"The earth is only capable of supporting 5 million humans, any more is a blight upon Mother Earth. No more will patriarchy artificially control mankind and rape mother earth, we shall return to matriarchy that is in touch with our Mother Earth as the castles and fortresses of old fall. The coming death toll is mankind's punishment for the disfiguring and rape of our Mother. We are not doing this to you, you have done it to yourself. All of Nature will turn against you, for you will reap what you have sown." - Paragraph 7, Page 432 of 2641 of the electronically transmitted and physical paper delivered Extinction Agenda Attack Manifesto

The plant-life rustled and shifted in the night. The moon, scarred now and marked with sparkling rippling pools of greenish-white light, stared down at the earth below. The Man in the Moon was scarred, almost unrecognizable, forever marked by the Mantid Attack.

There was a sharp crack as roots managed to snap away another thick slab of atomsite. The pressure changes made the cracked and rippled plain of greenish blue atomsite glass 'sing' in the night. High pitches squeals and squeaks, bass rumblings, and sharp cracks as the eighty mile wide glass settled and popped.

Less than a minute afterwards there was a rumble and the ground shook for nearly five seconds.

The earthquake had more to do with the aftershocks of the planetary bombardment than it did with the pressures in the glass equalizing, but the coincidence was often enough that many survivors equated correlation with causation.

The figure sitting on the upthrust chunk of atomsite, known to most as Lossglass, barely moved, riding out the rumble with the skill of long practice. He, and it was obviously a he, was one of those men who was made large by bone, sinew, and muscle. He was dressed in thick denim pants, a light t-shirt, a sportsball cap, and heavy military boots, a wedding ring on one finger, the ring and the finger both scarred and dented.

He was facing the jungle, staring across the twenty paces of broken up sand where the moss and fungus was hidden. Where hardy grasses peeked up from between the broken shards of glass. One hand was cupping his chin, the elbow on his knee, his right arm hung down, loose and relaxed.

A glowing figure made of streaming blue and white code left the jungle, the plants reacting slightly to the light, leaves turning to follow, some leaves going from the greasy yellow of dormancy to the bright green of full life.

It moved across the grass to the man on the chunk of Lossglass.

"I found someone I would like you to meet, my son," the glowing figure said.

The man just nodded, his face blank and unreadable. Heavy scarring covered his bald head, purple scarring on brown flesh, but the barcodes and gang tattoos were still obvious.

"Like you, he is bereft, cast into the tempest that is life within this universe," the glowing figure said, sitting down next to the man of flesh and bone. "He knows what you have gone through but he still wishes to see you."

"All right," the man said. His voice was a deep bass rumble, the vocal cords roughened by too much time in power armor, too much time screaming beneath a torturer's hand, too many bellows over the battlefield.

The glittering figure motioned, waited, the motioned again.

"He is worried you will step on him, although he is not afraid, for he knows he would die free," the glittering figure said.

The man of flesh and blood just nodded. He switched hands cupping his chin.

The glittering figure motioned again.

What left the edge of the jungle was a large insectoid, looking related to the common preying mantis, only with eight limbs, silently declaring that the insect was, in fact, and arachnoid. It was varying shades of green and had a tiny tool belt on its upper thorax.

The man of flesh, blood, and chrome could see that the tool belt held a hatchet and other such tools useful to someone surviving away from the vast domed or walled cities.

The little mantis delicately moved across the sand at an angle, then angled back, almost dancing.

It stopped in front of the man and the man watched as tiny little purple Jacob's Ladder of electricity moved up and down between the antenna.

"His name is the equation for the weak force that interacts with stellar and planetary bodies across interstellar distances," the being of code said.

"So, his name is Gravity," the man of flesh, blood, metal, mechanisms, and circuitry said.

That made the man of code laugh. "Well, yes, but he prefers the equation."

The man of flesh and bone nodded. He leaned down, holding out an index finger. "Daxin," he said.

The little mantis reached up with two hands and grabbed the tip of the finger, moving it up and down with the whine of a miscalibrated servo singing from the shoulder of the man of flesh and blood.

"Grav-It-Tee," the little Mantid said, obviously with some difficulty.

"My Eldest son, I feel pride in you for seeing beyond his species," the figure of code said.

"Yeah. Me and him have a few things in common," the man of flesh and blood said. He reached into a pocket, pulling out a small package, and tore it open. The smell of BBQ sauce and smoked meat puffed into the air. The man bent down and handed it to the little green mantis. "Here."

"Thank. You." the Mantid said. It said down and began munching on the contents of the snack pack.

"He was part of a strike force that got shot down the day the Queen was killed in MechaKrautland. The only survivor. He's been out there for six months," the being of code said. The being looked up at the sky.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

The man of flesh and blood nodded. "Yeah."

"Thank. You." the mantid said. His mandibles were smeared with BBQ sauce.

"It's fine," the man said.

"Will you permit him to look at your chrome, my son?" the being of code asked.

"It's not that I don't think you can help me, Father," the man said. "It just seems... like asking you to tie my shoes."

"It pains you, my son," the being said. "I would be happy to lift your pain."

"It's not that bad," the man said.

"Fix?" the mantid asked.

"I haven't been to a body shop in a couple years," the man said. "I was due for an overhaul when I jumped out of the Combine striker."

The mantid tapped its bladearms together.

"He says he can help you. It might take him some time to understand the code and circuitry, but he can help you, since you are loathe to have me help you," the being said. He rested one glittering hand on the man's shoulder. "I could fix it with but a touch, my son."

"No," the man said. He looked away. "I would not ask you to mop a floor, Father. This is not much more."

The being nodded. "As you feel, my son."

The man sighed and looked at the insect, who had put the wrapper away, saving it for later. It would make a good poncho for the rainy days.

"All right," the man bent down and pulled up his pant legs. He ran a finger down the muscle of his calf and the skin suddenly split and pulled back, revealing chrome. He tapped a flat disc and a panel opened up, revealing a handful of telltales and a data port.

The telltales were all red and amber.

"Go ahead," the man said.

The mantid moved up, thrusting a bladearm into the port.

Long moments passed, neither of the trio moving. A screamer-tree let everyone know it was ready to kill anything that came near it. There was the coughing sound of a fungal node blooming and throwing out a cloud of spores that could eat through endosteel.

"He says he now understands your systems. He says the mechanical parts are good, but you need calibration," the being said.

The man nodded.

"You'll need to do a few exercises so he can get baselines, my son," the being said.

The man sighed. "All right. Let's start," he said, standing up as the insect scurried back.

The moon stared down, the face disfigured, it's light shining down on the jungle and the Lossglass lake both.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Dax?" the voice pulled Daxin from a memory of long ago and far away.

Daxin blinked and gave a minute shake of his head to clear it, looking up from the table he was sitting at. Dhruv had sat down in a chair, a tray full of food in front of him.

"Back when Our Digital Father had Gravity give me a tune-up," Daxin said.

"That was a couple days before you found me, wasn't it?" Dhruv said.

Daxin nodded. "Yeah."

"Wow, Gravity. I haven't thought about him in centuries. The Mantid Apostle," Dhruv shook his head.

Daxin suddenly grinned. "Equations and poetry," he laughed suddenly. "Remember Matty carving Gravity's poem into that big rock by Lake Gimmegotcha?"

Dhruv nodded, smiling. "Didn't make sense to us, but man, the way it sounded reaching it out loud. Like it was a secret to the universe that Gravity had revealed to us."

Daxin chuckled. "You know, in a weird way, I miss Matty and Gravity both."

"Yeah, well, Gravity didn't betray us. He just died of old age. Greenies only lived about five or six years back then," Dhruv said. "Matthias the Second betrayed us."

Daxin nodded. "Yeah. Murdered Our Digital Father, framed you, led the Imperium to me when I went to see my daughter's grave at the DeeSee Ruins."

Dhruv pushed his tray away. "Suddenly I'm not hungry."

Daxin pushed the tray back. "Eat, Dhruv. It's over, I did for that Matty. I was thinking of Matthias the First."

Dhruv looked around, didn't see The Detainee, and sighed, picking the fork back up. "Remember how young he was when we found him?"

Daxin nodded. "Barely hanging on. Last of the 27th Centauri Lancers."

Dhruv looked around. "Wanna see something, Dax?" he asked intently.

Rolling his eyes, Daxin nodded. "Sure, show me," he leaned forward across the table. "It better not be your dick, Dhruv."

Dhruv smiled, looked around, and held out his palm. The built-in holo-emitter sparkled to life and thrw and image up.

A massive Combine Era warborg held a glowering Daxin in a side-arm bear-hug, The youthful Matthias in between them. The Digital Omnimessiah stood next to them, smiling. Bellona was just barely in the frame, sticking out her tongue, one hand raised with the fingers in V.

"You still have that?" Daxin asked. He reached forward and touched the hologram. He gave a long slow exhale. "It was before we found Kalki, wasn't it?"

"About a week," Dhruv admitted. He closed his hand, shutting off the holopic. "Want a copy?"

Daxin opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head, looking somewhat sad. "No. I'd rather remember us the way we were back then."

Dhruv nodded. "I used to look at that image, back when I was hiding from you and the others, after the Imperium planet-cracked me and you gave me a head start."

"You never lost the faith, did you, Dhruv?" Daxin asked.

Dhruv shook his head. "Never."

"I did," Daxin admitted. "I'm not sure when. It was after the collapse of the Imperium, after the First Crusade, after The Eye opened. I'm not sure where it all went wrong."

"Osiris of the Warsteel Flame, Scourge and Bane," Dhruv said.

Daxin nodded. "I just walked out of my iron fortress, boarded End of All Hope, and left. Took Fido with me."

"How long till you went brain in a jar?" Dhruv asked.

Daxin shrugged. "Fifty, seventy-five years afterwards," he looked at his hand. "My flesh had grown cold and hard, I couldn't stand it any more. I couldn't land on a planet or everyone wanted to meet me, thank me, or try to kill me."

Dhruv nodded. "I figured as much. That's why I was Victor for long. Well, like him, different names, different jobs."

"Spent some time trying to track down Matthias the Second and Matthias the First, trying to figure out which one killed our Digital Omnimessiah and which one killed theirs," Daxin said. He shook his head. "The Second Convergence messed a lot of stuff up."

"Yeah, yeah it did," Dhruv said softly. He picked at his food for a few minutes while Daxin stayed silent.

Finally, Dhruv broke the silence. "There's Trucker."

Daxin didn't turn and look. "Think he'll agree to help us assault the SUDS?"

Dhruv nodded. "He made the mistake of bargaining with Dee. She says he'll join us willingly."

Daxin snorted. "Then he'll join us willingly."

Dhruv stared off to the side for a moment. "He's sitting alone, Dax," Dhruv looked at his brother. "We know what he's going through."

Daxin sighed and stood up, still feeling melancholy, still feeling the weight of the eons weighing down on him. "Yeah."

Moving over to the food forge, Daxin ordered up a quick meal, and out of nostalgia's sake, ordered up one of the old BBQ Pulled Pork rations, complete with the wrapper.

Together, they walked over to the table that Trucker was sitting at, alone, staring at his plate.

"Mind if a couple of sinners join you?" Dhruv asked.

Trucker's eyes got wide and he nodded.

"I'm Vat Grown Luke, that's Enraged Phillip," Dhruv said, sitting down. "You've probably heard of us."

Trucker just nodded.

"Don't mind Dhruv, he thinks he's funny," Daxin said, frowning at Dhruv. "I'm Daxin, that's Dhruv."

"Manuel," Trucker said, holding out his hand.

Both men shook it.

"So, Demon-Mommy says you're in it to win it with us," Dhruv said.

Daxin elbowed him. "Be serious."

"Pfft, make me," Dhruv said. He looked back at Trucker. "She tell you what we're doing?"

Trucker shook his head, unable to find his tongue.

"She will, eventually," Dhruv said. "Trust me, it's going to be epic."

"I was hoping she just wanted me to pick up a pack of her favorite cigarettes," Trucker said.

Daxin suddenly grinned. "Unless you've got a time machine, good luck with that," he said. Daxin reached out and tapped the table with one metal fingertip. "You know where we're going?"

"Telkan System. It's where I was assigned by CDOD," Trucker said.

Dhruv snorted. "Yeah. Well, you'll see."

"See what?" Trucker frowned.

"You owe the Detainee one soul," Daxin rumbled. "And she will collect."

"I thought she'd wait till I was dead," Trucker said.

Daxin shook his head. "No."

"We need you alive," Legion smiled.

Trucker suddenly wasn't hungry.