“That went as well as it could have, I suppose,” Hiran muttered to himself as he leaned back in his pilot seat aboard Chaoswing. The ship had been set to autopilot, and it was heading back to Bei Feng’s manor.

Lila sat in the other pilot seat. The Savant’s gaze was blank and unfocused as she scoured Maruti’s archives. She’d taken her stunning in good stride, not bearing the least bit of resentment toward the mercenaries that had incapacitated and restrained her.

Now, she was doing her best to figure out how Sarasva could be helped. Hiran sighed and reached across the holographic imager between the two seats to brush away a patch of dust clinging to the Savant’s frock. She didn’t notice or react, so engrossed in her task she was.

Hiran turned his focus to his Ajna Interface and checked his Bureau profile.

Madhya Mercenary Profile #88939561-A

Operative name: Hiran_15613

Realm of origin: Ghandarna Empire, Anava

Guild Affiliation: None, freelance

Standing: Eighth Ranker

Gig record: 2 successes, 0 failures, 0 cancellations

Hirer’s Overview

Note: All of the information below has been provided voluntarily by the operative and has undergone no verification. Hirers should peruse and proceed at their own discretion.

Close-combat specialist, proficient with most firearms

He’d jumped seven ranks in one fell swoop by completing the latest contract. Sarasva had told him that the higher a mercenary’s rank was, the more difficult it would be for him to ascend. He would need to complete another ten or eleven equivalent contracts before he’d make seventh rank.

Hiran’s thoughts drifted to the meeting he just had with the Ashen Knight’s lieutenants, all of whom were second-rankers. They’d been a motley assortment of heavily augmented mercenaries who did their best to exude an aura of professional menace and cynicism. In truth, Hiran had been less than impressed by the lot. As far as he was concerned, Maxwell was far more reliable and capable than all of them.

There were three of them, and the first who’d introduced himself to Hiran was Jaya, a Ghandarnian born and bred on Madhya. Jaya had touted his expertise as a close-combat specialist like Hiran. He oversaw contracts necessitating open physical conflict with other mercenary guilds. Elliot Smith was one of the many members of the Ashen Guild who reported directly to Jaya.

The second was an Asharican woman named Clarissa Urban. Her forte was stealth, infiltration, and subterfuge. Clarissa had simpered and fawned over Hiran upon Sarasva’s introduction of him, but there was no doubt that venom and deceit lay beneath her pretty words and her face, which had been heavily augmented for feminine attractiveness. Hiran had frowned at the scent of the pheromone clouds emanating from her implants. Mirabelle Smith was one of Clarissa’s direct subordinates.

The third lieutenant carried even more augmentations than the other two. All that remained of his original body were his brain and some segments of his nervous system, which he displayed within the confines of an armorglass capsule mounted on top of the block of polished black metal that served as his torso. He didn’t have legs either, relying on rolling treads to move around. Three Savant-Slaves had been permanently fused to his body, the considerable processing power within their craniums at his willful disposal. His name was Lochan, another Ghandarnian who hailed from Chedi, and his specialty was data warfare and techno-espionage.

And above them all was the Ashen Knight, guildmaster of the Ashen Guild.

But the Ashen Knight’s will was not absolute, Hiran had quickly learned. Mercenaries were an inherently self-serving lot. Endless Devourer contracts came only from the Bureau, which lacked the nigh-limitless pockets of the various syndicates and corporations who ruled Madhya in all but name. As a result, they paid middling bounties, even though they were extremely dangerous.

That was why, beholden to the Bureau as she was, Sarasva had to resort to drawing lots to decide which members of the Ashen Guild would take on Endless Devourer contracts. It had been a largely unpopular decision, one that had already brought about several assassination attempts and unsuccessful mutinies upon her.

But now with Hiran on board, Sarasva’s worries were over. He would take on the Endless Devourer contracts, while working actively to end the alien threat looming over Madhya.

But as an unaffiliated subcontractor, Hiran thought, looking idly out through the armorglass spaceshield and seeing the clouds whip by as Chaoswing sped toward the manor. That way, I don’t have to worry about guild fees or interact directly with the Bureau, which helps me maintain my cover.

Sarasva would also send reinforcements to his aid, but they would be limited to the dregs of the guild, the fifteenth rankers, those who had the least say about and least sway over their own fate. She’d assured him that as he rose in rank and demonstrated his ability to tackle the Endless Devourers, more highly ranked mercenaries would willingly render their aid, for a cut of the fee, of course, plus additional financial incentives he’d have to pay for out of his own pocket.

That means the likes of Mirabelle and Elliot will be out of reach, at least for the time being. Hiran shrugged. It’s just as well. I don’t know if I can trust the two of them. I don’t know if I can trust any mercenary besides Maxwell.

The former Warmistress-turned-mercenary would contact him again in a week’s time with details of the next Endless Devourer contract, leaving the next seven days at his disposal. Hiran had objected to the delay, because surely something as urgent as the alien threat couldn’t wait. Even as they spoke, the Endless Devourers were stripping the planet of life and swelling their ranks.

But there was a reason for that. Despite her earlier words, Sarasva hadn’t turned a blind eye to the world-ending calamity that the aliens embodied. A few days ago, she’d recruited a team of analysts and researchers specialized in xeno-morphology. They would only be assembled in a facility she’d leased in a week’s time, and they would be the ones concocting the strategic aspect of the counter-offensive against the Endless Devourers, leaving Hiran to handle the actual combat.

It’s better that way. I’ve always been more of a doer than a thinker, and Sarasva was once a great Starforged general. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing. Hiran rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck muscles. A readout on the navigation monitor told him that they would touchdown at the manor in under a minute. He glanced at Lila and saw that she was still doing her research. I’d better make sure the ship lands properly.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Hiran reached for the flightstick, only to hear his Ajna Interface chime. It was a call from Maxwell, which he accepted promptly.

“Hiran! I got the little missy’s messages!” the mercenary said excitedly. “Looks like I missed a hell of a scrap, but you both are okay, so that’s good!”

Lila must have sent him another message just before we started heading back, Hiran thought, before replying. “We could definitely use your help on the next one, Maxwell. How did your surgery go?”

“I’ve got a Crassenstein installed again,” Maxwell reported. “It’s second-hand, heh, but it’ll do. Got me a few more guns as well with the payment from my last contract. You can be sure as heck I’m going to put them to use the next time we’re out and about.”

“Great. We’ve just arrived at the manor,” Hiran said, grabbing the flight stick and adding just a bit of pressure to smoothen out Chaoswing’s landing as it touched down in front of the manor’s hangar. Then he started taxiing the ship through the open doors. “Where are you?”

“I’m already there!” Maxwell said. Hiran caught sight of the mercenary waving his arms—his right one was made up of dark, somewhat scuffed metal—above his head in a view-lens screen. He was standing just outside the hangar. “We’ll talk in person.”

“Alright.” Hiran terminated the call, parked Chaoswing, and lowered the rear ramp. He turned to Lila again, but the Savant had either ended or put a pause to her contemplations. She met his gaze squarely and gave him a nod.

“It is possible to convert Sarasva’s Core and render it capable of processing raw Aether,” Lila reported. “But there are many caveats.”

“We’ll go over them later,” Hiran said. “Let’s meet up with Maxwell, first.”

The mercenary greeted them enthusiastically, clasping Hiran’s hand and giving Lila a hug, which she returned, somewhat stiffly but still warmly. He was wearing a long brown leather coat that reached to his ankles and a wide-brimmed leather hat upon his brow. Maxwell tapped the brim of his new hat when he noticed Hiran’s regard.

“Lost mine with the Buckshot Busters’ ship,” he explained. “Ain’t no Thaxan will feel right without his hat, no sir. Good thing I managed to find this beauty in a street market on the way.”

“It’s not quite my style,” Hiran said, nodding. “But yes, it’s still a pretty nice hat.”

“I see that you have replaced your Crassenstein,” Lila said, her crimson lens whirring as it focused on Maxwell’s new arm. “That will lead to an increase of approximately eighty to ninety percent to your already considerable combat prowess.”

“Damn right it will!” The mercenary grinned and flexed his metal limb, causing the synthetic muscle fibers beneath its carapace to swell up. “Sounds like we’re getting into some serious business from here on out, what with these aliens and all. My Crassenstein will definitely come in handy.”

“Does it do anything besides being an arm?” Hiran wondered, thinking about the shock absorbers built into Elliot’s entire body and the jets Mirabelle sported in her back-jointed legs.

Maxwell’s grin widened. He held out his augmented limb. Lights flashed down his metal forearm for a split second before four panels upon its surface slid open. What looked like a small cluster of hooks and clips emerged from each panel.

The mercenary then drew a pistol from his gunbelt and slotted the gun to one of the clusters on his forearm. The hooks and clips fitted perfectly around the pistol’s trigger without pulling it. Maxwell produced a short-barreled shotgun from within the depths of his coat and slotted it into place as well, before doing the same with a pair of submachine guns into the two remaining slots.

“Every trigger-cluster is synchronized with my Ajna Interface,” Maxwell explained, tapping the side of his head. “This allows me to aim and fire them singly or all together at the same time.”

The mercenary drew yet another pistol and placed it in his right hand, before holding the entire collection out ahead of him. “If one gun is good, then five guns must be… uh, fively good, I reckon. Well, six guns, actually, because I can use my left hand, too.”

Every firearm mounted onto the Crassenstein rotated, so that their barrels were all facing in different directions. The shotgun’s trigger cluster actually lengthened itself, giving the weapon more room to pan its field of fire.

Maxwell grinned. “If I concentrate, I can shoot at six different things at the same time.”

“That’s incredible,” Hiran said, nodding in amazement. “I don’t think there are many people who can do that.”

“Well, my mom always used to tell me I’m one of a kind.” Maxwell chuckled, as he dismounted his guns and returned them to the various harnesses and holsters upon his person. “But she also told me to never get too big for my britches. That lesson’s been the one keeping me in one piece all this time.”

“You are one of a kind, Maxwell,” Lila said. The corner of her mouth twitched in the equivalent of a wide, beaming smile. She turned to Hiran. “We should go over the caveats I mentioned as soon as we can and think of a palatable way to convey them to Sarasva.”

“They’re that bad, huh?” Hiran grimaced and scratched the back of his head. “Well, let’s head on inside and do just that, maybe over a cup of Bei Feng’s expensive tea. We’ll fill Maxwell in on the way.”

“Yeah, I’m curious about this Sarasva person,” Maxwell said. “Sounds like a bigshot, I reckon.”

The trio made their way into the manor proper, where they were greeted by the scholar’s staff and ushered to one of the many luxuriant lounges within the building. By the time Maxwell had plopped himself down upon a leather couch, his eyes were bulging with amazement.

“You mean the Ashen Knight is…” He choked on his words then, and Hiran had to give him a few hearty thumps on the back. The mercenary whistled through his teeth and took out a small metal flask from a coat pocket when he recovered. He poured a hefty measure of its obviously alcoholic contents into the cup of tea a servant placed on the marble table before him. “That kind of news takes some swallowing. Good thing I have the right medicine for it.”

“It is three-thirty-four in the afternoon,” Lila said, her flat voice laden with obvious disapproval. “Is it not a bit too early to drink?”

“It’s evening somewhere on this planet,” Hiran said, holding out his own cup of tea for Maxwell to dose it, too. “Thanks, man. But yes, keep that to yourself, alright? We don’t need to make things any more difficult for Sarasva.”

“Yeah, I get it, I really do.” Maxwell nodded gravely. “If the other Ashen mercs know who their boss really is, there’s not a chance in heck she gets to keep her position. And the Enforcers might have a thing or two to say, too. Consider my lips sealed on this. I wonder if I’ll ever get to see her face, though.”

“You probably already have,” Hiran said, sipping at his drink and savoring its floral scent alongside its whiskey kick. He sighed and put his cup back on the table. “She’s the one who sent you on that khigar hunt.”

“Damn!” Maxwell whistled through his teeth, before sighing ruefully. “So that’s her, the Starforged with the pretty face and pretty… well, everything. I was fancying my chances about asking her out to dinner. Guess that ain’t happening.”

“It ain’t,” Lila said. “The Ashen Knight’s identity must be handled with the utmost discretion.”

“You’re right, little missy,” Maxwell agreed, sipping his tea. “We’ve got more important things to worry about, such as these aliens. I’ve never tangled with them, but then again I never realized that those critters reserved for only fourth rankers and above were actual aliens. I fancied they were actually some of those pesky insurrectionists that call themselves the Acolytes of Light playing dress-up.”

“Acolytes of Light? Insurrectionists?” Hiran frowned. “Who are these people?”

“I will forward a collection of news articles permeating local media about them to you later, Hiran,” Lila said. “But insurrections have been widespread across the length and breadth of the Ghandarna Empire since the Rebellion. Perhaps Madhya’s Enforcers are preoccupied dealing with a particularly powerful and resourceful group of insurrectionists. That might explain their highly unprecedented absence. Right now, we should focus on…”

Hiran felt his Ajna Interface chime, then. It was another incoming call, this time from Bei Feng. He opened it up to Lila and Maxwell through their Ajna Interface link.

“Greetings, Hiran,” the scholar said. “I have been informed that you, Lila, and… your Asharican associate have returned to my abode. Could you kindly please join me in my meditation chamber? You do remember where it is, don’t you?”

“We are in the middle of something now, Bei Feng,” Hiran said, fighting to keep his tone politely neutral. They were in the man’s house drinking his tea, after all. “Can it wait for a few minutes? We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Of course,” Bei Feng replied. “It’s only that our… unexpected guest has awakened, and I have commenced her training. I just thought you would like to partake in the experience.”

What? Hiran surged to his feet and strode out of the lounge, barely registering Lila and Maxwell as they scrambled to follow him.