Silver, Prologue and Part of Chapter One:

Prologue:

Jin’s cart pulled to a stop and his weary companion dismounted from the seat beside him and landed boots-first into a puddle. Muddy water splashed up and drenched the hem of his already wet trousers, which he observed without amusement before bringing out his flask and taking a quick sip to console himself. The rain which began as they left on their journey had continued for the entire four hours and the wheels of the cart were beginning to sink into the mud. Luckily, there was habitation nearby in Karnassass where they could hope to wait out the rest of storm, if their cart could make it that far before getting stuck.
“Hey!” Jin’s companion, Taro shouted from beside the cart. The oxs whinnied their displeasure at being worked for so long and in the wet. It had been Jin’s insistence that they carried on for the entire trip without seeking shelter, claiming the rain would let up soon enough. It had only gotten worse as the hours went by, and Taro was ready to knock him off the cart. “Hey!” Taro shouted louder. He was a big man and his voice carried over the fall of raindrop. He strained his throat a little too much and convulsed in a coughing fit. Eventually, the door of the shack opened up and a bald man peered out, first looking at the sky, then down at them. He made no move to leave the confines of the shack itself.
“What do you want?” the man grumbled. Jin had the impression that he’d been asleep, or practically near it, although sunset was still a ways off.
Taro gave him a look as if he were the stupidest man alive. “What does it look like we want? We’ve got the shipment,” Taro pointed back to the cart with the load from the Biggle Quarry.
“Do you want a reward?” the bald man, Semson, sneered. “Go drop it off and then head back for the next. Boss wants in by tomorrow.” He turned to go back inside.
“Wait! Taro stopped him. “Another shipment? That’s not even possible now! It’ll have to wait.” They could usually do two shipments a day if they were lucky, but the rains had slowed them down too much.
“Do you think I care? Get it done, or find another job,” Semson looked down at the water pooling around his shack and then slammed the door shut behind him.
“Damn him!” Taro screamed. “There’s no way we’re doing two shipments today. We shouldn’t have even done the one.” He climbed back on the cart, seeing as there was no one else around to help. Usually there was a small crew on hand to help them unload the stones into the ever-increasing pile by the road, but work had shut down early, it would seem. Jin flicked the reins and the oxs slowly trotted over to the side where they could tip the back of the cart over. Stones clattered onto the ground in a disorganized pile. Usually, a great dusty cloud would spread through the air, but everything was damp. “They can stack it themselves.” With their work done, Taro irritably waved Jin onward.
“The oxs are getting tired,” Jin said from under his big, shapeless hat.
“It’s miles to Karnassass still,” Taro told him. “They can rest when we get there.” It wasn’t simply that he had no desire to stay out in the rain in the open cart, it was that there simply wasn’t anywhere else to stay. It was a flat, barren wasteland, with barely a bush to dot the landscape on the one side until the hills where Karnassass lay over. Behind them, was the looming mountain shrouded in mist. No one went there unless they had to.
“We should at least give them some of their oats,” Jin said.
“They’ll live,” Taro said. He hadn’t eaten, either. “Anyway, we’ll spend the night in Karnassass, and head out fresh again in the morning if it stops raining tonight. If not, then we’ll wait until midday.”
“But Semson said…”
“Semson is an idiot, Jin. You know that. Why do you think they keep him cooped up in that little shack counting rocks? The boss knows what the weather can do to the roads. I won’t even have to explain things to him. If things get better, we’ll do two loads tomorrow.”
They rode in silence for a while along the desolate road, until Jin thought to ask, “Taro, do you think the mist is spreading?”
“What?” Taro, who’d been lost in his own thoughts about the tavern in Karnassass and a certain barmaid.
“The mist,” Jin pointed towards the mountain. “Doesn’t it seem like its further down the hills?”
Taro looked closely, and he couldn’t deny that it looked as if it had spread. “Yes,” he said a little uneasily. “Maybe its just the rain doing it.”
That answer seemed to please Jin somewhat, but Taro was still worried. Nothing scared him more than the shimmering mist. Anything that got too close to it simply vanished, including most of the trees, water and vegetation of the swamplands North of Karnassass. Now it was little more than a  desert, and that was nothing compared to what lay on the other side of the mountain.
Coming this far North made him apprehensive, but it was his work. People in the Southlands near the capital had never even seen the mists, but they still whispered stories about them over their mugs. The stories still never came close to reality. They didn’t know you could feel the mists pulling at you, even from miles away. It was as if a wind was blowing you in that direction. Sometimes he dreamt it was pulling at him in his sleep, even when he was far back home. It poured down the mountains like a waterfall of smoke, but always seemed to stop short near the foothills now that it had been driven back. The Geomancers had erected the mountain stone by stone to keep it all at bay. The mists were hinged somewhere in the Lost Valley beyond and could go no further than its arms could reach it. No one rightfully knew what kept it in place, but they knew it had been working
It’d been twenty-six years since the war in which the lands North of Karnassass had been lost. Four cities and half of a province had been swallowed up by the cataclysm that claimed the lives of two armies and all else who resided within those lands. The resulting explosion had left a crater in the earth wide as a sea. The mountains had first been formed by the resulting earthquake and the mists soon followed. Some said it was made of the ghosts of those who’d been lost, but Taro knew better.
“Maybe we should tell someone,” Jin suggested. “I mean the Geomancers might like to know. Maybe it’d be foolish, but it’s our duty, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Taro readily agreed. The mists were receding behind them slowly as the road turned South, but her could still feel it.
The oxs slowed and the cart gave a jolt. Taro didn’t have to ask what that meant. “Damn it,” he looked behind the cart to see the one wheel stuck in the mud. “Give them a whip and see if they can pull us out.”
Jin did as he asked, but the oxs stubbornly refused after a few attempts. “They’re too tired and wet,” Jin said.
“I’m too tired and wet,” Taro told him. It was getting closer to dark and the rain wasn’t letting up. There was no place to set camp if they ended up getting stuck. “Let me try and give it a push.” He was a big enough man that he could usually get the cart unstuck on his own and the wheel didn’t look as if it was sunk too deep. He went behind the cart and leaned back against it with all his might. It rocked forward slightly, but then his boots slipped in the much and he fell.
Jin was a good enough friend that he didn’t laugh; not even a smirk. Instead, he craned his neck back to see if he was okay. That’s what Taro liked about Jin the most. He was never cruel, or mocking. He was also one of the few people who could stand Taro’s company for extended trips like this. Taro got up on his own and reached into his muddy shirt to pull out his flask. Opening it, he drained his last swig.
“Do you need help?” a woman asked.
Taro, despite himself, screamed and dropped his flask in the mud. He wheeled around to face the woman. There had been no one behind him a second ago, not for miles. Now he was faced with two figures on horseback. One horse was white, and the other black, as were the cloaks of figures riding them. The woman was the one dressed in white, with her hood pulled low over her head to keep out the rain. Underneath, the face was far fairer than any he’d ever seen before, with white locks spilling out of her hood, despite being youthful. Everything else beyond that was obscured by her billowing white cloak and gloves, which were both made out of tanned hide, but not of a beast Taro could name. Beside her was a man with an almost identical visage, but a sour look to him. Taro had a the peculiar sense he’d seen him before, but could not place his name. They wore no weapons upon their person that Taro could see, but their stout horses were laden with packs as if set for a long journey. He could see their hoofprints trailing behind them, assuring him that they had not just materialized out of the air. He told himself that he’d simply hadn’t noticed them before in the poor weather, nor heard them over the monotonous roll of the wheels.
The woman tittered a laugh at him, then leaned forward and repeated slowly, “I asked if you needed help?”
“Ah, yes,” Taro was very distracted by her face. He hadn’t ever really seen a woman like her before with such exotic features. Her eyes seemed rather large, however, and her nose perhaps too long. Beyond that, she was perfection. He looked from her to her companion, who looked very much like herself, and very much like someone he’d seen before. He didn’t seem altogether large or capable, however. He was perhaps tall, but very lanky, It was obvious even with his matching cloak with it’s silver stitching. “That is to say I can probably manage. Just needs a few more heaves, is all.” Wanting to impress the woman as much as he wanted to be out of the rain, he pressed his shoulder against the back of the cart, but still to no avail.
“Brother, if you’d please help the gentleman? He’s too polite to ask for help,” the woman said.
Her brother looked over at her disdainfully. “Manual labour? You can’t be serious, woman.” The look she gave him made it entirely obvious that she was serious. There was also a veiled  threat behind those large, owlish eyes. He fumed and threw back his cloak. “Do you see these boots? I had them specially made.” They were a rather fine pair of high-top leather boots as such a noble might wear, with barely a spec on them. Perhaps that’s where Taro had seen him before. “You want me to get in the mud and push like I’m a plough horse? Go do it yourself, if you’re so keen.”
The woman looked as if she was going to murder the man, then slid off her saddle. The man laughed. “You’re actually going to do it?” On foot, she was as tall as Taro himself, which was surprising as he towered over most men. The cloak split open to reveal a pale blue tunic over white trousers. Her brown boots went up past her knees and barely stopped below her wide belt dangling with silver coins for ornament. As the man on horse laughed uproariously she brushed past Taro while ignoring them both. Placing one hand on the cart, she pushed. It easily slid out of the rut and several feet more. Jin was jostled in his seat and nearly fell out head first. He had to cling on desperately to the cart to keep from flying. The man laughed even louder, although both Taro and Jin were astonished by the feat of strength. Taro couldn’t rightfully credit it to his earlier efforts, or the oxen helping. He honestly had no idea what to think.
“Next time, ask for help,” the woman told Taro curtly. He couldn’t help but noticed she smelled like flowers he’d never seen before. Walking back to her horse with her cloak barely not touching the ground, she waited. After a moment or two, she snapped back at him. “Well?”
“Excuse me?” Taro didn’t know what she wanted.
“Help me up,” she said to him with exasperation.
Desperate to do anything for this woman, Taro bounded forward. He cupped his hands together and she used it as a step up into her saddle. Taro had the impression that she could have easily mounted the horse by herself, but he was happy to help. Once she took up her reins, she looked down at him. “Well?”
“I…” Taro didn’t know what he was supposed to do now.
“Thank me,” her irritation was growing.
“Thank you, my lady,” Taro said gratefully.
“Manners!” the woman said as if she had just opened a present. “How I’ve missed them. Now tell me, good sir, where might we find… whatever it is you people have?”
“I’m sorry, my lady?” Taro was growing more confused and awkward by the moment.
“What she means to say is where is the closest town? Not that we need to ask. There’s one road, Silva,” he shook his head at her.
“Are you two lost?” Taro asked them both. “Karnassass is just ahead over these hills. There’s an inn there. We’re heading there if you’d like to follow, but as you said there’s just one road. Hard to miss anything.”
“Why would I want an inn?” the woman named Silva asked him curiously.
The man hung his head and shook it sadly. “Silva, please. Don’t try to talk to people. It’s just embarrassing.”
“The only embarrassment around here is my brother,” Silva snapped back.
“Why? Is Arkon here?” her brother looked around playfully.
She raised her hand as if to strike him, but he was too far away. She let it drop instead, and in a much more civilized tone, spoke to Taro directly. “Who should we want to speak to in this Karnassass of yours?”
“Well like I said, there’s the inn there. There’s not much else unless you want to speak with the Guild or his Lordship.” Suddenly the pair didn’t seem so strange as he remembered the Guild. The two were likely travellers on their way to speak with the representatives of the Guild there. With the Geomancers residing in the town, there were always strange travellers coming and going on official business.
“Lordship,” Silva brightened up. “That’s who we want. We want to speak with his Lordship.” It wasn’t that she remembered, ir was more as if the idea occurred to her. “Is he difficult to find?”
“Not at all. His manor is finest looking house at the Eastern end of the town, next to the orchards. It’s a left at the next fork in the road.”
“Thank you. And what is an, ‘inn?’” she asked, and her brother moaned.
Taro looked at her for a long moment before answering. She definitely had an accent, but it was more like the Northernmen than anything else, and she spoke fluently. “It’s a place where you can stay,” he said in way of an answer.
“I have to apologize for her,” her brother said. “She’s a bit… I don’t even want to get into it,” he decided. “Come along. You’ll have plenty of time to talk to the peasant folk later,” he said as he cantered off. Silva watched him go, then decided to follow. She nodded simply to Taro, then left with her brother.
Taro stood in the mud and watched her go, wondering if he’d get to see her in town. Jin, next to him, was a bit shaken. “They came out of the mist,” Jin whispered to him.
“Don’t be silly,” Taro snorted. “Nothing comes out of the mist. Especially not pretty girls.”


Chapter One:

Grey looked lislessly out the window at the rain falling as he tapped the table with his knife. He knew the rains would last for three days, but this was his own private knowledge and he did not wish to divulge it to anyone unless asked directly. He thought conversations on the weather were tedious at best, although his current studies centred on such matters. It was an unenviable situation.
Elith’s hand closed over his own to stop his incessant tapping, although it hadn’t been particularly loud. She was highly irritable of late and he almost wished he hadn’t sat beside her at the table, but she was one of his few remaining friends outside of his own family members and his mentor, Console. Grey took it as his cue to resume his attention of the meeting in progress, but he spared his friend a look. By looking at her, you couldn’t tell that she was well over twice his age. She appeared younger than himself at age twenty, and by her elven standards, she was. Her peculiar, single-pointed ears were concealed by her dark hair. She tried to hide her heritage while in Karnassass, as she was something of an oddity outside of the cities. Their present company were no strangers to her kind or to herself, but she kept up the custom nevertheless. She appeared small and frail, as all elves did, but she was neither of those things. She wore her simple, scholarly robes of red linen with few adornments save for some ribbon and her mother’s black opal ring on the hand that lingered over his own. She frowned at him, but eventually broke into a smile as if at a private joke. It must had been the expression on his face, or the fact he was staring at her for an uncomfortable period of time. She hid her smile behind her napkin, which she dabbed at her face, and when she put it down again, her thin, small lips were set in a straight line.
Near the head of the table, Markay of the Geomancer Guild was standing with his one hand on top his winecup on the table, addressing those gathered. He wore a frilled collar that made his curly beard seem even larger and more ridiculous, but his demeanour was quite serious. “We’ve had numerous reports as of late that the mist is spreading further down the mountainside and onto the plains,” he confirmed.
“Impossible,” Yagan countered. He was a withered old man from the Guild with a bald head with a flat, black cap upon it. He waved the hand with his Guild ring on it dismissively. “We know well that such a thing can never happen. The mist has been in recession for years. Our efforts towards protecting this land with the very land itself has proven itself as the only sustainable defense against the darkness beyond, and I grow weary of any claim to the contrary. These sighting are the imaginations of simple peasant folk scared by their own shadows. We’ve been over every inch of the mountainside, and we’ve never been able to collaborate any of these stories that crop up every few months or so.”
“This time we have confirmation from our Mountainmen,” Markay gave the nickname of the Rangers who patrolled along the mountainside. “The report a consistent pattern of the mist flowing ever farther into our realms, as well as that of the Northmen.”
“The Mounainmen are no strangers to idle fancy,” Yagan protested.
“Please take these claims seriously,” Markay practically groaned. “It’s our livelihood at stake, if not our lives.”
“Gentlemen,” Warchess cleared his throat as he rose. Warchess was a minor noble, if the Northmen could be said to have nobility. In every sense of his aspect, he seemed the part. He was imposing with a sturdy stature, piercing eyes, and most notably long, braided blonde hair, much in the Northern style. It was the envy and object of lust amongst many of the women around Karnassass, where he had built a small homestead, and beyond. He wore a short white robe with dark violet and blue embroidery, with a tunic and trousers. Every finger had a ring on it, and every ring a different metal. On the left hand, on the middle finger, he wore his Guild ring. He had his ring for many years, despite being only slightly older than Grey himself. It was a credit to his abilities, as well as his connections. “We shall set upon an expedition at once to verify these claims,” he commanded, although it was not in his authority to do so. The Guild council was democratic and largely autonomous, with the highest ranking member, Console deciding matters in the event a of a split decision. Still, most differed to Warchess, as he was commonly not unreasonable or unwarranted in his requests. Only a few like Yagan voted against him, and it was typically out of spite or foolishness. Grey, himself, admired the man to an extent, even if he found him insufferable at times. Most of his complaints involved Warchess being a romantic rival around the village. In those matters, Warchess was always the victor as well. “This in a matter of the gravest importance, and it demands all the attention we can muster to settle it. We shall divide ourselves equally and head out in opposite directions, with but a few of us remaining to tend to matters here at home. Console, of course, as our erstwhile leader shall remain and determine the appropriate course of action once we have found our results, and Yagan as well, as he is unfit to ride such a treacherous path,” it was not certain if his suggestions were a slight against either man, or unintentional. “If we find any proof of these claims, we will report back to Console immediately. All in favour?” he put it to a vote with a raise of his hands more out of custom than anything else. Everyone save Yagan raised their hands. Grey and Elith sustained because they did not have authority in such matters, and were merely observers. “All opposed?” Yagan still did not raise his hand, but looked sullen as Warchess looked upon him expectantly. “It is agreed. We shall leave as early as possible, pending the weather and road conditions. Honourable Grey Tracis, do you have any inkling when this storm might subside?”
Grey winced at the mention of his name, knowing he had no choice but to confess his knowledge. “Three days from now, by noon,” Grey told him.
“Three days?” Warchess was disappointed, as were a few others. They knew he was never wrong on such subjects, though, and did not press him. “Very well, that gives us time to prepare. I volunteer myself to ride all the way round the mountain range, if need be, to give a full report.” Being a Northman, Warchess had no fear of the Northern tribes, or hazardous snows. “If there are any who wish to undertake this journey with me, please speak with me later. All of this brings forth a concerning matter. After all these years, we are still no closer to unravelling what is the source of this calamity. Insofar, we have only had the elven Exodus as our source of information, but they have taken whatever knowledge they had with them, and none dare follow them to discover that secret, for fear and certainty of never returning. This mist, the Ending, was wrought by the Gods themselves, and to claim we can ever truly understand it is a blasphemy. Still, we must try, for our lives are at stake. This village -or should I say, ‘township,’ as it is ever growing- is at stake. What is the mist? Where does it come from? How long will it last? Don’t these questions still vex you, or have you contented yourselfs to merely piling up dirt in front of it in the vain hopes that it will go away? We are building a dam to keep out destruction itself, and that damn is collapsing.”
“Well said,” Console nodded in sage agreement. The tip of his stiff, black beard brushed the linen of his white shirt as he nodded. Console always dressed simply, like a common villager, but he was the most revered man in Karnassass, and his name and legend were known far and wide. He, along with Grey’s father Rekon, were two of the only survivors of the Ending in town. Console himself had actually witnessed it, though he would never speak of it in public. Console was respected for this, but more for his power. He was one of the highest ranking members in the Geomancer Guild, despite once belonging to the Shadow Guild. Very few men, if any, could claim to have such raw, natural talent that they could master two disciplines as he had. He transferred over to the Geomancers Guild shortly after the ending to oversee the construction of the Barricade, or mountain, but still kept up his practices in the Shadow arts, and often conferred with the Shadow Guild itself. He had even taken up Grey as his apprentice once it became clear he was developing his powers, although Grey’s inclination was in another field of study entirely. Console was such an accomplished scholar that he could teach any subject at whim, including his adopted daughter, Elith’s own Nature studies. Truth be told, he was more comfortable as a teacher than he was in the Geomancers Guild, and had been bolstering Warchess as his eventual replacement at the helm, though protocol demanded many more years of service and accolades from Warchess before that could happen. Console had once been a Dean at the Magi Academy, but that was before the War. He still took trips back to the Academy itself to give lectures and attend important ceremonies. “We have all but abandoned our studies in favour of brute labour. It has proven effective in only delaying the inevitable. We’ve been trying to wait out this proverbial storm, but now it appears as if the dam’s been breached.”
The doors opened and Grey’s father entered into his dining hall, which he graciously had lent out to the Guild for so many years. He was also a gracious host, and had reason to be. The Guild brought in more business than he could ever hope to see without. He had not yet obtained his lordship from his father when the Guild had first planted its roots in Karnassass, but ever since his position had been elevated from a noble in title and holdings only to a true power. He had more authority than most Dukes, and had a place in the King’s court, not that a former general of his stature wouldn’t have had such a seat to begin with. Recon had shocking red hair that showed no grey despite his years. Grey, his second son, could not say the same. He was as his name told. Rekon had a wineglass in his hand, and had likely be refilled a few times before he had entered. It was empty now, and one of his loyal servants filled it for him again with his favourite red. He had a business making cider right on the premises from their extensive apple orchards the manor was once primarily known for, but he always preferred red eleven wine, a habit that Elith quite approved of. She had inherited a vineyard from her family after the War, which she had late sold some of the right to Rekon in order to restore it to some of it’s former glory. It had yet to turn a profit, but Rekon was well pleased with the fruits of it’s labour. Out of the two of them, Rekon was far more interested in the business than Elith would ever be. She had to be reminded at times that she even had a source of income.
“How is everyone tonight?” Rekon inquired. They all simply nodded at him at best as he made his way to the head of the table. While the rest of them were enjoying a late dinner prepared by Rekon’s cooks, he had already eaten. Still, he instructed his servant to bring him something to dine on. The Guild met weekly at Rekon’s estate, and he provided for them all that they required, and then more. In exchange, both the Guild and the King paid him handsomely. There had been some talk about building a separate hall in Karnassas exclusively, but it had never gone beyond the design stages. Still, it seemed like an eventuality, but in the meantime, Rekon made sure to see to everyone’s whims to keep it from becoming a reality. He instead pressed for the creation of an actual Academy in Karnassass where the Geomancer Guild could take residence over. Grey welcomed that day. Studying under Console had given him dreams of one day teaching himself. All the better to do it from his own doorstep. “What are we discussing?” Rekon was welcomed to the meetings as an impartial observer, and as their host. He also acted as an intermediary between them and the local residents, although Grey often filled that role himself. The locals by-and-large welcomed the Guild, but there were often issues and points on which they clashed. There were also those who held a deep-seated superstition against those who wielded magic, but they were few and easily undermined. There was no arguing with the economic benefit that the Guild brought in.
“An expedition to determine if the mists have spread into your lands, sire,” Warchess said graciously. “There are rumours about that they have.”
“I have heard these rumours, and believe them. When my own son tells me, I believe it to be the truth,” he swigged his wine.
Grey was confused for a moment, then understood. “Father, are you saying that Arolas has returned?”
“I do indeed say that. The Mountainmen have come round and your brother has spoken to me privately. He has confirmed what you’ve been alluding to here this evening. The mists are spreading. Beyond mere observation, what are your plans?” Rekon inquired.
“We shall shore up whatever defenses are found lacking, sire,” Warchess assured him.
Rekon was not reassured, however. “Is that it? You’re going to play in the dirt? Nothing else?”
“There is nothing else we can do, sire. That is all in our power to do,” Warchess said regretfully.
“Don’t take it so hard, son,” Rekon said affectionately. He had a soft spot for Warchess, as did many. “I know you’re doing all you can. Sometimes, I can only wonder if it’s enough.” He drained the last of his wine.
“Sire,” the servant who filled his cup returned to the room after a short absence and kneeled down beside him to speak formally. “There’s a pair of strangers outside requesting your audience.”
“Strangers?” Rekon was curious. “My favourite kind of people. Send them in!”
The servant left after refilling his wine from the decanter. It was not uncommon for Rekon to accept any invite. He waited patiently at the table until practically forgetting them at all. The Guild recommenced with their discussion and plans. Markay had vowed to lead the opposite team to Warchess. The pair were rivals, of a sort. Both differed to the other on many points, and it led to a more effective Guild.
A while had passed, and the guild dove in quotas. Rekon and the rest had practically forgotten about the invitation when the door opened once more. In walked a pair of oppositely dressed siblings, as Grey could immediately fathom from their similar features. The man in particular looked very familiar, although he couldn’t place where he had seen him before. The woman, on the other hand, was one of the most striking females he had ever seen, but with pure white hair, although she seemed to be the same age as himself. They wore white and black cloaks, and rivalled Warchess in their height. Upon seeing the pair, Warchess rose and bowed to them, as he instinctively knew them to be nobles as himself. Rekon remained reclined in his chair and observed them curiously.
“My lord, might I introduce both Lord Desious and Lady Silva,” the servant announced.
“Lady Silva and Desious,” the Lady corrected, although Desious did not approve. Her voice was as strange as her appearance, but not unpleasant in either respect. They were soaked to the bone and dripping on the floor, but neither showed any discomfort.
“Aye? Lord and Lady?” Rekon regarded them suspiciously. “And where do you hail from?”
“From beyond the mountains,” Desious answered for them. “In a land you have no name for.”
“Excuse me?” Rekon sat up. “To which mountains do your refer?”
“Which mountains do you think I mean? The bloody Assards? Look North, you fool. We come from beyond that range,” Desious told him.
“I am no fool,” Rekon immediately warned him. “If you come from the North, you be Northmen, though none I’ve ever heard of before.”
“Really? You don’t get it?” Desious shook his head. “We come from the mists, and the darkness within. We are lord and lady of that place. Do you understand now?”
“I must admit that I don’t,” Rekon laughed impatiently and held out his glass to be refilled. Beside Grey, Console rose unsteadily, his breathing ragged. If Grey wasn’t certain of himself, he thought it might have been fear he saw in his mentor’s eyes.
“I know this must be hard for you to understand, sheltered as you are,” Desious said as he boldly strode into the room. “But beyond the mists, there is another land, as there has always been. Since the Ending, though, it’s been hidden from you and changed dramatically, but it exists. We were born and raised there, and now as adults, we’ve come to you to extend our hand in peace, and to give you a dire warning.”
“Peace and dire warnings do not go intertwined,” Rekon laughed to himself and drained his glass in one gulp.
“True, it is we who offer our peace, but it is our brother who offers war,” Desious explained. He looked at those gathered and saw he had lost them, if in fact he had ever gained them to begin with. “I realize this all come as a shock to you. We know you are ignorant to our existence, and think the lands beyond the mountains lost to all time. They’re not, however. Inside the mists there’s an entire civilization. The lands you once knew as Orakrt have been reformed under our brother’s hand to become Asard. It is populated by the armies you thought destroyed in the Ending, and many more besides.”
“Blasphemy!” Tagard proclaimed as he struck his palm on the table. “Rekon, call the guard and have these fools imprisoned at once!”
“Who are you, old man?” the woman stepped forward and pointed a long finger at Tagard.
“Please, sister, let me handle this,” Desious begged as he tried to pry her away. Tagard shrank before the presence of the domineering woman, who glared at him with utter disdain. “Please, good sirs, listen to our pleas. We come to warn you of times to come. Our brother has taken the two armies of the Ending, and made them one. He had forged them into a weapon he will use to crush your Kingdom with and all Kingdoms of this world. I….” he looked at Rekon as saw he was not reaching him. “This sounds like nonsense to you, doesn’t it? I don’t blame you. Our two world have been completely cut off as yours is to the Elven world. You don’t even know what the mist even is, do you? It’s a dimensional barrier. Our father, Tokojite, and his killer Rekamyot created this dimension by way of their mutual destruction…”
“Blasphemy!” Tagard cried, and others took up his cause. “You claim the evil God Tokojite as your father? Rekon, this is worthy of an execution!”
Rekon laughed to himself, as he did not believe any of what he had heard. “This is truly a yarn worthy of our most incapable bards. Yet, Tagard is right. You speak of blasphemy. Tokojite has no children, and nothing remains of the lands beyond the mountain. Please, spare yourselves the wrath, and recant your claims.”
To answer him, Desious produced a dagger from his belt. Warchess, already standing, moved forward, as if to protect Rekon, but the Lord seemed unafraid. As they watched, Desious pressed the tip of the blade to his own neck and pressed down.The blade first bent, then snapped, sending the tip of the blade scattering onto the table. Markay picked it up and inspected it, with a shocked expression. He obviously found the blade not lacking. “I think you’ll find our executions near impossible, if that’s what you’re aiming for. We’re godlings. Little gods and quite immortal. That’s neither here, nor there, however, as we are more concerned with your continuing lives than our own. Asrat means to raze these lands in the name of our father. We have come to warn you.”
Rekon held out his hand to Markay, who passed the piece of dagger onto him. He examined it carefully, then looked up at Desious. “Would you submit yourself to a demonstration?” Rekon asked.
“If that’s what it takes,” Desious told him.
Rekon rose unsteadily from his chair and approached Desious cautiously. Grey rose from his own and followed him, fearing for his father. The woman, Silva, watched him intently as he came, as if he were the only person in the room. For a moment, to him, she was the only one as well. It was a peculiar feeling, and it slowly passed as he came to stand beside his father. Desious looked between him and his father, until he satisfied himself of their kinship. Besides the hair, the two did not look so different. Rekon produce a knife from the table and held it out. “Your arm, if you please,” Rekon told the men claiming to be part God. Desious held out his hand, and in anticipating his request, removed his black glove. Rekon looked at him curiously, then told him, “I’m going to make a small cut on you hand. If you’re truly immortal, this won’t be an inconvenience to you.” Desious merely smiled in response. Shrugging to himself, Rekon raised the knife and put it to the man’s palm. Grey watched as his father strained himself. Rekon clasped the man by the wrist with his free hand and pressed all the harder. Eventually, the blade slid off harmlessly and Rekon lost his grip. It scattered across the floor. Desious’s hand, meanwhile, was uncut.
“Satisfied?” Desious asked.
“Somewhat,” Rekon admitted. “That little trick of yours with the knife doesn’t seem to be all for show. I won’t bother to test the lady, as it’s impolite to stab a woman,” he laughed to himself. “You would still claim to be Tokojite’s own kin?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Desious put his glove back on.
“Rekon,” Console swallowed hard. “Look at them. Truly look at them. Tell me what you see.”
Rekon looked over to his old friend, who was practically cowering, then back at the pair. He looked at them for a long while, then blanched. He backed against the table, and would have fell if not for it. “You look just like him,” he realized.
“Thank you,” Desious said. “My mother always said I had my father’s eyes.”
At this cue, Grey held out his hand and began summoning his magic. The fear in his father’s eyes and quaver to his voice was not something he had ever seen before.
Silva interjected herself between Grey and her brother. She snatched out and grabbed Grey by the wrist. It felt as if two boulders hand just fallen on his wrist. Crying out, he went down to one knee. He was certain he had felt his own bones snap, although it wasn’t a sensation he was familiar with. As he writhed, she reached out with her other hand and stroked a lock of his hair that had fallen over his face. “Your hair is grey,” she said wonderously. “How peculiar. Quite handsome, though.” She let go, and all his pain left him. He touched his wrist gingerly and felt it unharmed.
“I’m sorry for my sister,” Desious apologized. “She’s overprotective. If I’m not mistaken, though, you were all discussing the mist before we entered.

Entry Four:

Entry Four:

            Gavin found himself roughly tossed into the back of the waiting stretch van. More of what he assumed were police were arriving on the scene as the doors shut behind him. Gavin picked himself up off the cold floor and struggled a bit with the cuffs behind his back before settling into a seating position. “I guess this isn’t going well,” he said.

            “This isn’t as bad as it looks,” Kylie told him. “Like I told you, just keep your mouth shut and we’ll make it though this.” He could barely make her out in the cabin’s dark interior.

            “They already took all of our gear,” Video grumbled.

            “We’ll see it again. Its got tracking chips in it,” Kylie assured him. “These monkeys will be lucky if they figure out how to even open it. I bet their best minds couldn’t even fathom our kind of tech.”

            “It would help if you didn’t call them monkeys,” Fredriks mentioned.

            “I’m still covered in blood,” Gavin said as he looked down at his shirt. “They won’t think I murdered someone, will they?”

            “I’m sure they won’t, seeing how we met them. How’s your ankle?” she asked inching closer on her backside. There were no seats in the cabin, and there was barely enough room for them all.

            “Its kind of creepy how they didn’t talk at all,” Goldie was sandwiched between Lance’s hulking figure and Video comparatively skinny one. They had been extra cautious cuffing Lance, but he offered them no resistance.

            “They probably all have mics in their helmet they chat with,” Video suggested. Fredriks had tried to talk with them, but they were mute the whole time.

            “Some planets have a strict policy when speaking with off-worlders,” Fredriks explained. “The first people permitted to speak to them are usually designated officials.”

            “At least they didn’t rough us up,” Video shrugged.

            “They handled Gavin a little rough,” Deborah claimed.

            “Well he can barely walk on his own, they probably thought he was resisting. Plus he’s got that blood on him. He’s lucky he didn’t get shot,” Video said dismissively.

            “You think this is my fault?” Gavin asked him.

            “We were going to get caught anyway,” Video said. “This was all pretty dumb of us. Or Kylie. Or Corporate. Of pretty much everyone.”

            “Would all of you babies hush up,” Kylie said as she looped her cuffs under her tucked feet and brought her hands out from behind her back.

            “Please don’t do anything rash,” Fredriks saw what she was doing.

            “I’m only trying to get comfortable,” Kylie said. “Plus it’ll help if I have jump them.” Somehow, they had overlooked the knife in her boot. It fitted in perfectly with the seams, so as to be invisible. To the untrained eye, her boots merely looked bulky. Gavin looked at his own boots and wondered if he had one as well. They had tried to take off his wrist unit, but it was firmly attached. Even he didn’t know how to take it off, which would prove difficult when he needed to change. One of the cuffs had to be widened to fit around it at the wrist. They had also attempted to pull out the node on his neck, but his screams of agony convinced them that it was physically a part of him. They were rather rushed about their business.

            Soon enough, the vehicle began to move and they saw the flashing lights out the narrow back window.

            “They’re taking us to the city, right?” Goldie asked.

            “They have to,” Kylie said, but she didn’t sound too sure of herself.

            “I think your ankle may need so medical attention,” Deborah told Gavin.

            “I’ll be fine. It hurts less now that I’m sitting,” he told her. He could feel it swelling in his boot. He noticed how the boot was muddy, but it hadn’t been scuffed in the confrontation. The fabric his clothes was made of was surprisingly resilient. His chest beneath his shirt, however, felt bruised, but he had no way of checking at the moment.

            “Everyone should have had a First Aid kit in their packs, which isn’t exactly going to do you any good right now,” Kylie told them. She had gone to the back window, their only source of light, and peered out at the streets passing. They had gone from dirt roads to a type of pavement. Their gear had gone into another truck, which was following behind them. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll just remote detonate the bomb you were carrying.”

            “What?” Gavin exclaimed loudly.

            “Oh, that was too easy,” Kylie laughed at him, then turned back to watching the street. Gavin scowled at her as she said, “I wouldn’t trust you to carry matchsticks.” The van swerved and Kylie had to prop herself against the door to keep from falling over.

            “Thank you for earlier,” Gavin said to her once she had righted herself.

            “No sweat. Are you going to pull through? I’m not sure how much of that blood is yours,” Kylie looked concerned.

            “None of it,” Gavin assured her. “Thank you too, Deborah. You’ve been a good friend to me.”

            Deborah smiled at him. “What do you think is going to happen to us?”

            “They’ll probably throw us into a holding cell. They’ll treat us like illegal aliens, because we are. They’ll interrogate us, but their form of government doesn’t use torture,” Kylie explained. “We have rights like everyone else. We might need lawyers, but hopefully we should able to sort everything out quickly. Aliens attract a lot of attention, and we should be able to meet with higher ups quickly instead of dealing with low level police officers like the pair that put us in this paddy wagon.” The van was slowing down, and there was more traffic. The cars parted for them to pass through. Passer-bys on the street craned their necks to look at the van race along. Kylie waved to them and gave a wink before laughing and sitting back down. “Either way, we’re still alive.”

            “Why are you in such a good mood?” Deborah asked. “We were nearly gored by wild animals, we’re under arrest, and when we get back home you’re probably going to be demoted.”

            “Please,” Kylie rolled her eyes. “You act like everyone gets demoted all the time. I haven’t seen it happen in the longest time. If anything, people are getting promoted more often than not, especially now. Just ask our new Chairman, if you like.”

            “So our careers aren’t in jeopardy?” Kylie asked.

            “You could put anything in the report you file for this,” Kylie claimed. “You could say you killed a dragon, if you like. Look at our staffing shortages. Do you think anyone is going to read your file? It’ll get dumped somewhere while you’re sent off on your next assignment. They’re going to keep running you ragged. They’ll promote you just so they can give you a heavier workload, while keeping your allowance the same.”

            “We’re getting paid?” Gavin asked.

            “Virtually nothing, of course,” Kylie told him. “Not enough to buy those new shoes and purse you’ve been eyeing. It’s just a little spending credit. The higher your rank, the more you get. Why’d you think they’d still you rookies in the bottom rank? You’re making the least of anyone.”

            Gavin found he suddenly had an opinion about his rank and job, but the suddenly squealing of the tires made him paused. They head the clanking of a gate being raised, and then slammed shut behind them as the van went on an incline. It got darker outside as they went into and underground parking area. The van stopped completely and the back doors burst open. A large group of guards in black were standing outside, all wearing the same type of helmets with dark visors. They proceeded to enter the van and drag them out into the long, white corridor connected to the loading bay. The lights above were made of glass balls filled with a glowing liquid substance. As they passed an open door that led into an office, he heard Kylie laugh and say, “You still use paper?”

            As they reached the end of the hall, it divided into two separate corridors. A grim looking man in uniform stood there without a helmet. He looked them over once and then proceeded to point in opposite directions for the boys and the girls. When Gavin was presented to him, he looked him over carefully and then said, “Take him down to Room B and get him cleaned up.”

            Room B itself was not far away. The two guards dragging him unlocked the door with a key card and then forced him inside. They brought him over to a metal bench built into the wall and set him down. The room was all white with a table screwed to the floor and no chairs. There were mirrors on opposite ends of the room and no windows. The one guard left while the other stood posted by the door, watching him silently. His one hand was on his gun holstered to his chest.

            Gavin, not knowing what to do or if he should say anything, simply sat and watched the man, who barely seemed to breathe. In a minute or two, the door opened again and the second guard brought in towels. He threw them at Gavin from across the room and ordered him,  “Get that blood off of you.” Gavin couldn’t help but notice there was a strange tinge to his accent. It sounded like and American doing a British accent, and he wondered if it was the node translating for him.

            “Did he kill someone?” the first guard by the door asked through his helmet.

            “They didn’t say anything about that,” the second guard said as he posted himself by the opposite side of the door. “They said they found them in the woods being chased by some boars.”

The first guard snickered at that. “Well what are you waiting for?” he asked afterwards, noticing that Gavin hadn’t moved to touch the towels. “Oh,” he realized that Gavin was still cuffed. “Who’s got the keys?”

The second guard simply shrugged and the first left the room to go and check.

When the door opened again after a minute, the guard looked over and who entered and immediately snapped to attention, placing their fist beside their helmet in a salute. The new person was a woman with steely grey eyes and hair to match., It was short-cropped and whipped up to a point at the front. A pale scar ran down the one side of her cheek, which was tan by contrast. She wore a grey uniform with shoulder pads and numerous pockets under her breasts and at her hips. She wore a gun in a holster over her breast like the guards did, with what appeared to be a truncheon at her belt. By the gun on her opposite breast was a row of gold medals. She barely glanced over at the guard as she made her way into the room. Her thick-soled boots clunked heavily on the bare stone floor. She walked halfway across the room and then stopped, standing with her arms crossed behind her back.

A second woman followed, and at seeing her, the guard immediately went down on one knee and bowed with his fist over his heart. Strangely enough, she had blue hair, but here eyebrows were black. She looked scarcely older than he himself, while the woman in uniform looked about forty or more. She wore a tank top with a black vest overtop with numerous pouches, and baggy pants held to her waist by a length of thick chain. Her bare arms showed various nicks and cuts, and she wore fingerless gloves on each hand. At first he thought here fingernails were painted black, but then he realized it was simply grime. In one hand she held a pair of goggles that she tapped into her other palm rhythmically. She was chewing on something with great vigour.

“I like this one,” she said to the older woman with a thick accent, “he looks dangerous.”

“He is dangerous,” the woman responded with a disappointed look. “He’s an outsider.”

“He’s a Generate,” she marvelled at him and came closer. Leaning in close and quickly, she grabbed him by the chin and tilted his head up. “A cute one.”

“My lady,” the woman growled her disapproval. “If your mother knew you were down here…”

“She’d what?” she looked backing, tossing her hair a little as she did. She didn’t bother waiting for an answer, and instead focused her attention on him. “What’s your name, Red?”

“Gavin Dales,” he smiled at her as best he could. She was still holding his chin.

“Gavin,” she let go of his chin and tapped him on the nose with her blackened finger. “What are you doing in here, Gavin? You kill someone?”

“No, I was attacked by a boar,” he admitted.

“You’re a hunter?” she asked, crossing her arms and stepping back a little.

“Not at all, we were in the woods and we came across some wild boars,” he explained.

“And what were you doing in the woods?” she pondered, pacing back and forth. The other woman was caressing the hilt of her truncheon as she glared at him.

“We were walking to the city,” Gavin admitted and shifted on the bench to make his hands more comfortable.

“And why were you coming to the city?” she waved her hand around in the air as she looked over at the mirror. The guard was still kneeling, and was completely ignored by both women.

Gavin swallowed. “Look, if you want to know, I’ll tell you, but it should all sound strange to you. It’s strange to me too. I’m from another dimension, and we came looking for some people we work with that are stranded here.”

The woman looked at the mirror for a moment longer, then looked back at him. “So you’re the rescue party?” she sounded doubtful.

“I know that whole part about being from another dimension sounds a little odd, but it’s true. We have some travellers here that were supposed to make First Contact with your world and it’s government, but there was an incident back home. Now everything’s in chaos and we need to bring them home right away,” Gavin shrugged helplessly and looked down at his feet. “Only it’s not going so well. Please, if you can, I need to find a man named Victor. He should be a Generate like me, probably wearing the same uniform.”

The older woman looked alarmed at the mention of Victor’s name, and gripped her truncheon more tightly.

The younger woman strode up to him and grabbed his collar. For a moment, he thought she was going to hoist him up by his collar, but she merely looked at it. “Where’s your pin?” she asked.

“Pin?” Gavin was confused. He tried to think of why she would look at his collar and expect to see a pin when he remembered Kylie wearing one. “I haven’t got one yet. I only started yesterday.”

The woman scrunched up her nose at that. Now she hoisted him up by his collar. She brought him to his feet, spun him around, and then slammed his face against the wall. Next, he felt her hands and his wrists. She did something, and he felt his wrist unit slip off and scrape away from the cuff surrounding it. She wasn’t gentle about it.

The woman put the unit around her own wrist and proceeded to play with the screen. She saw something that surprised her, but then she looked at him and noticed something. She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair and touched the node on his neck. “Captain Gavin Dales of X-77,” she recited as she read from the wrist unit. She tapped at the screen a few more time and then said, in an odd voice, “Happy birthday? You weren’t kidding.”

“Anything on that device could be easily faked,” the older woman warned. “We need to get it to R&D to see if they can retrieve any useful information from it.”

“Pish-posh,” the woman said dismissively. “I’m not giving up my new piece of jewellery. Guard,” she snapped her fingers at the man across the room. “Guard?” she said a little more loudly as he did not immediately respond. She stormed across the room, snapping her fingers in the man’s face.

“Yes, my lady?” the man looked up.

“Where are the keys?” she asked him.

“Steve went to get them,” he said, pointing out the door.

“Steve went to get them,” she repeated mockingly in a high-pitched voice. “Who is Steve? Am I supposed to go looking for Steve? Is that my job now? Go get the keys!” she kicked at him, and he ran scurrying from the room.

“That’s rather unlady-like, my lady,” the older woman frowned deeply at her.

“Like you would know anything about being a lady,” the woman laughed and played with the wrist unit. “After all these years I’m not entirely certain what you’re packing. I’m inclined to believe the rumours I hear. You should hear what Commander Sedin says about you behind your flat-buttocks.” She flipped through a few more images on the wrist unit, then looked up with an exasperated expression. “Really this is taking forever. Moriss, demote that man, and whoever Steve is. I dislike them both.”

“I don’t have authority over the police, my lady. Checks and balances, and so forth,” the other woman explained, still fuming.

“Then tell me what we’re doing in here, free-as-you-please? Who runs this country, after all?” she complained.

“The President, my lady,” the woman retorted with a triumphant smile.

“Oh, the President,” she mimicked her voice. “Please tell me what to do, Mr. President. We love you Mr. President. I’ve got your President right here!” she reached into her vest and produced a pistol. As the older woman in uniform drew back, shocked, she opened fire. A hot flash spread across the room.

Gavin had instinctively shut his eyes against the light. When he opened them her looked down at his wrists. All that was left of his cuffs were glowing hot metal, which soon fell to the floor. Gavin held them up to his face in disbelief as armed police officers crowded near the door in response to the shot they heard. Their hands were on their weapons, but the were reluctant to come into the room itself. “You there,” she waved the gun at the police standing in the door. “You let a lady walk into the precinct with a loaded weapon. Demotion, demotion, demotion,” she pointed at three of them. “Are you Steve?” she asked curious as she held the gun at one of the guards holding a pair of keys. “Too slow, Steve. Demotion!”

“My lady, I swear this is unacceptable behaviour!” the woman roared. “You could have killed this man before we can even interrogate him.”

“Relax, I’ll interrogate him back in my bedroom. Come along, Gavin,” she said in a sing-song voice and went out into the hall.

“You can’t take this prisoner with you!” the woman in uniform protested.

“I can’t?” the younger woman feigned shock and put one hand to her mouth. “Then who’s going to stop me? You?” she asked the woman. “You?” she pointed her gun at one of the police officers. “You, Steve? No, I didn’t think so. Come on, it’s a jailbreak. Oh, and I want the rest of them at the palace. See what you can do, Steve. I can’t have just one.”

Not knowing what else to do, Gavin slipped out into the hall after her, awkwardly nodding to the police as he went by and smiling as best he could. The woman was getting far ahead of him, and so he rushed after her.

The other woman put her head out into the hall and waved her fist at them. “You’re not getting away with this, do you hear me?”

“Do you hear me, my lady?” the younger woman corrected her as she threw open a pair of door. People in plain suits and uniforms turned from their work at their desks to gawk at them. When they saw who it was, they immediately went down to one knee. One person was a little too slow, and the woman standing next to him pulled on his pantleg. He shook himself and dropped the bundle of papers he was carrying to bow. The young woman laughed at him as she kicked open the front door and went down to the street.

Traffic was back up half-a-block, as there was a large bike parked across both lanes. Two police officers stood beside it, scratching their heads while a third tried to console the drivers and get them to turn back. They honked their horn and swore at them

When the two officers saw her come out, though, they went down to her knee. One was beside the bike, and the woman stepped up onto his back and onto the vehicle. It had no wheels he could see, but it had a pair of jets sticking out the sides. The woman pressed her feet down onto the pedals and reached up to put her hair into a ponytail and donned her green goggles. The bike roared to life and hovered up off the ground. “Well?” she asked him as if he were stupid.

Gavin scrambled up on the bike behind her. It was longer than the cars in the street by half. The noise was practically deafening. She tapped on the main console a few times then looked back at him. She reached out, and put his one hand on her hip quite deliberately. He followed her lead and put the other hand as well. “Come on, let’s go celebrate your birthday,” she told him as the pulled away from the street. They hovered up slowly, and then she kicked in with the speed. Gavin had to hold on for dear life as they tore away.

She titled heavily and flew at and angle, until Gavin was practically falling. “You fly?” she shouted back at him. He noticed she was still holding on to the pistol in one hand.

“Not really, no,” he shouted.

“But you’re a pilot, it says,” she shouted at him. She slowed down before a tall building then darted around it.

“I haven’t really had the chance,” Gavin explained as loud as he could.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense,” she was steadily gaining altitude. They were as high as the tallest building there and he could barely make out the people in the streets. His eyes were watering and he had to squint. She kicked out both of her feet away from the bike as she cut the engines. They began to plummet into a free fall. Gavin tried as best as he could not to scream as the ground came closer, while the woman herself gave a yelp of joy. When they were close enough to practically touch the pavement, she turned the jets back on and took off down the street, careening in and out of traffic. They approached a tall wall that seemed to stretch for blocks and she jumped over it and skidded towards an open garage. Gavin had barely enough time to make out the image of a sprawling white palace surrounded by a green garden inside of a walled area before they were deep inside the garage itself. She finally touched down and took off her goggles. “You like that?” she winked at him as she fixed her hair. “You can let go now,” she told him, indicating his hands at her waist. “Better yet, don’t.”

A man was striding towards them, hunched over with his fists balled. “Explain yourself!” he bellowed as he crossed the garage. There were other bikes like one she had lining the walls.

“I’ve caught the prisoner trying to escape!” she waved to the man as she stepped down off the bike.

“This has gone far enough, Jackie! Moriss called me to tell me you shot up a police station,” he towered over her, wagging his finger.

“She’s being dramatic,” the woman named Jackie said flippantly. “But look, I got you a present! Ta-da!” she presented Gavin as she changed the subject.

The man looked back and forth between the two, debating if he should continue with Jackie. “I’m sorry about all this,” he ran his hand through his thick hair and extended the other to shake with Gavin. “My name’s Victor. I’ll assume Coporate sent you.”

Entry Two:

Entry Two:

            Gavin took his first real sip of water from the dispenser in the corner. It tasted wrong. All his life he had assumed he knew what water tasted like and now he found it had no taste at all. He still had an acidic taste in his mouth from the vat chemicals which the water did not wash away.

            “How old am I?” he asked thoughtfully.

            “Probably two, or so,” Deborah sat with her head on the table. Their new quarters were Spartan. The main entrance led into a kitchen area with a small area to prepare meals. There was no stove, only a square-shaped dispenser with a touch pad to select meals. The dishes themselves came out of the dispenser as well, and went into another waste unit directly below. Gavin imagined they were recycled and reused in the same dispenser. There was a shutter below the dispenser as well that led to the bare floor. Gavin had no idea what it was for and it wouldn’t open. He had first thought that was where the trash was supposed to go. To the left of the kitchen was a seating area centred around a holographic projector set into the floor and low ceiling. To the right was the bathroom. Two separate doors at the back of the kitchen led to the shared bedrooms, one for girls and one for boys. Above their entrance was their crew name, “X-77,” in indigo blue. Beyond that there was no decoration. Everything was clean and sterile, even the air. “We all are.”

            Video was curled up on one of the two identical couches in the seating area. Goldie was completely sprawled out on the opposite. She hadn’t said anything since they brought her here and she appeared to be sleeping softly. Video was appropriately enough watching videos of the attack. “We’re only useful to them in our prime, so they grow us to that stage and keep us that way as long as possible.”

            “The Corporation, you mean,” Gavin surmised.

            “What’s left of it,” Video rubbed his eyes and turned off the news. “It’s been weeks and it’s still the only news story.”

            “Why grow us? Why not use… real people? Am I real?” Gavin felt like he was having his second existential crisis of the day.

            “We’re human enough,” Deborah told him, “only better. We don’t get sick or age normally. We’re smarter, stronger and faster. That’s why they use us instead of Norms. Norms spread disease into other dimensions and bring it back too. One viral infection could wipe out entire civilizations.”

            “That’s why whoever attacked our people must have used their nano-virus. There’s no biological defence against nanobots. You can’t even scan for them properly in their dormant state,” Video recited.

            “You seem to know a lot about this,” Gavin came and sat with him. He spoke softly so as not to wake Goldie.

            “I’m an Engineer,” he insisted. “It’s what I’m designed to know. That’s the other aspect of being a Generate. While we’re still developing us they run use through the programs in the Nursery. We’re ‘born’ knowing everything we need to do out jobs. Everyone but you, it looks like, and the rest of the First in our Generation.”

            “Even with what they’ve done, there can’t be enough First this Generation to fill all of the empty positions. This is going to take years to finish recruiting,” Deborah mentioned.

            “Worse still, the next Generation will probably get to finish their programming. They’ll be better suited for their jobs than you or me,” Video complained. “We’re getting the short end of the stick. No matter how hard we work, we’re always going to be on the bottom as newer, better Generates take the positions we want.”

            “That’s why we have to prove ourselves,” Deborah sat up sharply as if reinvigorated. “We Ace our first assignment and we get them to take notice. The only thing we’ve got going for us is how well we can operate in the field. If we get the experience we need, we can advance.”

            “How dangerous is this job?” Gavin wondered. “I mean we lost thousands in a blink of an eye, and we don’t even know why?”

            “We’re pseudo-soldiers,” Video told him. “Remember the part where she said we’re stronger than Norms? They’re the ones we’re doing business with. We’re their metal and physical superiors, and we’re the ones with all the cool toys. They may have their armies, but they can’t touch us. They’d only be shooting themselves in the foot if they did. Virtually all new technology comes from the Corporation. If they stop us, they stop progress.”

            “Then who are our enemies?” Gavin wondered.

            “Everyone,” Video insisted. “We’re just one Corporation in a multi-verse of Corporations. Our jobs put us in direct conflict with rival Corporations who want us out of the way. We’re at constant war, even if we don’t know who the enemy is.”

            “And all of this is over trade?” Gavin couldn’t put his head around it.

            “Call it trade, or call it conquest, it’s all the same. We’re an Empire that stretches across the known Universe and into countless others. We’re just the scouts who find new worlds with new resources. If we’re lucky, we’ll never see open conflict, but by the sounds of the news, that’s not likely going to happen.”

            The main entrance opened and two teenagers stepped inside. One was a man with unkempt black hair and pale complexion and a rather sharp nose like a hawk. The other was a tall woman with honey-brown hair and skin to match. They looked around the room cautiously. The boy referred with his wrist unit, then looked up at Gavin and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Captain Dales. My name’s Fredricks. I’ve been assigned as your Ambassador.”

            Gavin rose to shake his hand. “Thank you, but it’s not, ‘Captain Dales.’ I’m simply Gavin Dales.”

            “Are you kidding me?” Deborah tapped at her wrist unit. “No, he’s right. Gavin, you’re the Captain of our crew. You’re the one in charge.”

            “How can that be? I don’t even know what I’m doing!” Gavin protested.

            “Ah, modesty. I like that in a born leader,” Fredricks smiled at him. “And this is Lara. I can’t claim intimate knowledge, as we’ve only just met.”

             Lara waved to everyone then shook Gavin’s hand. “Are you confused as I am?”

            “Yes,” Gavin breathed a sign of relief. “I’m out of my element, if I even have one.” She laughed at this. “Are there more coming?”

            “One more, I think,” Fredricks answered for her. “Ah, here he is,” a bulky boy with dark skin came in. He looked far stronger than anyone Gavin had met yet. He had a square jaw and deep-set, yet thoughtful eyes.

            “Hi, I’m Lance,” he said shyly as he shuffled in. He was the tallest by far and slouched somewhat in the low vaulted room.

            “I think that’s the last of us,” Fredricks admitted. “Even the skeleton crews get skeleton crews.”

            Deborah made a frustrated noise. “We’re doomed,” she said. “There’s no way we can operate like this.”

            “That depends on the missions they throw our way,” Fredricks pointed out. “I think we’re more than capable of handling anything they serve up.”

            “Our first mission is likely a search and rescue, am I right?” Gavin looked around. “That shouldn’t be too hard, should it?”

            Deborah laughed at him, “Gavin, we could be heading into Hell itself. You have no idea what it’s like out there. I don’t, even.”

            “I’m trying to be optimistic,” Gavin frowned. “I doubt they’d want us dead as soon as we’re born.”

            Fredricks was already making himself a coffee at the dispenser. “I like you. I was worried, coming out, that X-77 would be a bunch of know-nothing rejects. Here you are, a man given the worse news he can get and you’re already looking forward to sunnier days.”

            “We are know-nothings,” Deborah informed him. “I don’t know Goldie’s story yet, but Gavin hasn’t graduated.”

            “Neither have I,” Lara admitted in his defence.

            “I don’t know what any of this is about,” Lance said as he deposited himself on the couch.

            “It’s about adventure, it’s about learning, it’s about experience,” Fredricks told him as he sipped at his coffee. “We’re going to look back on this as the start of something wonderful.”

            “We could be dead this time tomorrow,” Deborah argued. “How do we know we haven’t just been infected with the same nano-virus as the rest? You think our enemies will wait while we regroup?”

            “Who’s to say who our enemies even are?” Fredricks shrugged, still smiling.

            “I’m sorry,” Deborah lowered her head. “I had expectations about my life. I had dreams and ambitions. This… isn’t them. That’s nothing against you all. It’s this situation I’ve found myself in.”

            “None of us find this ideal,” Fredricks relented, “but look at it another way. You had your whole life laid out for you before you were born and now you’ve been dealt a wild card. Your fate isn’t so clear now. We can become our own people. We can become better than what we were made for.”

            Video had been tapping away at his wrist unit. “I’ve noticed something auspicious about this event. The nano-virus had the potential to completely wipe us out. I’m talking about every last man and woman. All it needed was more time. That means whoever did this jumped the gun. They either wanted us alive, or else they panicked.”

            “That’s interesting,” Fredricks told him.

            “So we’re safe for now,” Gavin furled his brow, “or until they can create a new virus.”

            “The station has had upgrades since the attack to scan for nano-viruses on every incoming party. There’s a rigorous quarantine procedure. That should make it safer for everyone on board. Once we’re off, though, there’s no protection,” Video barely glanced up from his wrist unit.

            “There’s something else I find interesting about this. The nano-virus can only infect Generates,” Video claimed. “That’s how it was programmed. Norms are immune. It has something to do with how we’re fitted for node receptacles. The virus specifically attacks that point by the brain stem. Death is almost instant after that as the connection between the brain and the spine is severed.”

            Deborah thought it over. “It can infect any Generate? What’s to stop it from infecting Generates from another dimension?”

            “That’s what’s weird about it. If it’s a rival Corporation, they’d be using Generates like us. They’d end up sacrificing their own people,” Video looked at a few vids on mute. “What would they gain?”

            “We might not even have been the ones targeted,” Deborah surmised. “We could have caught the virus accidentally.”

            “These are all speculations for people higher up than us,” Fredricks warned them. “There’s no need to trouble ourselves with this now.

            “We need to learn as much as we can as fast as we can,” Gavin told him. “An hour ago I didn’t even know I existed.” He walked back to the dispenser and went through the menu. “Do I even need to eat?” he asked no one in particular. “I’m not human, am I? How often should I eat? Should I sleep?”

            “You’re human,” Deborah assured him. “You need to eat when you’re hungry.”

            “Could you make us all dinner?” Fredricks suggested. “I’m sure we could use something after two years in the tubs.”

            Gavin thought about it for a while and then settled on burgers. The dispenser produced his meals almost as fast as he could open and close the door. He soon had the table set with Fredricks and Deborah helping him. “Come on, everybody. I’m not sure if it’s your favourite, but it’s your first meal ever, so you shouldn’t have a favourite.”

            Even Goldie came to the table. Gavin took a cautious bite. It was steaming hot, with a flavour he couldn’t place. His palate was woefully small. He put it back down and looked around. “Can we do this?” he asked them. “Can we work together?”

            “I don’t see why not,” Fredricks shrugged.

            “You’re the only people I know, so I couldn’t really imagine working with anyone else,” Video told him.

            “Why don’t we go over the roster,” Deborah tapped at her unit. “Gavin’s our Captain, after what must have been the shortest decision ever. That Linn woman must have just picked us at random. No offence,” she hastily added. “Lara, you’re apparently Lieutenant and Co-Pilot. Great, two pilots and no ship,” she mused to herself.

            “I don’t know anything about flying,” Lara told her.

            “Where have I heard that before?” Deborah rolled her eyes. “Video and Goldie are Engineers, not that we need even one. I’m Research. Fredricks is Ambassador and Lance is Soldier.”

            “I’m a Soldier?” Lance was confused. “Am I supposed to kill people?”

            “If it comes to that, yes,” Deborah told him. “Just pray it doesn’t. I’m guessing by your node that you’re not familiar with your job either. Aboard the ship you man the weapons. In the field, you carry the weapons. That doesn’t mean you have to fire them off all the time. Soldiers are mainly just for show and get used like pack mules.”

            “Does anyone else want to be Captain?” Gavin offered. “I don’t think I’m up for the job.”

            “It doesn’t matter what you think,” Deborah told him. “It’s your job and you have to fill it.”

            “What happens to me if I don’t agree to any of this?” Gavin wondered.

            “You don’t have that luxury,” Deborah explained. “It’s this or a prison planet. If you think you can escape, go right ahead. You’re on the edge of nowhere. Like you said, you don’t know how to fly, and you’re on a space station. Do the math.”

            “So this is the rest of my life? Never being able to decide what to do for myself?” Gavin was terrified. “How long do I live for?”

            “Usually around a hundred and twenty years or more,” Video told him. “In this line of work it’s considerably less than that.”

            “Do we get to retire?” Gavin asked.

            “In about a hundred years,” Deborah told him, “although most stay on longer than that.”

            “Do you think…” an idea occurred to Video and then he began to tap on his wrist unit. “Oh, thank you,” he said to the file he read. “For a moment, I wondered if the last people who lived here were dead. We’re in a recommissioned dorm. The last X-77 team disbanded over twenty years ago.”

            “So we don’t have to worry about sleeping in the same beds as someone who died,” Deborah surmised, “or the legacies dropping in to see the new pledges. What am I saying? We’re in the bowels of the station. We’re lucky if anyone drops in.”

            “They’re putting everyone in the lower ranks. You shouldn’t feel so bad,” Fredriks told Deborah. “They’re the only available rooms. The rest of the quarters belonged to people M.I.A. or transfers.”

            “Maybe it isn’t as bad as I think it is,” Deborah tapped her fork on the table. She hadn’t touched her food. Lance was the only one vigorously attacking his meal. He was factually eating like he hadn’t eaten in years. Goldie looked at him with an expression that might have been disgust as crumbs trickled down his chin and onto his uniform. She herself drank heavily from the cup she had, but didn’t touch her food.

            The doorbell rang, which was the first time Gavin realized he had a doorbell. He got up from the table and answered it. A woman stood in the door. She was dressed in a uniform like his but with a ragged grey woollen cloak with a hood overtop. She looked tired and haggard, although she couldn’t have been much older than him. At her lapel was a button with the platinum insignia, “B-7.” Wisps of red hair trickled down from inside her hood and cascaded over her green eyes. Her nose was oddly pointed above her pursed lips. She stood there, with one gloved hand resting against the doorframe, staring at him searchingly. Her face was very sad.

            “Hello?” Gavin offered. “Can I help you?”

            Still, she said nothing. She merely looked at him with penetrating eyes beneath heavy lashes. At last, she turned and walked away down the hall.

            Gavin peered out after her, and she quickly disappeared around a bend in the hall. He shut the door and turned back to the room. “Who was that?” he asked.

            “How should we know?” Video asked him.

            “If you ask me, you have an admirer,” Fredriks winked at him.

            Gavin ran his fingers through his long hair, which had looked so much like the strange woman’s. It was one more thing to ponder. Goldie excused herself wordlessly and stumbled off to the bedroom. She left her untouched meal on the table, which Lance proceeded to snatch and devour. “I guess that’ll be the women’s sleeping quarters,” Deborah decided after the door closed behind Goldie.

            “We’re lucky to have a lot of empty beds,” Fredriks said. “This place seems rather large for the seven of us.” Gavin himself thought it was rather cramped, but then he had spent the largest part of his life in a metal container scarcely bigger than himself. He sat back down, but he still couldn’t get the thought of the woman out of his mind.

            The others grew tired shortly after having eaten and made their way off to bed as well. Gavin chalked it up to the after-effect of being born. He himself had too many questions racing through his brain to hope to find sleep. He sat at the table with his empty plate before him. Deborah was with him, but she was absently flicking through the news feed on the holopojector. At last, she turned it off and came over to him at the table.

            “Hey,” she said as she sat down. She reached out and put her hand over his hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

            “I’m not worried,” Gavin lied.

            “I want to thank you,” Deborah told him earnestly.

            “For what?” Gavin barely looked up at her. His gaze was on his plate.

            “For helping me today. I know this has to be harder for you than it is for me. You really stood out,” she told him.

            “Thank you,” Gavin glanced up at her. “I mean that. I thought… I’d go crazy a few times in there. Maybe I am. I don’t know,” he admitted.

            “You’re not crazy. I don’t think you can psychologically go crazy. You’re genetically engineered to adapt and you’re stronger than you’ll ever know,” she explained. “Still, it can be tough.”

            “Are you doing okay?” he asked. “This all seems like a disappointment for you.”

            “It is,” she admitted. “I’m sorry that I’ve been so negative, but this is devastating for me. They bred me to have certain ambitions, and they’re not being met.”

            “I hope I can be what you need,” he told her. “I don’t want to be Captain, whatever that entails. I’d rather be… I don’t know.”

            “You couldn’t know. They never taught you,” she said sympathetically. “What was it like, for you?”

            “I… I thought it was real. I imagined most of it, I guess. I’m not talking about the simulation itself, I’m talking about everything around it. I imagined I had my own home, my own parents and friends. Even in a fake world, that wasn’t real. I guess it was my subconscious filling in the blanks in my life, trying to make me feel real. Now I’m… nothing,” Gavin put a fist over his mouth and choked back a little.

            “Hey, don’t be that way,” she told him, leaning in. “You’re real. I’m here. Can you feel my hand?” she grasped his own hand firmly.

            “Yes,” he nodded. “I feel you.”

            “You were talking about escaping?” she whispered.

            “What? Yes. I don’t know,” Gavin shrugged. “Didn’t I already escape? I don’t know what kind of world is out there. I don’t even know where I am.”

            “Hold on to that feeling,” she told him in a hushed voice. “Then you’ll always know just where you are. I was in my own prison for a long time. You’re only in the vats for a couple of years, but to you it seems like decades. Once I learned where I really was, once they told me, I felt trapped. I could almost feel the wires sticking out of me. It was Hell, it really was, but I always knew that if I lasted there was a world waiting for me on the other side. Still, I thought about escaping from a cell that had no door. Now I’m out here and I’m as free as I’m allowed.”

            “Is it weird if we’re talking about rebelling against an organization I only just learnt existed?” Gavin asked her.

            She laughed at him. “No, it’s human nature I supposed. No one wants to feel trapped.”

            “I hope we can stay friends,” Gavin told her. “Are we friends?” he suddenly doubted himself.

            “Of course we are,” Deborah beamed. “We’ve been in this from the start, haven’t we?”

            “That was barely two hours ago,” Gavin laughed.

            “It seems like forever,” Deborah admitted. “That could be because of our perception of time regulating itself. We experienced maybe ten years crammed into the space of one. This is real time.”

            The shutter beneath the dispenser opened up and a small robot on a set of wheels rolled out. It was shaped like a trash can, and appropriately enough rolled up to the table and scooped up the dishes, depositing them inside its mouth on top of its head. It took no notice of either of them as it went about its task and then put the dishes into the refuse station. Deborah and Gavin looked at each other and then laughed.