“What the hell is wrong with him?” demanded Vic. Evie paced behind her scowling at anyone who went near her.

“I don’-”

“Bob. Fucking spill it. You know more than you’ve been letting on. All this metal in here…” snarled Evie as a nimbus of lightning crackled around her. Evie inside the stash was a real risk to Bob’s capabilities and she was just about irrational enough at the moment to do something rash.

John had been sat cross legged in the hold for two weeks. He would drink if a straw was put near his mouth but hadn’t eaten or slept since they’d come back aboard the Kipragtsek. He’d just stared at the wall with his otherworldly eyes, blinking once every hour or so.

“Ok. ok!” Bob raised his hands in submission. “I don’t know what he’s doing but I can see some of what his implant is doing. Don't fry my manufactorum!”

“And?” demanded Vic as the clone of the old tanker clammed up.

“It’s insane. He’s hacked it or something. It’s running programs, using language that I just don’t understand. It doesn’t make any sense but the longer I’ve looked at it… It starts to seem less insane. Like there’s a pattern there just out of reach. It makes my head hurt to think about it.”

“You don't have a real head, Bob. Is he in pain?” asked Evie as the lightning died down.

“Yes but he’s embraced it. It’s just background noise now according to his biometrics. He hardly seems to register it in his mind.”

“How do we stop him?” asked Vic.

“I don’t think we can. He’ll either achieve whatever he’s working on or quit,” replied Bob quietly.

“Or die!” snarled Evie. “We should drug him or something! Knock his old ass out and bring him into the stash.”

“The last time we went near him other than to give him the nutrient liquid he just blipped us away. I checked the logs on his implant, he knew what was happening. He’s hyper focused on whatever the hell he’s doing,” Bob shrugged. “If we try to interfere he’ll stop us, would be my guess.”

“What is he focused on?” Vic asked softly.

“It’s not of this world. The maths is contradictory, the rules are in defiance of reality,” Bob replied.

“He’s looking Outside? He said it hurt and was it frightening to look at. Why the hell would he suddenly want to stare at it for fucking weeks?”

“I don’t know Vic. I don’t even know if that’s what he’s doing. Maybe he had some kind of epiphany about his power and this is all related to his portals. I’m logging it all but I’ve had to burn two server-Bobs that went mental from trying to suss it out.”

“Dad’s lots of things, most of them good, but he’s never been a bloody genius. Now he’s doing maths that a server farm of you’s can’t suss out? We’ve got to stop him!” snarled Evie.

***

John was conscious of the conversation inside the stash. He was conscious of all the conversations aboard the ship on some level. The only conversation he was interested in was the one with the Rhombus. It didn’t have a name, or even a concept of a name. It existed outside of reality as a middling predator. It fled from more powerful concepts and consumed the weaker ones. Time had no meaning to it and it didn’t communicate with speech or even telepathy. Back before he’d been chipped he’d had other people invade his mind and manipulate his reality. Talking to Rhombus was like that. He lived a timeless aeon as a tiny fragment drifting through the Outside. Hunter and hunted in an endless loop that happened all at once. There was no fate, no time. It felt like when he had died and met the gods all those years ago.

The clouds of gold and black had appeared but had always been there at the same time. Rhombus’ life story was a constant self contradiction. It was still that tiny fragment that had begun a great migration across a space without distance and it was also the mighty concept that would one day, and already had been, be consumed by an even greater presence.

This mid stage form was the only way John could perceive it. The true state of the thing, babe and titan simultaneously would melt his mind away to madness. But John was learning. The pain had been tremendous at the beginning. His body hadn’t twitched but his nerves had burned. Eventually the pain switched from being a physical thing and it became somehow spiritual. Despite his lack of faith he felt like something outside of his material world, some part of him that had always been invisible, was being strained and its complaints were the worst type of pain imaginable.

He had suffered through it. Shunted it to one side as he fought back to retake control of his mind. As he came back to himself he began recording and trying to translate his experience of “speaking” with Rhombus. He began to understand how his power really worked. He began to get a glimmer of how all power really worked.

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It all came from Outside. The swirling, inchoate chaos of this dimension beyond reality was the source of the Void and the Light. Essence was… soul fragments wasn’t quite the right phrase. It was more like a material form of the tiny fragment of a concept that Rhombus had been and still was. The power that drove the ship through the Outside was a trapped concept, a being like Rhombus, ripped from the Outside and into the material universe.

He could see the way to use the Outside. He could elevate his strength or that of his allies as easily as he could cut others off from the source of their power, leaving them helpless. He just needed to understand a little more! If he could grasp the fundamentals of the Outside, the roiling Chaos of infinite possibility he would be unstoppable.

***

Back on Earth, War stood on his golden cloud and scowled down at Magic’s flying island. A craggy landscape a kilometre across that floated above a vast amber ring of power. Smaller golden circles and multicoloured geometric shapes moved languidly within the ring that held Magic’s kingdom in the air.

It was hovering over what had once been Ghana as Magic dealt with an uprising among the coastal settlements. Magic was sending down waves of power that selectively interacted with whatever was below his floating fortress. Some people were crushed to paste while others simply lay down, unable to move under magic’s influence.

“What the hell are you doing Magic?” War demanded aloud despite hovering alone in the sky.

“Suppressing a rebellion. These mortals would ruin themselves fighting each other rather than becoming what they could be. Such a shame to waste their potential, don't you think?” Magic's voice came from all around the fat man.

“Enough of your shit. We know you’re a bit mad but you usually keep it under wraps. Mostly. Why have you summoned me here? Why not just tell me with teamchat?”

“Some things cannot be mentioned. Certainly not things that should not be scried. Oh no. Come, I have a safe space where we can talk freely. Your thoughts are safe but you cannot ever speak them aloud, oh no no no.” A pink portal appeared in front of War who crossed his massive arms and blew out his moustache.

“No way am I going in there without some kind of explanation,” he said firmly.

Magic dropped his illusions and War narrowed his eyes at the remnant of a man, shabby rags hanging over his ruined half-body, as he showed himself between the portal and War.

"No tricks. But no truth. Not here. Perhaps you need a revelation as well? Hmm… what kind of apocalypse would be right for you?” mumbled Magic.

“Apocalypse?” War tensed slightly and Magic started cackling.

“No threat. No need to treat you. The truth is all the morsel you need! But not here, old friend. Are we so far gone that no trust exists?” Magic became serious, sounding almost sane at the end of his little speech.

The Monarchs had drifted apart over the years since their return. War had deep concerns about Liberty and Death but Magic was at the top of his list when it came to potential problem children from their little band of survivors. He was a simple man who fought with his fists and feet. War had no understanding of what Magic was capable of beyond the various spells and tricks he’d witnessed over their years together.

The injuries that had turned Magic into a floating half-corpse had hurt the man's mind as well. As they had levelled up Magic had become increasingly strange but after his wounds he had become ever more deranged. War paused and considered for a moment. He couldn’t think of a time that Magic had genuinely worked against their goal of securing earth against the coming invasion. He had his own methods and plans, many of which War was certain were kept very close to what was left of the man's chest. But his old friend had never acted to endanger their mission.

With a sigh War uncrossed his arms and nodded once before striding forward and into Magic’s portal. On the other side he blinked and closed his eyes.

“What the fuck is this place?” he demanded. The distant walls roiled with fractal shapes in various shades of pinks and blue. Like a lava lamp the shapes merged and separated before coming back together once more. He opened his eyes and squinted down at the ground.

“Welcome to my little pocket of reality. Not many have seen this place. And none of them have survived the experience,” said Magic, now sounding completely sane. His voice was flat and emotionless.

War tensed again but Magic flashed a rictus grin at him before cloaking himself in an illusion. His old friend appeared as he had been. Aged and wrinkled with long grey-white hair pulled back into a ponytail, Magic leant on a long staff that was propped on thin air.

“Come. I’ll explain my plans, at least as much as I am able to. He’s seeing things beyond even my sight. If he lives then we’ve won. Well, if he’s still sane then we’ve won.”

“Who?” demanded War as his cloud drifted down to the ground.

“Come.” Magic said curtly and led the big man into a long hall through a baroque doorway. Inside War flinched. There were specimens in tubes lining all the walls. Most were animals but there were a number of humans. They all had their eyes mutilated. “It took me years. I got the idea when I was injured. Well something told me anyway. Since then I’ve been trying to get back in touch. To return a call that was cut off too soon, if you like.”

War continued walking behind his teammate, grimacing at the increasingly complex mutilations on the specimens.

“So I came up with the idea. Or it was given. I’m sorry, I’ve dreamed of explaining this for years and now that it’s time to explain it to my oldest friend I find I don’t know the words. These were the first experiments. It needed a particular type of soul and a particular power and a special alteration.” Magic said in a sudden rush before slowing back down to a flat drawl. “I needed to see so they needed to see. So I improved their eyes! I gradually refined the spell. Using it against itself was the trick! Matter becomes translucent and reality is transcended!”

“What have you done?” asked War in a cold voice as more and more humans and intelligent aliens they had fought during their long journey off world were revealed, floating in preservatives.

“Young John has used the eyes I gave him properly at last. I’m surprised it took him this long to work it out. He’s seeing Outside. He’s seeing Chaos. If he survives, and if he is still sane, then he will be our greatest weapon against the false gods.” Magic smiled a dead smile that made War’s skin crawl.