Rosemary was drifting in and out of consciousness. Ora winced, his bones working against him, rebelling against his body, holding him to the wall and keeping him there like heavy plates upon his form. Brother Bone was smiling, though it was desperate. He had not thought about betraying them like this, Ora realized, not until his sibling was free, not until he knew that Meleko wasn't with them. He could complete his mission here, finish it after months of surviving on the fringes of the multiverse, after months of eating rats and birds on a desolate island. There was a ragged triumph in his voice as he spoke.
“Don't worry,” he said, “We won't kill you.”
“W-We need the Shard,” Ora said, “P-Please, have mercy.”
“Oh, but I give mercy,” Bone said, “I give it.”
His hand twitched. Ora felt small prickles run up and down his spine.
“One twist of my hand, and I can break every bone in your body,” Bone said, “You'd almost deserve it, you bootlicker. But for the sake of our little alliance, I'll let you live.”
Brother Brain's power activated, and the large man gestured at the telescope. The entire structure twisted, as though wrenched by two massive hands, and its outer shell peeled back, revealing inner workings that broke to pieces and floated away. The magnifying lenses cracked, and one shattered. The beautiful, polished bronze rings bent into unnatural shapes. Intricate pieces of machinery, small gears that were used to help adjust the lenses, were tossed away as though they were mere trash.
And the Shard floated gently in the center of it all. Like a planetoid surrounded by a thousand artificial moons. It was small, only the size of Ora's finger, rainbow-hued, it bobbed quietly up and down in a bubble-shaped stasis field. A simple thing.
Yet the entire room took on its aura. Dimmed and became mosaic, a kaleidoscope reflecting on the walls, the floor, the ceiling, painted everything in soft reds and blues and greens and pinks and yellows, every color of the rainbow and beyond, even colors they did not recognize. Brain's breath skipped. Bone's grin widened.
“Good,” he said, “Take it, brother. Be careful.”
“Of course,” Brain said. He gestured to the Shard, shook it from its stupor. It floated over and stopped above the metahuman's hand.
At this, Brother Bone swallowed. There was a nervous edge in his voice.
“In the bag, brother,” he said, “Be careful.”
“I am being careful,” Brother Brain said.
He had been carrying a bag within his coat, a simple brown burlap sack, that floated free and went up to the Shard. Swallowed it up like a gulper eel. The Shard's myriad glow dimmed, but did not disappear.
“Good,” Bone said, “Good. Good god.”
He wilted, almost crumpled. Brain steadied him with a hand on the shoulder.
“You have no idea,” Bone said, “You have no idea, how good it is to...”
He glanced over at Ora and Rosemary. And nodded.
“Right,” he said, “Here's how it goes down. We're leaving. You two are on your own.”
“Y-You're a bastard,” Ora said.
“Well, yes,” Brain said, “We are.”
“Not what he meant, brother.”
The two metahumans walked over to the door, Bone taking point. After a moment of glancing through the frame, he jumped through. Brain looked at each of them in turn, bag still in hand, and he lumbered through the frame.
There was a pause.
And then, the horrid thrumming of plasma fire. Bone let out a whine of pain. Brain roared. Shouts intermixed outside, a few angry, a few guttural and pained.
And Bone's hold over Ora and Rosemary released. The two of them fell to the ground. The Nelnuthan winced in pain as he rose to his feet, his entire body aching phantoms as he stumbled over to Rosemary's side. She was facedown, so he turned her over.
“Rosemary,” he said, “Rosemary, are you...?”
She groaned. Opened her eyes.
“This...” she murmured, “S-Sucks.”
“I’m inclined to a-agree,” Ora said, and he turned nervously at the door. Through the open frame, he could make out the rest of the tower, still lopsided from here. Bone and Brain were taking cover behind one of the islands, Brain snarling and throwing debris at a squad of elves – evidently they had been discovered. He could also hear the dundun of Meleko. His plasma rifle.
So he had been waiting for the double-cross. Smart.
“Rosemary,” Ora said, “C-Can you walk?”
The elf – no, the faerie – rose, clutching the arm that Adaya had run through with the cold iron needles. She gritted her teeth, almost fell, caught herself on the wall, stood up tall. And it looked like it took everything in her power to remain that way. Her eyes were burning as she looked at Ora.
“Support me,” she said.
Ora complied. His wrist, still twisted and broken, throbbed as he took her injured arm, throwing it over his shoulder. She winced, seemed to swim and ripple, before she regained control of herself. She held her sceptre in her good hand, and together the two of them went towards the door.
***
Meleko was in a good position, having climbed up the great statue of Iresine, memories flooding his mind of the last time he was here, of Heyma standing up here like a hawk prepared to dive upon its prey. He held his rifle in hand, his mouth a thin line, as he fired upon the elves below.
They had been discovered. There must have been an alarm that went off in the event of Adaya's death, some magical charm or other. He had never been good with magic. The head of the Verdant Reclamation lay still on the floor, in a pool of his own blood. Good.
But now elves swarmed the tower, weapons drawn. Even now, they were pouring through the door.
As Meleko had suspected, the Brothers Corpo had double crossed them. When they had stepped out of the room, alone, Meleko had realized that the worst had happened. He had two regrets.
The first, was that Rosemary and Ora were likely dead, or gravely injured. Meleko recalled how Ichabod and Dama Runebreaker had been twisted by Brother Bone, their bodies crumpling in on themselves like tin cans. He would need a magical healer. If he could get out, at all.
The second regret was that he had not landed a killing shot on Bone. He knew this in the way that Brain had dragged his sibling into cover, by the way that any elves who got close to the island they were taking cover behind twisted up in a series of sickly snaps.
He was tempted to continue firing at them from his position, having taken up post on Iresine's right shoulder. But a few of the elves were pointing at his position. One of them chanted words that rang through the hall, and she changed form into that of a massive spider, easily the size of a car. She leaped up, caught onto his torso, scrabbled up.
Meleko swiveled, took aim. Fired.
His aim was true. A plasma bolt seared through the elf-spider's head, burning a hole the size of a fist between eight eyes. She fell, lifeless, shifting back to her Elven form as she splattered on the ground-
Movement to his left. The spider had been a distraction. Now an elf was on him, blade in hand, a curved thing that he swung at Meleko, who deflected the strike with the length of his rifle. He pulled in close, leg rising and cracking against the side of the elf's knee. The elf stumbled, lost his stance. Meleko swung the butt of his rifle into his head, and his unconscious form slid off the statue.
Below, a few of the elves were pointing at the island Bone and Brain were hiding out in.
“Metahuman!” one of them snarled, “Two!”
They took note of the area of influence, the edge of the field of the Brothers' powers, at the crumpled forms of their comrades. A few of them let loose a few arrows, which stopped in midair, Brain's telekinetic power overtaking their natural velocities. A few more unleashed spells, bolts of lightning and balls of fire, and Brain raised a hand, one of the nearby islands lifting at his command. The metahuman strained, and threw the stone orb at the assailants. Elves were crushed as it rolled like a great marble across the hall, crashing against the wall.
Meleko was having trouble of his own. More elves were coming up on him now. A few were firing arrows from below, too. They whizzed over the Jugdran's head as he ducked down, shouldering his rifle and pulling out his pistol. He fired a few shots to keep the chasers at bay, stumbling further up Iresine's form, grabbing onto an ear, hoisting himself onto the stone statue's curly hair.
He could see, far below, Rosemary and Ora pushing themselves out of the room. Good. They were alive.
The Brothers Corpo were exposed. She pointed her sceptre at them.
And let out a ragged scream.
The beam of light that erupted from the rose's tip burned like the sun. It was more light than he had ever seen her produce, a full-on deluge that ripped towards the Brothers. Bone grimaced, hitting the ground. Brain's arm twisted, and the pockmarked island cover lifted, turned, spun just in time to act as a shield-
No, the light drilled right through, the island doing nothing more than a simple roadblock, its debris tanking the worst of the flare as it swept the metahumans aside. It carved through the elves, too, burning them away, scattering the attacking force.
And the sceptre's light dimmed. Out of juice. But it was enough to get the Brothers away from the doorway, taking cover further down in the hall.
***
And Rosemary looked down at her sceptre.
And noted another small, hairline crack.
***
One of the elves was a sorcerer of some magnitude. She took note of the beams of light, at the influence that Brain had over the environment. Her hands shook as she raised them upwards, chanting quietly. Meleko took note, took aim-
And an elf took the opportunity to leap up onto the head and slash at him. The blade cut deep into the Jugdran's leg, and he grunted, falling onto his back, twisting around, firing off two rounds into the elf's chest. He fired a few more shots at the next elf just as they cleared Iresine's head. They ducked down, the bolts sailing over them. A standoff. But it was enough time for Meleko to glance down.
And see the sorcerer summon something. The room's temperature went down. Meleko could suddenly see his breath, foggy and mist-like. A gargantuan ice elemental realized into the tower, lumbering and built like a fortress, with pillar-like legs and a second pair of arms supporting its great bulk. Its torso was misshapen. It possessed no head. But its very presence made the world winter. Ice began collecting on the walls. Snow began to fall from the ceiling.
“Brother!” Bone called out, “Kill it! Kill it!”
Brain nodded. The elves that were attacking them were merely staring up in awe at the sight of the elemental, so the metahuman took the opportunity to shake them from their stupor. One of the larger islands lifted – one that depicted the Silver Tower itself – and, straining, Brain threw it at the elemental.
Stone broke against ice. Fell to the ground, frosted over.
“...Oh,” Brain said.
The elemental lifted a finger-less hand, more of a club than anything. It brushed up against the ceiling.
And then brought it down. The two Brothers scattered, leaping to opposite sides. Spikes of frost erupted from the impact site, dry ice stalagmites that nearly speared Brain through as he telekinetically threw himself into the air to avoid the worst of it. Frost covered his form as he landed. A few elves were on him, swinging weapons. Only one struck true, an errant spear thrust that scraped across his arm. The rest he threw away, along with their owners.
Bone was not as lucky. Already injured, already frail, the thin metahuman gasped as one of the faster elves bore down on him, swinging her blade. It buried itself deep in his side as he pointed at her, her head exploding as her skull betrayed her. But the damage was done. The others kept their distance as he rose to his feet, twisting away some of the elf's skeleton and covering up his wound in a poor attempt at a bandage.
“B-Brother!” Bone said, “The elemental!”
The ice elemental was rearing up again, slow as a continent, powerful as a blizzard. Brain's mind raced. It would be over. Bone was injured. Brain was, too, but not so much that he was immobilized. He knew that his brother was operating and moving only through his metahuman power alone. A plasma bolt had seared through his leg. A rent had opened near his ribs.
The elemental was boring down.
“No choice, then,” Brain said.
For a moment, he hesitated.
Then, he reached down into the burlap bag. His trembling hands closed over the Shard of Imagination. He lifted it up. Felt power suffuse through him. His blood was mosaic. His eyes glowed myriad.
Mosaic and myriad.
All was possible in the world. All was conceivable. Reality was a never ending flow of ideas that coalesced into storms, which birthed planes, which birthed land, which birthed people in a million forms, and a trillion thoughts whirled in their heads, and thoughts begat ideas, which coalesced into storms which birthed planes which birthed land which birthed people in a million forms.
Ideas into storms.
Storms into planes.
Planes into land into people into ideas into storms into planes into land into people into-
And-
***
Ora stumbled back. Rosemary held him close, still pointing her depleted sceptre at the hulking form of the elemental. But both of them watched as Brother Brain held the Shard of Imagination in hand, a hand which cracked like dried clay as he brought it aloft. It shone like a multicolored star, drinking in his metahumanity, and then-
His power increased. Ora and Rosemary felt themselves begin floating, gently, into the air. As did all of the elves. Meleko, too, along with his assailants. The ice elemental. Bone. The stone islands took to the air once more. Everything that was not bolted down was relieved of gravity.
…No.
Everything that was not bolted down was being lifted. By Brother Brain. The metahuman floated, too, and everything began to circle around him. As though he were a planet. His eyes glowed, burned like rainbow suns.
The elemental floated into his view. Like an automaton, his head snapped to consider it. He found its owner, the sorcerer. She was muttering to herself, a spell on her lips.
And her mouth shut. And would not open.
And then she began to break. As though a great hand was holding her. Brain's hand, the one that was not holding the Shard, tightened into a fist, his fingernails digging deep, iridescent blood dripping from his palm.
The sorcerer collapsed in on herself. Ora averted her eyes, tried not to think about the disgusting squelch he heard as the elf was crushed into gooey bits.
But the elemental did not dispel.
A few of the other magic-users began to throw spells at Brain. But they froze in midair, suspended by his telekinetic powers. Frozen bolts of lightning. Free-floating gouts of flame. They coalesced together, merged into a ball, were squeezed like oranges until they leaked away their elemental aspects, leaving behind pure magic.
Magic that Brain threw at the elemental. Seared a hole through its torso, seared a hole through the wall of the tower, which exploded as the magic, acid-like and nightmarish, splattered out into the outside world. Water deluged in.
And Brain released his hold on the world. Ora and Rosemary fell into the water. As did Meleko, who twisted, cutting into the freshwater sea that now leaked into the tower. Elves were scrambling beneath the surface.
Some did not know how to swim.
“Brain!” Bone cried out, “Brother!”
He had pulled free several skeletons from their owners, designed a bloody raft to stay afloat.
“Brother!” he yelled, again.
But Brain did not respond. Could not respond. His mind was in another world, as the islands continued floating around him, as elves continued to die.
Meleko, despite his injured leg, swam quickly. He made it over to Ora and Rosemary's side, looping his arms around them to keep their heads above water. Rosemary was nearly unconscious, shaking, horribly cold to the touch. Ora was wincing, but after a moment he could keep his head above on his own. Meleko let him go.
“W-Where to?” Ora said.
“Follow me!” Meleko said, “Out of here!”
He began to swim towards the hole that Brain had made, one arm wrapped around Rosemary, one helping him paddle. It was slow going. Elves were still struggling around them, some of them grabbing onto their comrades to keep afloat, inadvertently pulling them down. The sea itself was seizing and twisting.
But, somehow, they made it out of the tower, moved towards the docks, where galleons were moored, elves watching the side of the tower. More of it was breaking apart, shattered loose from Brain's power. Through it all, somehow, they could hear Bone's calls to his brother.
“Pierre!” he was screaming, “Pierre! That's enough!”
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A few of the galleons lifted into the sky, came crashing down. One capsized. Meleko swam towards one of the canoes. Watched as the one beside it flew up into the air.
A plan was forming in his head. He threw Rosemary onto the boat, jumped on himself. He turned, grabbing Ora-
Whose legs levitated up as though he were in zero-g. Meleko grabbed hold of his arms, and pulled him forward. They were right on the edge of Brain's vastly increased influence, and the Nelnuthan crashed down into the Jugdran's arms.
But already the metahuman was moving out of the tower.
Meleko grabbed an oar, pushed off the pier, and began to row.
“Help me!” he roared.
Ora grabbed the other oar, wincing at his broken wrist. He could only awkwardly fiddle at the water. Meleko did most of the work.
Or, rather, the sea did. It was convulsing, undulating as Brain moved high above. His every heartbeat reverbed into the water, cast out circular waves. Good. It was moving them away from the tower.
Towards the Traveling Point.
Ships lifted high into the air. Elves were cast upwards, and were crushed into piles of blood and powdery bone. Trees tore free from their roots. Buildings were sent skyward. They were just barely on the edge of his influence, Meleko reasoned. Just barely pushed forward, just enough to not be torn apart.
Bone followed his brother. Still crying out. By now Brain's entire body was glowing, deep cracks running along his body as though he were a fractured porcelain doll.
The Shard always had a price that had to be paid. Sometimes it was bad luck after using its power. Sometimes it was the sacrifice of those whom one loved.
Sometimes it was more straightforward, like now, and it claimed the life of its wielder.
Brother Brain, Pierre, was not long for the world. And perhaps he realized that, as Bone was lifted into the air, boat and all, and sent careening through the air. He disappeared into the Traveling Point, which rippled as it took him in.
There was Meleko's target. He guided the canoe as best he could towards the shiver in the sky. The world lifted and fell around him. The seas convulsed.
They were right below it now. Meleko stopped the canoe.
And Brain's power lifted it, unbidden, into the air.
One moment Chliofrond was screaming around them, the next they were flying through the rainbow world between worlds.
Then they were falling towards the sea of Redenia.
Ora screamed. Meleko grimaced.
And then they were caught by the wind, which formed like a hand around the boat, holding it aloft. Far below, Meleko saw the form of Zad, the Guttersnipe's Engine Mage. A wind spell, probably unstoppered from one of his beakers. Like a gentle caress, it began to carry them down from the Traveling Point.
Orvisan was stepping out onto the beach now, glancing up. As did a few crewmembers.
In the distance, also traveling down, was Bone. He was sobbing horribly, and he lost his grip on his powers at the last moment, crashing into the beach's shallows, the waves carrying him to shore.
Perhaps that was payment enough for his betrayal. Meleko ignored him. Ora did, too, following the Jugdran's lead.
Their canoe landed. Zad ran over to it.
“How injured?” he asked.
“Rosemary,” Meleko said, “She got hit by...”
He looked askance at Ora. The Nelnuthan grimaced, debating on what to say. Rosemary had looked shocked when Adaya had revealed her to be a faerie. And she had called herself an elf this whole time...
“I need to know, lad,” Zad said, “So will the medical mages.”
“Cold iron,” Ora said.
The Engine Mage put two and two together. He nodded. A few of the crew ran out to the beach with a stretcher, which they loaded Rosemary onto. As Ora stepped out, Zad looked down at his wrist.
“You, too,” he said, “Same with you, Jugdran. All of you, into the infirmary.”
“What about Bone?” Ora asked.
He glanced over at the metahuman. He had not moved from his own makeshift boat. His ragged sobs, haunting and hollow, echoed up and down the beach.
“Leave him,” Meleko grunted, “His brother made his bed.”
One of the crew helped Ora out of the Traveling Point. He looked at Orvisan.
“Get ready,” he said, “I need to make a few calls.”
***
His wrist was a quick fix. A magic spell. Whispered words, so quiet that his ears flickered and strained to hear it all. And his bones reknit themselves together. The pain still throbbed, but it became dull. Besides, pain had become Ora's friend, these last few days. He sighed as he rubbed his wrist, making his way back to his, Meleko, and Rosemary's room. Both of them were still in the medical wing of the ship. Meleko was on the mend.
Rosemary would need something more. The thought worried Ora. But he could not think of that now. The Shard of Imagination would still be in Chliofrond. He had seen it with his own eyes, glowing and beautiful and overwhelming.
Dangerous, above all else. He took a deep breath, and flicked his communicator on. By now the sun was rising on the distant horizon, and he had to rub his eyes to stay awake.
Arthrux Drif's voice came tinny through the communicator.
“This is Lieutenant Commander Arthrux Drif of the New Home’s Comfort,” he said, “This is... the investigator?”
“It is,” Ora said, “Please send word: confirmation of a Shard of Imagination on the dead plane. I'm sending you the coordinates to the Traveling Point.”
There was silence on the line for a few moments.
“Affirmative,” Drif said, “You're lucky. There's a Traveling Point nearby that we can piggyback off of using a Silverfish. Attempting contact with the Department of Multiversal Irregularities.”
Ora nodded. Leaned back.
“This will take a few hours,” Drif said, “I'll contact you when I get a response.”
“Y-Yes,” Ora said, “Thank you.”
The line disconnected. A primal part of Ora took over, forced him to get up from the desk and walk to the bed. He was asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.
***
The filibuster was still on. As it had been for the last few sessions. Lord Rithmound had not ceded the floor. Instead, every day, he would walk into the room, open up a new book, and begin reading.
And then Martin Gondoro had forbidden bringing in books from outside the chamber. So he instead recited anything that came to mind. What he had eaten for breakfast. Poems he had memorized. The usual day to day of his life. Random speeches and philosophical musings.
Anything to waste time. For ten hours a day. Each session. He had taken to not speaking at all at home, to let his voice rest. Isaac could see that the endless talking was getting to his father. He drank warm tea with honey to help soothe his throat. He ate comfort foods, foods that Isaac had not seen him eat since he was a child, mashed potatoes, eggs, pastas with light alfredo.
And now they were at the Grand Commons once more. Martin Gondoro was rubbing his temples, and he let out a heavy sigh at the sight of Rithmound, having already risen. Only half of the audience had arrived today. Only the most important members of each House of the Minor Tribunal were in attendance.
“...Continue, Lord Rithmound,” Gondoro said.
“Of course,” Rithmound said, “I think it's time I turned my attention to something most fascinating, recently, a development that's been affecting that most powerful of nations, the High Federation of the Silver Eye.”
***
Someone knocked on the door. Ora's eyes widened at once. His heart hammered.
When he rose, he found he could not remember the dream he had just been having, save that it was filled with screams. He stumbled to the door, opened it up. Meleko was there, his leg freshly healed.
“Rosemary's awake,” he said, “Did you want to see her?”
“I-I do,” Ora said. He ran to the table, took a look at his communicator. Still no response from Drif. Yet. He took it, just in case, and followed Meleko down the halls of the Guttersnipe and into the medical bay. Rosemary was tucked into a bed there, and despite the muggy warmth of the room, she was wrapped in blankets, with two pillows tucked beneath her head. A cloth had been placed on her forehead. She turned, smiled at Ora and Meleko as they walked in.
“Hey,” she said, and her voice was a whisper.
“H-Hello,” Ora said.
“We did it.”
They had. That realization sunk into Ora for the first time. Relief, all at once, flooded into his system.
“By the First Men, we did,” he said, and he let out a laugh, “We did.”
He stumbled, almost fell. Meleko caught him.
“Woah there, big guy,” Meleko said. He was grinning, too, “Here, why don't you have a seat.”
“Y-Yes,” Ora said.
“What happened?” Rosemary said, “The last thing I remember, we were falling into water.”
Meleko's smile disappeared.
“Brain used the Shard of Imagination. Went nuts with it.”
Rosemary nodded.
“I see,” she said, “Is he...?”
“Dead, most likely,” Meleko said, “I think Brother Bone's still on that beach, crying his eyes out over it.”
He all but glared at the wall, as though he could see the metahuman from inside the ship.
“Serves him right.”
“D-Don't say it like that,” Rosemary said, “It was...”
But she couldn't say much else. For part of her agreed with her guildmate. Ora, for his part, leaned back. His ear flickered.
“It's over now,” he said, “I suppose that's what matters.”
And at that moment, the communicator rang to life. Buzzed in his hands.
***
“The Federation,” Rithmound said, “Let us savor the word for a moment, yes?”
He paused. Just long enough for time to be wasted, but not enough for Gondoro to speak up.
“The apparent strongman of the multiverse. If they so wished, they could come here tomorrow and take Scuttleway in five minutes. We all saw that great globe ship that floated in a few months back, didn't we? I've heard stories of what those can do. And it isn't pretty.”
He shook his head.
“No, it is not.”
***
“Lieutenant Commander Drif,” Ora said, “Good to hear from you.”
“Indeed,” Drif said, “I'm enroute to retrieve you, investigator, as well as anyone else who wants to leave Redenia.”
“Thank you,” Ora said, “My superiors, did they...?”
At that, Drif was quiet.
Then, he spoke up.
“Actually, this went up the grapevine a bit,” he said, “Your notification went up to the Director.”
Ora's blood ran cold. Grand Director Voropline Muandana. He had only seen pictures of her.
“She wants to talk to you,” Drif said, “Via Silverfish. I can connect you two now, if you wish...?”
“Y-Yes,” Ora said, “The sooner, the better.”
“Right,” Drif said, “Dropping off the line now.”
There was another moment's pause. Rosemary and Meleko were looking at him. Ora gave them a weak smile.
“My boss,” he said.
“Gotta stand tall,” Meleko said, “Trust me, I know the feeling. One time, after a bad job on Prime, the guildmaster took me aside and-”
The communicator beeped. The Jugdran shut up.
“Investigator Ora Sota,” a woman's voice came through. Director Muandana was a plant-based being, Ora knew, and he could imagine her speaking to him, flytrap-like mouth opening and closing, forming words in her own language that was translated by the machine she carried with her at all times, “I hope you're alright.”
“A-As f-fine as I can be, Director,” Ora said.
“Oh, calm down, my boy,” Muandana said, “This is not a reprimand. I just want confirmation from you. Verbal. For the record.”
There was an... oddity, to her voice. Her translator was good at picking up the subtleties of her question. Ora sighed. Nodded.
“Yes,” he said, “There was a Shard of Imagination.”
“And where is it now?”
“A...” Ora glanced at Rosemary and Meleko. They nodded.
“A rogue metahuman had it in hand,” Ora said.
“A Mutt?” the Director said, “Did they take it off-plane?”
Rosemary winced.
“No,” Ora said, “It's still there.”
“What is the detail of the plane, investigator?”
“It's...” Ora grimaced, “It's a dead plane. Metahuman ruins. Overgrown islands.”
“I see,” the Director said, “Very well, I suppose it can't be helped then. Tainted by the Mutts, like all the rest of them.”
There was a pause, and he could hear her tapping on a holo-keyboard.
“It will all have to go.”
***
“My point on the Federation is this, ladies and gentlemen,” Rithmound said, “They represent a facet of the multiverse that cannot be ignored. They have been here for thousands of years, and will be here for thousands of years after. They are a core pillar of reality. So, what do we do with them? How do we interact with them?
“Well,” he smiled, “When there's rumors of a lion in the jungle, one takes the proper precautions, yes?”
The crowd stirred.
“Yes, I am precisely suggesting that,” Rithmound said, to the unanswered questions, “In order to survive in the multiverse, one must make sure they toe the line. The Federation is a sleeping lion, one that, when awakened, is a dangerous beast. Entire planes have been annihilated on one of their rampages. So what do we do with that?
“Why, we learn about them. Learn what makes them angry, and avoid doing those things. Find the proper trade routes into their lands. The Silver Eye is home to millions of worlds. Worlds, like Londoa. It's a remarkable business opportunity.
“If one learns to play the rules, of course.”
***
“Have to go?” Ora said, “W-What do you mean?”
“The plane, dear boy,” the Director said, “The dead one. A graveyard for Mutts, yes? With a Shard of Imagination?”
The translator picked up the disgust in her voice.
“Why, all of it must be wiped clean,” she said, “Let it spin as glass for a few thousand years. That should clean it of the rot.”
“It's not r-rotting,” Ora said, “It's a place overgrown. Forests. Trees. Gardens. Plants from across the multiverse. S-Some of them-”
“Yes, investigator?”
“Some of them m-might,” Ora's mind was racing. Rosemary and Meleko were staring at him. Rosemary was almost pleading. Meleko's expression was slowly becoming resigned.
“Some of them?” Director Muandana said, “Mr. Sota?”
“Some of them might be endangered,” Ora said, “They're rare plants, held in time, I believe, by-”
“By the power of dogs, investigator,” the Director said, “This the first time you've worked with metahumans before?”
“Y-Yes,” Ora said.
“Then listen well, as a bit of advice,” the Director said, “Metahumans are a dangerous element in the multiverse. Every ruin they leave behind is corrupt, an example of their spread across reality. Given the chance, they would overtake us all.”
“I-I-”
“The best thing to do, when they're involved with this sort of... contamination,” the Director thought on the word, “Yes, contamination. That's the right word for it. When they use the Shards of Imagination, they leave the plane more dangerous than it was before.”
“Director-”
“The only thing to do is to wipe the slate clean,” the Director said, “And that's what we're going to do.”
***
“What I recommend, as our policy,” Rithmound said, “With the High Federation, is what we have always done. We're on a teetering balance, here in Scuttleway. We are at a point where...”
He glanced around the room. Good. The audience was the locals. Most of the ambassadors, the dignitaries from other parts of Londoa, had failed to appear for today's session.
“We're at the point where we're at the edge of a technological breakthrough,” Rithmound said, “More airships are bought and reverse-engineered by our city every month. My own personal fleet travels across the breadth of the plane nowadays. I've downsized my traditional caravans significantly. We're on the cusp of a zeitgeist.
“So, therefore, we must be careful,” Rithmound said, “With the technologies we produce. What we bring in from other planes. Nothing major. Nothing that will upset the Federation.”
To this, he looked pointedly at the Lady Sunala, across the way. She glared at him. Scratched at the stump of her missing hand.
***
“Director,” Ora said, “That isn't necessary, is it?”
“It is,” Muandana said, “The New Home’s Comfort is en-route, is it not?”
Ora was quiet. His stomach was twisting itself into knots.
“Well,” Muandana said, “It will pick you up. Take you where you need to go. I hear that you've hired a few of the natives to help you, yes? You can drop them off at their old tribal lands, then.”
“They're not, ah, tribal-”
“Once that's done, you're free to go home,” Muandana said, “But before any of that, the New Home’s Comfort is to glass as much of the metahuman plane as it is able.”
Rosemary, somehow, went even paler. Meleko began polishing his rifle, glaring at the ground.
“It's... it's...” Ora said, “It has a glassmaker?”
“A modified one, weaker than the usual make,” Muandana said, “But it should be sufficient. The plane, is it a large one?”
Ora hesitated.
“Investigator?”
“It is not,” he murmured.
“Well, good, then,” Muandana said, “It's decided, then. The New Home’s Comfort will glass the metahuman plane. Then, it will drop you and the hired muscle wherever you wish.”
“...Yes, Director.”
“Is there anything else I need to know?”
“No, Director.”
“Ah, good,” Muandana said, “Now, if you will excuse me, I've a mountain of paperwork still to do. You'll be well rewarded for this find, Mr. Sota. Expect a sizable bonus in your next paycheck. You've done the multiverse a service.”
And she disconnected. Drif's voice came in.
“We'll be there in about half an hour,” he said, “Do be ready for us.”
“...Yes,” Ora said, “Take... take your time.”
***
“Fear the Federation,” Rithmound said, “Fear the bear. Fear the lion. But know how they live. Know what makes them upset, or angry. Know what they will allow. And we shall prosper.”
***
They were quiet as the Shrikeling came into view, heralding the end of the morning and the beginning of afternoon. The great, globular ship hovered over the beach, easily twice the island's size. It covered all of them in its shadow. Meleko stepped out, squinted as he looked up at it, as it eclipsed the midday sun.
A few shuttles were brought down to collect them. Then, upon realizing there was an entire airship to be taken, cables unlatched from the starship and grappled onto the Guttersnipe. It lifted it, hull and all, up into one of its hangars. The small caravel was dwarfed by the Fedtek giant. It fit snugly inside.
Ora noted Bone, glaring up at the starship, disappear into the treeline. No one commented on this. No one, not even the Federation crew, searched for him. No, when everyone was accounted for, the New Home’s Comfort took off.
Towards the Traveling Point.
Drif called up Ora up to the bridge. Meleko, always the guardian, joined him.
“I thought you might want to see this,” the Lieutenant Commander said, “It's going to be quite the light show.”
Light show. As if it were nothing but mere fireworks.
No, there was life there, as the Shrikeling arrived on Chliofrond. Brother Brain's power had wreaked havoc on the elves there. Their ships were destroyed. Many still bobbed dead in the water. The survivors clung to the islands, attending to the wounded, mourning the drowned and the lost.
And the Shrikeling hung above them.
Rosemary's eyes widened. She was down in the medical wing. She rose.
“Ah, ah,” the medical mage said, “Don't get up.”
“They're doing it,” Rosemary whispered, “They're really doing it. Becenti's going to be so upset. Oh my god, they're doing it.”
On the bridge, the weapons op flicked a few switches, pressed a few buttons. Wrote override codes into the console.
“Glassmaker is primed, sir,” he said, “Ready to fire on your command.”
Drif nodded. His hands were behind his back, and he looked all like the professional soldier, like the stories that Ora had been raised on, that his father had told him until the wee hours of the morning.
“Open fire,” Drif said, and his voice was far too casual.
...And the Shrikeling opened up, metal molting, weapons appearing from its walls, the entire shell morphed into a weapons platform bristling with plasma cannons, anti-air artillery mounts, and a long, thin rod.
The glassmaker. It extended from the ship like a proboscis.
Then, it powered up. A strange, thrumming sound came from Ora's feet as energy collected into the glassmaker's base. He could imagine the elves below watching in horror as the light from the glassmaker overtook the sun's. Daytime came from the Federation, now.
And the weapon fired its first volley, beams of light coming down like rain. Screams were drowned out by explosions, by loud bangs that Ora, even inside the Shrikeling, could hear. Steam rose where superheated plasma struck the water. Rocks were made molten. Flesh was seared, bubbled, melted away. Skeletons caught aflame. Armor fused to their owners.
The second shot came down.
The third.
Most of the water steamed around them. The freshwater sea was evaporating. The trees died. One of the islands went up in flames.
The fourth shot struck where Brother Brain's body must have been, still holding the Shard of Imagination, for it exploded in a miasma of rainbows.
And, with it destroyed, Chronilock's powers deactivated.
Time began to move on Chliofrond once more. Some of the islands began to sink into the quickly-disappearing sea.
“Faster,” Drif said, “Let's get this over with.”
“Increasing intensity,” the weapons op said.
And, indeed, the glassmaker began to fire so quickly that it almost seemed to stream out a beam. Chliofrond burned, and froze, and receded, and broke in certain parts, and melted in others. Plasma heaped up on the islands and began to cool into mounds. Give it a few months, and they would take on a glass-like, ashen quality.
And the glassmaker kept firing.
…
…
It took hours. Ora could not keep watching. He eventually excused himself, his stomach boiling. He and Meleko went back down to the hangar, to the Guttersnipe and Rosemary. The entire crew was quiet. Rosemary was pale-faced. She nodded to Meleko as he walked into the room.
“...It's almost done,” the Jugdran said, “Another hour, I think.”
And they said nothing else. Meleko sat down at a chair by Rosemary's bed. Ora put his back to the wall. Slid down, tucked his knees to his chest. His arms gripped his legs.
He started to rock himself.
Outside, even through the walls of wood, the walls of Fedtek metal, they heard the explosions. The thrum of plasma fire, as the Shrikeling unleashed the rest of its weapons platform on Chliofrond.
The only recourse was time. And, eventually, thankfully, miraculously, the explosions ceased. Ora knew that all that was outside was molten glass. Ash. Fire.
Death.
The Shrikeling lurched, and moved away. Out of the newly created wastelands. The dead plane was truly dead.
Ora looked up at Rosemary.
“...They hate you, you know,” he said.
The New Home’s Comfort entered the Traveling Point. Rainbows surrounded the Shrikeling, that energy known as Imagination.
“They hate all of it,” Ora said, “The metahumans. The elves. The multiverse. All of it. They don't understand it. They would rather it had never existed at all.”
Rosemary opened her mouth to say something, but stopped. She settled back into the bed, covered her face with a blanket.
Ora said nothing else on the journey back to Londoa.