After three days, Symbal had just about finished his inspections of the Brigantine and was nearly ready to start overhauling its systems and facilities—to, as he said, “bring everything up to the minimal standards of life, safety, and tolerability.”

Josh had to laugh. He was sure he would do the same thing when the time came for Sophie to leave home. He had never thought it would be on the scale of a city-sized spaceship, but such a thing was seeming less and less unlikely with each passing day.

Alysa couldn’t help but get a little pink around the ears whenever she realized how many changes and how much investment the Hegemon-4 was putting into the Brigantine for their sakes. Josh found that as funny as she found it embarrassing.

From what Sen had said, the Clone could wave his hand and bring twenty Brigantines, or Hegemon-4’s for that matter, into being. Why go through the dog and pony show of making the mortals run around when Immortals could do everything they could and more easily at that? Josh’s gut told him Karma would favor the efforts of mortal activity for actions in the mortal Iterations, which would give whatever parameters were being calculated the Clone’s probability determinations of their success an increased bump.

Their meeting with Symbal to go over the changes was tomorrow and he promised it would take no more than two to three standard Ka nexus sept-gyro to get the job done right. Naron Shamla, the forward section’s head engineer, was constantly following on Symbal’s heels every second of every day. Josh was pretty sure that it was due to Naron’s status of still being out of Symbal’s good graces for his failures on their last trans-ship transfer of supplies.

Symbal had ensured Naron understood that the installations his crew would be responsible for were for the safety of Alysa and that any failure would be... “Catastrophic for both your career and for yourself on a deeply personal level.”

At Symbal’s words, Naron’s tongue nervously flickered to his eyes one hundred and twenty times a minute as he closely listened to Symbal’s demands. If the poor Vergei didn’t have a stroke from the pressure, they were all sure everything would work out just fine.

There was also the issue of who would be coming with them. Alysa was responsible for their security and planned to bring several regiments of hand-picked space marines. This was why Josh was surprised when Ishan had asked to speak with both him and Sen. But when the senior chief asked for a meeting, Josh and Sen tended to be all ears. The Affin wasn’t known for wasting people’s time.

They met Ishan at Hutan Huja, a well-respected, but out-of-the- way, post-shift watering hole for the crews of the forward section. Deep in the Affin Quarter, the restaurant featured terraced seating and private booths overlooking the vast rainforest Josh and Sen had been transported across when the Clone had first brought them aboard. The proprietor, an elderly Macaque Affin, standing no more than three feet tall, bowed low and escorted them to the most secluded table in the highest private tier. She sat them at a small table next to Ishan and Lobo and turned away silently after leaving two more steel cups and bowing out. As she passed the threshold, she quickly pressed a button on the wall and an opaque privacy screen dropped over the open portal. Ishan nodded to her appreciatively and pulled a bottle from his pouch.

It smoked slightly as he pulled the cork out with his teeth and gave each of them a healthy jot in their cups. “I hope you don’t mind, sirs. My private stash of Razor Whisky has a better kick than most places can provide on the Hegemon-4, even here at Huja’s place.”

They shook their heads and downed the shot along with Lobo and Ishan.

With cheeks puffing from the pyroclastic alcoholic eruption going off inside their mouths, vomer, and frontal lobes, they looked at Ishan in shock. Josh and Sen had the density of uranium but would still think twice about drinking Ishan’s booze that fast again. After a few seconds, the volcano stopped exploding and there was just a mild forest fire going off inside them that was actually quite pleasant.

Ishan smiled with a mouth full of fangs.

“Good, isn’t it?” He poured himself and Lobo another shot, then offered them one as well.

They both accepted but decided to only sip it from here on out.

Ishan had a regeneration inducer covering his left wrist and just above—at this point, his mostly regrown left paw. The white device shed gold and silver lights as it seemed to hum faintly, though not to any physical senses.

Sen nodded toward Ishan’s paw. “Senior, wouldn’t it have been faster to have them clone you a new hand and surgically reattach it?”

Ishan looked down at the healing paw and hardware as he answered, “Well... aye, sir. It would have been, but I’ve always insisted on healing instead of replacement in regards to injuries to this arm.” He paused and looked at Lobo before continuing, “Which is actually on topic for the reason I asked you to come here. There needs to be truth between us.”

Ishan removed the growth inducer off his still-forming nascent left paw. He swallowed and looked around at the closed off area as if expecting someone to pop out of one of their mugs. He tilted his head in a what-the-heck-here-goes-nothing gesture if Josh had ever seen one. Holding his infantile hand up, he seemed to concentrate briefly before his nascent, regrowing paw suddenly regrew as fast or maybe faster than Josh or Sen could have managed.

The Tiger Affin looked up a bit guiltily at their wide-eyed looks that spoke volumes of their previous suspicions. “Yes. I’m a Cultivator. Until now, I felt it was, for myself—and everyone around me—best to keep that information compartmentalized and based on the little I know about my past...” His tone deepened, even for him. “It still may be best to do so.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Josh and Sen leaned forward as one, and both moved to speak.

Ishan held up his healed paw to silence them again and spoke in a firm tone. “That’s not all, sirs. Please indulge me for one more moment.”

He held his left arm out to the side and Lobo began shaving the thick orange and black fur from his forearm with a mechanical clipper.

Josh and Sen, not quite sure what to make of what was happening but trusting the senior with their lives, sat and sipped their Razor with slightly raised eyebrows.

After a few seconds, Ishan nodded to Lobo, who put the clippers away. Ishan brushed the stray hairs from the limb and held up his forearm to them, revealing the bald spot. Raising an identi-light, Lobo clicked the activator and illuminated the arm with a soft glow like Myrina had used to reveal her hidden inscriptions.

Josh’s thoughts whirled at recognizing the hardware. He was almost not surprised when the letters he and Sen saw appeared in the same place as their inscriptions.

SUNDAI – O –

Quickly covering his arm with his rolled-up sleeve, Ishan leaned into the table and spoke in barely a whisper. “Sirs... I need you to help me find my family.”

The weight of the Affin’s revelation was a drumbeat that echoed in Josh and Sen’s ears.

* * * * *

If he was being honest, Zenyak was feeling his age. While it was technically impossible for Immortals to age, or even feel old, he still remembered what being a human mortal had felt like all those billions of years ago. In fact, he had made the effort to remember those feelings during his entire mortal Cultivation, as well as in his Transcended existence.

But, my Path hasn’t been a typical one, has it?

Unlike most others, Zenyak hadn’t started down his life as a young scion of a powerful family of Cultivators. Quite the opposite, in fact. His beginnings had been more akin to those of a starving orphan. Born in an Essence-deprived galaxy within an Essence-poor iteration, he hadn’t even learned of the Path of One until he had been, by all accounts—an old man. But he had always thought that keeping the reality of his origins close at hand would help him remember his favorite saying from his long-forgotten people.

Never count somebody out until the fat lady sings.

It had been true in his life and was true of others’ who walked the Path of One. To assist his humble remembrance, Zenyak had continued manifesting his former aged appearance whenever a physical avatar was required. This mindset had prevented him from underestimating his rivals as well as overestimating his own—admittedly significant capabilities. This mindset had served to preserve his mortal life and later—his Immortal existence in dire circumstances on more than one occasion.

Though all of that had been nothing as cataclysmic or dire as our circumstances presently. Zenyak’s thoughts continued focusing on their darkly ironic situation. There is little chance that anyone could possibly underestimate the deadliness Oblivion poses as it crushes down upon us... If anything, we are paralyzed by the realization that there is no escape—no rescue to deliver us from our impending Fate.

The Penultimate Combatant looked up at the other two Paramount Immortals as they joined him in the Way—the space between the Iterations, both mortal and Immortal. The deep-blue glow of spiritual strength reflected off of each of their representations.

The Prime Motivator’s youthful avatar—usually so full of optimism and vibrancy, was downcast. What was even more concerning to Zenyak was that Chiteki had opted to join him, standing on the firmament of the Way instead of floating in some bizarre rotational pattern as was his primary mode of appearance. The entity—only known as the Principal Master, was presently avatarless—choosing to attend in his usual form of an immensely dense field of Immortal Ka. Felt, instead of seen, was definitely his preference.

They were gathered to hear what Chiteki had learned from the completion of his most recent application of Transcendental Omniscience, AKA—Knowing All. It was his unique, and in Zenyak’s opinion—rather overachieving Path to surmounting Immortal Transcendence into the completely unknown Ascendance. Chiteki’s infinite knowledge base aside, he had confirmed what Zenyak had already believed would be true.

“Oblivion’s path of consumption has changed from ponderous and broadly applied to linear. It is making an unmistakably direct line of assault for the heart of your Hegemony...” The Prime Motivator’s lilting voice was hesitant and trailing off at the end.

Zenyak was reminded that having a suspicion and having a terrible Fate confirmed by the most informed existence in all of reality, were really two very different things. The Penultimate Combatant had to suppress his initial and childish response of immediately Ascending with his remaining Cultivation and leaving the rest of Reality to fend for itself.

Forcing composure, he instead asked dryly, “How long?”

Chiteki raised his eyes from his rarely standing feet and faced Zenyak. “At this rate, the Polar Neutral Iteration will be eradicated in less than two Ka-nexus rotations. Oblivion is already past the fortieth Aspect Doorway. It will soon fall upon Iterations populated with spirit beings...”

So little time! How has everything come to this? Zenyak’s thoughts crashed upon him.

Determined not to have his last actions of import be based in panic, Zenyak put a wry smile on his avatar. “Is it time to enact our final option, old friends?”

Chiteki closed his eyes and nodded once, leaving his avatar’s face hanging in acceptance. The Principle Master had always been the most stoic of them, and simultaneously the most upfront in his thoughts. As such, it was no surprise when he pointed out the thing Zenyak was doing his utmost to hide, even from himself.

“Old companion, your Ka is not as at peace with this decision as is ours. Have you decided at the end of all things to defy what we all know to be the most probable chance of success?”

Zenyak’s avatar sighed. “You were always the most perceptive of us, Principal Master. Yet I do disagree with what you say regarding Probability. There is no guarantee that we will push back Oblivion if we follow through with one of our last options of detonating our Cultivations to create an iterational dead zone from the rupture in the Way. Even if it does, there is no certainty that Oblivion will not eventually find a way through that gap. It may yet return to Reality to find us long gone and no one standing in its path—a true and ultimate failure! These facts will never sit well with me!”

The Principle Master acknowledged Zenyaks words, if not his conclusions. Chiteki also nodded singly again, confirming what Zenyak said was a true possibility. Still, young seeming avatar or no, the Prime Motivator knew everything in all of Reality, and he pointed out the harsh truths imbued with the wisdom of ultimate knowledge.

“Indeed. We may very well accomplish Oblivion’s work for it, potentially resulting in a worse outcome for vast parts of the multiverse.” That was true. None could deny it. But there was no point in repeating arguments voiced from previous tongues.

Instead, Zenyak cut to the quick. “Our true strength lies in concerted action; I will not go against our majority decision. Still, I have always believed it would be better to fail swinging my axes with as much strength as I can bring, not placing hope in uncertainty. I know you feel the same way.” Zenyak shut down his perception and waited for their objections. None came.

He opened his senses and saw the gleam in Chiteki’s eyes. He felt the resonance in the Principal Master’s Ka.

He had played the devil and opened the door for their desires, nonetheless, they had walked through with him of their own free will. Still he gave them one last chance to back out.

“What say you?”

No answer was required.

The three Paramounts stirred their Intentions into action and began absorbing Power.

THE END

Josh & Sen Save the Multiverse Book Two: Karma and Bigger Fish

Come adventure with Josh & Sen again in:

Love/Undeath & Robots