They’d only gotten 4 hours of uninterrupted work done before the bright flash of lights caused by the warring titans lit up the sky.
Initially eager to examine the shield’s inner workings, Hunter gave up after a fruitless half-hour of observation and analysis. He could not discern the logic for the way the etherium flowed, flashing and pulsing from glyph to glyph, multiple glyphs activating at the same time.
If any of these glyphs manifested the shield, how were they keeping the shield active when the glyphs were being rapidly turned on and off? The fluctuation should be noticeable in the shield itself, but it wasn’t. The shield was as solid as ever.
He couldn’t wrap his head around it. None of his experience with the Force glyphs and all the ways he’d stretched its use could shed a light on this type of shield construct. As far as he could tell, the Asutnahem understanding of etherium and building constructs must eclipse his own. To the Asutnahem, Hunter was like a caveman, learning how to wield fire by waiting for lightning to strike a tree.
It pained him to admit that his understanding could be shallow, but what else could explain this?
He was a monkey who’d figured out how to crack things open with blunt objects, trying to glean the principles used to build a laptop computer. There might have been entire paradigms and philosophies of design and progress that he would need as context before he could grasp all the juicy details about how this shield construct worked.
However, it wasn’t all bad news.
Apparently, the hard-wired connection had stood the test of time. It was easy to figure out how etherium was being led to and from the construct. That was all up to Oberon Enterprises’ specifications. He figured that if he couldn’t optimize the shield itself, he could do his best to optimize how Oberon Enterprise’s artisans had interfaced the shield with the ship’s etheric networks.
For 3 and a half hours, Hunter, with the help of a few burly Guardsmen, tore the shield room apart. He had some custom wires created out of whatever they could find. They transferred most of the supplies to the outpost a few days ago.
A complete teardown and rebuild had never been a part of the plan.
But they would have to adapt. The captain’s idea might be their best chance at giving them the opportunity they needed to ensure their future on Skyhold. He just needed to make sure that they could do it with such a limited supply of manpower.
Three or more people with an AR over 80 were meant to operate the shield. The Guardsman they’d found to volunteer, Jefferson, had an AR of 82. The Captain’s AR was in the low 60s. And Hunter hadn’t checked himself since before they’d crash-landed. As far as he was aware, his AR was still 49, but he could have experienced some more rapid growth after the strange etheric episode he experienced at the outpost.
He had no way to know, just then. To err on the side of caution, he assumed it remained unchanged from before.
He scrapped some networks which would have only minor adverse effects of the etherium being fed to the shield. It wouldn’t make much of a difference, but he figured it was the best he could do. Then, looking again at the shield, an idea struck him.
If he couldn’t optimize the shield construct, he could maximize the efficiency of the little power they supplied to it. Not an easy feat. But he had a breakthrough when he realized that the shield somehow amplified the charge of the etherium when it entered the construct. He thought it must be some sort of subtle field effect, which spoke of a pretty interesting syntax within the construct itself. It was one of two points of similarity he had found between his understanding of etherium and constructs, and the Asutnahem’s.
Like modern day artisans, the Asutnahem would probably use networks within networks. Like the ship itself. As far as Hunter could tell, the shield was just as complex as the ship, only countless times more advanced and efficient.
So Hunter took some time to focus in on feeling what the input port was doing to the etherium. Hunter couldn’t fully sense the complex etherium charges feeding the construct, but recognized some familiar aspects.
To activate the shield, he took calculated risks, brute-forcing it with small constructs. Each construct had a unique charged output corresponding to his emotions. He also fed a certain amount of ‘uncharged’ etherium to the shield. Some charge ratios failed to activate the shield. Others offered only brief activation, while a select few provided sustained, albeit less efficient, operation.
Of the 5 different configurations he used, he chose one which seemed to work the best, and created 3 more, with minor alterations in glyph size and placement. He chose the alteration which came closest to what he’d been aiming for.
It improved the strength of the shield without increasing the amount of etherium being fed to it. The effect was nowhere near as dramatic as the synergies he’d developed for more mainstream constructs, though. At a conservative estimate, he’d improved the strength of the shield by around 1/10th of what they’d been getting out of it until now.
All without having to go into the construct itself. It might have been lacklustre, but he was proud of the accomplishment.
By his estimation, it should be enough. Hopefully, they wouldn’t need to keep the shield activated for long.
Only as long as it took to finish the job they’d set out to do.
4 hours after entering the ship, the Captain summoned Hunter to the bridge. To Hunter’s surprise, he found someone else there. A young woman who he recognized from the few times he’d been on the bridge over the last year. If his guess was correct, her official designation was that of a navigator.
“How’s the shield looking?” the captain asked. Hunter filled him in on the basics, leaving out all the experimentation and frustration it took to create such a negligible result.
“It’ll be enough,” the captain said. “It has to be.”
“Any word from the Ambition?” Hunter asked, “How’s the evacuation going?”
“I just received a ping from the Ambition. Mr. Oberon is there with your sister. Knowing him, he waited until the last second to leave. It’s safe to assume the outpost is clear.”
Hunter nodded.
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“How’d that conversation go?”
“It didn’t go,” the captain said. His smile was flat, but some amusement seemed to touch his eyes. “I’m sure they’re frustrated, maybe even confused. This sort of stunt is out of character for me.”
“What’s changed?” Hunter asked, “Why not evacuate with everyone else? It’s not a terrible plan.”
“We don’t have a back-up plan, Hunter. This is it,” he said, hesitating for only a second before he answered.
“We’d think of something. Once the rest of the fleet arrives, we’ll just bombard it from a great height,” Hunter said.
The captain had been holding his tablet in his hands, and he spent some time navigating it before he gave it to Hunter.
“Watch this,” he said.
It was a brief video clip, only a few seconds long.
It was footage of the initial engagement between the A-Classes. The creatures themselves couldn’t be seen directly but their attacks could be seen from miles away.
He saw a beam shot off into the sky, seemingly endless in its length. Blue and purple glows flashing across the horizon. It reminded him of something out of a movie, where a war was being waged in the distance.
The energy beam was troubling.
“The rest of the fleet doesn’t have our shield, Hunter,” the captain said.
“They’d be vulnerable,” Hunter said, pursing his lips.
The captain nodded.
“Our losses probably wouldn’t be catastrophic, but all it would take is one well-placed shot from that thing to take out one or two ships. That could mean thousands dead if it hits a converted cargo haulers acting as colony ships.”
What more could Hunter say?
It made the captain’s plan even more pressing.
“There’s no way Trey would sign off on the plan,” Hunter said.
“He would, eventually. But with everything going on, we don’t have time to meet and debate the merits of one contingency over another. Something tells me that even if he can’t officially sign off on it, part of him would approve.”
“Sir,” the navigator said, “the systems are as ready as we can make them. I’m ready to takeoff on your order.”
“Very well,” the captain said. “It’s only a matter of timing at this point. I know that we’ve left one more surprise at the outpost for the Guardian, in case it survives its fight with the other A-Class. It might turn out that our little plan isn’t necessary.”
“Let’s hope,” Hunter said, wishing he had a way to view the fight between the two creatures. The small sample he’d gotten from the tablet made him feel an itch to get out on a shuttle and orbit the fight from a distance.
Captain Gregor’s intuition seemed to kick in, as he guessed Hunter’s thought process.
“I’m sure that once all of this is finally over, there will be plenty of data to dive into. I doubt it will satiate your ravenous curiosity, but you’ll have footage and maybe even direct access to some A-Class autopsies.”
Hunter nodded, doing his best to suppress the excitement threatening to bubble up. Most of his work here was done, but he still felt it appropriate to keep a level head.
“How are you feeling, by the way?” the captain asked.
Hunter took a personal inventory, noticing that not much has changed over the last couple of hours.
“Aside from some residual soreness, I feel fine,” he said, still somewhat astonished by what had happened to him. He remembered little of what happened after the Class-1 broke through the wall. But he remembered certain impressions about the power itself.
Deep. Profound. Intentful.
And, despite its apparent lethality, it was compassionate. The way it cared for him after it was done—what, piloting him? The energy that had pulsed through him was something he couldn’t explain. He could barely even feel it. He could see its effects, but it appeared to operate on a principle that was just as profound as the Asutnahem shield, if not more so.
More questions. No way to get answers. He hoped everything worked out the way they hoped it would, and that they’d be able to negotiate some expertise from Sabletown.
“Good. Have you got any idea about what happened?”
“I can tell you about what I felt leading up to it, but I can’t tell you anything concrete about how I did it. I don’t know if I’ll be able to replicate that, either. It was surreal, like something else was working through me.”
The captain inhaled slowly. His jaw clenched.
“I know how it sounds,” Hunter said. He’d be worried as well, if he were in their shoes. Especially after what they’d learned about the parasite. “But it wasn’t like I was no longer myself. I was still there.”
He was only half sure of his words. He was troubled by his memory loss. Before the loss, however, he remembered everything about his first Class-1 encounter just beyond the wall, including a sense of his etheric system activating in response to the creature’s.
“I’m sure people will have a lot of questions for you once this is all over.”
“Yeah, not sure how much it’ll matter if they have questions. The destruction of the outpost walls means we will have to do more work for the colony than we’d planned. And if the guardian avatar does any more damage, that workload is just going to increase.”
“But it won’t be as bad as you think,” the captain said. “If Clarke was right, then this could end the beast waves for good. Aside from the odd Class-1, there’s no reason to think that we’ll have any serious trouble with establishing ourselves on Skyhold.”
Hunter nodded.
“That’s true. And I hope you’re right. It’ll be nice to ease off the gas pedal. It feels like we’ve been going full throttle for a decade.”
The captain grabbed Hunter’s shoulder.
“You’ve made me a believer, Hunter. I’m certain the company is in great hands with you and Aera leading the way. I admire Trey, and may he live long and prosper. But the courage, dedication and creativity you’ve both displayed during this crisis have been inspiring. We’re all feeling the burn. Not a single person has escaped the endless grind that this world has demanded of us since we’ve entered its sky. But the finish line is in sight.”
Hunter clenched his fists. A mild warmth suffused his chest.
Soon, they’d be done with the guardian avatar, the parasite, and the beastwaves altogether.
They would finally have some time to rest, plan, and build.
“Again, great work. I’m going to need you in the shield room once this all kicks off.”
“If it kicks off,” Hunter corrected.
“Right. If it kicks off, I’ll need you ready to act at a moment’s notice. So stay near the shield room. That’s an order.”
Hunter saluted. His reflex was in the spirit of irony, but the feeling of genuine respect was impossible to deny. The captain dismissed him, and Hunter returned to the shield room with a reinvigorated spirit — a feeling which had been absent for days.
The finish line is in sight, Hunter mused. It felt good to believe again.
----------------------------------------
Guard-Lieutenant Shane Richards cursed as the shuttle shook around him.
“It’s gonna fall apart,” he said. His copilot, Guardsman Jennifer Sanders, elected to stay silent. She knew better than to question Shane’s anxious pessimism after having flown over a dozen missions together.
“Ready for approach,” she said.
“Copy,” he sighed, “approaching the A-Classes.”
He transmitted their readiness back to the Ambition.
“Nothing too fancy, Lieutenant,” came Trey Oberon’s voice. That the big boss was going to be overseeing this impromptu scouting mission was enough to make his hands sweat. Ask him to thread the needle with life and death stakes any day of the week and he’d be ready to volunteer. But to do it with senior management watching his every move?
No thanks. That’s pure nightmare fuel. You can’t spell ‘hell’ without ‘bureaucracy.’
Granted, Trey Obeon wasn’t so bad. At least, that’s what he had heard. But you don’t make a successful corporation without your fair share of oversight. Middle managers managing other middle managers. Politics. Red tape.
He sighed again, and could almost feel the palpable annoyance radiating off of his flight partner.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, crewman,” he said.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir. I was rolling my eyes at the window.”
“Smartass,” he grumbled.
“Affirmative,” she said.
“Woah!” he said, and the ship rumbled as a beam of bright azure light manifested beside the shuttle. He pushed the starboard thrusters as hard as he could and then pulled the shuttle higher into the sky.
“What the hell? These things shoot laser beams?!” he yelled.
“Focusing cameras,” Sanders said.
They could see the source of the beam of destruction, which had just barely missed them. It was a giant. Something between an ape and a lizard, standing hundreds of meters tall, concentrated energy emitting from its mouth. Then there was the other A-Class, the one which had ended a beastwave after flexing its power.
The Jellyfish.
It floated above its foe, dodging left and right at a speed that blew his mind.
“Recording,” Sanders said. Shane grit his teeth and kept the shuttle’s flight as smooth as he could.