After a day of scouting and a lucky find in the form of a churlish in the valley, Lon'thul followed the familiar sound of metal pounding on metal. Rounding the corner of one of the larger tents in the camp, the hunter found his friend and sometimes rival sitting just under the awning of the tent. Tel'ron was hunched over his project, all his attention focused on repairing the belly bow in his care.

Lon'thul shoved a bowl of meat and dried biskets onto the table, dislodging one of the tools which the craft master caught on the way down before looking up. "I'm in the middle of something. Can it wait?"

The hunter followed his offering by holding out a water skin filled from a nearby spring. "Can't have one of our two resident craft masters passing out because he keeps skipping meals! From what I'm hearing, you haven't eaten in two days, so if you don't go to the food, I'm gonna bring it to you!"

Tel'ron rolled his eyes before reaching out and taking the water skin. "I've been busy. After the battle, a bunch of gear needed to be repaired and retooled. Not to mention all the wear and tear weeks of constant travel have wreaked on the rest of our equipment. I don't know how long we'll have in the valley, but I'm going to take every minute to get everything back into proper working order."

Lon'thul sat opposite his friend and grabbed a slab of haunch meat before raising an eye ridge. "I know you've always been work-obsessed, but are you sure that's what's driving you right now?"

The craft master echoed his friend's expression. "Of course, what else would it be?"

Despite his observational skills, Lon'thul couldn't tell if his friend was being intentionally obtuse or not. Finally, with a sigh, he decided to stop being so indirect. "You're gonna make me come out and say it aren't you? I'm talking about your father's death. The two of you had disagreements, but you still got along pretty well. Are you sure you're not hiding from his loss by burying yourself in your work?"

Tel'ron sat back and looked at Lon'thul in mild surprise. "Well, you just came right out and said it, didn't you? Most people have been doing anything to avoid bringing up anything remotely connected with my father, but you just came right out and said it!"

Lon'thul sat there and looked at the craft master, patiently waiting for more. Not that he had to wait long. This time Tel'ron's voice was more introspective. "Yeah, his death is hitting me hard. Of course it is, but this is what I do. When I stop and think about it... it's too much all at once, but I don't stop thinking while I work. It just filters through a little slower, so I process things at a more manageable pace while still contributing to the camp. Besides, I figure the best thing I can do to honor my father's life is to fight for the people he gave so much for in my own way."

Lon'thul didn't really understand, but he didn't have to. If this worked for his friend, that was enough, so he shrugged again. "Fair enough, I suppose, but just make sure you contribute to the camp a little less and yourself a little more. You won't contribute to anything if you collapse from hunger or exhaustion! Also, maybe stop glaring at the other metal workers so much. I think they've been too afraid to help you with anything for fear of invoking your wrath!"

Tel'ron looked confused this time. "What are you talking about? I haven't been 'glaring' at anyone!"

Lon'thul grinned mischievously. "What are you talking about? All you do is glare at anyone foolish enough to interrupt your work in any way!"

The metal worker turned his attention back to the food in front of him. "Oh, that's different. If they interrupt my work, they deserve a glare or two."

This time the hunter was outright laughing as he slapped the table. "But all you do is bury your snout in your work! How is anyone supposed to interact with you in any way without interrupting you?"

Tel'ron shrugged and took a drink from the water skin before answering. "That sounds like their problem, not mine."

-

Angela mentally sighed as she settled into her charging station after finishing her most recent rounds with the injured guards and workers. The AI was not having the best day of her life. Oh, there had been worse days, the days she'd lost most of her family or the times she'd almost lost her little brother, to name a few, but today was not far behind all those. Time and again, in the previous day's battle, the AI had an opportunity to end an enemy's life, and time and again, she'd chosen not to. She'd gone out of her way to spare each of her opponents, even if it meant they'd come back for more in a few minutes.

Not that she'd been too gentle. Most of those she'd faced now had severe injuries, many of which may result in a permanent disability that may impact or even shorten their lives, but she could only hold back so much while still protecting those she cared about. She'd carefully rationed every bit of her energy to last out the battle and succeeded...for the most part. But then, when Jack had needed her at the end of the battle, she'd been totally immobile, and poor, noble, Ger'ron had been forced to sacrifice his life to make up for her miscalculations.

Now she was filled with doubts as she replayed every moment of the battle in her mind. Should she have gone all out, slaughtering their foes and showing everyone what she was really capable of? Given how quickly she could have torn through their ranks and how brutally it would have demoralized their enemies, she would have likely had all the power she'd needed at the end of the day and then some. But would she be any better than the AI she'd fought against years ago if she simply decided who lived and died at her whim?

Like many AI who chose the side of humanity, she'd taken an oath to protect life, organic and electronic. While occasionally it became necessary to choose sides, on the whole, she was very uncomfortable with the idea of killing except as a measure of absolute last resort... But what if next time her mercy cost the life of another friend? What if it cost the life of her little brother? Was there really any room for mercy and restraint on the battlefield? But where should she draw the line? Should she have just set off a bomb back at the outpost, wiping out B'arthon, A'ngles, and their whole army in one fell swoop before they became the threat they are now? For that matter, she could simply create a literal army of drones to force peace upon the land, regardless of what any Lords or wolgen had to say in the matter. Obviously, that was too far, but how far back was the line? Or does the line move depending on the situation? If it does, what's the point of a line at all?

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Of course, she didn't let any of this show. Unlike biological entities, she had complete control over her mannerisms. She knew exactly how she usually behaved and replicated her typical behavior to perfection. When B'arthon's forces had been spotted ahead of them, she'd led her friends and family back to the middle of the valley. Safe, for now. But they could only last so long down here. She could spearhead an attack to break through the forces holding them captive but again, how hard should she fight? How many should she kill? How many sentient deaths were the lives of her family worth? Was there even a limit to that number? How frightened should she be that she didn't know the answer to that last question?

While she was charging in her station and everyone else was setting up camp, Jack hobbled over using his cane and set up his folding chair before sitting down and watching Angela. At first, she'd waited for him to say something, but he just sat there silently. Finally, she activated her hologram self and broke the silence. "So, uh, what's the plan?"

Jack still sat like he was waiting for something. Angela tried again, tilting her head as if in thought. "Are you and S'haar gonna call another council meeting?" He still sat there, saying nothing.

Not knowing what was happening or what to do, Angela tried again, this time with humor as she held up a digital mirror she called out of thin air. "What, is there something between my teeth?"

Finally, Jack spoke. "So when are you going to drop the charade?"

For once, Angela felt sever steps behind, and she didn't like it. Her prop faded as she turned back to her little brother. "What are you talking about? What charade?"

Jack sighed and leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly rubbing his bad leg as if it was bothering him as he spoke. "Yesterday, you fought in your first real battle since the AI war you fought beside our father. Over and over, you intentionally placed yourself into the worst of it all, but despite all that, we're still trapped, and Ger'ron is dead."

Angela's mind was working far faster than Jack could speak, analyzing every sound and action in the spaces between Jack's words. What was Jack trying to say? Did he blame her too? Not that Angela could bring herself to disagree, but it hardly seemed like he'd come out here and approach her like this if that was the case. Finally, Jack stopped rubbing his leg and leaned forward. "Yet despite all that, here you are, behaving like you always do. Precisely like you always do. Do you think I wouldn't recognize my sister's acting when I see it? Stop bottling it all up inside and talk to me!"

Damn him! Damn that little brat! When did he go and get so insightful? Once again, Angela could almost see the shadow of their father's face over Jack's as her little brother sat there, forcing her to open up just like his father had done before him, back in the early days of the AI war! Although to be fair, Angela should have seen this coming. That was the one area Jack had always had an advantage over his AI sister. He was too damn insightful when it came to those he cared about...

With an internal sigh that matched her avatar, Angela relented. "I was just thinking... I should have done more... Back there, I mean. If I had been smarter or fought harder, Ger'ron would still be with us, and maybe we wouldn't be stuck in this damn valley."

Jack's eyes focused on a distant point, and he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." Hearing those words stung Angela to her core, but as she started up one of the dozen responses she had just thought up, Jack continued. "And if I'd brought more ammunition, or maybe if I'd trained grim to fight better, or even if I'd bypassed the belly bows and we'd just manufactured a bunch of rifles, he'd also be alive. But we didn't, and he's not. We did our best with what we knew and understood, but reality can be cruel, and our efforts came up short."

Her brother's gaze pierced through Angela's image as though he could see through to her theoretical soul. "On the other hand, despite facing a literal army of experienced warriors, almost all of our friends and family are still with us, and despite our current situation, there's still hope that we can get nearly everyone out of here safe and sound. You did the best you could back there. We all did. No one can ask anything more of us than that."

Angela looked at her brother with a sidewise glance. "That sounds a little too wise for you. Are you sure they're your words?"

Jack grinned and shrugged. "That last bit may have come from a similar speech S'haar gave me a bit ago, but the point still stands. Ger'ron's loss hits me hard too. It's hitting all of us, but despite that, we've done pretty well so far, and the best thing we can do to honor his memory is to keep doing our best instead of wallowing in our few failures."

As if on cue, S'haar wandered around the corner of a tent and started heading their way. The AI knew she'd been speaking with Lack'nul about his new duties just a few moments ago and was probably getting itchy about Jack being out of her sight for so long. Angela relented the point with a sigh meant more for her audience than herself. "Alright, alright, you win! I'm not a total failure of a silver goddess! Now, get your lady friend something to eat before she gets hangry and takes it out on some poor guard in a practice ring!"

Jack looked at his sister a moment longer before relenting and standing up. "Alright, but don't keep all this stuff bottled up, alright? We're only a headset away if you even wanna talk."

As S'haar came over and picked up Jack's folding chair, Anglea nodded. "I will, I promise."

That convinced Jack as he turned and started speaking with S'haar about how her conversation with the new guard captain went while Angela's avatar faded from view again. As the two walked away, Angela sighed internally again. Of course, Jack was right, but that didn't make her inability to protect someone so close to her sting any less. Still, maybe a conversation was what she needed right now, just not with the baby brother, who she was so worried about already.

The AI stretched her mind out through the camp, touching on various headsets to find someone else to speak with. Lon'thul was eating with Tel'ron. The metal worker reminded her too much of what she wanted to distract herself from. That also meant Fea'en wasn't someone Angela wished to speak with. Em'brel was sitting and talking with Sare'en, and Angela didn't want to interrupt the nature of their conversation either. But as the AI stretched her consciousness further, she caught the touch of a connection she'd all but forgotten about.

At the limit of her senses, was Vox'thon, Angela's...daughter? Niece? As one AI had never given...birth(?) to another, it was hard to say what their relationship was, but regardless, she was family.

Angela stretched out and touched on the signal, intending to simply say hello, but quickly realized she'd forgotten just how much...smaller the young AI was than herself. So, pulling a little of herself back, she tried again, taking up a much smaller portion of the smaller AI's mind while conveying a less...enthusiastic greeting this time. "Sorry, I got a stronger signal than I thought I would. I didn't mean to overwhelm you like that. So anyway, long time no chat. How's it going, kid?"