It was late evening the next day by the time the shuttle landed again in New Qzcivden, this time in a registered flight. Larry Denton stepped out with his wife and children with all paperwork in order to watch the games in just a few days. Better, since Larry had clearly arrived after the Lieutenant had registered in person, he was even less likely to be connected to the Lieutenant by official investigators. Officially, he’d end up spending the actual tournament time in the bathroom, blowing chunks. In reality, he’d be going through the maintenance access in his bathroom to the drain system, where he’d take a pulse-car to the tournament and participate as the Lieutenant.

All that was, of course, the main objective. It was a kind bonus given by the universe that he now had the week to spend with his family on the island city. It had been quite a long time since he had been able to walk around with them in public. The Resistance kept him fairly busy, particularly considering his position.

He was fairly certain that the only reason the Lieutenant was even being allowed to participate this year was that he was already the champion. If he had been substantially linked to any violent activities against the Thorlinthians, it would have been another story. As it was, the Lieutenant was officially just a supporter, which wasn’t illegal. No evidence had ever been left that he was an actual member of the Resistance. Even less evidence had been left that he was Larry Denton. Larry had intentionally stacked the evidence against that notion time after time, leaving him in the clear to travel whenever he had time.

Now, he was shaving on the top floor of the world’s finest hotel. As the Lieutenant, he had given the room to himself. The Lieutenant was supposedly afraid of heights, anyway. It was on his bio, after all. What kind of person would deny a biography’s viability when it had been officially endorsed by its subject. And as the Lieutenant’s biographer and long-time friend, Larry had few reasons to be held suspect for being shown such generosity by the Lieutenant. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he kept the two separate in his own mind sometimes.

“Larry, hon, can you come help me with little Drake’s pajamas?” Nora called out to her husband from the other side of the large suite. Larry washed his hands and wiped off his face before joining his wife in the effort of putting on his disabled son’s night clothing. Normally, she didn’t ask for help, but Larry treasured the moments he was able to spend with his son, who had been named after an old friend who officially had died years ago in a plane crash.

Drake Denton had a form of cerebral palsy called spastic quadriplegia. As such, he required assistance with most tasks, including changing his clothing. Despite being almost six years old on Phoenix Day, Drake had required use of diapers and a feeding tube, along with daily physical therapywhen Larry was away. Since the Thorlinthians’ arrival, however, he only required assistance with tasks requiring use of major voluntary motor functions, since he now employed use of a Thorlinthian assisted living device that allowed removal of the feeding tube and gave Drake continence for the first time in his life.

“Hey, there’s my boy!” Larry said as he walked into the room. Drake smiled at his dad’s appearance but didn’t speak due to the candy in his mouth, which Nora had a habit of giving him to keep him from getting upset when he was being changed. Now nearing ten years old, however, it was more simply a treat since he had become exceptionally well-mannered over the years. Larry went over to his son and started putting on his pajama shirt, which had his favorite Japanese cartoon character on it. (Drake insisted that anime was different from normal cartoons, and Larry had no reason to disagree, but it was an argument Drake enjoyed having, so Larry still feigned total ignorance whenever the subject came around.)

“Do you think we should go to the zoo tomorrow, Lar?” Nora turned to her husband as she finished wrangling Drake’s socks on. “Drake was saying earlier that he was hoping to see if they had a dragon here, and I can’t say the prospect hasn’t crossed my mind, either.” She smiled and gave her boy a few kisses on the cheek, making him smile ear to ear.

“Well, there aren’t really dragons, per se, you know,” Larry said. At this, he got a groan from both parties present, so he added, “Well, dragons are lizards. The drig is a flighted mammal with a really tough and thick hide, and the wyrms are all basically flightless drigs. They’re monotremes, which means they’re mammals that lay eggs, and they have scutes over their bellies that make them look like a reptile from below, but they have fur all over the rest of their bodies and are warm-blooded.”

His wife and son gave him a look that said they didn’t particularly care about those differences. Just in time, Larry’s five-year-old daughter, Sarah, came along. “Daddy’s right. Dragons are reptiles. Still, daddy,” the little girl gave her father a teasing look, “there should be dragons at the zoo since they keep Komodo dragons there, too.” Larry picked up his little girl and gave her a bear hug. Sarah had been named after Terira, and the little genius had earned the name very early in life. Even compared to most Thorlinthian children, Sarah would be considered brilliant, as her memory and reasoning skills were on par with those of Valkyries.

“See, Dad,” Drake had apparently finished his candy. “But I did mean the drigs. Do you think they’ve got drigs at the zoo?” He gave his dad an embarrassed smile, which earned him a hug of his own.

“I think they’ve got one drig and a few different wyrms there, but I think you’re going to like the ulfr. It’s a flying dog.” At this, both children’s eyes grew wide. They loved dogs. “Of course,” he added, “they’re not pets. They just look like dogs. They don’t like people, though.” The kids frowned slightly, but they still seemed eager to see the flying dogs and dragons.

“But that’s tomorrow,” Nora chipped in, tucking Drake in as Larry took Sarah back to her bed. “You have to go to sleep first. Today’s been a big day. We got to see lots of new things and fly over the ocean, so I think that’s enough for one day.” Everyone said their good nights, and the parents sang their songs. The day was over. It was time for bed.

“Boss, what’s going on?” Mickey was clearly concerned. After only a few minutes in a private room with a Dragon Rider, he had come out and started ordering his team to back off of their positions. That was enough to cause anyone concern on its own, but there was something in the Lieutenant’s voice that he had never heard before.

“The problem’s being handled. Just do what you’re told and shut this down! No questions.” Larry’s voice had a disconcerting edge to it. Mickey wasn’t sure what about it was so disturbing, but he was definitely bothered by the tone the Lieutenant was using. Nevertheless, he trusted his leader’s judgement, so he put away his binoculars and started his way back to the shuttle.

Colton, on the other hand, was a bit less cooperative. “What are you playing at, boss man? I don’t have any intention of pulling out until I know exactly what’s going on.” He even went so far as to stand during the statement, a pointless gesture considering the fact that the person he was talking to wasn’t there to see it. The people sitting around him, however, were quick to notice that Colton was clearly insane, and their expressions made this line of thought clear. After a few glances around himself, Colton sat down again. “Look, boss, there’s clearly something you’re not telling us. What’s going on?”

Larry made his way through the crowd. If he was right, there was something Drake wasn’t telling him. No, that wasn’t quite right. There was something Drigondii Sheii’Cronell wasn’t telling him. Drake was either gone or sealed away right now. He had to be Drigondii for what he was doing right now. Drake Kendrick wouldn’t have had the heart to do the things for which Drigondii was responsible. As he thought about it, he felt a warm tear building in his eye. “Colton, I said no questions. Shut it down. Meet me in the shuttle in two hours.”

Sighing, Colton stood again and started walking out of the stadium. “Fine. Whatever, boss. Let’s just pack up and leave the city to blow. That’s a fantastic idea…” He threw his arms up in another unseen gesture. Looking around, he realized that he was again making a pointless expression and dropped his arms. “In any case, this just seems like a really strange thing to do when you rushed us down here so fast from Drury Lane.”

Over the wireless, a round of agreements could be heard. In response, Larry said, “I’ll tell you what’s going on when we’re all back on the shuttle. Just get there. Now!” He started pushing his way through the more crowded part of the contestants’ area toward the exit. Silence followed this last order. The hesitance heard in his voice earlier had been replaced by anger. The Lieutenant was not known for being tolerant of insubordination.

After a few minutes, Larry had made his way back onto the street and was nearing the entrance to the subsurface drainage system where the pulse-car he would take back to the shuttle was parked. When he rounded the last corner, he finally ran into what he was expecting ever since he stepped out of the private room. There was an Armadian special forces unit scanning the area, and they were looking for any Resistance members, which he happened to be.

Walking up calmly, Larry called out to the investigators. “Excuse me,” he said, “Hi, I’m the Lieutenant, reigning World Kohstr Champion. I’m going to be defending my title later this week. Listen, I dropped my deck into the drains a block or so away. Is there any chance I could get through to that entrance and try and find it.” A few looks went around, and a whispered conversation took place between two of the men in the unit. They book looked at him again, and the shorter of the two looked back to Larry and nodded. “Thanks, guys.”

“Sure thing,” the man said. “Hey, good luck this weekend. You’re going to need it. You’re up against a Dragon Rider this year. He’s an Osgordian named Grie Khuda’Mundi, and he’s the Armada’s best player.” He smirked at Larry, who nodded his head in thanks and headed through the entrance into the drains. Sure enough, they hadn’t checked down here. There were probably different units for different layers of the city. Smiling to himself, Larry got into the pulse-car and headed for the outer edge of the city.

By the time he got his pulse-car into the cargo hold of the shuttle, the rest of Larry’s team had already assembled in the main cabin of the shuttle. Closing the cargo doors, Larry walked into the cabin and removed his helmet to a room of disgruntled team members with arms crossed and backs against the bulkhead. “So, what the hell is going on, Larry?” Summer was clearly pissed, but it was the fact that she used his first name that surprised Larry the most. She hadn’t called him that in years.

“He’s here, Summer. Drigondii Sheii’Cronell is in the city.” While Colt and Mickey burst into an uproar, Summer and Angus joined Larry in gazing at the deck. After a few seconds of eye-rubbing, Larry raised his hands to silence his comrades. “Look, there’s nothing we can do with Drigondii here. And there’s nothing we need to do. As long as he’s in the city, no explosives are going to go off, no assassination attempts are going to be successful, and no one with ill intent is going to make it within a mile of the stadium. There are Dragon Riders all throughout the stadium, which tells me that there are Valkyries watching the perimeter. That’s why I called this off. There’s nothing to worry about, and I have to get you guys out of here before we’re found out.”

“Won’t people notice when you don’t show up for the tournament? I mean, you came and registered. They know you were here. It’s going to be very suspicious when you don’t show.” Angus had a good point. There was no way Larry could get out of taking part without being held suspect, particularly after his interaction with that special forces unit earlier.

“I’ll come back as soon as I get you guys to safety. I can’t let you stay here, though, and I wouldn’t be able to rest if I didn’t know you had made it. So,” he clapped his hands together, “Mickey, get in that cockpit. Get us in the air and head for the nearest friendly dock.” Mickey nodded and headed into the cockpit, closing the door behind himself. “Colt, I want you to double-check our weapons inventory. If we’re missing a single bullet, I want to know as soon as you’re done.” Colt grunted in acknowledgement and headed into the cargo bay.

“So, did he talk to you?” Summer waited until Colt had made it down into the cargo bay to bring it up, but Larry had known it was coming.

“Yeah, but there wasn’t a whole lot said. He just said what he needed to say to get us to leave, and there wasn’t a whole lot else to say after that. I mean, were we going to chat about ruling the world and what that’s like for him or what it’s like for me to be fighting against him? No, there wasn’t anything to talk about. What about you? Did you get what I asked you to pick up?”

Angus pulled out a small cloth-wrapped bundle. “Sara sends her regards and hopes Nora’s doing well. She invited everyone to dinner, though obviously the Lieutenant and his crew aren’t welcome. Just family, so no suits. They’re back in the old Kendrick house. The dinner’s next Wednesday. Also, she wanted me to give you this.” He reached into his pocket and handed Larry a small Thorlinthian data drive. “She wanted to know if you knew what it was, so I’m assuming something mysterious is on there because I’m pretty sure she knows what a data drive is.”

Larry chuckled. “Yeah, she does. Thanks, Angus. I’m going to check this out.” He held up the data drive while he put the bundle in the pocket opposite his Kohstr deck. He then walked into his room and shut the door.

“Well, that was pleasant, wasn’t it?” Summer smiled up at Angus.

“Yeah! If pleasant has a completely different meaning these days. Come on. Let’s go to bed. I haven’t slept in days.” He wrapped his arm around his wife and led her to their room.

Soon, the main cabin was empty, save for the lone sound of wind rushing over the hull of the shuttle as it passed over the Atlantic.

Breath fogged up Grie Khuda’Mundi’s HUD inside his helmet. The dark red of the display provided just enough light that he could see a faint reflection of his face on the heavy ceramic of the visor. Designed to be used in the deepest regions of space or in the hottest areas in a TMDS driver, his armor kept him a comfortable temperature even as the blizzard persisted all around him. The extra-visible filtering in the cameras mounted on his helmet allowed him to maintain his 360 degree visibility even in such conditions as these, which allowed him to see the escaped ice wyrm in front of him.

Commonly known as the King of the Rime, the ice wyrm was a beast on par with the drig in its native environment, which just happened to be conditions such as those surrounding it right now. Normally, the ice wyrms were kept in a well-heated enclosure in a sedated state, since they had extremely slow metabolisms and wouldn’t atrophy as quickly as other animals, making it an ideal fresh food supply on long journeys through space. While its meat was a bit tough and gamey, a single ice wyrm could feed hundreds of men for a week, so it was a common meat on ultracarriers.

Where its presence was particularly less common, however, was on the ice and snow-covered tundra of Antarctica. Here, the ice wyrm would be a predator unsurpassed. And since ice wyrms were capable of reproduction by parthenogenesis, this single ice wyrm escaping into the wild could turn into a very big problem, completely displacing the natural balance of Antarctica’s ecosystem. Even in the warmer environment of the deep sea, it would be more than a match for any creature that would dare challenge it.

Which brought about why Grie was quietly approaching the ice wyrm to kill it before it had the chance to reproduce. As a Dragon Rider, he was the type to be assigned tasks dangerous as this was. He had been tracking the majestic beast for the past several hours, but now, it was time to attack. Grie slowly reached down to his leg, where he kept his assault knives. Today, they would be little more than a source of surprise since they would barley be able to penetrate the tough leather surrounding the wyrm’s thick flesh. He had to be very careful with the timing. Ice wyrms were typically lured into an area where they were heated and then beheaded with a hydraulic guillotine. He only had his knives and swords, along with a repeater he had brought along, just in case.

As he slowly pulled the knives from their sheathes, he had to remind himself just how sensitive the hearing of the ice wyrm was. Since it had long ago adapted to the dark of the Nivlahimi seas and caverns, the ice wyrm had no eyes, but its watertight ears were capable of picking up even the tiniest noises, and the beast could pick up a scent from distances exceeding the lengths of continents. Grie’s only advantages over this beast would be his Drigarmr, what little surprise he could muster together, and the fact that the ice wyrm hadn’t eaten in several cycles, leaving it thoroughly weakened but still powerful enough to tear through the hide of a whale with a nonchalant swipe.

Grie raised his arm behind him, aiming intently at the massive beast before him. Ice wyrms had taken out Valkyries who hadn’t been paying close enough attention. He loosed the first knife, the second aligned for aim before the first had even reached the beast. By the time the ice wyrm had picked up the sound of the blade specifically designed not to produce noise, it was already within arm’s reach of the beast. When the beast turned toward the approaching second blade, Grie could see that the knife was only protruding by about a hand’s width. That was good. It meant the wyrm wasn’t fully mature, leaving its hide slightly less toughened than the older wyrm’s nigh-impenetrable leather.

The second blade was much more fortunately placed than its predecessor, its tang fully penetrating into the softer flesh of the ice wyrm’s throat. The beast reared back onto its hind legs, its outstretched claws a silent reminder of just how quickly Grie could be dead if he missed the timing. He gritted his own teeth and leaped forward, his arms almost automatically drawing his swords. He spun out of the way of the wyrm’s swiping claw just in time to avoid a swift death.

Unfortunately, the ice wyrm had more than one form of attack. Just as Grie landed, sliding to a stop and prepping for another leap, the wyrm’s left tail-fin collided with his side, loosening his grip and toppling him in the other direction. Grie tumbled to a halt just in time to use his rattled arms to push himself directly up and out of the way of the wyrm’s second claw-swipe. He pulled himself into a flip, landing only moments after the claw had passed. He gripped his swords more tightly and pressed the backs of the blades against his sides as he jumped into another spin.

Just as he had predicted, the wyrm’s right tail-fin had found its way to him. This time, though, he was ready. His blades were positioned precisely where the fin struck, and the ice wyrm pressed into its own injury, cutting the end of its tail off entirely. Using his feet to regain a sense of balance upon landing several arms’ lengths away from his intended destination, Grie brought the blades forward and lunged toward the pained beast’s torso.

This time, Grie didn’t have time to spin out of the way of the wyrm’s attack. Just as he finished pressing his swords into the beast’s chest, the heat of a rather large paw came sweeping into Grie’s view. Fortunately, the wyrm had been painfully aware of how close Grie was to its own flesh, so it had retracted its claws to get closer.

Grie had only been knocked aside, but as he rolled across the snow-covered ice, he remembered that he no longer had his swords. He drew the repeater from its holster and aimed for the beast’s nostrils. Just as he suspected, the wyrm’s nostrils were flarin
g as the beast roared in fury. He fired with an adrenaline-driven precision he had learned to summon in his training as a Dragon Rider. The hot bolt seared the air through which it passed as it journeyed toward the beast, leaving a trail of superheated air behind it hot enough to light up, creating the appearance of a beam of light passing from Grie’s repeater into the beast’s skull.

Its brains properly scrambled, the ice wyrm fell to the ground, dead, its massive chest creating a plume of snow upon impact. Grie holstered his repeater, removed the blades from the ice wyrm’s flesh, and activated the signal marking the completion of his mission. Once he saw in his display that the signal had been received, he gave in to the pain of his shattered bones and slumped to the ground against the wyrm’s warm side. He lost consciousness quickly due to the internal blood loss now taking place all across his battered body.



“And what, pray tell,” said Larry, “should I know at this point, Grie?” He placed his deck on the table between them.

“Well,” Grie replied rather plainly, “I imagine you’ve probably figured out that Baker was planning to take out New Qzcivden during this tournament. Carden’s dead, by the way.” Grie drew his hand in time with Larry as the latter absorbed the impact of Grie’s final comment.

“So who registered for him?” Larry placed his first card face-down, leaving him open to place another card face-up or end his turn. A swipe of his hand indicated that he was finished.

“That would be a man by the name of Gordon.” Grie placed a face-down card of his own before playing the loptr card, a play indicative of his experience. Larry raised his brow slightly at this before drawing a card and immediately placing it face-down. “Apparently, Gordon is just meant to draw suspicion away from Carden’s absence.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Larry said, playing the rime card face-up, negating the advantage of the loptr. “Carden came in third place last year. It’d be suspicious if he didn’t show up. It’s too bad about his death, though. He was a good player.”

Grie drew his next card, passing his turn. “Anyway, we think there’s a good possibility someone plans to bomb the city, so we’ve got everybody acting like nothing’s wrong at all while putting extra personnel in place all over the city in civilian gear.”

“We?” Larry questioned the word’s use as he drew his own card, placing another in his hand face-down. The door opposite the one through which the men had entered opened, and Larry dropped all pretenses along with his cards and stood to face the man he knew as Drake Kendrick but was known to the world as Drigondii Sheii’Cronell. “Drake! What are you doing here?”

Drigondii smiled at his old friend sadly. “It’s not Drake anymore, Lar. You know that. I’m here to make sure nothing happens. I can feel the bombs, and I’ve sent Terira to take care of them. You can call off your team. Nobody’s sinking my new Atlantis.” Larry swallowed, and he fought back tears as he realized that Drake’s eyes were burning a bright red. He just nodded silently and put up his deck, placing his helmet back over its seal.

Before opening the door that would enable communication once more, Larry turned the visor of his helmet to Drigondii. “What would your dad say to you today, Drake? Could he have survived this much heartbreak?”

Silence followed for a few secconds, and then, “You know it has to be done this way, Lar. If I did this any other way, we wouldn’t be able to do all of what must be done. We need their attention. But no, I don’t think he could have, and for that, I am sorry. Goodbye, Larry.”

“Goodbye, old friend.” With that, Larry opened the door and began to speak orders into his helmet. He hoped in those moments that Drake was still in there somewhere, and that Drigondii was right. He looked up and prayed. When would they come? How much longer would the wound have to fester before they came to clean it?

The sun beat down on Larry Denton as he walked along the sidewalk in New Qzcivden. As he passed by other pedestrians, he made note of the recent changes to the layout of the city since his last visit. As he walked by, various people turned and looked at him. The Lieutenant wasn’t frequently seen in public. Rumors had been going around that Earth’s Kohstr champion would be returning this year, but his participation had never been confirmed. As the reigning champion, however, he had the option to enter at the last minute.

New Qzcivden was an artificial island in the Atlantic Ocean, intended to be the new center of civilization on Earth. It was the only city in which there were no Earther Peacekeeper forces. It was policed entirely by Armadians. However, it was also the only city in which Earthers who wished had an opportunity to meet Thorlinthians off-duty and could even legally obtain certain Thorlinthian technologies, making it an enticing location for many.

Now surrounded by civilians and Armadians in standard kilted light armor, the Lieutenant stood out as the only person in a Peacekeeper uniform. He looked about at all the people staring at him and spoke into his secure wireless channel. “How are we looking, Mickey?”

From the top of Dragon Neck, the city’s central and by-far tallest tower, Mickey had a complete bird’s eye view of the city. Looking through his binoculars, he spoke quietly into his headset. “Everything looks good from up here, boss. The Texan’s in position, and the Happy Couple is en route. No signs of disturbance yet. You sure about this, L.T.?”

On the ground, Larry walked onward, inspecting every face he passed, every loose jacket, and every Armadian uniform, looking for possible weapons. “Oh, I’m sure. The hraustliger card always has a picture of a drig surrounded by hunters in the mosaic in the background. In this one, the hunters are being encircled by the drig. I’ve seen a card like this once before in my life, and that was at the tournament last year, when I was playing that Armadian, Carden. When I checked the roster, he was enrolled in the competition again this year. This didn’t have anything to do with the Dauntless. Baker’s mark was Carden, and I think he wanted to take out the entire city, which would require much more than one team. I think he wanted to distract us by sending us to the Dauntless while an operation took place here. He knew we wouldn’t intentionally take out civilians.”

“Well, he was right about that!” Colt Tyson, codename Texan, sounded off loudly from his position in the stadium where the tournament was taking place. Many people around him turned and stared, so he added, “You can’t add peanut butter to a tuna sandwich. That’s just no good, Laura.” There was no Laura. He just wanted to explain why he might be yelling so fervently into a headset.

“Way to go, Texan,” Mickey said, his Lancashire accent making for a stark contrast to the Texan’s drawl. “You plan on busting this whole thing wide open?” After a few moments of silence, Mickey harrumphed and returned to his observational duties.

The Lieutenant rolled his eyes in his helmet as the exchange took place. The two were always picking at each other, and it was to the point where no one really cared as long as blows weren’t being exchanged, which did happen from time to time. “Anyway, Mickey, could you check the sky? Someone could be planning an aerial attack.”

“Are you serious, boss?” Mickey scoffed. “If that were to happen, there’s no way I’d catch them with binoculars, is there?” Nonetheless, he turned his eyes to the sky, scanning the scores of shuttles over the city, which were used in lieu of a subway or trolley system. “I’m not seeing anything yet, boss, but you’ll be the first to know if I do.”

“Thank you, Mickey,” Larry said as he reached the competitors’ entrance to the stadium. It was perhaps now that he stood out the most, since everyone here knew that he was, in fact, the famous Lieutenant. His was a household name around the planet, but it was only among Kohstr players where even Thorlinthians would turn heads to see him.

“Excuse me,” he said to the registrar, “I’m here to defend my title. Here’s my identification.” He handed the registrar the card he had been given the previous year. She ran it through the machine, nodded, and handed it back.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. We look forward to seeing how you play this year.” The registrar gave a look that made Larry slightly uncomfortable, so he just nodded back and moved into the practice area.

A hand came against the Lieutenant’s shoulder. “How’s it going, Lieutenant?” a familiar voice sounded off. “It’s excellent to see you again. I loved your performance in the games last year, and I’m sure it’ll be a spectacle to behold again.” Grie Khuda’Mundi was dressed in civilian clothes, but there was no mistaking an Osgordian. His green hair and violet eyes stood out from a mile away. How had Larry managed to miss him?

“Is that the Dragon Rider?” Mickey asked, his voice panicked. “What’s he doing here?”

“He’s here to compete,” Larry said into the private channel before switching to public, which enabled the speaker in his helmet. “How’s it going, Grie? I’m glad you decided to enter this year. I heard from the news that you were the Armada’s best player. I’m hoping it’ll actually be a challenge for once.”

“Well, I learned from the best, you know.” Trash talk like this was common in the hours preceding Kohstr competitions, but it wasn’t often people saw two giants such as these go at each other. “Though I’m sure you’ll make for a decent challenge when we play, and I have no doubt we’ll be playing. You’re deck is very nice. I’ve got one just like it. Would you like to have a practice match before the tournament starts up?” Grie pulled his deck from his pocket, the box an exact match for Larry’s own.

“Sure,” Larry replied. “I have a private room, since I won last year. Would you care to have it there?”

“I’d love to.” Grie’s voice had no enthusiasm in it, marked only by a cold, steely tension. The two headed toward the door to the private room reserved for the Lieutenant and guests.

“Boss?” Mickey asked. “Why would you go in there? You know it’s a black room. If you go in there, we won’t be able to hear what’s–” The signal cut off as the door closed.

“Hey, Lar. How are you doing, man?” Drake came into the room, where Larry was rapidly shuffling his Kohstr deck, which Terira had given him for a bag of crab apples. The sound of the metal cards clinking against each other seemed to dispel some of his nerves.

“What?” Larry looked up, dropping the cards on the floor, resulting in a sound similar to the pouring of coins into a counting machine.”Oh, hey, Drake. I’m — I’m doing great, yeah. Whoo!” He took a deep breath and widen his eyes. “Doing great… How about you, man? Do you think the whole thing’s going to go okay?”

“Lar, you were the first pure Earther to perform a Timids hype. You’ve been to the moon and back a hundred times. Terira and I are the only people on Earth that you can’t beat in a fight, and you’re one of the best men I know.” Drake grinned at Larry, who was just staring blankly at him. “I think you’re gonna be fine, Lar.”

Larry breathed hard again, nodding slowly and exaggeratedly. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m gonna be fine… Totally fine. Great, even! I’m going to be great…” He trailed off, returning to his thoughts and picking up his cards, which he then began to shuffle again.

“Lar, how have you never been caught with those things? They are so loud,” Drake said, nonplussed at his friend’s ability to prevent anyone else from realizing he had a deck of alien game cards.

“Oh, I just tell people they’re old trading cards and then make up the name of some fake anime when they ask what kind. They usually stop caring pretty quickly.” Larry stopped shuffling and looked at Drake. “You know, it does kind of play like a trading card game.” Drake and Larry exchanged looks of realization. “Dude, Drake, your people are a bunch of dorks that play a trading card game instead of poker.”

“That is so messed up, Lar. I can’t believe you would be so heartless as to point that out. Still, you’ve gotten way better at that game than I am, and you can even beat Terira most of the time, so who’s the bigger dork?” He gave Larry a joking punch on the shoulder.

“Hey, it’s not dorky for me. I got it from an alien.” Larry gave Drake a jab of his own, the sound of his arm cracking the air. Drake just brushed it off.

“Well, I mean, technically, Terira was born in the United States, same as you and me, so I’m not sure she qualifies as an alien.” Drake came quickly to the defense of his wife, who wasn’t in the room at the time.

“Dude, she has blue hair and eyes that literally shine. I think she can count as an alien, even if she was born here. She’s an Alien-American, but she’s still an alien.” The term Alien-American was a joke that Larry had come up with to describe his half-Thorlinthian friends. They seemed to find it just as amusing as he did.

“Yeah, yeah,” Drake said. “Well, since we’re aliens, then, we can’t be dorks, either, right?”

“No,” Larry replied. “You’re still dorks. You’re just Alien-American dorks.” He got another punch for that one. The young men chuckled, enjoying the calming effect the conversation had on both of them.

Larry’s watch started beeping, and Terira peeked her head in. Her hair was blue again, since people just wrote it off as being a great color job despite the fact that it was natural. Today, however, she was not sporting her usual straight bob; instead, she had brought it up into a traditional Thorlinthian double bun with tightly curled pigtail that she said called Maerskor. “Hey, hon. Is he ready to go?”

Drake looked at Larry, who nodded, smiled, and stood. “Yeah, he’s ready, Terira. I’ll see you in a bit, man. I gotta go.” He gave Larry a quick pat on the arm before walking out and joining his wife.

“Right!” Larry said to his Kohstr deck, since no one else was there to listen. He put the deck in its box and placed that in his jacket pocket. “Time to go get married…” He laughed for a few moments, sported a cheery smile, and walked out to wait for his bride at the altar.



“You alright, Grie?” Veriar opened the door and found a nervous Grie Khuda’Mundi nervously shuffling his Kohstr deck, relishing the sound of the clinking made only by the ever so rare Classics deck, which Priha’Di had given him shortly into their relationship. Apparently, she and her sister had played quite a bit as children. It had been one of the first things they both found they enjoyed when Pri was growing up. When she had given him the deck, he had thought she was just challenging him to a game, but apparently the decks were important to both of the girls, though Pri hadn’t seen Terira in several cycles.

“Yeah, Ver. I’m doing great, man. I was just thinking, though, what if I’m not good enough for her? I mean, come on. She’s a Valkyrie, and I’m — I’m just some Timids technician.” He sighed, putting the cards on the desk behind him and putting his hands over his face, leaning into his seat.

“What are you talking about, Grie?! It’s not like she hasn’t had plenty of time to walk out of this relationship any time she wanted. You’ve been together for over six cycles, man. This woman could have picked any guy she wanted, and she picked you. Not only did she pick you, I think she’s probably even crazier about you than you are about her!”

At this, Veriar was interrupted by Grie, who spoke through his hands, “Not possible. No one could be crazier about anyone than I am about her.”

“There you go, then.” Veriar patted Grie on the shoulder lightly. “No one’s more in love with anyone than you two are with each other. It’s not a matter of being good enough. You’re my best friend, Grie. You and your family have always been good to me. As far as I’m concerned, if anyone’s not good enough, it’s her. The fact that you’re worried it’s the other way around just shows how good you two are for each other.”

“Thanks, Ver. I appreciate it.” Grie grabbed his deck again and started to shuffle it. “How much longer until it starts?”

“You’ve got about…” Veriar looked at his timepiece. “Four millidays.” A knocking was heard, and Veriar’s wife, Avrin, peeked her head in, her green hair sporting the traditional Maerskor worn by female members of the wedding party.

“Ver, is Grie ready?” Veriar looked at Grie, who stood and shook his hand, and nodded back to Avrin.

“He’s ready,” Veriar said, more to Grie than to Avrin. She backed away from the door into the hallway. “I’ll see you out there, Grie. Good luck.” He smiled and gave Grie a quick pat on the shoulder before heading out with his wife.

“Right,” Grie said, putting his deck back into its box, which he placed in his uniform’s hidden pocket. “Time to go get married…” He chuckled, smiled broadly, and walked out to the altar to await his bride.



“What do we do now, L.T.?” Summer asked as Larry Denton walked out of the safe house. Her eyes were red from the tears that had been pouring down her face for the past several minutes as the team had listened to the intermittent screams and cries of Wilhelm Baker’s last moments as Larry had pulled out the information he needed about the way Baker’s own intentions had affected the Resistance’s plans.

“Well,” Larry said, “Now Mickey gives me back that card. I have a theory.” Mickey complied, his hands shaking as he held out the card. When Larry grabbed the card, he returned the cigarette that Mickey had dropped on the ground, only the end slightly burned. “You might want this back, Mickey.” Mickey smiled and put the cigarette back in its place in the cigarette box as Larry looked more carefully at the card.

After staring at the card for a few seconds, Larry handed it back to Mickey. “Now,” he said, “I call Nora and tell her I’m not coming home yet. This was a whole lot bigger than I thought at first. Let’s get going. We have to be in New Qzcivden by this time the day after tomorrow.” They loaded up the SUV in the driveway and headed back to the shuttle.

“Hi. You must be Larry,” a young woman, no younger than 20, said to Larry at Sara’s family reunion. He began to try to remember how to form the word “yes” but was soon supplemented.

“Yes, he is,” a mischievous Summer Early said as she snuck behind Larry, placing both her hands on his shoulders. Larry jumped slightly, and Summer laughed. “Larry, this is Sara’s cousin, Nora. She’s in her second year of college. Nora, Larry is a brilliant martial artist. Aren’t you, Larry?” She gave Larry a knowing look.

“Uh, yeah,” Larry finally chipped in. “I guess I’m alright. What are you studying, Nora?” He wasn’t sure exactly what Summer was playing at, but he was fairly certain that she was trying to atone for dating Angus when she had been friends with Larry for so much longer. Whatever reasons she had, Larry didn’t mind the effort.

“Oh, I’m taking Pre-Med classes right now. I really want to be a doctor, but I’m also studying Judo. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I really like martial arts. Well, I suppose everyone in our family does. Angus just started studying Krav Maga.” She smiled. Larry wondered if Angus was looking for a rematch.

“Judo, huh?” Larry thought hard, trying to remember from all the martial arts books he had read. “That’s mainly focused on holds and throws, right?” Nora nodded, and the conversation took off from there. Larry mainly talked about football and training, and Nora talked about medicine and training. The two found out over the next couple of hours that they had quite a bit in common, and before Drake and Sara hauled him off to go to 53, Nora gave Larry her number.



“Well, that was more fun than you expected, wasn’t it, Lar?” Drake was teasing Larry over a game of Kohstr, a Thorlinthian card game that involved a deck of over three hundred completely unique cards that Larry still didn’t understand at all. Luckily, it was a game at which Terira was quite skilled, so she acted as referee, informing the boys who had just won the round and keeping score, which wasn’t even summative, entirely in her head. Remarkably, Larry was about as good as Drake at having absolutely no clue how to play the game, so they each won about as often as the other.

“Yeah,” Larry said as he placed one of the metal cards on the table, face-up. Terira almost laughed when he did, but she managed to stop just short of turning her face a red to match what her hair was supposed to look like after the dye but which had never shown up on her head. “Wait, what? Sara, what’d I do wrong?” Even knowing her real name, Larry was more accustomed to the name Sara, and he had difficulty saying, “Terira,” properly. She said it was like listening to a drig die, which could only be an insult.

“Well, you just played a ‘narr’ class card face-up.” When this apparently didn’t explain anything to Larry, she went on. “The narr is like a zombie. Playing it face-up turns all your face-down cards to narr, which means you can’t play them except to attack face-up cards with the heili attribute.” Larry gave her an exasperated look and a shrug before she added, “Well, no one has any heili cards on the table. You just wasted your entire turn.”

Drake and Larry looked at each other suspiciously. Drake was the first to speak. “Terira, we have absolutely no idea how this game works. We just like the pictures and the sound the cards make when they hit the table.” It was true. The cards were laser-etched with ornate pictures, and when they were placed on the table, they made a pleasant clinking sound. Also, Terira giggled a lot because they were both so terrible at the game, and she barely ever giggled.

“You’ll get the hang of it eventually. Anyway, a multiple of 1.1 goes to Larry,” she said, holding back another giggle.



Larry shuffled his Kohstr deck another time, showing off to his wife, Nora, as he prepared for his match against the Armadian Ensign, Carden. “So, you’re sure you want to keep playing, little Tee?” So far, Larry had made it through all but two of the final rounds in Earth’s first annual Kohstr tournament, making him the last Earther in the competition for the past five rounds. The crowds were cheering relentlessly, though most of the Earthers still didn’t comprehend the game. Still, it was the first rivalry between Thorlinthians and Earthers that had been permitted in the two years since Phoenix Day, and the fact that there was still one Earther standing was encouraging. The Thorlinthians had sent two players from each ultracarrier, and Earth had sent seven players from each continent, excluding Antarctica, which had been completely inhabited by the Thorlinthians.

“How did you get a Classics deck, anyway?” Carden asked. “Did you kill an Armadian for it? They’re very rare, even in the Armada. I’m pretty sure the Earthers don’t print metal decks.” Larry had gotten very good at this story, but he decided to tell the short version, which was almost true.

“I traded one of you Tees a bag of vegetable plant seeds for it. I understand you guys really like your veggies, especially after spending so long in space just to get here.” In honesty, he had given Terira a bag of crab apples for it, and she had been more than happy to part with the deck for the delicious morsels.

“Right. Whatever,” Carden spouted off. He was the Dragon King’s best player, and he was losing the game by twelve hringrs. “Just set the deck and play your hand.” Larry had been working the game to this exact point. He set the deck, which he had just shuffled for the third time that game, which was a sign of how long the game had been going. He picked up his hand from the table and played the next card face-up in a field of face-down cards: the narr. He had been holding the card that entire game, and Carden’s field was entirely filled with heili-attributed cards. The game was over. Larry had shuffled the deck to give Carden time to forfeit, but Carden hadn’t realized he was being played as much as the deck.

The next round was a piece of cake for the Lieutenant, who hadn’t taken off the borrowed Peacekeeper armor for the entire tournament. A month later, the Lieutenant would be known as one of the most well-known proponents of the Resistance, as planned.



“Lieutenant, is that really necessary?” The Muffin Man walked into the room, where Larry had been impatiently and rather loudly playing a game against himself. His deck still had that familiar clinking sound every time a card was placed, and not everyone enjoyed its tinny tone. “I must say, I had my doubts that you really were the same Lieutenant who’s had such a public presence in politics, but that deck seems to confirm it. You’re the only Earther with a Classics deck. I don’t think anybody’d forget that.”

“Sorry, sir. I hope you’ll forgive me if I leave my helmet on. My family relies on the fact that nobody knows who I am. The Lieutenant may be an outspoken Resistor, but I have no interest in getting my wife and children involved with any of that.” He put away the deck and stood to shake the Muffin Man’s similarly gloved hand.

“Now that, Lieutenant, I can understand. It’s no secret what the Tees do to the families of known Resistors. I have similar motivations, though admittedly, I think we both would rather not be publicly executed, either.” At that, he used his other hand to slap the Lieutenant’s shoulder. “On the other hand, there are those like Mr. Shore who just like to dare the Tees to find him with video transmissions with his face all over them.” He let out a mighty guffaw as he gave Mickey a bear hug.

“Now, about that mission I have planned for you all…” As soon as the embrace had ended, the Muffin Man was all business. There wasn’t much time for a man like himself to be social, and he was managing other matters on his HUD inside his helmet even as he continued. “I need you to perform an Oswald.” His voice was completely serious, and the team looked at each other nervously. Assassinations were dangerous, to say the least.

Eventually, everyone in the team looked to the Lieutenant, who shrugged and looked back to the Muffin Man. “Who’s the John, sir?”

The Muffin Man handed him a worn-out paper Kohstr card. “This has all you need to know.” It was the hraustligher card. The Dauntless.

“Understood, sir.” The Lieutenant handed the card to Mickey. “You know what to do, Mickey.” Mickey nodded, putting the card in the secret compartment of his cigarette box, which always had the fancy habit of having the same last cigarette in it. Mickey had quit smoking on the morning of Phoenix Day. The box had been a gift from his daughter, who had been a translator in the UN. She had refused to translate Drigondii Sheii’Cronell’s announcement, and she had been killed in the street in front of the UN’s headquarters. The cigarette was for the day he died, at which point he didn’t think she’d mind him having one last fag.

“Right, let’s get out of here,” Larry said. “Sir, I recommend you leave, too. I have a bad feeling.” He turned to leave, opening the door to the horrifying sight of a Dragon Rider whose Drigarmr looked like it had literally been hand-delivered from Hell. The kilt and sash were missing, having been completely burned away, and the skin of the armor itself had scorch marks covering its entire surface. Larry backed up, putting his arms out to defend his team and allow them and the Muffin Man to try to escape. They took his silent order, grabbing the Muffin Man and leading him to the other exit. As the Texan reached out to the door, however, a large knife flew across the room and into the jamb, jamming the door in place.

“Where’s everybody going?” asked Grie Khuda’Mundi, removing his helmet to reveal his green hair and violet eyes. “I just want to have a conversation with Mister Baker.” The Muffin Man turned at his name and fell to the ground in horror at the face he had feared ever seeing again for the past three years. “Well, I guess I was right on the money there. Get out of the way, Denton. I don’t have the patience for your games right now.” At the mention of his name, Larry frowned inside his helmet. He stepped out of the way without offering any more resistance.