Category Archives: Occupation

Hunting

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?

New Qzcivden

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.

A Day to Remember

“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.

Traitor

“Grie, you’ve got an incoming wireless connection from Osgord,” one of Grie’s friends from engineering said as he poked his head into the rec room. “You should probably take it. It’s your father.”

The Armada was just about to send its fleet through the Bifrost on the way to Earth. Transmissions past this point would be impossible. All correspondence would be relayed by courier ships past this point. Grie stood and walked to the wireless room for his last conversation with family before the hype into the Bifrost, which would be taking place in a few millidays. He stepped into a booth marked, “INCOMING: Recipient Grie Khuda’Mundi, Origin: Osgord Transmission Satellite 5.”

“Hi, Dad. We’re about to head through. Is there something wrong?” Grie was concerned. His grandmother had been in the healing station for radiation poisoning for the past few weeks. Her death was due any day now. “Is it grandmother?”

“No,” the tinnily relayed voice of Grie’s father said over the wireless. “Though she’s certainly not getting any better. It’s about our discussion right before you left.”

“Ah,” Grie exclaimed lightly. “Well, that’s sensible. It is a rather sensitive matter. Is this transmission secure enough to discuss it?” As he asked, he enabled the signal encryption protocols and place his cypher key into the comm unit as he sealed the sound blockers in the booth.

“It’s going to have to be, Grie. We don’t exactly have the luxury of the time necessary to set up something more secure. I’ve done what I can from this side.” Grie’s father sounded distressed.

“Same here, Dad. Encryption protocols active in three… two… one.” Grie turned the cypher key, and there was a series of clicks audible, indicating that his father had just done the same. “Is there something you need to tell me, Dad?”

“Yes. Your grandfather says he wants you to know that the Valkyries have been monitoring this planet, Earth, for a very long time. If you can get in touch with Veriar Khuda’Treer, the Blue should find its own way to contact you.”

“Wait, the Blue is going to contact me?” The Blue only contacted a select few of the Ginnung. It didn’t make Grie any more comfortable knowing that Veriar was under the Blue’s surveillance. Veriar probably didn’t even know. He sure wasn’t Ginnung.

“There’s no other way. Whoever the Blue is, he’s not sharing information with anyone but you. I don’t know why. Whatever’s going on, it’s way above me. Your grandfather knows, I’m sure, but he’s a bit preoccupied with your grandmother right now.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Thanks, Dad.”

“And Grie?” Grie’s father sounded nervous.

“What’s up, Dad?”

“Be very careful, son. I know how much of a risk this is for you. Don’t get yourself killed, alright?”

“I’ll do what I can, Dad. I guess I probably won’t talk to you again for a long time, so be safe, Dad. Take care of Mom.” Grie smiled slightly, and he just knew his father could see it, even if there was no way he could. At that moment, a claxon sounded throughout the ship, and the signal was cut as the TAS Dragon King hyped through the Bifrost.



“Wait, you’ve been helping us?” Mickey dropped his cigarette from between his lips. “But you’re a flipping Dragon Rider! There’s no one closer to the Sheii’Cronell than the Dragon Riders.”

Grie turned to Larry Denton, who had removed his helmet. “You really don’t tell your team anything extra, do you, Denton?” Grie made a face expressing dissatisfaction and turned back to Mickey. “Look, Mister Shore. I am perfectly capable of moving you out of my way, but I think it would be preferable if you would just move.”

Mickey looked exasperatedly to Larry, who nodded, his face grave. He didn’t look scared, though, which surprised Mickey. Now that he looked around, Angus and Summer didn’t look particularly frightened, either. He had no idea what was going on, but this situation clearly wasn’t what it had seemed to be at the beginning. He slowly walked toward the rest of the team and watched the fiasco unfold.

Grie reached down, violently grabbing the Muffin Man by the neck and slamming him against the wall. He then proceeded to remove the Muffin Man’s helmet, revealing Baker’s haunted face. “I present to you the traitor of the Earther Resistance, Wil Baker. This man has been rigging operations, intentionally harming and killing civilians who’ve expressed total compliance with the Monarchy.” He squeezed Baker’s neck more tightly, loosening his grip only when Baker looked like he was about to pass out.

“You can’t kill him, though. The Muffin Man is a figurehead in the–” Larry started off calmly before being cut off.

“The Muffin Man hasn’t shown his face to another living person since I arranged his official death three years ago. Even the few people who know who he really is haven’t actually seen his face or heard his real voice. I may not be able to kill the Muffin Man, but I can sure as the sky kill a dead man.” Grie snarled at Baker as he spoke, as if he were a caged animal waiting to attack his captor as soon as the cage opened.

“Yeah? And who’s going to be the new Muffin Man, huh? And why does he have to have such a stupid sounding codename?!” Larry had wanted to mention that last bit ever since he had joined up with the Resistance. As for his first question, the way his team looked at him made that answer clear. He frowned. Being the Lieutenant was hard enough.

“Well, the codename’s probably because his real name is Baker,” Summer chipped in. “Anyway, Grie, are you going to kill him or should we? I just figure you already got to kill the guy once, and I can’t imagine anyone in this room is a whole lot less inclined to do the same right now.” She realized after saying this that she had said Grie’s name, earning her a harsh look from both Larry and Angus.

“How’d you know his name, Summer?” Mickey asked, exchanging a suspicious look with the Texan, Colt Tyson, who repeated the inquiry.

Summer quickly did something Larry and Angus could never have done. She cited the news. “Grie Khuda’Mundi is the only Osgordian Dragon Rider in the Armada. There was a thing on the news about him a few weeks ago, when they did the special on the Dragon Riders. His picture was on it and everything. Do you guys seriously not remember this?”

Larry and Angus exchanged a look of amazement. They weren’t sure how, but she had just turned the question back on them. “Anyway,” Larry said, “we should probably figure out what to do with Baker here.” He stepped up to Grie. “I’m sorry things turned out the way they did, but you should probably leave before anyone else finds out you’re here. If anyone caught wind of the fact that a Dragon Rider spared even one person, ever, let alone five, that Dragon Rider’s allegiances would probably be publicly questioned.”

Grie nodded, put his helmet back on, and grabbed his knife from the doorframe, putting it back into its sheath on his right thigh. He walked out with silent footsteps. Five seconds after he had stepped outside, he was gone.

“Now,” Larry said, drawing his own knife, “why don’t you guys meet me outside in a few minutes? I’d like a few minutes alone with this idiot.” The team walked out and closed the door. As soon as they had, Baker began to struggle, trying to fight Larry, who used some of the skills he had learned from Terira to temporarily paralyze him.

As he began the slow work in which he was about to take no joy, Larry said, “Would you like to know how I really got my Kohstr deck, Mister Baker?”

Kohstr

“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.

Memories

Drake Kendrick closed his locker. “Look, Lar. I don’t see what the problem is.” Drake had just invited Larry to come with him to his girlfriend’s family reunion that weekend. Drake had been dating Sara for about two years now, and he wanted Larry to come with him because they were best friends, and Drake and Larry had been like brothers since Larry lost his family to a car accident. “I just figured it’d be cool if you could come with me. You’re like a brother, man.”

“Well, Drake, to be honest, it’s because a few months ago, I got into a fight with Angus over Summer, and I know for a fact that he’s bringing her to meet the family, too.” Larry had had a crush on Summer Early since kindergarten, and they had been good friends for years. Larry and Sara’s cousin, Angus both happened to tell Summer about their feelings over the same break period, and they had decided to fight over her. Larry won the fight (barely), which made Summer feel bad for Angus. The two had been dating since, and Larry still wasn’t quite over it.

“Come on, Lar. My dad’s out of town. You’re the only other family I’ve got. Please?” Drake gave his best puppy dog eyes, which made Larry shove his hand in Drake’s face to stop laughing.

“Alright, alright,” Larry agreed. Drake gave a quick victory fist pump before Larry added the condition, “but! You have to agree that we will all three leave if things get awkward.” Larry gave Drake a stern look, and Drake looked to the incognito Terira.

“Can we do that, Sara?” Drake asked, amusedly scanning the hair she had dyed red to prevent suspicious glances at her naturally blue do. Apparently, though, dying blue hair red turns it lavender. She had already gotten quite a few rude remarks from staff members, but luckily, there wasn’t anything in the school’s dress code about hair color. Drake thought the entire situation was hilarious, but Sara found the whole thing irritating. She really liked her hair.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Besides, Angus has been talking about Larry ever since he transferred schools.” If there was one thing other than Drake that Sara loved about Earth, it was her father’s family. Unfortunately, Frederick Ayling had died a couple of months before Sara had come back to Earth, so she had never gotten the chance to see him again after leaving as a child. “I think he still wants to be friends.”

“Alright, but anything gets too awkward?”

“We leave,” both Drake and Sara say simultaneously.


“In fact,” Sara chipped in, “I think I know exactly where we can go after the reunion!” She gave an excited smile to the boys, who both grinned. Obviously, she was referring to Valkyr 53, the spaceship she had parked on the edge of town by Drake’s house and disguised as a large Airstream. Since Drake hadn’t been able to keep himself from telling Larry all about Terira and Thorlinthia and his mother, she had decided to let Larry train in Thorlinthian fighting styles while Drake worked on controlling his power.

Since Larry had always wanted to learn martial arts and take weapons training, it had been a great chance for him. He had only used some of what he learned once to beat Angus Ayling in a squabble over a girl, but he had proven that day that he at least knew how to hold back to appropriate levels.

“Awesome! I love hanging out in 53. It’s like the treehouse we never had as kids, right, Drake?” Larry looked to Drake, who chuckled.

“Yeah, well, I think we’d have played different card games in a treehouse, Lar. Still, the reunion’s going to go great. We’ll have a great time.” Drake looked at his watch. “Oh, crap, we gotta go!” He patted Larry on the back and took Sara by the hand. “Come on, Sara. Larry, we’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah! Absolutely! I’ll see you guys at Sara’s house. I’d better get to the gym. Coach Weber’s being a total jerk about us being late on game days.” He turned and started to head in the opposite direction.

“Oh, right, Larry,” Sara said, stopping in the middle of the hall. “Good luck. I’m sure you’ll do great.” She smiled encouragingly at him before starting back on her way out of the school with Drake.

“Thanks, Sara,” Larry replied.



“Lieutenant? You alright?” Summer Ayling asked as the SUV escorting them to Drury Lane came to a stop.

“Yeah,” Larry said. “I was just thinking about some times back in high school.” Summer and Angus may have known about Sara Ayling and Drake Kendrick, but no one else in the vehicle did, and he had put a lot of effort into keeping it that way.

“Oh, god, don’t remind me,” Angus said. “I still can’t believe you beat me that badly in that fight. I mean, I was twice your size, mate. Not that I’m complaining. I think I got the better deal.” He smiled at his wife and kissed her lightly on the lips.

Summer just rolled her eyes and gave an amused smirk, “Is that why you transferred schools? Too embarrassed about losing?” Larry gave her a quick fist bump, and the three laughed it up.

“Nah. I just wanted to study martial arts, and there was nothing in that town for that sort of thing. Still can’t beat the Lieutenant in a fight, though,” he added, trying to put it in as an afterthought.

“Well, anyway, I suppose a lot’s changed since then, hasn’t it?” Larry knew it was time to refocus on the present. Now wasn’t really the time for humor, as much as they needed it. He opened the door and stepped out. “Let’s go meet the Muffin Man.” The whole team cast aside their grins and chuckles, taking on a somber tone more befitting to the situation before following him out.



“Oh yes,” Grie Khuda’Mundi said quietly to himself as he approached their location. “Let’s…”

The Importance of Good Intel

“Well, I don’t see how that could have gone a whole lot worse, Lieutenant,” Wilhelm said to Lieutenant Larry Denton over the shuttle’s wireless. “Even with the original objective complete, the rest of the world is only hearing about the tour group. The Tees are in complete control of the media. All anyone’s hearing about is the fact that the resistance just blew apart the only ship in the fleet with civilians on it. The Resistance has been officially marked as a terrorist cell. Even the general population is backing the Tees right now.”

“Sir, by the time we knew about the civilians, there wasn’t even enough time to abort the mission, let alone evacuate the civilians or change the target. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a set-up.” The Lieutenant looked away from the comm unit to think about that possibility. “Sir, do you think it’s possible that–?”

“I don’t even want to hear the rest of that question, Lieutenant!” The angry tone of the Muffin Man’s voice made it apparent that he wasn’t going to tolerate the direction in which the Lieutenant was taking the conversation. “I personally know the man who provided that intel, and there’s no way he’d sabotage the intel.”

“Sir, I realize that, but isn’t it possible his intel was wrong? I mean, he had to have a source of his own, and his source could have found out.” Larry wasn’t sure why the enigmatic Muffin Man was defending some random informant when bad information had just ruined the operation.

“No, the intel was solid. We screwed up the timing. The time that the tour group was supposed to arrive was in the time zone under the ship, not standard time. Their shuttle was supposed to be between the docks and the ship when the ship was attacked. We screwed up, L.T. Plain as that.”

“Wait, so you’re saying you knew about the civilians?” Larry was astonished. If he had known about the civilians from the beginning, he would have been watching for them, just in case. “Sir, if you had told me that in the first place–”

“It wasn’t a critical piece of information at the time, Lieutenant,” said Wilhelm. “If I had told you, some of the team members would have been overly hesitant. You may have had to call off the mission because someone got cold feet needlessly, and worse, you could have had someone freak out on the ship and get your fellows killed. Now, I’m not saying that what happened wasn’t a tragedy, and was sure as hell bad for our recruitment. Hell, we’ve even had three percent of our safe houses threaten to shut down. Luckily, we were able to talk them out of it, but to be honest, we’re even luckier no one threatened to turn anyone in. My point is, the operation itself was a success. The fact that we were able to take out five Dragon Riders in one fell swoop only adds to the fact that we’ve proven these ships can be taken out.”

“Sir, about that,” Larry inquired, “what makes these five Dragon Riders such a victory? I mean, sure, they’re elite pilots, and we just cut out over ten percent of their ranks, but they can’t be as powerful as the scuttlebutt suggests.”

“Let me stop you right there, Lieutenant,” Wilhelm interrupted. “I have witnessed first-hand the power of one of these Dragon Riders. They are the the Armada’s most elite warriors, and I have seen a single Dragon Rider take out an entire facility filled with hundreds of highly trained Secret Service agents and Navy SEALS. With two knives. So I want you to understand right now that the Dragon Riders are a great deal more powerful and dangerous than any rumors you may have heard floating around.”

At this, Larry took a loud gulp and sat back onto his seat beside the comm unit. “Well, sir, then I guess we’ll just have to roll with the punches the media throws at us and hope no one turns anyone else in while this is all boiling over. I guess it’ll have to settle down eventually.”

“Precisely,” Wilhelm’s voice sounded off slightly more enthusiastically. “Now, bring my people home. I want to brief you all in Drury Lane.”

“Drury Lane, sir? You want us to come to headquarters? I don’t think Mickey even knows where Drury Lane is right now.” Drury Lane was code for whichever safe house the Muffin Man himself was staying at. Only a select few resistance members had ever been trusted with Drury Lane’s location before, and it had been said that the Muffin Man had worn a mask the entire time to prevent giving away his identity. Now, he was asking Larry’s entire team to come and see him personally after such a disastrous mission. Whatever he was up to, Larry was sure he didn’t like it. The Muffin Man wasn’t the only one who had been hiding his identity all these years. Other than the Aylings, no one knew him as anything other than the Lieutenant. He couldn’t have few enough people know about his connection to Drigondii Sheii’Cronell’s past.

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant. I already sent Mr. Shore the necessary coordinates. An escort will be waiting for you when you land. I’ll be expecting you, Lieutenant.” With that, the wireless turned off, and Larry was left to his thoughts.

“Well,” Larry said to himself, “This ought to be interesting.”



‘Yes, it should,’ Grie thought to himself. He had woken up just in time to catch the conversation reverberating through the hull of the shuttle. His suit, having fully rebooted, had been so kind as to take the tiny vibrations it was catching through its sensors and allow Grie to listen in, though the conversation had admittedly been muddled up slightly. Still, he knew quite a bit right now that he was sure the resistance didn’t want him to know, and they already presumed him to be dead. ‘Not that that’s really a stretch in the least. I should be.’

Grie thought back to those moments falling through space, and as he recalled using lifeforce to make his way to the shuttle, he became a bit uneasy. What did this mean? How could he have done that? He couldn’t be a Sheii’Cronell or a Valkyrie, and they were the only people in his culture who were known to wield such power. He had quite a few questions, but they would have to wait. Right now, he had to focus on this unique opportunity. Still about ten miles out from the shuttle’s apparent landing zone, Grie released the locking mechanisms his suit had been using to let him sleep without letting go of the vents, and he slipped off the back of the shuttle. This far out, no one would notice, and his suit could protect him from serious injury falling from this altitude.

‘Now, then,’ Grie thought to himself as he landed, using one of his hands to balance himself and keep from falling to his knees. ‘I think I’ll go meet an old acquaintance about some muffins.’ With that, he stood in the slight crater he had formed and began to walk toward the shuttle’s landing zone.

The Fall

‘Well,’ Grie thought to himself as he fell through the silence of space away from the half-destroyed Fhit, ‘This is quite a predicament.’ He wasn’t sure if his armor would even handle re-entry on its own, but he was certain no matter what he hit when he finally reached the surface, he’d be pulverized. He wondered if any of his comrades had survived the initial blast of the explosion. Truth be told, he had only survived because he had gotten a bad feeling immediately beforehand and put his gloves and helmet back on before running into the main passageway to see if something was wrong. Had he not, exposure alone would have already killed him, even if the blast that ripped the galley to shreds hadn’t done so first.

‘At least I have a few minutes to sort out my last thoughts.’ Based on the distance at which the Fhit had been orbiting, it would be another ten minutes at least before he even hit atmo. Grie pulled himself into a ball, using changes in his center of gravity to turn himself back toward the ship to see how it was faring. He wished he hadn’t.

The section of the ship that contained the TMDS itself had been torn open in the blast. As a result, the system was now providing additional forces on the frame of the ship and was slowly tearing the ship apart. After the TMDS containment unit was compromised, the crew should have had two minutes to reach the nearest escape shuttle. Unfortunately, whatever had caused the blast had blown open the main steam lines, which meant there was only enough pressure to operate the underbridge launchers, which ran on an auxiliary system. With those limitations, only about four hundred could get off the ship, maximum, and a Qzeno-class Ultracarrier had a crew in the tens of thousands. Whoever had planned this had either gotten very lucky or knew far too much about Thorlinthian ship design.

Looking about, he saw a few other possible survivors, but before he could even try to reach them on the wireless, the Fhit’s TMDS finally collapsed, and the resulting forms of radiation, while not particularly harmful to organics, knocked out any chance of communication for the next five minutes while the suits’ electrical subsystems restarted. Luckily, when electrical current was cut to the helmet, the darkened visor cleared up, allowing the wearer to see even if the suit was shut down by these exact types of conditions. Resigning from his attempts to hail the survivors, Grie lay his head back.

He did so just in time to see a shuttle create a small shadow over a star. It had to be more than a mile away, but for some reason, it gave Grie hope. It had the Armada’s insignia on it, after all, and that’s exactly the type of sight he needed right now. Now thinking along lines more in favor of living, Grie thought back to a conversation he had had with Drigondii Sheii’Cronell several months ago.



“Sir, there’s something that’s been bothering me for a while now,” Grie said as he looked up from his plate to his leader. “The day you saved me, your eyes shone red, just like the Sheii’Cronell stories, and they do every time you perform one of your incredible feats. Does it have anything to do with how you achieve them?”

Drigondii looked up from his own plate, grinning ever so slightly. “You know, now that you mention it, it probably does. My eyes shine like that whenever I manipulate lifeforce.”

“Lifeforce, sir? Like in those movies you like much?” Grie began to think of laser swords, energy shields, and other such impossible or simply impractical things that were also featured in those films. “Seems a bit fictitious to me, if you don’t mind my saying so, sir.”

“Well, that’s just what it’s called. Apparently, it’s derived from a very ancient word used to describe the powerful nature of the universe. I think it was even a religious term at one point. The word itself apparently has a strange interaction with some people’s brains, allowing them to access these types of powers. It’s really got more to do with quantum interdimensional connections between matter and energy than an actual life force, but I have to admit, I’m not exactly well enough educated in those matters to explain it to you, and I don’t know a better word for quantum interdimensional connections. Plus, whenever you use it, it’s like a million voices are speaking to you from inside and outside yourself at the same time. Lifeforce doesn’t seem unfitting.” At this Drigondii chuckled and took another bite of his steak.

“What’s the word, sir?” Grie asked. Drigondii looked up again, giving Grie a look that expressed both pride and amusement.

“The word, Grie? Are you asking because you don’t know or because you do?” Drigondii didn’t speak again until the end of the dinner.



Reaching out with every fiber of his being to the ship, Grie spoke into the nothingness the word that he could never have known and yet which now seemed so obvious. It was a word so ancient, it could not be expressed with sound or symbol. It could only be spoken with thought, feeling, and understanding. Grie thought of his child’s birth, his own growth to a man, his best friend’s death, the tree that stood in his yard. He thought of the cycle of a star, a cloud of gas, a bu
rning inferno, and a massive explosion leading to more clouds of gas which would do the same.


And as he thought these things, as he began to make all the connections between himself and every particle and thing and person around him, the word came, like a thundering voice in and out of himself. And it spoke power into him, and he spoke it out to the shuttle. For the shuttle was as much a part of that word as he was, as was the space between them. And for those few moments, as Grie found himself coming closer to the shuttle, he felt as though he could see all the expanse of the worlds. Was this how the Great One saw, he wondered, as if nothing were separate and all of space and time were the same?

But just as he had begun to form these thoughts, he found his hand grasping the cold metal of the shuttle, and the word was gone and took with it all of its profound thoughts. ‘Just in time, too,’ Grie thought, as the flames of re-entry began to wrap around the shuttle, barely missing him as he lay as flat against the top of the shuttle as he could while holding onto its piping hot throughput vents as hard as he could. And with that, he passed into an exhausted slumber.



Inside the shuttle, Angus Ayling looked up toward the thunking sound which had occured just before the deafening roar of re-entry. “What was that?” He looked to his wife, Summer, who shrugged.

“Probably just an insulator plate popping. I’ve heard they have a tendency to do that sometimes.” She placed her hand on Angus’s shoulder. He’d been thoroughly shaken since he had seen the face of one of the Tees back on the ship. It had been a young man, no older than seventeen, and he had looked more normal than any of the Tees Angus had seen thus far. No unusual or foreign trait was to be spotted on the boy. Angus had realized just as the shuttle’s door was closing that it was because the boy was from Earth, visiting the ship with a group of high schoolers who were being recruited for the Armada.

“Well, we can check it out when we land,” Lieutenant Denton said. He looked even paler than Angus. The Dragon Riders had been there as part of a recruitment ploy, and he had realized it far too late to abort or even alter the mission. “For now, let’s just get some rest.” The team retired to their rooms for a few hours’ rest as the shuttle moved across the Pacific toward their awaiting landing zone.

Dragon Slayers

Summer was sweating as she shakingly manipulated the final mechanisms of the device she had been assigned to build. If she did something wrong to one of these pieces, the entire timing assembly could fail, and the device would go off before the team delivering had time to get off the target ship. Just one… more… solder. Done. Leaning back, Summer let out a sigh and slumped her hands away just in time not to destroy all her work when a loud banging was heard through her door, and she jumped.

“Hey, Summer, is it done yet?” A man looking to be in his early thirties stepped into the room as he opened the door. He looked uneasy, as was everyone aboard the shuttle. The final stage of assembly had to be completed on the way to the target due to an emergency change in schedule, so the entire team was nervous.

Summer glowered at the man and reached out to her desk, grabbing the last bit of outer plating and placing it over the recently soldered area. “Yes,” she snapped. “And if it hadn’t been, you could have killed us all just now with that banging.” The man grimaced at the thought, then raised his eyebrows to hers in an apologetic manner. “Oh, it’s fine, Angus. No harm done, right?” She smiled crookedly at him, still a bit shaken by the timing of it all.

“Thanks, Summer. Listen, we really appreciate you filling in for Clayton’s part on this assignment. He just got moved to a top secret assignment by the Muffin Man himself. Apparently, it was a now or never type of deal. So, thanks.” He smiled back at Summer and extended his hand in gratitude. She took it, and they spent a few moments recalling easier times in each other’s eyes.

“Hey, Angus!” A booming voice called out, quite in contrast to Angus’s own light tenor. “Did you find out? Is it done yet?”

Summer let go of Angus’s hand, instead placing hers on his shoulder and yelling past him, “Yes, it’s done, you silly goat! Is the rest of the team ready?” She couldn’t help but shake her head at the Lieutenant. He’d done a fine enough job in the Navy, but all his protocol and properness flew out the window as soon as he got out on the eve of Phoenix Day. If this mission hadn’t been entirely his plan, she’d have thought the man had lost all military sense whatsoever.

“Good!” the Lieutenant shouted. “But do we really need to shout if the door’s open?” He turned his head toward her as she peeked out into the main cabin, in which he was leaning against the far bulkhead and grinning mischievously at her.

Summer’s smooth face formed a few creases as she glowered playfully at him, scrunching her face as tightly as she could and saying quietly, “No. We don’t. Are we almost there? I’m starting to lose my stomach to the simgrav. The Tees could have come up with something a little closer to normal levels. It’s weird being this light.” She exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm her stomach, which was not taking well to space travel.

“Aye, we’ll be there soon enough.” He bashed his hand against the door to his right twice. “Oi, how much longer d’you think, Mickey? Five, maybe ten minutes?” He pressed his ear to the door, just barely moving from his previous leaning position. After a few moments, he stood upright and said, “Yeah, he’s figuring about five minutes. Everybody’s suited up, Angus?”

“We’re all good to go, L.T.” Angus reported in a manner becoming of a military man, which was ironic because he was the only one on the shuttle with no military experience.

“Weapons are all good? No fingerprints?” The Lieutenants concern in this regard was shared by most of the crew. Even though they were willing to die if the need came about, they’d rather not be found out should they actually survive, and it was even more important that no one find out who had smuggled the weapons from the peacekeepers to the resistance. If the smugglers were found out, the Tees could easily crush the resistance’s supply lines.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, L.T. I checked ‘em all myself.” A bulking man with a thick Texas accent walked into the cabin. “If there’s anything I learned dusting for prints, it’s how ta’ get ‘em off.” The man grinned at the Lieutenant proudly and lifted the chin of his helmet The neck guard became tight, preventing him from leaning his head further back. “Cain’t say I’m too fond of these suits, though. Tees could’a given a bit more thought to comfort…”

“I don’t think the Tees give a rat’s–” Angus started before being abruptly interrupted by Summer.

“My studies have shown that the utmost care has been given to ensure the safety of the wearer in case of accidental venting due to hull breaches and the like. You may not want to wear these for pyjamas, but they’ll keep you alive in vacuum, under fire, and with a tank sitting on your chest.” Summer’s matter-of-fact tone made it clear that any further complaints would be pointless. The mission depended on the suits, so they were staying on. Besides, it would be critical in adding to the element of surprise when the Tees started to see their fellows firing on them.

The dark, mirrored visors that would conceal their identities were also designed to protect the crew’s eyes from radiant blasts caused by many battlefield weaponry and had the added benefit of a HUD wirelessly connected to the weapons in the suit’s immediate vicinity, removing any guesswork from ammunition count and aim. There were no sights on the Tees’ weapons, only small cameras used by the HUD to produce a reticle where each weapon was aimed over the wearer’s view of the battlefield, which was extended to 360 degrees by the cameras around the helmet. It took some getting used to, but it made suprise attacks from behind a thing of the past. Angus thought it was a lot like a video game, but when he mentioned this, the rest of the team scolded him for not taking the mission seriously.

Only a few minutes later, the shuttle was secured inside the target ship’s receiving bay, where Mickey would wait exactly twenty-eight minutes for the team to return. The rest of the team moved into the airlock, securing their visors and ensuring their weapons were loaded.

“Right, everyone,” Lieutenant Larry Denton said over the secure comm line for the team. “Let’s go Dragon slaying!”

The team nodded, taking a few possibly last glances at one another, and took off into the TAS Fhit’s receiving bay, making their way to the main hangar where five Dragon 52-Fs were waiting to be refueled. An explosion of the right variety there would take out not only the Dragons, but the entire aft quarter of the ship, including the aft galley, where five Dragon Riders were eating with other Tee pilots and flight officers.

Grie Khuda’Cronell was among them.

Family Dinner

“Daddy!” A now ten cycle-old Gildr Khuda’Mundi ran into his father’s arms for the first time in his life only minutes after finally landing on Earth. The man catching him, Grie Khuda’Mundi, was quickly reduced to tears, a highly uncommon sight on a Dragon Rider, particularly when still wearing his Drigarmr. Still, Grie hadn’t seen his son since shortly after the boy’s first cycle-mark over nine cycles ago. His violet eyes filled with tears quickly, and he gripped his son more tightly as his cheeks began to cool from the tears evaporating in the wind.

“Oh, my boy! You’re so big.” Grie held his son out at arm’s length as he said this, then picked him up, making a small seat for him in the crook of his arm, a feat that most would no longer be able to manage at the boy’s current age; but Grie was a Dragon Rider, and his strength was second to very few, so it was to him as effortless as an atmo-hype. With the boy secured and tightly embracing his father around the shoulders, Grie pulled his wife closer for a kiss.

“We took the first passenger ship out of Osgord as soon as we could. Oh, Grie, I’ve missed you.” Priha’Di broke into tears of her own as she spoke. “I’m so sorry about Veriar, Grie.”

At this, Grie’s face took a more somber look upon itself for a few moments. “Accidents happened our first few cycles here. The people weren’t quite as receptive to the idea of the Monarchy as we’d hoped at first. It wasn’t even an attack. We had the English Prime Minister in custody at the time, and a protester jumped onto the shuttle to make it land and got sucked into the turbines. The whole thing was just an accident. So many people…” His voice trailed off into the same wind that was tousling his green hair. Priha’Di nodded.

“Now! Where’s that sister of yours?” Priha’Di smiled sharply at this, wanting to move the conversation to a lighter venue. Little Gildr even looked up from the hand that had been playing with his father’s short red cape to search for his aunt and playmate.

“Auntie Kehrann! Auntie Kehrann, where’d you go?” His boyish voice, loud as it was, carried across the entire room, and a short, green-haired teenager quickly scampered her way to the group with her backbag bouncing to and fro as she went.

“Hi there, Grie-ellr!” Kehrann worked her way into a one armed hug from Grie and then reached up and disheveled her nephew’s hair. “Thanks for calling me, Gildr. I thought I’d lost you guys!”

“Ungr-bug, what are you doing here? I’d have thought you’d go back to our parents’ home when these two shipped over here. I’m so happy to see you! Oh, hey, is this everyone? We have to go register with the umbodsmother before the housing office closes.” Grie looked about, half-expecting to see another of his sisters or his brother.

“Nope!” Kehrann beamed. “We’ve got one more family member to grab before we leave,” she said before scampering off in a slightly more intentional direction than that she had used when finding them.

“Who else is here, dear?” Grie looked to his wife, who bit away the smile creeping onto her face. Grie may not have seen that expression in a long time, but he still knew it meant he’d like whatever the surprise was. He grinned and looked back to his son. “So have you been learning a lot from your mommy?” The boy shook his head fervently, making his mother scoff and pinch his leg playfully.

“Yes, he has. We just finished hyping physics last week. Sorry, I meant to get to it a lot sooner, but there were some timing issues when we were getting ready to leave, so he got off to a late start.” At this, Grie laughed loudly. “What? What’s so funny?” Priha’Di looked totally bewildered.

“Oh, Pri, you would know if you’d been with me to the American school their last winter. You know, they don’t follow a standard cycle here. The planet revolves almost thirty-five days fast. Oh, but the local day is exactly one standard day. They split it up weird, though. You’ll get used to it.. Anyway, by little Gildr’s age, the locals haven’t even learned differential mathematics. He’s the best-educated child his age on the whole planet. There aren’t any other kids here with former Valkyries for mommies, after all. Well, except the Sheii’Cronell’s daughter, that is.”

“The Sheii’Cronell’s married?” Priha’Di was even more astounded at this fact than Grie had been when he found out. It was another exceptional trait of the man he had come to see as something of a friend and mentor. Sheii’Cronells didn’t marry. They were supposedly infertile. “Who’s his wife? Do I know her?”

“That’s the best part, Pri. It’s Terira.” Grie beamed at this particular statement. Priha’Di hadn’t heard anything from her sister since she had left for the Deep Space Navigation Program over her (the same mission, in fact, during which Terira found Earth), in main due to the fact that she hadn’t stayed on Thor when she married Grie, who had been a low-ranking enlisted Armadian at the time. By the time Terira got back, Priha’Di had already moved to Osgord.

“You’re joking!” Priha’Di exclaim
ed. “Daddy’s joking, huh, little Gildr?” She tickled the boy, who started wiggling and laughing, which made it considerably harder for Grie to hold onto him. Grie just kept smiling and looking at his wife. “Wait,” she said, her tickling slowing to a crawl as she looked back at her husband. “You’re not joking?” He shook his head. “Terira’s here?” He nodded. “And she’s married to the Sheii’Cronell?” Again, he nodded. “The same Sheii’Cronell who saved your life and got you into the Dragon Riders is actually our brother-in-law?”


“Now you’re getting it…” Grie smiled even wider. “She’s invited us to dinner, too, which is another reason we have to hurry up to register. That’s why I told you to dress nicely today in my last correspondence.”

At this, Priha’Di looked positively mortified. She had dressed with a slightly different type of appeal in mind when planning to see her husband for the first time in nine cycles. She hardly considered her present outfit, a sweater suit with leggings and a ladies’ kilt, appropriate for dinner with a Sheii’Cronell and a sister she hadn’t seen in about fifteen cycles. Grie must have sensed this, though, since his next words were, “You look great, Pri. I think Terira’s wearing something casual, though the men are obviously wearing our Drigarmr formals. Oh, speaking of which!” Grie reached into the Armadian pattern satchel he was carrying and pulled out a small set of Dragon Rider’s Drigarmr, though with the armor itself made of local leather instead of actual Drigarmr. “This is for you to wear, little guy.” Gildr grabbed excitedly at the armor and instantly did his best to wrinkle the material with his arms as children do when they hold clothes they love.

“Still making trouble, I see,” a familiar voice said from behind Grie, the speaker placing his wrinkled hand on Grie’s shoulder. Grie turned to look at the little, graying man.

“Hello, grandfather.” It was a phrase of caring practice, holding in it an old formality a little boy had once learned to make his grandfather proud.

“This is everyone,” Kehrann said from beside her grandfather. “Now we can go, Grie-ellr.”

“Sounds great,” Grie said enthusiastically. This was the third best day of his life, the second being his wedding, and the first being Gildr’s birth. He was looking forward to it. “Well, the Umbodsmother’s office closes soon, so we should get going. I’ve got a pulse car waiting for us. The office will send someone to get all your belongings.

Agreeing, they all headed off to the outer shell of the docks. “So, grandfather, what are you doing here,” Grie asked as the boy in his arm excitedly tried to work his way into the Drigarmor without taking off any of the clothes he was already wearing, which included a rather thick coat and made his task practically impossible.

“Well, you know your grandmother was my second wife. After she died a few months before Priha’Di here ended up leaving, I was offered to come live with these two young ladies and my favorite little man here.” At this, he pinched one Gildr’s cheeks gently. Gildr made a halfhearted effort to stop the man, but he obviously didn’t really mind. “When we got word that families were allowed to head out to Earth, Priha’Di asked me to come with. Said it’d be a good surprise for you and that I’d be good fun for Gildr during the trip.”

“It’s the beard, grandfather. Kids can’t help but fall in love with you when you’ve got that silver beard. You remind them too much of the Saint of Winter.” That was probably true. All children loved that old story and the presents they got every year ‘from the Saint of Winter’ on Drigan’di’s Day.

“Well, in any case, I’m glad I offered. Your parents were going to send him to an Ellrhome. That would have been a tragedy,” Priha’Di added into the conversation. Kehrann and Grie nodded.

“Still, I can’t believe my little Grie grew up to be a Drig Reidr. I remember when they first started up over a hundred cycles ago on Thorlinthia’s side of the Bifrost, you know. Who knows how long it’s been on this side. How that new Sheii’Cronell managed to synchronize the two sides still leaves me totally stumped, and I’ve been trying to figure it out for the past seven cycles.”

“It’s Dragon Riders now, grandfather, and it’s not as bad as it used to be. We aren’t all bloodthirsty Oa’din, you know. And the Sheii’Cronell isn’t a bad man, either. Something’s different about him. You’ll see what I mean. You’re joining us for dinner, I assume?” Grie hoped he could show his grandfather that Drigondii Sheii’Cronell wasn’t like Fargerre Sheii’Cronell at all.

“Of course I’m coming. Not even an old man’s prejudice could keep old Gril’Die from having dinner with family, and there’s no questioning that this is a family dinner. I still have my old uniform in good condition. I’ll change at the same time Gildr does. And trust me, I’d love nothing more than to meet a good Sheii’Cronell.”

A few hours later, according to Grie, the family was on the shuttle to America for the family dinner. Apparently, Drigondii had made his home in a small base in an area called Texas for reasons undisclosed. He seemed fond of the area.

In the shuttle, Gril’Die Khuda’Mundi stood out a bit with the standard Armadian uniform, admittedly much more highly decorated than most. The other two males were wearing the Dragon Rider uniform (which still seemed to fascinate Gildr), and the females were wearing the same semi-formal attire in which they had arrived. Every time Grie looked over to see if his grandfather was paying attention, he’d find the old man’s eyes gently fixed on the speaker even as his hands continued to fiddle with his uniform, trying to further perfect it.

A few minutes before they landed, Grie clapped his hands together loudly, and everyone jumped. “I just remembered to warn you that our hosts have another guest we’ll be meeting today.” When everyone gave him a look that said they clearly didn’t understand why this mandated a warning, he added, “She’s an alien. Just don’t freak out. She’s very kind, and she’s been very helpful with relations with the locals. Go figure, right? But she was held in custody by the Earthers for quite some time, so she’s become a bit shy around new people. I called ahead to let them know I was bringing more than just Pri and Gildr, but I just thought I’d let you all know not to act too surprised at her appearance. Just don’t give her any weird looks, please.”

Once everyone had agreed to this, Grie nodded, smiled, patted his boy’s head, and walked into the cockpit to oversee the landing procedures, since they’d need his authorization number to get through to the Sheii’Cronell’s residence. The shuttle touched down without incident, and the Khuda’Mundi family stepped out together to see a surprisingly small and plain house before them. It was quite unlike what they would have expected from a Sheii’Cronell, but nothing about this Sheii’Cronell was to be as expected, apparently.

Grie took Priha’Di and Gildr by the hand and walked to the front door with Gril’Die and Kehrann in tow behind them. He lifted Gildr again when they reached the door and had him knock. From inside, the scraping of wooden chairs against ceramic flooring heralded the fact that someone was coming to the door, which opened shortly thereafter.

A kind looking young woman with blue hair and green eyes who held a remarkable resemblance to her sister stood at the door in a sweater and ladies’ kilt. Smiling, she said, “Hello, Pri. I’ve missed you. Won’t you and your family come in. Hello again, Grie.”

“Hello, Terira. This is my son, Gildr; my sister, Kehrann; and my grandfather, Gril’Die.” Grie introduced everyone one at a time, gesturing to each of them.

Terira beamed, escorting them to the house’s dining room, in which waited Drigondii Sheii’Cronell and their alien guest. “Dear, this is Grie’s family, and this also happens to be my sister, Priha’Di. Pri, you’re very well known in this house. Umm, sweetheart, where did Lihandii go?” While shaking everyone’s hands, Drigondii pointed into the kitchen, where a young girl with blue hair no older than Gildr was grabbing a bowl to bring to the table. “Right, everyone, this is my daughter, Lihandii. Say hello, dear.” The girl managed out what was apparently a hello and set the bowl upon the table, finishing the final preparations for their dinner.

“Forgive me,” Gril’Die said. Everyone looked to the old man, who was looking to the alien with tears streaming down his face. “Forgive me, but I must ask you. What is your name?” The alien looked to the man, and its expression changed from one of curiosity to one of concern.

“Her name is–” Terira began but was interrupted when the alien began to speak, which was obviously something that did not happen often around strangers.

“This one’s name is Kahlisa. It is very good to meet you.” Kahlisa set one of her six hands on Gril’Die’s shoulder and whispered something into his ear. The man immediately embraced Kahlisa, a strange sight for everyone in the room but a calming and welcome one at that.

“I am honored to meet you, Kahlisa. And I am so glad that I have lived to this day. Thank you for your words. They mean a great deal.” Gril’Die wiped his tears and looked to Drigondii. Everyone finished introducing one another, and the family sat to the table. Kahlisa merely lowered herself onto her lowest set of hands to bring herself to the level of the table, where she had a quite different meal from everyone else.

Before the prayer, Grie noticed, Drigondii and his daughter made the same two sweeping motions with their fingers over their bodies and did so again at the end of the prayer. This was never pointed out or explained, but Grie did find it odd. “Now then,” Drigondii said to his extended family, which had become much larger this day, “I understand you’ve all been waiting quite some time to try Earther food, and I won’t make you wait any longer. I will say that this meal was made as a joint effort between myself, Terira, and Lihandii, so we all hope you enjoy it. I am very pleased to have such a large and wonderful family.” Drigondii smiled, and the family ate.