[Say again?] Uhbras requested as she looked up from her desk.  Her claws had been skittering across the console built into it as she assessed her Unit’s scores from their last round of testing.  They hung, now still, in the air over the holographic keys.

The woman who spoke, Erjas’Elteub, laughed and waggled a handheld console in the air using a psychic lock, [There are only two more openings in the squad leader honors assessment.  Seal up happens tomorrow two hours past wake.]

Uhbras brought her left hand to her mouth and began to gnaw on her fingers, [Two slots?]

[Yes.  I can guarantee one stays open for a few more hours Uhbras,] she leaned over, using the desk as a prop, [But doing so is such work.  I may be a bit.  Heated,] she said, her voice in the Chorus, the hivemind of their species, reverberating with suggestion.

Uhbras stood suddenly and nodded to her, [Of course.  I will make an opening in my sleep schedule some time this week.  Thank you, Officer Erjas,] she said giving a respectful bow.

[Uhbras,] Erjas pouted, [I don’t want an appointment I want-]

Uhbras stopped her by cupping her face and pinching the base of her long knife-like ear.  Erjas cooed before Uhbras quickly left, her hand slipping away and causing Erjas to start.

[Please seal everything down for me!] Uhbras called back as she placed her hand on the wall.  Her Unit Leader’s coat slithered from a small aperture and formed itself around her shoulders. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to light fires under others instead of yourself, y’know,” Erjas said to the empty roomed before making a ‘what can you do’ gesture.  She quickly sent the stay open option for the test and signaled the room to shut down. 

Before she did, she glimpsed at the screen out of curiosity and gave a knowing smile.  Uhbras had been double checking the very person Erjas had thought of. 

The face of an older, boring looking man was displayed.  Ranked twentieth out of twenty in the Unit 14th.

[Agrin’Altia, what a lost cause to risk your career on,] Erjas thought before leaving the office and locking the door closed.

<><><> 

Uhbras walked with a polite, but focused gait.  Her dainty hooves made small clips as the hard soles of her boots sent her almost skipping along the pathways from her offices in the Standby division toward the Quarters area of their base.

She was a young Paladin, one of the two branches of the Elu’Jah Empire’s government.  Both military and law enforcement, the Paladins acted as the offensive hand of the Imperial Church.  She, and the base, were of the Order 95th, one of the eldest of the Paladinship.

Founded by the Unfailing Saint almost ten thousand years prior, the 95th was based in the colonial lands of the Border Marches.  The area circled the north, west, and south of the Holy Land, the center of the Empire. 

Uhbras had been born, despite not having a birth name, in the Holy Land and had requested to be transferred to the 95th.  Her ten years of basic training had coincided with the recent border skirmish with the Alliance to the east.  The 95th had been victorious, but at great cost. The majority of the Orders’ Elite, those who acted as commanders and leaders, had been gutted by way of shameful weapons and tactics.

Her own mentor had been nearly crippled by poison gas and giant monsters.  Uhbras paused and looked to where his office was located in the old Recruit Limb building.  She brought her hands together in prayer and said one for his many dead or lost comrades.

A passing pair of active elites sensed her and stopped to pray with her.  They whispered their prayers allowed and each said something unique, their words alternating from their three mouths.  When the prayers finished, they resumed walking, a polite bow from Uhbras to her superiors.

[For now,] she thought.  Uhbras was dedicated to advancement.  Her dream was to become an Executive of the Recon branch.  Her psychic communications, known as links to the Empire, were one of her most potent abilities.  She knew she would be invaluable there.

[But only as far as communications support,] she mused, [I must show I can lead and cultivate talent.  He must take this assessment.  He can definitely pass,] she continued.  Uhbras tried to fight the urge to bite her left fingers and failed, gnawing on them as she reached one of the tall spinning farm buildings.

She stopped and looked up at it.  Each level of the glass building slowly rotating.  From the tops and bottoms of the levels memory metal pillars formed to support the cross shaped wings as they spun out.  She could faintly taste the vegetables and fruits being grown as they were gathered and deposited into a sorting system on the far left of the building.

Her distraction caused her hair to lose some of his shape.  She quickly locked it back in place.  Uhbras drew her own console and activated its mirror function.  She looked at herself and nodded.

Uhbras was a Scholar caste osclant, the physically smallest of the diminutive species.  She was tall for her caste, standing just under one- and one-half meters.  Her hair was a dirty platinum, with blond layering.  It was cut short with one strand that came up behind her ear.  It was plastered to her cheek with a lock and reconnected to her bangs just to the side of her horn, framing the outside of her left eye.

Her horn was short and dense, splitting into a second growth near the tip.  It was white at the base but slowly turned a dark coral at the tips.  Her ears and claws shared the color.  Her eyes were large for her face, but they held ornate irises with an octagonal shape, a sign of exceptional potential within the Chorus.

She ran her tongue over her fangs and adjusted her Unit Head coat, so it sat on her slight frame well.  She patted her chest and made sure to count the ridges in her calcification which protected her organs.  Cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders, Uhbras tucked her arms behind her and tilted her head back.  With the poise of someone much higher ranked, Uhbras entered the farm and headed to the lift. 

The building was devoid of Osclants.  Only buddy drones whirled back and forth gathering ripened fruit and fertilizer to distribute.    One beeped at her and presented a fresh wing fruit.  The crisp skin of the wide fruit was still wet with its last misting.  Hungry, but not wanting to risk the juices on her uniform Uhbras took it and stowed it in her jacket.  A pocket formed and then sealed the fruit inside before evacuating the air with a silent hiss. 

Uhbras took a deep breath as she entered the lift and exhaled it through her nostrils as the doors closed.  She frowned when she felt some wisps of hair on the back of her neck flutter down.  She locked them back into place and checked her hair again, paying special attention to the loop on her face.  She tapped it and saw no movement.

It had taken some years to get enough concentration to keep it in place even when she was sleeping, but stress could make any lock or link fail.  She began to chew on her fingers again.

Talking to Agrin was an arduous task.  Like her, he was from the Holy Land.  That was where whatever similarities they had ended.  Uhbras had only half a name, due to the crime her mare committed that caused her birth.  Her sire’s clan had only taken her after her first Choral assessment at seventeen.  If she had not aced that exam, she would have become a ward of the Hostels until she was seventy.

Uhbras shuddered at the thought and returned to Agrin.

The lowest ranked member of their squad.  A deception if she ever saw one.  Uhbras had spent her entire life with her head bowed and quiet.  She knew when someone was faking a bad score on a test.  Her fingers twitched at her first attempt at a Calling Assessment.  If her stupid cousin Ymbag had not been participating she would have outpaced everyone in that-

Uhbras broke the skin of her knuckle and winced.  She had been grinding her fangs into the digit.  She cursed and made a quick hand sign with the wounded one.  Her coat responded by applying a healing mist and covering her hand with a glove.  She extended the glove on her other hand and wrapped it around her wrist. 

He was tarring his badge.  He deserved to be a squad leader.  Maybe even one of her support staff.  Yvror, her current Neck and second in command, had the scores but her cowardly streak was keeping her down.

[If Agrin would just help a little, we would not be the lowest unit in the Standbys,] she lamented.  She rolled her thumb against her index finger and squeezed her left wrist to keep from chewing on it again.  [We would already be active by now.  In a Limb working toward our dreams.  Toward our proper places.]

As Uhbras finally brought herself to calmness the lift stopped and gave her a psychic prod she had arrived.  She returned to the neutral pose of a superior and the doors opened.  As they did Uhbras froze, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open slightly.

The roof of the farm was a faux garden with artificial grass to mimic the Holy Land.  Agrin was standing on a bench, his body bent backward, as he sang a hymn.  He made no words, only distinct deep tones.  His mouth opened and sounds like bells and gongs exited.  She watched as his neck, and torso tensed with each intonation.

She was back in her child robes, less than a knee high.  She was staring at the great cathedral made to Elu’Jah and His six arms.  The priests of the temple sang as one guiding them to their assessments and their prayers.  She felt the joy of a new sermon, the camaraderie of a clan prayer. 

Her mouth filled with the taste of Saint Feast food.  Her hands felt the tacky coating of painting on robes and dresses for the clan parades.  She felt the brief touch of her caste ribbons in her hair.

And on Agrin’Altia sang.  His arms raised, his claws hooked in a come hither and welcoming way.  His hooves spread and bare, digging into the metal of the bench.

He had a massive smile on his face adding a unique lilt to the sounds.  He shook his head back and forth as he reached the conclusion.  With a dramatic flourish he fell to his knees, his uniform making padding to prevent any scrapes, and clasped his hands above his head, bowing it.

“And praise unto the Inoffensive hands, the left.  And praise unto the right hands, the Offensive.  Praise unto thee for thy guidance.  Hail unto Elu’Jah first above all,” he panted.  He lowered his arms and took gulps of air.  He wiped his mouth with his arm and let out a whoop of joy before suddenly noticing Uhbras.

[Unit Head,] he hopped off the bench and bowed, informally and not as deep as was the separation in their personal ranks would warrant, [I apologize for the display.]

Uhbras removed the surprise and emotion from her voice and moved toward him.  With each step she focused her sight on to him.  Releasing a breath his sermon had caught in her chest she formed a ring of mental attacks around him.

Links were methods of mental communication between Osclants.  With just a single metaphysical link, two Osclants could trade emotional information and speak coherently.  The Chorus made common links unnecessary as long as enough Osclants were around, but if a pair wished to speak privately or over a particularly long distance, the link was needed.

Uhbras’ intention was not to speak to Agrin, as one of her subordinates she had dedicated a permanent connection to him.  These links were targeting the information centers of his brain.  She wanted to know about him.

Agrin was her elder, by a wide margin.  He could easily be one hundred and fifty years old, but she doubted he was any older.  The normal ageing that hits a male osclant at late middle age was not visible.  No wrinkles at the edge of his ears or between his fingers.  His claws were still curved, and his hooves had no sign of greying.

He also had the physical build of a laborer caste in their prime.  Wide shouldered and taller than her by a head, Agrin was physically intimidating.  His arms and legs had clear definition.  Uhbras did not go to the same training college as Agrin, so she did not know if it was from the combat training or his clan’s preferred augmentations.

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He had with creamy blonde hair that had strips of gold.  His coloring was a faint powdery blue that sprinkled down his ears and horn.  His eyes were a contrasting dark pooling green with slightly rounded square irises.  She wondered if they were natural?

The color of an Osclant denoted their born purity.  Lighter colors and more ornate pupils denoted genetic lines of once noble Osclant houses.  Despite their culture being actively forced to ignore these indicators after the Last Crusade and their subsequent folding into the Dominion, deep rooted voices spoke of it through the Chorus, coloring the thoughts of the people. 

Even with these features what always drew Uhbras’ eye was Agrin’s extensive tattoos.  His uniform had been molded to reflect the commonly open chested robes of some priests, showing off Agrin’s ink.  They began at his neck and travelled down his entire body, covering him completely.  Only the palms of his hands, his chest and stomach, and his face were bare. 

Each part of his body had different meanings.  She had learned this sometime last year after he had accidently revealed his clan reared animals.  Horses, specifically.  The denomination he followed, Eltra’Ednord Denomination if she remembered correctly, believed the body a canvas and a better representation of honor and shame, than the Chorus.

His neck and torso were for his clan and achievements within.  The tattoos around his neck and shoulders were his wedding band and a family tree.  If Uhbras believed it, and she had some doubt, Agrin had sired five children.  A statistical impossibility, especially considering that he had supposedly done so with the same woman, his wife.

[Whose name you also keep closely guarded from me,] Uhbras commented to herself.

His arms were for achievement.  The left was for personal or ambivalent and the right was for caste.  She saw the mark that denoted Agrin’s previous calling as a Vestment.  They were the second half of the Empire’s government, the priests and law makers of their nation.  Transfer between them and the Paladinship was not uncommon, but Agrin’s age would indicate he should have been higher ranked.

[Priest to soldier transfers are one to one?] she questioned herself softly.

His face fell from the kind smile he had and became impassive, a tell he was trying to hide information from her, [Not in every circumstance,] he said.  No openings. 

Agrin’s eyes momentarily lit up with electric green energy.  He circled them around himself and made note of the sphere of attacks Uhbras had surrounded him in.  He was impressed that her count had increased since the last time they had a little verbal spar.  He was almost proud of the little unit head.

[That sermon was quite moving,] Uhbras admitted freely, [It is one of the reasons your squad leader has pressed you to take over our religious duties,] she pressed.

[Squad leader Ivgla’Igveun honors me,] Agrin said with faint, and seemingly false, praise, [I would feel it is beyond my station to do so for our entire unit.]  He added mentally, [Also, it is too easy to become the Faith Support for the unit head if your sermons are universally preferred.]

[Leaving your unit with another empty pulpit informs badly on all of us, not just you, Agrin,] she said sharply.

He frowned showing a bit of teeth, [I understand,] he said.  He quickly sealed the bubbling emotion off as several of her attacks wiggled in anticipation.

“More careful,” he thought to himself. 

Uhbras thought she saw the mental flicker in Agrin’s defenses.  She cursed inwardly when she missed it.  Agrin was always on guard, always hiding.  She could try making him upset or emotional.  He normally trended toward anger.  However.  If she could just push him a bit more.

[There is to be another Squad Leader assessment,] Uhbras finally said after they regarded each other for a few seconds.  [Its contents are primarily command and structure based.  There is a combat section, and it is more heavily weighted. As all combat assessments have been,] she added with some aggravation.

Their unit was more geared toward support and logistics.  The focus on combat by Head Elva’Edkaoh had been a nail in their hooves since they were formed.  Agrin’s squad mates and leader were the only ones with above average combat scores, if barely.  If she could push them a little higher.

He bit his upper lip and did not raise his head, [You honor me beyond my station, unit head.  I would not waste the time of my superiors participating.]

“Overly humble argument.  But.  Careful.  No emotion.  Especially frustration.  She’s trying to unbalance me.  If she does attack, keep the shield simple, no need to harm the child for being petulant,” he thought softly.

[How many of these assessments have you taken, unit member, Agrin’Altia?] she asked as she moved to stand behind the bench.  She linked to a star gazing console and watched as energy lines from the Storm Scar travelled across the sky.

[I have not taken more than-] he began.

[Four,] she interrupted him. He made a small noise with his mouth and Uhbras focused on it.  “You do not like to be interrupted?  Did I not notice that before?” she asked herself.  [You have taken four.  And each you failed,] her tone was accusatory.  She knew Agrin could detect the intent.  She made sure the intention was clear.  She was not accusing him of being not good enough.

[I believe that indicates that I should-]

[I doubt the voracity of the results,] she interrupted him.

Again.

Agrin rolled his tongue over his fangs, [As much as it honors me, the confidence you have in me. It would be prudent to think of our standing,] Agrin suggested.  [Another failure on me could hamper the Unit as much if not more than myself not participating.]

Rank denoted where an Osclant sat in the vastness of the Hivemind.  An Osclant’s rank is determined by a mixture of their honor and shame and is weighted based on dozens of factors determined by the Vestmentary.  Uhbras, for example, received more honor for her successes as she was considered little more than a vat grown, the lowest rung of their society.

Within each clan and order where Units and within them, squads.  The ranks of each were both a combination of their individual members rank, and the achievements the unit or squad performed as a whole.  As a gathering of Osclants rises in rank so to do they grow in political power, receive a greater stipend from the Imperial government, and receive a more blissful existence after dying.

It was the goal of the Elu’Jah religion, the Empire, and the purpose of the Chorus itself to guide Osclants upwards towards greater ranks.  Agrin’s attempt to voice his worthlessness, in respect to such assessments, was proper. 

However, if Uhbras was right that he was faking his incompetence, the implied shame was weighty.  An Osclant could lie as much as they want.  There was no social or moral fault for it.  If there was some proof of him intentionally hiding his ability and Uhbras or Ivgla could not prove they did not know, it could sink the entire unit.

She began to walk around to his front, taking her time with each step, [You have contributed much to our current standing.  We all have, in truth.]  Agrin watched her with one eye, the other staring at the ground.

Earnest emotion came from her.  A weakness in her psyche.  He could feel her concern for their Unit’s low rank.  They were the lowest ranked of the fifteen inactive Elite Corps Units.  This put them behind their peers in work orders, offerings, and chances to become active, and complete, Paladins in the order.

Agrin did not believe, or more did not want to admit, how greatly those four failures of his contributed to their decline.

Uhbras stopped at his right side, beyond reach.  He locked his right eye on her.  Her Unit leader badge glimmered under her collar at the base of her throat.

[Deprecation is needed only when one is too arrogant to observe superiority earnestly] he said trying to distract her form her original request. 

[This assessment is to be before a new shipment of recruits and transfers filters in,] she began. 

Agrin nodded but was surprised to hear about another allotment of recruits, “I did not think they were in such dire need already.  The Skirmish has only just officially been ended.  Rebuilding the civilian centers should take priority.  New bodies and all these combat tests.  What is that lunatic Elva doing?” he thought.

[This is an excellent chance for advancement.  We can push ourselves into consideration for active status,] Uhbras said excitedly. 

He could taste the eagerness in her Chorus.  Their Unit had been waiting to be made active for three years.  That amount of time for the switch between Standby and Active was unusual, but with every Limb emptied of leadership it was not difficult to see why.  If nothing else, it had encouraged a higher degree of competition between the units.

He tried to dissuade her again, [I do not see how taking such an assessment would-]

[Your skills in combat alone would grant us a pass,] Uhbras interrupted.  She made a dismissive gesture, completely ignoring what he just said.  She had begun to pace back and forth in front of him.  Agrin made a small sound of frustration as he tried to reassert his point. 

[Combined with your lock abilities I doubt anyone can triumph over you,] she continued, ignoring him.

[Unit Head,] he tried raising his head.

[Further, there are rumors that the Master Support staff are taking a more active role in designing these assessments.  If you pass one of the tests, they were directly involved in we could receive additional honor,] she continued.  [If no honor, then they will make note of you or the unit.  Their eyes are sure to be on us as the elders.]

[Uhbras,] he insisted, raising to his full height. 

He towered over her and approached.  She rambled more, furthering the idea of him taking the assessment.  The assessment he had asserted he was not good enough for.  The assessment she wanted him to take for no purpose other than the Unit’s rank.  The assessment he had emphatically explained was not good for him.  Why was she not listening?

“Uhbras!” he snapped. 

She stopped and looked at him, her eyes wide and her ears drooping as she heard his speaking voice.  Most Osclants have a hoarse and dry voice from lack of use.  Agrin’s had weight and volume from his time as a priest where prolonged boisterous sermons were daily affairs.  The sermon he had just sung had not dampened or weakened it at all.  In fact, it increased the strength of his words.

“I feel as though you are not taking my previous performance properly in mind.  It would be a shamefully arrogant act for me to make a fifth attempt with no successes on my record,” he said, stepping forward. 

She frowned at him, [Yes,] she said, her voice souring in his mind, [If we take only your assessments into account.  I am taking your competitive scores during exercises.  Your age and obvious training,] she motioned her hands toward his arms. 

Agrin wrapped a hand around his elbow, which included his lock accreditations.  He quickly reformed his uniform into its standard shape.  The exposed skin was covered within seconds.

[You look to my past, prior to my Paladinship.  That is not to be done,] Agrin snarled, turning so his left side was facing her.  [It goes against the purpose of the rank reset between callings.]

She straightened herself and reasserted her position, [I know fully the limits of consideration for prior rank, Agrin.  Especially considering your squad.  You can be a much greater boon to our Unit if you would apply half the will to those assessments as you do to pretending you are just a failed priest,] Uhbras snapped back. 

“If you are accusing me of something…” Agrin menaced.  His voice grew low, and he raised himself up further.

Her response was to frown and narrow her eyes slightly, catching how he trailed off.  They stood, him over her, and her staring back, for a few seconds before Uhbras took a quick turn, putting her back to him.  She would have to cede this point.

Again.

[I would never accuse an Elder, with such a storied history, of such,] she said finally.  She pulled her arms into the small of her back in the neutral pose of an Elite.  [Lack of ability,] she hissed.

She turned back to face him.  He almost recoiled by the sudden rush of Choral might directed at him.  Uhbras had triggered a wave of attacks to his mind, thinking it vulnerable now that he was acting emotional.  A barrage of links, more than double the initial sphere, rolled toward him.

Agrin cursed and focused on Uhbras’ face.  The faint contours of the forelock along her cheek.  The thin line of her mouth.  The way her eyes widened when she was asking questions and thinking.  He noticed the left eye was slightly darker than the right.  A sign of some sort of trauma?  The inspection gave him solidarity, a foundational point.  He felt her attacks ping off of his mental defenses like pebbles to a mountain.

[What are you hiding from me?  Your superior.  Your unit head?] she asked.  Her voice echoed in his mind it sounded more baritone and had a grating edge to it.  The effect was impressive, but something any Elite corps hopeful would need to learn.  If an osclant was vat grown or an Infantry corps member it would increase the effect of her attempts.

To Agrin it was just annoying.

He took a few steps closer to her pushing against her attacks with his own.  The grass reacted at the force of their wills being squashed into clumps at the apex of their mental dual.  Agrin saw lines of green electricity arc across his wave.  Hers was a wall of grey colorless void.  It was so dull and weak Agrin missed the occasional bursts of turquoise from within it.

[I would prefer if this line of logic be abandoned, unless you wish to formally accuse me of something,] he growled. 

[You think I would have the audacity, the sheer rudeness] she said without reacting to his advance, [to say you are tarring your badge?]

Agrin sucked in breath through his teeth.  His lips curled back to reveal his white and clean fangs, “Do not say that,” he ordered.  Each word came out of his mouth slow and deadly, his voice little more than a whisper.

[It was just confirming how rude it would be to say, elder.  Of course, you are not.  How could I ever think it?] Uhbras replied.  Agrin was so focused on her face, he didn’t catch her grab her left hand with her right and squeeze it.  [It appears that interrupting your prayers for such a sensitive subject was ill advised.  I will await your final formal answer to the assessment,] she said, finality in her words.  [The cut off is tomorrow after waking.]

Agrin continued to hover over her, his eyes boring into hers.  After a few moments he blinked and straightened.  He realized she had retracted her lines of attack and had reinforced her own defenses against his own.  When had she done that?  Swallowing and bowing he backed away from her and returned to crouching in the grass.  He rescinded his attacks and fought back a ball of self-loathing in his throat.

[My apologies, Unit Head.  That was shameful of me,] he said, staring into the grass, clenching his fists on his knees.

[It would have been, had this been a formal discussion.  Keep to your tune, Member Agrin’Altia,] she said with a sharp turn from him towards the exit.

[You as well, Unit Head, Uhbras], Agrin growled to himself as he dug his fingers into the soft shallow soil and pulled a clod out.  He crushed it between his hands into a dense little orb of dirt.  With as much strength as he could muster, he threw it, the ball trailing bits of grass and faint green electricity.

<><><> 

Uhbras stood in the lift and waited for the doors to close.  As they did, she released a shuddering breath and raised her left hand to her mouth and began to chew on her fingers.  She quickly made a lock on her own body to keep from falling over.  The exertion on that exchange caused her guts to roil.

“Going alone was stupid.  You were stupid,” she spat at herself. 

A small alert from her command console caused her to start.  She locked it to her free hand and looked at the screen.  Erjas had sent her a message.  It was an apology.  The last two places had been filled. 

Uhbras cursed and dug her fangs into the joints of her fingers.  She felt the skin begin to rip again and growled. Angrily pulling them free she stared at the damp fabric and rubbed them with her free hand. 

[A little further.  Just a little further and I never have to worry about going back,] she chanted to herself.  Slowly her hands came together in prayer, and she fell to one knee, her head bowed.  [Elu’Jah, Head above all, may your hands guide me.  Forward, only forward.]

Her silent prayer continued even as the lift reached the lobby of the farm.  The drones did not react as she kept praying until she was able to move again.