“What do you mean?” Zan said, a heat resembling anger building in his bones.

“Don’t tell us… you lied?!” Jiehong said, sharp and fully awake.

“No! I didn’t lie! I do have information about old defenses in the region. I do! It just… might not be the game changer you are hoping for,” Whiskey said.

Okay, Zan told himself. She has information. Some, anyway. She didn’t lie. We knew this mission was not a fair exchange from the get-go.

“How about this?” Jiehong said. “Just tell us what you know, then we’ll decide whether the information is good. Either way, we held up our end of things. Your people are safe. Now it’s your turn.”

Sighing, perhaps of relief, Whiskey said, “Okay, so here goes: as a huntress, I spend most of my time in forests. Forests like the one we are deep within now. Once in a while, I will encounter old ruins. Most of these ruins are not interesting. Just old refuse from long dead societies, picked clean of any value, or the value being deep and dangerous to retrieve, so what’s the point? My occupation keeps me tended to those things still alive — big game, you know? A few months ago, however, I encountered a building which looked very similar to the design of your ‘command center.’ Super smooth, black. Both are the splitting image of each other. Since then, I have seen nothing like your command center. Right? That is, until you two and those ‘wardens’ of yours came along. Food for thought, maybe?”

Trying it over in his mind, Zan said, “So, you think the command center has a twin? You think the building might have weapons for us to use?”

Whiskey was defiant. She said, “I don’t know what to think, Zan. All I know is this: that building and your command center likely spring from the same cloth. Anything with a sibling ought to be investigated, don’t you think? Hopefully, you will find what you’re looking for. And if not? I gave what I know. Consider us even?”

Maybe it isn’t the grand army hidden in the earth I wanted, Zan thought to himself, considering Whiskey’s words. But darn it! That has to mean something. It has to! The command center emerges, supposedly reacting to my need, and despite the fact this ‘Ranger-Knight order was once huge, now only the command center is alive? I don’t think so… I bet the Wardens will know more when I talk to them about the possibility. For now, I owe this woman a debt for daring to seek us out and demand help. This information might change everything. IF, and only if, this ruin of hers has a connection.

Zan reached out for Whiskey’s hand. She extended, and they shook.

“Thank you, Whiskey. The trail might have been rough, but we made it work. Tell me where this ruin is and we will go investigate. If it is not what we hoped, then ‘oh well,’ yeah?

I don’t regret helping your village,” Zan said, warmly as he could.

“I’m glad to have pestered you, then!” Whiskey said, smiling more brightly than he or Jiehong ever could. “I have to get back to my rounds. Making sure everyone is good. Zan, Jie — thank you for your services. Considering the war, we’ll see each other eventually, I figure. So, until next time, boys!”

Sharing a group hug, Zan and Jiehong sent her on her way with a pip to her step. She told Zan step-by-step instructions on how to reach the ruins. Not missing a beat, Zan then communicated the information to the Wardens via his communication-ear-device. Responding to his question on whether it was possible for more Ranger-Knight structures to exist out there in the world, Screen Master Simulacrum simply said, “The order has a long and noble history. Not of all it is written. It is possible, although unlikely.”

With Whiskey having set off on her own journey, Zan and Jiehong got back to theirs. Looking at each other, both seemed to agree without even a single word. They had to head back to the command center.

It was early in the morning when they set out. A full night’s sleep under their eyelids gave them pep not seen since the last time they restored themselves after a mission. Which was good, Zan knew, because for the journey they had ahead of them, they would need all the energy they could gather to make it before the sun set.

Most of their journey lacked excitement. Jiehong and Zan chi-chatted like old times. Each got along well, the nastiness in the past… for now.

With ample chattery time and an equal measure of daydreaming time, thinking of the peaceful moments, and how an ideal world would be, Jiehong asked about the elephant on the trail. He said, “So… what was that super-moment all about? I saw you clutching your stomach. Then… wow! You took out all those guys. It was incredible!”

Zan didn’t know what he should say, so he said, “Honestly. No idea. I was getting worked up, thinking about how it seemed too short of a life, and how I didn’t want to die. Then, boom! The parasite-thing in me started grooving all about. I just erupted!”

“Crap on a cracker…” Jiehong replied. “Think I’ll be able to do that, too?”

“Oh, no doubt. If I can do it, you can do it!” Zan said.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Of course!” Jie replied in his haughty tone. One which Zan had grown accustomed to in the life he had known his friend. “Still. Good to have an insider’s opinion.”

After a while, Jiehong suddenly asked, “How did it feel?”

“Painful,” Zan said without missing a beat. “Painful.”

“Like… painful during the ‘big power’ moment or painful leading into the big power moment? How did you know something was happening?”

“Both, I guess. Leading into that explosion of power, I felt angry, pained. As I said, I didn’t want to die. Once it encased me in that power — it was like a fire cacoon — I went with the flow. Was it painful? Sure. It wasn’t a bad pain, though. Sort of like when you’re stretching?”

“Incredible! And for my biggest question — do you have a crush on Whiskey?”

Zan laughed. Hard and sudden, he hadn’t expected the question.

He replied with as much truth as he could muster and said, “No, I don’t have a crush on Whiskey. If you want her, go right ahead. I have my plate enough full as stands without mixing in the female persuasion!” Zan laughed.

#

Across the highway, bodies lay broken.

Only a couple of rebels remain, poking the still functioning automotrons. The loyalists have already left for the greener pastures of their fortified towns. Like us, evening is coming, though we are not interested in the automotrons upon the ground or the folk on the road. Our interest lies within the nearby huddle of an imperial engineer…

Let’s enter his mind to find a better understanding of his psychology:

It is so fecking absurd. Like, really. I am not a soldier. Yet these kids, these freaking children, order me around like I was some mercenary. It’s absurd!

Yet I obey. Time and time again. I follow orders. Which does not exactly set for me a precedent worth following. What can I do, though? Their paychecks are larger than I expected, their ‘good performance’ bonuses more generous than I thought. I had children. Children who could attend fancy private schools and receive the best medical care and magical training with the kind of money these clients were paying. All I had to do was take it. Swallow and nod my head like a good boy…

Which put me in the position I was in now. Huddled in some bushes just inside the forest line alongside a highway. Only me. By myself. Armed with nothing but a dagger and a crossbow, I didn’t know how to use. And a strange machine which emitted an unusual smell while it whirred; this was what my clients wanted me to do, actually, take the whirring machine, set it up here, and observe a battle they knew would happen alongside this road. How did they know a battle would happen here? I had no clue. But they knew and though I had been skeptical, it had, in fact, transpired.

Throughout the battle, I had never been so frightened.

Not ‘scared,’ per se. Not fearful of my life. Frightened. As in, anxious and unnerved, worried over my safety some, perhaps, but not mortally unsettled. Hearing the smash of blades on wood, the relentless trampling of the automotron horde, the screams, the warmth as magic blasted through the field. The few who died and their stained blood upon the road, visible from my nest; for how couldn’t it be seen when it was as a red pond in a sea of brown dirt?

I am better now.

The battle is over. Who won? The enemy, apparently. Not like it mattered to me. In the end, the enemy always lost. That is how it always was with the military might of the Expanse. Slow to burn, impossible to drench. Once the Expanse has settled on claiming your land, there was nothing you could do about it…

I wasn’t here to talk politics or militarism, though. I put such things from my head.

Pressing a button on the machine, as the instruction manual on said machine made very clear to do once my time using it was up, I packed the machine into a special protective carrying case. I slugged the case onto my back, made one final check to ensure I left nothing behind, and returned to my clients.

My clients were inside of a hill.

They discovered an old ruin left behind by a civilization of the past and promptly took the space over as their base. I use the word ‘base’ lightly. Inside the structure, they spent all their time sitting cross-legged meditating. I half-figured I would find them doing the typical youth thing — drinking or smoking.

These clients were not so youthful, though. Or if there were of the age where such behaviors like substance use seem mature and exotic, it clearly passed through these youths with nary a scratch left upon their supple flesh.

Why was I talking like this? Supple flesh? Wat? Thank goodness that was all my inner-monologue. If people heard me talk like that in real life, the public would cast me aside as a creep. I think what it is, is I have been spending too much time with these barely human clients of mine. Harsh? No… not to them.

I walked into the base and set the device down where they instructed me earlier to place it once I finished. They remained sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Swaying back and forth. Chanting.

Inside the base, the air quality suddenly changed. Like it was a delicious dinner aroma turned repugnant. Nearly ready to hurl, I quick-stepped my way out of the base. In the fresh air once more, I breathed deeply to help purify my dirtied lungs. Deeply breathing several times, encasing my organs in the sweet, earthy pine scent, I remained out there for a good while when the lead client came outside to visit.

“Sir! Apologies for being outside the base for so long. I needed to clear my lungs. I felt rather unwell all of a sudden,” I told the client.

My client, surely a royal youth, remained dressed in the same garment he had worn since the start of the expedition. Black-dyed leathers with fur-trims. A mask I thought made from porcelain covered his face. He wore no hat other than the hood he sometimes wore while out in the field. His mask strapped to the back of his head and so tangled in his hair were white-dyed leather straps. His hair was a wild and mangled style. I could not tell if his hair was untamed by intent or malpractice. This was all of my client I knew.

He said to me, “Worry not. You might actually sleep out here tonight. You continue to labor well for us. I know today was hard for you. Which is why you’ll be surprised to learn your term of service is ending.”

An electric shock, like magic, surged across every vein. “Sir? I was contracted for six-months. You are aware, of course, of there being a significant early cancellation fee?”

“I’m aware. You will be paid out in-full. Our aim here is nearly done, however. I have obligations to fulfill once my mission here is over. Therefore, this excursion is ending. Keep notice for your next assignment,” the lead client said before entering the base, leaving me locked outside.

It might have been dark, but at least it wasn’t cold, windy, or rainy.

Thunder-struck.

Rain followed.

And a fierce gale picked up.

What the shit? I asked myself, cursing for hardly the first time since I set upon this awful adventure.