slowly increasing hydraulic pressures being applied the centre of both panels.

“And that purpose is?”

“It prevents the accumulation of space dust, debris and the like Run a current over the glass and you can clean the outside of the panel in moments.”

“Hunh, so much for using it as punishment detail.” Harold notes and Rain cackles.

“Oh no! It gets plenty of use! You see, just because we’re entirely certain that the current will clean the panel, doesn’t mean we’re certain. So the punishment detail isn’t cleaning them, but inspecting them. All of them. In proper order.” Rain answers.

“Gone through the punishment yourself?” Harold asks.

“Everyone has. Teaches patience and discipline, but I also had the privilege of handing it out a few times.” She answers happily.

“So the differences between these panels are...” Harold begins to ask then pauses as he hears something.

“Are?” The doctor asks and Harold holds up a finger before pointing to the panels just before the glossy coat on the Vishanyan panel begins to crack. Then moments later both panels abruptly fail and snap in half. A few small pieces of debris hit the safety barrier and The Doctor rushes up to the instruments.

“Same tensile strength. Slightly more efficient stealth and quicker build time on the Vish panel, and that was easier maintenance on the Vishanyan one?” He asks Rain.

“We’ll have to check two intact panels against each other, but it should be.”

“We have more. And I’ll thank you for any insight you can bring us. Your people, while allies, are still fairly tight lipped about things out of sheer reflex.”

“Sorry, we’re a stealth species.”

“I’ve got Cloaken Sisters, I get it.”

First Last

First

Home at War

“Bridge Crew! I see the ship is still intact after a half hour unsupervised. Keep this up and we’ll be breaking records for discipline and good sense.” Harold announces as he arrives back on the bridge with Orchid in tow.

“There’s no way in hell we’ve broken records.”

“On The Inevitable we have.” Harold replies cheekily and there is some good natured chuckling. “Crew! This is Lieutenant Orchid, he will be in command when I am not present, think of him as the diplomacy to my raving battle lunacy.”

“Battle Lunacy Sir?” Orchid asks.

“I literally want to go out and fight all the enemy army myself.” Harold says.

“Yes, we will to temper that, goodness.” Orchid notes.

“Okay what the hell? Does command around here mean winning a few beauty contests or something?” One of the Lagos brothers demands.

“Well that leaves you out Nate!”

“Bro, we’re near damn identical.”

“Yeah, but the differences are the good ones for me.” The Furred Rabbis says to his unfurred brother. Nate looks towards Harold and Orchid and then back to his sibling. “Shut up.”

Nate just gives him a cheeky grin.

“Okay, that’s quite enough gentlemen. Yes, I am Commodore Harold’s second in command for controlling this vessel, and I have been instructed to bring up more peaceful solutions that his eagerness for battle will miss.”

“If the needs call for it due to the requirement of commanding the entire fleet, then Lieutenant Orchid may get a full promotion to Captain and he will then select his own lieutenant. However as the fleet is currently still rather small I can take a hands on approach for The Inconceivable. Any questions?”

“Why lieutenant rank and not Commander?”

“Because he will be in charge of this ship and crew with me jointly, but he will not have rank to pull on the leaders of the platoons that will be moving with us. It’s a security measure that will likely never be needed. But all security rules and safety instructions are written in blood, so we follow them. Any other questions?”

“... Seriously, why are there so many guys in The Undaunted that look like they stepped out of a porno mag?” One of the Lagos Vrothers asks. “I mean, we’re not ugly, but we’re normal guys here. You two look like you’re off billboards or out of a porno.”

“Seen a lot of pronos?” Harold asks.

“I have sisters, they have WEIRD ideas.”

“... Well that leads to a whole mess of questions I’m not sure should be asked, but to answer your question, prettier guys tend to have really, really confined and controlled lives. It drives them to distraction and they look for a way out. The Undaunted is about the cleanest and most legal escape available in the galaxy to date.” Harold replies. “And that’s on the lower end of things. A good chunk of our recruits have come out of illegal cloning programs and escaping such situations. To say nothing of young men who have been bio-augmented or surgically altered to be the most beautiful they could be according to the fetish of the people controlling them.”

“And you sir?”

“Weird ass family history. A lot of the children would ‘disappear’ until we turned thirteen then we would get an increasingly powerful Ode ability that camouflages us. Think of us as the human equivalent to a Cloaken, but instead of looking like other people or being see through we look insanely boring. And under it is someone good looking enough that they’re actively in danger because of it. Make sense?”

“You don’t look boring sir, you look intense.”

“I’ve mastered the ability enough to turn it off. Much like a Cloaken or Vishanyan choosing to let themselves be seen, I am doing the same.” Harold says.

“Alright, so heading sir?”

“We’re not going anywhere until The RAM is finished slavaging the rest of the ship. Which is looking like what sensors?” Harold asks and there is a bit of movement.

“... Twenty percent of the debris remains.”

“Any alerts about issues, minor or otherwise?”

“Most of the vessel’s engine area has been thoroughly shattered, and shattered into truly tiny pieces. They predict that they won’t be able to regain all the parts of the engines of the ship.”

“Interesting. So that would mean the explosion likely started there, or the detonation caused other parts of the ship near the engine to detonate further.” Harold notes as he moves into his command couch and Orchid takes the secondary command couch. Just as comfortable but not as central.

The door to the bridge opens.

“Uh... bad news Sir.” Rain says.

“The prisoners aren’t talking?”

“No, they’re... they’re in a state. We’ve revived all but one of them now and the last one was apparently being starved and is on the drip.” Rain says. “The girls... they all think they’re property. That they don’t even deserve their own names and... we did get something out of them.”

“What?”

“They were knowingly on a suicide mission. They were not surprised their ship exploded. They have not elaborated further.” Rain says in a strained tone.

“Really? Hmm... Rain, can you inform the Vishanyan that I’d like them to steer what questions they do ask into how to identify these suicide missions? They’re most likely the ships that will need top priority for rescue as I would put good money on them also having bombs on them. Or more likely, have their ordinance primed to go off. But what was the signal? It didn’t go off when the team entered the bridge, we were in their systems and detected nothing. Meaning it was on another system, perhaps even a closed one. The explosion came from the aft of the ship so likely one of their own mines, or multiple. But what set them off? If it wasn’t intruders, was it a lack of Vish at their post?” Harold muses then glances over the bridge. He coughs a little. “Oh sorry.”

“Oh no Commodore, that was good.” Orchid assures him.

“Hey, Lieutenant Orchid sir, why were you late?”

“An assignment that should have been wrapped up three hours ago decided to get complicated literal seconds before I could hand it off. Leading into a merry chase over Centris after a Lightning Erumenta who had been smuggling Axiom Endowed weapons and found out that the last article he had was a cognito hazard.”

“Shit! What happened?”

“His frame contorted with muscles and the skin on his hands suddenly became leathery so he could swing the thing like an expert and he went berserk in melee. I grabbed a well built weapon from his own store that he and I had both confirmed as merely having reinforcement and protective qualities and gave chase to stop him from running into a crowd of civilians and leaving a wake of dismembered bodies and blood.”

“So you were stuck corralling the idiot until you could get the thing away from him?” Harold asks.

“Essentially. But there was also the complication that however that sword was designed it was growing more and more in synch with him and seemed to be actively learning. Any Axiom trick used against him was mirrored so just overwhelming him with speed or power was off the table. And letting that blade touch anyone was out of the question. It was also too sharp and made him too strong to redirect it into the buildings, vehicles or the floor of the spire. I tried all of them and he just wrenched it out with ease. Barely slowed him down.”

“Well you clearly won, and without harm no less. So how did you do that?”

“I managed to bait them to trying to attack me midair, but as a Snict I am capable of flight so I had much, much more leverage, maneuverability and more in the air. And once we began freefall fighting, it was over for them. The sword style they were using was incredibly stance based.”

“Most, if not all are.”

“Yes well, he had no solution to midair combat. And no method to get leverage or proper angles of combat while falling. I used that, and some encouraging pain. To bladelock him and use the angled guard of my sword to wrench his out of his hands. Then I got it away from people as my backup caught the fool and an Adept arrived with the latest in Cognito Hazard containment. Which is to say completely encase it in Trytite and Lead then into a steel container.”

“You sure it was fully sealed?” Nate asks.

“They were molten, the adept was using the heat from the lead to make the trytite soft enough to just slather it all over the sword and then threw it into the steel container. If anyone wants to be affected by it, for some insane reason, then they’ll need something like a hull cutter, and enough precision to not accidentally destroy the sword, if it can be destroyed so easily. It certainly seemed tough as all hell when that fool was using it on me, or rather trying to.” Orchid explains.

“Interesting, anything else?”

“They were screaming Highlander quotes at me. Not that it’s hard to understand why though.”

“... Why?”

“They were a fan of the movies. The preferred the second one the most. I’m not sure I agree with him.” Orchid says...

“... Okay, I’ll need to watch those movies to see what you’re talking about.” Harold notes.

“... You haven’t seen them?” Orchid asks.

“No, it’s basically impossible for any human alive to have gone through all human media.” Harold replies. “What are the Highlander movies about?”

“... Immortal Swordsmen fighting one another. I thought it relevant when I heard about the mission parameters and watched all the main movies in short order.”

“Why are they fighting if they’re immortal?” Harold asks.

“There’s a great prize if they’re the last immortal standing. IN the first movie. It changes in each following one.” Orchid explains.

“And how are these immortals killed?”

“Decapitation.”

“... Hmm... Haffara Thar are a little more thorough than that, but I do like the initiative in looking for ways to kill immortals.” Harold says.

“Thank you sir.” Orchid says as he relaxes a bit into his command chair and begins browsing through the innumerable tiny updates a ship of any size has at any moment. The salvaging comes to an end and The RAM locks back into The Inconceivable.

“Only Ninety percent of the vessel salvaged. The engines shattered fairly badly, we can sweep the system with more powerful magnets, but that is well beyond the threshold of diminishing returns.” Harold reads out loud. “Alright then, time to move on. I’m inputting our next coordinates.”

“All ships. This is Commodore Jameson, we’re done with this system. It’s time to move on. We’re going to hit two more systems close to our original logged route to see if we can’t find more goodies to play with. If not, then we’re going to head to more mineral rich systems in order to start up-arming the fleet further. Are there any concerns?”

There are none so the entire fleet starts heading out.

“By the way, if the enemy knows we’re on the way... why are we still being called The Ambush Fleet?”

“Comedy I think. It also means that we’re Plan A to use human terminologies.” Harold says.

“It seems a little inelegant.” Orchid notes.

“It’s a taunt, we always knew that we would likely have this plan discovered. So by calling it plan ambush we send them down spirals of they know we know and force them to not only split their forces, but split their forces into a direction that has half the galaxy in it and they don’t know exactly which way they’re coming from. Meaning they have to choose between diverting increasing amount of resources and troop power from the front lines in La’ahbaron to find and face us, or disregard us as a threat and take our initial strike in full. Either choice is a losing proposition for the enemy.”

“... Hmm... that’s... outright strategic. Your idea?”

“Admiral Cistern, while he’s an artist with logistics, his skill in grand strategy is at a level where he has a reputation for being unbeaten and unbeatable back on Earth.”

“Is he?”

“No, but he’s very, very well practised and both flexible enough and cunning enough to counter everything we run into and to turn his own counters into traps. Which is what we are. A massive trap.” Harold says.

“... What if they’re trying to counter it?”

“Well... the most likely counter to what we’re doing is to have tracers or trackers in the ships so that we end up picking up a beacon that tracks us. Which is why my orders are to have everything categorized, then every single part recycled. Which will destroy any tracer of any sort. So we just get more metal, plastics and silica than we had before.”

“But they’ll be able to trace our movements still.”

“Which is why if I get any whiff of that happening, I’m going to start rolling dice to randomize things. It’s hard to track us if we completely change our patterns and just go randomly from system to system.”

“And they would have to expend more and more forces and resources to try and figure out where we’re coming from.”

“And now you get it.” Harold says.

“I do.”

First Last

First

Home at War

The sounds of the medical bay are not encouraging as he enters.

“She’s crashing!”

“Heartbeat irregular! She’s going into shock.”

“Her implants are going wild!”

The tang of a laser going off brings a scream as a doctor is nicked by the implanted weapon. Harold begins to move and uses his hands to cover the erratically firing implants to give the doctors some shielding.

“Thank you sir!” The winged Vishanyan medic says.

“If I ever find who put these horrors into these girls I’m going to install a shunt into their neck and use them as a punching bag!” Another hisses out as she slowly untangles the connections from the clamp to the poor Vish’s spine. “And you! Your clumsy soldiers nearly caused as much damage as the clamps themselves by breaking them like they did!”

“I’m not going to have my soldiers sacrifice themselves when I can see them survive.” Harold responds. “My duties are to The Undaunted first and foremost, and while it is preferred to take the enemy alive for numerous reasons, including those of justice and mercy, they are still secondary to my forces.”

The doctor does not answer with words but with a growl. However her work bears fruit and the bloody implant is placed into a bowl nearby as the prosthetist moves out of the way of the surgeon who begins with a quick scan on the nerves, and whatever she read she then starts using a bone gel that rapidly hardens to fill in the cracks and damages of the spinal column and quickly places a patch of artificial skin over the wound.

“Clear here!” Another doctor announces as Harold hears the clatter of a Neural Clamp hitting a bowl. He removes his hands as the unconscious Vish is no longer firing her implanted weapons over and over again.

“Safe!”

“She’s still crashing!” The doctors with the last one cry out and Harold moves. There is movement around them but he gets a hand through. He feels the Axiom, then feels beyond.

The doctors gasp as his facial markings glow brightly and light pours out of his eyes. There are clattering sounds and the smell of even more blood as the implants are ejected from the suddenly healthy and unblemished Vish even as Harold’s blood falls to the floor as massive jagged wounds erupt over his body. He steps away and begins noticeably pulling on the Axiom. His wounds close, but the blood and the stains it has left remains.

“What was that?!” One of the doctors demands.

“Ode, much more powerful than Axiom, but it has a hefty price.” He notes as he scans the room and gives a rueful chuckle. “Looks like using it in scarcely inhabited systems is even more dangerous. I can’t even see through the damn things.”

“You’ve been blinded?!”

“No. But I can see things others can’t. Including the things that tore me apart for using Ode. And there are so many here now, that I can’t see through them.” Harold says as he holds out his right hand and slowly the blood he shed is collected into a single hand, leaving his clothing and removing the stains. The blood then congeals, boils and burns away to ash without any smoke being released. He carries the remains of his own shed blood to a bio-hazard disposal container and puts the ashes in there.

“Can you use that Ode again?”

“Not if I want to live. The Astral Hargath, while harmless on our side of the equation, are ravenous predators when Ode is introduced. They can travel into it physically and devour anything they find on that side.” He says as he moves his head a bit. “Sorry about the odd movement, I’m trying to see through the swarm we’re in.”

“Are we in danger?”

“No, if you don’t use Ode outside of natural gifts, then you’re fine. I can still use my natural gifts even now, but if I try to use Ode like Axiom, the Hargath take a bite. So none of you need worry.”

“Natural gift?”

“An Ode variant of the Vishanyan natural talents. It can also be reversed to make me unignorable. Which means I can serve as a flawless distraction when needed.” Harold explains. “Did she just twitch?”

What attention he had is taken by the Vish he had healed as the woman is indeed moving. Her form shudders for a moment and then she goes still. Then her hands begin slowly patting herself down as if in disbelief. Then with her hands shaking she runs them along her hood and find only healthy skin and no implants, the doctors had pulled away the implants after Harold’s trick had forced them out of her body, she grasps the back of her neck where the Neural Clamp was and audibly gasps.

Her eyes snap open even as Harold shifts his head to look between the slowly dispersing Hargath and he sees her look around. Fear pouring into her Axiom presence like a flood. Her eyes are wide now as she stares at them all.

“How are you feeling? Is there any remaining pain? We nearly lost you and had to resort to...”

“Exotic Techniques.” Harold supplies in the gap of the doctor’s explanation.

“Yes, an exotic technique. Is there any pain? Discomfort? Unusual hunger or thirst?” She presses.

“Who are you? What’s your designation?”

“I am Doctor Crew, with me are...”

“What is your decantation number? What series and ship?”

“Experimental Medical Pod One, Station Twenty Nine Decarune, no number.” Harold says. The room turns to him. “What?”

“I forgot you were cloned.” One of the doctors admits and he shrugs.

“I’m probably the youngest person in the room by a wide margin. Likely on the whole ship.”

“We’re being led by a baby.” One of them bemoans dramatically and he chuckles.

“You’re not Vish are you?” The Vish demands.

“Vishanyan, free...”

“There are no Free Born Vish. We exist to serve.”

“My daughter doesn’t.” Harold says quickly.

“What?”

“My daughter Miracle. First natural born Vishanyan. Hatched from an egg. Adorable little pink thing, very cuddly.”

“That... no. You at most adopted a Vish and...”

“That’s Rain.”

“What?”

“The Vishanyan I adopted. She’s serving as a Junior officer. Currently she’s busy getting further Vishanyan forces to assist with yourself and your fellows.” Harold says and he can see her mental processes trying to reboot. She’s completely off balance. “I am Commodore Harold Jameson. You are on my ship, The Inconceivable, in one of the medical bays.”

“... What’s going on?”

“You are a former slave soldier that we’ve captured and removed the implants from. You will be remanded to the custody of the Vishanyan Peoples for deprogramming and re-naturalization.”

“What?!”

“Ma’am, your part in the war is over. This...”

“No! I am not going to abandon my sisters or my mistress! I belong to them I am-” She begins to rant and one of the doctors starts to move before the Vish grabs at thigns around her to use as a weapon and finds her formerly implanted fangs.

The pastel green doctor swats the improvised weapon out of her hand and then catches the flailing fist of the pastel blue Vish. She quickly puts the other woman in a hold as the Vish thrashes. But the Doctor is practised and skilled in this.

“That’s more than enough of that! This is a medical chamber! You will not bring violence in her whatsoever if you want to lash out then take it out of this room!” The Doctor reprimands even as the door to the medical chamber opens again.

“What is going on?” Admiral Longitude demands as she walks in followed by Rain and an Apuk Battle Princess Harold is unfamiliar with.

“Perfect timing Admiral Ma’am.” Harold says. “Our first of four has already awoken and is not taking the idea of being Vishanyan over Vish all that well.”

“I’d imagine not.” Longitude says. “It was an enormous change for me, and I was already primed to it as the first Vishanyan and one with a more engineering mindset.”

She walks directly up. Ths struggling Doctor and pinned patient. “Let her go.”

“Am I missing something?” Harold whispers to Rain as the doctor lets the patient go and she moves to attack and is paused by a harsh look from Longitude.

“Didn’t you get the message?” Rain asks and Harold checks his communicator. There’s an unread message. He quickly thinks about the displayed time and has a rueful smile.

“I was in the process of being torn apart by Hargath for healing our energetic Vish here.” Harold notes.

“Vishanyan, The Admiralty has pushed it through that all Vish are to be recognized as Vishanyan instead and subject to Vishanyan laws. Which state all Vish are to be deprogrammed immediately and placed in observation to ensure they are not a danger to themselves or others.” Rain whispers to him.

“Really? Well so long as we get kept up to date on any intelligence that tumbles out during deprogramming there shouldn’t be an issue.” Harold notes.

“You’re not going to interrogate them?” Rain asks in a pointedly loud tone. Harold knows what she’s doing, and plays into it.

“Their Neural Clamped Slave Soldiers. That doesn’t imply a lot of trust on the part of their master. If they have any information it will likely be how much they secretly hate their dread masters and how most are performing loyalty to the point that telling the genuinely fanatically loyal from the fakers is nearly impossible.” He says. “Not to mention, interrogations are generally pointless to begin with. At least the ones centred around pain and torment.”

“What do you want!?” The Vish demands.

“We want the sadistic monster that Neural Clamped you to answer for their crimes.” Harold says.

“What crimes?”

“Neural Clamping someone is a crime.” Longitude states.

“But we’re product not people.”

“You are a person and deserve to be treated like one.” Longitude says before scanning the room theatrically. “Why are you the first to recover?”

“I... I don’t know?” The Vish, or perhaps Vishanyan now, answers.

“My doing ma’am. I made use of Ode to perform a healing technique as she began crashing. Unfortunately the local Hargath saturation is so high now that if I attempt it on the other three I’ll be torn apart more or less instantaneously.” Harold answers. “Still, if you’re here to claim the young lady I won’t stop you, but I must insist that you get her off my ship as soon as reasonably possible. Deprogramming takes time and until your finished she may turn hostile. An enemy inside the gates is many times more dangerous than one in the field.”

“Yes, that is reasonable.” Admiral Longitude answers before the door opens again.

“Sir, Lieutenant Orchid has arrived.” A voice says and Harold turns, then smirks.

“That being you.” Harold says to the Snict man who’s carapace on his insectoid limbs are pale pink and white with only a hint of the common green as accent.

“That it would.”

“Orchid? That’s not a Snict name.” Longitude notes. “That sounds like a human word.”

“It is ma’am, I am one of the more... refugee or runaway style men in The Undaunted. In my former name and life I was the prize of my mother turned wife’s collection. She had me specifically gene spliced and then groomed to serve as her display piece and plaything. Unfortunately for her, many of the genetic strains that bring about handsome Snict men also bring about strong ones and I have been fighting for my freedom my whole life. The Undaunted have given me the opportunity for not only combat training, but to put an entire government between myself and her.”

“And you got a leadership position because?”

“Because a lifetime spent pleasing people and making them happy means I’ve gotten a great deal of practice mediating conflict and keeping people focused. Coupled with some training courses and I was a shoe in for command.”

“He’s also a very skilled melee combatant, which is important to me as I am very aware of just how dangerous someone infiltrating the ship can be, and someone who can close the distance and cause ruinous harm in an instant is invaluable.”

“Yes, I didn’t quite know what to think when I was approved under ‘knife fighting skills’ for the position.”

“Knife, blade, whatever. We’ve both got edged weapons.” Harold notes holding up his sword a touch from where it’s belted to his side and then placing it back where it belongs. “Anyways Lieutenant Orchid, meet Junior Officer Rain, my daughter and one of our primary liaisons between ourselves and the Vishanyan, Admiral Longitude the supreme commander of the Vishanyan people and their recommended doctors for de-clamping and beginning the process of healing the enemy forces.”

“A pleasure.” Orchid says.

“Now, Admiral Longitude, I’m going to leave you to the care of your people. Orchid, you’re with me, it’s time to introduce you to the bridge crew.”

First Last

First

(My god damn neighbors, I can feel the damn music they’re playing even with my headphones on!)

Before the War

“Damn...” Rain breathes out as she sees the entire superstructure. True, a space station or the larger warships will dwarf it, but the massive ship has been put together fast. Over just a single week. The techniques and tricks that enabled it’s rapid creation had sped up as more and more were discovered. Lights were coming on as the massive vessel was getting it’s wiring finished even as The Sabre flies directly into a newly created cargo-bay. One that closes the door behind them, then another layer of doors for reinforcement.

The massive ship has a slight scent of electrical systems and metal. There is the sound of an airlock door opening, further redundancies to ensure that any damage on the vessel would be easily contained and worked around. Emerging out the Airlock is Harold with a smirk.

“They went with my recommendations! This is going to be great.”

“Of course they did, why wouldn’t they?” Rain asks.

“They were asking a lot of questions about things. Asking why I would want or need something. I figured they might not actually go through with it and leave it for a later upgrade.” Harold notes.

“Such as?” Rain asks and he gestures for her to come closer as he heads to the nearby wall and pulls at the maintenance panel. It swings out and he taps the back. As Rain gets closer she feels it first. The entire panel has a slight hum of energy and she can sense that it’s designed to resist attack.

“The panels are cover for a shootout in the ship?” Rain asks. “But wouldn’t the defensive fields around the panels hide a person sneaking through?”

“Nope, check it out.” He says closing the panel. “Try opening it.”

She does. It does not move. The handle shifts in the indent, but it stays locked. She gives it a few yanks to be totally sure and then looks back to him.

“What am I missing?” She asks and he holds his right arm near the door.

“Try again.” He tells her and she opens it with ease.

“Security key in your uniform?”

“Bracelet actually.” He says pulling up his sleeve and revealing the ring of metal around his wrist.

“What if I steal it?” She asks and he pulls it off and holds it out to her. She takes it, puts it on, and then tries and fails to open the panel. “DNA encrypted?”

“Yes ma’am, granted with how many identical clone siblings I have it’s not a perfect defence by any metric, but it’s why we also need passwords for some areas.”

“What about emergencies?” Rain asks as she takes off the bracelet and he takes it back and shows off a small button on it. “Emergency override? Can that be abused?”

“Yes, but it sets off an alarm that there’s an emergency in the area. Which kinda defeats the point for people trying to infiltrate the ship.” He says.

“Smart.” Rain admits.

“I’m glad you think so. This is being recorded as part of the on-boarding training for The Inconceivable. I managed to get a lot of quality of life and emergency systems packed into the ship. And a few of my ideas were denied and I had to deny some ideas from the engineers and mechanics putting this girl together.”

“Why are you referring to the ship as female?”

“Human tradition, I do not know where or why it started.” Harold answers. “Anyways, would you like to continue the instructional tour?”

“Sure.” Rain says and he leads her out of the docking bay. He then points to the walls and there are strips of colour dead centre in each. At three metre intervals they suddenly have triangles incorporated into them as if to point the way. “Guides?”

“Exactly. Keep following blue and you’ll find the bridge. Red heads to the nearest medical facility, yellow goes to restrooms and the black line will lead to the nearest access panel where you can request information about where in the ship you are. Everything a guest or someone getting used to the ship needs.” He explains then shifts his pointing from where the roof meets the left wall to where it meets the right. “Brown heads to the escape pods, purple the engines, and the striped white and black line leads to the nearest reinforced bunker room. If the ship is boarded and you’re not ready to fight, get to a bunker room.”

“If a hostile learns this then they’ll have an easy time navigating the ship.”

“That’s the price we pay for proper clarity during a dangerous scenario. If I’m telling people where to go, then I want them to get there as soon as possible and without anything in the way of excuses. Which also means if someone’s claiming to be lost we can call them on the bluff right away.”

“You make it sound like you expect civilians in here.”

“At the moment no. But this ship also has room to perform rescue operations and as the central control point of the fleet, if civilians are going to end up anywhere, it’s in here.” He explains. “Now, lets get to the transport basics, we have three primary ways of getting around. The internal corridor that runs up and down the spine of the ship as seen in The Dauntless and The Inevitable. But to get there. We have three primary methods. First is knowing your way around and just walking. We have gravity lifts that allow us to reorient ourselves safely from one orientation to the next. Or if you’re willing to stomach it, you can use the emergency ladders and tunnels up and down. But shifting gravity fields is not the most pleasant of sensations, especially if you have the more complete and robust internal organs that humans do.”

“And the other ways?”

“We have a teleport system.” Harold states.

“... Why?”

“The ship is big. The Ship is also experimental and very, very much a boundary pusher. We have inbuilt teleportation arrays linked to each other at each panel. However they are deactivated and resist reactivation unless properly accessed via the panel. But with proper aspect, you can go from any one panel to another.”

“And what’s stopping a skilled teleporter from just bouncing around the ship?” Rain asks.

“The ship has armour plating that has, in places, trytite based plates integrated. Someone trying ot teleport onto the ship is going to hit a wall and end up somewhere unfriendly. Even the airlock doors have inter-spaced trytite panels.”

“... To block in teleportation, but still let in the Axiom around them.”

“Exactly, it’s like a form of plate armour called brigantine. Where instead of one solid plate, it’s many plates working as one. Perhaps not as protective, but much more flexible.” He says. “This way we get to keep our ship mostly impervious to outside Axiom attacks, without losing our own power source.”

“What about through the engines?”

“They need the most power and as such, have the biggest gaps in the trytite. But, there is no straight shot into the ship. A hostile teleportation will need to take their time and map out where the trytite panels are to get in, meanwhile we have linked beacons to allow nearly perfect response time inside the ship itself.”

“What’s the last option?”

“There are going to be small carts and such. But we’re prioritizing getting everything else done. Besides, that’s more for when we have some civilians around.”

“How about something else?”

“Such as?”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (The Inconceivable Bridge, Between Systems)•-•-•

“And that’s the end of it. For now.” Harold says as he leads Rain into the Bridge.

“... You know it’s not really living up to it’s name.” Rain notes.

“Oh?” Harold asks.

“This is just a standard, if very new ship bridge. I can conceive of that fairly easily.” Rain notes and he chuckles.

“Then it’s like how inflammable can mean flammable.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” He answers. “Now my crew! You’ve had some time to get used to the controls up here. I’m uploading now to all crew a short demonstration I just made with Junior Officer Unending Rain of Retribution to explain numerous ins and outs of the vessel and a general tour. Please review it at your convenience. Helmsman, how are your controls feeling?”

Three pairs of hands flit over the controls as the Desert Nagasha man grins. His warpaint had been stylized after his own skull and he turns back to smile.

“Very responsive Commodore sir. I’m mildly concerned that the men and women who take the shift during my downtime won’t have the level of skill as I do, but that should say everything that needs to be said about the control scheme.”

“Do you see a dial on the bottom left of the panel?” Harold asks.

“Yes sir.”

“What number is it turned to?”

“Three sir.”

“Dial it back to two and then one to get a good look at the control schemes for pilots with less arms than yourself.” Harold says and The Helmsman shifts his controls twice before turning them back.

“This seems like a potential issue sir. Damage to this system might cause complications.” The Helmsman says.

“Opposite of the dial is a latch. Lift it.” Harold commands him and the Helmsman’s hand runs across the front of the control panel until he finds the latch. It’s then lifted and the entire panel is lifted. “Those are the emergency overrides. Direct manual control of the ship. Short of manually engaging the engines in proper sequence they are the most direct and indisputable controls of the ship. They are however, crude and lacking the fine control or ergonomic comfort of the standard controls.”

The Helmsman lets out a lost whistle.

“Alright sir, I am officially out of concerns and outright impressed.” The Helmsman says.

“Very good Mister Rattler, now, Misters Smokewing, Scuttles, Glidearm and Recon. How are your stations? This ship is built around powerful sensors and information warfare, it behooves us to have a deep understanding of all our systems. Now in order, how are your stations?”

“Smokewing here.” The Fruit Sonir man says. “Our Axiom Sensors are at one hundred percent.”

“My station observes the numerous different wavelengths of light. The shortest range of all our sensors, but the most pinpoint accurate. I can see everything a full light second away in basic realtime.” The Leggy Wimparas Man says next.

“My station is at full functionality. We have the thermal, electromagnetic and radiation spectrum covered. Again, short range. But high precision. For example we have the vague remains of an old... very old solar flare moving through the outer edge of our range. Thankfully safely away from any ships, so it’s just a bit of thermal energy on the move as it’s liable to do.” Glidearm the Phinsara says with a salute that brings the side of his hand against the blindfold he’s wearing that matches the uniform he’s wearing.

“And I am both observing and hooked into our systems sir. I’m receiving and sorting chemical and laser scans up to five light minutes out. This system is seen.” Recon says with a salute of his synthetic arm.

“Good. Communications, you’re our main weapon. I want your yay or nay for whether the controls and seats we have for you are appropriate.”

Eighteen soldiers sound off their confirmations and he smiles.

“Gunners! All eight of you, how do you like your controls?” Harold asks.

“We’re ready to shoot down whole worlds sir!” The Rabbis Gunner declares. He and his brothers had signed up all at once and now The Lagos Siblings were eager to prove themselves as warriors despite the fact that they were Rabbis all and due to the genes of the family, of varying different breeds with only a father in common. Furred, unfurred, lopped and standing tall, they were from first to last eager to shoot anything that even looked at them crosseyed.

“Very good, Engineering, how are we looking?” Harold asks as he activates the comms.

“Sir, primary engines are humming. We’re ready.”

“Upper Secondary Engines ready.”

“Lower Secondary Engines standing by.”

“RAD Engines Primed, we’re fulling incorporated sir.

“RAM Engines Ready. Are we a go sir?”

“Lets find out. All Vessels This is The Inconceivable, are we go or no go?”

“Troop Transport and Resupply Vessel Bloody Heron, we are a go.” Jacob calls out.

“Hive Carriers, we’re ready sir.”

“Destined Victory, is a go.”

“Winding Spear, ready to go.”

“Glorious Queen, is go.”

“Serpent’s Judgment, go.”

“Heartpiercer is your final go sir. The Fleet is ready.”

“Then we move out! All ships! Match pace with The Inconceivable, we will be building our fleet now, and should the enemy arrive we will be blinding and breaking them before our lasers even warm up. Time to bring down the hammer.” Harold commands and The Inconceivable begins to move out.

The Hive Carriers are flanking around the massive ship with the five Primalist ships beyond them. Trailing behind is The Bloody Heron, hidden, somewhat, by the massive presence of The Inconceivable.

“To war.” Harold mutters to himself, an eagerness in his tone.

First Last

First

Before the War

“The loads on the last two systems was pathetic. What are we doing? A proper mining system would give enough material to front an entire fleet, especially with the incidental materials like khutha and the like being sourced through teleportation.” The Captain of The Destined Victory notes to her first mate. The Desert Nagasha generally had enough warpaint on her on a day to day basis that no one would think she was anything other than completely serious in all things.

“They weren’t mining systems, they were systems with confirmed metals in them. Nothing more.” The more scientific woman states. “In fact, they were registered as having nothing in the way of mining sites. So without a very deep and very thorough harvesting operation, which would take an enormous amount of time, we likely got a fairly large percentile of all the metals in those systems.”

“Maybe.”

“Doubts captain?” The Gravia woman asks.

“I was expecting something more... I don’t know, grand? Something grand from a living Saint.”

“Countering numerous kinetic stealth shots out of the black and a well placed booby trap with only a single lost drone and not so much as a bruise on our own forces, coupled with a rare phenomenon and new potential discoveries. I’m not sure what else you wanted. I mean, I suppose if had also stumbled upon an inexplicably abandoned mining station with full stores, no crew, no claimants, and a note stating that it was all free for the taking then it would have been better.”

“Alright, fine, but... hmm. I was expecting something more than lucky and cautious.” The Captain notes.

“Well we’re approaching the next system. We’ll see if his luck holds up.” Her First Officer notes.

“Captain, we have unknowns on the long range sensors.”

“Shields up, I want a better look at them before we fire.”

“Power down, it’s a mining guild.” Harold’s voice sounds out across the coms. “Give me a few minutes. This is an advantage, not a detriment.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Sabre Bridge, Edge of Current System)•-•-•

“Unknown mining fleet, this is Commodore Harold Jameson aboard The Sabre. It’s you lucky day, we’re in need of materials and are willing to pay full market price ahead of whatever schedule you have to get the resources you’ve collected. Please respond so we may open full negotiations.”

“... Commodore Jameson was it? This is the Lilri Mining Fleet, unfortunately a large percentile of our mined metals are already reserved for another party and we are contract bound not to part with them. However twenty percent of our current yields are up for sale. We are however very concerned about a military fleet, abliet a small one, showing up out of the black.”

“Lilri Mining Fleet, this is Commodore Jameson. I respect your willingness to stick to your contracts and am willing to negotiate for the remaining twenty percent of your current yields. Furthermore I will inform you that we are approaching a battlefield using novel techniques and from an unusual angle to assist the rest of our forces elsewhere, we do not intend to fire upon or endanger civilians such as yourself in any capacity, but there has already been some degrees of attack from the hostile party. Our approach is not unknown but we have deliberately left behind our previously planned direction of approach to arrive here.”

“Alright, I wish to begin discussions face to face. Please approach our primary Vessel with The Sabre and we’ll attach umbilical.” The Speaker for Lilri Fleet says and Harold nods.

“On approach.” Harold sends back before quickly shifting the comms to the rest of the fleet and handing out thier orders.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Grasping Fist Board Room, Spinward Edge of Mineral Rich System 88-93-U)•-•-•

“Well, what the pits are we dealing with?” She asks her Begrob head of security and the woman fiddles with her natural helm a bit.

“Commander, it’s a legitimate army. One that has two saints of the Primal Faith in it. One of them, Saint Redblade is coming her. That’s the man you spoke to. A man who on record has cut entire starships in half with a sword and made a wimparas woman into a goddess.”

“Fuck.”

“He also has another of his number here. Saint Bluelaser is apparently in one of those ships and ready for battle.”

“You mean those new mosaics I’ve seen on Primal temples is basically here?”

“A third of it is here.” Her head of security says bringing up the image that had been showing at many Primal Temples. It shows The Primal Urthani and Wimparis with a mostly pale purple Primal Nagasha all reaching into a central area of light while between them are three mortals with weapons striking into the centre as well. A red sword from the Human, a black staff from a Tret and the beam of a blue laser from a Phosa. When on a wall the image would slowly rotate.

If one takes things from the perspective of the Nagasha then the immediate left has the Phosa who stands as dark contrast to her pale purple features and the sheer white of the Urthani who is next. Followed by the human striking into the centre, then the Wimparas and between her and the Wimparas is the Tret with his staff.

A lot of discussion had been brought up about the image. A lot of questions too. And it looks like she’s about to have a few answered.

“And is he here?”

“The umbilical has just attached to his ship. The airlocks are cycling as we speak.”

“OH great, so mister sainty saint is going to strongarm us for the materials. Just what we need.”

“Captain, that might not be the case.”

“We’re a low end mining fleet. It’s always the case. Fuck and the contract we have is so good.”

“And if he’s not?”

“I’ll beg for his babies because we need more of that kind of man in the galaxy.” The Captain mutters.

A minute later Harold is led in by a Horchka member of the security staff and he has a smirk on his face. Tellingly, he also has his sword strapped to his side and is carrying a large case.

“Okay then, good to meet you captain. But I’m in a bit of a rush. So how much in the way of material is that twenty percent you mentioned and what are you going to be selling the other eighty percent for?”

“I told you, I’m not selling it to you.”

“Apologies, I misspoke. I would like to start by matching the price for that twenty percent, pound per pound, for what you’re getting for the eighty percent. So it would be like if you were selling one hundred percent of your load to the same buyer, but you offload and get paid for twenty percent of it ahead of time. Does that make more sense?”

“Yes.” She answers.

“Excellent, now we can do this two ways. I’d prefer the first which is you show me your contract, I match their price for that twenty percent and we just finish this up. I’m in a hurry, you’re in the middle of the workday. The less we get in each other’s way the better. Second method is we talk it out and negotiate the price. We know which one I prefer, which do you prefer?”

“And you’ll accommodate me?”

“We’re both law abiding citizens here ma’am, I want those resources so yes, I’m willing to accommodate.” Harold says.

“... One and a quarter the price I’m selling the bulk of the load for.”

“One and a fifth, let’s not be too greedy here ma’am.”

“... Fine, but you have to haul it out yourself.”

“Agreed, now let’s put it in writing and get out of each other’s way.” Harold says and she pauses. “Ma’am?”

“That’s it?”

“Yes? Is something the matter?”

“You’re not going to try and force things?”

“Unless you renege on the contract or try to attack my forces, no.” He says and she blinks. Then mentally shifts gears as she realizes just how badly she misinterpreted the situation.

“I...”

“Don’t worry, you were expected to get cheated so your guard was up. Perfectly understandable, but I really am in a rush, so if there’s nothing else?”

“Is that the sword?” Her head of security asks and he raises an eyebrow and then places the container on the table before drawing his sword. Slightly curved, single edged and red.

“It is. But the real trick is that it’s an Axiom totem for a technique that follows the blade. The actual danger is the tearing and repelling effects. As a sword it’s a fine thing, a sharp thing, but it’s rarely actually cut anything. But it carries the danger. Make sense?” He asks.

“Right, and that container?” The Captain says retaking control of the situation.

“Your pay. Let’s see how much of this big box of cash the contract says you get and you’ll have it on this table. Okay?”

“You’re that ready to pay?”

“Yes! I know we’re out in the boonies of the galaxy, but honest people travel too.”

“And thank goodness for that.” She says with a smile. “Let’s draw up the contracts, sign everything and get the payments and deliveries on their way mister hurry.”

“Thank you ma’am.” Harold says and is handed a data-slate he quickly goes over. He nods at the price and the numbers. “This is actually perfect. You’ve been out here for a while, so we’re getting a lot more than we hoped to get in a quick mining burst.”

“This is... right. Okay. Fine. We’ve been out here for three months.”

“And you’re handing us everything we need.” Harold says as he looks over it. He lets out a low whistle. It’s more than enough. Which means they can really start moving. But construction will take a bit of time. Best done between systems to minimize the chance for discovery and contamination of the construction.

“There’s not enough raw ore to produce a fleet in our twenty percent.”

“No, but there’s enough for us to finish the first big build. Which I wasn’t expecting for at least a week. And here I am getting it in the first twenty four hours.” He says as he puts his thumbprint on the scanner and locks things in and makes a very clear copy of the contract. “Alright then, time for your payment ma’am.”

He places several Trade Bars on the table and then closes his case.

“How much did you come in with?”

“A lot, this is the throw money at the problem fund. We had a problem, and now we longer have a problem. Thanks to money. Wonderful how that works isn’t it?”

“It is. Thank you for your patronage Saint Redblade.” She says in a slightly dumbfounded tone.

“Thank you for your service ma’am. Now if you’ll excuse me...” He says as he finishes locking up the case and then pulls out a communicator. “The sooner I begin, the sooner I’m out of your hair and out of your way. Your pardon please, but I’ll be organizing as I leave your ship.”

“By all means.” She says and he nods before immediately starting to call his people.

He leaves the room in a hurry and she just stares at the payday on her desk.

“Weren’t you going to ask for his baby?”

“... I didn’t want to push it.” She notes before standing up on her chair and walking onto the table. She’s now at eye level with her security officer. “Well, momma was always worried when I wasn’t anywhere near the gear-head my sisters were. Looks like I’m doing well anyways. This gets into the vaults immediately.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Destined Victory Bridge, Spinward Edge of Mineral Rich System 88-93-U)•-•-•

“So?” Her second in command asks as The RAM brings in the resources and they quickly construct an external storage bay to tug along to carry the rest of the resources.

“Okay, fine. There’s being lucky, there’s being good, but it’s clear that he’s good and he has a fair amount of luck.” The Captain notes.

“And the next part of our plan is... start moving to the next system, but at a slow enough speed that The Inconceivable will be completed by the time we reach it. So... a few days. Meaning we have some time to kill.” The Captain says as she rises from her seat. “I’ve been sitting here and at attention for six hours. First Mate UN0, are you ready to take command of the bridge?”

“Yes ma’am.”

First Last Next

First

Before the War

They had decelerated well before entering the next system and had slowed down. The RAD had finished it’s research and several maintenance drones from The RAM and before they enter the system The Sabre, Bloody Heron, Primalist Reinforcements RAM and RAD were all equipped and there were some adjustments being made for the Hive Carriers. There weren’t many good places to put the new sensor components on the carrier’s main structure that wouldn’t interfere with their communications to their drones or their existing sensors.

So for now they were just being doubly linked into the sensor network of the fleet.

Then they hit sensor range of the system and on The Sabre’s bridge, Harold smirks. The system is empty but there’s a moderately large gas giant orbiting a star with a high metal density ring. Not enough for a station to be built out in the boonies. But seemingly untouched. They take up defensive formations and quickly scan through the system, then when nothing shows up the harvesting starts in earnest. The field around the gas giant is over seventy percent ice, ten percent stone and fifteen percent scattered mineral deposits with the last five percent being random debris, some of it organic in the form of smaller void fauna and flora.

Nothing exotic though, Stellar Moss and Drift Lichen isn’t exactly uncommon or protected, and the local population of Hargath is more pest than anything.

Further struts and reinforcements to the Inconceivable’s framework slowly comes together and expanding outward. The opening parts of the engine start to form and with Jacob acting as a beacon for The Forests a piece of Axiom Ride is sent through to act as the central component.

Despite it being a massive warship, it’s still not a piece larger than a single disk.

As the engine is being put together there is a sudden strange signal at the edge of the system. Shields go up, then down as the signal is revealed to be organic.

Massive drifting things that look like a jellyfish was stretched to truly absurd proportions float into the system and then head right for the fleet.

“Are those... Eltith? I guess the fleet’s too small to scare them off.” The Sensor Operator notes on The Sabre.

“Just wait till they get closer, they’ll shy away.” The Pilot replies.

“Hmm... I’ve only read about them as a curiosity before. Never thought I’d see them.” Harold notes.

“... Do I need to ask?” Rain demands.

“Eltith are one of the more harmless void lifeforms. They don’t like the sound of ship drives so they outright avoid systems that have high traffic in them, or space stations or any seriously inhabited planet. Seeing one is seen as a sign of isolation, or a lack of advancement.” Harold says.

“Sound?”

“Closest comparison. The frequency of a standard Axiom engine is irritating at a great distance to an Eltith. But I guess we’re all...” Harold begins explaining and then grins. “Everyone, power down engines. Keep them ready to reactivate, but if the wildlife wants to volunteer as a tripwire system then why not?”

“May we assume you want our sensors on those Eltith?”

“Correct.” Harold says.

The harvesting drones slow a little, but work continues as the Eltith proves themselves to be the forward scouts of an entire herd that drifts into the system and makes their way to the gasses of the world. Dipping their mutli mile long tendrils into the gasses near the poles and after a bit, letting some slight tinkling things fall away from them that are on a slow intercept course for the planet itself, but the orbital decay is slow and has a timeline in days.

The Eltith flit around the ships a little, giving a few of them a tentative poke and then shying away entirely. A few smaller ones orbit around a few ships in massive curtains of shimmering white and silver. But the older and longer Eltrith clearly do not want to stay and there is a twist to their tentacles that cause the younger ones to chase after them as they depart the system in short order.

Engines turn back on and sensors return to full power and proper configuration.

“Commodore... that was...” The Pilot begins.

“Yeah. I know. Comms, tell The RAD that I want to know what exactly those Eltith just let go of.”

“It’s likely dung sir.”

“It is. However, these are exotic void creatures that are difficult to study as any approaching research base scares off the entire herd.”

“... Why though?”

“I’m curious, it’s not something that was ever mentioned so it might be something like a pearl where an irritant is wrapped around in a protective layer over and over again and the protective layer can be valuable.”

“And if it is just dung?”

“We see if The Astral Forest likes it, or if it has some extra kick for the Bright, Dark or Lush Forests. Maybe all three. There’s things to learn, we are here to not only be reinforcements for the La’ahbaron lines, but we’re here to provide novel solutions, which means we indulge our curiosity, and I am curious.” Harold says.

“Novel solutions?”

“Novel solutions.”

“Cyber Warfare isn’t exactly novel.”

“No, it’s not. But there are other things. Ideas going on in The RAD. Some I have too.”

“Such as?”

“Dedicated long range Maser Fighters. Forcing enemy ships to keep things focused on that exact frequency, but it will be markedly different from the laser frequencies of the drones, allowing them to better carve up and disrupt larger enemy craft. Get the lasers to focus on the shield generators and we might straight up break enemy vessels en mass without a single plasma shot or kinetic munition expended.”

“We saving plasma now?” Rain asks.

“No, we’re not. We can make it out of the freaking ice in this field. Hydrogen and Oxygen are easily converted into plasma. But everyone’s expecting us to close distance to make plasma more useful, but by allowing us to be a massive problem no matter the range.”

“I see. So... what kind of strategy do you have?”

“Hmm... that depends entirely on the forces that we get reports of from the front and our own opposition. In void combat do the Vish forces use fighters more? Gunboats? Do they prefer laying minefields and having long ranged battleships beyond them? We’ve seen traps and know they use stealth. But beyond that we don’t know much about their combat doctrine.”

“And I can’t tell you much myself, the Vishanyan are more saboteur, spy and assassin. You’ve seen the kind of ships we use, small stealthy, rarely bigger than a shuttle.”

“No kidding, you and Velocity were in a shoebox.”

“A shoebox that without your borderline extra-sensory abilities you’d have never detected.”

“Without those abilities you’d never have followed me to begin with. And the Vishanyan would not be in as good a place as they are now.”

“No... we wouldn’t...” Rain says with a roll of her eyes that is downright audible in her voice.

Over the next several hours the ring of the planet is mined fairly thoroughly and the leavings of the Eltith are captured and gone over. Harold is requested over onto The RAD to see things in person.

“Commodore on the ship!” The researchers greet him.

“Stand easy ladies and gents. You’ve got something for me?”

“You were right to be curious about the Eltith leavings. You suspected them to be pearl or fertalizer like, but the truth is even more interesting.”

“Okay...”

“It turns out that the creatures have nearly nuclear digestive systems. If not outright nuclear.”

“Keep talking.”

“The leaving is actually a small redundant organ, designed to be let go of that contains the end result of their digestion, which is gold.”

“... Giant space jellyfish that literally shit gold?”

“More grow it out in a pimple that then falls away covered in a bag of their skin.”

“... Gross, but interesting. Anything exotic about the gold beyond it’s origin? How about the flesh? Are there any properties to it?”

“Very, very cut resistant. But that’s not unusual for void fauna. It is oddly elastic compared to previous void fauna samples. But this part of Eltith biology hasn’t been studied before. The creatures are legally protected, and as they’re also harmless, inedible and shy no one has ever bothered hunting them. But... yes, the elasticity of this... well for lack of a better term, organ, is absurd of at this level of tensile strength.”

“... So we have literal gold, and it’s not as valuable as the bag it came in. Hilarious. I want you to look into seeing if we can’t synthesize something of similar strength and elasticity. This sounds like it would work miracles in armour systems or even structural supports.” Harold says even as a nearby screen shows the pale, transparent sack being fitted around a nozzle and a hydraulic press is used to keep it tightly bound. It then starts filling with water and expands like a balloon. Until the pressure nozzle fails and the device breaks. But the bag is unblemished even as it empties itself of water so violently that it functions like a water cutter for a moment. His eyebrows go up.

“How much gold was in that bag?”

“... Thirty eight kilograms on average. Big enough that if you’re not an exceptionally strong man then you need both hands to hold it.”

“And how many did we recover?”

“One hundred and forty six separate droppings.”

“Hunh... interesting.”

“Yeah.”

“This is going to be an interesting report.” Harold notes. “Remove the gold from the bags, and then get a good look at how they’re put together.”

“What do we do with it?”

“We’re throwing it to The RAM, gold has some practical use in the construction of computers and components. And with how much of each is going to be needed this gold is a blessing. We’re still getting in missing metals and materials we need for the rest of the ship. Getting ahead of the gold requirements is going to be incredibly important.”

“Oh yeah, I heard complaints that we were low on copper, khutha and more.”

“The trytite in the ring is making up for that lack, which is good, the chance of trytite disrupting a portal is non-zero.” Harold notes. “Still. Keep poking at this and see what turns out. But... I want you to test a few of them against the gas composition of that planet. The fact that these aren’t well known benefits of Eltith makes me think that the gasses of these kinds of worlds might be corrosive over a long period.”

“We’ll get right on it sir.”

“Good. Keep at it. Now is there anything else before I return to The Sabre?”

“We’re looking into the sensor upgrade for the Hive Carriers and we’ve come to a solution to maybe make a different style of Hive Carrier entirely. One that focuses on sensors to give an enormous and well detailed view over a larger area. But it’s not guaranteed. We’re still looking into how to get these secondary drone carriers to function without disrupting the tactical abilities of other hive craft. The issue of spectrum crunch and cost is coming in.”

“Spectrum crunch?”

“There are only so many wavelengths and frequencies sir. Eventually we start tripping over ourselves. That’s the crunch. The obvious solution is a bit of Protn, but that gets cost prohibitive in a hurry.”

“I think you’re overthinking this. Convert a tenth of all drones on the Hive Carriers, rounding up, into sensor drones exclusively and keep the same spectrum. This way we give them eyes without taking up any more bandwidth or mucking things up.” Harold orders.

“Right, we’ll start testing that now sir.” He’s told and he nods.

Before returning to the Sabre he takes a glance at one of the still intact bags and sees what looks like a large seed of gold with a shimmering haze of silver and white over it. “Space jellyfish dung is literally solid gold. Hunh.”

He quickly checks with everyone and finds that there are several different ideas already floating around and he talks to a few of them. Stealth suicide drone Hive Carriers are an idea being floated around and he gets an update on his Maser Artillery Ship idea. Going slowly.

He swings by The RAM and gets an update. Plenty of trytite, more straight up iron needed for the smelters, they’re also low on titanium but have already requested more through The Forests. Everything’s on the up and up.

“Okay, all ships. We have the vast majority of the resources in this system and to gather the rest would stall us out. We’re heading to the next system to keep our momentum. The outer hull of The Inconceivable is at thirty five percent completion already. We are ahead of schedule and as much as I enjoy a leisurely walk, I think it’s time for us to actually put some speed on. I have full confidence that we can do even better, so lets keep this up. Coordinates uploading now. We’re heading out!”

First Last

First

Before the War

“Wonder, oh wonder, what the next system contains. Go yonder, go yonder, cast your silly fears away...” Jacob sings softly to himself as they all decelerate before arriving in sensor range of the first resource system.

“Whoa!” He says as he notes several things right away. He shifts his talons and quickly brings up the speakers. “All crew, we have unknowns in the system. I’m putting shields up, brace in case things start going sideways.”

“Copy that, details?”

“Two larger ships of comparable size to cruisers, too much distance to get a decent reading on weapons and shields, dozens of smaller signatures at the asteroids. I suspect illegal unregistered mining operations, may or may not go hostile. Depends on the intelligence of the unknowns.”

“Understood Captain, we’re arming up in case.” Bjorn calls out and Jacob closes the line.

The escort fleet is fairly huge. Five ships from the Primalists are with them, the ten Hive Carriers, The Sabre, RAM, RAD, his own Bloody Heron and that should be more then enough in the way of firepower to scare whoever the hell this is and whatever the hell they’re doing here.

Then the two cruisers turn and leave. Leaving behind the smaller contacts. No words, nor responses. Not even the telltale signs of shields going up or weapons powering up. They just give them a good look at their engines and show them that they’re fully functional.

“All ships maintain a safe distance, Hive Carrier One is going to approach and send it’s drones out to scout the remaining contacts. I suspect a trap, if not then we’ve got some free goodies to make up for what’s no doubt missing. If it is a trap then we lose drones at worse. Maintain distance and keep your scanners open and shields on in case they’re trying to be cute and circle around.” Harold’s voice comes over the comm line.

“Copy that Sabre Actual, Bloody Heron maintaining distance.” Jacob replies.

He watches the screens and vaguely hears the other ships in the fleet sound off to confirm that they’re following Commodore Jameson’s orders.

Arden’Karm is then in the room with him. His hand on his shoulder and then steps to the side to watch with him. Something has him on guard. He then pulls a khutha piece out of his pocket.

“Bet it’s a trap.” Arden says.

“Sucker’s bet.” Jacob replies.

“Coward.” Arden notes.

“You here just to make a bet?” Jacob asks.

“Nah... I was actually wondering about something. Something I wanted to ask in person and not over the woods.”

“Ask then.”

“I want to practice with emplaced weapons.”

“That was more a statement than a question.” Jacob replies as he watches the readout of Hive Carrier one reaching it’s forward position and then breaking apart into dozens of drones that swoop forward through the system.

“May I please practice on The Bloody Heron?” Arden asks.

“I’ll ask Commodore Jameson. The Heron is part of his fleet for now and he’s the boss about things like that.”

“Oh. Fair enough.”

“But for right now the answer is no. We’ve got unknowns that could be anything from freshly abandoned mining drones to mines.” Jacob says.

“... Still not taking the bet?” Arden asks.

“Nope.” Jacob says as the first drones reach the asteroid cluster and then suddenly there is another signature then both it and the lead drone are gone. “... What?”

“Scanner says there’s a plume of thermal energy and expanding debris.” Arden says.

“I see that, but what hit it? Was there something else hidden? The contacts haven’t moved from where they’re parked on the asteroids.”

The remaining drones are called back to the Hive Carrier and after a command to wait for a few minutes from Commodore Jameson something larger than a standard drone is sent out from The RAM’s production bays. It sends back an enormous amount of sensor data back to the fleet and Jacob lets out a low whistle as all the data comes back. Then the sensor drone is slammed into by one of the things it revealed.

“Suicide drones with Vish Stealth panelling. The things we’re seeing on the asteroids are communicating with them and likely controlling them. Which means...”

There is a simple text command from The Sabre as it takes careful aim and opens fire with a precision railgun it has near the nose of the ship. The sheer distance means it takes nearly fifteen seconds for the first shot to connect. But it does and shatters the first of the twenty two, now twenty one easily visible contacts. After the first shot goes through with ease The Sabre fires it’s next ten shots in rapid succession.

Fifteen seconds later ten more contacts are gone. There is a brief waiting period, then The Sabre shoots down the rest.

Hive Carrier one then sends out a single drone again to see if there is any form of reaction in the area. The sensor feed from the small, laser equipped drone shows that at extremely close range the stealth suicide drones can be found. And they’re unresponsive without their brains.”

“Hmm... that’s a fairly big weakness in these drone types...”

“ALL SHIPS! MOVE DOWNWARD BY TWO HUNDRED METERS IMMEDIATELY!” Harold’s command roars through the emergency channel and Jacob dives downward without a question. Going to three hundred meters in a second as the rest of the fleet dives.

Then the sensors blare and then go silent. “All ships are to shift coordinates every five seconds at minimum from here on out. Hive Carriers five through ten are to begin patrolling system and The RAM is to send out a sensor drone towards the source of those cloaked kinetics. Primalist Forces I want you at system edge on standby to jump onto the fuckers, Hive Carriers one through four are to thoroughly scan the asteroid cluster and ensure it is completely safe for harvest. RAD, standby for the debris from the stealth drones and their control modules. I want a better detection method than losing a combat capable drone and paranoia.”

“Bloody Heron, you’re with me, we’re protecting The RAM and RAD. If you sense anything suspicious approaching them, fire.” Harold’s final order comes through and Jacob nods before adjusting his controls.

The Sabre and The Bloody Heron swoop towards The RAM and RAD. All four ships are moving, moving in eratic patterns to confuse and dodge kinetic shot and after only a few minutes of this the RAM sends out not one but six sensor drones in every direction from the system and confirms they’re already making more.

“Incoming!” Hive Carrier Seven sends out the vector details and everyone shifts away from the line of fire. But the RAM is somewhat closer than the others and uses it’s powerful magnetic beams to capture several pieces of shot. They’re then transferred to The RAD for study.

“Textbook.” Harold compliments them.

“We have a book on this?”

“We’re writing it and that move’s going in.” Harold replies.

“That shot was mostly stealthed chaff if anything. Why would they use something like that?” Jacob wonders as he replays part of the sensor data. The last shot was a massive spread of stealthed ammunition. So wide that even if they hadn’t been actively dodging then it would have been easy to avoid.

“Fuck. They’re gone.” Harold says.

“What? Jacob asks.

“The Micro-Laneways we’re going to use to approach La’ahbaron from the back, they’re using them. Which means we can expect traps and fights on all our resource areas. If they aren’t stripped bare.” Harold replies. “All ships! This is Commodore Jameson speaking. It’s clear that our preplanned route has already been compromised. I have a plan, but will need to clear it with Admiral Cistern first, remain within your defensive formation but be prepared for an update to our overall campaign plan.”

“What are you thinking?” One of the Primalist ships asks.

“Space is huge. We’re going to use that. Standby though, we might just have to do this through the teeth of our foe.” Harold supplies.

Hours pass and there is no further attacks. The asteroid cluster is cleared and the remaining, still armed but inactive drones, are all deliberately crippled with laser drone fire and then swept up into the RAM and RAD for study, disassembly and repurposing. Within an hour and a half the first mining and salvaging drone leaves the RAM and begins breaking down the asteroids. Things speed up and after they have ten of the small craft breaking apart the asteroid field even as several other production drones are helping put together a framework.

The pace is fast, then faster. The skeleton of a large ship is slowly put together in front of everyone, then The RAM and The RAD slot into two indents made in it. Their engines synchronize and as the last few heavy metal asteroids are consumed by The RAM the general outline of The Inconceivable is welded together. Then a single shield generator is installed on the front and it hums to life.

“We’re done here! And I have approval from Admiral Cistern. Our approach vector and mining rights has just been widened exponentially. We might come across some competing claims, but we have legal permit to mine from anything we find on the way to La’ahbaron. Which means it’s time to get off the standard laneway. We’re hitting these assholes from the side. Booby trap my asteroids will you? We’re going to eat them alive for this.”

A flight plan is given out to all ships and Jacob watches with a grin as The RAM and RAD move the large frame together away from the remaining asteroids and they head to the edge of the system.

The fleet moves up together and they all start accelerating away from the system. ETA to the next system. Seven Hours.

“Back.” Arden says and Jacob nods. “So... you owe me a Khutha disk.”

“I never made the bet.”

“Sure you did.”

“Did not.”

“Did so.”

“Are we really doing this?”

“Yes, you’re really trying to cheat me of a khutha coin because...” Arden begins and Jacob reaches back to smack him with his wing and uses a touch of the Lush Forest to force him away.

“Rude.” Arden says as he’s right back.

“Heh.” Jacob notes. “Still. I’ve been at these controls for a while. I’m putting my VI to slave it to the Sabre’s flight path. I need a couple hours nap, a shit and a shower. Not sure which order I’m going for first.”

“All at once?” Arden asks.

“Didn’t you used to be shy or something?”

“Dude, it’s you. I don’t have to worry about you.”

“... I’m not sure if I’m touched or annoyed.” Jacob says.

“So... cloaked kinetic fire and suicide drones. That’s how they’re countering you?”

“That’s how they’re countering us now.” Jacob says. “Now shut up.”

He activates the shipboard comms.

“All crew this is your captain speaking, we’re going onto basic autopilot between systems as I need a short break. I request that you keep your noise away from the bridge and my quarters so I can get the rest I need, please and thank you.”

He then shuts the comm and stands up from his chair to stretch out his wings. “You can wander around the ship, as far as I’m concerned your crew, but don’t do anything stupid. The girls are wound up and were looking for a fight.”

“I don’t want anything to do with them. Not right now at least.”

“You sure? They installed a training centre with sniping and sharpshooting programs.”

“Hmm... maybe. Kinda hard to be The Dustshot if I don’t practice.” Arden notes.

“There you go.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Sabre Bridge, Between Systems)•-•-•

“Hmm...” Harold considers as he gets an all clear from the sensors. Nothing is coming for them at the moment. But the enemy was already around and hostile. There are many, many thousands of systems he can go to, but he doesn’t want to avoid trouble, he wants to hit it from an advantageous firing angle. But the question is, will they expect that? It’s a big game of you know I know that goes back and forth and requires commitment. He needs to balance the fleet’s safety, operational security and resource acquisition.

Hopefully it will be sooner rather than later as the bridge is uncomfortably crowded and rather than having an office he’s here with the on duty crew as he thinks.

“Something wrong?” Rain asks.

“No, things went more or less perfectly. The only way that could be better is if there were no enemy contacts, but our loses were so minimal that we can file it under expended ammunition rather than actual damage. A Hive Carrier after all is designed for such a thing.”

“But?”

“But they know we’re coming. Meaning that they’re going to go from being careful, which laying a trap like that was, to actively fighting us. And we’re not fully ready yet. Our fleet is small and our main ship is just a series of metal beams in proper configuration. We don’t even have a patchwork hull yet, let alone a full ship.”

“To be fair most of what we gathered went into the mining and salvaging ships and the construction drones.”

“Yes, and we will be able to get a lot of work done no matter what system we get to next. But the problem is that we have tripped the alarm. I’m certain we can fight things off, but the enemy not only has teeth here, but a willingness to use them. Every system we go to can have enemies, and every single one of them can have unknown vectors... Meaning we need to do some upgrades, which is going to slow down the production of The Inconceivable even further.”

“Upgrades?”

“The RAD has found a few frequencies that Vish Stealth plating doesn’t hide from. It doesn’t give good information, but if it gives us information the other sensors don’t we can ping that as stealthed opposition. Problem is we’ll need another sensor on all our ships. Which is going to take some time. We’re going over the designs now and hopefully we’ll have a solution by the time we reach the edge of the next system. That way we’re harder to catch by them.”

“What about the solutions La’ahbaron showed? They had attack drones that go after Vish stealth after all.”

“That go after Vish people, not Vish built panels. And is so short range that it works under ten kilometres distance, that’s knife fighting range in space.”

“And this one?”

“We’re only going to have fifteen thousand kilometres distance.”

“That’s... not a lot.”

“No. It’s not. But it will be enough time. Just enough, to dodge. The sensors are going to have an algorithm in it that takes helm control. If the stealthed kinetics are going to impact then the ship will displace until it’s out of the line of fire by several kilometres, minimum.”

“Hopefully that’s enough.”

“If it’s not we’ll find another answer.” He says.

First Last

First

(Fuck summer, fuck whatever hit me the last couple of days and fuck the thing that’s trying to linger that I’m not letting have anymore control.)

Before the War

“Alright people! We’ve trained for this, simulated it and gone up and down a million and twenty times over. We’ve left the laneway and come to a relative stop. Our escort is buzzing around us and I want negative fuck ups, but I’ll settle for none!” Harold’s voice sounds out over the fleet as The RAM, The RAD, The Sabre and numerous support craft and The Hive Carriers breaking away from The Inevitable.

“Bloody Heron here, everything green according to my sensors.”

“RAM present, breakaway successful.”

“This is the RAD, we’re away.”

“Hive Carrier One Standing By.”

“Hive Carrier Two Standing By.”

They had been building more to shift excess materials to give The Inevitable more store room. Make things more comfortable for the passengers on the way back and in general lighten the load.

There are Ten Hive Carriers now. They had wanted to go into a naming scheme with a series of bee noises, but everyone was just buzzing and apparently some of it was coming up as heavily slurred profanity in a couple Charbis and Vulbaa languages. Which was impressive in it’s own right, but was getting distracting. So Harold had put his foot down and stopped the silliness, Hive Carriers went by numbers over the comms. The crews could call it whatever, but official communications had to be nice and clear.

“Inevitable, you are clear for departure. Your run up to Cruel Space will be at such velocity and at sufficient distance to gather the speed needed to greatly shorten your return to Earth. God speed and God Bless.”

“Copy that Commodore Jameson. It’s been a pleasure.” Captain Rangi states. “I’m not sure if we’re ever going to meet again, but if we don’t then it’s been an honour. An at times aggravating and exhausting honour, but an honour none the less.”

“Thank you sir, and I’d like to thank you for serving as a fierce example of a captain to me. I learned a lot from observing you.” Harold replies.

The farewells are given and The Inevitable accelerates away and back into the laneway. The last of their escort going with them as they hit the Axiom flows and continue on.

Harold has not been still. His own ships have turned and area heading through several systems where The Undaunted have provided mining licenses in. They’re going to hit several known clusters of high metal content asteroids that were too far away from conventional communities or production factories to be worth harvesting compared to others. The route also had several areas on the path that had been pinged for numerous high metal deposit areas, but as more valuable metals and crystals hadn’t been detected on the way, it hadn’t been enough to set up a mining station or get more than a few flags of potentially having resources.

Under his command, the fleet, and it’s small escort starts moving.

They reach the edge of this waystation system, more a general pit stop along the laneway where ships pull out into and can safely offload debris into a few dwarf planets orbiting the nearby star. They’ve got enough gravity that you can easily just toss what you don’t want in there and the star has cleanish radiation so it doesn’t do anything exotic to the ships in question.

Other than that it was only noted for having those two planets essentially scrubbing the system and keeping it clearer of space dust than average. Not by a wide margin, but by enough to be reliable and popular as a place to slow down and collect one’s thoughts before diving back into the laneway.

There was the proposition of putting a space station here in the process of being denied again, apparently it was just too useful as an empty system for most.

The tiny bits of debris from The RAM and The RAD breaking away was confirmed to be in a falling path to be swept up by the tiny planets as they left and they quickly accelerated.

There were some tiny micro-laneways on the way to the next system over even as the The RAM starts putting together the first few parts for parasite craft to help with the mining and salvage.

“Excuse me, Commodore?” Rain asks and Harold looks awya from the monitoring screens.

“Yes?”

“Why did you prioritize the creation of Hive Carriers over Fighters, salvagers or other things?”

“I needed to get the extra resources out of The Inevitable and The RAM and I needed it mobile. And despite the mistakes and kludges in The RAM we had everything already set up to produce Hive Carriers. So convenience for a start, secondly we would have plenty left over for the miners and salvagers so we could then focus on the combination of defence and sheer sensor data that the Hive Carriers give us. Make sense?”

“It does. And I can’t fault you for prioritizing information. It’s worth it’s weight in Axiom Ride in military terms.”

“Yes it is.” Harold agrees before the ship shifts ever so slightly in the way it’s vibrating as it clears the system and starts accelerating. “Alright all forces, this is Commodore Jameson, we have approximately four hours until we reach our first resource system. There is no reasonable expectation of combat, therefore I want all shields primed and all weapons ready. It only takes one surprise to kill the unaware, and it goes very much both ways if we find a new friend on the other end of our quick little journey.”

“Isn’t that a bit much sir?” A voice from one of the Primalist Ships asks.

“Captain... Lendus is it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Captain Lendus, I received the blessing of Thassalia the Lady of War. One of the biggest surprises for me was just how much danger there was in all things. We’re putting a fleet together on the way to hit a brutal force of monsters from behind. Monsters that have remained unrevealed and absent from our efforts to locate and potentially contain. Which is causing that very blessing to go berserk. I do not have physical evidence of it, but until I find rock solid evidence to the contrary I am going to work under the assumption that our enemy is fully aware of us and taking active steps to sabotage or otherwise damage these forces. I am not going to allow them even the delusion of victory. And that begins with keeping our guard up. Understand?”

“Understood sir.”

“Any other questions?” Harold asks.

“What was it like? To Earn her blessing?”

“The blessing of Lady Thassalia is combat awareness on a level it’s nearly precognition. You get it by fighting her and getting pushed beyond anything you believed possible. Then later comes the crashing realization that you were at most amusing her and she was humouring you. And considering I was bringing in artillery into a one on one duel that’s a terrifying thing to consider.” Harold replies. “Now anything about strategy or the concerns of our soldiers or crews?”

There are none and he gives his order to carry on with weapons and shields ready but not to immediately open fire on the first thing they see, they’re not here to kill random travellers or people struck by wanderlust.

“Why the distinction between soldiers and crews?” Rain asks.

“Our soldiers are just ready to fight if needed, the crews are actually working or on break after working. They both have differing concerns and priorities. In ideal circumstances the soldiers keep until needed and it’s the crews that we need to actually take care of. But ideal circumstances exist up here and no where else.” He says tapping his head.

“Fair enough.” Rain says as she looks over the cramped and jury rigged bridge of The Sabre. It was too crowded, too stuffed and too everything at the moment. But it was functioning as the command centre for the small fleet.

The ships fly in the void between systems and then accelerate as the micro-laneway picks them up.

“First leg of the trip.” Harold notes as they accelerate for just a moment and then immediately start slowing down from their new, absurd speed. They need to bleed it all off before entering their mining system or they’re going to break on contact with the debris and dust.

There is the tiniest jerk on the ship. Normally something she doesn’t even notice. But for some reason Rain nearly jumps.

“It’s alright. Micro-dust. We hit a stray atom or even molecule. Nothing to be concerned about.” Harold says.

“I don’t know why I have nerves.”

“Teenage body, and entirely new experience. You’re in a command position now, even if a junior one. You’re nervous and therefore everything is feeling much, much more.” Harold explains.

“Fair.” Rain says as there’s another, nearly unnoticeable bump on the ship. There was a time long ago she questioned how an engine can shake itself loose if it’s made of minimal moving parts and is basically fused to the ship. Learning that hitting even atoms builds up in time was... eye opening.

She forces out a breath and makes herself calm down. This is normal. The ships are just a little crowded right now. Not an actual issue unless you want privacy, and the places where you’re expected to have it are still fully private as required.

“Is something wrong Rain?” Harold asks and she thinks.

“... I’m feeling off but I don’t know why. It... oh shit.”

“What?”

“We need to talk, in private.”

“Okay.” Harold says. “As you were men.”

He follows her out of the bridge and into his immediate quarters. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re not comfortable, and you’re not showing it physically. But your sheer presence, it’s laced with your concern and restlessness. I was right next to you and picking up on it.”

“Fuck.” He mutters. “So I need to get better control of myself.”

“It might not be doable, Axiom Presences are automatic, very hard to control on a good day and yours is so out there that it might not be controllable.”

“That’s quitter talk. Thank you for letting me know, I’ll work on it. Do you need a break or the like?”

“No. I’m fine, now that I know where it’s from I can better handle it, but you need to know that your concerns and feelings are going to bleed into the crew around you.”

“Which can be useful in the right circumstances. In fact...” He begins before closing his eyes and a small smile spreads on his face.

She can feel her heartbeat accelerate as she feels READY, ready to fight as she looks around or something to do or... “Excitement?”

“Excitement. I can get myself hyped up pretty easily. If I can pass it to other people then it’s even better.” Harold says. “What about...”

There is a pause for a few moments and something sort of... Rain is shifting into a more combat stance and subconsciously scanning the area, but she’s taking in a lot of...

It fades as Harold lets out a big breath. “Nope, not easy and from the look of it... it didn’t work.”

“What were you trying to do?”

“See if I could share the combat awareness that Thassalia taught me. Her so called blessing. It’s her basically tightening up your instincts until you develop another sense for danger. But it looks like you just started paying more attention, which is good, but not what I was going for.” He notes.

“If you could give that kind of instinct over your command room, or HELL! Imagine if you could transfer it to a whole fleet!”

“Yeah, a slam dunk... slam dunk cognito hazard. Shit. This is going to be one hell of a report, and we haven’t even hit the first resource extraction point yet, fun!”

“Still, finding a way to be a reverse um... uh... the hell was that thing again? Made by a Mother Massacre?”

“Hate Engine?”

“Right! Being a reverse Hate Engine is the kind of thing that would interest a lot of people.”

“Maybe, but it’s open for abuse. I’ll see about getting some kind of bangle or something to lock up my Axiom presence so I don’t cause bleedovers like this by accident.”

“Anymore.”

“Thank you Rain.” Harold remarks.

“Anything else, or is daddy just making his little girl uncomfortable?” He asks and then tanks a hit to the gut as she punches him. It was probably hard enough to knock a civilian down and have them screaming for the police, but he barely felt it. He then rubs the top of her head. “That’s nice pumpkin.”

“I’m going to clobber you.”

“You’re going to try. But not outside of private encounters. Once we leave this room we’re back to Commodore and Junior Officer. Which means that I will throw you in the brig if you undermine my authority or assault me.”

“Yes sir.” She says. “I’m aware of the rules of proper interactions and respect between ranks when there’s a pre-existing relationship.”

“Right, wasn’t your first commanding officer the Vishanyan who had been on rotation as your nurse and attendant when you were fresh from the tubes?”

“Yes, having your commanding officer be someone who changed your soiled underthings as a toddler is a hell of a thing.”

“Something you’ll experience from the other side soon enough.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe nothing, I’ll talk Herbert into having you babysit your nieces and nephews on occasion. Get you some experience for when you’re a mother and superior officer yourself one day.”

“No. Just. No.”

“Too much authority?”

“That’s not it and you know it.”

“Ah, but as your father, I’m not allowed to.”

“Prick.”

“Yes.”

First Last

First

(I think I caught something, it was smelling of smoke yesterday, are the wildfires still going? Oh and it’s triggered an Autistic sensory overload. Lovely. God damnit.)

Before the War

There is an uncomfortable silence between them. On one side is Lady Val who has been wearing far, far more in the way of normal clothing of late and seems unsure how exactly to sit on something that isn’t a large cushion or lounging couch. Opposite is Rain who’s wearing a little badge on her uniform shaped like a serpent that cancels out her stealth. Val doesn’t feel fully safe around Rain, and Rain doesn’t feel comfortable being visible.

But both were under direct orders from Harold to at least get used to being around each other. Then he stuck them in a side room that was out of the way of the million and ten things that needed to be done while making sure they were comfortable. There were bottles of water on the table between them and a smattering of different snacks that go from sweet to salty and back again.

“So...” Lady Val begins. “My family didn’t raise a coward, so lets start simple.”

“And how do we do that.”

“I am Val, formerly Lady Val of La’ahbaron, but I have overstepped and am now upon my final chance to prove myself of use to the empire. If I fail I can expect banishment at best, more likely I will die.” She says.

“Why?”

“Because there are very few second chances or the like in La’ahbaron.”

“Why not? Everyone makes mistakes in training and nothing is guaranteed. So why would you not be given that kind of grace?” Rain asks.

“There’s little room for it. What do you know of the history of La’ahbaron?”

“Not much I’m afraid, for all that your people are currently quite popular I haven’t caught much.”

“Well... I’ll give you a summary. You see, my great grandmother’s people, the Ibu? They are a very martial species. With a plethora of painful weaknesses. For all that they are nearly impossible to physically stop, Ibu are beings of emotion and it always, always eventually ruins them. They try to mitigate it, they try to control and contain it. But it always runs over. So they build places, fortresses that can withstand it and places where they can safely let it out. But it doesn’t always work.”

“Did one of La’ahbarons allies go crazy or something?”

“Or something. Without warning one of my grandmother’s closest confidants decided to betray her and... it left a mark.”

“How bad is it with the Ibu?”

“It’s like they have an enemy inside them. One that can just cause them to go berserk or to lose all control of themselves for a time. Do you recall the kidnapping victim that I tried to rescue?”

“Yes, apparently things went horribly wrong.”

“They did, but what’s important for this conversation, is that he’s a courtesan. Which has different meanings in other cultures, but to the Ibu it means that he is responsible for creating and maintaining a safe place to deal with these issues. But he himself has his own.”

“Really?’

“Yes, every now and again he enters a reinforced holosuit and will go berserk, killing every projection sent at him with unending fury.”

“So the Ibu have a deep rage?”

“It’s more than rage. It’s also hunger, and lust. Everything that you would need as an animal, some eat until they’re at risk of rupturing their internal organs, some fornicate until their pelvises crack. And Danburi, when he loses control he attacks, attacks until he can either strike no more or find nothing more to attack.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, as an Ibu goes longer and longer without indulging, they get increasingly erratic and less prone to thinking things through. Perhaps that’s what caused it, perhaps not. But suffice to say, as La’ahbaron fully conquered the civilization already in her rightful territory, her trusted lieutenants turned on her and tried to take the prize from her.” Val explains.

“Who was there before?” Rain asks.

“What?”

“Who was conquered exactly?”

“I don’t really know. Their name wasn’t exactly preserved.”

“Don’t you think that THAT might be something to look into?” Rain asks. “I mean think about it. Someone is using Vish to attack you and your people, someone with a grudge. And the people who were conquered and forgotten about sound like they’d be a great target.”

“It can’t be. What was there to begin with were disparate Ibu colonies. They would have made their grievances obvious and clear. It’s not the Ibu way to be sneaky like that, they’re a very straightforward species.”

“It’s neither the Vish nor Vishanyan way to allow ourselves to be casually seen, yet here I am.” Rain says.

“That... is true. But the list of whom could be responsible and is long, and hard to parse through.”

“But we’re also off topic. Why is La’ahbaron so rigid? Is it because she just lost her ability to trust after one incident?”

“If you get shot in the head, then it’s perfectly rational to doubt that you’re going to survive it. Someone she trusted more than her own family turned on her. Completely, utterly. Tried to kill her. Right as she was achieving what she wanted most with them by her side, they broke with her and tried to turn her dream into a nightmare. The hows and whys of it don’t matter. The scar this left was so deep that Great Grandmother cannot trust again. Not fully.”

“Really? She can’t trust anyone?”

“She’s tried. But the damage that was caused means that her instincts get agitated and she lashes out. Danburi is one of the greatest courtesans ever produced by La’ahbaron, one of the most handsome men to ever be born and her direct grandchild. She held him when he was newly born, was there when he was named, watched over every part of his life. He has no secrets from her, he has no way to harm her and even less desire to.”

“And she still can’t trust him?”

“It’s irrational. And she knows it is irrational. But every attempt to push against it has only deepened the wound. And now with my recent actions, disobeying her in an attempt to save Danburi and then failing...” Val shakes her head. “The fact I’m getting a second chance is a small miracle in it’s own right. It’s because I’m not an Ibu that she can expect less of me and justify it. Had I proper coloured skin and horns I would not be offered such grace.”

“... If not for how the Vish we’re going to save were being treated then no one would be paying this war much attention. It sounds very self inflicted.”

“It is, which is something that confuses me the more I think about it. Neural Claps? That’s a step so above and beyond... unless... tell me Vishanyan, how long did it take for your people to start rebelling? To go from Vish to Vishanyan?”

“It was before I was sequenced, easily so.”

“How many generations?”

“... Not many. Admiral Longitude has never made any references to any form of elderly Vish before she started the rebellion. And there is a history of quickly upgrading our medical technology after the takeover. So I don’t think they were renewing Vish.”

“So the Vishanyan are potentially prone to rebellion.”

“Are you implying the clamped members of my species are being made examples of.”

“It could go in any direction. There is a lot unknown quantities about the Vish, even to your own people.”

“Vishanyan, while I call the Vish my people, it is in hope of freeing them. I’m not a simple Vish.” Rain corrects her.

Of course.” Val says before sighing. “You do know that even if we manage to recover the Vish attacking La’ahbaron without killing them, they’re not going to be Vishanyan as you know it I hope.”

“I know. We made a whole way of live out of defining ourselves, taking some control of our fate. The others...” Rain shakes her head. “No, they’re not Vishanyan, they must be taught how to be Vishanyan.”

“And what about Miracle.” Val asks.

“What about her?” Rain asks immediately.

“Well... what’s going to happen? The idea that she could be even born is going to be enormously important to the Vish, I’d be surprised if it hasn’t caused enormous amounts of debate and consideration.”

“A bit more or less perhaps than you think.” Rain says. “There are a good number of girls, ones that didn’t really want to be military, who have signed up to be mothers. A lot of them are pregnant but so far they’ve exclusively used human DNA samples. With permission from The Undaunted of course.”

“How nice for you.” Val says. “What I’m worried about though... is the sheer size of that other one. Of Velocity. If that can be induced in the Vish... The advantage of the Vish is that they’re stealthy, add strength to it, strength perhaps comparable to an Ibu...”

“No, we don’t have that. Not even Velocity in her new... shape isn’t on that level. A big part of Ibu strength is that their bones and skin are nearly unbreakable. This lets them use far more muscle power than a Vishanyan can. By comparison even the strongest Vishanyan can only use so much strength without hurting herself.” Rain notes as she thinks, drawing her legs up under her. “There’s just so much that doesn’t make sense about all this. Even if the person controlling the Vish doesn’t like them, making them worse at their job is just stupid.”

“Maybe they are just stupid. They’d have to be to have gone this far.”

“If we’re lucky they’re just stupid. But... well I tried relying on luck and it got me to be one of the women responsible for exposing my entire species to someone who treated our stealth like a joke.”

“Didn’t that turn out very, very well for your species? A sponsor? Protection and a soft introduction to the galaxy where you walk out with numerous allies?” Val asks.

“In the long term, but failing utterly to maintain stealth around a target to the point they outright invite you in is nothing short of humiliating. It was such a complete loss that my commanding officer had her mission and objectives switched from stealth to seduction, and he turned that back on us too!”

“And now you’ve had it confirmed that your people are fully capable of giving birth to a healthy child and that you even enter a matriarchal state when you do so, it’s a victory not a defeat.”

“Victory through failure is not how I want to operate, it’s not how anyone wants to operate.” Rain protests.

“And yet, you have.” Val says and Rain scrunches her eyes shut.

“Fuck’s sake. Can we talk about exactly who might be attacking La’ahbaron, or if you don’t have a proper answer to that, then how is La’ahbaron defending itself?”

“The who on the attacking end is unknown and you know that. But our defence...”

“Well?”

“There are five primary fleets. The Diamond Fleet, The Ruby Fleet, The Sapphire Fleet, The Emerald Fleet and The Amber Fleet. Between them they protect the four primary access points to La’ahbaron space and the central systems.”

“Let me guess, the naming system isn’t a coincidence and the fleets are full on colour coded.”

“Not in any way that will weaken the weapons or armour of the fleet in question, but yes, each variant has a uniform based around specific gemstones. Each fleet also has a reputation. Diamond has the most up to date equipment and it’s where the well connected soldiers and officers are sent, Sapphire has the highest tolerance for mavericks who want to push the edge. They’re stationed at the primary laneway entrance and it’s who most of the reinforcements from the galaxy will meet first. Ruby Fleet has a reputation of being the most stringent for rules and regulations discipline issues that don’t show exceptional results like the mavericks end up there to either shape up or be disbarred in disgrace. Emerald Fleet is restless, constantly undergoing different drills and wargames, they’re also known to be the fleet that makes heavy use of indulgences but their combat record and battle readiness makes up for it.”

“And Amber Fleet?”

“The most practical fleet of all. Amber actively patrols the areas of La’ahbaron and surrounding territory for pirate and bandit raids. They were the first fleet to run into the Vish opponents and paid in blood for the intelligence we have on them. Unfortunately it was badly depleted in the opening acts of the war, effectively holding the line as the other fleets built countermeasures and geared up. They were previously the least respected of the fleets due to the fact that it’s where the majority of Non-Ibu soldiers were stationed. They’re down to less than a fifth of their former strength and have been moved into a recruiting, repair and up-arming stance well behind friendly lines.”

“Do you think it might have been possible for the Amber fleet to have been directly targetted?”

“What? Why would that be a target?”

“Well, we don’t yet know what the enemy’s target or goal is. For all we know, they might not want to kill the nation of La’ahbaron, just La’ahbaron herself and then control it.”

“Impossible, the very legal structure of La’ahbaron means that only the lady and her direct heiresses can actually hold the nation together. And all members of the royal family are loyal and accounted for as either dead or actively fending off the Vish.”

“Except for at least one.”

“Danburi is no traitor.”

“No, but he is a member of the royal family. He could be used to produce one. A puppet perhaps.”

“Impossible, the recognition ceremony is what’s required. I’m a greater risk to La’ahbaron than he is, and I would rather die.”

“Look, I’ve... I’ve observed and stolen information from a few separate civil wars in my service to the Vishanyan. Wars rarely, if ever spring out of nowhere. There’s always a cause and effect, and often the cause is desire. A desire for power, a desire for wealth or prestige. But I’m struggling to find out who gets what if this war continues. The number one rule in almost any bit of political nonsense is ‘follow the money’ but in this scenario what is the money? Because I’m seeing a lot being spent, but not a lot going elsewhere.”

First Last

First

Before the War

“It’s halfway between things being overloaded and corroded.” The scientist says as he examines the damaged component. “It’s actually quite interesting, some of the basic bonds in the molecular structure are just breaking down. But the energy source clearly worked but was just plain too much. But even if the system could accept the sheer amount of power that the Ode brings in. We still would have things fail, and quickly.”

“It gets worse. Ninety five percent of all files we have from the cameras and sensors before they failed are corrupted. The surviving images are in line with what few surviving images there are of Hollow Daughters in the past. Just a few blurry images of a desiccated corpse that’s somehow ambulatory. And like all known cases the audio receivers are completely fucked, Axiom sensors were the first to go and chemical sensors just failed after sensing nothing odd.”

“What do you think of the fact that they both spoke to her?”

“Freaky is what is is. I’ve read stories about them. Speculation up and down, but the idea of getting actual information... and without death?”

“Well, they are trying to make a weapon to kill some kind of immortal monster. It could very well be that that drew it in, and I’d say an infused knife designed to genocide a specific species is pretty well associated with death.”

“Am I the only one that misses when the galaxy made sense?”

“How do you miss what you never had?”

“Shut up, it made sense once.”

“When? Because the only time it fully made sense to me was when I was a little thing literally too stupid and way, WAY too ignorant to realize my own stupidity or ignorance.” The first scientist asks before he leans away from the screen he’d been using to examine things. The zooming in camera for the destroyed equipment is to the left and he leans over. His Drin antenna flicker over things and he sighs.

“This is... not something I like to see. From the wear on the circuitry this device has been functioning for years, maybe decades at maximum capacity and without any form of maintenance, be it in the form of Axiom or simple scan and replace work that an apprentice could do after their first week,” He notes. “But I can physically see the repair rune on it. These device components should have had a longer life expectancy than I do. Hell, it should have lived a lot longer than me, I’m in the military!”

“Still, it certainly explains why the Hollow Daughters are so damn deadly at any rate. More power? Power that’s outright dangerous to others? Did you see the corrosion on the places she stood?”

“Yes, I did. It gave us a nearly perfect outline of her bony feet.” He says and sighs. “That’s the worst of it you know. A killer can be understood, whether it’s an assassin, a serial killer, a soldier or whatever. It makes sense. But you expect them to have some kind of... I don’t know life or health to them? Unless they’re dead. But the Hollow? They’re not dead, not really, but they have every indication of being so.”

“Undead?”

“No... they’re not that. Bone puppets and false life can easily be forced into htings. There are Axiom techniques that can encode a person’s very mind into a living Axiom construct. I’ve seen that. I understand that. But the Hollow Daughters are something else. Something... wrong.”

“I’ve got a question for you, it won’t please you to think about it though.”

“Oh brilliant. Lay it on me.”

“What if we haven’t actually seen a hollow daughter?”

“What do you mean? Of course we’ve seen them.”

“No, we’ve seen what we think are hollow daughters. We have the corpses of the women who went hollow to kill someone. But then we’ve spotted them later.”

“What do you know that I don’t?” The Drin researcher demands and his Feli counterpart pulls out a data-slate and activates it. It’s a bio of a woman who had called in the Hollow Daughters seven hundred years prior. Gremora Hazna. Her chosen kill was... almost unique. It was the people responsible for a company destroying her homeworld in the name of profit. Apparently The Hollow Daughters had interpreted this to mean the board, Ceo and shareholders. All of them.

By the time the Hollow Daughters had burned through a quarter of them all the rest panicked, divested themselves of all shares and the company dissolved in short order.

Talrikan is to this day a nature preserve and low technology retreat. No corporation the size of the one torn to pieces dares touch that world.

The image of her hollowed body was a perfect match of the few images they had gotten of the woman who had spoken to Harold and Herbert.

“From grocer to supernatural assassin and walking techbane. She’s had a fun seven hundred and change years.”

“Yep, now, you’re the metalurgist. What can you say about the changes on the deck panelling where she stood and walked?”

“Advanced decay with no trace of a cause. But still decay. Nothing too exciting I’m afraid, the only residue is from the base material itself and it hasn’t bonded with anything like what happens with rust, there was nothing in the way of trace elements or well anything. Afraid all I have is a big shrug. Still it’s neat to see how metal corrods without time, atmosphere or foreign elements doing the deed. Not very useful though. It’s closest comparison is an Adept breaking apart the molecular bonds but without the leftover Axiom energy agitation that can linger.”

“Right, well, do they match up with anything I’ve shown you with the...”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Herbert’s Office, Intelligence Department, Undaunted Territory, Centris)•-•-•

“Alright, I need to get back to The Inevitable now.” Harold says after sending off the report. “Thank you for letting me borrow your office brother.”

“Hmm... it’s fine. Honestly reading your corrections over your shoulder was worth it.” Herbert replies from where he’s lying down on his own desk and Harold is sitting on the floor.

“... Are we getting too deep?” Harold suddenly asks.

“We’re deep in a lot of things. Narrow it down.”

“We’re doing so much, everywhere we go we break systems, conventions and ideas. To say nothing of ideals. I get that we’re rah rah rah be your best self types, but should there be a limit? If we treuly start breaking people into contact with The Hollow Daughters, what happens next? From what we know they’re all women who put a supernatural contract on the head of another. What the hell happens when the law decides that they need to be held to account as murderers?”

“Sit back and watch the fireworks, provided that we don’t have a treaty with the party in question that drags us into the mess.”

“And that’s the main rub. Someone is going to do a stupid. It’s inevitable. Stupidity is always eventually on the way, and we’ve opened so many doors, kicked open so many barriers... even the low level, easy stuff might make us vulnerable. The win we got thanks to that drop out the window could be used as a way to attack us. After all we had men recognized as off the lists if they were gainfully employed by the government. How much longer do you think we have until they’re trying some kind of government exchange and then side shifting people into a breeding position or something in that category?”

“You mean beyond massive public backlash?” Herbert asks.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing.”

“And that’s part of the problem. We just need a couple of idiots to... okay. Now I’m just complaining about politics in general. I’m too deep in my own head.”

“Or not deep enough. But you are indeed in the sweet spot where everything looks like a potential bomb or conspiracy.” Herbert says as he rolls over and props his head uncomfortably against Harold’s. “Are. You. Alright?”

The slowness and deliberateness of the question gives Harold pause.

“I am incredibly restless.” He says after a bit. What we... what I did with the knives was stupid, reckless and got instant results. I prefer to operate like that. But I can’t. I’m in charge and I’m already pulling at the chains before they’re fully on. I’m not sure if I’m going to calm down or get used to things, but so far... No. I’m not alright. I want to build with my family, I want to go out and get in fights, I want to personally hunt down the attacking Vish in La’ahbaron and shake the information out of them. I want to do a million things and sitting by as other people do it for me isn’t on the list.”

“And there it is.”

“I know how to do this. I remember doing it as you. Being in charge isn’t hard but... I’m much more energetic, so much more results focused than you... When I went out to make myself my own person, I became less suitable to leading.” Harold notes.

“I was afraid of that.” Herbert says before chuckling. “Funny that the little kid has less energy and more patience.”

“Oh I have plenty of patience, but the things I do to burn time aren’t available anymore. Maybe when The Inconceivable is finished I’ll be better adjusted, after all it’s going to be a lot of ship with plenty of crew to constantly check up on, but I’m pulling myself and my people out of The Inevitable. I have less and less business in there, not to mention they’ve already had me pull out my bugs, tracers and other associated spyware.”

“Surprised you got away with that as long as you did.” Herbert notes and Harold chuckles.

“It was valid having them. I caught plenty of idiots trying to sneak into the ship from port. It wasn’t as bad as the outright sport that has grown out of the girls trying to get on The Dauntless, but it certainly wasn’t something to scoff at.”

“Really? I didn’t hear much about that.”

“It was never a big issue. They all surrendered more or less immediately when faced with a pistol in their face. Few sneaky types are willing to put up a big fight.”

“Hmm... glad to hear.” Herbert says. “Beyond the war, what do you hope for afterwards? You’ve made yourself into a killing machine on the level that the collateral might include continents, and that’s without serious hardware. What happens after?”

“Training, myself and others, and the big stick for when things need to happen and subtlety is more dirty word than tactical.”

“That all?”

“Well there’s no way in hell I don’t become a political, cultural or religious figure to the Vishanyan, potentially to the attacking Vish as well. Miracle is the first natural born member of the speceis and as the father I’m going to get attention.”

“There’s also the fallout from whatever the hell is happening in the war. The one person confirmed to be taken alive point blank has features comparable to our own. The Ibu of La’ahbaron might take that as some form of providence, especially if you yourself are involved in his rescue.”

“Thankfully I have an equally handsome little brother who’s inoffensive and just as capable to throw at that problem.”

“Hey... you’re the little brother, not me.”

“Standard units of measurement say otherwise.”

“Not the legal or chronological ones.”

“Yes, because this galaxy doesn’t make it a damn near national sport to dodge time, and the less said about laws the better.”

“Better for you maybe, let’s keep talking about laws.”

“Nah... not feeling it.” Harold says and Herbert lifts his head a little and lets it fall to bonk him.

“Oww!” They say in perfect synch before Herbert lets out a giggle and Harold starts chuckling after a few moments.

“Okay wise guy, I guess I had that coming.” Harold says as he stands up and Herbert stands on his desk to tower over Harold.

“That you did, any other questions before you leave?” Herbert asks.

“Just one. And I’m only asking because I just remembered and to be frank, I can get the information myself. But why not right?”

“Right, what is it?’

“How are the sorcerers taking things? A chunk of The Dark Forest was subverted. That’s a clear insult and injury, and Sorcerers aren’t well known for having regulated and reasonable reactions to that kind of nonsense.”

“Not well. But it doesn’t look like the forest is entirely sure HOW to respond to a threat like this.”

“So in other words keep an eye on the sorcerers and my ears open?”

“Basically.”

“Not the result I wanted, but it is the one I expected. Thank you.” Harold notes. “Give your kids an extra hug from me, I’m heading back to The Inevitable now.”

“All of them? That’s a lot of hugs.”

“You need the exercise, your arms are looking weedy.”

“I can still snap necks.”

“That’s nice, now snap spines little man!” Harold teases in a thick accent and gets a raspberry blown at him for it.

He laughs as he leaves his brother’s office.

First Last

First

Before the War

The scanners are going insane and then the endless series of error messages overload the systems and they crash even as the brothers look directly at the now changed blades. Both of them seeing more than the sensors could.

Without their augmented sight the blades have turned red and have black fire flickering off them both.

“Fuck.” Herbert mutters as he sees the energy surrounding the knives lashing out and seeking out anything nearby. Harold reaches for one and then draws back his hand as the energy of the knife he had been reaching for starts reaching back for him. Then he and Harold both take a step back, in Herbert’s case two, as the energy keeps reaching.

“Well... I’m an idiot.” Harold remarks as he tries to make sense of the writhing presence within the blades. Lashing out and trying to...

“You are, yes.” An unfamiliar voice notes to his side and he looks clean over Herbert to see a woman who has had every sign of life stripped from her. A desiccated corpse that still moves and she takes two steps. Grabs both knives and they both calm. She pulls them out of the containment, with the containment breaking apart around them as she does. And neatly slots both knives into the ragged rope belt that’s keeping up the strips of rotting cloth keeping her decent.

“Excuse me miss ma’am, but could you tell us how my brother could have done better?” Herbert asks in a tone so innocent and adorable that stone would be moved.

“Don’t bother with that living ones. Just tell me why you did this.”

“We have enemies that are using Haffara Thar, I want to have my enemies dead after I have killed them.” Harold says frankly.

“Your assumption that death is a real thing is your first mistake. But your ignorance is understandable. Still if you want to expel someone from the level you live upon, ask it of me and my sisters.”

“Ma’am, I’d rather do my own killing.”

“Not to mention we like living on this level.” Herbert says. “So the price of joining you on yours to send someone there is a bit weird.”

“... It has been a very long time since I was on this level. But is not the elder supposed to be larger than the younger?” She asks looking from Herbert to Harold.

“Usually.” Harold concedes. “But he’s the sneaky one and I’m the strong one, so it’s backwards with us.”

“Ah... I’m not quite sure how to talk with you living anymore. This is strange.” She says.

“Is there a way to make a weapon that can undo the power of a Haffara Thar that is safe to use?”

“You mostly did it with these.” She says indicating the knives. “And these are nice knives. But you need to give them intent.”

“Oh! I need to focus on Haffara Thar rather than just power or it’ll kill everything. Won’t it?”

“It will.” She says and she turns her empty eyes towards them both. She examines them both, seemingly quite curious.

There is the slight electrical sounds of numerous security cameras and the like shorting out and the lights start to flicker.

“You both... you can see beyond and choose if your are seen.... I see you both, far more clearly than others on your layer.” The Hollow Daughter says.

“Madam. We need to know how to kill the unkillable, if you will not tell us how. Then can you at least tell us if it can be done?” Harold asks and she looks at him.

Her hand reaches out and the cold, clammy and desiccated fingers send a chill down his spine as she caresses his jaw.

“... You can. It would be easier if you were one of us. After all, the birth gift is a death of your choice. But... you can.” She answers.

“What are you really? Who and what are your people?”

“Hmm... no. It is not your concern. What is your concern is all the blood your losing. If I recall correctly you types need it to live do you not?”

“Oh yeah, I’m leaking...” Harold notes.

“Dumbass.” Herbert scolds him. “Why hasn’t medical or hazmat gotten here yet?”

“I broke the doors.” The hollow daughter notes.

“... Are you sure you don’t want to teach?”

“It’s not for those on your layer.” The Hollow Daughter says before running her thumbs over the pommels of the knives. “Still, if you want to ask a few more questions in the future, more knives like this might be nice. Maybe not. I like knives at any rate.”

Then she’s simply gone and Harold puts more actual thought into healing his wounds. What bleeding there was fades entirely even as a screeching sound can be heard and the door is forced open.

Troops in hazmat rush in and scan the area, much of the equipment quickly fails and dies, but the last two are apparently in the clear and they declare the area safe. Medics then run in and Harold holds his arms out to give them room and time to examine things. He very quickly has the gouged out chunks of his arms scanned, a salve applied to them to deal with pain and then bandaged with Axiom resonant wrappings to promote painless and seamless healing. They tell him that the bandages should be finished within five minutes but he’s keeping them on for an hour at minimum to get ahead of any potential unknown pathogens or internal damages.

Herbert is scanned and proclaimed healthy.

“Two hours, your office.” Harold says and Herbert nods. The smaller of the two brothers rushes off to make his reports as Harold starts organizing decontamination and repairs.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Herbert’s Office, Intelligence Department, Undaunted Territory, Centris)•-•-•

“Yes, yes you’re not wrong. The implications are insane.” Herbert confirms on the other end. “Thankfully with the fact we can in some manner, openly communicate with The Hollow Daughters means it’s not just my problem anymore, I get to have the diplomatic corps share the burden.”

The door to the office lights up with a chime. “Who is it?”

“Brother.” Harold calls out.

“Come on in.” Herbert says. “I’ve got Admiral Cistern on the link.”

“Ah, okay sir.” Harold says walking in and sitting opposite of Herbert.

“You’ve faced what many consider literal death itself while bleeding out Commodor Jameson, how are you faring?”

“Frustrated sir. I should not have done that. Friendly or not I ended up bringing in an unsecured, unknown and highly dangerous individual onto the ship, even before I have proper control of it. My ship isn’t even built yet and I’ve already put it at risk.”

“Are you going to do it again?” Admiral Cistern asks.

“No. I’ll have The RAD separate and watched carefully next time. But we do need a weapon sir. Some answer to the Haffara Thar and it looks like we found it. But making it is a direct health risk and will draw attention that is even riskier.”

“Then you’ve learned. What was the damage?”

“Electrical and Axiom based primarily, the structures and mechanics of the are are untouched. The entirety of the Ode and it’s damaging effects faded after the first five minutes.” Harold answers.

“That’s it?” Herbert asks. “It’s been two and a half hours, what was the wait about?”

“Taking a full inventory of the scanner damage and just how it was damaged. I have a copy of the data here.” Harold replies as he puts a data-chit on Herbert’s desk.

“Perfect. Now, what the hell are we going to do next?” Herbert asks.

“We need to look at this situation as clearly as possible and without anything influencing us. So let’s start with the facts.” Admiral Cistern tells them.

“Fact one, the supernatural boogiemen known as The Hollow Daughters are not only very real, which was previously confirmed, but can be encountered in areas beyond their summoning and the performing of their duties. They can be spoken to, reasoned with, bargained with and understood.” Herbert says.

“Fact two, The Hollow Daughters are now confirmed to be heavy Ode Users, meaning they have a damaging effect on technology that was previously unrecorded for some reason. Furthermore, at least one member has proven to have an interest in Ode infused weaponry.” Harold says.

Fact three, The Hollow Daughters have a clearly different perspectives on their own behaviour and of life itself. They might in fact not consider their actions a form of death and potentially the summoning of a Hollow Daughter is part of a reproductive ritual.” Herbert continues.

“They are very distant, psychologically from their time as a flesh and blood person. The Daughter we spoke to seemed uncertain if bleeding was unhealthy for me.” Harold notes. “Also, they are not hostile. At all. She was strange, she had clearly unusual perspectives and firm boundaries. But she was neither hostile, nor even unfriendly. Honestly she treated us the way that a lot of women treat me in my Private Stream or similar personas. As a child to be gently guided away from potential harm.” Herbert notes.

“Hmm... so, in conclusion we have a dangerous, potentially lethal way to call The Hollow Daughters and they’re free to open a dialogue with.”

“There was also the implication that their contracts are in fact gifts to newly adopted members of their community.”

“Implication nothing, she outright said it.”

“What a person says and what a person means can have an unfortunately wide gulf.”

“Gentlemen.” Admiral Cistern interrupts the debate. “Commodore Jameson, you are to go over the report that Operative Jameson has furnished and confirm, deny, elaborate upon and effectively correct his report to the best of your abilities. Then you are to return to your posting at The Incomprehensible.”

“... No commentary about the name of the ship?”

“The galaxy is an absurd place Commodore, I see no fault in mocking it, you kept to the appropriate naming convention that is all.”

“Yes sir.” Harold says before standing up. “I can go over the report on The Inevitable if you like.”

“No. Do it here. The less the information has to travel the more comfortable I am with it.”

“I highly doubt this information can be used against us. The methods for making contact and the superstition surrounding The Hollow Daughters by itself will stave off much.” Herbert says.

“I don’t fear people using this information against us, I fear people getting themselves killed or causing mass infrastructure damage due to misusing the information.”

“And then people can point fingers at The Undaunted for releasing the information, even if they stole it off our servers directly.”

“Oh god, why did you have to remind me about those puritanical tyrants?” Herbert asks in a moan as he remembers the MAAM, or Mothers Against Awful Militaries. He puts his head on his desk. “I’m in my thirties! I’m a father! I don’t need a damn candy pop and a hug!”

“Brother, you know as well as I do that playing into the Private Stream and other personas makes your whining very, very hypocritical.” Harold says and gets a fully raised middle finger from Herbert. “I was split off from you before you were finished dealing with those headaches, how did that end?”

“We were contemplating planting incriminating photos on them when we actually found some. So we just released things to the public and then openly admitted we were intending to frame them when we found things. The fact I’m willing to be a devious little demon means that my innocent appearance was somewhat shaken and they had to treat me with more respect.”

“Has that interfered with your stealth any?” Harold asks.

“Of course not. The MAAM were a flavour of the minute controversy that didn’t live in the cultural memory a single minute longer than when they left the common news room.” Herbert answers. “But that also means that another group has started up. It’s another mother based one, guess what it’s called?”

“What the public calls them or what we’ve been calling them in our English acronyms.?” Harold asks.

“Both.”

“Hmm... well we’re on Centris so stupid cults and conspiracies abound... and there IS a proper English acronym right?” he asks and Herbert nods. “I’m going with MOM. Mothers On Missions. And their Centris facing name is the... August Order of Ordained Mothers seeking betterment for all sons, brothers and fathers of Centris.”

“Heh you got the first part right. The Adroit Order of Motherhood is what they’re known as in Centris.”

“Aom? Sounds like a meditative mumble. How are they being annoying?”

“Apparently the Private Stream initiative is offensive to all children, peoples of shorter stature and the like. They’re still working up a steam.” Herbert says.

“Alright, you two have clearly lost focus. Commodore, I want that modified report in my inbox within three hours. Then and only then, back to your ship. Understand?”

“Sir, yes sir.”

“Good man.”

First Last

First

Before the War

Everyone’s statement was taken and quickly sent to the rest of Intelligence to log, decipher and interpret in about a thousand different ways. They had given their testimonies twice, once in galactic trade and again in Gravia Formulaic. The extremely precise language that was less a language and more a series of audibly expressed calculations.

Now he was sitting side by side with Banshee and his ingrained reflexes to put on the cutie cute routine while in his Private Stream uniform has him lightly kicking his feet and swaying a little with a big smile on his face.

His axiom presence is full of happiness and good natured curiosity and is a complete hoax. But he’s learned how to be too cute to suspect on every level. It’s been tested with holograms and fake knives. But he can stab people in public and witnesses will think he’s trying to help and not the perpetrator. It’s hilarious.

“Your Axiom presence almost feels authentic!” One of the Gravia gushes.

“I know right? It’s taken a lot of work to be this deliberately cute.”

“You’re worked hard for your social camouflage, it’s nearly effortless from what I can see.”

“Part of it is effortless, my family naturally has the looks for it, but keeping up certain attitudes and mannerisms is what takes effort. My voice is cute, my face is cute, my form is adorable, if I just act the part, which is the hard part, then it all works peachy keen!” he chimes out and there are some sighs around the room. He giggles at that it the situation nearly devolves.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun little one. Now, what does it feel like for you to flex your ability, and would you mind explaining it in full?”

“Certainly. Now, I’m not sure how much you know about Ode use or Ode abilities, but you’re already tapping into it with your seeking the music of the spheres, so I’ll let you know about the practical applications that have naturally occured over the galaxy. One of them is one you’re probably familiar with. Matriarch Syndrome.”

“Really?”

“Yes, we’ve tested it. It turns out that a slight amount of Ode energy runs through the nervous system and isi n the highest concentration around the wombs of those who have it. Meaning we can now test if a woman has the syndrome before they have their first child now. Make sense?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Now, as you have all noticed and told me, myself and my clone Harold both have distinctly different presences in the music of the spheres. But all Jamesons you’ve run into have it. Well, the part you detect in all of us is tied to these markings on my face and the strange eyes I have. Basically, I can physically see into the energy field you’re hearing. But there’s nothing to really see. The energy then runs off through my eyes and is converted into Axiom by my markings. It’s why I can set my Axiom presence to be so over the top friendly.”

“Very interesting, and this is universal among the Jamesons?”

“Every single one of us with the white eyes and facial markings will have the same incredible axiom presence and it’s all a side effect of what we can see. But, we have a secondary effect, and it only starts at roughly the age I’m currently at.” Herbert explains. “Now, as I was a full adult before being regressed to this state, I still have access to this ability. And indeed, I’ve grown to master it now that I’m aware of it. But it’s a powerful awareness ability where i can influence the awareness others have of me. Normally it’s defensive in nature, making us unassuming and easy to overlook.”

“And why would that be a defence?” One of them asks and Herbert takes off his hat and just looks at her. Maintains the gaze and there is a slight sound of understanding from the woman. “How bad was it?”

“No one’s ever given me a name, but I had a cousin vanish. My family has gotten really careful about our preteen and young teenage members in the last few generations. Or maybe we needed to be extra vigilant because the world opened up technology wise to us. Either way, when you’re incredibly good looking and not well connected, people that refuse the answer of NO can and will do terrible things.” Herbert answers.

“That’s horrifying!” Someone exclaims and he shrugs.

“Maybe, maybe not. My parents claim I had a cousin vanish because they were too accepting of strangers and too friendly with them. But that might have just been parental scare tactics. Reasonable ones mind you, when I put on even a small show I get women trying to kidnap me all the time. So when they say that I a had a cousin go missing after accepting free candy from a stranger, I believe it possible, whether it’s true... that’s debatable.”

“And how will you deal with that same issue?” 1NT3G3R asks.

“I’ll honestly tell them they’re scary good looking and terrible, horrible, awful people won’t be able to stop themselves from doing terrible things to them. So stay as close to family as possible and never go out without an emergency teleport beacon.” Herbert says. “But we’re not hear about my family issues, although I do suggest that if you have any friends that adopted one of my siblings to please tell them this. I’ve already sent the warning and want to make sure that the message gets hammered in good and deep, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, now I’m going to waver in and out of sight, sometimes I’ll be irresistible to look at, other times I’ll be impossible to see. Just listen for the song as I go back and forth a few times.” Herbert offers.

“Thank you. Now, are you ready?” 1NT3G3R asks and he nods.

“I’m just waiting for your go ahead.” He says. “Although I suggest everyone closes their eyes. It wouldn’t do for people to lose control.”

“Or we can just turn around. We’re listening, not watching after all.” 1NT3G3R notes.

“That too.” Herbert agrees.

“Alright girls, everyone look away, and now Mister Jameson, please use your power. Going unnoticeable then unignorable ten times each.”

“On it.” Herbert says and after everyone turns away from him things quickly start changing. There are slight notes of interest from the Gravia in the room and Banshee lets out a thoughtful little hum.

The song... shifts and wavers ever so, seeming to come out of the background and make itself more clear and then fading away. Lilting forwards and back and shifting ever so slightly.

Then something else adds to the song ever so slightly and there is a sense of something approaching. But it’s not far away. There is no far away. It’s not close for there is no close. But it is near. Then it is here.

Herbert’s eyes snap open and he’s face to face with a crystalline visage that seems startled as his eyes lock with hers. Then she... she’s not leaving because there is neither near nor far. But she isn’t here anymore.

“What are you, shy?” He asks the now empty air with an incredulous tone.

“What was that?”

“I have no idea what they call themselves. But they’re smart enough to speak. And if you have the picture of one then they can be the picture and move. For as much sense as that makes.” Herbert says.

“What do they say?’

“They seem to be concerned with souls. Worried that we might harm them.” Herbert explains.

“When did that happen?”

“More detail is classified I’m afraid.” Herbert remarks. “Needless to say, it’s not ONE creature, it’s a species that lives in the Od.

“Then she would know the song, she would have lived her whole life in it.”

“Potentially, but just spotting one is so rare that it’s what brought me over. And now they’ve taken a look again and left.”

“Is there any way to make them stay and speak?” 1NT3G3R asks.

“None that I know. No way to detain them and they seem to be very cautious of us three dimensional types.” Herbert notes as he hops off the seat. “Now, did you all get what you hoped for?”

“We did. There was much of the song that we’ve heard. And the way you brought it forward and back as you shifted your presence was fascinating. You say that Matriarch Syndrome is another ability that should augment our ability to hear?”

“It should. It has the same source. There are other gifts that can show up in families or individuals. They’re usually pretty subtle unless you know what to look for. Before we understood what was going on I thought I just came from a family that made very pretty kids but our looks fell off as adults.” Herbert says.

“Are there others you know of?”

“Yes, but I am not in a position to disclose private information. Make a formal request of The Undaunted for this information, specify it as a list of known individuals with natural Ode abilities and you’ll get what you want.” Herbert says. “Still... thank you all for your cooperation and... could you please give me another report? We’re trying to learn about these Od people and every bit helps.”

“Certainly, but what’s your intention with them?”

“That depends entirely on some of the answers we get. If they’re naturally isolationists then just knowing how to respect their borders is enough for now. If they’re willing to trade or converse? Then we’ve got something going.” Herbert notes before shrugging. “Still, I’m in Intelligence, not Diplomacy, so what do I know?”

“A great deal considering how closely tied together Intelligence and Diplomatic efforts are.” 1NT3G3R remarks.

“Heh, fair.”

“Still, we’ll give our own reports about things so you can understand even better.”

“Thank you all.” Herbert says.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (The RAD, The Inevitable, Primary Laneway)•-•-•

He is adjusting the flow of Axiom through the gunk that had been produced. It wasn’t an elegant poison. It was brute force nonsense that would hit over-saturation and destroy not just the nervous system in short order, but it would also reduce the kidney and liver to shrivelled chunks of black coal.

Was that on purpose? Was it enough? There was no way of telling without a Haffara Thar to test things on. But he was trying to see if there was some... some sort of special frequency where the substance was on a blade. He had one with trytite traceries in it to modify the Axiom going through it, he had some with khutha worked into the blades, one made of pure iron, one of folded steel and each one had two versions, one where the substance was smeared on the blade and the other where it was in a little compartment in the blade.

But there was nothing happening. The material of the blades seemed to mean nothing, as did the frequency of the Axiom he was running through it all.

“I’m missing something.” He notes to himself as the chemical scanners, Axiom scanners and even the thermal scanners show no change in the differing knives.

“Duh.” Herbert says suddenly there beside him and dodges a swipe that doesn’t come. “Wait, did you know I was here?”

“No, but I didn’t sense any threat.”

“... Right, damn so there really is no way around that combat instinct. Makes a man think.” Herbert notes.

“How’d it go?” Harold asks.

“Strange. Our poking into the visit and paying back the cooperation ended up in a second. The crystal women are taking a clear interest in us.”

“Did she resemble any of the others?”

“Hmm... I think she had narrower eyes. It’s hard to tell though.” Herbert says as he looks over things. “You know... dealing with... Od things has me thinking...”

“You think the Haffara Thar might be Od entities?”

“I’ve done my digging. There’s a lot of questions surrounding the creatures. The hows, whys and things like that are unanswered. We know they cause regeneration and madness. That entire lost limbs can be grown back. But that it’s not using Axiom. That’s the bit that has everyone confused.”

“So by process of elimination if they’re not using Axiom as a power source they must be using Ode?” Harold asks.

“Logically. Unless there’s suddenly a third source of energy that they’re tapped into, but I don’t really have any evidence for that but suspicion.” Herbert says as he climbs up.

“Hmm... then testing it is going to be a bitch. Even here we’re not far from Hargath.”

“Far doesn’t really exist in the Od.”

“Yeah. Nor does speed or movement. Not really. Which means even though we’re moving at bullshit speeds...”

“They can still tear us apart if we get cocky.” Herbert says and Harold smirks.

“Ah well. In for a penny in for a pound.” Harold says as he puts his hand on the contact point for one of the knives and then considers, then puts his hand on it’s hollowed out double.

“I’ll get the medics and hazmat ready. You’re about to get leaky.” Herbert remarks as he steps away from Harold.

“Hey, no one’s ever accused me of being sane.”

“Course not, it’s a filthy word.” Herbert says and Harold chuckles before he suddenly heaves on the Ode.

Blood flies as chunks are torn out of his arms, the scanners start blaring emergency warnings and the blades CHANGE under the Ode.

First Last

First

(Hopefully whatever malaise is having me struggle to write passes.)

Before the War

She sits down in the strange room. There is a variety of instruments in scones on the wall and soundproofing beyond it, the seat itself has all the same parts and axiom flows of speakers and the Gravia all find places to sit around her.

“So how does this work?” Banshee asks.

“Just sit down and focus on what you remember of the song, you should hear something similar, it’s not your memory failing you, it’s you hearing something anew. Remember, the song is never the same twice, it’s always different, always changing. Because you’re changing, the galaxy is changing. You last heard it clearly in a time of great pain, but the pain is gone now, at least physically. It’s hardened you, strengthened you and you have passed through that darkness. You are different, so of course, you will hear something different, and the very things that produce the song have changed too.”

“It will rhyme, but not repeat.” Banshee says.

“Exactly, now sit. And listen.” 1NT3G3R bids her.

She does so, taking a deep breath. She remembers the island, with numerous tiny totems she had buried around it to hide. Unable to die, but still murdered. She had... she...

She could no longer even remember why she had been condemned to such a fate. Perhaps The Shadow was simply caught up in a fit of petty wrath and spite? Perhaps she had fought back in a way that had drawn great offence? Maybe she was even one of The Shadow’s willing servants and had somehow failed her?

She doubts that last one, there was no sensation or sting of betrayal. No feeling of anything like that. So in all likelihood she had been an enemy or victim of The Shadow and not it’s ally.

She takes a deep breath and there is... it’s not... it isn’t an instrument. It’s a gap. A slight, hitch in things.

It’s in her heartbeat, it’s in her breath and the vibrations of the ship. It’s in the breathing of the Gravia around them and their own heartbeats, for all that Gravia have hearts. It’s in those tiny places where all of it is silence. A single moment of meaning so brief it’s nearly impossible to perceive.

It doesn’t take long and she starts to hear it. Only to realize she’s exhaling in pattern to it, she’s parsed lips or a rumbling throat away from whistling or humming along.

She lets go of her reservations of it and a haltering hum that is very close but not quite right emerges from her throat. It takes a little and then... for just a few moments...

Harmony.

Then it’s finished and... every little hum seems to be... wrong. Inherently wrong, utterly wrong. Increasingly gauche and just plain incorrect.

She sighs and then throws herself into it and she finds the metaphorical crack and... The world around her fades away and she just... it...

Is it a melody? Is it something else? Is it everything? Is it nothing? It’s... it’s... it’s over and her eyes snap open.

The eyes of the Gravia around her open as she draws up her legs and tries to make sense of just what the hell had just happened.

“We got it.” One of them says.

“She opened it, for a moment.”

“Indeed she did, and the crack is a touch wider now.” 1NT3G3R says with a smile. “How did it feel Saint Bluelaser?”

“Like... for a moment, everything was just... right.”

“That’s what we seek. Many of us believe that it’s what allows The Primals to endure well beyond what their psychological profiles or physical brains are capable of. Clear memories going back millenia, the emotional maturity to endure it all in a manner that few can.”

“I seem to recall that one of them, the first no less, went crazy for a time?”

“The portion of that old tale that most miss is that she was ten thousand years of age at the youngest at that point. It took her ten thousand years of enduring what can break people in a single instance to start performing those kinds of wicked deeds. She had personally lost thousands, potentially even millions of people at that point. Even her breaking was a sheer testament to her resilience, and the moment she succeeded, even if it was in a way she did not expect, she stopped, surrendered. Still sane, still reasonable, still capable.”

“And you think this song helped with that?”

“I think, that when you were trapped in darkness and despair, that it helped you persevere. Or rather, it kept renewing your strength, you endured. The First endured. Lady Yserizan White Flow endured. Lady Bazalash endured, Lady Rikaxza endured. Salsharin also known as Quozathis endured.”

“And is that what you want from this?” Banshee asks. “The power to Endure?”

“While that would be nice, such a thing is a side effect to our true goal of understanding. Call it what you will, comprehension, understanding, enlightenment, it’s all the same. It is a greater knowing of things we seek.”

“So you’re not really trying to get anything.”

“Anything beyond knowing more things, is just a pleasant bonus. We want to know. I wish to hear the entirety of the song at once. But balancing it? Finding out how to hear as much of the song as possible? That is what I seek.” 1NT3G3R answers.

“Right, so are we going to do this... again...?” She slowly turns as there is a sense of something.

She starts scanning the room. Looking around but what it is is...

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s a gap in the sound.” Banshee replies as her ears twitches. “It’s moving, but... I can... I can hear where it’s hearing me? I think? It makes no sense and... it’s gone.”

“What happened? There was a slight distortion into the melody... one we’ve seen before but never explained.”

“Something was here. It heard us and came. Then left.” Banshee replies.

“What was it?”

“I don’t know... but I do know that things have been seen living in the other side. In the Od as the Undaunted prefer to call it.”

“Od?”

“Other Direction. It apparently lines up in one of their primary languages.”

“We’ve tried requesting information from The Undaunted about what the call The Other Direction, but they’ve been tight lipped.”

“They want to make sure that there are countermeasures in place first. They regard it as extremely dangerous and if it falls into the wrong hands can cause immense harm.”

“They think we’re the wrong hands?”

“More like they think that the more people know something the easier it is for the wrong people to learn of it too. But they also know that they’re at best stalling for time and are trying to find ways to disrupt or prevent it’s use if they have to. Thankfully the hard part of using it directly is keeping it safe for now.”

“Yes, it’s one of the things that long stopped the song of the spheres from being quickly deciphered, no instrument can directly pick it up, and sticking your head into it is just asking to lose it.”

“Did you not think of finding a way to disrupt the hargath?”

“While possible it would both in theory and practice destroy the melody and disrupt it as well. And before you ask, we’ve already offered to share our notes from the earlier explorations into the field and we found that The Undaunted have already reached all the same conclusions and built off them to the extent that they’re experts in a field we’ve dabbled in. They might not always be the brightest but the motivation on those men is nothing short of commendable.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (The RAM, The Inevitable, Primary Laneway)•-•-•

“Sir?” The Engineer asks as Harold shakes himself out of the short stupor. “What’s wrong?”

“Something I need to investigate. I’m going to have ask you to use your best judgment when it comes to the smaller details of the ship.”

“Sir?”

“Something just came back, and I need to report it.” He says before taking a few steps away for some privacy. He holds down a button on a communicator he brings out. “This is Harold Jameson, I am reporting a sighting of the crystalline women. This time at enormous distance and the corner of my eye, but it was clearly one of them and keeping apace with The Inevitable. Time is seventeen thirteen. Confirm.”

“Confirmed, will you be investigating?”

“I am requesting an Ode capable soldier be sent to investigate, but am willing to do so myself if I none can be spared.” Harold says and there’s a brief pause.

“Your brother is on his field duty rotation, but you already knew that didn’t you?”

“I had hoped nothing would prevent it.” Harold says and there’s a chuckle on the other end.

“We’ll be sending him over through sorcerers, any instance of Ode Manifestations or Od Lifeforms requires investigation. But get back to your job. We need the...” There’s a sigh on the other end. “Are you positive you want to go with that ship name?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Fits the theme AND if you think about it, makes a lot of sense considering how much it’s going to slam things through information warfare.”

“Right, well We need The Incomprehensible up and running with as few issues as possible.”

“Copy that.”

“I think I hate you, that’s a terrible ship name.”

“It’s a perfect ship name, it’s information warfare and it brings far more than just itself, what does it bring? There’s no way of knowing! It’s incomprehensible!”

“Still stupid.”

“So you’re inconsolable about this?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Oh don’t be unreasonable.”

“Good bye.”

The line ends and Harold considers, then grins.

“I’m still not sure about the name myself sir.” The Engineer says.

“It’s Incomprehensible?” Harold teases.

“Something like that.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Resonance Chamber, The Winding Spear, Primary Laneway)•-•-•

There’s a knock at the door. At first no one notices but Banshee’s ear twitches and look towards it. Everyone else follows her gaze and then they all hear the second set of knocks.

“Hello? Hello? If no one can hear me I’m going to come in, I need to talk to you.” A voice that is pure innocence asks and 1NT3G3R recognizes the voice and runs for the door.

“Hello!” Herbert proclaims in his Private Stream best. “I’m Private Stream with The Undaunted, I am Private Stream and...”

1NT3G3R has crouched down to his level and puts her hands on his shoulders. She’s beaming at him. “And what purpose has brought you to us little one?”

“Something showed up not long ago, we always make a point of taking a look at those kinds of things.” Herbert explains.

“So you’re not here to share the songs?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I want to make sure everyone’s okay and figure everything out.” Herbert says. “Now... according to my brother, there was a manifestation here. He saw it at a distance. Well, sort of. Distance is a hazy concept in the ways we can see.”

“So there was one of those crystal women? I’ve seen them before, why didn’t I see her this time, I looked right at the gap.”

“I dunno. I’m just here to get your statement, make sure everything is alright and that sort of thing.” Herbert says.

“Okay it is just criminal that one of the greatest sources of the song is so totally adorable. Hearing it is so hard when you just totally wanna scream about how cute he is!” One of the Gravia mutters as her accent slips through.

“I know Fairest42, I know.” The Gravia right next to her says comfortingly.

“... Right, right okay. How about this for a deal? You all cooperate with me as much as you can and I’ll flex my Ode abilities back and forth ten times while you all listen.”

“You don’t need to make a deal for the information young man.” 1NT3G3R says.

“You’d be surprised, with a little incentive people tend to wrack their brains a lot harder for anything they might have noticed. So think good and hard. Now, Banshee care to quickly record your every thought about the visitation on this please?” HE asks holding out a communicator.

“Oh, certainly.”

“Yes, sorry for the disruption in your get together girls. If you really don’t like the idea of being paid to help, then think of my cooperation as more me apologizing for mucking things up for you.” Herbert offers.

“That would be greatly appreciated, honestly if we could get your sibling in here as well for our observation then we would really have a fascinating session. We’d be the envy of every girl in our branch of the Primalist Faith.”

“I’ll talk to him. But he’s really, super busy.” Herbert offers.

First Last

First

(... I don’t know why this one didn’t want to be written, I can’t find anything too odd in it to make that happen.)

Before the War

She’s leaning against the engine. Things had never bothered her before, she had liked the music before. Back when it was something of hers and hers alone. But now that it’s something greater from beyond?

She’s leaning against the engine to drown out the sound she’s not able to stop herself from listening for. Go figure that the little tune that kept her mind in one piece wasn’t something of her own. But something else and... is it better? Is it worse? It’s not some inner strength that saw her through the impossible and unimaginable. It was her listening to something singing and...

Should she be grateful? Disappointing? Angry? Happy? It’s not her. It’s not her own It’s... something else. The Melody of the Spheres or Music of the Spheres or whatever the hell...

“A random accidental trait of things kept me sane, not my own strength. Great.” Banshee mutters to herself and pauses. Thinks and wonders...

She can’t remember her old name. Almost all her life before the island was just... burned away by the pain. She had spent time among the free cities trying to trace her old life. But... no one was left of it. Did she have a daughter somewhere? A mother perhaps?

Genetically she was related to about a full quarter of all the Phosa on Lakran. Due to the way they had reproduced she was genetically somewhere between a twin sister, daughter and a mother to them. Finding out which one was hers wasn’t working.

It was one of the reasons she had been eager to leave the world when Harold had come calling for girls who wanted a job that could go from boring to dangerous and back again without rhyme or reason.

And it had been that, and also taken them off world for incredible adventures, but that was more implied as he had shown up on his own space ship and literally shouted the job offer from the side before vetting the literal thousands of people who signed up in a hurry.

He knocked out all but a hundred of them by doing a quick flash of Axiom and gauging their reactions. Anyone scared and uncertain were thanked for their time and shown the door out. The rest he did a quick interview where he got your basic information and the entire time was playing some sort of game with his Axiom Presence. Banshee had called him out on it. She had passed.

After that was a simple series of questions, she had answered correctly and now was here.

She could feel the ship vibrating ever so slightly. The vibrations through the metal and slight sensations. Everything is just...

She exhales and looks at her hand. For a moment it’s a withered and ruined thing, pale skin with tiny tufts of black fur clinging to bones with the nails gnarled and hooked in the sheer deprivation. She flicks herself in her own forehead and walks away from the engine. She has not come this far, done this much and remade herself during her second chance to mope. She’s given herself a half hour of self pity, that’s a half hour too much.

She walks through The Bloody Heron and heads up to the comm centre that had been set up for the use of her platoon.

She contacts the Winding Spear and waits for a moment. A Nagasha answers and stares for a moment. “Saint Bluelaser! What... what an honour! What is it you wish of me? How can I...”

“I wish to speak more to those seekers. The ones interested in the song. I need a bit to internalize that it wasn’t just strength from within, but strength from the galaxy... perhaps the universe itself pouring through me that sustained me in my darkest hour. I want to learn more about this song. I want to learn more about the Song of the Spheres.”

“OF course! I’ll contact them right away My Lady.”

Banshee nods and the Nagasha turns away for a moment and there is a message on the screen to show that she’s connecting another person into the call. Then 1NT3G3R appears on screen and smiles.

“Saint Bluelaser! I am pleased that you are calling me, do you wish to hear more of the Song of the Spheres?”

“I do. In fact, I want to hear as much of it as I can. Just the bit I had when I was at my lowest gave me the strength to keep going. I can only imagine how much more I will be when I can hear more of the song.”

“Yes! You understand! It is... beautiful! It is all things, it is everything.” 1NT3G3R says excitedly.

“Alright, how do we do this?”

“I’m going to get permission for you to join us here on the ship. Then we will work in a circle to open your mind to the song, to make it clearer and more easily heard. Then with you hearing it clearly it will reverberate out from you all the more clearly. Allowing us to hear more and to record it.” 1NT3G3R explains.

“All right, I’ll get permission to join you on your ship and we will get this done.” Banshee says.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Primary Portal Chamber, The Bloody Heron, Primary Laneway)•-•-•

“Why are you so... defensive?” Banshee asks Bjorn who’s waiting with her.

“I have a question for them. I don’t doubt that you can take care of yourself, but something occurred to me. Something that has me concerned.”

“And what’s it about?”

“If this song can be heard from you, and from Harold and Herbert... then what about the others? Remember, Harold is merely the oldest clone.”

“That... is a very good point.” Banshee says as she realizes just what the implications are.

The portal activates and 1NT3G3R walks out followed by her fellows.

“Lieutenant Veers, Lady Bluelaser.

“1NT3G3R, before I let me soldier depart, I do have a question for you.”

“Of course.”

“You have mentioned that Harold Jameson also produces these bits of celestial music, correct?”

“He does.”

“I do not believe that you and your order would not have looked to the others of the Jameson line, in particular, the children.”

“We have. Incidentally Harold himself has brought this up.”

“And the answer is?”

“They do produce some of the music. But due to their younger ages, it’s considerably less.”

“But weren’t they all changed at the same time or...”

“They were, but Herbert and Harold are making active use of... something from beyond that is allowing the song to be heard more clearly from each of them, and varies them as well. While all Jamesons have some basic aspects more clearly heard through them, Harold and Herbert not only produce more but in differing manners. There are some notes that only Herbert produces, and others only Harold does.

“What’s it like?” Banshee asks and 1NT3G3R produces a small case and plucks out a single small rod. She extends it to reveal tiny speakers and a crystalline sound rings out. Like someone hammering on crystal keys far, far away. Jsut barely within hearing range. A tinkling melody. She then closes it. “All Jameson’s produce that sound from beyond.”

“This one is Herbert.” She says putting the first rod away and then bringing up another. The music that comes from it has an accompaniment of something wooden and breezy, like a strange flute from very, very far away. After a few moments of it she closes the recording device and brings up a third. “Here is what we have of Harold’s so far.”

The crystal tinkling is there, but there is something else, a thumping from far away that cannot be fully heard. It’s wooden as well, but more like someone is hammering at a hollow log to accompany the crystal chimes.

“There’s more to it, to both of them, but without their express permission we won’t try to hear it any more clearly.”

“You described hearing the music from me like having a crack in the soundproofing. Is it the same for the Jamesons?”

“Not exactly. It’s closer to hearing from a small hole deliberately drilled through it. Small and pinpoint for the children, but to continue the metaphor, the drill was moved around a fair amount for the elder two Jamesons to widen the hole furhter, but hte different portions of the wall they’re drilled into means that they’re catching different parts of the melody.”

“How long do they go on for?”

“Endlessly, there is no repetition. Not really as we understand it. We’ve attempted to find if any part of the music ever repeats but... it doesn’t repeat, it rhymes instead. It can get close to a previous portion of the song but... It’s more a spiral chasing a central point, ever widening and never finding the centre. It’s always moving in the same way, but the part you heard is never truly repeated.”

“So what do you hope to learn if it never repeats? How can you find it’s pattern?”

“Because the motions remain the same, but always somewhat different. Everything is reacting to everything else and if you understand how they react to each other you get further understanding.”

“But... why does it change so much? So endlessly?” Bjorn asks.

“Entropy. Everything is being destroyed, remade and renewed and decaying and always, always changing. That’s why the exact nature of the song changes from moment to moment, because it’s always with new instruments.” 1NT3G3R explains.

“That... that’s powerful, and interesting.” Bjorn says in a considering tone. “... I just had another idea. Excuse me please. Banshee, will you be alright?”

“I should be, thank you Lieutenant.” Banshee says and steps forward. “So, let’s do this.”

“This way please Saint Bluelaser.

“You do know I use more weapons than a blue shifted laser right?” Banshee asks as she follows them into the portal.

After a minute the portal deactivates and leaves the frame behind. Bjorn then pulls out his communicator and goes through his contacts. It takes a few moments to go through.”

“Lieutenant Veers?” Harold asks.

“Commodore, my soldier Banshee is currently speaking to the Primalist Gravias. They’ve spoken about increasing their understanding of the music of the spheres with her help and she has consenting.”

“I see, I presume that this goes beyond just her indulging in some religious curiosity.”

“... Do you think this might be useful?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we have a religious group looking into what has to be some kind of resonation frequency hailing from The Other Direction, and we’re going in to face something that is apparently unkillable. Perhaps they can offer some insight.”

“True... very true. I will be frank with them when my business is finished, but I still have a fair amount to do at the moment. But who knows, maybe the answer is in the song or something?” Harold asks.

“Maybe, maybe not sir. I just figured you’d be interested in it.” Bjorn says.

“What are you not saying soldier?”

“They claimed they’ve already informed you of the fact they’ve examined your fellow clones.”

“Oh, that. Yes. In fact no small number of them have been full on adopted by them. I quickly ran it by Herbert and he sent the information back that a full percentile of my clone siblings have been adopted by members of this offshoot of the primalist faith. Herbert is re-examining them all now, but so far they’ve all been on the up and up. They’re just... parents more interested in the fact their new bouncing baby is musically inclined in an odd way rather than slathering over the fact they’re a boy.”

“... Sir, what are YOU not saying?”

“We’ve had to separate some of my siblings from their would be parents. Or rather, from their would be wives in some few decades.”

“Groomers?”

“Husband Husbandry. Not quite as heinous, but still fairly disgusting.” Harold says.

“Great, just what I wanted to hear about.”

“Hey, you asked.” Harold says.

“What about the other clones?”

“It was prevalent enough that we’ve gotten a new branch just looking into all the clones of all our soldiers and making sure that they’re not ending up in abusive families.” Harold says.

“... I know it’s basically impossible for me to not have been cloned at this point. Is anything confirmed in that direction?”

“... The policy is discretion unless we’re directly asked. It’s a lot easier on the minds of others.”

“I just want a number.”

“Four.”

“... Nowhere near as bad as I feared.”

“Yeah, if you want I can send you a status update about them, so you’ll know where we had them placed. I think... Yes, one is with a Kruga family is all I can remember off the top of my head.”

“So there’s a mini-me who’s mom’s a gorilla. Hunh.” Bjorn notes. “You know considering my name I was sure that one would be an Osadub or some other previously unnamed bear based species.”

“I can tag that as recommendation if we find another.” Harold says.

“No. How do you know this?”

“I talk with Herbert a lot, the classified stuff I don’t get access to, but anywhere where the name of Saint Redblade might be useful he runs it by me first to make sure I’m at least aware of it. And adoption efforts and vetting programs with my face and name on it are a big part of how we’re keeping track of this.”

“The power of popularity.” Bjorn notes.

“Indeed. Anyways, is there anything else?” Harold asks.

“No. I wanted to give you a heads up and now I have a lot to think about. My little brothers for instance.”

“Yeah, I’ll send you the files soon.”

“I appreciate it sir.”

“Alright, Jameson out.” Harold says and the line cuts off.

Bjorn just stares at it for a moment and pockets the communicator. He then leans against the wall. “Just four? I’m not sure whether to be relieved, insulted or just curious. I wonder what their names are.”

First Last

First

(This chapter did not cooperate.)

Before the War

The holograms of the room stretch out into the distance. Further and further. Using numerous tricks in the axiom and tricks of the eye to simulate a further and further target. Mostly by shrinking it and adding more and more variables along the ‘path’ of the ‘bullet’.

She runs the odds, the calculations and double checks the math in her head without looking to her little book. She doesn’t pull the trigger, she squeezes it. The weapon doesn’t jump or hitch in her hands, it just shifts ever so.

“Fuck.” She mutters. A hand length off target at a mere two kilometres.

“Why are you trying to snipe? You’re melee. Forward guard in position.” One of her squadmates asks and She turns to her then looks away.

“Because I need to be better, better in every way.” She says.

“It’s serious for you big girl. Why?”

“... He could have killed me. He would have gotten away with it too.” She says after a few moments. “I faced a sorcerer, now known as The Bloody Prophetm in an open tournament and taunted him. I knew he was a sorcerer. Apuk or not, he was showing the signs and I provoked him. I tried to poison him, I tried to get him to attack and him shaming me was... merciful.”

“Zyen...”

“When he goes non-lethal he either shames you as he did me, or he near drowns you in a river of blood.” Zyen’Huwt answers. “The Cinder Monks made me realize just how closely I had come to seeing my own death, just how... foolish I had been. Yet also that being shamed in that way was... too much.”

She’s been pulling apart the false weapon and examining it to make sure nothing in it threw off her aim. Then she slots it all back together and sights down the length again. “I wanted glory and honour, I wanted it so bad I found shame and nearly death.”

Despite the efforts of the holo-chamber the target seems to expand in her mind’s eye until it take up the entire room. She fires the weapon. And a hole is placed dead centre. The world shifts back to it’s normal state. Then she looks back and sees the Erumenta woman she had been talking to.

“Char, did the room... contort or anything?”

“Not that I saw. You got really quiet and still as you started sighting down the gun though so... maybe you just got in the zone.”

“Maybe I did.” Zyen’Huwt says as she stands up fully and looks down. Despite her best efforts she still stands taller than most. Her certainty from before the tournament was just gone. She could only see how stupid she was before but making herself into something better is... much much easier said than done.

“Right, you wanna spot me? I wanna see if I can pull this off Sergeant.” Char asks and Zyen’Huwt nods and steps to the side.

Char takes the ‘weapon’ and goes through a check. “So... immortal beasties.”

“Yes.”

“Things that only burning or some weirdo poison can really get rid of.”

“Correct.”

“... and a chunk of your Dark Forest is infected.”

“Yes.”

“Fire’s not going to be enough.”

“I don’t know if anything’s going to be enough.” Zyen’Huwt says grimly. “Poison is still an option, but there are four forests now and The Lush Forest proved it’s good with poison, maybe as good with poison as the Dark Forest is with fire. I have no idea what The Bright Forest can do and The Astral Forest is so damn big that... can something like that be fought? It’s big enough to be seen lightyears away. Stars are inside it. It’s so huge that it’s size can only be understood in abstract. To look at all of it from one angle you have to be so far away that you’re not even in the same solar system.”

“Or the ones immediately surrounding it.” Char remarks.

“Yeah.” Zyen’Huwt says and she runs a hand through her hair. It’s back since her time in the monastery. Down to her shoulders and in a simple ponytail, nothing like the luscious princess-like locks of before. She will earn it. The appearence, the power, no shortcuts, no cheap methods. And the next step is to figure out how to defeat what may as well be a totally hostile and immortal sorcerer. Which is... a hell of a challenge.

Could she fight as well as a princess? Maybe. She has some green in her warfire. It’s half green now and the flecks of blue are being overwhelmed bit by bit by the green. Even without The Empress’ training she’s most of the way there. She made it to the final round. That wasn’t a lie. That wasn’t a mistake. In sheer combat ability she’s just a step away.

But being among the best of the best of the Apuk... won’t be enough. She’ll have to be better. Better than all her would be peers. And that’s just to hold off the monster however long enough it takes for whatever counter-measure the rest of the army could bring to bear.

And that’s just against the thing The Undaunted made by accident. The actual threat of the enemy army is another thing entirely. And that’s if they don’t run into something like a minefield or...

“Hey? You here?” Char asks.

“Oh?” Zyen’Huwt asks and she looks around. “Sorry. I got caught up in... what we’re approaching.”

“After a bit. We’re the surrounding force, not the main thrust.” Char says. “We’ll know more before we hit them, and we’ll hit them from an unexpected angle.”

“Not if they have anything in the way of real intelligence.” We’re part of a multifaceted force, there are so many communications going back and forth that even if the odds of them being intercepted are basically non-existent then with how many there’s going to be, they may as well be guaranteed, so we won’t have the element of surprise, not really. They’ll know we’re coming from another angle.” Zyen’Huwt says and there is a pause.

“Right new subject.” Char says.

“Why?”

“I need to think of something else.” Char says before thinking. “Okay, hypothetical situation time.”

“Okay?”

“The situation is, you’re out of The Undaunted, on good terms and are taking a year or two to yourself to bounce around the galaxy and have fun.”

“Okay.”

“And during it you run into and break apart a child smuggling ring. But there’s one kid you can’t find a home for and to make things worse, it’s a little boy.”

“... There’s no way in the galaxy I can’t find a home for a little boy.”

“Okay, not a safe home though because there’s an unknown force still after him.”

“Get him to the Bright Forest then? That one takes in little kids and only the suicidal think they can take a sorcerer.” Zyen’Huwt notes in a dismissive tone.

“Oh for the love of. You’re supposed to say: I’d take him in myself and go on a big galaxy spanning adventure to keep him safe! Then we’re supposed to muse on what would happen and what would go on and who would be after the little guy...”

“Oh come on, how would that happen? You’d need to be in an isolated part of the galaxy without communications going out. And even then, it’d be weird.”

“You need some romance in your life. Some imagination or something girl.”

“Tried it, got caught up in it and shamed on empire wide broadcast and right in front of The Empress. No thanks.” Zyen’Huwt says.

“Really? Not even interested in rescuing the handsome prince taken by the enslaved serpent monsters?”

“Alright, taken where? Who controls them? Is he even alive?”

“Well, he has that thing in him, so maybe he can’t die.”

“Haffara Thar... I’ve done my reading on those things. The most common ones give you maybe a couple of months before your fight or flight instincts get over-tuned to the point you’re basically insane. It takes the thing being removed and years upon years of therapy and quiet living to quell the violence that comes after that. And the prince may not have the most common type, but one of them has him. Will he even be coherent by the time we get him back?”

“Well aren’t we a bundle of sunshine and flowers?” Char asks.

“Sorry. I’m not in the best headspace since I learned our captain is a sorcerer. A new type no less. Everything shifted and shunted around so fast when humans showed up I tripped and broke the trajectory of my own life. And he is a new type of sorcerer.”

“Why don’t you talk to him.”

“You don’t just talk to sorcerers. They’re... well.. Sorcerers. If you can’t fight on princess level then what you do with a sorcerer is get as much distance as you can if you want to live to see the next day. When they go off most bombs aren’t half as dangerous. Bombs are one and done, a Sorcerer keeps going until it’s satisfied.”

“And the big bird steering the ship gives you those vibes? He’s a damn Shriketalon, soft as a feather duster and twice as gentle.”

“He’s a warrior Shriketalon. He hails back to when his people were so bloodthirsty they nearly had the entire Valrin Species contained as violently insane.” Zyen’Huwt counters.

“Yes, because that’s the impression he’s given us. Go talk to him.” Char tells her and Zyen’Huwt scoffs. “No really, go talk to him. You made your mistake with the tournament and such because you didn’t know what was going on, so go and figure out what’s going on here and now.”

“You know what? Fine. You’re right. Lack of knowledge is what got me before. I didn’t think he was a real sorcerer until it was too late, I didn’t think things through until it was too late and now I’m here.” She says as she steps away and then pauses. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Have fun big girl.”

“I really don’t think THAT is what’s going to happen.” She says and there’s some slight giggles from Char.

The ship is... robust. Very robust outside a few rooms. Zyen’Huwt isn’t sure if it’s a thing about Lydris building styles or something else, but every surface looks and feels like the outer wall of a defensive fortification. Which may be needed in order to ensure that there’s nothing in the way of leaks or ruptures to the water the ship is supposedly supposed to take on.

“Hmm... do Aka ships have the same traits? What about Wimparas or Kalikas ships?” She wonders out loud as she moves through the vessel. It doesn’t take her too long to reach the bridge where the Captain is. The door opens in advance.

“Did your forest tell you I was coming?”

“It was more the security cameras. What can I do for you?” Jacob asks.

“Just want your measure. I got into a lot of trouble in the past and seriously messed up due to not even bothering to understand things when a sorcerer was active and around me. I’d rather not repeat my mistakes.” She says.

“Fair, what do you want to know?”

“Where the lines are. What sets you off so I can never do those things?”

“If you do the things that piss me off you’ll have far more than just me to contend with. Well, aside from messing with my ship, but seeing as we’re in the Axiom Lane, that’s a basic survival instinct to not mess with it.”

“And the other things?”

“You a rapist?”

“No.”

“Kidnapper?”

“No.”

“Pedophile?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Murderer?”

“No.”

“Then we should get along fine. I’m not complicated.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. The things that create Sorcerers aren’t the things that a law abiding person gets up to. Usually. Actually I shouldn’t have said that as a full half of all Lush Forest Sorcerers became Sorcerers due to something perfectly legal but ill advised.”

“Half?! How many are there?”

“Two.”

“... So the other sorcerer went through something that wasn’t a crime but still bad enough to drive him out?”

“Basically.”

“What happened?”

“He’s a very quiet man from a very loud family. He was talked over his whole life until it was too much. Nothing illegal or even immoral, just... bad luck and unintentional neglect. No one tried to hurt him, but he was hurt anyways.”

“Oh... heh. And that’s a whole half of all Lush Forest Sorcerers who’ve gone through that?”

“Yeah, a whole half of us.” He says dramatically.

“So... what does your kind of sorcery actually look like? I mean, I got the business from the trees and vines and such, but that’s Dark Forest Sorcery, what’s Lush Forest?”

“Dusty. We make huge use of brambles, grass seeds and smaller animals to get into an area until it’s suddenly choking in scraggly roots and its all growing no matter what. But the seeds smell and look like dust, so when we’re really going at it it looks like we conjured some kind of sandstorm.”

“Hunh.”

“Its actually kind of close to what Astral Forest Sorcery looks like, but they’re more a purple gas than a tan dust storm.”

First Last

First

(Something in the air, have to remind myself to breathe. Can’t focus.)

Before A War

There is a slight blip in the internal systems before it activates. “Lieutenant Veers, we’ve got an allied ship of the Winding Spear requesting to link up portals. They would like to meet your forces.”

“I beg your pardon?” Bjorn asks.

“Just get up here, I’ve got their captain on the comms, I’ve already deferred to matters concerning your platoon to you.” Jacob says.

“On my way.” Bjorn replies and the line closes. He looks over the room where the girls were looking at him a bit, but most of them were in the holo-chamber and just practising their firing drills. Nothing in here is actually real so he doesn’t have to worry about them accidentally hurt themselves. That and he’s not their drill sergeant, he’s their commanding officer.

He shakes himself from the reverie and leaves the holo-chamber.

It takes him few short minutes to walk across the ship’s length as the holo-chamber is closer to the engines than the bridge.

The bridge when he gets there has the soft sound of a hissing hymn in a Nagasha language echoing through it and there is a screen open that shows, instead of a Nagasha, a Gravia woman. Her shifting is odd, most Gravia shift all at once, but in her case every few seconds her form shivers and seems to reset and shift, from a random direction, this time the right. Her form becomes cruder and cruder and it spreads over her like a ripple and then it settles again going up through definition until she seems more real than real, even through the screen.

The Gravia notices him noticing her strangeness and smiles.

“So, you are the man in charge of the forces on that ship are you not?” She asks.

“I am.”

“Good. My name is 1NT3G3R, I lead a small sect of Gravia Primalists and we would like to meet with the Saint on that ship.” She says and Bjorn blinks.

“I beg your pardon? Gravia Primalists? The living math of the Gravid Faith is following the Primal Faith?”

“The two faiths are not so different, each Primal is attuned to a greater truth surpassing simple understandings of life itself. There is also truth to be found within the trinity of saints that emerged with the resurrection of Matrix, Wife of Sequential, and her unborn daughter. One is aboard your vessel.”

“Another is aboard The Inevitable.” Bjorn remarks.

“Yes. Saint Redblade is aboard the Inevitable, Saint Blackstaff is upon Lakran Two Nine Seven and Saint Bluelaser is under your direct command.” 1NT3G3R explains.

“The ultimate decision to whether you speak with her or not will lie with Saint Bluelaser herself. But before we even get there, I will not even bring this to her if you cannot give me a good reason WHY you wish to speak with her.”

“I see. You are protective of her?”

“I am her commanding officer. I am uncertain if you yourself are a military woman, but I am...”

“You are in charge of her and are not only expected to give her commands but ensure she is healthy, supplied and well informed when out on the field and between deployments.”

“Among other things. Yes.” Bjorn agrees. “Now, why do you wish to speak with my soldier and why is it not harassment fuelled by religious fervour?”

“We simply wish to know if she is aware of the Melody of the Spheres.”

“... I beg your pardon?”

“I understand humans also know it as The Music of the Spheres or Musica Universalis.”

“I am unfamiliar with all these terms.” Bjorn states.

“The Melody of the Spheres involves understanding that music, life and all things follow mathematical equations. It’s most easily observed through music and sound, breaking down all noise into math and finding that every melody follows a few equations. Then understanding that other things can also be understood as math and if run through similar equations produce their own melodies. Planets, stars, moons, asteroids, comets and even black holes all add to the equation and fit into the melody.”

“While... interesting. What does this meeting of art and science have to do with The Primals? Where does my soldier fit into this equation?”

“Not quite the equation itself, or at least, that’s not what we want of her. Each person also has a melody of their own to add to the orchestra, but the Primals have a melody that not only is individualistic, but also is reverberating with something else. Something beyond.”

“... Something you saw during the recording of the resurrection.”

“Correct. We’ve observed Saint Redblade from afar, respecting his desire for peace, and he has declined to speak to us at the moment, indicating that he is quite busy. Saint Blackstaff is a great distance away, but a branch of our order is already most of the way to Lakran Two Nine Seven.”

“So what’s your intention? Do you just walk up to her and just listen? Or are you going to interrogate her? Worship her? Study her?”

“We wish to speak with her. Just observing a Saint gives us insight anew, if she is willing to speak with us... then it will be truly enlightening.” 1NT3G3R explains.

“Speak of what? On what? She is more than just an object of religious importance, she has her own private life and she is also a soldier of The Undaunted. Even if you are permitted to speak with her, what will it be about?”

“Merely on whether or not she herself has heard the melody. If she has, then we will hopefully speak more. If not, then I will try to find out why not. But you have my word she will not be attacked or harmed.”

“Or harassed. If my soldier says no and you keep pressing, she won’t need permission to go weapon’s hot on you. I’ll already have solved the issue personally. And it will be only because I have outpaced her sisters in battle. Understand?” He asks her.

“Yes. I do.”

“Good, now I will be presenting the recording of this conversation to Banshee and she will make her own mind about this.”

“You’re not going to order her to simply do this?”

“This is not the field of battle, we are not yet at the war. My orders are to not do something stupid, don’t commit crimes, and maintain your level of training. Is there anything you would like to say to Banshee in question that might help your case?”

“Lady Banshee. I apologize if this appears uncomfortable for your or is unexpected. We simply seek truth and understanding to things. If you do not desire to explain things, that is acceptable. We seek truth, not to bring about pain and suffering to another.” 1NT3G3R explains.

“Very well then. Captain Shriketalon, can I get the call records?”

“Give me a bit.” Jacob says as he reaches out with his left talon and grasps another controller and after roughly a dozen small actions has a file ready. “Access the panel behind you and the file should be there.”

“Thank you captain.” Bjorn notes and leaves the bridge with the video.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Primary Portal Chamber, The Bloody Heron, Primary Laneway)•-•-•

1NT3G3R walks through the portal followed by another four Gravia who are each wearing jewelry in the shape of serpents.

“Ah! The song is beautiful!” One of the unnamed Gravia states and Banshee’s expression shifts somewhat. Bjorn looks to her and back to the Gravia.

“It is very different up close, much more powerful.”

“She was enveloped in the sound until her entirety reverberates with it. Her own personal melody is nearly completely overwhelmed by it.”

Banshee is withdrawing into herself. Bjorn loudly snaps his fingers in response for some attention.

“Ladies, you came here to speak with my soldier, not to gawk at her. If you wish to speak, then speak. If not then please depart.” Bjorn says and there is a moment before 1NT3G3R walks up. She then bows to Banshee.

“Greetings Saint Bluelaser. I am 1NT3G3R, a seeker of the melody. We are able to perceive and translate the frequencies of Axiom, light, gravity and many other forms of energy and galactic fundamentals to find out how they all fit together in the music of the spheres.”

“And you want to... what? Use me like a tuning fork or an antenna to pick up on this music?”

“It’s... not quite like that. There are... ways to hear things or understand them and...” 1NT3G3R begins and then pauses. “You’re... it’s like...”

“What?”

“Like a crack in the soundproofing. Like an orchestra is playing in the next room and a thin crack in the wall is letting the music through.” 1NT3G3R says in an awed tone. “It’s akin to the Primals, but they feel... deliberate. As if they were windows into a greater truth. But you and the other saints? It’s akin to... to hearing what we shouldn’t, from a direction we’re not supposed to hear.”

Banshee sort of withdraws into herself again and then...

A sound that isn’t. A melody that can’t be heard but can be felt that rings in the ears and...

“It kept me sane. When death was forbidden and pain was all I had, there were snippets of music through the suffering. It kept me... here. It wasn’t life. It wasn’t death. But when I was healed I was able to focus and... hear it again. It became easier after I helped Matrix.” Banshee explains as the sensation fades.

“And you can just... hear it?”

“It’s... difficult. Like hearing my own heartbeat. But... for so long it dearly helped me.”

“There are very few Primals who can hear their own melody.”

“Most are born as Primals, the others were changed massively when they came through.” Banshee dismisses with a shrug.

“Lady Saint, may we have your permission to listen to your melody?”

“... Do you have some kind of tool or item that I can just sort of be around or... uh?” Banshee asks.

“I’m afraid not. The reason why our sect of the Primal Faith is so small that few people ever actually hear the melodies. Oh they’re interesting to most people, but more a scientific curiosity. And it requires training and not tools to hear the melodies from the Primals. So it’s generally dismissed as a pseudoscience. However, we do have more mundane tools for the more mundane parts of the melody. We can tell you what a black hole sounds like. How a star sings and can translate their wavelengths in gravity, light and other forces into musical equivalents and it all flows together. But there are always missing portions of the melodies. Portions that the snippets we gather from the Primals actually fit into, but... well there are so few Primals and they have their own lives to live.”

“Uhm... okay. So... what are you actually trying to get to? What’s the goal? What’s going on?” Banshee asks.

“We simply seek truth.”

“Okay... and if I say no, will you just leave? Will we lose allies or...”

“Banshee, the tactical concern is mine. You can say no without consequences.” Bjorn assures her.

“No, we’re still part of the war effort. We’re ultimately going to meet up with a fleet that Lady Thassalia has sent. This is just a religious curiosity on the way.”

“Right... well I think I need more time to think. The melody... the music was a sort of... comfort that kept me going through the worst time of my life. Or perhaps unlife. The more I talk or think about it the more I remember the endless days of just... fear and pain. Of starving to death and being unable to die... of wishing over and over again for some angel to come down and end my misery. I... I think I’ve dwelled on that enough for today. Maybe at another time.” Banshee says before she goes for the door and leaves the room before anyone can answer.

Bjorn doesn’t move beyond crossing his arms.

“It is a pity that the Saintess’ closeness to the divine is such a source of pain to her.” One of the Gravia notes.

“It is not the source of pain itself sister, it is that she needed succour though a time of great trial that makes it difficult. The melody of the beyond brought her the strength she needed to keep her mind she hears it still.”

“And she’s heard it enough for now. Do you girls need anything else?” Bjorn asks.

“No, we are most satisfied. We have heard the song, we have heard how she hears her song. We shall transcribe it all now. Thank you for your indulgence and time.”

“Just remember to ask before trying to get another sample of this melody and we shouldn’t have any problems.” Bjorn says and 1NT3G3R nods before leading her sisters out. He continues watching until the portal deactivates and leaves the empty frame behind. “A melody to all existence, as understood by living math. Hmm...”

He leaves the room as well.

First Last

First

Before a War

Jacob walks into the room confused as to why he’s been called down into the passenger part of his ship.

“So what’s going on?” He asks Bjorn who nods towards the girls.

“Well?” Bjorn asks and the Metak Sisters look partially away. “Are you two really doing this?”

“Oh come on...” One of the two asks.

“What happened and why did I need to leave my pilot seat for it?” Jacob asks.

“Alright then, meet Elija and Ellie. Two former criminal hijackers that thought it was a good idea to start playing with the systems of an unknown ship while in an Axiom lane.”

“We were nowhere near vital systems of any sort and you know it!” One of the two shouts out.

“Then maybe you should have explained things yourselves then let me paint you in a horrible light? I’ve been trying to get these two idiots to listen to reason or at least confess their little bit of stupid.”

“Okay, no alarms went off and the ship is in one piece, so what did these two get into?” Jacob asks and Bjorn crosses his arms and again looks pointedly at the sisters.

“We accidentally scrambled the pass-codes and authorizations on the chow hall store room.” One says.

“We just wanted to see the inventory, nothing big. Then we noticed it was a closed system, put an inquiry as to why and then it locks down.”

“That’s a security feature.”

“And we couldn’t phase into it to reset it from the other side or teleport in thanks to trytite panels... why’s this ship got security on the level that you’d expect for a bank vault?”

“I expected to potentially take prisoners or hostages. To say nothing of having to keep unfriendlies out of the ship. Only a few places are accessible from the outside and that’s where the portals are. So anything fiddling with ship components gets locked out or locked down.” Jacob explains as he starts walking through the dining hall and towards the closed door in question.

“Why?” One of the Metak sisters asks.

“This was a rescue and escape ship before it was an Undaunted one, I built it up to carry a bunch of people to safety with what was possible a whole army of adepts trying to get them. The only way into this ship would have severely risked their... their product. And they wouldn’t have been willing to... shit.”

“Rescue? Product... oh shit. Wait you’re that Valrin?” One of the sisters asks.

“I wasn’t aware there was a glut of my people in The Undaunted.” Jacob notes as he walks over to the door and then grins. “Now, before we do anything else. Is anyone else here too curious, energetic and reckless to leave things alone too? Show of hands. You all have those so... yeah.”

“I don’t!” A voice in the crowd of soldiers states and Jacob raises an eyebrow before a Deep Crag Nagasha rises up.

“Got it. Okay show of hands and tails then, anyone else...” Jacob begins to ask and everyoen raises the appropriate appendage. “Thought so. Alright, all the actual physical systems for doors and the like are closed circuit and separated to prevent a hacker from just opening all the doors on a whim and as you’ve all seen, fucking with them and trying to activate another part of the system from any door just slams it all shut. Make sense?”

He gets a general acknowledgement from the crowd and then pulls off a wall panel next to it. “Hidden right beside it and covered in a thin trytite coating is a button that safely resets it. The door opens again and just waits for someone to trip the... well calling it a trap is a bit much, but you get the idea.”

“Is this true of all parts of the ship?” Bjorn asks.

“Yes, it is. Now, has anyone else done something potentially stupid on my ship? There were no alerts in the bridge so it can’t be anywhere near bad enough for me to contemplate sending you out an airlock.”

“...” The sheer presence of one of them staring at him causes him to pause.

“Yes miss rabbis?” He asks.

“I’m sorry.” She suddenly says and he sighs.

“Miss Fleetfoot. It wasn’t your fault.” Jacob assures her.

“Oh drama!” One of the girls notes and Jacob sighs.

“Would you like to talk with some privacy? Or as much as can be managed with me now as I am?” Jacob asks her and she stares for a moment before nodding.

“Alright then.” He says and from the feather of his head and wings dry smelling dust begins to pour like rain and it flows across the floor and air towards her. Envelops both him and her and they, and the dust, are gone.

“... Our pilot and captain just vacated the ship Mid Axiom Lane.” Bjorn notes.

“I can multitask!” Jacob’s voice echoes out around them.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Atop The Tallest Spire, The Lush Forest, Soben Ryd)•-•-•

The natural jut of stone reaching into the sky is high up enough to have an entire river of cold clean air pouring over them both as Jacob emerges from nowhere with Naomi. The Rabbis gasps as she realizes what just happens and looks out. In the distance a city can be seen as little more than a series of regular bumps on the horizon with tiny dots flying to and from it. Some going straight down and up as the city is a spaceport.

“Here we are. Closest bit of civilization is far away, and the area around us is so open that we’ll see anything coming. Unfortunately, as a Sorcerer if one of my brothers, or rather my brother, wants to know something from me it’s pretty hard to say no. Now then, let’s get a talking.” He begins and she rushes at him and before he can react is on her knees with all four hands grabbing at the ground.

“I’m sorry!” She half shouts at him.

“Wh-what?” He asks completely off balance.

“They tricked me and had me protecting them! I thought I was a force for good, helping people protect children but was a guard of monsters and maniacs and fighting to protect them! I’m so! So sorry!”

He wants to say something. Say a dozen different things. He shifts from foot to foot, unsure what to say and if anything can be said. He crouches down and then guides her head up with one wing before using the other on her shoulder to force her to at least a position where she can see him.

He opens his mouth to speak. Then words fail him again. He rallies himself.

“What were the lies they told you?”

“I...” Naomi begins and he picks her up more fully and guides her to a moss strewn bit of stone to sit on. “... I was hired as a guard against Adept threats. I... I was drifting, listless. I had pushed and pushed to become a powerful adept but... in trying to get there everything just seemed... pointless. I could crush cars like empty drink cans, I could outrace them on foot. How do you go into traffic control or any kind of office work when you’re primed and ready to tear a building off it’s foundation and walk off with it?”

“And?” He asks.

“They told me that they had a centre for assigning traumatized children to adoptive wealthy families. And they needed a powerful low profile bodyguard to make sure that none of their tormentors.”

“Why would they even tell you that much?”

“Because I could hear what they called ‘full disclosure videos’ in the distance. I... I was so stupid. I as there. Right there. Hearing parts of it even as they hurt those children. As they... they hurt you.”

“Well... I was already out long before you likely got in. Sabotaging them. Sending the most brainless rubes I could get away with without blowing my cover and putting every bent trytite piece I could spare into making my ship.” Jacob says.

“But I was part of it!”

“... You were. But the way you were part of it was like how the original builders of that dome were part of it. Or how the janitors were part of it. Kept ignorant and kept out of the loop. At least they sold you on a more benevolent lie. Did you know the janitors thought it was a theme brothel? Where all the men were willingly aged down into childish forms and would fake being unwilling? Because going along with that is way worse than what they tricked you with.”

“But... just because someone else did worse, doesn’t make what I did any better.” She says.

“No. But you needed more to be blinded, and you always had good intentions. Which is a lot more than can be said for others.”

“But...”

“The people that are actually guilty have been butchered. Brutally. The children are home, those few that have memories of it seem to be exclusively those who have also gained the power of Sorcerers. Power like what I’ve shown now. The power to shift from world to world with trivial ease. The power to control the world around you.” He says.

“I...” Naomi has no idea what to say to that as Jacob paces a little. Clearly thinking.

“... I don’t think letting you speak to the other survivors and apologizing to each of them is what you want. To be honest, I’m not sure what you want. Or how to make things happen.”

“You can speak with them? The others?”

“It’s more distant, but yes. The forests are speaking with each other, and through them, the sorcerers to one another. And the Bright Forest Sorcerers are the other survivors of that place. But they’re not quite sure what to make of you.”

“They don’t forgive me?”

“They don’t know if you need forgiveness. You’re very, very different from the people that hurt them, and while you blame yourself, none of them seem to blame you.”

“I blame me! I’m a Rabbis! I have powerful ears! I should have gone looking!”

“And then have been killed and swept under the rug by the forces against you. It took literal military precision and the nonsense that is sorcery to actually stop things.”

“And part of it was taking me out as well. Maybe he should have killed me that day. I would not have...” Naomi begins to muse and is suddenly struck in the side of the head by Jacob’s wing.

“No. None of that.” Jacob says but is already looking away as she looks at him. His wings are folded behind his back and he slowly stalks to the edge of the spire. He just lets the rivers of cold air rustle his feathers and clothes for a bit before turning back around. “You’re Undaunted now. Much as I am. There are two main concessions a person makes becoming Undaunted, and I agree with them both completely.”

“What?”

“You can do better.” He says.

“Yes. I can.”

“The other one, is that you’re not going to quit.”

“What?”

“You’re not beaten, you’re not done. And if you’re not done, then you can do better.” Jacob says. “It’s not easy, some days it’s all you can do not to backslide entire lightyears. But you’re trying, and sometimes you’re even pulling it off.”

She says nothing.

“So, are you Undaunted? Or are you just signed up?”

“I...”

“Did you just sign up for money, or for more?” Jacob asks and she blinks and then stands up straight.

“I signed up so I could be a better woman.”

“Then don’t apologize for that. There’s nothing to apologize for. The monsters on Lilb Tulelb made you a victim. Perhaps not the same type as I was, but they used you. Will you let them use you again?”

“No. I won’t.”

“Then there’s nothing to apologize for.” He says.

“Uh... who’s flying your ship?”

“It’s fine.”

“And... are we really on Soben Ryd?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know? And... the stories are somehow true? Sorcerers can just...”

“Yeah. We can.” Jacob says. “Now, you feel better?”

“I suppose I do.” She says.

“Good. Let’s go back then.”

“Are you really... always connected here? Part of something bigger? Part of nature?”

“Yeah. We’re all part of nature, Sorcerers are just a lot more literal about it. While it doesn’t help in some ways, it does in others.” He says as he turns back to her and offers his wing. She reaches out and grasps it.

Reality shifts around them and they’re suddenly in the small bridge with soft music playing. “Welcome to the bridge.”

“Just like that? Barely any Axiom? With something else from far away. Like he did. Back when I was... It all comes back to the sorcerers. Doesn’t it?” Naomi asks and he nods.

“Well, sorcerers yes. But they’re tied to the Apuk who are tied back into the rest of the galaxy. It’s... the nature of things. It’s all connected. That’s sorcerery. It’s using that in a way that few others really get. Granted, the Axiom based consciousness you’re part of and boosting makes it confusing but...” He shrugs.

“It’s just... I...”

“Look, for what you may need to be forgiven for, you are forgiven. Is that enough?”

“... It doesn’t feel like enough.” She admits.

“I don’t think I can do more than that.” He says.

“Right. Well... thank you.” She says before moving to leave the bridge.

“Hey.” He says and she stops. “Remember, you’re Undaunted. You’ve chosen to be better. To at least try. So try.”

First Last Next

First

Undying Blues

There is no time for words as the huge sphere of metal swings by she steps closer to the foe so she’s in position to snap to the head of the mace off just under the sphere. Ungora twists her arm around as the sphere rolls over her shoulders and she slams the rolling head of the mace into ther foe. And it simply sticks there. Then sinks in as the false Ibu grows larger and larger. Now she has to look up to see their face.

She charges Axiom through her Orojo and muscles as they size each other up equally. The False Ibu slowly grows a False Orojo of her own and charges it with power. Real Orojo have spikes on the end, and are not a forest of jagged blades vaguely shaped like a proper club.

They strike simultaneously. Metal shatters like glass and Ungora lets out a roar. Her proper Orojo wins the day and sheers through the false Ibu with ease. Then the metal shifts and moves like a swarm of living things. Grasping around her and pressing as hard as it can to try and pierce her flesh in vain. She charges Axiom through her being to try and resist the wriggling metal. She brushes them away, but the brittle metal breaks under her fingers and moves likes flies through the air to try and infest her.

She pushes Axiom out of her being to try and scramble the effect and for a moment it seems to work. Then the swarm of metal shards tries all the harder to bury itself into her being.

She brings her orojo back around and there is nothing but more shattering metal. So she runs. If it is not here than it cannot be fought here.

The world is breaking apart and shifting, the corpses of the buildings are breaking open and more and more metal pours out.

“This place is mine. What is here moves at my command alone.” The Metal Erumenta commands.

“Oh please.” She dismisses as she sends out a pulse of Axiom to disrupt the shards on her person.

She closes her eyes and focuses entirely on where the opponent must be. All the shards of metal are imbued with a specific Axiom resonance. The area is utterly flooded with it, and there are no gaps, but she can still tell distance with all of them and weaves around lashing streams and picks her way through fields and even teleports past entire walls of moving razor shards.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Luxurious Apartments, Inner Chambers, Hidden Complex, La’ahbaron Space)•-•-•

“A moment, I think I’ve seen this show. Dame Danger and the Elemental Witches?” Danburi asks.

“Some people base themselves on fiction.”

“Yes but... really? She really faced an Elemental Witch impersonator, did the show even leave La’ahbaron space?”

Yalri says nothing.

“What really happened?”

“It’s not as exciting.” She says and he sighs.

“I prefer truth over lies.”

“What difference does it make. The story you have to bring home is already so fantastical that no one will believe you.”

“I can be convincing, but if Lady Ungora’s actual tale is so boring that you have to embelish it I’m sure she’ll find that a fascinating thing to learn.”

“Do you really think she’ll take your word over mine?”

“Do you think she doesn’t know us both well enough to tell when we are or are not deceiving her?” Danburi asks. “Whether she wants to be called Wurana or Ungora, I’ve stretched my memory back. She’s always desired to know truth beyond a comforting lie.”

“Are you sure about that?” Yalri asks and he raises an eyebrow.

“Just tell me what the actual story is.”

“... Shortly after gaining control of the sword she began searching in earnest for people who had not gone to the temples but had maintained more control of themselves than average...”

“I presume because she wanted to know how the did that and to make use of it herself?” Danburi asks.

“Yes, now... The Metal Erumenta... her name was Ashina Cleyn.” Yalri sates and Danburi gives no indication he recognizes either name.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Years ago, Village Ruins, Unknown World, Unknown Space)•-•-•

The search had gone... strange. The entire area was shifting, different. An odd glint to the plants and a suspicious lack of wildlife.

It’s not until she steps into a patch of grass and her sandals are torn through by the literal blades beneath her that it all clicks. It had been hidden in the darkness of the moonless night, but the entire forest was made of metal. She reaches out with her orojo and gently knocks a few trees in passing. The solid clunks tell her that they’re far from hollow and if all the trees are like this then someone took enough metal to craft a space station from and used it to make an artistic mockery of a forest.

In short order her sandals are completely destroyed and she just leaves behind the tattered remains as she weaves away from the branches a little more than before. Vaguely wondering just why anyone would make any kind of forest like this.

The previous forms of madness she had seen was insane bloodlust and obsessive creation. But these trees are not uniform enough to be the work of someone obsessed with doing the same thing over and over again. And when she insects the ‘grass’ it’s more... blades and wire. It’s so strange. She pulls it up and finds that it leads down to a solid hull. One she hadn’t even sensed due to the way that Axiom was moving through the false plants. They truly did feel alive in the Axiom.

She stomps on the hull a few times and sends Axiom down through to get a feel beyond. It’s lying on mountain rock. Just a huge chunk of metal, likely off a larger spacecraft or station, used as raw material to make a large twisted forest of metal.

“It’s rude to not introduce yourself!” A strange voice calls out. It echoes from every direction and leads her now way to find out where it came from.

“Ruder still to demand a name without supplying your own.”

“Hmm... no, we do this the Erumenta way. Guest first.” The stranger calls out.

“I am Wurana La’ahbaron, who are you?”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Luxurious Apartments, Inner Chambers, Hidden Complex, La’ahbaron Space)•-•-•

“She was still using her actual name then?”

“She had yet to rename herself.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Years ago, Village Ruins, Unknown World, Unknown Space)•-•-•

“I am Ashina Cleyn, now... what are you doing in my home?”

“I am seeking sane immortals not of the temple and...” Wurana had said and was interrupted by laughter. “Do you think this is a joke!? I have no desire to go insane!”

“I know what that sword you carry is! And while some small part of me yearns for an ending, I am no coward. Life is to be clung to, life is to savoured and defended. Still, you are too enduring to be phased or slowed by my forest of blades, so we must face each other directly.”

“I just want answers.”

“I’m sure you do, the answer to your question is one. Provided you remember to follow up as needed.”

“Follow up?”

“Yes, one blow to drive out the source, and a follow up to cement the kill if needed.” Ashina claims. “Now that we know this. What will you do?”

Her hand goes to the handle of the claimed blade. “So this thing can really do it... and some part of you wants me to.”

“Yes, but I also don’t want you to. And I don’t know whether it’s me or the thing inside that’s desiring things. The uncertainty keeps me focused, keeps me sane.” Ashina says and there is a pause. The trees of metal begin to sway, creak and groan as if caught in a wind. “So, lets see which one is more true.”

There are steps from the side and Wurana turns to face... An Iron Ibu, made of flowing, shifting shards of metal. Like a million tiny things had come together to make a mockery of her. No, not her. An Ibu’Dwoov.

“So who am I looking at?”

“Grandmother.” The Iron Ibu answers and slams a fist that solidifies right as it reaches her into her face. But Axiom renders Ibu stronger than mere iron. Wurana’s head is barely turned.

The orojo whistles through the air, reinforced with Axiom and carrying enough force to send starships skidding. The iron tree is shattered like glass and the swarm forming the false Ibu is scattered.

Then it clangs into the solid hand of a woman standing behind a second tree. She ducks under the embedded weapon as she reveals herself. Wurana pulls back her weapon and the metal tree cracks, leans and collapses. Doubling over and embedding itself into the ‘grass’.

The Erumenta slowly starts walking out of the forest and Wurana matches the gait with ease, they each glare at the other as they match each others pace and step into the starlight. The clearing that Ashina had led her to is more metal and narrows before stretching out as a bridge. They walk along it, neither making the first move. Wurana knows that Ashina will only divulge her secrets when she’s played her game to it’s fullness. But what is the game?

Ashina suddenly stops, then looks at the sword sheathed at Wurana’s side. There is hunger there, hatred, longing, deep disgust and utter awe chasing each other over her face and more in her aura. “Can you even use that weapon?”

“What do you mean?”

“Around my neck is the key to the remains of the station far below us. It’s already waterproof, and everything inside will give a more complete history of what’s happened here. But I guard it with my life.” Ashina says as metal flows over her and forms a sword of the same size and shape of the immortal slaying sword.

“If you want to die...” Wurna says as she slowly draws out the sword and hides the sensation of sheer weakness flowing over her. Ashina outright staggers for a moment before catching herself. “Then you need merely say so.”

“No. Suicide is shameful. Cowardly. Wrong. But death in battle? Against a superior foe? Proper. Good.” Ashina says leveling her sword at Wurana, she runs Axiom down the blade. “Strength in the weapons alone. This sword will cut you, and if I get control of your sword, you die.”

“I don’t need strength in the weapon alone.” Wurana states as she presents her orojo then sets it onto the metal of the bridge. Then she raises it up a mere hand’s breadth and slams it down hard enough to embed it. She lets go of the weapon and then draws out the sheath of the sword before concealing the weapon again.

“What are you doing?” Ashina demands.

“You’re not the only one who can manipulate metal.” Wurana says before embeding the sheathed sword into the bridge and then holding out her hand. Metal flakes and then the very stuff of the bridge itself rises up to fill her hand and forms a blade of her own to match Ashina. “And I always do my best learning under duress.”

“Didn’t you hear me!? If I win I will kill you!”

“I came to this world to die. I’m not afraid of it, but you’re right. Suicide is shameful. Hence why I came to find some super sickness. See if I couldn’t cure it. Joke’s on me.”

“Oh?”

“I either get answers, or I see my daughters again. Now fight Erumenta. Win the blade from me, because I will fight for my life, no matter how little I want it. It is mine to defend.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Luxurious Apartments, Inner Chambers, Hidden Complex, La’ahbaron Space)•-•-•

“How much of this dialogue is a dramatization?” Danburi interrupts with a truly baffled tone.

“You know? I actually don’t know, I’m telling you the story that Lady Ungora told me.”

“Okay, clearly she won. Because she’s still around. Unless we have an Erumenta in the most thorough and well made skin suit imaginable and wow my mind is going to dark places today.”

“I wonder why.” Yalri asks in a calm tone.

“So after she won?”

“You don’t want a blow by blow of the fight?”

“Well, I’m currently trying to wind you up so you start making mistakes, and you clearly want to tell me, so I’ll say no and get the information from someone else later. What happened afterwards?”

“... So anyways the fight opened with a wide-”

“Really!?”

“Yes, really.” Yalri says with a big grin. “Now the fight opened with a wide swing from the Erumenta to get your aunt to back off a step. Tellingly it sliced clean through the embedded orojo like it was made of soft wood, but was stopped by the immortal slaying sword and the weapon was then forced to stay down by your aunt before the Erumenta grabbed the hilt. Both women pinned in place by their desire to control the only truly deadly weapon in that battle they both swung for the other, and only with their swords slamming into each other were they able to stop the other from simply slicing off their arm and claiming the prize.”

First Last Next

First

(Energy levels crashed and have been fighting to write. Sorry.)

Undying Blues

“Oh? And the fact we are unknown, invisible and immortal means what to that calculation?”

“Nothing. Considering that the galaxy is logically sending enough ships that they can visually scan from atop the hulls of the vessels to scour every single inch of La’ahbaron Space and the surrounding systems, with ease. Likely there are going to be so many people arrayed against us that they might not have enough room to physically fit all the vessels of the individuals with a vested interest in seeing you dead.

“A very interesting point, but I have a question.”

“Which is?”

“How will they know it’s us? Hmm?” Yalri asks and he scoffs.

“With the amount of attention on you do you think something as simple as a false flag operation and sacrificial pawns will be enough to get away with what’s happened?” He demands.

“Oh you think that’s ALL we’re doing, or that we haven’t already done what we’ve wanted to.”

“Pardon?”

“We’ve already accomplished... oh... I’d say... sixty, sixty five percent of our objectives without issue. And to be honest at this point, even if we don’t survive a lot of the upper command still gets what they want. So by all means, bring the army. Lead an entire quartet of literal war goddesses in. Most of us have already won, or locked in our victory.” She says.

“What have you done?”

“Now that would be telling. I’ll just let you worry about it. But it’s also not what I’m here about. Now, you think you’ve been clever with your open subversion joke and bits of humour about being an obvious enemy. I can do that to.”

“Okay, and how is that supposed to impress me? I tell you what I’m doing and realizing that anyone can do it isn’t exactly a powerful revelation.” He remarks and her eyes narrow. He raises an eyebrow. “Now then madam, is it my services you will be needing or something else?”

“Really? You’re not going to pry?”

“You’re actively about to keep information from me or try to sabotage it.” He says and she pauses. Reconsiders and then sighs.

“I don’t understand you male.” She says and he raises an eyebrow. “You are both the living embodiment of everything wrong with La’ahbaron, and yet not.”

“Oh?”

“The moment something bad happened to you, and only because it was you that it happened to, my entire family was nearly destroyed. Reduced to scraps. Because their little prince was hurt.” She says in a dismissive tone.

“And how are the actions of others, others who have authority over me no less, my fault?” He asks. “Furthermore I am quite curious as to what point I appear to have chosen what family I was born into or how I would look in this life.”

“I assumed that you were as every other male I have had the unfortunate luck of meeting. And to be frank, I had no evidence you would be anything otherwise.”

“Oh? And in what way have I given that idea?”

“You’re a prince of La’ahbaron, when have you known hunger? Or tasted desperation?”

“In my childhood? Fairly often.”

“What?”

“I was given a few choices as to what my position in the family could be, I chose courtesan, and they ensured my training was so complete and so rigorous that I was penalized for the smallest mistakes in many ways. Delayed meals were part of it, the fact that I would only be allowed to rest after completing my studies to the satisfaction of my teachers was another. I found myself locked in the library whenever I couldn’t answer any random piece of trivia about a bevy of subjects, and often about subjects I had never even imagined about, until such a point that I could answer the question to the satisfaction of my teacher.”

“Really? And how long did your teaching last?”

“Ten years.”

“And you couldn’t do anything about it?”

“Do anything? It was my own idea. I always had a way out. But I, the pampered princeling, wanted to be more than a simple son of the royal house.”

“... Simple son of a royal house?”

“Used as a bargaining chip in marriage. I rather like living in the central palace, it’s my home. But if I am not binding The Empire together through marriage then I must be serving it in another way. Therefore I went through courtesan training, extremely harsh courtesan training. You see, they didn’t want me to be a courtesan, and only allowed me to go through the training as a form of amusement before I would naturally ‘give up’ and then comply with their wishes. Instead by the time i was finished with the training my teacher had brought in four others to test me simultaneously, and they found that I could match them all simultaneously.” Danburi states. “And do you wish to hear the great irony of all that?”

“What?”

“I do not think I am the best of the courtesans, not even in La’ahbaron.”

“And why is that relevant?’

“Because, it makes me wonder why Lady Ungora went for me specifically? Does she truly value hurting grandmother above healing her own daughters?”

“What are you getting at?” Yalri demands.

“Just wondering where Lady Ungora’s priorities are. Since I’ve been dragged into this, I am quite concerned of course. But no doubt you’re quite certain as to where you stand and-”

“You can just stop. I know manipulation when I hear it.” She says.

“Oh thank goodness, I was afraid I’d have to somehow be less subtle with you.” Danburi says with a hand to his heart in sheer relief.

“And how could you have been any less subtle?” She demands and he taps his chin in thought.

“Well... I suppose I could have grabbed you by the shoulders, shaken you hard and demanded you to wake up and realize that you’re going to just be another sacrifice for whatever my aunt is planning.” Danburi notes.

“And you think I’m going to be sacrificed because?”

“Because she’s going to sacrifice the Vish, and the Vish are loyal to the point that they’re maybe a couple months away from building shrines to her as a living goddess.” Danburi says. “And an enormous army of stealth masters that are unfailingly loyal is not a small sacrifice. Arguably one considerably larger than a single spymistress.”

“Hmm. Well when you go for unsubtle you certainly don’t do it by half.”

“You’re a spy, you’re drowning in subtlety, if I could get away with it I would paint my intention on an orojo and beat you over the head with it until it sinks in. Sadly I don’t think you’re the type that’s tractable to the blunt force trauma style of debate.” He says with a chuckle. “Still... you’re here... and you’re here to spread misinformation aren’t you?”

“... Why are you doing so much to convince me you’re dangerous?”

“A paranoia gambit. You very clearly do not want me to influence you, so you won’t let me positively influence you. But triggering every single suspicion you have is just as useful because you’re going to read so much into everything I do now that you’re going to distract yourself, double think, triple think and generally either waste your time, come to incorrect conclusions or discredit yourself.”

“... It’s a damn pity we’re on opposite sides.” She notes.

“True enough, a few words from me and I’m sure that grandmother would..."

“Absolutely not.”

“Really? The story of finding morality, loyalty and greater cause is just the sort of thing to stirr a heart and not only wipe clean a family’s shame, but reverse it entirely.” Danburi offers.

“You’re attempts are getting cruder and cruder.”

“Of course they are. You won’t relax, so I’m going to wind you up instead. The only thing I won’t do is let things stay the way they are without having some influence on things. It’s how I get and keep control.”

She glares at him. “So that’s a no to doing things the better way?”

“Better?”

“Yes better. You’re an Intelligence Operative, a Spymistress. Don’t you want your story to involve double, triple, quadruple crosses? Where no one but you knows your actual loyalty?”

“No, that sounds exhausting!”

“You are a boring woman.” Danburi chides her with a shake of his head. He starts walking away with a stretch of his arms. “Well, what do you want? You’re not here for an Indulgence, and I don’t have actionable knowledge. And we both know that I know you’re going to try and plant information with me or something. So where does this leave us?”

Oh, the details are going to be shifted, but the general strokes I have to tell you are correct. If you care to listen.”

“Listen about what?” He asks.

“Your aunt on the world where she uncovered immortality.”

“Ah yes, the world where she definitely knows where it actually is but is refusing to share and won’t give a time frame for when she was there beyond sometime in the last few hundred years. Which really doesn’t narrow it down.”

“Which is rather the point.”

“True.” Danburi says before chuckling. “Alright, so to be clear Aunt Wurana, now Lady Ungora, but still Wurana then found an isolated world under quarantine. She touched down, found impossible large twisted animals that came out at night as they were afraid of the light and that the insane, hyper-violent locals were somehow returning to full life and health no matter how much harm was done to them. But they were all so insane that they weren’t using Axiom. She took one captive and held them in darkness to interrogate them. Which calmed them down enough for them to explain that the world had gone to hell and that only burning a body to ashes prevented resurrection. She kept looking around, was attacked by a higher ranked and more aware immortal and got away, then was made immortal by another, had it proved and then she went on to search for the person that granted their immortality. That’s what she explained to me. The Vish tell me that she went searching for and found a sword that ends even immortals. The one we saw earlier. Is that a proper summation?”

“You skipped a lot of details.”

“I’m not sure the details are true. So, what’s the next part of the story?”

“Well...”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Years ago, Village Ruins, Unknown World, Unknown Space)•-•-•

She begins scanning the area, having heard of a woman with Ibu blood. Apparently they had changed in ways few had suspected, but not in any way that had occurred to her. The strange blade she had retrieved weighed at her hip uncomfortably. Physically it was so light that her belt might way a similar amount. But it had another weight to it. An enormous sense of doom just clinging to it, even through the sheath.

The village is shattered and strewn with ‘corpses’. But they were undying all. Yet... they refused to move. Something had hurt these women, hurt them so deeply and so thoroughly that even past the insane violence burning through them they were laying perfectly still, as if it would cause whatever had caused this to turn away.

Several of them are literally nailed down with massive shards of half rusted metal. She removes the spikes from a few, but they simply lay still. She can see them watchign her and the fear in the area is cloying. At least half of the spikes holding people down are already rusted through and just balanced on the otherwise already unblemished skin.

There is no wet blood in the area, this incident happened a time ago and was so terrible that the insane were too terrified to move.

Then a spike of metal crashes against the side of her head and shatters into razor sharp flecks and motes of rust. She turns to face the proper direction as an entire river of metal spikes slams into her. Her clothing is already reinforced and she charges through the metal, the closest thing to harm it brings to her is when pieces tangle in her clothing and hair and start tinkling and breaking against each other.

She brings down her orojo into the source and there is a loud clang. The river of metal ends and she can see the source now. An Erumenta with so much metal growing not just from her head, but from every part of her body. She is distended and overlarge and with a large spike of a spear sticking up from over her right eye she almost looks like a metal Ibu.

“Well, aren’t you interesting?” She asks before the stranger takes a swipe at her with an axe like hand and then freezes when the weapon shatters against her neck. “What are you going to do now?”

A massive ball mace slams into her stomach hard enough to send her skidding back. The broken mace visibly heals in front of her even as the massive mace grows even more so.

“SUFFER!” The Metal Erumenta screams.

First Last