෴Leon Braithwaite෴
෴Reginald Martine෴
෴Juan Alvarez෴
෴Nona෴
෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴
Bonus
෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴
Minutes after Fidel pursued Raz out of the Chad Incursion outpost.
“Are they there yet? Do they have him? Get me an update!” Braithwaite snapped at Juan.
Juan spoke into the radio. A moment later he translated the reply, “They’re at the base of the hill heading up.”
The radio emitted a loud burst of static. Out in the distant darkness, a lingering bolt of blindingly bright lightning struck the hill. In that instant, the brilliant flash lit up the camp like daylight.
The pale blue light dispelled the shadow that had concealed a young woman aiming her rifle at Braithwaite. Juan’s eyes widened. He dropped the radio and raised his heavy rifle.
The sound of half a dozen rapid-fire suppressed rifle shots merged with the crashing thunder. The bullets neared Braithwaite and came to a stop before falling to the ground.
Braithwaite recognized Juan’s target and shouted, “No! Take her alive!”
Juan returned fire. Like the 5.56 bullets before, his .50 BMG anti-material round slowed to a stop in the air in time to bounce off her forehead.
Braithwaite groaned at the sudden exertion of stopping the heavier bullet, “I said alive!” He gasped between panting breaths.
Juan used his own ability. Nona was struck by a wave of disorientation. She gritted her teeth and fired several more times before succumbing to her nausea and intense vertiginous feeling that she was about to fall off the world. In the storm of imposed sensations, she barely noticed the dart when it hit her shoulder.
Braithwaite’s smile was so wide it seemed about to wrap around his head, “It really is you! Oh my. This truly is a bonus. Get her sedated, something precise, at least two hours, and notate the time and dosage.”
French-Arabic words spewed from the radio. Juan nodded to Leon and picked it up. “Fidel and the other one, they are gone.”
Braithwaite frowned at this, but then his eyes lit up with malicious glee. “Well, it’s about time for me to assume official command of this operation. Fidel’s mishandling of this whole thing has now cost us, two agents.”
Juan looked dubious about this, but didn’t protest, “Do you want me to send a team to check the bottom of the canyon?”
Braithwaite waved that off, “Too risky with the local wildlife. We’ll look for them in the morning. For now, I need to report in.”
A few minutes later, the team sent to meet Fidel had returned. Back at the outpost, they joined the rest of the local mercenaries where they were gathered around Juan, speaking in a hushed, fluid blend of French and Arabic. They gathered around the prone form of a beautiful young woman in dark fatigues.
Juan capped off a syringe and tossed it in the bag. He then supervised the group of soldiers as they placed her onto an all-terrain handcart.
Juan slung his rifles and jogged over to the pair of identical tall men looking through the battle footage taken from the cameras worn by Juan and his men, “Are you sure you don’t want her restrained?”
Leon shook his heads. “No point in restraints, but don’t underdose her. She’s a very competent teleporter. I’ve got quite a bit of footage of this one in action with her simulacra. The same way I can make one copy of myself, she can make, well, more than one. If we lose sedation, she’s as good as gone, or we’ll be dealing with a full platoon of her.”
Juan nodded, “I took her weapons of course.”
“I’ve seen her vanish and reappear with more weapons or ammo in under a second. Don’t underestimate her. If in doubt, hit her with your ability again. Disorientation seemed quite effective on her,” Braithwaite replied absently.
“I really should have brought more implants,” he mused to himself.
The phone rang. Both Braithwaites looked at it with uncharacteristic anxiety, “He called back rather quickly.”
While Braithwaite answered the call, his simulacra continued to look through his personal project footage. Braithwaite paced around the center of the small outpost. He walked between the working generator and the one with a Raz-sized dent in the side. He held a bulky sat phone with an auxiliary encryption device attached, switched to speakerphone. Everything from his clenched fists, to his tight, angry expression and aggressive posture made it obvious that he wasn’t enjoying the phone call.
“No. I don’t know where she is. I gave her one job and she either ran off or got killed.”
“You gave her one job?” Martine replied, his voice crackling through the encryption lag.
“Uh, no. I misspoke, of course. Fidel was the one who decided to send her in with the gas to neutralize the camp defenses,” Braithwaite stalked over to a pile of sandbags and sat down, “I only had a small influence in that mission,” he said with undisguised pride.
Martine sighed audibly, “Let me guess, you’re the one who told her to use the Sarin and kill the guards instead of deploying the Q-243 dispenser I had sent specifically for this purpose?”
Leon smiled and nodded, “Yes! I saw where his plan was foolish and risky and adjusted it,” he leaned back against the sandbags with a wide creepy smile on his face, “And now, we have control of the outpost, and can begin to—”
“I don’t want the damn outpost!” Martine shouted. “Fidel followed my instructions perfectly, and you tossed the entire operation into the wood chipper.”
“But sir, we have the outp—” Braithwaite started to say.
Martine cut him off, “I know you’re not stupid. Think this through. Do you think you and a few mercs can hold this outpost against the entire US military and whoever they get help from? You’ve already lost me two enhanced agents, and if you stay, you’ll cost me two more.”
Braithwaite started to reply. Martine didn’t stop.
“Shut up. You don’t talk right now. You listen. Damnit, this is why I prefer to have Candace deal with you. Are you listening?”
“I’m listening,” Braithwaite’s voice was neutral while his expression promised murder.
“Good, maybe you can get this right. Salvage any research documents. Salvage any unusual catalyst formations they have in samples. Get them and anything of scientific value back to the staging area. Leave your copy behind, but you take the rest in person. I want you cleared from that site within the hour. Do you get me?”
Braithwaite gritted his teeth, “I get you.”
“Good. Before I go, is there anything at all you can tell me that might make me feel better about this royal mess you’ve made of this mission?”
Braithwaite glanced over at Nona, then down at the facility footage of Raz and Hex killing chimeras, and then at the rifle cam from Juan as Raz dodged, caught, and threw back a tranquilizer dart in a motion so fast the low light camera barely caught it.
“You know sir, in addition to the teleporter, I think there just might be another bonus acquisition here worth pursuing. But to make the most of it, I’ll need a little more time and resources,” He started to explain.
Martine interrupted him, alarm evident in his tone, “The same guy? That can’t be a coincidence.”
Braithwaite started to reply. Martine cut him off.
“Shut up! Evacuate the site now! There’s a live radar trace out of Atlanta. You know what that means. You’ve got five minutes to be off-site and under concealment. Go now!”
Braithwaite looked to the sky with a shiver then at Juan. “You heard the boss, wheels rolling in sixty seconds! You’re in the truck with my copy. I’ll take what we came for back to the staging point. You hide nearby and check on Fidel in the morning. No lights! Night vision only! My copy is in charge in my absence!”
Juan shouted directions to the crew of mercenaries. Less than sixty seconds later, two trucks were making best speed north, one of them looking for somewhere to hide, the other looking to put the most distance between the outpost and themselves.
෴Raz෴
෴Juan෴
෴Fidel෴
෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴
Kiki, Kikai, Onsha
෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴
The next morning, early.
Before the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, Raz was back on his feet. A quick self-inventory revealed that aside from the clothes on his back, all he had were what Ancient One had left him and the contents of his pockets.
No cash, no ID. Middling quality multi-tool mom got me a couple of birthdays ago, and a pocket full of rocks. The most interesting thing is this metal business card for a place I’ve never heard of.
[Those are not rocks. They are the—]
Dude. You’re in my head. How can you not get when I’m being a little sarcastic? I know its the stuff, things, growths, whatever, from the catalyst sacs. No idea what they really are though. Hmm, that’s odd.
Raz noticed one of them seemed to have been dissolved, eroded, or somehow ablated away. It was covered in his dried blood.
Great, I guess I’m lucky I didn’t get one of these shoved into my hip in the fall.
[One could make the observation that you are more than lucky simply to have survived such a fall onto sand and rock.]
Agreed. I’ve admitted it before, and it’s still true. I’m probably a little biased right now, but having a healing ability is really growing on me.
[I try not to dwell on the sad reality that you ever thought otherwise.]
Bee’s got some snark today.
Raz looked toward the brilliant line of fire on the horizon. After the calm stillness of the night, the morning brought with it a deceptively cool breeze that bordered on windy at times.
Just what I needed, sand blown in my face. Might as well enjoy the cool while I can, It’ll be hot soon enough. On that note, I’d better figure out where to weather the day. Teleportation is looking like a pretty nice power right about now.
[If the educational programming consumed in your youth is accurate, we’ll want to be in shade as much of the day as possible.]
Yeah. I have no doubt it’ll be plenty hot here soon enough.
He spent another few minutes working to soothe his remaining injuries. By now, all that remained were general aches and pains of exertion and the phantom pains of recently repaired massive traumas. Real aches and stiffness were easy enough, but Somatic Restoration didn’t seem to be able to do anything for the pains he suspected were mostly in his head.
The canteen and flask clipped nicely to his belt, a reassuring weight he knew wouldn’t last. His twice-blood-soaked pants felt stiff and more than a little disgusting to walk in. He carried the tray of cold slices of meat and walked along the bottom of the cliff face. He’d only gone a few feet when he noticed a pale blue chevron in his view.
Is that what I think it is?
[Yes. That is the location of your active Ground Control target.]
About that. What the hell does Ground Control even do?
[The ability description is as you’ve seen, it’s a support ability for targeting and control of White Fire.]
Ok, let’s circle back to that. Ugh, ‘circle back’ I cannot believe I just said that.
Raz proceeded with caution and stealth. Around the next bend, he spotted Fidel.
Awkwardly reclined against the opposite wall of the narrow canyon, Fidel was facing away from him leaning into a depression in the wall, at the end of a long blood trail in the sand. The once-powerful man looked broken and fragile. Splintered bone protruded from one of his bloody pantlegs. The other leg lay in an unnatural folded position that gave Raz the willies just looking at it. The way Fidel protectively cradled his right arm told Raz it was probably not in great shape either.
His left arm looked unhurt. It looked as though he’d dug out his shelter further to hide from the coming sun. As Raz studied the distant scene, it became clear.
I guess this calls for reluctant respect. That is badass. Both legs at least as fubar as mine were, and no healing ability. He just drags himself on one hand to a bit of shelter to wait out the day.
From far above he heard voices. Rapid speech in a language he didn’t know but had heard the night before.
Those guys with the older gear. So long in slow time messes with my sense of time. Last night already feels like a long time ago.
Another voice speaking accented English. “I see him. No sign of the other. We’ll head down and have a closer look.
The wind started to pick up. Looking around for inspiration, Raz spotted a tiny gap at the edge of the cliff face in the sand. He carefully scooped sand away, revealing a surprisingly large chamber hidden inside. Wriggling his way in, he was met with a high-pitched birdlike screeching.
“Shh! I’m sorry to hijack your home. I need to hide out!” Raz whispered urgently, as though the tiny fox would understand him.
The big-eared fox screeched again. It remained hiding in one of the small tunnels past the initial chamber.
No chance of staying hidden if this thing keeps screeching like that.
He brought in the plate of lizard rabbit meat and offered one to the fox. It looked at him with suspicious eyes but fell silent when he turned away from it. When Raz snuck a glance back the tiny fox was chewing on the meat vigorously. He thought about those nature shows he’d watched about the area.
So you’re a fennec fox. I knew they were little, but I can’t tell if you’re a baby or full grown. I didn’t realize they’re smaller than a house cat.
All too aware of the short time he had, Raz worked fast to push and pull the sand into place, leaving as small an opening as he could.
The fox ate about half of the slice of meat then picked up the rest and scurried away with it.
The sound of voices, this time much closer, came into the den from the small hole. Raz carefully peeked out the hole. As he did, several people walked right past the hole. The small fennec chose that moment to return and start making the bird-like screeching at him again.
No no no! Shut up!
Raz quickly tossed it another slice of meat. The fox fell to eating with a will. The soldiers outside had stopped, peering around. After a long, long, pause, one of them said something. They all chuckled and continued toward Fidel. Raz took the opportunity to ensure each of them was tagged by Ground Control.
They stopped quite a ways off from Fidel’s fallen form. The Hispanic man carrying two rifles called out to Fidel. “Can you make it back to the trucks?”
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
Fidel roused, he seemed somewhat disoriented at first, then focussed on the soldiers and the man Raz suspected was Juan.
“No. Legs is bad.” he pointed to the bone sticking out of his bloody fatigues. “Broken. Bring truck.” He finally said, seeming to struggle with the words.
Juan shook his head sadly. “I am sorry my friend. The boss was quite clear. He said that if we find you, and you’re unable to return on your own, then we bring you back for his new implant. If you wish it, I will bring you back, but otherwise, I am sorry to say we were unable to find you.”
Fidel scowled, “Would never ask that.”
Juan shrugged. “I know. I suspect he knows. He said that one way or another, this will teach you a valuable lesson.”
Fidel spat a wad of bloody phlegm into the sand next to him. “Yes. That sound like him. You know I in charge yes?”
Juan shook his head with regret. “You were. Two enhanced lost under your command. Braithwaite says Martine pulled the plug on you. I’m really sorry about this. If I brought you back, you know what he’d do. The chip is no way for a warrior to end. If you want I can…” he gestured to his high caliber rifle then tapped his own temple. “Quick and clean.” He waved a hand around the canyon. “Better than the slow way out here.”
Fidel appeared to think it over. “No. Not take easy way. I tough. Might not work anyway.”
Juan looked pointedly at the broken man before him. “But it might. You do not look like your normal indestructible self,” he paused, and shrugged when Fidel failed to reply. “Your choice comrade. Vaya con Dios.”
The Latino said something to the other soldiers, and they started back toward Raz. Checking on the noisy little fox, Raz saw it dart away carrying part of the meat slice. He tossed the final piece over to the tunnel in hopes it would buy him enough silence.
Juan stopped right outside the entrance to the den. Raz heard the static click of a radio.
Crap. Don’t start screeching little guy.
“Are you sure you want me to leave him out here?” Juan asked.
Raz couldn't hear the reply in the man’s earbud.
“Ok, I guess you know what you’re doing. If Fidel somehow survives, I have no doubt he’ll come after you.”
“No, you seem to know him from the video, but looking at how much blood is on the sand here, something already got him.”
Raz focussed on the reply, but a tinny, indistinct voice was all he could make out.
“Sí, you were right. He didn’t find the camera. He landed less than 30 minutes after we left.”
The voice on the other end sounded like he was asking a question.
“No, he collected everything we left and a few other things, and took it all with him when he flew off.”
Raz couldn’t quite hear the words, but the tone of the reply was furious.
Juan shrugged, then kept walking in the direction the rest of the soldiers had already gone.
Not thirty seconds after he’d lost the sound of Juan’s footsteps, the small fox returned from wherever it had stashed the meat and started screeching like an angry bird again.
Ugh. What do you want from me? Can’t we just get along?
[Instead of offering this creature the last of your food, you could have simply used ground control and killed it.]
Whoa, that seems uncalled for! This little guy is kind of cute. I’d feel like I’d be the bad guy if I just killed it for convenience. So I’m not going to kill him, or her. I’m the one intruding here.
The fox sniffed and crept a bit further out of the tunnel, looking at the metal plate the meat had been set on.
Raz settled back and found a comfortable position to wait out the heat of the day. The long night was catching up with him in a major way.
With a skittish series of tiny movements, eyeing Raz’s every move, each second an act of fearful bravery, the minuscule fox crept out of the tunnel to lick the plate. As it emerged from the tunnel, it revealed an injured rear leg and a scabbed-over wound on its tail.
Hmm, had a run-in with something unpleasant I see. I wonder if I could…
[You’d need to touch it. This seems unlikely for such a jumpy creature.]
You might be right. In that case, let's talk about Ground Control and the two sub-abilities. Clearly, at this point, I realize it doesn't exactly do anything. Is there anything you can tell me about what it should be doing?
[The entire second core tier of White Fire seems to be about controlling where White Fire does, and does not, go. Friendly Fire automatically applies to friendly and neutral targets. Controlled Path passively applies to targets with Ground Control or Friendly Fire status. Both may have other applications, but this is all I can see now.]
Hmm, I didn’t really notice it at the time, among all the other injuries, but I didn’t have any burns, even though I let him have it pretty hard. That must mean something.
[Perhaps more practice, or any practice at all, will reveal more.]
Good idea. There was too much luck involved in that fight. Way too many ways I could have just died. I should have handled things much differently. Still not sure I really get how the whole Ground Control thing works though. What are the next abilities possible to get?
[There are still Shatter Strike, and Insulation 2. The next ability along the core tree roughly translates to Charge Path. It has two sub-abilities, neither of which are viewable at this time.]
Well, it looks like I have all day to kill. Which one should I go for now?
[Honestly, neither. You already have a significant assimilation debt, and have not practiced much with what you have. I recommend waiting and getting a solid grip on what you can do now. Getting more rest while you wait wouldn’t hurt.]
At the mention of rest, a fresh wave of exhaustion washed over him. “Ok, maybe tonight I can get some practice after I rest.” He looked at the fox glaring at him from the mouth of the small tunnel. “Well, let’s see if I can help you out, little guy.”
At the sound of his voice, the fox scurried back into the connected tunnel.
Well, now I know how I could have gotten rid of it. Bet it's back in a minute though.
With the food gone, the sun up, and feeling at least relatively safe, Raz got bored enough to look over the etched and embossed writing on the thin sheets of metal.
He picked up the top one and examined it. The baking sheet-sized sheet of light metal was covered, top to bottom, front to back, with a dense script that used characters and symbols he’d never seen before, but somehow still felt familiar. The moment he started studying the script, his HUD started to experience what he would have called glitches on a computer.
Uh oh, is this another brain problem?
[No. It is what you are looking at. I believe this is a symbolic representation of, for lack of a better analogy, the underlying source code for catalyst abilities.]
This all looks oddly familiar. I’m sure I’ve seen some of these symbols before.
As soon as he’d looked over each sheet, and committed the sight of each sheet to memory, he went to the next. Just looking at some of the ‘words’ and ‘phrases’ caused strange effects on his HUD and phantom sensations as though Somatic Restoration or White Fire was going to activate, though they never did. As soon as he finished reading the backside of the third sheet, he set them aside and closed his eyes. He was asleep almost before he knew it.
*** *** ***
The sleep was blissfully free of dreams. He awoke covered in sweat. Even in the relative cool of the fox den, the heat of the day was nothing to take lightly. The fox was still there, watching him expectantly. When Raz took a drink from the large canteen, the small fennec became very interested.
Raz shrugged, feeling a lingering, though much reduced, stiff soreness in the movement. “I’m all out of food, sorry. Want a drink?”
The metal sheets were thin enough he could use his thumb to push in a dimple, creating a shallow bowl. He poured a small measure of water into the bowl. The sight of water was enough to tempt the fox out of the tunnel into the larger chamber.
The big-eared fox watched him intently. It seemed to have become slightly more comfortable with his presence over the day. Once it felt confident he wasn’t about to attack, it slurped up the water with a quickness.
Outside the tiny entrance hole, across the wind-carved canyon, Fidel still sat under the increasingly inadequate shelter. The big man looked to have dragged himself a bit further under the ledge. Raz zoomed his vision in. With a closer inspection, it was clear that Fidel had used his good arm to cut an even deeper recess into the side of the sandstone cliff.
Well, that's a good reminder that he’s still dangerous even with just one good arm.
Making himself comfortable again in the den, the thin metal sheets caught his eye. With some trepidation, Raz studied each of the sheets again, making an effort to focus on each individual symbol.
Definitely feel like I’ve seen these before. I just don’t know where. I’ve got these images saved now, right?
[Yes. I am working on bringing more meaning to them as well. I still think these are related to the underlying structure of catalyst abilities.]
That sounds important. I wonder where Ancient One got it. More than that, why bring it to me?
Raz spent the time while the sun was high, playing with Somatic Restoration and White Fire senses. He found it interesting that even through so much stone and sand, he could see where the sun was with his White Fire sense.
He’d originally started by trying to work with his fine control of White Fire itself, but if he was correctly interpreting the fox’s reaction, the energy wasn’t very subtle even when he used only the tiniest thread of power. The fennec seemed almost panicked when even a small amount of the energy accumulated. He wasn't sure why, but it still seemed to simply gather and concentrate around him when he didn’t give it somewhere to go.
On a whim, Raz marked the small fox with Friendly Fire, showing a pale green icon. When he allowed a thin thread of White Fire to flow into him, the tiny fox remained calm, or at least as calm as the skittish animal ever was.
Raz allowed more to flow around him. The fox seemed to sense something right before the accumulated energy got uncomfortable.
I wonder if I can…
He marked himself with Friendly Fire. Instantly, the uncomfortable feeling building in his hand where the energy was gathered, dropped away to something he could barely feel. Viewing his hand with White Fire senses, his hand now looked very different. The small fast-moving red and blue pulses within his flesh were still visible, but the violent energy swirling around his hand was held just beyond his skin, separated by a thin invisible gap.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
He glanced at the fennec. The small canine watched him with wary eyes.
Wouldn’t be cool to fry this little guy by accident. Gotta keep the testing small scale.
Raz spent the rest of the afternoon experimenting with his control of White Fire. He kept an eye on the sun. By the time the shadows began to lengthen, Raz was more than eager to get out of the cramped den.
“Well little guy, thanks for the accommodations. I guess it’s time for me to go. But first,” he dipped into slow time and shot his hands out to gently pick up the small animal around its midsection. The fennec tried to dodge or retreat, but wasn’t nearly fast enough to avoid his grasp. In slow motion, it whirled and struggled to bite or escape.
After dodging the small hunter’s sharp teeth for several seconds, Raz sighed and shifted his grip to hold the fox’s mouth closed. As soon as he had the fox in a secure grip, he went to work.
Unsurprisingly, the anatomy was all new. Once he got beyond major structures, the tissue and cellular makeup were not so different than his own. The main difference he noticed as he moved deeper into microscopic diagnostics, was that, unlike himself or Hex, or even Sgt. Higgs, the small fox didn’t have any of the countless threads forming from every part of every cell, that stretched off to the infinite.
Hmm, is this some kind of measurement of overall power, or catalyst use? I look at myself, and I seem to have a lot more of those threads than she does, and she has so much more than Higgs. I bet it’s related to how catalyst works.
Once he’d made himself familiar with the anatomy and overall physiology of the tiny canine, fixing the torn ligaments in the leg, and healing the infected bite wound on its tail was relatively straightforward. He noticed and cataloged a number of physiological differences between himself and the fox. Having recently been forced to get intimately familiar with his own kidneys, he noticed several tissue and cell level differences between his and the animal’s organs.
Eleven seconds or about twenty minutes, depending on one’s perspective, Raz emerged from slow time. The fennec still struggled in his grasp, though its struggles had taken on more of an eagerness to be free than struggling for its life. It seemed even the wild animal had realized it wasn’t being harmed.
“Ok, I’m gonna put you down now. Do me a favor and don’t do anything crazy,” he murmured to the wriggling fox.
Raz let it go and pulled his hands back quickly. The fox made a soft warbling sound then dashed for one of the small tunnels leading out of the large main chamber. It had grown gradually more comfortable with his prescence throughout the day, but clearly didn’t approve of being handled.
He wriggled out the opening, then took a moment to close up the entry. With no convenient way to carry them, he’d left the metal sheets inside the den along with another capful of water. Once outside, he eagerly stretched and moved about.
Raz walked the direction the soldiers had come from, hoping and assuming there was a way up the cliff somewhere in that direction. Soon enough he passed the bloodstained sand where he’d spent the night. Seeing the size of the mess, he could see how someone might assume there was no survivor.
[There almost wasn't.]
It was too close. Need a way to make sure that kind of thing doesn't happen again.
Every step of the way he kept his awareness open for threats, whether human or animal.
Or monster.
The walk felt good for his body. Each step helping him work out the soreness and aching. Despite this, the same crazy idea nagged at him along the way.
Stop thinking about that. It’s a stupid idea. No good can come of it.
When he reached the place where the cliff finally met a gentle sandy slope up toward the outpost, he looked up the hill where the collection of fading footprints in the sand left the shadow of the hill and passed into the bright afternoon sun. He couldn't stop himself from looking back at his own partially obscured trail.
Damn it. This is only going to end badly.
With a heavy sigh, he turned around and went back the way he’d come.
This is a bad idea. What are you thinking?
Bee seemed to know his dialog was purely rhetorical. A few minutes of backtracking later, he decided he needed a drink. He looked at the large canteen, then at the small flat flask. The flask sloshed, sounding no more than a quarter full.
“Well, doesn't feel like it’s got much in it. Maybe a single shot worth. Might as well enjoy a drink.”
The small flask opened easily. He tipped it back and downed the liquid. He swallowed a mouthful of the unpleasant gritty liquid before realizing it wasn’t any kind of liquor. The flask fell to the ground, spilling its remaining contents on the sand.
“Ugh, what was that?” He tried to spit it out. The oily liquid seemed to cling to the inside of his mouth.
[That was the contents of an immature incursion beast catalyst reservoir full of low-grade catalyst and small catalyst crystals.]
That’s so gross! Am I in trouble?
He chased the slippery feeling, mineral-tasting drink from his mouth with several mouthfuls of water from the canteen.
[No. Ingestion is a perfectly acceptable way to absorb catalyst, and should absorb the low-grade catalyst crystals as well.]
Yeah, what crystals?
[The ‘grit’. It feels like sand, but is the beginning of excess catalyst crystallization. On this note, despite our earlier conversation, you’ll want to choose another potential ability purchase to avoid waste if this fills your reservoir.]
What about that assimilation debt? Weren’t you saying you don’t recommend unlocking anything else before I get more practice?
[There is a tree you can still spend in without incurring further assimilation debt.]
Really? Is there a way to open siphon and transfuse as a tr—. Oh. Right. Well, I assume you have something in the HUD tree in mind?
[I do. Your Diagnose of Sgt. Higgs showed us new information about high-end ancillary HUD utility.]
Bee played back the messages he’d mostly ignored in the heat of the moment.
--[To partially alleviate these conditions, acquire one of the following known abilities: HUD: Repair, HUD: Respec, Somatic Restoration: Recode.
To fully resolve these conditions, acquire one or more of the following known abilities: HUD: Reforge, Somatic Restoration: Custom Ability, Somatic Restoration: Catalyst Code]--
So level with me. Can you really not see further up the tree?
[I really cannot. This stricture is so deep that if I know more, I don’t know that I know more.]
Then why does the error message call it known?
[I wish I knew. All these listed abilities are beyond where I can see on both of the trees. However, I have a good idea where they will be found on the HUD tree.]
Well yeah, we’ve got Combat on one side and Triage on the other. Seems pretty clear it will be somewhere past Triage and Recovery.
[Precisely. I can also virtually assure you that this ability unlocks will not cause even the slightest of host or system interruptions. You could unlock one right now.]
Raz reached the fox den entrance and sat down next to it in the slim line of shade along the wall.
You’re overselling it. But fine, What do you think, Remedy from the Triage side, Scan or Targetting from the Combat side?
[Scan would have some value. Remedy itself has little value to you, having Somatic Restoration. However, I suspect this ability leads to the listed abilities: Repair, Respec, Reforge.]
Ok, what's my catalyst level at now?
[You have the ability to show all these metrics, you just need to be willing to see them.]
Raz willed a catalyst bar to show up on the HUD, then watched it slowly filling in a half empty bar.
Down around half? I thought I was nearly full?
[Still refilling. Purchase of Ground Control, and your Extensive use of Somatic Restoration cost most of your reserves.]
Wait, two things. Somatic Restoration consumes catalyst? And this might not even fill me up anyway?
[Yes, Somatic Restoration seems to consume catalyst when used on yourself. The amount consumed is insignificant unless you’re, just for example, repairing hundreds of minor and major injuries as a result of being beaten half to death and then falling off a cliff.]
I wonder if it uses catalyst from other people when I heal them.
[Well, from your conflicted line of thinking, I have a feeling we’re going to find out soon.]
Raz sighed. “Yeah. I think so.”
If I hit the cap on my catalyst, go ahead and get Remedy. What’s it do anyway?
[It is very much like Recovery, which boosts all healing effects on you by 100% at rank three. The main difference is that this ability does the same thing, but for the speed and efficacy of targeted healing abilities you use.]
You just said it wouldn’t be that useful. Does this one also not cost any extra energy?
[Correct. It applies an insignificant permanent reduction in STA regeneration.]
How can you say that's not useful? That could be huge!
“Wait a second. Weren’t you the one that convinced me Recovery was great, for basically the same reason?” he muttered under his breath.
[Yes, but I wanted to see if you had learned the lesson. Congratulations.]
That’s kind of a jerk move. But yes, I can appreciate the power of something that doubles the power of something else for no significant extra cost. Force multipliers are always good to have. Anyway, if my reserves cap out, go ahead and get it. I’m going to sit here and think about this stupid decision for a few more minutes.
He sat there in the shade and watched Fidel where he lay crumpled in the hot sun for a while as he pondered the decision that was troubling him.
Finally, he got to his feet and with one last look around, headed over toward his fallen enemy.
Fidel was sleeping, his rest fitful and peppered with small sounds of pain. Up close, the burly man looked somehow small and frail.
Raz sat down in a sliver of shade nearby and waited for him to wake up.
What am I doing here? Walking away would be the simple solution.
He didn't have an answer, just the nagging feeling that walking away would be a choice he’d regret.
When he grew impatient, he released a burst Somatic Restoration into himself.
Fidel stirred, then wiped the dust and grit from his eyes before focussing on Raz with bleary eyes. “Oh. Is you.”
Raz smiled, a tight expression devoid of mirth, “Yes. Is me,” he mimicked the Russian’s accent and cadence.
Fidel closed his eyes and shifted his position slightly against the sandstone. “You alive. Is good. You go now. No let them find you,”
After his reply, Fidel continued a mumbled mixture of Russian and Romanian that went on for nearly a minute before he fell silent.
Raz opened his sensoria, one sense at a time. He could hear the wind rushing through the canyon, the sand rubbing on itself in the wind, the small fox moving around in its burrow, Fidel’s rapid heartbeat, his own slower pulse. No engines, no voices. His other senses confirmed his suspicion that whoever had attacked the outpost was gone.
“Do you want to die?” He asked.
Fidel slowly, laboriously, opened his eyes again. “You still here. Go away. Leave in peace.”
Thinking about the helpless feeling of being beaten by this man, Raz grew angry, “I’m not going anywhere till you talk to me!”
Fidel closed his eyes and grunted, “They will return. Go now. Be gone before.”
Raz shook his head, “I doubt it. It sounds like they’re gone,” he watched Fidel just sit there, “Answer me! Do you want to die?”