There wasn’t a force in all the Heavens or any of the Hells that could get Gabriel to stay in one of the Aegis’ regular rooms again, and he opted instead to rough-it on Maeve instead. A compartment at the back of the skiff was stocked with some blankets and a rudimentary pillow, and he set himself up in the pilot’s seat, and leaned way back in it. He stared up at the solid interior of the forward shell, where the windshield would be if he hadn’t had it hidden, and flicked his overlay forward to appear on the main-screen.

“Gabriel Lugios, Vice Eidolon of the Fourth Wing…camping-out in a chair, with nothing better to do but watch television dramas.” He criticized himself, “…At least Rylen let me keep my access. This’d be a really boring night otherwise.”

.

The First had plenty to do that precluded him from enjoying such trivial pursuits, and he regaled his fellow Eidolon with the footage of the misbegotten assault. Every P.O.V., the fully-compiled timeline and movement-map, the order of death, and – most importantly – the utter lack of a record for whatever Ren had seen and done last.

“They heard the damn thing shriek, but it was already gone by the time they found where it had dragged her.” Rylen grumbled, arms crossed as he looked up at the displays hovering above his desk. He looked to his brother, “I’m still trying to decide if I want to issue a disciplinary action against her for taking her helmet off.”

“Wait a little while if you do end up reprimanding her.” Xanarken answered, “At least until after their bereavement leave. She walked into an all-out Fafnir genocide.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“She’s definitely a force to be reckoned with.” The Fourth continued, “I know that being the target of its aims meant she stood less of a chance of being hit, but…still. It came at her like it did the others, and she managed to fend it off anyway.”

“I’m still baffled by how quickly it was able to reshape those Magi corpses. Fusing them together like that, manufacturing those bug-parts from its face, then turning the whole head into a deer-skull…? Where did it even get the idea?”

“Go back to the footage from the specimen-room, when it broke in with Ianori.” Xanarken said, and Rylen did as bid. Soon enough, the visuals of that demonic, bat-winged figure came into view through the dust of its initial arrival, “Look at how it changed your soldier, compared to what it did with the Magi. The possibilities for explaining it are endless…but the first thing that comes to mind for me, at least, is the fact that Ianori was alive – even if barely – while the Magi were not. Maybe part of why it came all this way to get to them was because using dead afflicted was better than using a half-dead regular guy. Using a Fafnir as a host, its body reshaped to look like a Fafnir. That wing-style is the same he used on his armor, right?”

“Yeah, technically.”

“But then when it drew itself out of him and into the Magi instead…it was able to form whatever it wanted of itself, and changed it on the fly to suit the need of the moment.” Xanarken surmised, “Plus, seeing how fast it was able to change its body once it had them… It’s been weeks since it took Ianori. Maybe it took all that time just to shape it into what we saw.”

“Maybe.”

“Are you going to have Seth look into it?”

“I think he’s probably had enough of the topic.” Rylen answered, and shut the displays down. He suddenly looked rather dour, “I want someone to meet with him specifically, one-on-one, and help him work through all this. These people who died were like family to him, and it all started with a mission he managed. I can see it in his face; he feels like he’s responsible for what happened. I need him to know that it’s not his fault, hopefully before he tells anyone he thinks that way.”

Xanarken looked at the First carefully, but gave a nod, “Of course.”

Rylen stood there in relative quiet after that, his mind fuzzy with exhaustion and unyielding thoughts. He let out a sigh, and started to slouch, only for his mantle to dissolve and reshape itself into that orange-eyed Russian Blue he’d stalked Ren with in Trazad. There was no grace about the way he just dropped shoulder-first onto his left side, and laid there – prone – on the floor of his office, staring vacantly at the bottom of his desk.

The Fourth gave a sympathetic look, and crouched down to sit cross-legged beside the cat. He reached forward to rub behind its shoulders, “I can’t even conceptualize how this all must feel for you right now. The Fafnir have been your baby for so long… To lose so many of them like this, in a single afternoon…”

“I owe all my thanks to the System for giving me the ability to reduce the sensitivity of my emotive displays.” Rylen answered, voice heard even if that feline mouth didn’t move, “People would probably think I’m certifiable if they could see how I feel right now.”

“Yeah, I bet…”

“I don’t even know what I’m going to do.” The First continued, and lifted its right paw to wrap around its face, “How do I recruit to refill the ranks? Nearly the whole team got wiped out, and I can’t even give a good reason why. Anyone who knows anything about this unit knows that they’d be perfectly fine if all that happened was a building collapsing on them. How do I explain why the Aegis is melted? Why I blew-up a whole facility with friendly-fire? Even if I told the truth, saying so would probably sound even more unbelievable than the cover-up.”

“It would be an easy thing to blame an unusually-powerful Limitless threat. You wouldn’t even be wrong, in that case.” Xanarken suggested, and continued that slow rub against those shoulder-blades, “The way the afflicted react around it…there must be some connection.”

Rylen fell silent for a little while, but then relaxed that paw and lifted his cat-head up to look at the Fourth, “What if that abyss through the rift is the source of the afflicted’s abilities? That the way the Limitless manifests in people is just…I dunno, like they’re a lens through which that void is focused. Maybe that’s why Caeros was able to…”

Xanarken’s massage slowed, and he pulled his hand back. Elbows went down to his knees and he set his chin across his threaded fingers, “…Maybe.”

“If I knew that would happen, I would’ve never pushed him so hard.” Rylen said grimly, and flopped back down again, “But I thought void gates were just a myth back then. Ignorance truly is bliss…”

“The pendulum swings both ways. What you didn’t know back then, turns into lessons to learn from now.” Xanarken supposed, and lowered his hands into a relaxed posture, “And if Seth hasn’t been completely put off of the topic at this point, maybe his efforts will bear fruit that can be used to protect the next generation of Fafnir. You’ve always been very conservative with the way you handle the afflicted in your ranks. Maybe it’s time to let them open up a little, and have their limits tested.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“…No…”

“No? Still? After everything that just happened?” The Fourth was stunned, “Surely the S.D. Helmets aren’t going to be the sole defense mechanism you allow the Inquisition to develop.”

“If pushing Caeros past his limits opened those void gates…maybe the threshold for disaster is much lower for those less gifted.” Rylen answered, and rolled to turn onto his other side, putting his back to his brother, “I already won’t forgive myself for what I encouraged to happen back then. I couldn’t do it again, knowing what might happen.”

“Oh Rylen… Maybe I should bring a mediator in to talk to you about managing self-blame. Caeros led you to believe that what he was doing was easy. It was as much a shock to him as it was to the rest of us when all those rifts opened.”

“…If you say so.”

Xanarken quirked a brow, “…About which part?”

“The latter.”

“Ah…”

“…I’m gonna go to sleep.” The First then said, “The Bulwark should be here by morning, and we’ll start trying to salvage whatever’s left to be found in the water-pit. I’ll probably have Captain Rydell remote-pilot his armor down there to see whatever he can see. I don’t think the First has any drones capable of lifting whatever’s left of those Knights.”

“Alright. …You know how to find me if you need anything. And try to at least open-up communications between the Eidolon later. This lockdown was a massive pain in my ass all day.”

.

Seth had been given enough blankets and pillows to fashion a proper nest on his brother’s couch, and had worn himself out in his grief. In the bedroom, Furion had made a nest of his own, so he could sleep at an incline – or at least try to. Though his eyes were closed, every breath was enough of a jolt to half-rouse him again, and his attempts at sleep were largely restless. Beside him, curled-up towards him with her face squished into the pillow-pile, was Ren, out cold.

Eyelids flickered in that fitful unconsciousness. The cries and desperate pleading from her friends echoed in her head like so many nightmares. And the whispers behind them all – each of those voices begging for help, screaming in pain, and dying in agony before falling silent – was like a sinister foundation to the intense guilt she felt. For being late, for living…for not even being hurt, while all the rest of them suffered such cruel fates. The whispers seemed to get louder with each of the fallen, until, at the last, it seemed to yell at her directly.

“REN!”

She yelped and startled herself awake with a visceral twitch. She could feel Furion stirring beside her, and she pushed up to sit and tried to lull the man back to sleep, “Sorry, sorry…shhh…”

“All good.” He feigned through grit teeth.

Ren sighed to herself, “I’m gonna get some water…” She said quietly, and moved to pull her legs out from under the blankets. She could hear her partner grumble-mumble a tired acknowledgement, and she set her feet to the soft floor. In the pitch-dark of the room, she had to fumble her way through to the doorway she knew should be there, hand swaying in the black air ahead of her until her fingertips felt the solid wall. In she went through that open door, and she closed it quietly behind herself before feeling-up the next wall in search of a light-switch.

And when she found it, she took one look at the 2” of pure white coming out of the roots of her hair…and screamed.

Furion heard that and the sound of violent thud from the next room, and he quickly threw the blankets off to go find the woman. Broken ribs be damned, he was getting through that door. He heard Seth rousing in the front room as well, asking what was going on, but he quickly told him to stay where he was, and the teen nervously obeyed. Furion banged on the door, “Ren, open it up!”

The sound of her scrambling and panicking within was easy to hear that close to the panel, but she wasn’t making any obvious attempt at unlocking it. Furion fumbled for the door-lock on the outside, and when he finally found it, he was blinded briefly by the sudden shine of light – even at only half-brightness – as he looked into the room. Disoriented, he clenched his eyes shut and squinted tightly in an attempt to see, opening them a little more at a time as he finally got his wits about him again. He found Ren sitting on the floor, looking like she’d seen a ghost – pale and shaking – and he went down on a knee beside her.

“Ren, what the Hell happened?” He asked worriedly, noticing the hand-towel bar broken where she’d flung herself into it.

Ren’s overlay still had the hair-augment app open, displaying the dark black color she’d hastily selected. Her eyes trembled and she had a hard time closing it, barely able to accept that the visual had applied at all, but for the fact that Furion hadn’t mentioned seeing the difference. She finally managed to look at the man, and scrambled to reach her nearest hand towards him.

He quickly clasped it, and pulled her arm over his shoulder to bring her closer, and hugged his own arms around her. She immediately started crying against his bare skin, all over again, and he offered what trivial comfort he could, given the circumstances, “It’s okay…”

Seth was relieved to hear things settling down, but his heart hurt all the more for it.

.

Ren was a full-on zombie the next morning, but in spite of it, she still insisted on being there when Furion handed Bianca over to her fate. She kept her distance in the hangar – standing back by Ravan, Corbin, and Jense – and watched in disappointed, anxious quiet as the first-year was brought out.

A Knight genetically-engineered to be faster and stronger than any normal human couldn’t simply be restrained by the manacles of the common person. Arms were sealed at Bianca’s sides, her knees and ankles bound together, and for good measure, an S.D. helmet was set overtop, ensuring that her transport back to Agartha would go smoothly. She’d been stripped of all uniform-colors, and was dressed in just a simple tan-colored jumpsuit.

Gabriel nervously watched as the deserter was hoisted onto his skiff and settled into one of the passenger seats, and another officer of the Aegis boarded after to help with the escort. He looked to Furion – who was just ashamed of the whole thing – then to Rylen – who shook his head in disappointment. Eyes then drifted to the back wall, where the little cloister of Fafnir – all that was left – watched in disbelief at the whole sight. While things were finishing up, Gabriel stepped aside to approach them, only to be stunned by the fact of Ren twitching at the sight of him.

She seemed almost afraid of him.

“Ren?”

Whether she heard him or not was a mystery, but she bowed her head and quickly left the hangar. Ravan was just as confused as Gabriel was, and gestured out to him that she’d figure out what was going on. Not that it would help in that moment, given he was about to leave. Ravan passed in front of the last duo, and Corbin – with a long sigh and a shake of his head – let go of the dreadlock he’d been fiddling-with and stepped off as well. Jense, as usual, could only gesture an apology to whoever was watching, and took off after his colleague.

That just left Gabriel standing there feeling really dumb. He wasn’t allowed to linger for long though, when both the Captain and the First came back to get his attention.

“It’s done.” Rylen said simply, “I know you didn’t volunteer for this but I appreciate it anyway.”

“…Sure.”

Furion manifested a data-nodule above his palms, and offered it forward, “Lord Gabriel; give this case-file to the hand-off team. They’ll take her off your hands from the landing-tower.”

He lifted his hand, hesitated, then reached again to accept the glowing node. He wasn’t sure if he should look at the man, so he kept his eyes down, I wonder if he said something to her about me being in her room yesterday…? Why else would she have looked at me like that?

“Better get moving.” Rylen added, getting the Vice’s attention back with a start, “You’re on a schedule. Any deviation from the timeline and the Sixth will send people after you.”

“I’ll get her there, don’t worry.” Gabriel answered simply, and moved off to get onto his skiff. The sight of those two unusual passengers was enough to make him uneasy already, but having to get into the pilot’s seat with the image of Ren’s fearful visage in his head had made his stomach turn. Nauseating knots coiled in his gut, but he got on with it anyway, and clicked for the side-door to close. Maeve lifted-off the hangar-bay floor, and made its way out.

The pair watched until the little red skiff was out of sight, and Rylen turned to his Captain, “Time to get to it, then. Frustrating as it is to have lost so many, and to lose one more to her own poor choices, we still have work to do.”

“Yessir…”

Rylen only just-then noticed that the other four Fafnir had already left, and huffed, “Guess they couldn’t stand to see it through.”

Furion wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he just stepped by and made his way towards the fast-travel chute leading to the upper level, “I’ll ready my armor and head up to the bridge, sir. If the Bulwark crew is set-up, I’ll join them shortly.”

“I’ll meet you down below.”

“Yessir.”