Valiant

[Valiant #27: Reunion]

Log Date: 9/4/12764

Data Sources: Feroce Acceso

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Halomor Orbital Elevator: Bottom Ring

12:52pm SGT

“I’m just saying that it feels like you're leading me into a dead-end where I’ll be forced to fight.” I mutter through gritted teeth as I make my way through a dingy metal corridor and down a flight of stairs. Behind me at some distance, there’s the sound of several boots scuffing over the grated floors.

“Look, do you want my help or not?” Legaci demands through my earbud. “Cut me some slack. Halomorian isn’t exactly known for being a bastion of precise record-keeping. The whole system is owned by pirates and crime syndicates. I was able to get the general blueprint of the elevator ring out of the Mercurial government’s records, but I can’t attest for any design changes that were made to this specific orbital elevator.”

“Alright, fair enough, but we’re still like twenty minutes from reaching the bottom, and there's a growing horde of fanboys on my tail.” I mumble as I reach the bottom of the stairs, which open out into a wider hall.

“Fanboys?”

“I’m being facetious. They’re prolly mercenaries, or bounty hunters, or… something.” I answer, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder as I hear a cascade of boots coming down the stairs. “Alright, the end of this hall T’s off to either side. Where am I going?”

“Well, on the blueprint, the ends of the T just wrap around the ring in a circle, so you could just walk around that circle for the next ten minutes.”

“Legaci, they might be criminals, but I don’t think they’re stupid enough to follow me in a circle for twenty minutes. Eventually they’re gonna get wise and send half of their group around the other side of the circle to trap me, and I do not want to get caught fighting twenty-some gritspitters in a narrow hallway.”

“Only twenty? Them’s rookie numbers, Songbird.”

“What is wrong with you? It’s almost like you want me to fight!”

“Every time you clobber the shit out of a bunch of bad guys, it’s a boost for our image in the public. And you can’t tell me you don’t like smacking around the scum of society and their diabolical overlords.”

“Just because I’m capable of clobbering the everliving Anaya out of people doesn’t mean I like doing it. I fight necessary fights. Wiping the floor with a bunch of randos is not a necessary fight.” I say as I start to come up on the end of the hall. “Do you have a way out for me, or am I gonna have to square up?”

“Well, do you feel like crawling like ventilation shafts today?”

“Are you giving me a choice?” I ask as I reach the end of the hall, glancing left and right.

“Of course it’s a choice. You can turn and fight, or you can crawl through ventilation shafts for the next twenty minutes.”

I glance over my shoulder. There’s a pretty sizable group of muscle with criminal intentions sauntering in my direction. “Oh, screw it. Can you find me an open space? I don’t want to fight twenty guys in close confines.”

There’s a click as the door immediately across the hall unbolts. “Right in front of you.”

“Why do I get the feeling this is what you wanted all along?” I mutter, moving to the door and hitting the access pad. The door splits and slides to either side, and I step through into what appears to be a control room — the far wall is divided into reinforced glass panes that slant inwards towards the floor, providing a view of the surface of Halomor as the orbital elevator descends the tether that bridges the divide between the ground and low orbit. To my right are consoles to manage the elevator’s rate of descent, and its braking and ascent mechanisms. A single engineer is behind the consoles, and looks up from them as I step in.

“You’re not supposed to be in here—” the engineer begins.

“Where you think you’re goin’, buddy?” the foremost gritspitter calls as he crosses into the room. Like many of those following behind him, he’s wearing a Mercurial mining jacket, his clothes looking worn and his boots scuffed.

I turn around, holding my hands up as I back into the room. “Look, man, I don’t want any trouble—”

“You hear that, fellas? He came to Halomorian, but he doesn’t want trouble!” the lead guy calls over his shoulder to the others as they start to filter into the control room. Many of them let off chuckles. “Spare us the shit. You might’ve dyed your hair a different color, but the whole galaxy knows what your face looks like, Songbird.”

I drop my hands, flinching as one of them walks by and swats the hood of my longcoat off my head. I’d shifted the prismatic nanites in my hair to reflect red light, in hopes that it’d be enough to make me less recognizable, but after the incidents on Soiruxia and Talingrad…

I’d more or less kissed my anonymity goodbye.

“C’mon, guys.” I say, still backing up towards the windows as the gritspitters start to fan out across the control room. “Do you really want to do this? You know it’s not gonna end well, and what would you even get out of it?”

“Well, there’s the bounty money.” an elf woman in the group points out as she reaches into her jacket.

I scratch an eyebrow. “Okay well, I guess that’s fair, but c’mon, is the bounty money really worth risking your health and well-being? You’ll probably be spending a lot of it on medical bills once I’m done with you.”

“Trust us, there’ll be plenty left over after that.” says an ox Halfie, who articulates his point by cracking his knuckles.

“Oh, c’mon, it can’t be that much, can it?” I chuckle uneasily as the heel of my boot knocks against one of the glass windows.

The lead guy shrugs. “Five hundred million creds goes a long way, y’know?”

I stop and gape at him. “Five hundred what?”

“Vaunted can put up a pretty sum for the galaxy’s most wanted man.” he says, scratching at his scruffy jawline. “And it’s big enough that we can split it twenty ways and everyone should be happy with their share. Enough to get a nice little place out in Chaitakoma and retire.”

“That’s… that’s literally half a billion credits.” I say in disbelief. “Jeezus, that’s a lot of money. Can I turn myself in and collect the bounty?”

The lead guy gives me a look. “I don’t think that’s how it works, buddy.”

“He’s stalling.” one of the other gritspitters calls, pulling out a buzz baton. “If you let him, he’s just gonna keep running his mouth.”

“Hey, not in here!” the engineer shouts from behind his console. “Take it outside! Y’all ain’t gonna be pullin' this shit near the controls!”

The elf woman, who’s pulled a plasma pistol out of her jacket, lifts it and shoots the engineer. Sparks fly as he’s thrown back on the floor with a smoldering crater in his chest. “Go close the door.” she orders to one of the gritspitters in the back.

One of them moves to the access pad, but as the halves are sliding shut, a hand catches on the edge and stops it from closing. There’s a whining from the gears in the door as it’s forced open, one last person in a hoodie stepping through. The gritspitter that had gone to close the door moves to apprehend the newcomer, but that same hand comes up to grab his head, slamming it against the doorframe and then shoving him back through the door before closing behind themselves.

The lead guy looks around at the newcomer. “You mind? We’re in the middle of something here.”

“Uh, Legaci?” I murmur quietly. “Did you send me backup?”

“Backup?” Legaci answers, sounding confused. “We haven’t activated any assets in the Halomorian System. You’re the one that wanted this to be a solo mission.”

“Okay, just checking.” I mumble.

“Well, I heard something about you all trying to catch my darling and turn him in for a bounty.” the newcomer says, sliding her hood off and revealing a shock of green hair, with a couple of long locks left to frame her face, and the rest pulled back in a messy ponytail.

If my heart could beat, then it would’ve stopped at that moment.

“Oh, so you’re with him?” the elf woman says, motioning her plasma pistol at me.

Kiwi grins, staring across the room at me. “Unless he’s found another girlfriend in the last six months.”

“No!” The word is out of my mouth immediately, impulsively, like an involuntary, knee-jerk reflex. “I mean— well yeah, no! But I thought you were… you said three months, back at the Cradle…”

“Yeah, the Council had other ideas…” Kiwi begins.

“Wait, hold up.” the ox Halfie, says, squinting between the two of us. “You’re tellin’ me the most wanted man in the galaxy’s got a gal?”

The elf woman snorts. “You surprised he can get bitches when you can’t even catch a blind date?”

“Hey! Focus!” the lead guy shouts, starting to dig a stunner out of his jacket. “You lovebirds can catch up with each other on the ride out to the Arcturact. There’s more than one cell on the cargo runner that we’ll be putting you on. You can be next-door neighbors.”

Kiwi smirks, and shrugs her hoodie off with that. She’s got on cargo pants, combat boots, and a black, sleeveless, tight-fitting turtleneck that bares her arms and her shoulders. Normally I wouldn’t think much of it, but I can see there are rune circles on her shoulders now, just like there are around her wrists — and all four sets of runes are glowing and lifting off her skin, forming circles around her wrists and over her shoulders.

I raise a hand, pressing a knuckle against my lips as I take that in. “Alright. That’s new.”

“I got a promotion.” she explains, curling her hands into fists. Her runemarks expand, reconfiguring into glassy panes of green light that form mechanized gauntlets running all the way up to her shoulders. “You got some good music for me, Blueberry?”

The corner of my mouth twitches a little as I reach down and hook my ninjato hilts off my beltline. “I’ve picked up a few bangers in the last six months.” I say, igniting both starglass blades. The set of runemarks wrapped around my wrist have started to glow blue, and Kiwi doesn’t bother speaking her reply, letting me feel it through our link instead.

Let’s hear it, then.

I grin. “Hey Legaci, you mind putting on some music for me?”

Legaci’s sigh is long and drawn out. “Sure. What do you want?”

“Shake And Bake, by Plastic Birds. Crank the volume to… mmm, sixty-five.” I say, twisting out of the way as the first stunner pulse races by me, crackling against the far window. As the electric guitar opens the intro, I jerk one of my swords up to block a buzz baton, while using the other one to slap one of the gritspitters on the side of the head. “And that should be all. I’ll get back to you in another three minutes or so.”

“Oooh, look who’s Mr. Confidence now that his girlfriend’s showed up.”

I don’t dignify it with a reply, because 1) I’m busy trying not to get dogpiled by a dozen thugs, 2) too distracted for witty banter right now, and 3) the first verse just kicked in and I’m starting to feel the energy churn through my veins. It’s vibrant, electric, and as it works its way through my body, I channel some of it down to my feet to launch myself off the ground. Spinning the air, I plant my boot firmly against the forehead of the first thug I see, and start footstooling my way across the heads and shoulders of the gritspitters swarming me.

Welcome to hell’s kitchen

Lemme show ya what we’re fixin’

It’s ten minutes til five

Dinner’ll eat you alive

Yeah it’ll be hard

So go punch your card

An’ get yo’self a menu

We got some work to do

“Hey, don’t mean to rain on your parade, but I was kinda expectin’ a little more than this!” Kiwi calls across the room as she blocks a couple plasma bolts with her gauntlets, then grabs a guy by the head and slams him into the ground as she ducks into a forward roll. She springs into a rising uppercut as she comes out of the roll, catching the ox Halfie right in the midsection as she does so; the gauntlet brightens, then discharges a displacement ripple that slams him into the ceiling hard enough to leave a dent.

“I only got one earbud in!” I shout back at her, leaning my head out of the way of a knuckleduster punch, then grab the thug’s arm to pull him in so he can take my elbow to the chin. As he reels from that, I yank him back in again so I can swing my arm down, bashing him in the forehead with the hilt of my sword. “I’m not completely amped, and you’re suckin’ up half the energy I’m generaAATING—”

My voice goes out as I’m whacked in the back with something that I suspect is a buzz baton, based on the painful voltage that’s seeping through me. Gritting my teeth, I ignite my other ninjato, flip both of them around, and stab both of them behind me, rewarded with the sound of a grunt. Rolling my shoulder, I turn around to see there’s still at least half a dozen gritspitters ready to take a piece out of me.

Not great, but I’ve had worse odds before.

Shake and bake

Shake and bake

Let’s see what you can take

Ayeahayeahayeahayeah

Gonna play our gaaaaaaame?

Ayeahayeahayeahayeah

I’mma beast you just can’t taaaaaame

“At least the music’s good!” Kiwi calls as she powerslams another thug into the wall.

“Glad to hear it! Didn’t know if you’d like it!” I shout back, rolling behind side console to avoid a volley of plasma bolts.

“Yeah, it’s raw! I like it!” Kiwi grunts as she blocks a hammerblow from an orc. Fractures run through the hardlight gauntlet she used to block the hit, pieces flying off and dissolving as it starts to fall apart. “It’s like pop rock, but it’s like… grimier? It feels dirty, but energetic. Whoa!” She backs out of the way, bumping up against the control console as she leans out of the way of another hammer swing.

“You should prolly focus!” I call to her as I turn off one of my ninjato, hooking it on my belt so I can pull out my stunner and charge it up. Peering back over the side console, I start taking shots at the remaining gritspitters. Two go down before the rest start to take cover, the elf with the plasma pistol returning fire on me.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m— oh shit!” Kiwi rolls out of the way as the orc swings his hammer up and over for a crushing slam. The swing misses her, but absolutely demolishes the control console she was backed up against. Red lights click on across the room as loud, echoing clanks can be heard throughout the elevator platform. A dull roaring becomes audible as thrusters on the exterior of the platform kick on, and the clouds outside start passing by much, much faster. A sense of weightlessness overtakes me, and everyone else in the room, as we start to float off the floor.

“Crap!” I hiss as I hit the ceiling. “The elevator’s in freefall!”

Shake and bake

Shake and bake

Let’s see what you can take

Buckle up

Knuckle up

Overfill my fountain cup

Knock ‘em down

Make ‘em frown

Chase deez bitches outta town

Playin’ rough

Playin’ tough

Gotta have that juicy stuff

“This has got to be some of the stupidest, craziest shit I have ever done!” I shout as I slide under a swing from the orc, slashing the back of his leg on the way past and skidding across the ground… as much as you could call the ceiling the ground. “Legaci, we need help! You need to turn the elevator’s brakes on!”

“Yeah, I kinda gathered, working on it, give me a minute.” is her terse response.

“We don’t exactly have a minute!” I reply, yanking my stunner out of my longcoat and nailing the orc with a couple pulses, then staggering as a plasma bolt splashes off my shoulder, most of the heat blocked but some of it still seeping through. “This thing is falling so fast that we’re standing on the ceiling! We can’t get back to the floor!”

“Yes, very cool, you can tell me all about it later. I don’t have administrative access to the elevator platform yet; I can’t control the systems. I can tell you where you can access certain functions from, but you’ll have to be the one that throws the brakes. The main control console in that room—”

“Yeah, that’s been smashed all to pieces.” I interrupt her, lifting my stunner and firing a couple pulses at the elf with the plasma pistol. One catches her in the shoulder and the other misses her, but Kiwi’s following up on it, pelting across the ceiling and jumping into the air, her remaining gauntlet geared back for a meteor smash.

“Okay then.” Legaci says, sounding exasperated. “What about the side console? Have you destroyed that yet?”

“Still intact, for now.” I reply, looking up to see the side console above me and to the side a ways. “Reaching it might be a problem, though. Like I said, we’re stuck on the ceiling because of how fast the elevator is falling.”

“That’s the best I can offer you. There’s no emergency brake lever you can pull on the ceiling, so you’re going to have to get back to the floor.”

“We’ll figure something out.” I say, taking a second to slap another gritspitter in the side of the head with the flat of my ninjato. “Kiwi! Clean up there and get over here, I need some help reaching this console!”

You tell me you’re a closer

Kid, you’re just a poser

You think dinner was hard?

Go an’ work it on graveyard

If that’s no trouble

Let’s see you pull double

Made it through the night?

Eh, I guess you’re alright

“Alright, that should be the last of them!” Kiwi calls, dropping the last gritspitter as her remaining gauntlet flickers out. “You got a fix for this, right?”

“Maybe, but I’m gonna need your help!” I grunt as launch myself off the wall, grabbing for the console on the floor above me and missing by a few inches. Around us, the windows are starting to tint red as we burn our way through the atmosphere. “I need to reach the console up there. Once I’m there, Legaci can walk me through activating the emergency braking system.”

“Let’s get to it, then. Looks like we’ve only got a few miles of tether left before this ride ends.” Jogging over to me, she kneels on the ceiling, holding her hands out. “I’ll give you a boost up with a displacement ripple. Should be enough to get you up there.”

“Let’s hope so.” I say, planting my boot on her hands and looking up. There’s no good handholds on the console, so I’ll have to make my own; flipping my active ninjato around so I’m holding it reversehand, I channel some of the energy in my body into the blade. “On three. One, two, GO!”

I jump up, feeling Kiwi pushing from below as the displacement ripple passes my legs and carries me high into the air. It’s high enough for me to stab my ninjato into the console’s body, the shimmering blade melting through the metal before it quickly cools, and leaves me hanging from the hilt. “Alright, Legaci! I can reach the screen! Tell me where I need to go!” I shout, reaching up and working to clear the dozen or so system warnings flashing over it.

“It’ll be in the main menu, under Systems. Go to Altitude Control; brake systems should be towards the bottom. Select manual control and open it.”

“I see it, working on it!” I say, tapping though the screens while trying to keep my grip on the handle of my sword.

“Wait, listen! Don’t dial the brakes up to full when you get to that screen. Deploy them slowly or everyone on that elevator is going to turn into blood splatters on the floors.”

“Got it, slamming on the brakes will get you killed just like it would if you weren’t wearing a seatbelt.” I grunt, tapping my fingers to the brake sliders. “Get ready, Kiwi, the floor’s about to become the floor again.”

“Born ready.” she replies, pivoting into a handstand on the ceiling so she can hit the floor feet-first as I start to dial up the orbital elevator’s brakes.

Shake and bake

Shake and bake

Let’s see what you can take

Buckle up

Knuckle up

Overfill my fountain cup

Knock ‘em down

Make ‘em frown

Chase deez bitches outta town

Playin’ rough

Playin’ tough

Gotta have that juicy stuff

Shake and bake

Shake and bake

Yeah I’m never gonna break

Shake and bake

Shake and bake

Yeah I’m never gonna break

“Unff!” Kiwi grunts as she hits the floor again. Across the room, the unconscious bodies of the thugs we’ve fought have returned to the floor, some more roughly than others. They might be nursing broken bones when they come to. For my part, I’ve yanked my ninjato out of the console and deactivated it, hooking it back on my beltline as I scramble back to my feet and ramp up the elevator’s brakes to max. An awful, metal-on-metal screeching is echoing through the orbital elevator, and there’s no music to soften it now that the song is over. There are heat warnings starting to pile up for the corridors closest to the braking pads on the orbital tether.

“How are we doing?” Kiwi asks as she gets back to her feet. Outside the slanted windows, the ground is getting closer and closer, mountain ranges and strip mines visible in detail from our current altitude.

“Not great, we’re still falling at over a hundred miles an hour. We hit the ground at this speed, there’s going to be nothing left to clean up.” I reply, my eyes darting across the screen as I look for other braking measures that I can throw in. “Legaci, I need options, tell me there’s something besides the tether brake to slow this thing down.”

“Altitude management thrusters. They moderate the speed of an orbital elevator’s descent, in conjunction with the tether brake.”

“Found it; deploying it.” I answer, starting to dial up the thrusters to full. A roar and jets of fire flare to life outside the windows, joining the awful screeching of the tether brake. “What else?”

“Braking flaps, if you can find them? But at the speed you’re going, it might just rip them clean off…”

“Found them, might as well try it.” I say, tapping through the speed warnings that are asking me with I really want to deploy the braking flaps. The moment they open, there’s a sharp jerk that shoves me down against the console and Kiwi against the floor, followed by the groan of metal and the clang of metal being ripped and twisted loose of its housing. Peeling my face off the screen, I can see a damage report showing that one of the braking flaps has torn right off, and the wind resistance imbalance from the other flaps is starting to put the orbital elevator into a spin around the tether. Looking up, I can see that the vista outside the window is turning, slowly giving a 360-swing view of the planet’s surface.

“Well, you’re definitely slowing down, but I’m not sure you’re slowing down fast enough.” Legaci remarks. “You’ve got less than a mile of tether left and you’re still dropping at over seventy miles an hour. At the rate you’re losing speed, you’re going to hit the ground at twenty or thirty miles an hour.”

“Why is it so hard to slow this thing down?” I demand, scouring through the console’s menus for more breaking measures. “A mile should be more than enough to go from seventy to zero!”

“Moving horizontally and in a small civilian vehicle, yes. Descending vertically and on an orbital elevator weighing tens of thousands of tons with a few thousand tons of freight and goods, not so much.”

“Hey, you mind looping me in on that conversation you’re having?” Kiwi says beside me. “Kinda in the dark here, since I’m not jacked into your comms system.”

“Yeah, coming in for a hard landing, doesn’t seem like there’s much else we can do about it besides hanging tight and hoping we don’t get thrown around too much.” I answer, looking around the room and trying to figure out the best place to be in the event of a crash. “If you’ve got something that could help with that, that’d be great…”

She surprises me by grabbing my hand and pulling me down, wedging herself into the space between the console and the wall, and tugging me with her. The runemarks around her wrists glow as she starts picking certain ones out, arranging them into a circle in the air that expands into a green dome over us. “It’ll keep us from rolling around too much or getting hit by anything falling from above.” she explains. “Although if the ceiling gives and something like a pallet full of supplies falls on us, it’s probably gonna crush us flat.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing.” I shrug, then hold up my arm, the runes around my own wrist still glowing blue. “And if you need to borrow some energy to make it stronger, feel free.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” she says, looking around. “How long until impact?”

“Prolly another ten or twenty seconds.”

“Five.”

“Legaci says five.”

“Oh great—”

The impact cuts her off, and it does feel alarmingly similar to a vehicular crash. It’s a jarring, violent halt that slings us to the side against the edge of the dome, with the lights flickering out and the plasteel windows shattering as the room torques out of shape. Plates on the floor, wall, and ceiling all buckle, some popping out of place and at least a couple clattering off Kiwi’s dome. Even as the elevator platform comes to a rest, there’s structural groaning all around us, as if the entire platform was complaining about enduring stresses it was never meant to endure. As the debris starts to settle, both of us look up and around, studying our surroundings by the light leaking in through the broken windows. Smoke is already starting to billow into the room — it seems to be coming through the ventilation, and if I had to guess, it was probably originating from the platform’s braking pads, or from whatever rooms and systems closest to them that got cooked by the heat.

“That wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it’d be.” Kiwi remarks after a moment, her protective dome fading around us.

“Could’ve gone worse.” I agree, shakily getting up and walking around the console, making my way over to the windows. It’s about a forty, maybe fifty-foot drop to the landing pad below, and sirens are going off as smoke billows from the platform. Presumably, orbital elevators were not supposed to arrive to their destinations in this manner. “This elevator’s probably gonna need weeks of repairs. I’ll have to find another way to get offworld once I’m done here—”

“WOO!” I hear Kiwi shout, a second before she tackles me from behind, knocking both of us out of the window. All of my crisis instincts kick into overdrive as we start falling; I start flailing, as much as I can with her arms wrapped around me, and it takes me a few seconds to realize we aren’t falling very fast. Looking over my shoulder, I see that her shoulder runes are active, with a pair of green hardlight wings flared from her back and slowing our descent.

“Jesu christi!” I gasp, finally able to catch my unneeded breath. “A little warning next time, maybe?”

She grins. “But then I wouldn’t get to see the bug-eyed look on your face.” Drifting down the last couple dozen feet, she lets me go as our feet touch to the landing pad, her glass wings dissolving as she motions to me. “What’s up with the red hair? Were you trying to go incognito?”

I reach up, touching my hair and remembering that I had in fact changed the color in an effort to fly under the radar. “Yeah, that was the idea.” I say, reaching into my jacket and pulling out the remote for my prismatic nanites, dialing it back over to my usual tropical-blue hue. “Didn’t exactly work the way I wanted.”

Kiwi smirks. “After that little incident in Talingrad? Yeah, everyone knows what you look like now. And what you sound like. And the color of your mountain jay boxer briefs.”

“Oh god, you saw it too.” I sigh, dragging a hand down my face.

“ ‘Course I saw it.” she snorts. “When your boyfriend makes the galactic news on all major channels, it’s hard to miss it.” She gives me a light punch as she walks past me, headed for the buildings on the the edge of the orbital tether’s landing pad. “Let’s go. I figure you’re here for a reason. Heading for the Ravines?”

“Yeah. Here to see about recruiting one of the surviving Challengers.” I say, following after her. Emergency vehicles, or Halomor’s anarchic rundown equivalent of them, are already speeding across the pad towards the crashed elevator. “What about you?”

“Hunting down a Mask collector. We got a tip that she was here on Halomor, and the Council asked me to turn her into a Sunday-paper obituary.” Kiwi says, starting to pull her hoodie back on. “You know, the usual.”

“Ah yes. Of course. Just a casual request for assassination.”

“Yeah, y’know. Just another Tuesday.”

“Steal state secrets on Wednesday and topple a government on Thursday, and you’ll have filled out your espionage bingo card.”

“Now you’re gettin’ it.” Kiwi says, then looks at me. “…I missed you, Blueberry.” She reaches up, sliding a hand around my neck and pulling me into a kiss. I’m only faintly surprised, and I have to admit…

I missed this.

“Hey! Stop right there, hands up!” It’s a shout that follows the shrieking brakes of a car coming to a sudden halt, and our kiss breaks apart as we look to the side and see that whatever passes for Halomor’s police are starting to empty out of a grimy armored personnel carrier. Makeshift fire trucks and ambulances are driving past us on their way to the orbital elevator, which is now spilling the other passengers that were on other levels of the platform.

“Guys, really?” I ask, exasperated. “We just beat up twenty dudes and crashed an orbital elevator, and all we’ve got to show for it is a couple bruises. Do you really want to pick a fight with us?”

“Dude, that’s Songbird.” one of them whispers to his captain.

The captain does a double take. “You mean the one that… with the fuzzy cuffs… and the pop star… on Talingrad? The one with the mountain jay briefs?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I preferred it when I was known as the guy that killed Nova.” I mutter to Kiwi, who just grins.

“Huh. Uh-huh?” the captain says, listening to one of his subordinates whispers in his ear while he sizes us up. “I see. Yeah, now that you mention it…” Clearing his throat, he saunters forward, squaring his shoulders. “Well, we’ll let it slide this time. Just don’t do…” He makes a vague, hand-waving motion to the smoldering mess of an orbital elevator behind us. “…any of that again. Got it?”

“Fair enough. We’ll be on our best behavior unless someone tries to kill or kidnap us again.” I say as they load back into their APC. “Good day to you, gentlemen.”

Kiwi and I wait until they rumble past us, and then we start walking again. “They were trying not to show it, but they were scared shitless.” she snickers, looping her arm through mine. “Right, so let’s get down into the Ravines, grab some lunch, catch up, and then we’ll help each other with our missions. Sound good?”

Even though I fight it, I can’t keep down the giddy smile floating to the surface. “It does, actually. It really does.”

“Perfect. I’ve been to Halomor more than a few times; there’s this Moksan noodlehouse down on the south end of the Ravines that’s run by this Norvergi wereckanan, and he makes some of the best noodle bowls this side of the galaxy…”

Dan Splainsworthy’s Encyclopedia of Sentient Galactic Species

Wereckanan

Known by many names, the wereckanan are the race of shapeshifters that have monitored humanity, and many of its branches, for billions of years. Thought to have been incepted roughly two or three billion years ago, they have watched over humanity for time immemorial, sometimes mingling in their societies and inspiring the old fables of humans that could turn into animals at will.

Wereckanan possess two forms, the first being their human form and the second being their animal form. In their human form, they are indistinguishable from a normal human; one could argue that their slightly higher strength quotient and general adroitness would give them away, but these are easily concealed. Their second form, known as their morph, is a specific animal into which they can transform at will. This morph is determined by the genetic contributions of the parents; offspring typically inherit the morph of one parent or the other. Hybrid cases are rare, and often result in infertility.

Wereckanan are extremely long-lived, with the average lifespan being roughly four thousand years. This vast span of time has resulted in some fundamental differences in wereckanan society; wereckanan have far more time to hone skills, conduct long-term research projects, and generally acquire more experience and wisdom than shorter-lived species. This has resulted in a considerable technological edge for the wereckanan, who are considered to be several generations ahead of the most advanced nations. Because of these differences between wereckanan society and the rest of galactic society at large, the wereckanan as a race tend to hold other species at arms length. The conventional wisdom of wereckanan elders is that it is better to remain out of the affairs of shorter-lived races, given the difficulties that accompany painfully large aging disparities.

However, wereckanan as individuals often ignore this wisdom, mingling in the societies of other species at will and as they wish. While not overwhelmingly common, most worlds have wereckanan sprinkled through their population, and it’s not difficult to find them if you start looking. The reasons for their decision to mingle with shorter-lived races vary, but many wereckanan do it for the experience, or because they like the particular society or culture they have settled into.

Within their own nation, the wereckanan are divided into ethnic groups based on their animal morphs, in much the same manner that other races organize themselves according to skin tone or geographic origin. There are nine major ethnic groups, each one representing a certain animal species or general animal group, with a multitude of smaller ethnic groups bridging the gaps between the major groups. At various times in wereckanan history, these ethnic distinctions have been the source of friction and conflict within wereckanan society; however, in the current era, these cultural differences have ebbed and allegiance to one’s ethnicity is considered subordinate to the overall wereckanan identity, as contrasted with the other races in the galaxy.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Ravines: Finch’s Fryhouse

3:02pm SGT

“…but after the Collective invaded Mokasha, the Council put the brakes on and circled the wagons around all of Maskling worlds.” Kiwi explains past a mouthful of noodles. “They pulled back a lot of free-roam assets, of which I was one, and they wouldn’t let us go until they were certain the Collective wasn’t planning an attack against one of our worlds. So I’m stuck in the capitol, kicking my feet back and forth until the Council untightens their sphincters enough to let the free roamers get back to work. And when they finally do let me go again, they won’t let me go back to the Valiant! Said that Tarocco and Cahriu are enough and that I’m needed for other high-priority assignments.”

“Sounds like it’s been a rough six months.” I say, sipping from my strawberry-kiwi fizzwater. “So the fact that we crossed paths — it’s just coincidence? You don’t think the Council would’ve sent you on this mission if they knew you’d stumble across Valiant assets?”

“Well, I don’t think there are any coincidences — I think we were meant to cross paths.”Kiwi says, digging her fork back into her noodle bowl. “But we didn’t cross paths because the Council wanted us to. Which sucks for them, because you’re comin’ back with me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And here I was thinking that you would be coming back with me.”

She grins. “We gonna end up fighting over who gets to kidnap who again?”

I shrug. “Just sayin’, we’ve already had that fight and you know who won last time.”

“You only won because you had help. Cheater.” she says, rolling her eyes. “But no, seriously. I want you to come back with me. The Council doesn’t believe that it’s possible to tangle with a non-Mask without killing them. You’re my proof. And if I can convince them that you’re the only handler that can really handle me, then I can argue that I need to be with the Valiant, since you’re the core of the Valiant.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” I say quickly. “Why’s it so important to prove to the Council that I can handle you? Are they trying to assign you other handlers?”

“They’re trying, but I refuse to use them.” Kiwi sulks. “If I can get in with the Valiant, I can get out from under the Council trying to micromanage every part of my life. What missions I go on, what handlers I get assigned, the benchmarks I have to take every three months… all of that. I can have freedom and run with a handler that can actually handle me.”

“I mean, I’d love to have you with us, but I can’t just up and disappear on a jaunt to some corner of dark space.” I point out. “The Valiant are expecting me back, and I have responsibilities. Maybe you could come with me instead? Back to the Sunthorn Bastion?”

“That’d just get me in trouble with the Council.” Kiwi mutters into her noodle bowl. “It’ll be a quick trip, I promise. Come back to Nichoyae with me. We can talk to the Council, explain why I’m better off with you, give them a demonstration if necessary.” She sets her noodle bowl down on the counter, searching me with those wildfire eyes. “Please, Feroce. I don’t want to leave this world without you. I want to go back to the Valiant, be part of something big and important. Something I choose to fight for, not something I’m being told to fight for.”

I bite my lip, struggling with that. I know what I’m supposed to do, and I’m a rule-follower by nature. I know people are relying on me, and I’m supposed to return to Sunthorn after this. But that look on Kiwi’s face is drawing me like a magnet, tugging at my heart. She’s asking me for help and the idea of seeing the disappointment in her eyes just kills me.

Reaching up, I tap the earbud I’ve left tucked in my ear, waking it up. “Legaci, can you hear me?” I ask.

“No.”

I roll my eyes. “Well obviously you can, you just responded—”

“I’m saying no, you’re not going AWOL with your girlfriend.”

I straighten up at that. “Hold up, you’ve been eavesdropping this whole time?”

“You left your earbud on sleep, you dingus, you didn’t turn it off. It’s still passively soaking in audio so yeah, I’ve had to sit through your lovey-dovey nonsense for the last two hours.”

“Wha— excuse me, it’s not ‘lovey-dovey nonsense’!” I say indignantly. “It’s been fifteen, maybe twenty percent feelings and— you know what, forget that. That’s not what we’re talking about. If you’ve been listening the whole time, you know why this is important to Kiwi, and hell, we could use her on the Valiant! You know we’re having a hard time with staffing up the organization with competent people!”

“There’s no reason to believe that the Maskling Council is going to let her work with us. They might even confine her to the Maskling homeworld if they think she’s gonna go AWOL. And you might end up stuck there with her, and where does that leave us?”

I let out a frustrated exhalation. “Look, I’ll talk to you later, Legaci. I need to see about finishing up this mission.”

“Oh no you don’t, Songbird, I swear to god if you go AWOL—” Legaci starts shouting through my earbud as I reach up to pull it out. “Songbird! Don’t you dare turn this earbud off, you hear me? Stop thinking with your crotch! Don’t you dare—”

Legaci’s voice cuts out with a crisp snap as I slip the earbud back into its charging case and close the lid, tucking it back into my longcoat. I blow out a long breath, leaning on the counter and taking a sip of my fizzwater as I look at Kiwi. “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”

She smiles. “I’m worth it though, right?”

“I’m trusting you, so you’ve gotta make this work, okay?” I say. “I’ll come back to your homeworld and do what I can, but that’s your home turf. I’m gonna be out of my depth; there’s only so much I can do.”

“I’ll make it work.” she promises, picking up her noodle bowl again. “If things don’t work out, we can always steal a ship and run away.” When she notices my expression, she pauses. “Feroce. Relax. That was a joke. It’ll work out.”

“If you say so.” I say, watching as she digs her fork back into her noodles. “Okay, look, just— I have to know. Do you not know how to use chopsticks?”

She looks up at me. “Oh, don’t you start on me.”

I grimace. “It’s just… making me die inside a little. This is an authentic Moksan noodlehouse and you’re using a fork to twirl noodles like it’s Begnionese spaghetti—”

“Oh, you mean like this?” Kiwi says, twirling her fork around in her noodle bowl. “You don’t even eat food, you just sip blood and fizzwater! What’s it matter to you?”

“Well I used to eat food, and my dad’s side of the family is Moksan.” I protest. “So when we ate our noodles, we always ate them. With chopsticks! Like everything else on a Moksan menu!”

Kiwi squints at me. “You’re part Moksan? No way. You’re too white for that. Where’s your Moksan tan?”

“I am, it’s just… I take after my mom more. She’s Valcalian.” I puff into my fizzwater. “You should see my sister. She looks like fullblooded Moksan.”

“Naw naw nah, sistah, cut th’ la’ sum slack, yeh?” comes a greasy drawl from behind the counter as the noodlebar’s owner comes up to us, leaning an elbow on the counter. He’s got on a tight vest, a collared shirt, a dusty, stained fedora, and a narrow, ratlike face that makes him look like the congealed personification of sleaze. “Ya boi’s Mawksan, Ah ken see et. S’in th’ ayes, yeh? G’wan laddie, squint ferrus.”

I stare at him, then look at Kiwi. “…what did he say?”

“This is Finch.” Kiwi says, munching her way through another mouthful of noodles. “The accent takes a little bit to get used to. He’s telling you to squint because that’ll make you look Moksan or something.”

I scowl at him. “Dude, that’s super racist. I mean, probably also true, but still racist.”

“Aye, there eet es.” Finch snickers. “N’doan b’silly, boyo. Ah’m Mawksan, h’ain’t rasist a’be tellin’ troofs ‘bout ya’own pea’pol. Who’s yous ta sey wha’ Mawksans shoul’ be, mm? Yous a priddy Valcahlia boi, whiter’n’a’brick’o’creem cheese inna middle ovva win’ner blizzar’, but yew still gawt Mawksan blood, ent’cha?”

My mouth hangs open as I try to process through the accent-mangled words. “I… okay, I think I got like… forty percent of that.”

“You’ll get it eventually.” Kiwi assures me as she cleans out the rest of her noodle bowl, then sets it back on the counter. “Finch, we could use some help finding someone. Songbird here is looking for some assassin-type guy that’s supposed to be holing up here on Halomor — what was his name, Blueberry?”

“Kaiser.” I explain. “He might be going under a different name, flying under the radar. He used to be the head of Accounting for the Challenger program.”

“Aayyyyyeeeeee.” Finch drawls, reaching up to adjust his fedora. “Yeh, Ah know ‘im. Ain’ sommat yous awt mess wit’. Keep a lie foot ‘roun’ tha’ one, ‘ill kill yous wis’sout a sekkun tha’.” His sly eyes slide towards us. “Ah know where ‘e es. Imma nee’ a lil’ sommat in return, tho.”

“Oh, c’mon, dude.” Kiwi says, holding up her bowl. “We came and had lunch, isn’t that enough?”

“Yous askin’ fer th’ luhcayshun o’ wonna th’moes danjerus sumsbitches inna galaxy n’ yous think yous a’pay tha’ off wiffa noodle bowl?” Finch scoffs. “Feather lassi. Puhleeze. Imma needa bit more’n ‘at. Howsa’bout…” He taps his stubbly chin, as if he was thinking about it. “…yous drawp da blu balls bludsuckah. ‘E cain’ hannel ah priddly liddle wild thang loike yous. Ah ken give yah th’ taymin’ yeh nee’, lassi.”

I narrow my eyes at the grease rat. “Kiwi, did he…”

Kiwi snorts. “In your dreams, Finch. Why don’t you ask for something that’s actually within the realm of quantum possibility?”

Finch sniggers. “Foine, lassi. Iffen yous sez so. Mmm, wha’ do Ah wan’…” His oily eyes slide around and settle on me as he licks his teeth. “Ah wan’ a foive-stahr rahview from th’ infa’moose Sawngberd ‘imself.”

I take a deep breath. “Okay. I understood that. You want a five-star review for your shitty little noodlebar?”

“Ay nah laddie, be farh.” Finch chides. “Yous may nawt loike meh, buh gi’ me noodles a farh shake. Hate th’ mahn, nawt th’ menu.”

I glance at Kiwi, who shrugs. “It doesn’t sound like a bad trade. Positive review in exchange for Kaiser’s location. There’s worse things he could’ve asked for.”

“Fine.” I mutter, digging out my phone. “Start writing down Kaiser’s address while I figure out how to pad this review.”

“Mah plezzure.” he says with a greasy grin, grabbing one of his takeout menus and flipping it over to the blank space on the back, pulling a pen out of his vest and clicking it. While he’s writing out the instructions on where to find Kaiser, I look up his noodlehouse on Halomorian’s map, and start grinding out a five-star review that may as well have been given through gritted teeth. By the time I’ve posted it, he’s slid the takeout menu across the counter to Kiwi, tapping the phone number at the bottom. “Mah numbah, in case yeh chan’e yer mine.”

Kiwi takes the menu and swats his fedora with it. “I’ve already got your number, you walking grease stain. You gave it to me a couple of visits ago in case I ever needed to hit you up for leads, remember?”

“He’s just trying to rile me up.” I mutter, sliding off my stool and tucking my phone away. “You’ve got your review and Kiwi’s already paid up. We’re leaving now.”

“Plezzure doin’ biznatch wit’choo, laddie.” Finch drawls from the shadow of his fedora, grinning queasily. “Doan’ ha’ too mush fun nah, yeh? Orb’tal el’vaters ain’ cheep.”

“Get bent, Finch.” Kiwi calls over her shoulder as we head back out into the rickety, run-down streets of the Ravines. I tuck my hands into the pockets of my longcoat, following her as she starts looking over the instructions that Finch wrote on the back of the menu. “Let’s see what we’ve got here…”

“I’ve seen a lot of shit, but that’s gotta be a first.” I mutter. “That guy looked like what would happen if you cast a spell on a pizza box grease stain and it came to life.”

“Yeah, Finch is something else. You spend most of your time fighting the urge to lunge across the counter and throttle him to death.” Kiwi says, without looking around. “He’s got his uses, though. Masterclass spy. He’s got connections out the ass and eyes everywhere.”

“Him? A spy?” I repeat incredulously. “The dude oozes so much sleaze and grease that he’d catch fire if you lit a match within six feet of him. I started getting the murder twitchies every time he opened his mouth, and I’m usually a calm person. There’s no way he’s any good as a spy.”

Kiwi shrugs, holding up the takeout menu. “Hey, he was able to give us the roadmap to your master assassin, so he’s doin’ something right. Let’s get out to the road; we’re going to need to catch a ride down to the south end of the Ravines. Preferably without someone trying to mug us.”

“If the tip doesn’t pan out, can we go back and hang him by the ankles while we shake an answer out of him?”

“Sure. You’re paying for my next noodle bowl if we go back, though.”

“Works for me.”

Event Log: Rewind: 17 years ago

Lunar Echo Bastion: Accounting

It was quiet in the room as Kaiser swipes through the file on his slate.

“A rather extensive resume for only eight years worth of service.” the Head of Accounting states, after what seems like an age. It’s the only thing he’s said in his fifteen minutes in the room.

Songbird, sitting in a chair within the single pool of light in the darkened room, looks up at Kaiser, and then away again. Standing beside his chair is Riplash, who is likewise stony-faced and impassive. On the whole, the experience is very different from what Songbird is accustomed to; he feels less like a candidate for the Accounting program and more like a potential blacksite prisoner.

After another few minutes of perusing Songbird’s file, Kaiser hands the slate back to Riplash. “You recently became a vampire.” Though the question is phrased as a statement and lacks the tonality of a question, Songbird can tell, by the way that Kaiser stares over the edge of his spectacles, that it was a question.

So he nods.

Kaiser leans his head ever so slightly to one side, as if sizing up the young Challenger. After a moment, he turns around and starts to walk away. “He doesn’t have what it takes. Send him back to whatever garbage fire he came from and tell the Administrator to stop wasting my time.”

The words clearly come as a shock to Songbird; enough so that he’s speechless for more than a few seconds. “Wait, what? What do mean, I don’t have what it takes?”

“You’re a backup Titan pilot, are you not?” Kaiser replies without slowing down or turning around. “Go back to your plugsuits and your silly robots. The mech hangar suits you better than Accounting, and you’ve already wasted half a decade on it. You may as well submit to the sunken cost fallacy and waste the rest of it.”

Songbird’s mouth hangs open. “I’m here because the administration told me this was where I was getting transferred!”

“The administration has suffered from cognitive decline on account of gradually driving out the staff which possessed competence.” Kaiser answers drily. “Kindly let them know we are rejecting the transfer due to maintaining a higher standard of quality than the rest of the organization has adopted.”

Songbird works his mouth, as if trying to figure out what to say, then finally stands out of the chair and shouts at Kaiser. “HEY!”

Kaiser stops and looks around, largely unruffled by the shout.

“I was sent here to do a job.” Songbird snaps at him. “I’m not here because I want to be here; I’m here because I have to be here. The least you could do is give me a chance to do what I’ve been asked to do, instead of writing me off after fifteen minutes because you don’t think I’m good enough for your super secret department. That’s the point of training. I can’t do what I’m supposed to do if you don’t train me on how to do it.”

Kaiser releases a small breath. “So you want to train with Accounting, then?”

“Well, I didn’t wander down here to smell the roses and sit in a hardass chair for twenty minutes.” Songbird retorts. “So I’d appreciate it if you’d take this seriously, yes.”

“Very well.” Kaiser says after a moment, turning about and making his way back to Songbird. He holds out a gloved hand, motioning for Songbird to give him his arm; despite hesitating, Songbird offers it up, and Kaiser takes the young Challenger’s hand, looking it over.

And then, without warning, Kaiser ignites a violet blade of energy from his other hand, turning it and slicing clean through Songbird’s wrist in a single neat stroke.

The abrupt violence only seems to come as a shock to Songbird, who staggers away and jerks his arm back, but two seconds too late, as evinced by the fact that he’s pulling back a stump. Riplash does not appear all too moved by the violence, though something approaching irritation crosses his face as Songbird lets out a half-scream, half-shout, clutching his stump to his stomach and folding to his knees, trying to stem the flow of blood. Kaiser drops Songbird’s dissevered hand as the energy blade fizzles out, moving over to where Songbird is hyperventilating on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Kaiser demands. “Get up.”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Songbird screams hoarsely at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“You’re a vampire. Your hand will regenerate with enough blood, as will any part of you. True combat-hardened vampires do not allow the loss of limbs, or pain, to stop them.” Kaiser says, circling around Songbird. “But you wouldn’t know that, because you only became a vampire a year ago, and illegally, without any of the rigors of the Dodakatheon’s preselection process or the years of Family training that come after conversion. You took a shortcut around the system, hoping to reap the benefits without any of the costs that come with it. And it shows.”

“You cut off my hand!” Songbird shouts at him.

“Yes. Enemy combatants have a tendency to do that to hands and other limbs.” Kaiser replies mildly. “As a vampire Accountant, you will be expected to work through that and carry out your objective so long as it is still feasible to do so. If you cannot muster the resolve and self-control needed to pursue the mission’s objectives despite setbacks like this, we have no use for you. 4671, if you would?”

Riplash crosses the distance to Songbird, rolling up his sleeves as he does so. On a normal day, Songbird likely would’ve been able to read his stride and know what was coming, but having his hand cut off has put him all out of sorts, and he does not seem to realize what’s happening until Riplash has nailed him in the face with a punch, knocking him on his side on the ground.

“Your performance to this point is leaving much to be desired.” Kaiser remarks, hands clasped behind his back. “I recommend you get on your feet and make an attempt to remedy that.”

Songbird rolls over, his breath coming hard and fast. He keeps his stump pressed to his stomach, trying to stem the bleeding while he uses his other hand to push himself up; once he’s standing, Riplash moves in on him again. The exchange of blows is short, and can’t even really be considered an exchange so much as it’s Songbird struggling and failing to block hits before ending up on the floor again.

“Pain is a distraction. It is irrelevant to a creature that can recover from nearly any type of damage.” Kaiser says as Songbird curls on the floor, rasping and heaving. “You are a vampire. You do not need to breathe except to speak. Everything that is holding you back exists in your mind alone, as inhibitions that do not reflect what you are actually capable of. Set them aside, stop cradling your stump like it’s a baby bird, and use that limb to protect yourself. It is already damaged; you may as well use it to prevent damage to your other limbs.”

Teeth are gritted, and Songbird struggles back to his feet again. No smarmy asides, no furious comebacks, no complaints about unfairness. They would all be in order, but pain is a harsh master, and a severed limb is several types of pain, many of which are not quickly or easily alleviated.

Once Songbird’s back up again, Riplash gets right back at him again, and he does not pull his punches. Unlike the public-facing side of the Challenger program, Accounting does not trade in the sentiments of mercy and benevolence. Operating away from the scrutinizing eye of the public, this little-known department of the program does all the things that the Challengers cannot do in the light of day — ties up all the loose ends, sends messages, and cleans up all the ugly messes that would otherwise give the media office a neverending headache. They get their hands dirty, so that the rest of the Challengers can keep their hands clean.

The second bout goes only marginally better than the first one, with Songbird doing his best to trade evenly with Riplash. But it is obvious he remains distracted by the pain of a severed limb, and cannot move past human instincts of self-preservation. The punches and kicks he throws lack commitment, and they are done cautiously — leaving Riplash to capitalize on the weaknesses with a tactical, unrelenting brutality. There is no mercy and no quarter given, and after a series of punches to the face, throat, and gut, Songbird is on the floor again, curled up as he tries to shield himself from Riplash’s kicks.

“You are not equipped for this department.” Kaiser says, with his voice a signal for Riplash to ease off. “You lack the disposition, experience, and worldview needed to do the work we do here. Accounting is not the noble pursuit you have become accustomed to on the public-facing side of the program; no, it is a harsh, necessary affair. No conflict is without victims; no war is without collateral. We trim away those loose ends, clean up the messes, so that the rest of you can look good in the spotlight. The work is raw and bloody; the threats we deal with don’t grandstand or carry a philosophical discussion with you for all the galaxy to see. They’ll simply try to kill you, because that’s all there is to it, and they won’t quibble over what’s fair because everything is fair to them.”

By this point, Kaiser’s stride has returned him to where Songbird is curled up on the ground. “The public will never know what we do and we will never be thanked for our work. But our work is necessary. That luminous galactic order, those aspirant ideals that the Challengers work so hard to champion, to uphold and preserve, requires dirty work. Every gleaming skyscraper, filled with whitecollar executives and visionaries, has a foundation that was laid by engineers covered in the dirt and grime of the ground that it stands upon.” Crouching down in front of Songbird, who is covered in blood and tears, Kaiser goes on. “We are the engineers, 5377. And a visionary freeloader like you does not have what it takes to lay the foundation. So go back upstairs to your cozy C-suite, and stop wasting our time.”

With that, Kaiser stands once more, turning away and starting to cross the room, with Riplash falling into step at his shoulder. “Go to the infirmary and get Valkyrie to sort out your hand. I will tell the administration we do not have room for you in Accounting.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulls out his phone, unlocking it and checking his messages. “It appears there’s been another request close some accounts from 5371’s latest debacle on Snohjem. If you would put a team together to address that, 4671.”

“It’s the gift that keeps on giving.” Riplash mutters. “I clean up that girl’s messes more often than I clean my cat’s litterbox.”

“We countenance her shenanigans only because of her raw power and social clout among the galactic popul—”

Kaiser’s head jerks forward as something bounces off the back of it, sprinkling liquid across his jacket and ear. Both he and Riplash twist around to see that Songbird has struggled back to his feet, his stump pressed against his stomach once more. Whatever he threw at Kaiser is settling on the ground now; looking down, the Head Accountant can see that it is Songbird’s severed hand. The young Challenger beaned him in the back of the head with his own severed hand, splattering blood across the shoulder and collar of his good jacket in the process.

Kaiser looks back up, a biting repartee already forming on his tongue, only to find that Songbird is fixed on him like a rabid dog. There is an unhinged hate in those crimson eyes, vocalized a second later when he takes a deep breath and releases it in a wordless scream of rage and defiance. There’s nothing coherent about it; it’s merely pure, unadulterated rage expressed as sound.

After a long moment of staring, Kaiser speaks aside to Riplash without taking his eyes off Songbird. “Schedule training for him.”

Riplash glances at Kaiser. “Sir?”

“He may have some use after all.” Kaiser says, reaching up to smear away a streak of blood that found its way to his lower cheek. Wiping it off on the hem of his jacket, he turns and starts walking away once more. “Let the administration know we’ll accept their little challenge.”

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Ravines: Rat’s Maze

4:51pm SGT

“He’ll know we’re coming.” I say as I step out of the taxi. “He would’ve set up in a way that allows him to monitor his surroundings.”

“Seems like he’s got you pretty tense.” Kiwi says as she steps out behind me, closing the door behind her.

“You’ve never met him before.” I say, studying the directions on Finch’s takeout menu. “He’s…” I shake my head, starting to walk. “Kaiser is Kaiser.”

Kiwi snorts. “Oh yes, that’s very informative. You wanna elaborate on that?”

“It’s hard.” I mutter. “Kaiser is one of a kind. He’s just very disconcerting to be around. Imagine… nobility. Old blood, old money. Grace, sophistication, manners. Teacups, fashion, social visits.”

“Okay. I’m imagining it.” Kiwi says as we delve into the narrow alleys.

“Now take the detachment, aloofness, and dignity associated with those things, and give them to an axe murderer.”

Kiwi’s quiet for a few seconds. “…okay, you lost me there.”

“Exactly. It’s hard to really grasp what Kaiser is until you’ve met him in person. He doesn’t fit neatly into the boxes that most other people do.” I explain. “He’s very intelligent, but his brain is wired way differently than other people’s brains. And his particular wiring is difficult to understand.”

“This is all very vague.” Kiwi points out. “You haven’t said what exactly it is that makes him so dangerous or valuable.”

“Well, that’s the thing.” I say, skirting around a trashcan. “It’s not one thing, it’s a dozen little things that, taken together, just make him very… off. You’ll understand when you meet him. It’s something better understood if you experience it rather than having it explained to you.”

“If you say so.” Kiwi says, watching our surroundings as we pass by some of the ill-favored locals hanging in doorways or watching through cracked windows. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect your master assassin to be hanging out in such a shitty corner of the Ravines. Figured a former Challenger that crossed over would have a place that’s more upscale.”

“Kaiser has a certain sensibility about himself.” I answer, stepping over a puddle that may be water or may be a chemical spill. “This is probably just one of the many locations he operates from, and the one that he stays at when he wants to maintain a low profile or deter visitors. If I know him, he’s going to pretend like he’s not home when we arrive.”

“Well, I suppose we’re about to find out.” Kiwi says, taking the menu and looking at the instructions. “Should be up and around the corner here. It’ll be one of the ones carved into the wall of the canyon.”

I pull my earbuds out of my coat, snapping open the case and pulling one out. “For the first bit, make sure you stay behind me. At least until we get on talking terms. I’m not sure how he’ll react, and he’s a Shanarae.”

“Oh really?” Kiwi says as we round the corner. “You just had all sorts of types in the Challenger program, didn’t you.”

“Our diversity was our strength. It was more than just a racial checklist, which is what it seems like it’s become for CURSE nowadays.” I mutter, tucking in the earbud and slipping the case back in my coat. Crossing over the ramshackle street to the wall of the canyon and the apartments carved into it, I walk along it until we’ve found the apartment with the correct number beside the metal hatch door bolted into the stone, and a biometrics pad built in next to it. “Mmm. I guess picking the lock won’t be an option.”

“Looks pretty solid.” Kiwi says, planting a hand against the hatch door as if to test its sturdiness. “Not something you can bust down with a well-placed kick. Seems like you’d need breaching charges to get through something like this.”

“Breaching charges or a sonic sorcerer.” I say, reaching up and banging a fist on the door. “Open up, Kaiser! I know you’re in there and I know you know we’re out here!”

“That’s it?” Kiwi says, folding her arms. “You’re just going to demand that he let us in?”

“I’m counting on him to be reasonable. I trained with him in Accounting for a while. He knows what I’m capable of when I set my mind to it.” I say, digging in my jacket for my phone.

“Oh, so you’ve worn the assassin hat? Nice!” Kiwi says, elbowing me. “I didn’t know you had it in you!”

“I don’t have it in me, actually. I only trained in Accounting because I was ordered to by the Challenger administration. Kaiser and I butted heads more than once over certain… moral compunctions.” I mutter, unlocking my phone screen and syncing it up with my earbud. “I’ve got my phone out, Kaiser! You’re gonna wanna open that door or I’ll open it with something from my Crunch Time playlist!”

“Crunch time?” Kiwi says, peering at my phone. “What kind of music you got in there?”

“It’s thumper songs. Stuff with a really heavy, crunchy bassline. It’s the sort of stuff I listen to when I need to crank raw power.” I say, scrolling down the playlist. “Time’s up, Kaiser! Looks like we’re going with the Kaleidion remix of Death Star Date Night!” Tapping the song, I slip my phone back into my longcoat, letting my head start to bounce to the opening beat as I glance at Kiwi. “Might want to give it a little space.”

Kiwi holds her hands up and backs up a couple paces. “My bad, bigshot.”

I smile, turning back to the door. The bounce has turned into a slow sway and weave as I feel the energy course through my body in melodic currents. I start to snap my fingers, sparks flying off them as the music starts to ramp up to the first drop; curling my fingers into a fist, I pull it back as an aquamarine aura starts to coalesce around it, a backlog of raw power just begging for release.

And as I start to rear back to slam my fist into the door, I can hear the locks clunk, the hatch door clanking open.

I catch myself before I whip my fist forward, staggering a little in place and hitching the breath I’d been holding. Standing there in the doorway is Kaiser in his typical waistcoat and slacks, replete with the perfectly coiffed hair, immaculate spectacles, and a rather cross look on his face. I’d expected all that — what I hadn’t expected was that he’d be wearing a kitchen apron splattered with something… red.

“5377.” he says coldly.

“3055.” I reply just as coldly. After a moment, I open my fist, the blue storm around it dispersing with crackling rush of decaying energy. “I hope we’re not interrupting.”

“You are.” he says flatly.

“Unfortunate.” I reply just as flatly, digging my earbud out and tucking it away. “I know you saw the mass recall.”

His chilly, violet eyes lock onto me. “It is disappointing to find that your penchant for jumping to conclusions has not changed over the last sixteen years.”

“And it’s disappointing to find that after a decade and a half, you still try to use topic deflection to avoid admitting that my conclusions are correct.” I reply. “You wanna keep doing this out here in the open, or are you going to let us in?”

His eyes leave me and lock onto Kiwi. “Your friend stays outside.”

“She comes inside.” I counter immediately. “I know you knew she was coming with me because I know you’ve got this entire block bugged. Don’t play dumb and pretend like she’s a surprise you didn’t know about.”

Kaiser stares for a long moment, expressionless and unreadable. Then his mouth quirks slightly at the corners. “Very well then. By all means. I will not object if you elicit to provide me with further leverage during this encounter.”

Kiwi narrows her eyes at Kaiser. “…mmm, I don’t like that. What does he mean by that?”

“He thinks it’ll be easier to kill you than it will be to kill me. If you’re present, he thinks he can threaten to kill you in order to pressure me, if needed.” I explain, stepping towards the door as Kaiser stands out of the way. “Shanarae can’t drain the life out of vampires because vampires aren’t technically alive, which makes vampires nominally harder for him to coerce or intimidate. So he typically settles for threatening or harming the people that the vampire knows, as way of coercing or intimidating the vampire.”

“A rather inartistic way of describing it.” Kaiser mutters as I walk past him.

“Mm. Yeah, I’d like to see him try.” Kiwi says, following in behind me and keeping an eye on Kaiser as she goes.

“No, you don’t want to see him try.” I say as I walk further down the apartment’s hall and into the living room and conjoined kitchen. “We may not agree with each other, but I can’t deny that he has a certain gift for violence.” I turn as the hatch door closes, and Kaiser exits the entry hall. “Is that elegant enough for you, Kaiser?”

“The vocabulary rises to the occasion; the delivery does not.” Kaiser replies, walking past us on the way to the kitchen. “You send your lines like a sulky teenager, all muttering and mumbling. You may imagine it makes you sound gritty and hardbitten, but to the rest of us you sound like you’re trying to talk past the foot you’re seconds from shoving in your mouth.”

“Charming. Really. You really just warm the heart, Kaiser.” I say, shaking my head. “Not a damn thing’s changed in the last sixteen years. No matter how hard I try to meet your expectations, it’s never enough. There’s always something that’s just not good enough for you.”

“Your pursuit of a talking point has led you, as always, into a staggeringly deluded take on reality.” Kaiser says, picking up a masher and returning to a bowl of what appears to hand-mashed tomatoes. “Plenty has changed in the last sixteen years, and I will even concede that you are one of those things. But it would be a mistake to conflate ‘change’ with ‘improvement’.”

“He’s just a real bucket o’ sunshine, isn’t he?” Kiwi snorts. “And here I was thinking that Finch was irritating.”

“I’m sure Finch would be irritating if you actually knew what he was saying when he opens his mouth.” I mutter aside to her.

“I would also note that your manners clearly have not improved, in that you have failed to introduce me to the guest you so generously invited into my abode without my permission.” Kaiser says, reining in our side convo.

“This is Kiwi, she’s a Mask Knight. Happy now?” I say.

“No, but life is full of disappointments, one of which is this conversation and the fact that it’s going nowhere helpful to either of us.” Kaiser replies curtly, setting the masher aside as he turns and transfers the mashed tomatoes into a crock on the stove. “So let us dispense with the pretense. You are here to recruit me to your pale imitation of the Challenger program.”

“Imitation only in the sense that it keeps what was good. Otherwise we are cutting out all the rot and bloat that weighed down the program in its twilight years.” I answer without skipping a beat. “So if we’re dropping the pretense, I’ll say it how it is: you know I’m only here as a matter of necessity, and you know we’re only trying to recruit you because of the tactical benefit you bring to the table. Because we all know you aren’t bringing anything in the way of moral convictions.”

“And what are you going to offer me for the privilege of my service?” Kaiser asks, putting the lid on the crock and then pulling the apron off. “I know your organization is struggling to get off the ground. You barely have enough people to staff a single Bastion, much less enough to fully crew it. And even if you did have that many people, you don’t have the money to pay them. What are you supposed to offer me when you can barely pay the staff you already have?”

I shrug. “I’ll admit that your pay and benefits will not match what you had when you were a Challenger. Not by a long shot. But you get the pleasure of a job that will provide you with a challenge. And you get to live.”

That catches both Kiwi and Kaiser’s attention. “Pardon?” Kaiser says, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not stupid, Kaiser. If you don’t sign on with the Valiant, then CURSE will snatch you up.” I say, tucking my hands in my pockets. “They will be able to offer you more in the way of pay and benefits, at least in the beginning. But it comes with the downside of removing any reason I have not to kill you.”

“That threat would be more compelling but for the fact that we both know you don’t have it in you.” Kaiser points out. “You cannot bring yourself to kill. It was your defining failure as an Accountant. Even when the future of the Challenger program and the safety of its staff hinged on pulling the trigger, you hesitated to take even one life.”

“I hesitated because the person you ordered me to kill was my friend.” I counter. “You are not my friend.”

Tense silence fills up the apartment as Kaiser appears to mull that over. Kiwi’s remained quiet during our exchange, maybe sensing that getting in the middle of this isn’t the best idea right now. I keep my gaze on Kaiser, knowing that if I look away or take my eyes off him, he’ll take that as a concession or a lack of resolve. And I don’t intend to give him either of those.

I’m not the same person I was sixteen years ago, and he’s not my ranking officer anymore.

“I find that I do not work well under compulsion.” Kaiser says slowly, running his fingers along the marble countertop while his eyes remain on me. It’s not escaped me how close his fingers are to the edge, and the cutlery drawer likely just below it. “Working under pain of death has not been known to inspire loyalty.”

I shrug. “You don’t have to join the Valiant. I’m just letting you know what will happen if you join CURSE, and become a threat to the people that I care about. Because you will be asked to arrange their capture, or their deaths. And in that scenario, if you are ever, at any point, within my reach, I will come for you. And I will kill you. And anything that gets between me and you, will be going with you.”

Kaiser narrows his eyes, lips parting slightly as if he was about to issue a retort, then reconsidered. “…something’s changed. You lacked the means and standing to make this breed of threat in the past.”

I smile, but it’s not a polite smile. It’s one that shows my fangs. “Have a good day, Kaiser.” I glance to Kiwi, nodding her towards the entry hall. “Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

“At once chivalrous and misguided.” Kaiser remarks, his violet gaze straying to Kiwi. “It benefits me nothing to trifle with the object of your affections. You should know full well I am moved by practicality, not spite — even considering your threat.”

“You also taught me that assumptions are blind spots we should take advantage of when they present themselves in others, and avoid creating for ourselves.” I reply as Kiwi crosses behind me to the hall. “So I will not assume that it would be beneath you.”

Kaiser reaches up, adjusting his spectacles as I turn and follow after Kiwi. “So this is it, then? Show up, admit you cannot provide appropriate compensation for my services, dispense a threat, and leave expecting that I will join your cause? The least you could do is leave followup information on the unlikely chance that I find your arguments compelling.”

“You’re an adult and a consummate professional. If common sense finds you, then you will find ways to get in contact with the Valiant and request to join up.” I say just before disappearing into the hall. “See you later, Kaiser.”

I don’t wait for a reply, and Kiwi is already at the hatch, waiting for me. Following her out and back onto the street, I kick the door shut behind me, listening to it clank closed. “Sorry about sidelining you there. I just…”

“He really gets under your skin, doesn’t he?” Kiwi says, not needing me to finish. “I’ve never heard you threaten to kill someone outright before.”

“That’s his language. If you want to get anywhere with Kaiser, you need to speak it.” I say, starting to walk back the way we came. “And it can’t be empty threats. You have to mean it. He knows the difference between an empty threat and a weighted one.”

“You really would kill him if he joined CURSE, then?” Kiwi asks, tucking her hands into the pockets of her hoodie as she walks alongside me.

“In a heartbeat.” I answer. “He’s one of the few that I would. One of the few that I would have to. I could justify leaving most other people alive; I feel like I could reason with them, and even if I could not convince them, I’d still try to capture or imprison them, as they’re not enough of a threat to justify killing them outright. But I do not have that luxury with Kaiser.”

“He’s that dangerous?” Kiwi asks skeptically.

“Absolutely. With Kaiser it’s not a matter of power, but of raw brutality and ruthless brilliance.” I reply. “He’s not the one pulling the trigger most of the time, but he’s the one that makes sure all the pieces are in place so someone else can do so. And when he’s handling a job personally, you know that it will get done quickly, quietly, and efficiently. They call him the Butcher of Balmorrah for a reason.”

“And you just wanna leave him there to make the decision on his own?” Kiwi says, glancing over her shoulder. “If he’s so much of a threat and there’s a chance that he might decide to join CURSE anyway, seems like we should just go back and kill him before he has a chance to do that.”

“That’s not how I do things.” I decline. “He may be a threat, but I still have to give him a chance. But that’s all I owe him. If he makes his choice, and his choice is CURSE, then I don’t have to feel bad about killing him.”

Kiwi quirks her mouth in a frown. “Hmm. Doesn’t sit right with me, leaving a threat like that alive.”

“Well, for now it’s not your choice to make.” I say as we start to come up on the street running through the Rat’s Maze. “But you told me earlier you had a Mask collector you were trying to catch, so now that we’re done with my task…” I give her a smile. “Would you like some help with yours?”

Kiwi blows a raspberry at me. “It’s the least you owe me after shutting down my murder itch. C’mon, let’s go — the Mask collector’s rendezvous with the seller was supposed to be near here. We might still be able to get there a little early and settle in for an ambush.”

“After you, then.” I say, following as Kiwi takes the lead, and we head out into the streets of the Ravines.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Ravines: The Raven Market

6:08pm SGT

“It was supposed to be in here…” Kiwi murmurs as we work our way through one of the subterranean complexes in the lower levels of the Ravines. The open hall we’re currently treading through is a rough-hewn thing; no care was taken to smooth out the walls or the ceiling. Purely utilitarian; a tunnel from point A to point B, with other tunnels connecting it to rooms and caverns.

“Any clues on what our target looks like?” I ask quietly, checking the charge on my stunner. I’d prefer to conserve my shots, since I used up a good chunk of the battery during the fight in the orbital elevator.

“I wasn’t really paying attention during the briefing. All I know is she’ll have tits and a portable case.” Kiwi answers, her wristmarks lit up and orbiting around her wrist as we come start to approach a section of the hall that’s been left open to an adjoining cavern. “Should be pretty easy to pick her out of the group.”

I open my mouth, close it, and think about how to respond to that. “Tits and a suitcase. Are all your target descriptions this… descriptive?”

“I’m sure there was more, but let’s be real. The crime population skews male. All I needed was tits and a suitcase, and I’ve got a pretty good idea of what I’m looking for.” Kiwi replies as we come up on the cavern. Thick, natural columns support this side of it, with the gaps between them providing a way into the cavern itself. There’s no doorway, likely because there was no need to carve them when there’s a half-dozen natural entryways. Which Kiwi proves, stepping through one of them right now. “This was it; this was where they were supposed to rendezvous.”

I follow behind her into a wide cavern with an uneven floor, trash strewn in the corners and demonstrating that it clearly sees semi-frequent use. There are irregular, darkened stains on the ground where deals have clearly gone wrong, but there’s no one in here. Everything’s quiet, with the makeshift lanterns flickering where they’ve been wedged in the wall, several probably close to the point of needing a battery replacement. “When did you say they were supposed to arrive again?” I ask.

Kiwi checks her phone. “About ten minutes ago, by standard galactic time. That’s weird; I wonder if my phone’s off-sync…”

“You’re on time.”

I hunch down on reflex, twisting around. I’d heard the whispers in my head a half-second before the voice hit my ears, and I instantly knew what it was. There’s a psion in here with us; after months spent with Midnatt and Sol, I’d recognize that kind of voice anywhere. Whirling around with my finger tense on the trigger of my stunner, I sweep around the cavern until I catch sight of a darker shadow sitting on the ledge above the gaps we’d entered through.

“Venox! What are you doing here?” Kiwi calls. “I thought you were going to be running recon parallel to us.”

“I was. Until you crashed an orbital elevator and nearly killed everyone onboard.” the shadow answers, and I can now make out a cloak, a pair of fuzzy hindpaws, and twin rings of luminous blue underneath a hood. Even it he’s still lounging in the dark, I’m pretty sure I’m looking at a Viralix. “Forecast retasked me to shadow you and make sure to get you to safety in case any of Halomor’s powers-that-be came looking for you.”

“Well, since you two are on talking terms, I assume I’m not going to be doing any shooting, then?” I ask Kiwi, lowering my stunner.

“Yeah, you can put that away for now.” Kiwi says, letting her wristmarks fizzle out. “Songbird, this is Venox, the shadow for my team. He scouts ahead, does recon, and provides backup when we’re in a tough spot. I know he looks small, but he can hold his own, and then some.” she explains, then gestures to me with faux grandeur. “Venox, you know Songbird, obviously, but since this is your first time meeting him face to face — meet Feroce Acceso, my favorite, and final handler.”

“He made quite a splash on Talingrad.” Venox remarks drily. “I must admit I’ve never seen a toilet plunger and an apple pie deployed in quite that way before. And in the middle of a pop concert, no less.”

I sigh, reaching up to massage my brow as I squeeze my eyes shut. “This is gonna be a recurring thing, isn’t it.”

“If it makes you feel better, Kiwi’s little stunt with the orbital elevator has cost us our mission here on Halomor.” Venox continues. “The Mask collector spooked when word of who was responsible for the elevator crash rippled across Halomor’s surface. She has gone to ground, and rescheduled the rendezvous she had with the seller.”

“Oh c’mon, don’t pin that on me!” Kiwi protests. “It’s not like I wanted to crash the elevator! We got attacked! I mean, well, technically Songbird got attacked, and then I came and saved him—”

“Hey now, it was group effort.” I point out. “I helped, it wasn’t like I just stood there and let you do all the work.”

“Well yeah, but let’s be honest, I carried a lot of it.” Kiwi shrugs, turning her palms up.

“Yeah, because you were skimming power off me.” I scoff.

“As cute as this is, there are more important matters to be tending to.” Venox interrupts before Kiwi can reply. “With our target gone off the radar, we have no more reason to be here. The Council has ordered us to return to Nichoyae to be retasked—”

“Works for me.” Kiwi says, starting back towards the column gaps. “Let’s go, Songbird. Forecast will probably be down to pick us up in the Featherfell in a couple hours.”

“Does the Challenger not have a ride back to his ship?” Venox asks, those double rings of blue fixing on me.

“Hell if I know, but it doesn’t matter.” Kiwi says, slipping through one of the gaps and back out into the hall. “He’s gonna be coming with us back to Nichoyae.”

Venox slides off the ledge in a single fluid motion, cloak billowing as he lands on the ground and pads after her. “Forecast did not tell me anything to that effect.”

I follow them out into the hall as Kiwi answers. “Because Forecast doesn’t know. I haven’t told him yet.”

“So you did not actually obtain permission for this.” Venox concludes. “Forecast will not approve it.”

“Doesn’t matter if he approves it. If Songbird can’t come with us to Nichoyae, I’ll go with him back to his Bastion. But I’m not gonna be separated from him again.” Kiwi says, twisting around and walking backwards so she can face Venox. “You gonna try to stop me?”

After a moment, Venox looks back at me, and I shrug. “There’s a few things I’d fight her on. This one probably isn’t a good one.”

“I am well aware of that. I have had to deal with her flightiness for far longer than you have.” Venox replies. “It is not my place to decide what she can or cannot do. If both of you are in accord about this, then I will escort you to the Featherfell so you can plead your case to Forecast.”

“Great! Because you wouldn’t have been able to stop me even if you wanted to.” Kiwi says, turning and practically skipping back down the tunnel. “C’mon, Songbird! I’m just dying to see the look on Forecast’s face when he sees what I’ve brought back.”

I tuck my hands in my pockets as we filter back the way we came, and I can’t help but smile as I call back to her. “At least text him and let him know what to expect! He’s going to be so pissed if I show up without explanation…”

“Exactly! If you haven’t pissed off your girlfriend’s dad, are you even really living, Songbird? Now let’s pick up the pace; the sooner we get there, the sooner I can disappoint him!”