We had been clearing rooms in Engineering for two hours, and my body felt like seven shades of hell. I leaned against Taga’s back, enjoying the warmth of his scales, while he sat on the ground, forge-welding bulkhead panels together with his bare hands. A few hours ago, I would have been fascinated with how he did it; now, I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the ambient warmth as it did wonderful things to my muscles.
I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s take it back to the beginning.
Heshae and I arrived in the middle of a firefight: Ulketh and his guards were on one side, and the same squad I saw in the hold was on the other. It was a large, diamond-shaped room split into an upper and lower level—a grated observation deck up top for the overseers and a mess of pipes that descended from the ceiling into a labyrinth of machines on the lower level.
A set of stairs that split the diamond in half connected the lower and upper floors; Heshae and I were closer to them, but the attacking group had the straighter route.
Ulketh’s guards were firing kinetic weapons from the balcony on the upper level with practiced ease, using their constructed defenses to their advantage. Behind the safety of his guards was Ulketh, firing off wild, frantic shots of crystal shards with a strange crescent-shaped weapon wherever he found an opening.
Taga was pushing a crate the size of a small car down the main corridor on the lower level, which kept Ulketh and his guards from getting a good angle on him. Whenever the guards’ fire died, his companions would pop out from cover and answer back with cobbled-together crossbows and captured small arms while Taga continued to push toward the stairs.
I winced as their shots bounced harmlessly around the defenders’ barricades. Our side was making a good show of it, but they weren’t taking the time to be precise with their shots. The defenders on the upper level reloaded calmly, almost unconcerned by their advance. A lack of space or ammo would stop them at some point. Even if it didn’t, I didn’t think Taga could carry the crate up the stairs.
I turned back to Heshae and whispered, “I don’t know how they’re going to make that last charge up to the balcony once they’re forced to abandon cover.”
She peeked over my head as I continued to watch things unfold. Something about the defenders’ tactics was…odd. They had an elevated position and superior firepower; it didn’t make sense to try and pick them off. Why not just flank them and take them out? I couldn’t put my finger on it, though.
Heshae’s quarterstaff tapped the ground. She took a deep breath and replied, “Neither do I. Taga is strong, but he’s not made of [warrior-elite-magic-living-metal]. Perhaps we could distract the overseers and give them enough time to advance.”
“Move further down, you morons!” Ulketh shouted, his gun arm gesturing wildly in the air. As soon as he popped his head out to berate his guards, a firebomb arced over Taga’s crate and shattered against the ceiling, raining fire down on the balcony. Liquid flame dripped through the balcony grating, bathing the entire room in an orange-yellow glow, and a scream of frustration burst from the upper level.
Ulketh slid further in our direction with his guards in tow, speaking in a low voice at his guards before he moved to the back of the room and out of my line of sight. I heard something heavy being moved upstairs, but I couldn’t tell what it was from my vantage point.
“Why don’t you go fuck a [ravenous-slaughter-predator-terror-stalker], you [voidborn-refuse-eater]!” A smaller, modulated version of my voice yelled out from behind the barricade. Even without a complete understanding of what was said, I chuckled a bit and nodded to myself.
I started to sneak out from the doorway in a crouch until a thin fragment of purple crystal whizzed past my face and struck the wall. My head whipped upward, and I saw Ulketh looking right at me, his eyebrows raised. His mouth moved, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.
A second shot struck an inch from the first. I spun back into the doorway beside Heshae, wiping sweat from my forehead.
That guy may act like he’s out of control, but he doesn’t shoot like it. Screw it, let’s get mean.
I blew a lock of hair away from my face and looked at Heshae. “Once I make it to the stairs, have the others follow me up. Push them towards the fire.”
I didn't give her time to agree and dashed from my cover in the doorway, making a beeline for the stairs. The shh-kee shh-kee sound of two more shots peppered my previous position as Ulketh continued to draw a bead on me. I ignored the shards that shattered against the machine behind me as my hands danced in the air.
Excess anima created a white-gray cat’s cradle from my fingertips, which burst into silver ribbons as my casting completed. I didn’t have the time to ensure my casting was efficient, but I got the result I wanted: part of the bulkhead beside me groaned and sagged as I pushed forward.
“Vass, we have a problem,” he said, one hand pressed to the base of his neck, the other firing his weapon repeatedly. One shard pierced my robes before shattering against my skin, another hit my neck and deflected into the wall, and a third caught in my hair and shook out onto the ground a few seconds later.
His rounds shattered when they hit the bulkhead; now, they did the same with me. I couldn’t catch what he said as he turned around, but I saw him motion to the other guards and jog casually for the door at the other end of the balcony.
“You’re fuckin’ right you have a problem!” I yelled back as I slid to the bottom of the stairs. A guard posted at the top of the stairs whipped his rifle over their barricade and trained it on me; I roared at him in response. My blood was pumping in my ears as my hands yanked at the handrail, propelling me up the stairs three at a time.
The eyes of the Gaal guard widened in shock as I rushed him, and he sprayed a hail of fire down at me. Two shots smacked into me that felt like someone driving their fist into my chest, and I tried to ignore it. Another shot hit me in the stomach and knocked the wind out of me, driving me to one knee. The next shot felt like someone jamming their boot into my right shoulder, and the pain drove me to the ground.
I was now officially pissed off.
My left hand reached through the railing to my left toward the droplets of flame and tensed into a claw, then raked across my body like I was tossing something. I dredged up a recollection of a flamethrower and merged it with the memory of a snowstorm that blew so hard the snow seemed to come from the side instead of above me. Anima trailed from my hands like silver-white claw slashes, and the puddles of flame on the ground raked up at an angle, spraying the guard with gouts of flame.
Before the screaming started I was already up on my feet and scrambling up the stairs. My hand gripped around the barrel of his weapon and tore the weapon from his hands. I must have broken a finger or two because his screaming got louder and he clutched at his hand, still smoking from the temporary blast of flame.
The screaming abruptly stopped once I choked up on the rifle with both hands and smacked it against his shoulder, sending him tumbling against the nearby wall. He struck with a dull whump, but I didn’t have time to inspect my handiwork; I was already shoving his cover into a position I could use to continue my assault.
“…Understood. We’re moving,” Ulketh said with a cold calm, his burning white eyes sizing me up with ruthless curiosity. “Fall back and burn the door shut.”
He bowed to me—actually bowed to me, the bastard—and fired another trio of shots against my cover, then dipped through the doorway on the other side of the upper level. His guards continued to fire their shots in rotating bursts as they followed him.
Three of the people on our side made it up the stairs moments later and dashed for the door, followed by Taga and Heshae. Their pounding on the door was ceaseless, but through it all, I heard Heshae say, “…Very headstrong.”
I smirked and sat down against the barricade as Taga stood over us, watching the door. I wasn’t going to lie to myself, those shots had hurt. I’d probably be sporting bruises tomorrow. Taga’s massive pangolin-crocodile head swung from smiling at me (at least, I hoped it was smiling) to the three at the door.
“WON’T OPEN. WELDED SHUT. WAIT FOR OTHERS.”
Holy shit, his voice was loud. Well, my voice in his mouth was loud. After the initial confusion, Heshae explained how I was able to talk to them, which saved me the trouble. I checked myself for any lasting damage, Taga helped me to my feet, and we retreated a few rooms away while the engineers worked on the door. I looked at the two new holes in my robes with no small amount of regret; it felt like I was whittling on a memory of home.
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Overall, it was one hell of an introduction.
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The next two hours were a crash course in species and personalities. While I was already well acquainted with the various personalities and vagaries of different species that lived in close proximity to my own, those groups banded together out of necessity and tradition. We stopped thinking of ourselves as a series of different species and just felt like we were the “survivors.”
These people had a common language and a common goal, but that was where the camaraderie stopped.
Rexiel was the fox-lizard with four arms from the cargo hold. He was from a species called the Udari, part of the Corath caste. Over the last two hours, I heard him say a total of six words; he tended to use sign language to converse with the others. That is, when he wasn’t sharpening his shortsword, slinking through the shadows to try and dispatch someone, or brooding like broody people do when they’re psyching themselves up for something self-destructive.
I got the feeling Rexiel was completely comfortable ending people on a regular basis. Either that, or he was a damn fine actor.
The smaller creature from earlier in the hold was another Onalir named Messec. He sported an environmental suit with the same coloring as Duguf and used a weapon that looked like a crossbow mixed with a combustion engine that shot quills dipped in neurotoxin. His neurotoxin. He explained that Onalir stay inside their suits when they’re not in an enclave because of it; if you brush up against them, you’ll find it pretty hard to breathe in the next minute or so.
He disabled the engines during the initial uprising but got separated from his group during his escape from primary propulsion. The mad little guy traversed the access tunnels from one end of the ship to the other just to join back up and continue the fight.
He was the one who chucked the firebomb earlier. I liked him.
The Firoma’s name was Ereia, and she was absolutely stunning. When I was growing up, I found several Pact species and genders attractive, but she put them all to shame. Her dark skin had a scattering of dusky lavender freckles, and her long, straight sunset-colored hair framed her face like a splash of twilight. She wore her hair tied into a long braid that she wrapped around her neck and pinned to the collar of her short cloak.
After the third or fourth skirmish, we found ourselves sitting next to one another passing a waterskin back and forth, and she complimented my hair. I replied, “Yeah, uh… you too… yeah.”
Hooray for eloquence; Gods preserve us.
We actually had a decent conversation once I found my voice again. I learned that her beauty was the reason her parents sold her into slavery. She was trained and eventually auctioned, and I was surprised and disheartened that she didn’t seem bitter about it. I gave her some insight into human anatomy, and she revealed that she had seduced Ulketh and destroyed his “Circlet of Authority,” which was the catalyst for the entire uprising.
I didn’t need much explanation to figure out what the Circlet was for, and her description of the pain it inflicted was so matter-of-fact that I got queasy. My skin crawled when I thought of my attraction to her, especially after knowing her story. It took a little time for me to circle around to apologize for it, but she responded with a nonchalant shrug and said, “You can’t help what you like.”
I still felt like crap about it.
Last but certainly not least, Taga Night-Breaking-Clear, the Embrial the size of a freight train. Of all of the creatures that composed this assault group, he was the most open. My stunt in the cargo hold that nearly got me killed made me somewhat of a good luck charm in his eyes, and he was going to make sure that I and everyone else knew it, too.
His unshakable faith in me was because of his unshakable faith in Lasaret, a two-faced God who practiced honesty and deceit in equal measure.
Here’s how he explained it: acting without warning my enemy was deceitful. But, I also worked out of a need to free an innocent (myself), and there was no guile in that action. So, it was an honest action done deceitfully—the ultimate expression of Lasaret’s will on the universe. Seeing as it was my first action after being released from my chrysalis, Taga took it as a sign that he was acting within Lasaret’s auspices.
I mentioned that almost every action could have ulterior motives but ultimately benefit someone. Taga brightened—and by that, I mean the light under his scales increased in brightness—and he said that was part of the point. I still didn’t get it. I replied that I’d have to read the pamphlet later, but I don’t think he got the joke.
Life settled into a strange rhythm. We’d clear a room of personnel and traps, mark it off our map, breach whatever barricades the defenders had made, reset the doors' codes, and do it all over again. It was grating work. The fighting part of the process lost its luster after the fourth or fifth skirmish when Ulketh and his various Rent-a-Bastards managed to slip away.
Mercifully, we were making progress, and people started talking about the Lifeweaver Nexus in more urgent tones. After listening for a bit, I spoke up, “So the Lifeweaver Nexus controls air, heat, and water. Why haven’t they turned those off, just asphyxiate us or make us freeze to death?”
Messec said, “Safeguards won’t let them. Those systems are ‘always on,’ which keeps owners and captains from threatening their vassals or crew with it. Morality safeguards, the Confederacy calls them.”
“And there’s no way to turn them off,” I said, “No override; they can’t grab something and pry out those safeguards?”
“It’d be like committing suicide, if it even worked in the first place. No, they’re holed up in there because it’s the location most hardened against attack,” Messec said.
“RUSH THEM. FINISH THIS, THEN WE LEAVE,” Taga said, bumping his knuckles against the ground with a whump.
“If we move hastily, we’re likely to have more casualties,” Heshae responded.
Rexiel clapped his hands and pointed to his eyes, then gestured in the direction of the Nexus. We all watched him make an intricate series of signs before he said, “Spy.”
Ereia nodded and shouldered her rifle, “Rex is right: he can get in and see what’s happening, then report back. Until then, we wait.”
I slumped down against the wall and rubbed my stomach, which growled about ten minutes ago. I hated waiting.
Messec drew Rexiel aside, hastily sketched a series of diagrams on a piece of paper, and passed it to Rexiel. He spun slowly as he oriented himself to the map, and then stalked into the gloom of the portside door. The others broke out and passed around wafers that smelled vaguely of soap while I continued to get grumpier over not being able to eat anything. I chugged some more water and pitied the next unfriendly person who crossed my path.
Like clockwork, I closed my eyes and checked my Tether: about a third left in the tank.
I was afraid of that. Since I came to consciousness, most of my time had been spent repeatedly casting translation spells. The spells I cast didn’t have a chance to settle into a rhythm where they’d sip at my anima. Instead, I was casting them, dispelling them, then casting them again. I was causing my anima to surge every time I’d cast, like flipping the switch on a cold light bulb. Repeated casting had chipped away at my reserves.
It didn’t help that I was also being slapdash with my casting; when a Human’s casting is “complete,” it doesn’t emit excess Anima. It just happens. I was sacrificing efficiency for speed. Well, if it worked, I wasn’t going to complain. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can find out where I need to go, and the sooner we can get there.
This brought up another important point: I hadn’t actually set the price for my aid. I had just done it without negotiating. Was that okay? Was that how things worked around here? I was used to just doing things when I was asked or if I saw they needed to be done. So naturally, I just did the same thing here.
Oh well. They might not like it, but I’ll get them to help. Maybe I could just get Taga to bully them into doing it.
That made me snicker, which in turn made Heshae look at me and raise an eyebrow. I shook my head and mentally grabbed at the other tangled web in proximity: what in the hell were the overseers up to? There had to be a reason for the delaying tactics.
Heshae had been worried that they were trying to find a way to cut off life support, but Messec said it was nearly impossible for them to break the safeguards. So if it wasn’t to buy more time to cut off this Lifeweaver Nexus thing, then it had to be—
It made more sense the more I thought about it.
Our side is worried about being recaptured, and they need to control engineering to get away. They’re not the only ones who can prioritize their needs. Someone on the other side must have thought the same, or they had planned for this eventuality. They’re waiting us out until someone shows up to reclaim their property.
I snapped back to the active conversation; I had to know if they were thinking the same thing I was. “…knew what had been said in the Gathering Hall, even though she was unconscious at the time,” I heard Heshae say before she turned toward me and asked, “Amelin? Are you able to explain how you knew what happened during your transport to the infirmary?”
I stopped trying to interrupt and thought, It's not a bad idea, but—
“When I’m sleeping, I’m not here," I said, “I’m somewhere else, in a place where my magic comes from. That’s where all of our surface thoughts, our emotions, our [dreams] go. But more importantly—”
“DREEM? WHAT IS DREEM?” Taga said, inching closer to me.
Godsdamnit, I thought to myself, Let's get this over with.
Many things separated Humans from other species, but the difference that stood out above all the others was the ability to recall our dreams. A tek might growl or bark in their sleep. An Orval, Tevelish, or Alvi might wake up with a start. Ask any of them to recall their dreams, and you’d end up with confused stares.
Hell, most Humans forgot what happened in their dreams by the time they had breakfast. But the ones that remember, that can truly recall what happened? Those are the ones that can become Conduits.
“They’re… thoughts and images,” I said, “that your brain processes when you’re asleep; like a memory, but different. Most of the time they just happen to you, but some of my people learned how to change them. Then, they learned how to store them. Eventually, they figured out how to connect them to reality. It’s how our magic works.”
Blank stares all around. Ereia blinked once and said, “Can we use these dreams to see into the Nexus?”
I was dubious about that idea. I had never attempted a dive into the Gossamer outside of natural sleep before. I had seen it done with narcotics—it was standard practice to do recon before a foray into the wastes—but it was a skill that was restricted to more experienced Conduits.
“Maybe, but I’ve never tried it before. And I wouldn’t try it with the anima I have left. But—”
Heshae’s shoulders drooped slightly, but the others’ expressions didn’t change much. Rexiel was still out there, so I figured they were just asking to see what other tricks I had.
Taga huffed and said, “YOU HAVE DONE MUCH TODAY. TRY THIS LATER.”
Finally, I could get a word in edgewise and blurted out, “Have any of you thought that the reason we’re being hindered is because they’re stalling for reinforcements?”
Understanding blossomed on their faces, and the silence that followed devoured any talk of dreams. A new conversation took its place; one where even Heshae recommended haste. We needed to get to the Nexus and deal with the stragglers, now.