Her hand on his cheek was kind and strong.

Her scent matched his and they bore the same stripes.

Her face filled his vision as she spoke, “You are your father’s son. You are my son. Always remember that . . . We never intended it to be . . . But it has fallen on you to carry our honor. We have named you Ra—"

His world was filled with deep, ground-heaving thuds that were quickly followed by the scream of wrenched-plazsteel and the rumbling of a massive overhead collapse. His sensitive hearing picked up the sounds of things all around and into the distance as they shattered, crushed, popped, and pulped.

The dim red-hued emergency lighting, which was somehow bright enough to make him squint and blink from its glare, was immediately blocked by an eye-stinging cloud of dust as it rolled out from falling debris. Blaring of sirens sounded in the distance from both directions down the long passage, he had just . . . woke up? in.

An overhead announcement came from an obviously beleaguered administrative AI:

“System failure. Complete shutdown estimated in 27 micros. Evacuate to the nearest exi—" Its shrill voice cut out with a screech of static along with the termination of all the overhead lighting and sirens.

Blinding darkness punctuated with fading sounds . . .

Micros passed and the echoes of the surrounding destruction began to still. The rasp of his own breathing became the only remaining sound in his ears. His eyes began to adjust, the black of the void shifting into shades of light grey and dark grey . . .

My night sight— he was uncertain how he knew this, but the name felt right. He also somehow understood that to see, even in this way, required some source of light. From the charred scents of burnt plaz and super-heated metal permeating the space around him, the illumination was likely coming from uncontained flames down both ends of the long corridor the . . . tube where he lay was in.

A plaz shard of the transparent face portion of the 45-degree, canted cylinder had pierced through his left forearm. Instinctively, he pulled it out, and the slow well of pooling blood that started to drip to his elbow was soon staunched in his fur.

Not serious. Good.

He flexed both paws, and a matching set of five small claws unsheathed.

Sharp. Ready for use.

He also couldn’t help but notice he was covered with . . . the soft, thin fur of a child. Like so many of the ‘certain’ thoughts he was having, this one had come unbidden from a reservoir buried deep in his mind. But it didn’t feel true, he perceived himself as older for an unknown reason.

Looking around, he was in one of what appeared to be an endless line of similar plaz tubes that ran down both sides of the hall and marched out of sight in both directions. Those on the other side had been mostly buried up to the top of their capping rings and largely crushed by a ceiling collapse of twisted metal and chunked-plazcrete. Dissipating clouds of odorless gas steamed up from the destroyed tubes as the pressurized fluid in the thick transparent housings pooled on the floor and was now sublimating directly into the air. He could also see a few weakly struggling . . . things . . . where their movements were energetic enough to shift the rubble entombing them.

Given the possible threat, he remained still to see if any were strong enough to emerge . . . But in a few micros, their fighting had all stopped. Either giving up . . . or coming to the end of their path . . . Regardless, the rocks remained quiet and unmoving.

The front casing of the tube he was in was also fractured. A roughly star-shaped, jagged-edged crack from some flying debris had ruptured it along its entire length. The fluid it had held drained off save for where its remnants matted his fur down. Now, his child’s body was left lying at the bottom angle of the tube's back wall. He eyed the rough opening in front of him,

Probably big enough to squeeze through . . . But I’m going to lose some fur doing it—

“Move before you no longer can!” A disembodied but familiar voice of command interrupted his thoughts. At the surprise of the voice, he stopped even shifting his eyes in his otherwise motionless body. But his thoughts had already started racing and reached the same conclusion: I may be hearing things. . . but, it is time to go—

He was momentarily surprised by a small, warm, electric sensation occurring at the top of the medial aspect of his left forearm . . . And he saw her again!

She had his scent. Her stripes were still his stripes. His eyes adjusted again as her glowing fur brightly illuminated the world of darkness around him . . . Mother?!

She signaled him from the cracked tube as her tall, strong frame made a quick gesture with a raised paw. She then turned and gracefully prowled down the hall out of sight.

Obediently he scrambled after her through the sharp edges of the opening. Its star-shaped maw snag-shaved the fur from the sides of his face, shoulders, and knees. Scraped raw and bleeding, with padded paws, he shot on all fours over the loose and tilting ruble covering the ground to follow her illuminated orange and black stripes. She didn’t slow as she stalked through the ruins, casting light where the black of the abyss had been before. After a few moments, she held up a flat paw to stop him. She then rapidly swept it to the side in two distinct snaps: take cover.

He instantly shot behind a leaning slab of fractured plazcrete and tried to control his breathing. Wide, nervous eyes shifted from side to side as his swiveling ears scanned the area ahead and behind . . .

In this part of the hall, many dark shapes were still stirring in the thick fluid of the still intact but now deactivated tubes. The occupant’s desperate pounding on the unyielding plaza could only make dull thuds to even his sensitive ears. But it very loudly demonstrated how fortunate he had been in comparison to those who were still stuck inside.

One cylinder had fallen from its cradle and now lay cracked in two down the middle of the passageway. Its former occupant was now wrapped in a chitinous whipcord on top of the piece nearest him. Dozens of short, wiry limbs ending long, pointed claws were at the ready, and a mouth filled with far too many sharp and hooked fangs could be seen as it pulled its lips back to taste the air.

His mother stood completely unnoticed before it. The glow from her fur cast a reflective light over the creature's black exo-plates.

“A scordan.” She said with obvious distaste. It was clear that this beast would normally be below her notice. She continued, “ . . . a poisonous ambush predator. You will have to take it from above, blind it, and tear out its throat.”

His fur shot up and he instinctively shrank in fear—

She turned on him and the disdain she had held for the scordan was fully cast in his direction. Reflexively he straightened and took two calming breaths through flattened nares. Her expression softened minutely.

“Good. Fear is normal and can be helpful when you allow it to sharpen your mind and quicken your reflexes. But you should never display it, nor allow it to paralyze your actions. Once this happens . . .” She narrowed her eyes and looked straight at him, “. . . You will become prey. It will likely be the end of your path and the honor of your sires.” Somehow, the resoluteness in her tone increased. “ . . . In this, there can be no room for exception.”

He closed his eyes and nodded once in respect to his Alpha and her wisdom.

She pointed a paw down the hall. “There are sounds everywhere. Wait for a distraction from the opposite direction and then jump to the top of the slab you are behind — And good selection in your choice of cover. It is both adequate and close enough to strike.” She smiled warmly, confirming the praise she paid him. “Once atop the slab, the scordan will catch your scent and turn at you from its right. Pounce on its right flank away from its leading claws. Strike both its eyes and clamp your maw just below its head. Tear as much as you can without releasing the pressure. Both bleeding and preventing blood from getting to the brain will stop it. So, accomplish both.”

He silently adjusted his position to comply, but she raised an internally illuminated hand, “. . . And young one . . . the beast will taste foul. Do not let that hinder you.”

He nodded again in supplication and crouched in preparation to spring. A few anxious moments passed as most of the startling noises occurred behind him. The cub held his breath and stayed perfectly still as the scordan’s compound eyes raked his hiding area . . .

. . . His bent legs were burning when, an eternity later, the crash of shifting detritus from the opposite side caused the scordan to jerk into a sinuous attack stance with two-thirds of its slim length elevated off the top of its perch. With fangs barred and claws snapping, it stood in a protective array against whatever attack was coming at its armored frame from down the hall.

Without hesitating, the cub followed his Alpha’s command and sprang to the top of the slab. There he seamlessly jumped into a splayed front-limbed pounce—

— But, much too soon for his flying attack to succeed, the scordan was already blurring into a full 180-degree recoil! The cub’s eyes spread wide in fear as the insectoid, now one thousand percent ready for him, braced itself on its lower limbs and unhinged its mouth impossibly wide to catch his helplessly airborne form—

“NOW!”

His mother’s shout triggered an electric sensation again from the same spot on his forearm. This was joined and surpassed by an explosion of release from just below his navel.

Power surged through his body and limbs. Speed and strength the cub never thought possible exploded into his frame. His body also seemed to be following its own commands as bicycling legs flipped him over the now sluggishly moving bug and reversed his facing direction. His quick and taunt double claw swipes cleaved deeply through the scordan’s posterior neck plating without resistance. The soft sound of a wet tear hit his ears as he landed on flexed legs with upper limbs pulled back for any needed second attack or response to a counterattack. A quick look at the scordan confirmed such an attack would never come. Its head had been severed from its collapsing thorax and pendulumed lifelessly on the few remaining stands as the insectoid crumpled off the broken tube.

The tight, shivering, cold sweat that accompanied surging involuntary reflexes passed through the cub's body. Padded paws behind him applauded and he spun back to his Alpha’s glowing form.

“Well done, young one!” She smiled down at him. The upturned corners of her mouth displayed the razor-sharp fangs of the huntress she was.

“What was tha—”

The golden luminous image of the Tigris hissed and splayed both paws with her claws fully extended. “Do not speak! You are alone and vulnerable here. Stealth is your greatest asset!”

The cub leaned forward in objection but was again cut off with upheld paws indicating the world around him. “— No one but you can hear or see me. They cannot — During your stasis my bio-conduits have completely entwined your neural synapses. I am overlaying my sensory avatar on your conscious perception.” She held up a hand to forestall his attempted whisper again. “. . . Yes, I can hear your thoughts as you think them. So, speak to me only with your mind. Understood?”

The cub silently nodded. She then bid him to crouch behind the scordan’s shattered tube as he listened, looked, and smelled for any threats he had drawn to them . . .

. . . Debris continued to randomly shift and fall . . .

. . . He detected the steady dripping of some fluid falling from both directions . . .

. . . But of living spirit beings . . .

. . . Nothing . . .

The cub silently let out a held breath and leaned against the slab, allowing himself a rest from his strained perceptions.

“You are indeed fortunate. The scordan had already eliminated the other nearby threats . . .” She pointed a golden glowing arm at the far side of the other half of the insectoid’s broken tube. The cub stood and crept over to where she indicated. Two bloated corpses lay where they had fallen. The one on top was a small fur-covered mammal. The one on the bottom, a large, scaled reptilian with multiple blunt facial horns complimented with long claws on its muscular front limbs.

He gulped silently at the sight. “So, too, you would have ended . . . If you hadn’t accessed your cultivation’s nascent earth-attuned strength and reflexes.” She patted his head and he perceived her touch as he would any physical being’s. Her face again shined down at him with pride. “. . . I’m very pleased with your capabilities!”

The cub couldn’t help but smile at the show of warmth and emotion. But a question still found its way into his thoughts. Cultivation?

“Yes. As a Beast Affin from an Essence-rich part of the iteration, you were born with one attunement to metaphysical cultivation. In your case, Earth Attunement. It significantly increases your strength, endurance, recovery, and defense. Search your memories. I have already implanted all the necessary knowledge for you to start your cultivation, including the need and instructions on how to absorb the core Essence of other spirit beasts to advance your own core. Find it.” The tall glowing Tiger-Affin pointed a clawed digit at the dead scordan and the other two bodies. “ . . . Then absorb the Essence from these creatures— But hurry. We need to keep moving.”

* * * * *

The cub searched his mind . . . And true to what his Alpha had said, he searched his mind and found the needed knowledge and information. Somehow, it just came naturally as if he had been studying it all his life . . . which the cub guessed in a sense he had.

When he had finished and started to purify the small kernels of energy through his meridians, the youth sat back against the slab as she had instructed him in order to appreciate the sensations. His Alpha advised him that greater appreciation of the feelings of purification would increase his physical body’s and spiritual being’s speed at absorbing and purifying Essence in the future. After the first few minutes of focusing, he found it hard to give the task his complete attention. Questions began to accumulate in his mind, and again, one came to the forefront he couldn’t keep to himself.

Who . . . what, are you?

It had come out meekly, but his Alpha stood up straight and addressed the question with a serious demeanor.

“I am neurogenic imprinting graphed to your clan’s induction index. I was placed here by your maternal sire as a last line of defense for you. I was only ever to be activated in the very unlikely event you were released from stasis before you were claimed by your family or clan.”

Knowing his thoughts better than the young cub did himself, after saying this, she stopped and looked him deep in his eyes. “. . . Yes, I look exactly as your mother did. And no, I am not her. If I’m here, I’m certain her path has ended.” Knowing the hurt its message caused, the Imprint did what was best for the cub, nothing. He needed to accept the hard reality of his unique situation if he was to become half of the hunter his father had been.

“Let us proceed . . .” and she continued down the hall.

Swallowing past the fresh lump in his throat, the cub rubbed the tears coming to his eyes off onto the fur of his arms and followed behind.

* * * * *

The next several days? nights?, it was impossible to tell in the dark, they ran across several other spirit beasts and beings. One, called a chattan, towered over him in its light-colored, rock-hard skin. Slow-moving, but endowed with impossible strength, it had cracked the plazcrete floor below them with massive stomping attacks. Finally, it had crumpled into broken lifeless pieces after uncountable enhanced slashing attacks, between the youth’s relentless dodging, that had chipped away at the chattan’s bulk.

There was a pair of fish creatures with pale skin and long, rubbery limbs that the Implant identified as belonging to the ryba. A race dwelling predominantly in warm, shallow seas. Neither seemed to be a combatant. In fact, both were unconscious and near expiring when the cub happened upon them.

At length, the youth fought a short, large-eyed creature with dark grey skin, spindly limbs, and no detectable mouth. It walked upright like a humanoid, and each of its limbs bore biologic implants that glowed blue when it manipulated kinetic energy around it to freeze the ground under the cub’s feet and hurled chunks of ice from seemingly nowhere.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

There was also a blob-like organism of indeterminate size and dimension; his Alpha was identified as a “gumpal.” It apparently existed primarily in bio-plasma-rich regions of star nurseries and could adopt differing shapes and sizes based on the chemical bond energy at its disposal. When they came upon it, the free-flowing creature was in the process of absorbing several small furry mammals within its transparent body’s core.

The Imprint allowed no quarter for any of them. Which was good, as none would likely have been given. Even the shrew creatures were eliminated, and their core Essence was absorbed when the cub lured the gumpal under a large and precariously placed plazcrete slab. Reducing the creature into splattered globules so small it was unable to reassociate with itself. Up until then, the creature had seemed virtually invulnerable to his empowered claw swipes.

From all, he absorbed Essence resulting in filling his core once to the point of needing to be condensed. His Alpha instructed him this was also in his implanted memories, and again she was correct. He was able to do it with the knowledge he already had but found it a bit unpleasant. Mostly it felt like squeezing a grease-covered ball in both hands and compressing it down to half its size while it tried to expand. Frustrating until you found just the right grip . . .

As they continued, the cub realized that the facility he had awoken in was massive in its layout and expanse. Its perpetually stretching hallways and unending rows of stasis tubes that always continued out of sight gave him an uneasy feeling of insignificance in comparison to its scale. He did, however, acknowledge the benefit of his small size while working at worming his way through the rubble-filled stairways that would have kept out any adult-sized creatures. Though the cub suspected the gumpal would have made it through if it had gotten the chance . . .

The Imprint also proved to be a fountain of knowledge about many things. Any and all questions about cultivation techniques, Essence manipulation, and combat techniques would be explained in repetitive and often time painful detail until the quizzes she asked after her instruction were answered to her satisfaction. She also insisted on instructing him on the best ways to utilize his enhanced strength, channel his Essence when attacking and defending, and the most effective ways to purify the core Essence he harvested. Finding that the cub had mastered the techniques she provided, she even gave him preliminary instruction on the use of his Earth Attunement to create a defensive shield. During his practice sessions, he was unable to fully propagate it. Only achieving a small area around his core that was shielded before his concentration broke. The cub kept at it and took solace that it was a work in progress.

However, on things that mattered to his sanity, the youth soon discovered that the Imprint was a brick wall shrouded in enigma. As his second question on their first day had proven,

I understand that you are an imprinted on my mind and body . . . He stopped in his tracks on an unstable plank of twisted metal and chunks of plazcrete to make sure the Imprint was looking straight in his eyes before he continued, . . . but . . . Who were my parents? What is my name? And who am I?! Achieving the mental equivalent of shouting by the end of his string of questions.

The expression on the Imprint of his mother soured, “I cannot tell you that.” she bit off matter-of-factly. Then she turned away without preamble to continue on her previous line of advance. Several seconds passed before she turned back and beckoned for him to continue in her wake, still without providing any answer. Her glowing form proceeded over a larger-than-usual pile of rocks and twisted metal, then was lost to sight as she dropped down to its other side. Even the light she cast on his path started to fade, leaving him in growing shadows.

The cub sullenly stood in the diminishing light of his only companion and lifeline.

. . . No answer coming . . .

Will I stay and die in the darkness to protest a programmed string of binary—

“Oh, how dramatic the young can be— Have you forgotten that I am attached to you?! My perception avatar—” His Alpha reappeared next to him in her full luminescent glory with a stern expression on her face and waving a single claw under his nose. “— is just me overlaying a visual guide on your physical sensations to enhance our bonding” A brief and slightly painful electric burst occurred under the familiar patch of fur on his left forearm to drive his Alpha’s message home.

“. . . And young whelp, I am much more than a string of programmed binary! Now continue along the indicated path and I will explain to you why I will not tell you what you want to know — I doubt you will like the explanation much better than the lack of an answer — But it will be up to you to decide if you stay here and die pouting because you did not get what you wanted even though it was hazardous to your survival in the extreme . . .”

The cub cast his eyes down in shame at the Imprint’s calling him out on his foolishness and proceeded behind her in silence. He continued to climb over the ruins on all fours as he waited for her explanation.

She glanced back, apparently satisfied with his compliance she spoke. “. . . As I have already explained— And it is a punishable offense to make your Alpha repeat herself, do not do it again!” Her eyes flashed sharply, and he nodded his head in apology and supplication and she continued. “I am the last defensive measure put in place by your mother when you entered stasis. The fact that I have been activated is a very strong indicator all of her other measures have failed. That you are alone, and the universe is still a very hostile place concerning your continued existence. As such—” She waved both her paws in graceful arcs to indicate their present location “. . . the best defense you have out of stasis there is the same as in these dark tunnels: stealth and non-detection.”

They came across the bottom half of a mostly buried body. It had a broad-hooved foot on one leg, the other was replaced by a mechanized peg leg of sorts. Bulky and inelegant, it spoke of function rather than aesthetics. Knowing the drill, the cub leaned down and absorbed the remaining core Essence of the deceased and set it spinning through his meridians to be purified and added to his own. He then enhanced his arms with Essence and lifted the biological leg up to silently severe it with a sharpened plazsteel strut. He stood up and sniffed it with a sour look.

He looked at his Alpha,

It’s one day from turning. I’ll have to eat it now. She nodded in agreement and continued as he followed behind her, quietly chewing the hairy leg.

They came to a cracked slab at knee height, and she indicated for him to sit beside her. Then she leaned in, and her expression softened as real concern showed in the set of her eyes. She also spoke under her breath in a softer tone than she had been using. “I assure you, the threats that move against you are significant . . . With no one out there to aid you knowing nothing of your past, not why you are here, your parents’ names, or even your own identity, will be your best defense against detection and mental compulsions to force disclosures. Because of this, I cannot share the information you have asked of me. Your best chance at continued existence is to hide in plain sight as a simple Beast-Affin orphan.” She looked up with mocked innocence on her features. “. . . You have no past. You are nothing of interest to anyone.” She finished with the sly look of the predator in her eyes. “All the better to strike those who would harm you when the time is right!” She rubbed the fur between his ears and brought a smile to his face.

She had been right . . . he didn’t like this answer any better than her first refusal . . . but he couldn’t argue with her logic. They would have to get out of here. Once out, they could determine what challenges faced him. What moves would be best for them to make . . . Who knew,

Perhaps things aren’t as bleak as the picture you are painting. He thought to her.

A considered expression came to her face. “Perhaps . . . and if so, we can reevaluate at a later—"

Both of their heads snapped down the hall in the direction they were traveling.

A voice was speaking out of the darkness beyond the light pool that the Imprint’s illumination created.

“— That’s affirmative. A preliminary sweep is positive for biorhythms of at least one lifeform on this level. Request permission to investigate. Over.” His senses also could tell that the speaker was approximately 10 meters above the ground, either on a raised section or . . . hovering.

Static “— Negative Night Edge. Await backup prior to initiation. End Runner and Discord are en route to your location. Over.”

There was the smallest hesitation and the first voice spoke again. “. . . Affirmative. Awaiting back up. Night Edge Out.” His communication device cut out with a small beep, and he spoke again, muttering, apparently to himself. “. . .That’s all I need down here . . . those two yahoos . . .”

The Imprint was standing on her toes and peering into the darkness. After a moment, she turned back to the cub’s crouching form and led him back the way they had come at a brisk, but unenhanced pace. The cub cycled his essence to enhance his legs for more speed— The Imprint held up a hand to stop him. “Do not use your cultivation. You will not be able to escape their technology. All you will do is reveal your abilities in a failed escape attempt. This part of the iteration is Essence-starved. Cultivators may come here, but none are born here. The element of surprise is on your side should the need for combat arrive. Always keep your abilities a secret from others unless you have no other options . . . and will leave no witnesses . . .”

As they ran, his Alpha adopted a contemplative expression. “The identity of this threat is unknown. However, I suspect it is the force that bombarded the installation . . . They are obviously searching for spirit beings. It is unlikely they are mercenaries hired to find you specifically. If they were, they would have located your specific tube and terminated you directly.” His Alpha rolled her golden glowing eyes at the destruction around her. “. . . Not created this mess. I believe they have their own purposes — unrelated to you — for seeking out the living in this tomb. However, their coordination and level of technology make them very hard targets.” She looked over her shoulder and appeared to hear something that was beyond the cub’s ability to perceive. Whatever it was made her redouble her pace, and they entered a flat-out run back the way they had come. “We cannot make it back to the stairway to the level below. We must try to get back to the standing slabs we passed several micro gyra ago and attempt to lay an ambush.”

The cub remembered the spot. She was referring to a section of the hall that had plazcrete slabs leaning against one another in a roughly vertical tent formation. There was adequate space between the slabs for him to maneuver, hide, ambush, and fight. He gripped the piece of sharp steel in his paws and admitted he didn’t have a better plan . . . and his smaller size would be a plus there.

The micros ticked by, and they crested a hill of debris. The Imprint’s emitted light cast the leaning plazcrete slabs they were running towards into harsh shadows. They were still more than one hundred meters away over very uneven terrain.

It’s too far— was the last thought he had as he heard the double ‘foomp’ of two hydraulic launchers decompress above him. Then he saw stars as overlapped confinement nets slammed his head and body sharply onto the rubble-strewn plazcrete. Stunned, the cub was then pinned tightly to the ground as magnesium self-setting pitons burned set-holds for the two nets into the ground around him.

Dazed but alert enough to cycle Essence and start healing his wounds, the cub tried to blink his mind into clarity as the Imprint filled his vision and tried to get his attention, “Lay still, this was anticipated. Keep your Essence cycling and be prepared! We will await whatever chance your Karma provides us.”

Out of options, the cub attempted to control his breathing and listen as his pursuers talked to one another several meters overhead.

“. . . Yes, Discord, the kid was definitely running from our pursuit. Not to be captain obvious here . . . But that’s why we have wing frames! He’s a Beast Affin child, not one of the Raktun biosynth cloners. All I’m saying is, ‘Hold your horses, and we can approach him three by three, get to the bottom of what he knows with no muss, no fuss.’ If we proceed with reason and treat him fairly, the information he gives will be much more likely to be accurat—

— Edge, I don’t care what you say. This kid is working with the Raktun or was in one of their stasis tubes, for an unspecified reason. Either way, he knows more about what is going on in the lower levels than we do. And believe me, I’m going to get him to help us find the cloners still hiding down there so we can collect that fat Techno-Lord bounty. Just stay out of our way and let the grownups work, Edge. We all know you are squeamish when it comes to the rough side of this business.”

Under the tight metallic netting, all the cub could see was a set armor shod feet landing in front of him. But he could hear a second set landing behind him. One of the boots pressed down on his neck, and the muzzle of a projectile weapon was shoved against his forehead hard enough to tear the skin under his fur. Surprisingly, the voice that accompanied this aggression was friendly and reasonable.

“Young one, you have come from down below. That much is clear. Tell me where your synth cloning masters have hidden themselves . . . and I’ll let you go. It’s as simple as that. You are of no value to us. Isn’t that right End Runner?”

“Absolutely, Discord. We have no use for him beyond what he knows.”

The Imprint’s face appeared before him. “Body language and voice analysis models calculate their statements are lies. They will terminate you when you tell them what they want to know, or they realize you don’t know it. You need to get them to set you from the netting. Behavior models predict that your greatest chance of surviving this encounter is to tell them you know where their prey hides and will show them — However, they are much more likely to believe you if you first make them think you are trying to resist their interrogation —Yes, I see that you understand. Proceed, cub.”

“I don’t know what—”

The pulse of an energy weapon impacted the ground so near his front right paw that it singed his fur. “I really don’t know—” The next pulse vaporized the lateral half of his right paw and the roar of pain from his small maw was pathetic even in his own ears.

“That was just a warning whelp, lie to me again, and I will end you here. Do you understand me?” Discord’s voice was calm but definite. It was clear that torturing children to death was a situation he was very comfortable in.

Pain and real terror filled the cub’s voice. “. . . Ok! I’ll bring you to them, I have to show you . . . I can’t remember enough detail to tell—”

The next two pulses sent his consciousness spinning into pain-filled oblivion as they turned the rest of his right paw and his entire left paw into disassociated molecules. His vision and hearing were fading in and out. Before he lost consciousness, he needed to enhance his back claws and die fighting—

Again the Imprint filled his mind with his mother’s face. “NO! Do not attack! Probability models have you failing to survive all attempts at violent extrication from this position with 99.78% certainty due to the posterior guard. You have a much greater chance of living through this waiting for a better chance!”

His vision was funneling, and he could barely understand Discord’s words as the soldier leaned in to speak in a matter-of-fact tone. “. . . If you think I’m foolish enough to fall for that kid, you’re dumber than I thought . . .”

The air filled with the acrid smell of burnt hair as the searing hot barrel of the energy riffle burned a ring of his fur to ash with a squelching sound against his skin. Discord again smashed his head against the ground with it as a coldness came into his voice. “. . . Last chance —”

“That’s enough Discord! I’m not going to let you kill a kid in front of me!” Night Edge shouted from nearby.

Discord let the pressure up slightly on the cub’s head. “ . . . I don’t see that there is a whole lot you can do about it—

“—Overwatch, this is Night Edge, come in! Come in!?” Only static was returned from Night Edge’s com.

“. . . Ya, about that . . . We’ve been blocking your signal since we flew down . . . Now that we’re sure you’re a rat—"

Multiple energy discharges occurred all around the cub’s prone body.

Golden light flooded his swimming as the Imprint shouted in his mind calling him to action. “NOW! Enhance your body and get out of this net!”

The cub focused his slipping attention down to his core and spun his Essence into circulation . . . The healing of his limbs started noticeably . . . But his focus and mind were too far over the edge of delirium to accomplish anything other than weak and misdirected squirming of his limbs under the taunt mesh of the net.

The shooting stopped and the cub was fairly certain he had heard all three bodies hit the ground . . .

. . . It was a bitter twist of fate that the only one to make it back to his feet returned the business end of a weapon to the Cub’s struggling head. The youth’s paws had mostly regrown, and his head was clearing. He could see and smell the thick drops of blood mixed with bowel contents falling onto Discord’s boots from an open abdominal wound.

I still have his gun to my head . . . But his path is ending almost as fast as mine . . .

Near the end of his path or not, Discord had some words to say. “Seven black abysses Edge! I’m going to make you watch me kill this kid! Then I’m going carve your heart out for what you did to End Runner!”

Night Edge replied in a weak and pained voice, but the cub wasn’t paying attention. The Imprint was back in his vision, her glowing face somehow amplified by rapidly spoken words he wasn’t sure he completely understood.

“There is no time. Remember what I have taught you! Get out of here and maintain the secret of your identity. I’m going to fully discharge my polarity conduits. It should be enough to stun Discord. Use the distraction and finish him. Blessings to your cultivations, young one!”

Then the comforting golden light that had been with the cub since exiting his tube vanished. Leaving him in the dark amid the waving lights mounted on the soldier's wing frames

Discord’s bleeding had only increased in the intervening micros and he started slurring his words. “Whah’d you ssaay Ehddge?! Bahhh, dooessn’t mattterr! Whattch tthhiss—”

Jagged bolts of blue-white electricity jumped from the cub’s forehead and shot up the barrel of Discord’s gun. The soldier’s body instantly went ridged and he pushed straight back on his heels as he bit through his tongue. Showering gouts of blood sprayed from his mouth as his overwhelmed nervous system spasmed. Fine tendrils of smoke started to rise from the soldier’s skin and facial hair as the paralyzed Discord fell over backward, stiff as a board.

The cub’s enhanced back claws and freshly restored front paws shredded the weave of the metal netting and he sprang to his feet. In a blur, he repetitively buried his sharpened plazsteel strut into Discord’s still-twitching cranium. When the youth was finished, there was very little to prove the bastard had ever had a face.

“Come in! Repeat, come in Night Edge!”

“Come in End runner! Repeat: Come in, End runner! Do you require assistance?”

Two com devices screamed to overlapping verbal life behind the cub and he spun with his still adjusting night sight. The one identified as End Runner was missing most of his face, along with the head behind it. His grey-armored body lay in a pile of crumpled and impossibly bent limbs.

The other, Night Edge, was slowly elbowing himself up to a partially sitting position. Multiple scorched holes in his chest and abdominal plates spoke of the wounds feeding the growing pool of dark blood under him.

The cub’s eyes narrowed as the soldier moved slightly in the direction of his dropped weapon . . .

Night Edge leaned back down with a pained grunt that turned into a sigh, and he looked up sheepishly at the youth covered in spattered Discord. “. . . Sorry . . . marine’s forced habit of retrieving a fallen weapon . . .”

Night Edge looked down at his general condition, then spoke through a rueful smile to the cub.

“. . . Listen kid . . . I don’t think I have a lot of time left . . . I'm not foolish enough to think that I'm going to live forever or any other myths . . . But, If you don’t mind . . . I’ll call in to get some help for the both of us . . . what do you say?” He struggled to lean toward the cub and offer his right hand in trust, “My name is Night Ed— My name is Ishan. It’s nice to meet you. . .”

* * * * *

Ishan tensed for a second as the Leviathan’s chief Astro-conductive engineer called him out of his memories and back to the present.

“I’m sorry, sir. What did you say?” The Senior Chief’s deep voice was thick with long, deeply held secrets.

The engineer smiled as if he already knew the answer to his question but was being polite to ask again. “Sorry to disturb you, Senior. I was just asking if you were ready for us to activate the polarity calibrator to reactivate the primary node of those intriguing nano-filaments associated with your nervous system.”

The balding human researcher rubbed the back of his head and slightly squinted his eyes, “. . . I know you’re the one who asked for it . . . but the core of this technology was given to one of our deep space scouts in trade . . .” The engineer’s narrow shoulders rose in unison under his lab coat and the equivocation matched the uncertain look on his concerned face. “. . . It’s very advanced . . . on the cutting edge of our understanding . . . I’m not exactly sure what it will do to you . . .”

The sheepish man finished by looking down at the massive chrome-plated braces Ishan’s arms were locked in and he seemingly couldn’t help but track along the multiple power cables— thicker than the Tiger-Affins muscular arm— coming from the dual StarGen capacitors in the back of his lab.

“. . . All we really know is that its quantum particle flow signature is an exact match for the micro currents still running through your mostly dormant internal . . . ah . . . system. . .”

Ishan had expected this . . . It was the third time the conduction specialist had brought it up. “I appreciate your concern, sir. But there are some answers I need. Please proceed.” Ishan’s tiger brows leveled off, he put his mouth guard in, working his jaws a few times for a good fit, then squared his jaw in preparation for what would come.

The lights in the forward half of the Leviathan dimmed momentarily as the chief engineer engaged the charging conduits . . .