I explored the small apartment more thoroughly but came up with very little else of note. There was a television which only got local channels. As I turned to watch it, time stopped around me, and the TV was suddenly something bigger and better, more lucid, its entirety stretching across the wall. Explosions sounded, and a fighter jet roared through the crystal blue sky of some alien world.

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I swiped it away and the world came back to its normal self. The TV blared, tinny and whiny compared to what I’d just been shown. But I felt like I probably had more important things to deal with.

News of the riot on sub level one dominated the airwaves, from various perspectives.

The local BlueCleave-friendly station was calling it a horrible tragedy in the wake of necessary law enforcement action and had commentators speculating on the nature of the rioters, saying they were fighting against the very concept of civilization. Barbarians at the gates.

Meanwhile, on a resistance-friendly network that self-styled as a pirate broadcast, they called the rioters heroes, and proclaimed their actions justified. They focused on the extrajudicial killings that had sparked the riot and bloviated at length about the brutality and lawless behavior of the BlueCleave soldiers that had sparked it. Barbarous actions from barbarous oppressors.

One thing both networks could agree upon was the fact that the resistance was showing no signs of halting its violence.

After browsing for a bit longer, I found a channel that broadcast an aerial view of the grow-houses in a subterranean level. The flow of workers, deliveries, and product being hauled around was soothing, so I left it on that channel and went to the bar.

A yarsp and jellyfish burrito was the only thing in the refrigerator that didn’t require much cooking, and while I hesitated at the jellyfish, it turned out to be delicious. The jellyfish was not from Nu-Earth, and melted amongst the yarsp, rice, beans, and salsa to act as a kind of salty cheese-like binder for the entire thing.

I devoured it and had a few drinks from the bar, idly watching the tv and wondering when they would come back for me. The thought crossed my mind that in spite of Terna’s kind words, I was indeed her prisoner. But restrained only by my reluctance to cause violence or destruction on her world ship.

While thinking about my situation, I was tempted to run instead of getting caught up in her resistance against BlueCleave, but the fact was that I would demolish any kind of partnership with her if I did. The chance to take down BuyMort, however remote, kept me still and in hiding.

After a couple of hours, I fell asleep and had fitful dreams. The loyal hobb police officer died in a sea of angry aliens, ripped apart while I watched and did nothing to help, paralyzed into inactivity.

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Some time later the door slid open and I woke up with a jolt of panic. It quickly dissipated when I saw Terna walk in with a Knowle. The Knowle had to duck to make it in the doorway, and looked cramped once she was inside.

“Tyson, this is Mirdanna, our local historian. You can trust her,” Terna said.

I stood and nodded, before reaching a hand out to the Knowle woman. With a shaking paw and wide eyes, she reached out and lightly shook my hand.

“It really is him,” she breathed. “I’m sorry, I trusted you Terna, it’s just . . .”

“It’s a lot, I know,” Terna replied.

“Hi,” I said. “It’s nice to meet a Knowle who isn’t enraptured by Axle.”

Her lip curled and she shook her head. “That Knowle is a perversion of all that we are meant to be. He withholds information that should be disseminated freely and oppresses those who speak up against him.”

“I’m sorry, Mirdanna. I feel like at least some of that is my fault,” I said.

Her eyes widened again and both ears perked up to full attention. “What do you mean?” she asked, while drawing a notebook and pen from her shoulder bag.

I shrugged. “He wasn’t like that when we first met. But . . . I don’t know, our time together changed him pretty drastically. Our situation, maybe, or just my leadership. It’s honestly hard to say. I wasn’t exactly kind toward him during the Church war.”

Mirdanna’s eyes glistened and she rapidly took notes. “Tell me everything,” she breathed. “I’m writing an unauthorized biography on him. He’s the most important Knowle figure since the fall of Second Knowledge.”

“Oh, he helped me kill the beholder responsible for that fall,” I said. “The Blackguard, we called him. Or Inky, the news liked that name better.”

When she didn’t take any notes, I sighed and smiled wanly. “I had him under constant security after an attempt on his life made me paranoid. There was no way I could run the affiliate without him. I had no mind for numbers. Still don’t, really. But the security kept getting tighter, and he became more and more isolated. Nothing but his work for any comfort or distraction, he recently told me.”

The rapid scribbling resumed.

“Eventually, the security I felt necessary had him traveling with a heavy guard, several warships, and he was constantly hopping universes to keep his location secret. He was stuck like that for months, and by the end of it, he had become someone else,” I told her. “I also cost him his mate, in a couple of ways.”

“His mate?” Mirdanna asked. “There is no record of him being mated during the Church war.”

“She was a pilot, named Jada,” I said with a small nod. “One of my best.” I moved around to the bar and poured myself a fresh drink of mid-shelf tequila, avoiding Morbin’s blue stuff intentionally. It tasted like corn syrup.

“At first, they fought over her use of a starfish suit,” I explained. “I think that drove her away from him, and she became much more invested in my military.

“Then,” I said, hesitating before continuing. “Then she died when the vortex spider destroyed her ship.” I gulped my tequila and poured another, bigger tumbler full.

“I’m sorry. This must be hard to relive, even as long ago as it was,” Mirdanna said. Her eyes glinted with sincerity, but her continued scribbling in her notebook made me doubt her words.

“Actually, it wasn’t all that long ago for me,” I said. “I was frozen in Sleem for the last century. The last thing I remember doing back then was depositing the Thread of Fate in Sleem.”

She nearly gasped but got her reaction under control. “Of course!” she exclaimed. “Sleem is the perfect place for it! Thank you so much. That is one of the bigger pieces of information Axle has kept hidden from us.”

“Mirdanna,” Terna interrupted with a small smile. “You are here to provide him with information. I’m sure Tyson would be happy to do more interviews with you at another time.”

The Knowle woman nodded rapidly and closed her notebook. “You are right, of course. I lost myself in my excitement. A living piece of history has surfaced, and his story will mean so much to so many.”

“I know,” Terna said, still smiling. “But he has been without word of his own mate for too long already.”

“Right,” Mirdanna said. “Of course. I am so sorry.”

I sipped my glass of tequila and smiled at her gently.

“Oh, well, I’m afraid the news is not pleasant. She has passed, I am sorry to report,” she said. “But she had a long life and bore children who are still alive today.”

“I saw a mural,” I told her. “In Prescott, under a bridge on the outskirts. It showed her fighting against BlueCleave soldiers.”

Mirdanna nodded. “Yes, so many have had to. Molls, from all the records available, could not accept Silken Sand’s official statements about your death. She became insistent toward leadership at the time, especially Axle, and eventually that formed into hostility.”

A small smile touched my lips as I looked down into my glass. “That’s my girl,” I whispered to myself, though the ring of sorrow sounded through me, and light wetness came to my eyes.

“After she was declared an enemy of Silken Sands, the fighting became much more intense. She tried to hide off-world, but kept running into patrols and bringing down soldiers and starfish troopers on those who would shelter her,” Mirdanna explained. “After a few instances of small colonies suffering for her presence, she became significantly more violent. At that point, she started attacking military outposts across the multiverse, which helped her fund and equip a small resistance cell that Silken Sands named terrorists.”

“The basis of our own resistance today,” Terna interjected.

“Indeed, we owe a great deal to Molls, and her refusal to accept Silken Sands lies,” Mirdanna continued. "With her own starfish suit, and apparent access to stat shots, she was a formidable opponent. Besting even other enhanced agents in the field with regularity, her rebel army became a true threat to Silken Sands growing hegemony.”

“How did she come to live in peace at the end?” I asked.

“One of her dearest companions, a Nu-Earth canine with enhancements of his own, was killed in the fighting. After that, it is said that her spirit broke. She is documented as often referring to the dog as her last remaining link to you,” Mirdanna said. “His identity is lost, unfortunately. We have no record of the dog’s actual name. He is only referred to as the Battle Hound.”

“Doofus,” I said, thicker tears threatening as my throat constricted. “His name was Doofus. He was a good, handsome, smart boy.”

“Oh my,” the Knowle woman said, as she opened her notebook again. “Again, I thank you for filling in the gaps in our collective knowledge.”

I took a shaky breath and then nodded. “Please, continue.”

“Of course. After the death of Doofus, during a particularly damaging fight against a BlueCleave installation in the Nahgah Prime system, where many of her fighters were lost, she negotiated a deal with Silken Sands,” Mirdanna explained. “The installation she had captured was of tremendous military value, and she used it to negotiate a full pardon for herself and those of her cell who still lived. Once issued, her remaining team quickly publicized the event and that forced Silken Sands to honor the pardon.”

“It helped that the entire multiverse sided with her during the fighting. She was an incredibly popular figure, and still is, as you’ve seen in Prescott,” Terna added. She leaned on the bar with her arms crossed, listening to the recounting of Molls’ story.

“Indeed,” said Mirdanna. “Her attacks were terribly public, once she rose to ‘terrorist’ status, and public support for her grew with each news cycle. It also fell for Axle and Silken Sands. The fact that she killed BlueCleave’ highest ranking admiral at the time helped her negotiations. The fleet was immediately crippled without Omen’s leadership. He was the only person who could stand to her resistance fighters.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Well now, that is interesting,” I said. “Admiral Omen was the one who betrayed me to my ‘death.’”

“He did?” Mirdanna exclaimed, quickly making a note in her book again. “That brings a whole new context to Molls’ rebellion, and her final victory against the affiliate. If she knew, that would change history as we all know it.”

I nodded and bit my lip for a long moment. Then I said, “I think she found out. The Molls I knew wasn’t a fighter. She would fight if the need arose, but she abhorred violence. Often tried to talk me out of it during the war. But if she had found out that Omen betrayed and killed me, I think that may have been enough to drive her to a war against the affiliate.”

“So it may not have been the death of her companions,” Mirdanna said. “She may have gotten her revenge and stopped at that.”

I nodded. “No way to really know for sure, but that would be my guess.”

“I came to enlighten you, but you have provided me with a world-changing perspective. Thank you so much, Warlord,” Mirdanna said.

I shook my head at that. “I’m not a warlord anymore. Just Tyson. I never really wanted to be a warlord. Feels good to be free of it.”

Terna nodded and pushed off from the counter. “That brings me to my thoughts about what to do next,” she said.

“I’m all ears,” I replied.

“Well, you may not like what I have to say,” she started. “I would like to put you on trial.”