27 – An expert of the arcane

Secrecy is the greatest of weapons.

No strength can crush an enemy one can’t see.

No strategy can triumph against an enemy one doesn’t understand.

No victory is meaningful, if one doesn’t know what they’re fighting for.

* The Black Library’s operational code

“Althea! Help! I’m almost dead!” Kaelich yells, ducking behind a flowerpot, which was inexplicably unaffected by the enemy’s explosive spores. Xe took down two Infested, but three more are shambling toward xem, and xe got hit by a barrage of spores. Who even knew that the orange Infested could shoot long range?

“On it,” Althea says, “Sori, hang on.”

“I’m dying too,” Sorivel grumbles, lying motionless in a side alley.

“Who cares,” Althea says, “you can’t shoot for shit anyway. Ceri, cover me while I heal our fearless leader.”

“Ok, but hurry up. Three hostiles approaching,” I say.

I’ve set up on a nearby roof, with a sniper rifle which I can barely use. I can blink twice to look through its magnified scope, which in theory makes aiming easier, but it’s really slow and gives me a headache.

Althea runs to Kaelich and raises both arms. A small green cross flashes around xem, and xir life bar slowly fills up.

The three Infested turn the corner, and two of the monsters walk toward my exposed friends, while the third one stops, the orange fungus on its body growing and pulsing.

I activate the sniper’s scope, but my aim is skewed – wait, am I aiming too left or too right? The visual is so narrow I can’t tell. I scope out to normal vision, roughly aim at the Infested, scope in again.

Finally, I have the monster in my sights. It looks like a man, with flaking gray skin, tattered clothes, and orange mycelium lines running along his skin, like marbling.

And it’s shooting at me.

“Fuck, it’s…”

I try to duck, but the damned rig reacts a split second too slowly, and I got hit square in the chest. My vision flashes red, and the whole sim-rig vibrates.

The text CRITICAL HIT – INCAPACITATED pops in my vision, while the world becomes gray and hazy.

“Althea, heals!” I call.

“Look, I’ll kill these guys and then I’ll heal you all,” she answers.

“Do you know what healer even means?” Sorivel asks, exasperated. “Have you healed anyone in this game?”

“What kind of pathetic power is healing anyway,” Althea answers. “Now I’ll show you how it’s… whops!”

ALTHEA - INCAPACITATED, a notification warns me.

KAELICH – INCAPACITATED

A sad music starts playing.

TEAM INCAPACITATED – ZERO RESPAWNS REMAINING - GAME OVER

Points:

Kaelich: 1215

Cerical: 347

Sorivel: 149

Althea: -86

“With our heroes fallen,” a sad voice narrates, “nothing could stop the fungal tide anymore. Mycelium spread through the once-beautiful halls of Utopia, and…”

“Oh, cut the crap,” I say. “End simulation.”

THANKS YOU FOR PLAYING XENOWATCH IV – SIM EDITION!

The game world fades to black, and the visor’s headband loosens, allowing me to easily peel it off. For a moment, I’m in total darkness, then the cubicle’s light turn on. It takes me a couple of minutes to take off all the gear– the equipment for a full-haptic sim game is as complex as ThauCon armor, and I’m far less familiar with it.

This game was utterly ridiculous. The setting rivals Ocean Woman in absurdity. The gameplay encourages bad tactics, excessively rewarding aggression and flashy moves instead of caution and preparation.

Still, I’m annoyed that I performed so poorly. It wasn’t really my fault, though, the rig didn’t react fast enough when I ducked.

I put my clothes back on –the VR rig must be worn over underwear, but Kaelich picked this VR arcade partly because it offers private gaming cubicles - ‘out of respect for your stupid culture’, as xe said. When I’m presentable again, I walk back into the lobby. All the others are there already.

“Did you have fun?” Kaelich asks. Xe looks a little worried.

Althea laughs.

“It was amazing!” she says. “Lost Stars, I thought sim gaming sucked, but it was because the rigs in my town’s only VR arcade were probably fifty years old. We must do this again! But by the Forgotten Enemy, this is the last time I play healer.”

Kaelich's worried expression breaks into a wide grin. “You asked for the closest thing to a mage!”

“And how is healing anything like magic?” Althea asks, baffled. “It’s rude that the setting doesn’t include battle mages. Well, except as villains. But I’ll try playing that character with the rocket launcher next time! What about you, Ceri? We should synergize.”

“This game is ridiculous,” I say. “And the VR rigs aren’t that good. I was incapacitated because it reacted too slowly.”

Kaelich claps xir hands, beaming. “Your very first game, and you’re already blaming lag! You’ll be a pro in no time, Ceri.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

I was going to say I’m not interested in playing again, but Kaelich and Althea are so happy, the words die in my mouth. While the experience was confusing and not especially fun, I'm surprised when I realize… I don’t mind the idea of playing again. It’s something we can do together, and doesn’t require me to talk besides asking for heals and calling enemies’ positions. My favorite kind of bonding activity.

“The problem wasn’t the lag, it was the total lack of heals,” Sorivel says, surprisingly bitter. “And Kaelich overextended as usual.”

Kaelich laughs. “You always take this game so seriously.”

I’m surprised – Sorivel isn’t usually very interested in games, or entertainment in general, even if he’s happy to follow Kaelich wherever xe goes.

“It’s just that if we do something, we should do it properly,” he says. “the Navigator teaches us to seek perfection in all of our pursuits.”

Althea shrugs. “And the Engineer says that half-assing stuff is fine, and perfectionism is for losers.”

Sorivel closes his eyes. “That’s not exactly what He says, but I have to admit it’s not very far. The Engineer’s book is… not the philosophically deepest one.”

I decide to intervene before they can start a theological argument. I learned, with some dismay, that while she doesn't consider herself a Student of the Officers, Althea is surprisingly knowledgeable about the Engineer’s Book, and very willing to argue theology.

“About being prepared,” I say, “there’s something I meant to discuss, Kaelich. We really should insist on wearing full field suits at the university - helmets, gloves and all.”

Combat armor would be even better, but wearing it for ten hours at a time is so taxing on the body, it would become a liability. But currently, we’re doing guard duty in what’s informally called half-suits – field suits without helmets and gloves. That’s the usual attire for low risk assignments, and for interacting with civilians, since it makes it easier to talk and use electronics, but it’s a major vulnerability in case of a fight. Especially considering that, if a mage was to infiltrate the University as Jaeleri speculated, their path would probably be Lies or Mind - and without our silver-lined helmets, we'd have zero protection.

Kaelich looks intently at the scoreboard, making a show of checking our points in the stupid game.

“Lemme check… no, your score didn’t go up,” xe says, serious. “Apparently, killing the fun doesn’t give you points, even on a critical hit!”

“Come on,” I say, “we had enough fun. This is important.”

Xe looks like xe’s actually thinking about it.

“See, Ceri, it’s about cost and benefit,” xe says, after a few seconds. “You’re right, there’s a small but real chance a second or third level mage comes, we have to fight without the time to gear up, and helmets save us from a horrible death. But - there’s also a one-hundred percent chance that wearing helmets ten hours a day will suck. And even more important, there’s a small, but real chance that I’ll score a date with some hot student, if I wear my dashing field half-suit. But what’s the point of looking good and having dimples, if I wear a helmet? So, half-suit it is.”

“Attempting to seduce one of the students we’re supposed to protect would be unprofessional, dangerous, and a sin,” Sorivel says, surprisingly acidic, as we pay the arcade and leave for the tube station. “But why do I even tell you.”

Kaelich looks at him, surprised, then shrugs. “Don’t worry. I’ll do most of the sinning when we’re off duty. And anyway, Gehat has command, so I don’t need to do much. The day I won’t be able to flirt while I keep watch on a boring evil artifact, I’ll retire.”

“The two of us should wear full suits, Sori,” I say, trying to keep the conversation on track. “Kaelich will come around at some point.”

Sorivel cocks his head, thinking. Lord of Seas, who would have guessed that the dour, scripture-quoting techie would prove the most reliable person in the whole base.

“Not saying you’re wrong,” Sorivel says, “but with the silver in the helmet, I can’t watch out for Else activity. And if we keep teaming up with Jaeleri instead of Althea, I think the added awareness is more useful than the added protection.”

I sigh. “I hate good, logical arguments when they’re used against me.”

“Was that a joke, Ceri?” Althea says, suddenly wrapping one arm around the small of my back and drawing me close. “You have a sense of humor? That’s so hot.”

Kaelich stops texting and looks at me, a mischievous smile on xir face. I keep a neutral expression, but I feel my accursed ears turning red.

“So, you’re officially an item!” Kaelich says. “I still can’t believe you managed this, Althea. I thought Cerical only liked reading spreadsheets.”

“We’re not an item! We haven’t agreed to anything!” I say.

“Totally true,” Althea says, “we’re good, pure friends, who occasionally kiss like good friends and once made out, like good colleagues. On an unrelated note, Corporal, do you know where we can find a good, secluded room without black mold, in our sorry excuse for a base? I feel you’d know.”

Kaelich laughs. “Your fault for wanting to be one of the team and not requesting a private room. You’d be entitled to one, as a Council mage, you know. But I can give you a couple of hints, just tell me…”

I get a way too vivid image of Althea taking me to a good, unused, secluded room - I happen to know where to find several, from my survey for Quicksilver - and the blush spreads to my cheeks, despite my best efforts.

But some contrarian part of me insists I can’t just let myself end up in a relationship, like this, like an accident. Especially a relationship of dubious professionalism.

“Now, seriously, calm a bit,” I say. “I… enjoyed our, uhm, spontaneous intimacy so far, Althea. But I’m an adult, I won’t let base impulses dictate my behavior. We’re not in a relationship, yet.”

Relationships don’t just happen, and especially they don’t just happen to me.

Althea looks at me, worried. Kaelich has the good sense to grab Sorivel and fall a few steps behind us, looking suddenly interested in the frozen canal.

“I… sorry, Cerical,” Althea says, taken aback. “It’s… I didn’t mean to be pushy. You seemed very… look, I’m sorry. I think some stuff might work a little different in Golden Coast, compared to Zelenia. So… do you want me to, err, take it easier? Or… to stand back. I know you didn’t commit to anything. And that I am… well, that I am what I am.”

I take a deep breath. I’m not good with people, and I realize what I said sounded very different from what I meant. I’m not rejecting her, I just want to do things properly. And Althea is looking at me, worried, and I know that if she thinks I don’t care for her except for lust, she’ll feel terrible. But my explanations never work, people always get the wrong impression.

And suddenly the night’s cold is intolerable, and our steps are too loud, and I want to run away and… not have this conversation.

I feel the all-consuming, mindless panic of a crisis approaching. No, I can’t do this. I can deal with this. How do normal people deal with stuff like this?

I try to think about Kaelich, and xir easy way with people.

But what jumps to my mind are Quicksilver’s words.

You’re an Intelligence Officer. I don’t care about degrees, I care about skills. So, show me your work.

I don’t need an emotional speech. I need to make myself understood. To make a clear report.

“You misunderstand me,” I say. “Yes, there are significant cultural and personal differences between us, that can lead to different relationship expectations. But your behavior wasn’t unwelcome, and as you’ll remember, our… close interactions weren’t always initiated by you. Because I do like you, and I wish we were closer. I’d just prefer us to… go through clear steps.”

Althea looks at me, and my throat seizes – I’m afraid she’ll laugh at my formality. How did I think talking like I’m making a report would be a good idea? People don’t do that.

“Oh,” she says, nodding. “Great. I was getting worried, there. So… like, we make out again, but write an itemized plan for it in advance? Oh, wait. Would you like to go on a dinner date?”

My mind goes blank with relief for a moment. A date. Yes, that’s how it’s supposed to go, right?

“I… didn’t we just have dinner together?” I say, suddenly confused. “Like we do most days.”

She shrugs. “Not the point. A date is not just having dinner together. We’ll go to a fancy restaurant and shit, I don’t know how to spend my allowance anyway. Would tomorrow be okay? I know for a fact that you don’t have other plans.”

I feel the cold of the night seeps away from my muscle, and a soft warmth replaces it. “That… sounds great, actually. Do you, uhm, want to kiss, since we’re here?”

***