Valiant: Tales From The Archive

[CURSEd #34: The Invitation of Makalu]

Log Date: 2/19/12765

Data Sources: Darrow Bennion

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

C.V. Justice: Observation Deck

8:06pm LST

I’ve always found tunnelspace somewhat unsettling.

I’m not the only one. It’s a common sentiment, and it’s not hard to see why. There is something about tunnelspace that just feels unnatural; you get that vibe just by looking at it. Where normal space is darkness speckled with stars, galaxies, and points of light, tunnelspace is the layer that holds all the dark matter that helps bind together all the celestial bodies in their orbits. Some people compare it to a black spiderweb, but that doesn’t really do it justice; when I think of spiderwebs, I think of thin, clean lines with almost no profile. The filaments of dark matter that twist, wind, and intersect through tunnelspace are more like old cobwebs — broad and clotted, yet somehow also gauzy and ethereal. Unlike real space, tunnelspace isn’t darkness filled with points of light — it’s a dim, green background glow obscured and filtered around the countless strands and filaments of dark matter that stretch throughout the dimension.

Still, I find myself coming out to stare into that bruised abyss whenever I need to gather my thoughts, or reflect on things. There is a certain grandeur to the vast cosmos that can’t be denied; to see the structure of a galaxy laid out before you in such terms, to see the otherwise invisible scaffolding on which stars and planets hang. It gives you an appreciation for the grand order, the universal constants and scientific laws that govern the universe and determine the behavior of the celestial bodies within it.

The sound of shoes over stairs gets my attention; I turn to see someone coming off the circular stairwell that rises up into the observation lounge — a high elf with pale, silver hair, and an off-white tunic with wide sleeves. I give him a polite nod, and he does the same — but he speaks my name, keeping me from turning back around. “Axiom. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, thank you.” I say, a little surprised at that. “Do I know you?”

“Probably not.” he says, folding his hands into the wide sleeves of his tunic. I notice the cuffs and blue trim around the edges of his sleeves are tailored to resemble feathers. “I am Seer, a Peacekeeper that works in CURSE’s investigative unit. As you can imagine, the nature of my work gives me only passing interaction with the rest of the Peacekeeper roster.”

“Oh, right — I’ve heard of you.” I say as he arrives to the window not far from me. “I’ve seen your name in a lot of the advance team reports that we get as part of our briefings. You’re part of the department that lays the groundwork before combat teams arrive. Did you do the advance work for this assignment?”

“I did not.” he say, staring out the window at the tangled void of tunnelspace. “The administration asked me to join this assignment due to the nature of the destination and the risks it may pose. The Deputy Administrator thought my skillset would be of particular use given the assignment profile.”

I snort at that, turning back to the window. “Join the party. Lucky us, getting sent to the temple half sunk into a swamp.” I fold my arms, then realize I don’t actually know what he means by that. “Wait, what exactly do you do again…?”

“I am a Gazer. A disciple of Gryffin, the wereckanan god of seeing.” Seer explains. “Typically my abilities are used for looking into the recent past, hence my work in the investigative unit and as part of the advance teams. But with some effort, I can also discern things which have been lost or concealed. Which has some utility when it comes to ancient and abandoned temples on forgotten worlds.”

“Ah. So you’re our trap-spotter.” I surmise.

“More or less. I was told that the value of the object we are attempting to retrieve would likely warrant an extensive array of traps to protect it. So, here I am.” he concludes. “Since I am here, I figured I would take the opportunity to meet one of the more prestigious names in the organization.”

That gets another snort out of me. “You should probably be looking somewhere else, then. I’m just a guy in a suit of power armor.” I look down, realizing I’m actually in my uniform right now, and motion in the general direction of the ship’s aft. “I mean, technically the power armor is in the cargo bay right now, but you get the idea.”

“You do not think you are special because you rely on technology to break even with your coworkers, most of whom have powers or natural abilities of their own.” Seer says. “I would argue that is precisely what makes you unique: a normal human, pulling his own weight on a roster that is crammed full of people with arcane or biological advantages.”

The devastatingly accurate read catches me off guard. You typically don’t expect something like that from someone you just met. “…if you’re wondering, I’ve already got a therapist.” I say, shifting a little on the spot.

“That is good to hear. I am glad that someone is availing themselves of the organization’s healthcare coverage.” Seer replies. “The package is quite generous at the Peacekeeper level, and the position certainly comes with a high level of stress. I have seen Peacekeepers fail to tend to their mental health before, and burn out as a result. Would be a shame if it happened to you.”

“I don’t think it will. But I can definitely understand how the strain gets to people sometimes.” I agree, my thoughts flitting to Roya for a moment before roving away again, content to leave the past in the past.

A moment of awkward silence ensues; neither of us say anything, mostly because the conversation hadn’t been going anywhere in particular. I rack my mind, trying to rustle up a topic that might have some mileage in it, but I’m coming up blank — I barely know Seer, so I don’t really have much to work with. I feel some relief when he speaks before me, though the direction he goes in takes me off guard.

“It may come as a surprise to you, Axiom, but I spend most of my time away from the HQ.” Seer says without taking his eyes off the macrocosmic web of filaments outside. “The administration keeps me busy with long deployments to keep me distanced from the core of the organization. Do you know why this is?”

“Uh…” I really don’t know what to do with that. One moment we’re having a casual conversation, the next moment he’s asking me why the administration keeps him at arm’s length. “…I wasn’t aware. And I don’t, no. As in, I don’t know why they do that. It’s probably not intentional…”

“Believe me, it is very deliberate.” he asserts. “It is difficult to hide things from a Gazer. Often we see things — things people do not want us to see. Things people wish to keep concealed.” He turns his gaze on me. “What the administration has sent you to retrieve on Svyash is dangerous. The reasons why they have sent you to retrieve it are even more so. You may want to start asking more questions about the things you are being asked to do, and how the administration intends to use the things they have ordered you to retrieve.”

I give him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not everyone shares the ethos that you do. There are many who join CURSE to help preserve order and peace in the galaxy, as you did. And there others that view CURSE as a tool for the furtherance of certain convictions, and sometimes for personal gain.” he says, turning away from the window. “Some of these people are in positions of power or authority within CURSE, and their ambitions have motivated them to make decisions of questionable morality. You might want to examine your workload more closely, and ask yourself who benefits from it — and whether you might be complicit in things that have passed unseen.”

His grave warning leaves me mentally staggered, to the point that I don’t know what to say as he makes his way back to the stairwell. When I finally get my words together, it’s to call after him in protest, almost as a challenge. “Well— if you know about it and you’re aware of it, why haven’t you done anything? Said anything?”

He stops at the stairs, looking back at me. “You do not know about the Gazer religion, or our code of ethics. We are people that see the past; people that see secrets; people that see what is hidden. The things we see, the knowledge we have, can often undo lives; destroy careers; in some cases, topple governments. The damage we could do with the knowledge we acquire is immense, and so we limit ourselves to being witnesses. We observe, we investigate, but we do not act on the things we see. We pass that knowledge on to others, so they may act on it, perhaps with more wisdom than we would have. That is why I go with the advance teams; that is why I am in the investigative unit, and do not participate in combat. I am only there to serve as a witness, and provide information to others so they can act on it as they see fit. And in your case, to provide a warning about what I have seen.”

I frown; that feels a bit like a cop-out to me. To see things, to know about things, but then to wash your hands of them and pass it off to others so they can decide what to do with it. “So what, you’re just going to give me a vague warning, no names, no clues, and just walk away like that’s supposed to be enough? What am I supposed to do with that?”

“You’re supposed to open your eyes a little wider. Look a little closer. Start asking questions about the things you’ve been asked to do, and thinking about who benefits from them.” Seer encourages. “Start with Songbird and the Valiant. Why is it so important that they’re defeated at all costs?”

“Well, they’re a threat to the stability of the galaxy.” I begin, even though I’m not putting my full enthusiasm behind it. “If we let them run amok, they’re going to disrupt the order that’s been built over the last sixteen years…”

“And what have they destabilized so far, Axiom?” Seer asks, watching me intently. “I will agree that the galaxy is unstable right now, far more than it has been in the last decade and a half. But that is because the Collective assimilated Mokasha, and now someone has decimated Tirsigal, possibly in retaliation for Mokasha. Can either of those things be blamed on the Valiant or Songbird personally?”

“Well… no.” I admit reluctantly. “But there’s been unease in the Colloquium ever since the Challengers returned in the form of the Valiant. Some governments have been shifting their priorities and policy direction because of it—”

“And to what end?” Seer asks relentlessly. “Are they gearing up to pursue any wider reorganization of their societies, or are they merely adjusting their position so they can have a working relationship with the Valiant if they become too big to ignore?”

“I mean, it may let some of those governments feel like they could get away with things that they couldn’t get away with before—” I try to argue.

“And were we the ones keeping them from that?” Seer questions. “One of CURSE’s core policies is deference to the sovereignty of nations. We do not get involved in the affairs of nations unless we are asked to. Our presence would not have kept the nations from pursuing their desires, whether fair or foul; but you are telling me that the arrival of the Valiant somehow recreates a permission structure that already existed during CURSE’s years of dominance? Think, Axiom. Give me answers of substance, not talking points that you are regurgitating from your weekly meetings with the administration. Why would we pursue this relentless vendetta against the Valiant? Have they ever attacked CURSE, beyond the standard defensive counterops to protect themselves? Why are we so hellbent on the destruction of the Valiant, and of Songbird in particular? Can you answer me these questions?”

I know I can’t, but I’m no fan of looking the fool, so I try to flip it on him. “What, and you can?”

“I can answer them for you, yes.” he states readily. “But that would defeat the point. You are a Peacekeeper; you must be able to answer these questions for yourself. You were not elevated to the position you are in simply so you could blindly follow orders; that is what we have the rank-and-file operatives for. You are not just another pawn, Axiom; on this chessboard, you are a rook. You should be mindful of where you’re being moved, and the pieces you’re being told to take.”

“If you know the answers, why don’t you just tell me?” I demand. “I’m a Peacekeeper, not a detective. And it’s gonna take a whole lot longer for me to figure this out on my own than it would if you would just tell me.”

“You would not believe me if I did. That is why you need to discover it on your own — it will be harder to disbelieve your own conclusions than it is to disbelieve someone else’s. Because you will know the work you have done to discover the truth, and the steps you have taken to get there.” Seer says, turning to the stairs again and starting down them. “It was good to meet you, Axiom — and I hope, for the sake of the callsign you bear, that you are as interested in the truth as a Gazer would be.”

He heads down the stairwell with that, leaving me alone on the observation deck again, and I fight the urge to grumble something about elves being snooty and cryptic. Turning back to the window, I fold my arms as I stare out into the silent void of tunnelspace, trying to put the conversation from my mind.

But try as I might, Seer’s questions keep coming back, nibbling away at my preconceptions. When CURSE first started going after Songbird and the Valiant, there hadn’t been anything to question — it all made sense. Songbird was the guy that killed Nova, and the resurgent Challengers were operating in defiance of the ban that had been levied on them; they were criminals and we were being sent to put a stop to their resurgency. Now here we were, more than a year down the line, and they hadn’t really done much outside recruit more people, get into one of the Bastions, run some counterops to keep us at arm’s length, and take on some charity cases here and there. Yet the administration was still pushing on, fixated on finding ways to stamp out the Valiant or at least curtail them, to the point of risking the lives of their elite operatives to acquire Sparks or Dragine artifacts. All in the name of defeating a presumed threat that… hadn’t really done much over the last eighteen months besides trying to staff up and get back on their feet.

It made me uncomfortable to think about it, but I was starting to wonder why we were putting so much effort into trying to destroy a group that hadn’t really done anything to us in the first place.

Intercepted Transmission

CURSE Conference Call

9:52pm SGT

SCION: I did my best to deflect the accusations and introduce a layer of plausible deniability into the conversation, but unfortunately, it seems that Kenterbain’s System Authority was able to assemble a compelling portfolio of evidence placing the Dandelion Drift in orbit around Tareya at the time of the explosion. Included were the flight paths and audio logs from the strike fighters dispatched to intercept the flyer that made an unauthorized descent to the surface.

Tenji: Just fantastic. So we can’t deny that they were there… no one was harmed in the explosion, were they? The report I saw said that it took place in the northern latitudes, far away from the habited zone around the equator.

SCION: To my knowledge, no one was injured expect those that may have been present at the site of the explosion, which I presume were the Drifters. Still, the complaint goes beyond that — even if none of their citizens were injured, it was still a violation of airspace and territory. They are upset, thinking that we used the uninhabited part of their world for some sort of weapons testing, or disposing of a dangerous object that one of our teams was unable to dispose of elsewhere.

T: Gods give me patience… you know what, let’s run with that. Tell them that one of our teams came off a mission with a dangerous artifact that needed to be disposed of, and it was time-sensitive. So they found the nearest uninhabited or lightly-habited world they could find, took it to an area without any people it in, and put it there so it could detonate safely without harming anyone. Apologize to the Confederacy about the fact that it had to be one of their worlds, but emphasize that the detonation was timelocked and we did the best we could to find an uninhabited area where it could explode safely.

SCION: Would you like me to inject elements of truth into the apology, or simply leave the explanation as an outright fabrication?

T: I don’t think there’s any truth for us to inject into this one. Just give them the cover story; if they pry for details, tell them that it’s classified and we can’t disclose more than we’ve already said.

SCION: Aside from assuring them that there are no detrimental effects or fallout from the explosion.

T: Yes, of course, that too. [pause] There weren’t any side effects or fallout from the explosion, right…?

SCION: Not from what I can tell from our preliminary intel. The explosion appears to have been a clean detonation; no radioactive waste or biochemical agents, at least from what I can tell.

T: Thank god. You had me worried for a moment there.

SCION: Shall I begin preparing other cover stories in the event that we have to answer for something else that the crew of the Drift has gotten up to?

T: I would rather be prepared. Put something together so we can have a ready response in case something like this happens again.

SCION: Understood. I’ll see to it. [line disconnects]

T: …alright, out with it, Nazka. You’ve been silently judging me from the background the entire call.

Nazka: I’ve already voiced my reservations about the decision to let the Drifters run loose, as has SCION. We both trust that you have taken our counsel into consideration and have made the decision that you made for a reason.

T: I’ll state again that I’m not doing it because I want to. But with the factors that are at play, this is what we have to do, for now.

N: I assume you’re still not in a position to disclose the rationale behind your decision?

T: You assume correctly. I’ll tell you that it has to do with Tirsigal, if that will drive home the importance of leaving the Drifters alone right now.

N: I will admit it has piqued my curiosity, particularly as I do not know whether you are assigning the blame for it to them, or operating on the belief that they are the solution to the issue.

T: Both, as odd as that might seem.

N: I have my doubts as to the latter, but I need not explain those to you, as I am sure you are already amply aware of them. I will simply say that you should keep the reputational health of the organization in mind as well. If the Drifters continue to create incidents like the one on Tareya, and CURSE has to keep covering for them, it will erode our already-diminished credence with other nations and security organizations. We run the risk of looking like we cannot control our dogs.

T: Trust me, I’m aware. With any luck, the matter will be settled soon.

N: I should hope so, for the benefit of us all.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

Svyash: somewhere in Murialis Konbektor

2/20/12765 11:22am SGT

“Goddamn, this place stinks to high hell.” Surge grunts as he comes down the ramp of the troop transport, wrinkling his nose. “I’d’ve rather have gone on an assignment to a world without atmosphere. Breathing recycled air is better than having to deal with this.”

“We’re in a marsh, what did you expect?” Whisper points out from where she’s sitting atop an equipment crate near the other troop transport. “Everything here that isn’t alive is rotting under two feet of stagnant water.”

“It’s a shame half the continent is like this.” Headache says as she checks her light power armor, making sure everything’s up to par. Her customized suit has amplifiers built into it to strengthen her psionic abilities and extend their range; while I don’t know the exact specs, I do know there’s a liquid neuranium solution circulating through a series of tubes in her suit. “People might’ve actually settled here if less of the planet was a peat bog. You can’t really build structures in areas like this, with the way the ground is.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” I say as I finish running the checks for my Axiom suit. Ever since I disembarked from the troop transport, I’d been paying attention to the clearance between the ground and the bottom of the transports. Maybe it was me, but the ground under the transports’ feet seemed to be sinking beneath the weight of multiple tons of metal. “Let’s pick up the pace. Bogs and marshes give me the creepies, and I don’t like this fog.”

“Agreed.” Whisper says, standing up and shouting to the squads that came with us. “Form up! It’s time to start moving out. Landing team, keep an eye on the perimeter. Fifteen-minute checkins. Keep an eye on the transports; I think the ground beneath them might be subsiding.”

As our two squads of operatives begin assembling, I turn and amble over to where Kwyn and Seer are standing on the edge of one of the standing pools of water, facing out into the hazy grey mist. I can hear them conversing as I draw nearer.

“I can sense it.” Kwyn says. She’s got her helm tucked under her arm, resting against her hip. “It’s faint, but it’s out there. It’s just like the other two we found.”

“That is encouraging. I would hate to have come here just to discover an empty reliquary.” Seer replies, though his attention seems to be fixed on the pools of stagnant water littering the near terrain. Judging by the way he tucks his white tunic a little closer around himself, it seems like he’s evaluating how to minimize his contact with the dirtier elements of this assignment. “And does this artifact call to you, like the first one did?”

“Not right now, no.” Kwyn says, lifting her helm and putting it on, wiggling it around until it clicks into place and seals. “So long as I don’t have to hold it, I don’t think it should be a problem.”

“I wasn’t aware you knew about the artifacts, Seer.” I say as I come to a stop behind the pair of them.

Seer doesn’t turn around. “As I told you yesterday, Axiom, it is difficult to hide things from a Gazer. Since you’re here, I assume we’re ready to move out, so let’s get underway.”

He begins moving towards the perimeter with that, tracking carefully over the spongy ground, and it’s not until he’s out of hearing range that Kwyn looks to me. “Has he done something to irritate you? You seemed a little testy with him.”

“Talked with him yesterday. Didn’t like the direction the conversation went in.” I say, keeping it short. “I’ll tell you about it later, once I have some more time to think about it. You ready to move out?”

“I suppose.” she says, looking back out into the ubiquitous grey haze, visibility limited to about a couple hundred feet. It seems to leech the color out of everything, though the dull green and brown peat underfoot isn’t helping matters. “I don’t like how quiet it is here. There’s nothing… no birds calling, no bugs buzzing, just nothing. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Now that you mention it…” I say, looking around at the pools scattered across the bog. “I haven’t seen anything moving in these pools. Even in a swamp, there’s usually bugs or frogs roaming around. I wonder if the wildlife is hiding.”

“Well, if it is, we aren’t gonna find out by standing around here.” Whisper says as she passes us, the two squads we have with us mobilizing behind her. “Let’s go. The faster we get this done, the sooner we can get out of here.”

Neither of us say anything to that, but we don’t need to; our agreement comes in the form of following her as she heads after Seer. Soon, the only sound is the squelch and rustle of peat underfoot, and the clacking and clicking of equipment as our group makes its way through the bog. The fog remains persistent, seeming to be uniform and grey in every direction we head in; the star in this system is an orange dwarf, which shows up a faint, hazy patch of orange light weakly glowing through the fog. Despite the fact that it’s day, it feels more like dawn or dusk; caught in some endless misty twilight where time stands still while we march through a shadowless land.

After about twenty minutes of trekking through the fog, a looming silhouette starts to take shape in the mist, resolving into the outline of a massive, lopsided dome. As we get closer to it, I see that it’s a large stone structure of some sort; it probably sat level at one point, but it’s sunken into the peat bog at an angle, the foundation on the other side tipped up out of the ground. The structure itself seems fairly simple; you can see the arches that make up the sides of the dome and provide the support, while carved stone slabs fill in the gaps between the arches, and that’s really all there is to it. Portions of the dome have collapsed or fallen in over time, likely due to the way it’s subsided into the bog, and a broken, overgrown stone path leads through the peat to what looks to an entrance at the dome’s base.

“That’s not ominous at all.” I mutter, staring at the abandoned dome. “Didn’t someone say earlier that this planet was uninhabited?”

“No nation has elected to claim and settle it, despite a habitable environment and a developed ecosphere.” Seer answers as he steps up onto the broken stone path, moving towards the entrance. “The planet has come up twice during ranked auction in the Colloquium, but it has been passed on both times, presumably because there were more profitable or desirable planets to be had. Archaeological surveys of the planet indicate that there are no traces of generational habitation on the planet, meaning that whoever assembled this structure came here specifically for that purpose, and then left.”

“That implies that whoever built this thing would’ve had to have been space-capable, though.” Headache points out as we start to filter onto the stone path in a long line. “And they chose to build it out of stone instead of space-age materials?”

“That would explain how they were able to build a stone structure all the way out in a peat bog.” Kwyn says, looking around. “You wouldn’t be able to quarry from rock around here; it would have to come from the mountainous part of the continent. The stone slabs that make up that structure weigh tons; it would’ve been easier to move them with a space-age vessel than it would be to do it with manual labor.”

“Yeah, but why would you put that thing in a bog?” Surge says. “Sounds like a stupid idea to me, and we can all see why. That thing must be ten or fifteen degrees off a level axis; I’m surprised the foundation hasn’t cracked.”

“The structure is thousands of years old. It’s possible that this region was once home to a different kind of terrain, and the structure may have been more logical during the time when it was built.” Seer says as he closes in on the lopsided entrance. “We may never know, though. The COS grant that was funding research at this site has lapsed, and the Confederacy has not reauthorized it, likely because the funding is being reallocated to military production and modernization. The loss of Mokasha, and now Tirsigal, has resulted in the funding for many programs being diverted to military preparation.”

“Would explain why I was picking up traces of people that had been here in the last year.” Whisper says as we arrive at the entrance. “Guessing it must’ve been the survey or archaeology crew.”

“Indeed. But they have not been here in months.” Seer says, placing a hand to the carved stone doors of the entrance. “Their dig must not have gotten far before the funding ran out. I do not see any indication that they were able to make ingress into the structure itself.”

“How are we supposed to get inside, then?” Surge says, hitching his hands on his hips as he looks up at the dome.

“There is a way inside; I’m fairly certain that the carvings on the doors hold the instructions for how to obtain entrance.” Seer says, his other hand coming out of his wide sleeves to glide over the damp stone. “Give me some time to decipher it.”

“Alright everybody, take a load off.” Whisper orders, turning and starting to point out specific operatives. “You and you, I want you watching our sides. You there at the back, post up at the path and keep an eye on it. Give the elf some space to work his magic. Seer, just let us know if you need a hand over there.”

“If I need help, I will ask for it.” he replies without turning around. As the three operatives move to take up their sentry positions, the others find places to lean or sit down while they wait. Headache and Surge sit down on the stone path next to each other, and I notice Kwyn pull out her phone, checking it, before stepping off the path a little ways and walking out to one of the nearby bog pools. After a moment, I lumber after her.

“Everything alright?” I ask as I arrive next to her, then take a step back when I realize how I’m sinking the closer I get to the bog pool.

She glances at me. “Mm? Yeah, it’s… fine. Just checking up on my friends back in my hometown. There was some sort of explosion on my homeworld; doesn’t look like anyone got hurt, but the blast was off the charts. The sort of thing you’d see from a meteor strike or a ballistic fusion bomb. Earthquake sensors picked it up all the way down at the south pole, even though it took place in the northern hemisphere.”

“Damn.” I remark. “Do they know where it came from?”

“They’re still investigating. Early reports are saying something about a big ship that came into orbit and sent an unauthorized flyer to the surface in the region where the explosion happened.” Kwyn says, tilting her phone towards me so I can see the news article, with a picture of a deep crater within a glacial sheet. “Tareya’s moonguard says they’re still investigating, but anonymous sources said the flyer went back to the ship after the explosion, and the ship left orbit before it could be detained by the system authority.”

“Huh. I didn’t know you grew up on a moonworld.” I remark. “One that was in orbit around a gas giant, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t really anything special. Icecap moon, small population. Most people either worked for the mining industry or for the military, or in the industries that supplemented those two.” Kwyn says, locking her phone and tucking it away. “I still miss it sometimes. It was beautiful, in the way that desolate, distant places are, and the view of the gas giant Kerala from the surface is something that you just can’t beat. But at the same time, I’m glad I got out of there. There’s not a lot of things you can do to make a living on Tareya, and none of them were things I wanted to do.”

“Understandable. You ever think about going back and visiting?” I ask.

“I think I’d be okay with visiting. Not sure I’d want to live there, though. Plus, I’ve found that I really like worlds that have a warmer average temperature.” she says, scuffing the toe of her boot against the peat. It seems like she’s about to say something more, but at that moment she suddenly snaps straight as a rod, her head jerking up. She reaches back for me, fumbling until she catches hold on my arm, and I move towards her.

“Kwyn? Are you okay?” I demand, placing an armored hand on her back.

She doesn’t respond, though she slumps after a moment, leaning heavily on the arm she grabbed. I can see her breathing hard though the glass of her helm, her eyes wide. “It knows we’re here.” she pants. “The artifact. It knows we’re here.”

“Wait, you mean the Dragine artifact?” I demand as she turns to me, her other hand coming around to grab my armor and using it to brace herself.

“Axiom, Little Wolf! What’s going on over there?” Headache calls, and I turn my head to see that she’s stood up, staring at us.

“I dunno.” I call back. “I think Kwyn heard something. Mentally.”

Headache steps off the broken path, striding over to us. Upon reaching us, she takes hold of Kwyn, lifting her head up so she can check her over. “I felt something shift in the air, like something within the temple was reaching out. Thought I imagined it, but you said you heard something, Little Wolf?” Headache asks.

“I saw it. Saw the artifact in the temple; I know where it is. But it told us to leave.” Kwyn breathes, running a hand over her helm. “It said that somebody else is coming to get it, and we won’t be able to defeat them. It wants to keep us out of harm’s way.”

“Mmm. Something definitely hit you.” Headache murmurs, tilting Kwyn’s helm a little. “I can sense it. There’s abnormal, lingering activity in some parts of your brain; lot of noise in your temporal and portions of your occipital. Something was lighting up your neurons like a Krysmis tree a moment ago.”

“Is she going to be okay?” I demand, trying not to come across too strong.

“She’ll be fine. Doesn’t look like any damage was done, from what I can tell.” Headache says, taking her hands off Kwyn’s helm. “Her brain just got kicked into overdrive for a little bit. What I’m concerned about is what it told her.”

“It means we need to move.” Whisper has appeared unbidden at my side, setting a hand on Kwyn’s shoulder. “Are you gonna be able to fight if there’s a scuffle, Kwyn?”

“I will. I think. It just took me off guard, is all.” Kwyn says, starting to let go of me and straighten up a little. “Felt like a cold hand grabbing the back of my neck, and the voice gave me the creepies. If it happens again, I won’t lock up like I just did.”

“Good. Let’s prepare to breach the structure. If something’s coming, we need to grab the artifact and get out of here before it arrives.” Whisper says, turning and heading back towards the sealed entrance, pointing at an operative as she goes. “You there. You’re demolitions? Give me one of your breaching packs, the one you use for bunker doors. And the detonator, while you’re at it.”

“If it reaches out to you again, let me know and I’ll do my best to shield you from it.” Headache says, letting go of Kwyn. “I can block most psiwaves; I would just need you to stay close to me while I’m doing so.”

“Just let me know if you need someone to lean on again.” I say, taking my hand off her back. Kwyn gives me a quick nod, and I turn to make my way back to the stone path, motioning for the other operatives to get up. “On your feet, people. Timetable’s moved up; we’re about to speedrun this.”

“Sorry, Seer, but we’re gonna have to move this along a bit.” Whisper says as she arrives at the stone doors, moving him to the side. “Seems like there’s something else headed this way, and it wants the artifact too.”

“I see.” Seer says, stepping aside as Whisper lifts the breaching pack and plants it against the doors, making sure it’s locked in place and armed. “What’s that? Some sort of lockpicking device?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” she says, grabbing his arm and starting to move him away from the doors as the other operatives gather at a safe distance. “C’mon. You’ll want to be with the others for this next part.”

She walks him back over to us before hitting the detonator, a loud bang shattering the stone doors into a pile of broken slabs and dusty debris. Seer’s mouth drops open. “Wha— you just destroyed part of an ancient historical site! There might’ve been valuable archaeological information that could’ve been gleaned from the carvings on those doors!”

“The galaxy will survive with one less set of fancy stone doors.” Whisper say, handing the detonator back to the demolition operative. “Besides, the rest of the structure is still intact. That should be enough for the nerds.” With that, she leads the way to the entrance, with Seer hurrying along behind her, likely to try to keep her from vandalizing any more cultural artifacts.

“Weapons hot.” I call to the rest of the operatives as they fall into line. “Stay on your toes; you know how it goes in ancient temples.”

Plasma rifles are powered on as we filter into the temple, Whisper waiting for Seer to give her the go-ahead once he’s done checking each section of hallway for traps. As expected, it’s dark inside, and most of the operatives turn on the headlights built into the chestplates of their light power armor. Because the entire structure is halfway sunken into the bog, the floor is at a noticeable slant that has everyone gravitating to the left side of the hall, with several using their free hand to balance themselves on the left wall. It isn’t long before we near the center of the structure, emerging out into a large room that has radial walkways stretching away from fixture in the center of the room that looks like it has a globe embedded in it.

“Well that wasn’t too bad.” Surge remarks as we fan out on the walkway rimming the edge of the room. “A grand total of, what? Zero traps?”

“Better to be safe than sorry.” Seer says, examining the room before us. As with the rest of the structure, the entire room is on a tilt; the left side of the room appears to be submerged in the black water that normally would’ve rested under the radial walkways leading to the platform at the center of the room. “Presumably the objective is in the center of the room. Give me a moment to assess the environment and see if there are any traps in here.”

“Don’t like the look of that water.” Headache says, turning towards it. The lights on her suit shine across its flat black surface, but don’t penetrate into the depths. “And I especially don’t like the fact that none of these walkways have any railings…”

“Can’t even tell how deep it is.” I say, sizing up the walkway rimming the room, and the ones that diverge from it to the platform in the center. “Let’s just assume for now that we want to avoid falling in the water at all costs. Fishing someone out of there is going to be a nightmare if it’s more than chest deep. And on that note, helms on. I don’t want any of you to drown because you didn’t have your helm on when you went into the water with partial power armor.”

Those operatives that have had their helms off start unhooking them from their beltlines, putting them on and locking them into place while we wait for Seer to conclude his survey of the room. It’s as the last of the operatives are calibrating their suits’ airflow that he turns to Whisper. “I am not seeing any traps in this room, though the globe in the center appears to be a puzzle. It is safe for us to approach the platform, though considering the slant of the room and the absence of railings on the walkways, we may want to limit it to just a few operatives approaching the platform.”

“Right. You, Headache, and Axiom, with me.” Whisper orders. “Surge, Little Wolf, you remain here in case something unexpected comes out of the puzzle. The rest of you, fan out around the edge of the room; I don’t want you all clustered in one place where you can be taken out in one go.”

She starts across the nearest walkway with that, and the rest of us start moving to follow her orders, either following her to the center of the room or fanning out around its edges. The trip over one of the bridging walkways isn’t too difficult, though it is a little unnerving, with the angle at which it’s slanting. But I make it over just fine, joining Seer, Headache, and Whisper at the carved stand in the center of the room. It comes up to about waist height for my suit, and the globe that’s inset into it appears to be broken up into panels and sections that look like they could be pushed and moved around — almost like a puzzle cube, but spherical instead. Symbols have been carved into the surface of each section, likely letters or glyphs in some alphabet that I don’t recognize.

“You guys are thinking what I’m thinking, right?” Whisper says, planting her hands on the edges of the stand and leaning on them as she studies the globe.

“It’s a puzzle cube.” Headache says, folds her arms. “I hate puzzle cubes. I had two of them when I was kid and I was never able to solve either one.”

“I’m guessing some of these sections need to be moved in a way that aligns these carvings with each other in a specific arrangement.” I say, leaning down to examine the panels of the globe. “Problem is, I don’t recognize these symbols, or know what any of them mean or what arrangement we need to get them into. Do you guys recognize them?”

“I cannot say, unfortunately.” Seer murmurs, gently grazing his fingers over the carvings on the globe. “I want to say that these appear similar to Viralix letters, which were inspired by the written language of the Dragine. But I am not a linguist, so I cannot claim the origin of these glyphs with certainty… though the stonework here is remarkable. The edges are not rough; the insets of each of these carvings are crisp and smooth… these were precision cuts, with laser-like accuracy. I don’t believe these were carved by hand; this looks more like machined inscription to me.”

“That’s cool and all, but we’re not here for a course on masonry.” Whisper says, placing her hands on the globe and starting to rotate one of the intersecting rings of stone. “We’re here for the artifact; something else is coming to get it; we need to get it and get out of here before it arrives. We don’t have all day to sit here and stare at it, so if you could crank up the clairvoyance and give us some answers, Seer, that would be appreciated.”

“That is not exactly what I do.” Seer says tersely, folding his hands back into the wide sleeves of his tunic. “My service to Gryffin allows me to see the recent past; it allows me to see things that are hidden. What it does not allow me to do is provide cheat codes to a puzzle that is in plain sight for everyone to see.”

“Well, if we can’t figure it out here, you think we could, like, take it back to the HQ?” Headache suggests, looking around and sizing up the platform we’re on. “Our people in the arcanology or intelligence departments could probably figure it out if we cut away the platform and brought it back to the station…”

“We can’t do that. We’d be defacing an archeological site that doesn’t belong to us, likely doing permanent damage to it. It would essentially be looting.”

“I mean, technically it doesn’t belong to anyone. None of the nations have tried to snatch up this planet during ranked auction, so it’s essentially unclaimed territory…”

As the arguing continues, I glance around, checking on the rest of our group. The standard operatives have fanned out around the unsubmerged edge of the room, while Surge and Kwyn are still at the foot of the walkway we took to get here. Surge looks like he’s intently listening to something within his helm, eventually turning to us and calling our way.

“Axiom! Whisper! We need to pick up the pace; the Justice is picking up an energy spike in high orbit and it looks like it’s exactly over our coordinates!” he says, looking around as if trying to figure out what part of the room would offer the best cover from above. “They don’t know what it is; initial scans are coming back garbled and the object is at least partially cloaked. Justice is moving to intercept, but it’ll be a couple minutes before they’re within effective weapons range.”

“Energy spike?” Whisper says, taking her hands off the globe. “Stealthed object… do they have any other readings? Any other information—”

A boom cuts her off, all of us flinching as the structure rattles, like something had slammed into it. Looking up to the partially caved roof, I see that cracks are starting to run through the intact slabs, with pulsating light and heat shining through them. “Everybody to the walls! Get away from that side of the chamber!” I shout, turning and grabbing Seer. Sprinting to the edge of the platform, my jet thrusters kick on, vaunting me over the black water to the walkway rimming the room.

The operatives scramble out of the way for me, making room as I land and set the elf down; turning around, I see Headache and Whisper pelting back over one of the bridging walkways, just as the dome caves in. A large piece falls through, crushing some of the walkways on the submerged side, with smaller chunks falling into the room around the edges of the new hole on the dome. Blazing through that hole is a thick column of white-blue light that’s almost blinding to look at, and only becomes easier to handle when it starts to ease up, the beam attenuating and becoming thinner. As it narrows, a group of outlines in black jackets and uniforms are revealed, standing on the slab of roof that just fell into the room. Their jackets look like they’re military-grade, with integrated combat plating, and the shoulders are emblazoned with a fiery orange V that can only mean one thing. Some of the brighter hair colors get my attention — especially that dreaded, tropical blue.

“Shit.” Whisper hisses. “They got the DIRT network back online!”

Songbird glances at the platform in the center of the room, then back to us. “You could walk away.” he suggests as the Valiant agents around him start to fan out on their chunk of the fallen roof, taking stock of their surroundings.

I reach back, grabbing my battleaxe off the back of my suit as my helm deploys and seals over my face. “Over my dead body.” I growl through the speakers in my power armor.

Songbird brushes back his jacket, snagging one of his hilts off his belt and igniting it. The glassy blade refracts the light coming off the headlights of our power armor, painting the walls in swirling, spectral hues. “I’d rather not, but if that’s the way you want to do things, I guess we don’t have much of a choice.” he replies, lunging off the chunk of roof and towards the platform at the center of the room. “Agents, engage!”

“Weapons free, secure the platform!” Whisper shouts, just before her cloaking activates and she shimmers out of view.

My thrusters kick on as I leap back over the moat, aiming to intercept Songbird before he reaches the globe, but something else launches off the scorched section of roof, rocketing towards me way faster than I was expecting. I hear something howling the words “Jetfiiiiiiire JUSTIIIIIIIIIICE!” right before a metal fist hammers into the front of my suit, plowing me right back into the side of the room hard enough to leave cracks in the wall.

“Son of a bitch.” I grunt as what looks like a towering wolf Halfie in silver power armor slams to the walkway in front of me, and then… strikes a pose.

“Stand down, criminal! For justice has arrived!” he declares, clenching a fist and pointing the other hand at me. “If you give up now, then…” He pauses, and then his helm’s visor retracts so he can squint at me. “Oh hey! You’re Axiom. They didn’t tell me you would be here. I’ve heard about you; I’m a big fan, actually! Can I get your autograph after this?”

I’d been about to lunge to my feet and take a swing at him, but after hearing that, all I can do is stare at him in utter bewilderment.

I’m saved from having to reply by a plasma bolt hitting him in the side and causing him to stagger a little; despite how slimmed-down his power armor is, it doesn’t seem to have any trouble shrugging off the damage. “Oh, whoops! Right, fighting and all that.” he apologizes, his visor sliding back into place. “I’ll hit you up after this, and we can see about that autograph. Now, if you’ll excuse me — HAVE AT THEE, KNAVE!”

The thrusters on his suit blaze as he launches himself towards the operative that took a shot at him, leaving me alone on the walkway. Seeing Kwyn reach the platform spurs me back into action; I shove to my feet once more, making another leap over the moat surrounding the platform. I land on the edge just as the green-haired Mask Knight slams one of Kwyn’s spirit wolves with her warhammer, sending it flying in my direction; I hastily get my free arm up to catch it, the thrusters on my back firing to keep it from knocking me back into the water. Setting it down, I twist the handle on battleaxe as I skid towards Kwyn; my antigrav hammer comes on, and swing it over Kwyn’s head, catching the Mask Knight as she’s coming down for an overhead hammer slam. She’s flung back towards the edge of the room, but there’s a flash of blue light that ricochets around behind her, catches her before she hits the wall, then zips back down to the walkway, depositing her there. It’s at that point that it finally slows down enough for me to see that it’s Songbird — and his pupils are blazing a lightning blue.

His Spark’s active.

An orange haze immediately seeps in around the edges of my vision, almost like it was triggered on reflex, and I feel the sudden awareness of dozens, hundreds of people paying attention to me and this moment. As Songbird’s girlfriend starts getting back up, he bolts along one of the bridges leading to the platform, dragging the tip of his sword through the water; the clamor in my head suddenly spikes, filling me with an overriding impulse. Taking my battleaxe, I slam the end into the ground while pumping a surge of energy into the antigravity module; a field of repulsive force forms and expands, shoving Songbird back and at the same time pushing Kwyn out of the way, and further from danger.

But that doesn’t stop him; he looks up as he steadies himself on the walkway, and I hear a loud crack from above. The voices of the Spark tell me not to bother with looking up, and to dive to the side instead; I do precisely that, scraping out of the way as a chunk of ceiling comes down where I was originally standing. And I don’t even get a second’s reprieve, because I’m instantly struck with a pressing need to get my axe up in the blocking position; I do, and catch both Songbird’s boots and blades against the haft of my axe as he comes down on me.

“I see you.” he grins from his perch on the haft of my axe, those lightning-blue pupils drilling into me. I realize, with dread, that he can sense that my Spark is active, even if he can’t see my eyes behind my helm.

I shove my axe up as the same time that the thrusters on my back fire, aiming to launch him air and cleave him in half as the plasma blades on my axe come online. He seems to sense it coming though, because he kicks off my axe haft as I’m shoving it upwards, backflipping into the air and landing on the globe at the center of the platform. “So you’re the Spark that CURSE acquired.” he says as he crouches there, ignoring the chaos of agents and operatives fighting all around us. “I’ve never fought another Spark before.”

I’m quick to my feet, getting my axe up into ready position. “And if you don’t back off, I’m going to be the last Spark you ever fight.” I retort, even though it’s a bluff. In my head, I’m desperately calling out to the other voices of my Spark. Alright, guys, I need something here. How am I supposed to beat another Spark?

Sparks were not intended to fight each other. I hear Rotenga reply in my head.

Just gotta be faster better stronger smarter than the other guy. Gazelle adds, rather unhelpfully.

Isn’t that what I have you guys around for? I mentally retort.

Yeah, but he’s got just as many people in his head, helping him out. Gazelle points out. Possibly more.

I’m not so sure about that. Rotenga cautions. Those of us that were psions, we cannot hear anything from him. Usually active Sparks give off white noise at a distance, hundreds of voices speaking all at once, but all we sense is the single connection he has with the Mask Knight. Other than that, his mind is his own.

Whu— well what’s that supposed to mean?! I shoot back, growing more confused by the millisecond.

I mean, if you ask me, it means he’s head-empty. Nothing but girlfriend in that hollow headcase of his. Gazelle offers, continuing her unhelpful streak.

“Trust me, I’d rather not be fighting you.” Songbird says, suddenly jerking one of his blades up to deflect a plasma bolt aimed at him. It’s made all the more unnerving by the fact that he doesn’t flinch, or take his gaze off me, while doing so. “We know what you’re here for; we can’t let you have it. I’d like to resolve this without violence, so if you and your people will retreat, we’ll let you leave without further conflict.”

Your cloaked friend is trying to sneak up behind him. Rotenga warns me. Stop her; it will not end well.

My attention flicks to the area behind Songbird; whether because of my Spark, or for some other reason, I can see Whisper’s cloaked outline as she moves up the platform towards him, staying low and drawing her blade. He doesn’t seem to be aware that she’s there. “We didn’t come all this way just to give up and walk away because you told us to.” I say, starting to pace back and forth in a bid to keep his attention on me. A moving target, rather than a stationary one.

“Of course not. Nobody comes all this far just to walk away emptyhanded.” he says, turning off one of his starglass blades and hooking the hilt back on his belt. “I’m not saying that you’ll like it, Axiom. I’m saying that you and your people will walk away alive. That’s important to me. I know it’s important to you.”

“In that case, you should probably take your own advice and give up while you’ve got the chance.” I shoot back, spinning my axe as I continue to pace, measuring the distance to the globe and how long it would take me to close it.

“Oh, for crying out loud — just beat his face in already, Songbird!” the green-haired Mask Knight shouts from across the room as she kicks one of the CURSE operatives into the black water. “We’re here to kick ass and take names, not make friends!”

“Hey, it worked with Blockchain!” he calls back to her.

“Shut up! The power of friendship is not a valid combat tactic!”

Darrow, you need to stop Whisper. He knows she is there. Rotenga repeats his warning, more urgently now.

Can’t you see him? He’s busy arguing with his girlfriend! I almost say the words out loud, barely managing to keep them in my head. Whisper has made it onto the table with the globe, her blade out and gearing up for a swing at Songbird’s neck, when he suddenly twists his foot and kicks his leg out behind him, catching Whisper right in her invisible ankles. It takes her clean off her feet, landing her flat on the globe; I’ve started to sprint forward, but Songbird’s already grabbed the back of her cloaking jacket, and with a single mighty heave, slings her right at me. I end up having to drop my axe so I can catch her, stumbling back a couple steps before steadying myself and setting her down.

“Goddammit!” she seethes, coming back into view as she deactivates her cloak. “What’s the point of a cloak if you can see right through it?”

“Your mistake was coming after me while my Spark was active. I wouldn’t recommend trying that.” Songbird says, straightening up. “If you all aren’t going to stand down, then we’re gonna have to do this the hard way.”

“It was never gonna be any other way.” I say, taking my axe as Whisper hands it to me. Songbird starts to lift his blade, but the loud roaring of thrusters passing overhead has him looking upwards, just the same as we are. Through the holes in the dome, I can see the underside of a large, black vessel passing by, dangerously low to the dome, and a moment later, something billowing and black drops through one of the holes in the roof. Another one soon joins it, and then another, and another; from what I can see, they look like humanoid figures in black cloaks and armor.

Then there’s a loud thud as something slams into the dome, and yet another chunk of it collapses into the room, this one almost right above the platform. Whisper and I scramble to get out of the way, and Songbird rolls off the globe and to the other side of the stone table, trying to get away from the smaller chunks of roof that come crumbling down. As the dust starts to settle, something starts to rise out of it — and just keeps rising, and rising, until there’s an absolute beast of a man before us, standing eight or nine feet tall and built like a cinderblock wall, with a mane of grey hair and a dense, bushy beard. My heart drops in my chest when I recognize him — this is the guy that clobbered me and Ironfist when we tried to retrieve the Shyl-tari relic last year.

“Kiwi, he’s back!” Songbird shouts from the other side of the platform, and I notice that his pupils are no longer glowing. I realize, with alarm, that the same is true for me — there’s no more orange haze around the edges of my vision, and I’m feeling the beginnings of a headache starting to creep in.

“Yeah, I noticed!” Kiwi shouts as she ducks under a stone lantern on a chain that’s being swung at her by one of the cloaked warriors. “I’ll get over there as soon as I deal with his yoyo guards!”

The sound of stone slamming into metal draws my attention, and I see one of our operatives taking a stone lantern to the ribs, being thrown halfway across the room by the blow. The Valiant agents look like they’re being targeted as well; one dodges on of the lanterns, but when it slams onto the walkway next to them, it lets out an explosion of green fire that blasts them off the walkway and into the black water. Shoving to my feet again, I turn to Whisper. “Cloak and take care of the lanterns. I’ll do my best to hold the big guy back while you guys clean up the small fry.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.” she says before disappearing in a ripple of hexagonal panels. I turn back to the hulking mountain of a man, and find that Songbird’s already confronting him — and the mountain man has got one of the Valiant agents by the throat, holding him in the air.

“Alright, Makalu, take it slow.” Songbird says, holding his blade horizontal as he eases towards the towering man. “Not really sporting to kill a kid that barely knows how to fight, is it?”

Makalu doesn’t move as the agent kicks and twists in his grip; the agent does look young, barely out of his teens, and it looks like he’s slowly being strangled. “Your concerns about the youth are touching. Perhaps they would carry more weight if you refrained from bringing them onto the battlefield in the first place.” Makalu rumbles.

“What can I say, you can’t coddle them forever.” Songbird says as he finishes tucking something into his ear with his free hand, his eyes flitting to me. And strangely enough, I sense a request there, an unspoken ask for help.

It’s not a request I ever thought I’d find myself agreeing to, but I find myself moving towards Makalu, tightening my grip on my battleaxe.

Makalu senses my movement and pivots in my direction slightly, swinging the agent around to hold him between the two of us as a barrier. “Do not think I have forgotten you, Peacekeeper. I am sure you remember your last exercise in humiliation, and if you do not, I will gladly provide an encore to freshen your memory.”

I come up short; while the Valiant are our enemies, harming one that’s being used as a human shield is a level I’m not willing to stoop to. “I wasn’t ready the first time around. This time, I know what to expect.” I reply through the speakers of my suit.

If Makalu was going to make a reply, it’s interrupted by the struggling agent throwing something at Songbird, who reaches up to catch it. It looks like a chunk of blue crystal, and a second later, there’s the thump of air rushing in to fill a vacuum, paired with the whump of air being displaced. The agent in Makalu’s grip seems to fold into a ripple into the air, with another ripple forming near Songbird, the agent falling out of it. Songbird catches him, keeping his blade up and held slantwise in Makalu’s direction.

“You okay?” Songbird demands as the agent coughs and gasps for air. “Good? Good. Next time I give you an order, you listen to me. Chain of command. We had this talk already, Ridge.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Bit off more than I could chew. Lesson learned.” Ridge wheezes.

“Good. Now I’m ordering you to get your ass over there and help Kiwi. I will handle this. You go handle something that’s closer to your weight class.” Songbird says, slapping his back and shoving him in Kiwi’s direction, where she’s still fighting one of the cloaked lanternbearers.

“I would not have been so lenient. You plant the seeds of insubordination when you fail to punish a lack of discipline.” Makalu says, letting his arm drop, though rings of magma-orange runes glow to life around his wrists, shoulders, chest, and back.

“Maybe. But teaching a lesson doesn’t do much good if the student doesn’t survive the lesson.” Songbird claps back, quick and pithy, then glances at me. “You know this guy?”

I’m hesitant on answering, but decide it couldn’t hurt at this point. “Yeah. He handed my ass to me about four or five months ago. You know him?”

Songbird snorts, slowly moving to position himself on Makalu’s other side so we can pincer him in the middle. “Join the club. He beat me senseless about three months ago. I made him work for it, though.”

“One would hope that both of you had learned from your respective experiences, and yet here we are, about to repeat the history.” Makalu says as the runes around his wrists start to expand into each other, forming gauntlets of orange light around his already massive hands and forearms. “I think I will enjoy this. I cannot say the same for either of you, however.”

Songbird’s eyes flick to me, and I make my move before I have a chance to second-guess it, charging Makalu and winding up for a slash as I go. Songbird does the same on the other side, and Makalu brings up his gauntlets, catching my axeblade on one and Songbird’s sword on the other. Shoving Songbird back, he swings on me, using one gauntlet to push my axe off to the side while slinging his other fist at me. I can’t get my axe back around in time to block, and the punch nails me hard enough to feel it through my power armor, sending me staggering. My directional thrusters kick on, keeping me from falling off the edge of the platform, but Makalu’s other hand comes back around, grabbing me by the shoulder and head and bodily slinging me towards the stone table. I hit it hard enough to chip and crack the edges, with warnings flashing across the interior of my visor and showing me where my external plates are getting dented and bent out of shape. It’s as I’m getting back to my feet that Songbird slams into the table beside me, the blue shield around him popping and fizzling as it eats most of the impact.

“Goddamn, he is strong.” Songbird grunts, hooking an elbow on the table behind him and using it to lever himself back up.

“You’re telling me— shit!” I grumble in agreement, then shove Songbird to the side before diving in the opposite direction. It gets us out of the way just in time to avoid Makalu’s charging gauntlet, which slams into the table hard enough to shatter it and sent chunks of stone flying everywhere. I fumble to bring my axe up and over in an overhead chop, aiming to take off Makalu’s exposed arm, but he jerks his arm up in time to block it, sparks flying everywhere as the plasma blade grinds against his hardlight gauntlet. Twisting the handle of my axe, I activate the antigrav hammer and shift my grip to sling the tail end of the axe at him, but his other hand comes down to block it, the antigrav hammer stopping six inches from his gauntlet as he holds it at bay with raw strength.

But he’s left his back exposed to Songbird, and it shows in how he suddenly folds to one knee with a pained grunt. I see the blood running down one of his legs; Songbird must’ve scored a hit there, and it gives me hope that this is winnable. Pulling my axe away, I start to gear up for a wide, cleaving swing — but the moment I let the pressure off, Makalu reaches behind himself, grabs Songbird with a gauntleted hand, and hurls him at me while I’m midway through my windup. Getting hit with a whole-ass person sends me staggering back, throwing my swing off, and the moment Songbird falls to the ground, Makalu is right up on me, nailing me with another heavy punch that throws me flat on my back, sparks flying from my power armor as I go sliding across the slanted platform.

“If we could get a little help over here with the big guy, that’d be appreciated!” I shout into the squad comms as I roll out of the way of Makalu’s boot, which cracks the ground as it slams down on the spot where I was. I start to scramble back to my hands and knees, but that same boot twists and swings right into my midsection, punting me clear across the platform to slam into the stone table again, armor and all.

Rolling back to my hands and knees, I clear the warnings on my visor, catch my breath and look up to see that Songbird’s facing down Makalu. His arms are raised, hands planted on one of Makalu’s gauntlets as the giant Maskling slowly forces him down; arcs of blue energy flicker from Songbird’s chest and dance along his arms, but it’s still not enough. His legs fold, and he goes down to one knee with a shout; grabbing my axe, I get back to my feet, but Makalu raises his free hand, pointing his fist at me. The gauntlet on it ejects and launches at me like a rocket, hammering into my chest and exploding before I can get my axe haft up to block it; I’m slammed back into the stone table again, and this time it shatters around me, leaving me embedded in the broken rim. The HUD within my helm flickers as it registers the breach of a power relay in the back of my suit, and the words Reroute in progress flash across my visor before the HUD cuts out. Everything becomes heavy as my suit goes into low-power mode, all the gears and actuators locking up as the movement assist goes offline.

I can barely move, leaving me with no option but to watch as Makalu continues forcing Songbird to the ground. “Is this all?” the hulking Maskling demands as he continues shoving his gauntlet down like a hydraulic press, slowly but steadily folding Songbird beneath it. “Is this that man that killed Nova? That earned the fear of a galaxy? Surely there was something more than this.”

“I didn’t…” The way the words are being grinded out, I can tell Songbird’s growling them between gritted teeth. “…kill… NOVA!”

A wave of blue light pulses through his body as he shoves back to his feet, forcing Makalu’s gauntlet back up. In a single motion, he throws the gauntlet off to one side and winds up an uppercut that slams into Makalu’s abdomen; Songbird’s fist is tiny in comparison to the giant, but throws off a shockwave of blue energy when it makes contact, staggering Makalu back a few paces.

“That is more like it.” Makalu grunts as he steadies himself, then tilts back towards Songbird. “But it still falls short of your full potential.”

Songbird blocks the incoming punch as best he can, but it’s still useless. It sends him flying back, slamming into table beside me and slumping to the ground. I try to move again, but my suit is still working on a safe reroute, and it barely responds to my movements. Makalu’s boots crunch over the debris-strewn platform as he walks over to us; he nudges my suit to the side with a brush of his hand, sending me toppling to the ground, and when I try to get back up, he picks up a fallen chunk of the roof and places it on me, at least a couple hundred pounds of stone pinning me down. I grit my teeth at the pressure; while the suit can handle it, I won’t be getting this piece of stone off me until my suit’s power comes back.

“Having fought both of you before, I had hoped for something that would challenge me.” Makalu says, brushing Songbird off the table and laying a fallen chunk of the roof on him as well, though Songbird’s chunk looks like it’s only a hundred pounds or so. “Perhaps I expected too much. You are but children, and it has only been a few months. It was unfair of me to think you would have grown so much in such a short period of time.”

“You’re unbelievable.” I grunt through my speakers, which are thankfully still functional in low-power mode. “That has got to be the most backhanded apology I’ve ever heard.”

“You wanna see what I’m really capable of, let’s take this somewhere I don’t have to worry about collateral damage.” Songbird coughs from beneath the slab on his chest.

“I do not fault you for your shortcomings.” Makalu says, the words seemingly directed at me as he examines the globe in the center of the ruined table. “You’re merely a human in a suit of power armor; if anything, it shows you have courage when you choose to take the field with the likes of these. This one, on the other hand…” He glances at Songbird. “You expect me to commend you for showing restraint? All I see is a man consumed by the fear of his own power.”

Something about that gets Songbird to stop struggling; he instead looks around, and I do the same. I realize that while we were occupied with Makalu, his lantern guards have wreaked havoc on our respective groups. Weakened by fighting with each other, Makalu’s forces have made short work of the Valiant and CURSE alike; our people lie in various states of defeat, most of them prone or too injured to keep fighting.

“You’re not gonna get out of here.” I grunt as Makalu runs his fingers along the carved sections of the globe. “There’s a CURSE vessel in orbit; we can and will hunt you down when you try to leave this world.”

“The Justice, yes. An interdiction cruiser with an impressive array of abilities. I am curious to see how it will hold up against a dreadnought.” Makalu says, starting to turn some of the intersecting rings on the globe.

“CURSE will be sending reinforcements down.” Songbird pants at him. “You won’t have enough time to solve that puzzle and retrieve the artifact.”

Makalu glances at him, then curls the fingers of the remaining gauntlet into a fist, a glow building within the hardlight before he punches down at the globe. It shatters and caves in, and after a few seconds of rooting around, he pulls his hand back out, holding that familiar black sphere.

“You just had to say something.” I growl at Songbird.

“Well excuse me for thinking he was going to use his brains instead of his brawn.” Songbird spits back at me.

“Intelligence is not the abstention of force. It is knowing when and where to apply it to achieve the result you are seeking.” Makalu says, brushing the dust and debris away from the artifact as he holds it up to examine it. “Bitter though this defeat may be, I encourage you to lay your fears to rest. In a short time, you see that this was for the best; a long-held dream, cherished by many, will soon become a reality.”

“I didn’t hear no bell ring.” I grunt through gritted teeth, slowly bending the arm of my suit to get a hand on the slab of stone atop my chest. I think I’ll be able to get it off me once my suit’s power flow is fixed, but I’m not sure how long that’s going to take, or if my suit’s limited intelligence can handle that on its own.

“Courage means little without the means to act on it.” Makalu says, tucking the artifact into his bandolier. “You put up a good fight, but this battle is over.”

“I’m not the one you have to worry about.” I puff as Kwyn’s spirit wolf looms up behind Makalu.

He seems to sense something is off, and turns about as Kwyn’s wolf dives at him. The impact drives him back against the table as it gnashes its teeth, trying to get its jaws around him; his hands catch on the teeth, holding the mouth open and keeping it from closing on him. Chips of the table go flying at the wolf continues biting and snapping, but Makalu, through raw strength, keeps it from chomping him in half, and regains his footing. Letting go of its upper jaw, he allows it to clamp down on his lower arm, drawing blood, but curls his other hand into a fist. Tangerine light fills the grooves of his gauntlet, as he brings it up and slams it down on the muzzle of the spirit wolf.

A blast is released with strike, a nova of molten orange light that disperses through the room. Kwyn’s spirit wolf disintegrates, the gauzy outline burning away like paper that’s caught fire, running from the muzzle all the way down to the tail. Kwyn herself collapses to her knees on the edge of the room, clutching her chestplate with one arm as she gasps for breath, and Makalu flexes his bitten arm, examining the bloody wounds left by the wolf’s jaws. “Now that’s more like it.” he says, tearing off his shirt and wrapping it around his injured arm. “Stepping it up a notch. I appreciate that. I will remember you, spirit mage, and look forward to the next time we meet in battle. I hope you’ll be able to show me how much you’ve grown since today.”

He makes a flicking motion, and one of the lantern guards makes their way over to Kwyn, punching her down until she stops moving. Seething, I manage to get my other hand on the slab on top of me, but even as much as I’m straining myself, there’s no way I’ll be able to shift this thing without my suit’s strength assist. Noticing my struggling, Makalu finishes tying off his bandage, coming over to me and kneeling beside me, planting his hand on the slab as he does so.

“We are men of duty, Axiom. You fight to preserve the order that is, while I strive to build the foundations of a new order.” Makalu says, his molten gaze drilling down into me. “I do not fault you for your duty, even though it pits you against me. Instead, I will ask you to see my work firsthand. Come to the Losinadae Ring; see the seeds I have planted, and witness the fruits they bear. Then decide for yourself whether you will guard the old order, or help raise up the new one.”

With that, he pushes on the slab on my chest, using it to lever himself up, and grinding my suit beneath it as he does so. I clench my teeth as I feel the pressure, even through my suit, but it soon lets up as he stands, turns, and walks over to Songbird to kneel by him, the way he did with me. It’s faint, but I can hear him addressing Songbird.

“Though I have denounced your restraint, I must also thank you for it. Your mercy has allowed the survival of one of my tools, and he will soon fulfill his part in my plan. I invite you to the Losinadae Ring as well, so that you may see its completion — and then afterwards, I give you my blessing to stand in judgement over him, as he has stood in judgement over you.”

Songbird’s teeth are gritted, likely from the pressure of the hand that Makalu is resting on the stone slab on his chest. “If I’ve helped you, it hasn’t been on purpose. And if the Valiant come to the Losinadae Ring, you know we’re going to stop you, so why would you offer that?”

“I am a man of integrity. Even if you were not aware of it, you have aided me, and in return, I offer you to come see what you have helped bring to pass… and to pass judgement upon those that cast you out and called you a heretic. So turns the wheel, that every man may reap what he has sown.” Pressing his hand down on the slab, he stands back up again, with Songbird growling under the strain of the slab sandwiching him to the ground. “And besides, the Valiant are part of the new order — it is only right that I invite you and your people to witness the moment the old order begins to crumble.”

With that, he begins walking away, waving a hand to round up his forces. The cloaked lantern guards around the room follow his lead, stepping over unconscious agents and operatives as he makes his way to the entry hall. They file out in short order, and it’s not long before we hear the roaring of a troop transport taking off, heading back into the stratosphere.

As that sound fades, all that fills the silence is labored breathing from those that are still conscious, and groaning from those trying to triage their injuries. I try to give the slab on my chest another push, and beside me, the air ripples as Whisper shimmers into view, planting her hands on the stone. “Are you okay?” she asks, setting her shoulder to the slab and grunting as she tries to shove it off.

“Power relay in the spine of my suit got busted. Functionality is… well, it’s basically nonexistent right now.” I breathe, trying to help her shift the slab. “Suit took most of the beating. I’m okay, but it’s probably gonna take a while to repair the suit.”

“Have you fought him before? He was talking to you like he’d met you.” Whisper puffs, taking a break to size up the slab and the best way to get it off me.

“Yeah. Last year, when I was on an assignment with Ironfist. He beat our asses back then too.” I grumble, then turn my head when I hear stone grinding over the platform. Across from us, the green-haired Mask Knight has used some kind of magic to shove the smaller slab off Songbird, and started helping him sit up.

Whisper starts to draw her sword, and the Mask Knight notices and raises one of her hands towards us, green runes orbiting her wrist. But Songbird reaches up and grabs her arm, pulling it down. “Kiwi. Leave it.” he pants.

“She’s the one pulling a sword on us!” Kiwi protests.

“There’s nothing left to fight over. The artifact’s gone and I’m not gonna put the rest of our people in danger by starting a battle we can barely fight.” Songbird says, struggling back to his feet and holding his ribs with one arm. “If we help get that slab off him, will you let us leave without any trouble?”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from the people that ambushed us by dropping a DIRT deployment on our heads!” Whisper snaps at him. “You’re lucky no one got hurt when you arrived by caving in the roof!”

“We don’t need to help them.” Kiwi snarls back at her. “Let them struggle with it. It’ll buy us more time to get back to the shuttle and get back to the Prominence.”

“Whisper. Stand down.” I interject before it can go further. “I don’t like agreeing with him, but he’s right. The artifact’s gone; there’s nothing left for us to fight over. We should start gathering our people and taking care of the ones that need help. And I’d rather not be stuck under this rock for the next twenty minutes.”

“We’ve got a fresh team guarding the transports; if we can call them here, we can put an end to this.” Whisper snaps at me. “The administration’s been riding us to finish this for over a year, and you just want to let them go?”

I look from Whisper to Songbird and Kiwi. “Does it look like they’re going to go down without a fight, Whisper?”

Whisper glances back at the pair. Kiwi’s glaring at us, and Songbird is braced on his knees, battered and tired — but the scrapes on his face are slowly healing. It won’t be long before he’s regenerated most of the damage he took during the fight, as vampires do when they’ve got blood to burn.

After a moment, Whisper shoves her sword back into its sheath. “Fine. But if Tenji asks, I’m telling her it was your idea.” she mutters, standing up and stepping back, motioning to the slab of stone. “Get it off of him.”

I can see Kiwi’s jaw tightening; when she doesn’t move, Songbird glances at her, and I expect him to order her to it. But he doesn’t, and just leaves her side, coming over and setting his shoulder to the slab on my chest. “I’ll push from this corner if you can get that one.” he says to Whisper.

Whisper’s fingers curl into fists, but after a moment, she gets down and sets her shoulder to the other corner, both of them straining against the slab. There’s a painful screeching of stone over metal as it slowly starts to shift; about five seconds in, Kiwi suddenly moves towards us. “Move. It’ll take forever doing it that way.” she orders, her rune circles starting to charge up. Whisper and Songbird step back, and Kiwi sets both hands against the side of the slab. After a moment, the air distorts as twin ripples blast away from her rune circles, flipping the entire slab off me. It lands with a heavy thud beside me, and I draw a deep breath.

“Thank you.” Songbird says to Kiwi as she stands up.

“I’m going to go grab Ridge and Renchiko.” she mutters, stalking past him.

Songbird waits until she’s walked back around the other side of the platform, then looks to us. “We’ll be taking our people and leaving now.”

“We’ll let you leave. But you know that we’re going to be chasing you, right?” I say. “Whatever world you’re going to after this, we’ll be following you there.”

“Figure CURSE administration doesn’t really give you much of an choice in the matter.” Songbird says. “Not sure you’ll be able to keep up with us. If you are, we’ll be seeing you soon. If not, we’ll see you in Losinadae.”

He turns and starts limping away with that, headed in the direction that Kiwi went. Whisper moves back over to me, fumbling around the back of the neck of my suit until she finds the emergency release; after twisting it, flipping it over, and pushing it back in, my power armor suddenly starts moving, the external plates pulling back, followed by the secondary layer of gears and actuators, and finally the pilot cavity. As soon as it opens, I sit up, breathing sharp, harsh breaths. “You okay?” she asks, grabbing my shoulder.

“I’m fine. Just never had anyone hit me hard enough to kill the suit’s power while I was still inside it.” I say, getting my breathing under control. “Kwyn, is she—”

“I checked. She’s out cold, but she’s fine. Her power armor took most of the beating, as far as I can tell.”

I let out a sigh of relief, letting my head hang forward. A low hum has me looking over my shoulder; the lights on my suit have come back on, indicating it’s completed the power reroute that it had been working on. “Oh, now you bring the power back online.” I mutter. “Couldn’t have done that a few minutes earlier…”

“We can still stop them.” Whisper murmurs to me, keeping my voice low even as her icy blue eyes track the Valiant across the room. They’re pretty quick about gathering up their people and funneling them towards the temple’s exit. “Most of them are exposed…”

I reach over and take her wrist. “Whisper.” I say. “They might be thinking the same thing about us, and I’m not willing to risk Kwyn’s life for that.”

Whisper presses her lips together, exhaling a breath through her nose. “Fine. But only because we’ve gotta keep Junior safe.” Turning, she moves away to start tending to our fallen operatives, and I take a moment to catch my breath, hooking an arm over my knee.

I’ll probably get back into my armor shortly, now that it’s actually working, but I need a moment to breathe fresh air and enjoy freedom of movement. Though I jokingly call the Axiom suit a metal coffin, the joke becomes a reality when it loses power. Being encased in hundreds of pounds of metal that’s no longer responding to your movements is a quick ticket to severe claustrophobia, and I need a little bit of time to recover from that. After about a minute or so of getting my breathing back under control, I start gearing up to get back into my suit.

And as I’m doing so, I catch sight of Songbird guiding one of the Valiant agents towards the temple’s exit. He notices me watching, and his ruby gaze catches mine for a second; in that moment, something that Makalu said flashes back across my mind.

All I see is a man consumed by the fear of his own power.

Whatever fear was holding him back, I hope that it doesn’t go away anytime soon.