Valiant

[Valiant #36: The Fountain of Souls]

Log Date: 11/25/12764

Data Sources: Kiwi, Feroce Acceso

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Sunthorn Bastion: Central Tower

5:32pm SGT

“Talk to me, Legaci, what’s going on?” I say as the doors to the tower’s lobby slide open for me.

“Timetable on the Xayrak deployment has moved up.” Legaci’s hologram is already standing in the lobby, presumably to guide arrivals to the right room at the top of the tower.

“Yeah, I gathered as much. Tell me why.” I say, my hands touching to my beltline to make sure my ninjato hilts are clipped there. “Whatever’s happened, it sounds urgent. Why do the Masklings need us there right now?”

“Mask Collector they were trying to catch is no longer the biggest problem.” Legaci says, another hologram of her shimmering into existence as I step into the elevator. “Details are thin, but what we’ve gathered so far is that there was an unannounced arrival at Xayrak. Warship of some sort that didn’t answer to hails and moved into geosynchronist orbit, then descended into the atmosphere. After settling into the atmosphere, it strafed the defensive emplacements in the local area, along with the police structures and the garrison for the local planetguard.”

“What kind of warship? Lots of combat vessels fall under that description.” I ask as the elevator quickly begins gliding upwards.

“Like I said, details are thin. Based on initial descriptions and reports, it’s in the destroyer size class, possibly larger.” Legaci says. “After the initial strafing, the remains of the local planetguard said that the warship started deploying troop transports while moving into position over one of the planet’s spiritual sites. There’s something on the ground that the aggressing force wants, and seems like it’s located in this spiritual site that the warship’s parked over.”

“Sounds like a planned operation. Cripple the defenses, move into position, and deploy teams while maintaining fire control over the area.” I say, pulling my stunner out of my jacket holder and checking the charge on it. “Were there any other bombardments after the initial strafing?”

“None that have been reported. Seems like the aggressing group is only using enough force to mollify resistance; they have no interest in actually destroying infrastructure. I believe they’re only dealing enough damage to keep the planetguard busy with triage and disaster response.” Legaci says as the floors whip by.

“We’ll still be deploying into a hostile zone, and I don’t like the idea of running around on the ground underneath a warship that can pummel us from two miles up.” I point out, giving my field jacket a once-over. It’s the new jacket that Fashionista designed for Valiant Agents, at once stylish and armored, and despite how obnoxious the man can be, I have to grudgingly admit that he can work miracles when marrying form and function. “How close can you deploy us to the site?”

“The DIRT satellite is moving into position right now. The warship is parked over the site, so I can’t put you down right on site, but I can thread the needle and send the DIRT column down right next to the ship.”Legaci says, the elevator slowing as we start to near the top. “My recommendation was to deploy the team on top of the warship so they could breach it and contest the site that way, but Maskling authorities shot that idea down. They don’t want to take any risks — they want to secure the site first, and deal with the warship second.”

“Shame.” I mutter as the elevator slows to a halt. “It’s been a while since I stormed a starship.”

Legaci gives me a sidelong look. “Didn’t take you for the pirating sort.”

That stops me dead, and I blink a couple times, then shaking my head. “Sorry. Don’t know what came over me just then.” I say as the elevator door rotates open again. There was something about getting Legaci’s cold, rapid-fire briefing that had awakened anticipation in me, the heady rush of being presented with a challenge and being asked to rise to it. It reminded me of my past in the Challenger program, when this was my life, and a crisis wasn’t something we ran away from — it was something we ran towards. There was a thrill to it that I’d almost forgotten.

“Well don’t stop now. A Songbird that’s eager for a fight is a breath of fresh air.” Legaci says, keeping pace with me as we step out into the uppermost floor of the tower. “I’ve summoned all the personnel that were deemed critical for this mission. Originally we were going to send the entire group that was going to be needed for this series of missions, but since we’ll now be deploying to what might be an active combat zone, we’re holding back the recruits and less-experienced personnel. We’ll still send them, but it’ll be on a separate DIRT deployment, possibly a day or two from now, depending on the outcome of this deployment.”

“Good to know.” I say, navigating the halls with the ease of muscle memory. I’d walked this path so many times before that it was burned into my mind, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. “Are we deploying with any additional equipment?”

“We’ve got the freight elevator bringing up a set of ARTVs so you can start hoofin’ it to the site the moment you arrive.” Legacy as we turn down the final hall. “It’ll be faster than going it on foot, and Kaiser hopes the reduced window for reaction will make it less likely the ship will have time to take potshots from above. He thinks that if the team gets to the site quickly enough, they’ll be safe because the ship won’t risk firing in the vicinity of the site where it has its soldiers deployed.”

“One would hope. Not all groups value their personnel as much as we do.” I say as the door to the deployment room spirals open before us. In the center of the massive room is the DIRT pad — a large, crystalline hexagon embedded into the floor, with enough space to park an entire convoy or a detachment of tanks within its borders. At the moment there’s only three vehicles parked on it, with armored frames and large, thick wheels for handling rough terrain.

“Oh good, there’s another one.” Sierra says from the side of the room where the weapons center is housed. The wall, lined with racks upon racks of rifles, pistols, and other armaments, is a familiar sight, allowing Challengers to get geared up without having to visit the armory first. “We’re going to be heading out once the rest of the Masklings get here. You got all your kit, right?”

“Got everything I should need, yeah.” I say as I head over to join her, patting my sleeve and checking to make sure my Crescendo earbuds are tucked away within it. “Toss me one of the stunner rifles.”

Sierra gives me a flat look with her one visible eye. “Seriously?”

“What?” I say, holding my hands out. “All I’ve got is a stunner pistol and a couple of swords. I’ll need a rifle if we get there and find out we’re up against people with ranged weapons.”

“You’re kiddin’ me, right?” Sierra says, stuffing another couple of spike cartridges into her bandolier. “A stunner rifle? You can roll a whole platoon with sonic sorcery, but you’re out here telling me you’re gonna use a stunner rifle instead of that?”

“There’s this little thing called ‘proportionality’, you should learn about it sometime.” I mutter, walking past her to the section of the wall that has the stunner rifles, and pulling one down. “If we get there and it’s less of a challenge than we expected, I’d rather keep things nice and simple, instead of having to break out my music.”

“Oh, proportionality, my ass.” Sierra scoffs, nabbing a couple of grenades off the wall. “I know damn well that you can be perfectly proportionate with your sonic sorcery. Not every song in there is a stadium smasher; I know you’ve got a range of different songs for different situations. You might act dumb sometimes, but I know you’re smart enough, and cautious enough, to make sure you’ve got the tools you need for all sorts of situations.”

“Well yeah, but it doesn’t mean I wanna go scrolling through my playlists looking for the perfect song for a situation.” I mutter, snagging a power cell out of one of the dispensers in the wall, and slotting it into the rifle.

“So you’re lazy.” Sierra says, hooking more grenades onto her belt.

“It’s not easy, finding a good song to match the moment, okay?” I protest, powering on the rifle and checking the setting.

“Hey, ease up on the grenades.” Legaci orders to Sierra. “Those are limited use, limited stock. The Foundry can make more, but it still costs us, since we have to source the materials.”

Sierra sticks her tongue out at Legaci. “Better to get in a fight and have too many than to get in a fight and not have enough. Besides, whatever I don’t use will be going back into the inventory when I get back. It’s called recycling!”

“So, uhm, where’s the safest place to sit in one of these?”

I turn around to see that Luci’s gingerly peering into one of the ARTVs. “Sierra, what’s the catboi doing here? He’s not coming with us, is he?” I ask, glancing back at her.

Sierra looks up from checking her coilgun rifle. “Oh yeah, we’re bringing Luci. In case we need him to. I dunno, deliver messages or something, or act as backup to get us out of a tight situation. He’s never been to Xayrak, at least that he can remember, so he’ll need to come with us, since he can’t manifest in places that he hasn’t been before.”

The door to the room spirals open again, and this time it’s Cahriu, Tarocco, Kiwi, and Forecast coming through. Cahriu, Tarocco, and Kiwi are all geared up in their Special Agent gear, like I am — black cargos, a black shirt with a silksteel weave, and a combat jacket with alloyed plates integrated into it. It’s a uniform that’s built for speed and mobility, and gives up some of the added protection we’d be getting with standard body armor, or suits of partial power armor.

“Hey, there’s the rest.” Sierra calls over to them. “Y’all gonna need any guns? We’ve got plenty to spare over here.”

“Never hurts to have a backup.” Cahriu says as he makes his way over. “Toss me a plasma pistol if you’ve got one up there. Not really a fan of coilguns.”

“Plasma for me as well.” Tarocco says. I notice she’s wearing what looks like a black bodysuit beneath her uniform. “Rifle and a pistol.”

“What about you, Kiwi?” I ask as I sling my stunner rifle across my back by the carry strap. “Need a sidearm?”

“Got everything I need right here…” she says, lifting a hand to show her wristmarks, then plants her other hand on my chest. “…and here. What about you? Got everything you need?”

“Yeah. Same as you.” I say, reaching up to rest my hand over hers. “Got everything I need right here.”

“Charmingly sentimental, but we have more pressing issues right now.” Forecast remarks drily. “Whatever group has attacked Xayrak is targeting the Fountain of Souls on that world. Getting there and protecting it is the highest priority at the moment.”

“Fountain of Souls? What’s that? Sounds pretty important.” Luci say, leaning out of the window of one of the ARTVs.

“It’s the equivalent of a graveyard for Masklings.” Cahriu says as he checks the pistol he’s gotten from Sierra. “It holds shards of broken Masks, and old Masks that are tired of living.”

“It’s also a place where new Masks are born.” Tarocco says as she takes a plasma rifle off the wall. “Synthesized from the dust of old Masks that have eroded in the Fountain.”

“So it’s like a graveyard and a nursery, rolled into one.” Luci surmises.

“Precisely. Which is why we need to get there as quickly as possible.” Forecast says. “A Fountain of Souls isn’t just sacred; it’s how past generations are laid to rest, and how future generations are born. We don’t know why it’s being targeted, and frankly, it doesn’t matter at the moment. All that matters is that we protect it from whatever the attackers plan to do to it.”

“Well, we’ll do that as soon as everyone else gets here.” Sierra says, pulling a collapsing plasma-edge katana off the wall and hooking it on her belt. “According to Legaci, we’re only taking Agents that have had prior combat experience on this mission. Valkyrie and Drill don’t want to throw the new recruits into a high-pressure deployment where they might melt down.”

“No point in sending rookies to do a veteran’s job.” Drill says as the doors spiral open for him and Valkyrie, followed by some of the more experienced recruits we’ve gotten. “The rooks can cut their teeth on a mission that doesn’t have so much riding on it.”

“Heyyyy, there’s our medic!” Sierra calls to Valkyrie. “You need a pistol, blondie?”

“I’m already equipped, thank you.” Valkyrie declines tersely. Unlike the rest of us, her Special Agent uniform is all-white, and on the back and shoulders is a red circle with a little dash running through the bottom of it. The color scheme and the symbol are the universal sign for medical aid, and it’s supposed to warn soldiers away from targeting medics in conflict zones. Behind her, the regular Agents are kitted out in the standard armor you’d expect for most military and paramilitary groups. “Is everyone ready to deploy?”

“Almost to that point, I think.” Legaci says, her hologram walking over to the DIRT pad. “We’ll be sending everyone’s luggage for the rest of the missions on the second deployment, along with the rooks and the personnel needed for the other missions. For now, you all are just deploying with what you need for this mission. The Armored Rough-Terrain Vehicles will seat five, but we’ll be sending you four to a vehicle. Twelve personnel deployed in total, six Special Agents and six regular Agents. Your objective is to get to the site, secure the Fountain of Souls, and keep it safe until Maskling authorities are able to take over the job of protecting it. Bonus points if you can also disable that bigass warship while you’re at it. Any questions?”

“Any details on what we’re up against? Beyond what you’ve already told us.” I ask, heading over to one of the ARTVs and pulling the door open as the others start to load up as well.

“Nothing. Intel is limited due to the fact that it’s a surprise attack. We still don’t know what group the ship belongs to.” Legaci says as I slide into the driver’s seat, and Kiwi pulls herself into the shotgun seat. “Most I could tell you is to expect professional soldiers, given the coordinated and planned nature of the attack. Beyond that, we have practically no insight into the capabilities of the attacking ship or the personnel it’s deployed.”

“Once you deploy, we won’t be able to contact you.” Forecast adds as I turn on the ARTV, and the other two ARTVs rumble to life as the rest of our team finishes climbing into them. “The ship is jamming communications in the area, probably to keep anyone on the site from sending requests for help. You all will be on your own. Make your decisions accordingly.”

“We’ll be fine.” Kiwi says, waving off Forecast’s concern. “Whatever they’ve got waiting for us, it can’t hold a candle to me and Songbird. We’ll have this sorted out in no time.”

“True. Just remember that you have comrades you need to watch over as well.” Forecast says as he starts backing off the pad along with Drill and Legaci. “Don’t get carried away, and don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I’ve got Songbird for.” Kiwi says as she starts buckling in. In the other ARTVs, the others are doing the same, while the pad starts to glow beneath us. Motes of light start drifting up through the air on straight lines, reaching to the ceiling, which has started to spiral open. After glancing up to take it in, Kiwi looks to me. “Anything I should know about before this happens?” she asks.

I take my attention off the ARTV’s dashboard, glancing at her. “Before… what? The mission? Or, oh — do you mean when the DIRT array fires? I forgot, it is your first time, isn’t it.”

“Yeah, I’m about to get launched thousands of lightyears across the galaxy in a matter of seconds. So, just a little nervous.” she says, pointing a thumb over her shoulder at the Agents in the backseat. “And I’m sure they are too.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s completely painless.” I say, tapping through the console screen to the communications section. “There’s this surge of light, followed by a feeling of weightlessness, and it’s like that for five, six seconds before you slam down on the planet you’re deploying to. Feels like a kind of thump, but it’s not unpleasant, unless you’re old or frail. Light fades away after that, but you’ve usually got this rush in your head that lingers, it’s kind of like exhilaration — heart pumping, blood racing, amped up for a fight. It’s a great side effect if you’re deploying to a hot zone.”

“Hmm. That doesn’t sound too bad, all things considered.” Kiwi says, leaning back in her seat. Outside, the glowing motes are starting to turn into steady streams of liquid light flowing ever upwards, reaching up to the guide ring that’s hovering high above the tower.

“Yeah. Personally, I love it, but I hear it makes some people nauseous. So I guess the effect might be a little different from person to person.” I say as I settle on a channel, then call through the open window. “Valkyrie, Sierra! Channel one for local comms?”

“Channel one.” Valkyrie calls back, tapping at her console screen as well.

“Boring, but yeah, sure.” Sierra replies, doing the same.

“Good.” I say. “As far as I can figure it, plan is to put the pedal to the metal the moment we impact, and hightail it straight for the site beneath the warship. Evade any resistance on the way there, and once we reach the site, we assess the situation and proceed accordingly. Did I miss anything?”

“Deviate and adapt as necessary, but yes, that’s the plan.” Valkyrie agrees, her voice feeding through the console now that we’re all on the same comms channel.

“Awesome. Let’s do this.” I say, planting my hands on the wheel as exterior of the ARTV starts to dissolve into the liquid light that’s drifting up towards the guide ring. I give Kiwi one final look. “You ready?”

“Well, if it’s as fun as you say it is, I’m all for it.” she grins.

“Only one way to find out.” I say, then call through the window. “Hit it, Legaci!”

Legaci gives us a thumbs up, and the DIRT pad pulses beneath us, everything disappearing in a surge of blue light.

Encyclopedia Galactica

Plasma Gun

As the second most common firearm design in the galaxy, plasma guns are considered the primary and pricier alternative to coilguns, and are used by many of the same groups that use coilguns. Just as with coilguns, the plasma gun family is large and contains several branches, ranging from small arms to military-grade weapons.

Unlike coilguns, which fire a physical projectile in the form of a coilgun spike, plasma guns fire a bolt of superheated plasma. This bolt is held together by a small, highly magnetized pellet made of iron, neodymium, or an alloy of the two; the magnetic field of the pellet keeps the plasma from dispersing when it exits the gun’s barrel, and holds it close around the pellet as it travels to its target. Upon impact, the plasma ‘splashes’ the target area, usually scorching and reacting with whatever it comes in contact with. Damage from plasma bolts is usually not penetrative except at very close ranges; instead, most of the damage is thermal, and most deaths from plasma bolts result from heat shock. Heat shock is the sudden transfer of thermal energy from the bolt to an unprotected body, which can stress internal organs in the target area to the point of failure.

Plasma guns are known for being particularly good at eroding, weakening, or melting through traditional armors that protect against coilgun spikes and other physical projectiles. As a result, there is a market for armors built specifically for heat dissipation, heat redistribution, heat tolerance, and magnetic disruption; and there are several mixed-type armors that incorporate these designs into armor sets originally meant for protecting against physical projectiles.

Besides their thermal approach to damage, plasma guns differ from coilguns in that plasma guns are often adjustable, being able to change the temperature, intensity, and volume of plasma injected into every bolt. This allows for the user of a plasma gun to ‘adjust lethality’, either increasing or reducing the likelihood that the target will die as a result of being struck with a plasma bolt. This allows a single plasma gun to fill a wider range of roles than its coilgun equivalent might otherwise be able to do, and often allows soldiers to clear space in their loadout that would otherwise be occupied by multiple guns.

In terms of design, plasma guns are notably more complex than coilguns, as they require precision injections of gas into the firing chamber, precise magnetization of the pellet, and calculated adjustments to both of these elements when changing the temperature or volume of the bolts that the gun fires. Most plasma guns have computerized elements that make the necessary adjustments to the gun’s systems when changing the bolt output, and built-in regulators to throttle those systems if they start to edge towards overload or catastrophic failure. This does, of course, make plasma guns more expensive to both manufacture and repair; however, these built-in protections serve to make plasma guns much less prone to mechanical failure.

Event Log: Kiwi

Xayrak: Temple Road

5:47pm SGT

I can feel when we slam down, and the light fades seconds afterwards, evaporating around us as if it had been made of steam.

Drawing a sharp breath, I hang onto the door handle as Songbird throws the ARTV into drive and floors the accelerator, the engine roaring as we hurtle forward. I’m still getting my bearings, but I can see we’re on what appears to be a wide, paved road with painted lanes, with subtropical vegetation lining the sides of the road. As we go tearing along the road, I can see in the side mirror that the other two ARTVs are burning rubber to catch up with us, and there’s patterned scorch marks on the road where we’d arrived.

“Hot damn.” I gasp, still feeling the rush from being hurled across the galaxy. “So this is how the Challengers got around back in the day?”

“For urgent deployments, yeah.” Songbird says as the ARTV settles into higher gears. “Am I right assume that pyramid looking thing is the temple?”

I peer through the windshield. Up ahead of us is a complex of buildings, and in the center of it is a pyramid with staggered sides, with an atrium cored down the center of it. “That’s the temple, yeah. Fountain of Souls will be in the center of it.” At that point, we cross under a massive shadow, and I lean out of the wind to look up at the sky. There’s a ship hovering overhead, eclipsing the temple with its shadow, and it’s not a small ship. “Ink above, that thing’s huge… I’d say it’s even bigger than the Accatria.”

“It’s not pointing any guns at us, is it?” Songbird asks.

“Not yet.” I say, scanning the warship’s underbelly. “I can spot some turrets, but nothing’s swiveling towards us.”

“Hopefully it stays that way.” he says as we careen onto the temple grounds, cultivated lawns and flowerbeds rushing by on either side. He eases up on the speed as the road curves through the grounds, wandering past some of the other buildings — a visitor center and housing units for the on-site staff. “Eyes up in the back, I’m seeing troop transports deployed outside of the temple.”

The two Agents in the backseat unbuckle, sliding back a portion of the ARTV’s roof and standing up through it. I lean forward in my seat, shaking my wristmarks awake as I see the troop transports parked outside the temple’s main entrance. There’s a couple of soldiers standing outside of them, though they start shouting the moment they see us, bolting for the transports.

“Contacts are moving for cover, boss, no aggression yet.” calls one of the Agents in the back. “Open fire?”

“Hold for now, maybe they’ll play nice if we play nice.” Songbird orders, opening up the comms channel on the console. “Valkyrie, Sierra, you see the two transports at the temple?”

“I see ‘em. Decent size, I’d say they could carry about twenty men apiece. Looks milspec, they’re armored.” Sierra replies through comms. “If they came fully stacked, we’re gonna have a party on our hands.”

“That’s if they stay. Rotary thrusters are firing up.” Valkyrie points out. Dust and debris are starting to blast away from the rotating cylinders on the sides of the transports, the roar of a vertical takeoff drowning out the growling engine of the ARTV. Songbird slows down even more, rolling up his window; I do the same, and the Agents in the back retreat back through the roof hatch, pulling it shut behind them.

“Are they retreating?” I murmur as the transports rise into the air while waves of dust and leaves roll over the ARTV’s windshield.

“Seems that way.” Songbird murmurs back, watching while the thrusters on the transports start to angle and rotate for a flying ascent. “Let’s hope we’re not too late. Only reason for them to be running is if they’ve already got what they’ve come for, because I’m pretty sure they aren’t scared of us with that ship babysitting them.” As the transports rise beyond the ARTV’s field of view, he closes the remaining distance to the temple, bringing us to a sharp halt by the main entrance.

“Not seeing that they left anyone behind.” I say, pushing open my door and sliding out as the other two ARTVs pull up. “At least on the outside of the temple. Not sure about the inside yet.”

“If this is a temple, there might be civilians present, right?” Songbird asks as he turns off the ARTV and slides out.

“Might be. Temples are like Sanctuaries, they typically have resident staff.” I reply as the others start spilling out of the ARTVs. “I’m not sure if the ones here would’ve had time to evacuate. If they had advance notice of the attack, they may have had time to sequester themselves in the subterranean levels of the temple. Most of our major community buildings have an underground level that has one or two escape routes.”

“If there are civilians present, we’ll help get them to safety, but the objective remains the same.” Valkyrie says, coming around her ARTV and snapping out orders to the regular Agents. “Agents will remain in teams of two. You’re Team 1, you’re Team 2, you’re Team 3. Team 1 will remain here and stand watch; guard the ARTVs and keep and eye on things. Team 2, you’ll clear the grounds on the left side of the temple; Team 3, you do the same on the right side of the temple. Special Agents will remain together and clear the temple itself.”

“Anything we should know before we head in?” Sierra asks, grabbing a tall combat shield out of the back of her ARTV as she directs the question towards Cahriu, Tarocco, and Kiwi. “Don’t want to get caught off guard by any surprises.”

“It’s a public temple, not a dungeon. There’s no traps lying around.” Tarocco says as Cahriu uses his runemarks to form a combat shield of his own, this one made of crimson hardlight. “The only threats inside are whatever’s coming from the invaders.”

“Let’s hope they don’t end up being too much of a threat, then.” Songbird says, glancing up to where the troop transports are growing smaller as they rise towards the ship’s underbelly. “Let’s move. Lingering out here is making me uneasy.”

“Agreed.” Sierra says, moving towards the front doors with Cahriu joining her, both of them keeping their shields up in the front. Songbird and I fall in behind them, Songbird flicking the safety off on his stunner rifle while I use my runemarks to form an orbit of featherblades around my left wrist. Tarocco and Valkyrie follow behind us as Sierra and Cahriu burst through the front doors, ready for a fight.

But what greets us is instead an empty lobby, devoid of soldiers and civilians. Ochre floor tiles faintly mirror us as we cross through the room, which has couches, plants, a reception desk off to the side. Directly in front of us, stairs lead up to a long hall can be seen leading to the center of the temple, and two other halls that branch off to either side of the lobby, but there’s no signs of violence or battle. Songbird peels off to check one side of the lobby, and I do the same, heading over to the reception desk while Sierra and Cahriu check up the stairs, and Tarocco and Valkyrie check the adjacent halls.

“Nothing over here.” Songbird calls from his side of the room.

“The hall ahead looks empty.” Sierra says from the top of the stairs as I run my hand along the top of the reception counter, peering over it. “Straight shot to the center of the temple.”

“Nothing down this hall.” Valkyrie calls.

“Same for this hall.” Tarocco repeats.

I’m about call the all clear for my side of the room, but when I peer a little further over the reception counter, I hear something faint — like the shuffle of fabric over fabric. After a moment more of listening, I snatch one of the featherblades from around my wrist, moving around the side of the counter until I see a pair of legs underneath the desk. Moving a little further reveals a person tucked up underneath the reception counter, dressed in what looks like a temple uniform.

“We got someone over here under the desk.” I call to the others, before giving an order to the hideaway. “Come out slowly. Identify yourself.”

The person under the reception desk slowly shuffles out from beneath it, their hands up.  From what I can tell, they look like an elf with some scales around their eyes and a leopard tail — very clearly a Maskling, given the chimaerism. “I haven’t done anything since the soldiers left, I promise.” he says shakily.

“Looks like one of the temple staff.” Tarocco says as she makes her way over. “You said there were soldiers here?”

The receptionist looks to her. “Yeah? You’re not… not with them?”

I give him a look. “Why would you think we’re with them? Can’t you see the wristmarks?” I ask, motioning to my wrists. “We’re Masklings, just like you.”

The receptionist’s gaze bounces between me and Tarocco. “The soldiers were Masklings, too.” he says.

“What?” I demand, lowering the hand that’s got the featherblade. “What do you mean, they were Masklings?”

“Th-they were Masklings. Had wristmarks, were using rune magic, everything.” the receptionist stuttered. “Anyone that resisted, they hit them with displacement ripples. Some of the staff were able to get into the basement; the other ones, the soldiers kept them at gunpoint. Kept us in the lobby while some of the soldiers went to the Fountain. And it was like that for a while until they just… left. The ones in the lobby went back outside and the transports took off. And then you guys came in.”

“What happened to the other Masklings that were in the lobby?” Valkyrie demands, looking around. “There’s no one in here now.”

“They went downstairs as soon as the soldiers left.” the receptionist said. “It’s safe down in the basement, built for attacks like this. I stayed up top to try and call, but the phones aren’t working, and you guys came inside, and I thought the soldiers were coming back, so I tried to hide—”

“Why would Masklings be attacking their own temple?” Songbird demands. “I thought the Maskling Republic was united. Are there factions that would fight each other?”

“No, there aren’t.” I say impatiently. “We’re too busy takin’ shit from the rest of the galaxy to worry about fighting each other. That’s the unspoken rule of Maskling politics; no matter how much you hate the other side, you stand with them against outsiders. Most nations in the galaxy want to see us dead and fighting each other is basically doing the job for them.”

“They were Masklings!” the receptionist stresses. “You don’t believe me, go look in the Fountain room! They’re probably still there—”

He’s cut off by a low, bassy thrum that vibrates the entire temple for a moment, drawing everyone’s attention. At the top of the stairs, Sierra calls back to the rest of us. “That felt like it came from the center of the temple. I dunno what’s goin’ on, but something’s definitely happening in there.”

“We’re wasting time debating this.” Tarocco says, then looks to the receptionist. “Get downstairs with the rest of the temple staff. We’ll come to get you all when it’s safe.”

“Are there any down there that need immediate medical care?” Valkyrie asks him.

The receptionist shakes his head as he moves out from behind the desk. “Not that I’m aware, no. Lots of bruises and scrapes, but the soldiers weren’t trying to kill anyone.”

“Then I’ll stay up here.” Valkyrie says as we move towards the stairs where Sierra and Cahriu are still waiting. “Same as before, shields in front, everyone else behind.”

“Would’ve been nice to see this place when it wasn’t under attack.” Cahriu says as we start into the hall leading to the center of the temple. The roof of the hall is made out of glass that forms a sharp upward angle, following same plane as the pyramid’s exterior surface. “Maybe we’ll have time to enjoy it once we’ve cleaned up here.”

“Is there anything we should know about the Fountain before we get there?” Songbird asks, the question directed to me, but also to the other Masklings.

“Yes. Don’t step into it.” Tarocco says immediately. “That’s basically a death sentence.”

“Oh.” he says, sounding a little taken aback by that. “I hadn’t realized it was that… dangerous.”

“I mean, it’s basically a giant soul blender.” Cahriu says from the front. “Important to our culture, but if you step into it, your soul’s going to get shredded into the dust that’ll make a new Mask one day. It’s pretty to look at, but you’ll want to keep your distance if you can.”

“Noted.” Valkyrie says tersely. “Let’s focus on what’s ahead of us.”

“We’re coming up on the room. There’s people in there, I think I can see the Fountain.” Sierra says over her shoulder, hooking her rifle through the aperture in her shield. “Decision time. Are we chargin’ it, or goin’ in slow?”

“Let me handle it.” I answer immediately, starting to shrug off my jacket and tying the sleeves around my waist. “Cahriu, can you tank for me? If you can get me in there, I can wipe out the resistance.”

“It’s gonna need to be quick. This shield can take a few hits, but it’ll give under concentrated fire.” Cahriu says over his shoulder.

“All I need is seven seconds.” I say. My shirt under the jacket is sleeveless, allowing the rune circles on my shoulders to glow to life and rise off my skin. “Once I’ve flattened the room, the rest of you can get in there and clean up.”

“Are you sure?” Songbird says, looking concerned. “Just the two of you charging in there alone…”

I smile at him. “It’ll be fine. I’ve been working on a few new spells; just sit back and enjoy the show.”

“Comin’ up on the room now, it’s do or die.” Sierra warns.

“Let’s do it.” I say, thumping a hand on Cahriu’s back. “Go go go big dog, let’s get in there!”

Cahriu shifts forward into charge, and stay close behind him as he bursts into the center of the temple. It’s a wide room at the nexus of four hallways leading from each side of the temple, and the Fountain is in the center on a raised dais — a wide pool that emits a column of ethereal light, filled with swirls of dust and fragments of Masks riding on unseen currents. A wider curtain of light seems to be draped around the dais, descending from the warship overhead, and road cutter machines look like they’ve been deployed to start lasering through the marble floor around it. There are close to twenty fighters in the room — I wouldn’t call them soldiers, because they’re not wearing uniforms — many of them clearly chimaeric hybrids that could only be Masklings.

A few of them see us charge in, and the rest soon notice as well; the first plasma shots start hitting Cahriu’s shield as he skids to a halt about twenty feet into the room. He sets the bottom against the floor and sets his shoulder against it to brace it, hunching down as I skid to a halt behind him. “Whatever you’re gonna do, make it quick!” he grunts, keeping his tail tucked around his ankles so I don’t step on it.

“Alright, here we go.” Crouching behind him, I start picking out certain runes on my wristmarks, tugging them down and joining them together until I’ve got what I want. When I snap my fingers, they disappear, and I set my hands to the floor as I feel a rush of energy start to build in my midsection, and work its way up to my shoulders. The runes floating there start to morph together, forming dense little capsules of light and compacted energy, six to each shoulder. I look up at that point, scanning across the room and the fighters moving towards us, the plasma bolts cracking Cahriu’s translucent red shield.

I pick my targets, and with a single thought, give the order for my capsules to launch.

They fire off my shoulders in sequence, each one a quarter second after the previous one, arcing up into the air on a parabola that has them diving back down on the spots where the fighters are clustered the most densely. The moment the capsules hit anything, whether it’s a floor or a wall or a person, they explode with a concussive blast and a splash of viridian plasma. The room is suddenly rocked with a dozen explosions that all occur within two seconds; singed fighters are thrown back or thrown flat, marble floors or walls are cracked, and an eerie green haze swirls before quickly dimming and starting to evaporate. Behind me, I can hear the rest of the Valiant running into the room, and shots being fired at the fighters that are trying to get back up.

“Goddamn, Kiwi.” Cahriu says, starting to stand back up as the green haze starts to evanesce. “Those pauldron runes don’t mess around, do they?”

I push off the ground, giving a smug shrug. “More runes, more potential spells. That’s only one of the new tricks I’ve got up my sleeve.”

“Less bragging, more working.” Tarocco says as she walks past us, plasma rifle raised, while Songbird passes on the other side, sending another stunner pulse towards a fighter trying to get off the floor. “We’re not done yet. I don’t know what they’re doing to the Fountain, but they haven’t stopped.”

“Looks like they’re cutting into the floor around the Fountain.” Sierra says, her coilgun crackling as she fires two spikes at one of the fighters that’s pushing one of the cutter machines around the Fountain. That gets the attention of the other people on the dais — three people in dark cloaks with the hoods pulls over their head, and one massive, towering mountain of a man — at least eight feet tall, if I had to guess. At a motion from the big guy, the three cloaks turn and start down the stairs towards us.

“I think we got their attention.” Songbird says, turning his rifle towards the cloaks and firing a couple pulse. The one in the middle holds up what looks like a stone lantern, a faint aura of witchgreen light encircling the trio; the pulses splash off the luminous barrier. The other two cloaks are holding similar lanterns, but they let go of them, chains sliding through their hands as I realize they’re not just lanterns — they’re stone flails, with wickedly flanged bottoms.

“Looks like I’ll get to have some fun after all.” Cahriu says, hitching up his cracked shield as the two cloaks on the sides start spinning their lanterns by the chains attached to the top. He squeezes off a couple shots from his plasma rifle, but they likewise dissipate against the barrier the same as Songbird’s did. “Well that’s a bummer.” he says, glancing back at me. “Hey Kiwi, you think you can—”

“Cahriu, pay attention!” I warn him. As soon as he’d glanced back at me, one of the cloaks had slung their lantern towards him; he looks around in time to raise his shield and block it, but the impact is an explosive one, shattering his shield and sending him flying backwards. I rush to finish charging one of my wristmarks, and send a displacement ripple at the group, but it barely shifts them — either they’re really heavy, or that lantern barrier is taking the edge off my attack.

“Up close and personal it is, then.” Songbird says, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and snagging his sword hilts off his belt. I follow suit, using my runemarks to materialize a combat hammer out of hardlight, while Sierra charges in, unfolding her plasma-edge katana and igniting it. The three of us hit hard enough to stop the forward advance of the cloaks, and in the background, I can hear Valkyrie helping Cahriu up and asking if he’s okay.

“Heads up, Songbird!” I call as I bring my hammer down towards the cloak on the right, who jumps back to avoid the slam. As the head of my hammer slams into the ground, he uses it as a stepping stone to lunge into the air, his starglass blades coming up and around to slash at the cloak’s head as he lands on their shoulders, forcing them to their knees.

There’s the painful shriek of starglass on metal, and Songbird shouts “There’s armor undernea—” before the rest of his sentence is lost to the cloak palming his face with a gauntleted hand. Runes glow along the armor, followed by an emerald explosion that sends him flying through the air like a ragdoll, and I have to duck under him to avoid getting floored.

My chest tightens with concern, and I want to help him, but now isn’t the time for sentiment. Instead, I charge in while the cloak is staggered, bringing my hammer in for a vicious uppercut that they can’t dodge. It slams them dead in their center of mass, doubling them over as I feel the armor underneath the cloak dent. I pull my hammer back in a smooth motion that brings it up in an overhead swing, but chains loop around me before I can slam it down. They snap tight within a second, jerking me backwards and binding my arms to my chest until I feel an armored elbow and shoulder slam into my back, getting a pained grunt out of me. Attempts to twist and wriggle loose just result in the chains tightening around me; from where I am, I can see Sierra still going at it with the cloak on the left, meaning the cloak in the middle must be the one that’s got me chained up.

“Dammit.” I hiss, struggling to work my hammer to a point where I can leverage it against the chains. In front of me, the right cloak is starting to stagger back to their feet. I don’t know how hard that explosion hit Songbird, but he did take it point-blank to the face, so it may be a minute before he gets back up. “Tarocco! Could use a little help here!”

“I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’!” I hear her call back, followed by couple of plasma discharges. “It’s just hard to get a clean shot when you all are so close together!”

“Screw the gun, then! Get your hands dirty!” I shout as the right cloak starts to pick up his chained lantern again.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea—”

“BITCH, I am about to get my face stoved in by thirty pounds of stone lantern! Stow the gun and get your ASS in gear!” I bark back at her, before another loop of chain is thrown around my neck and yanked tight. I grit my teeth as I feel the pressure on my windpipe, and try to throw myself to the side so I at least won’t be completely exposed to to the right cloak’s lantern. The middle cloak stumbles a little, before jerking me back around to face the right cloak, who’s getting a swinging grip on their chain.

At least until they get hit by a glop of high-velocity, green-yellow goo.

It sends them staggering backwards, with the cloak and the armor beneath beginning to sizzle as the acid eats into them. The cloak holding me starts to turn around, just in time to see a large maw close around them from above; they immediately let go of the chains as the wolf-like beast bites down. I stagger free of the chains as the beast lifts its head, with the cloak flailing and thrashing within its jaws, and it proceeds to whip its head to the side, opening its jaws in the process and throwing them across the room to slam into one of the walls.

“Gods! Finally, there she is!” I gasp, staggering upright as I get a good look at Tarocco. It’s been a while since she’s broken this form out; it’s an amalgam of different creatures she’s Masked over the years, and looks like a six-legged wolf that stands about five feet tall at the shoulder, with four eyes, and a bright pelt that alternates in waves of yellow and blue. A line of feathers runs down its back and along its spine, extending to its tail, which looks like it's thistled with serrated spines. The legs end in paws that have hinged digits, allowing them to grip and grab things — such as the cloak on the left, which Tarocco has now grabbed from behind and is repeatedly slamming against the floor while Sierra howls with laughter.

Getting a good grip on my hammer, I turn back to the right cloak, who is trying scrape the gooey acid off of themselves and their armor. When they see me coming for them, they snatch up their stone lantern and start to retreat, throwing a hand towards me. Runes light up along the armor, and I can recognize the way the air distorts; though I try to dodge out of the way, the displacement ripple still hits me and throws me back. As I’m rolling back upright, Cahriu shows up beside me, offering me a hand.

“About time you got back into it.” I grunt, taking his offered hand and getting back to my feet.

“I was a little dazed after they exploded my shield. Valkyrie wanted to check me over before sending me back in.” he says, lifting his plasma rifle and squeezing off a shot at the middle cloak, who’s trying to get up from where they fell. “She’s checking on Songbird now. I saw him take the explosion to the face, so he’s looking a little rough, but Valkyrie had some backup blood in her medkit. I’m sure he’ll be up any second now.”

“If he doesn’t hurry up, he’s going to miss out on all the fun.” I mutter, watching as Tarocco finishes slamming the left cloak against the floor, and throws them across the room the same way she did with the middle cloak. Looking back to the Fountain, I can see that the big guy has turned around, and is starting down the stairs of the dais at a slow, lumbering pace. “Let’s go wrap this up.”

“I can get behind that.” he says, turning his rifle towards the big target and squeezing off another couple of plasma bolts. They seem to weaken as they pass through the curtain of light surrounding the dais; they still burn the man’s shirt when they impact, but they barely shift him, and his only reaction is to look at us. He’s got a bushy beard and a healthy mane of grey hair, but the thing that stands out to me the most is that he’s jacked. He might look like an older man, but he’s build like a brick wall, thick biceps and muscles all clearly visible through the burn holes in his shirt.

Raising an arm that’s as thick as a tree trunk, he thumps his chest, and in response, a tangerine ring of runes burns through his sleeveless shirt, rising off his chest. They flatten and start to expand, forming plates of hardlight armor that cover him from head to toe. I’d started to move forward, but I slow down at that, and so does Cahriu. “You’ve got the power on that thing dialed all the way up, right?” I ask him, nodding to his plasma rifle.

“I do now. I think that’s the only way it’s going to get through that armor.” Cahriu replies.

To our left, Sierra and Tarocco are now turning their attention to the big man, who has finished coming down the dais, and stepped through the curtain of light encircling the Fountain. Tarocco’s the first to lunge at him, and he waits until the last second to respond, balling his gauntleted fingers into a fist and punching down, nailing her in the head hard enough to knock her flat on the ground despite her considerable mass. Sierra is next after that, springing off Tarocco’s haunches for a flying slash with a her plasma-bladed katana, but the big man just swings an arm up and backhands her in the torso hard enough to send her flying across the room and against a wall.

With the two of them making their attacks, I’m already charging him from the other side, relying on them to keep him busy so I can get a hit in. I plan to make it a good one; I’ve shifted a few runes down onto the head of my hammer, carrying a spell for force and explosion that’ll trigger on impact. He’s still coming off the motion of backhanding Sierra against the wall as I gear up for my swing, and I start to bring it around, aiming for his hip — if I can land it, it’s sure to shatter the armor there and throw him off balance.

But I don’t land it, because he reaches out with his free hand — without looking — and catches the handle of my hammer, stopping the swing before the blow can land.

Having all my charging momentum shoved to a sudden halt throws me off balance, and I get folded around the haft of my own hammer. I nearly lose my feet, and fumble to keep my balance; by now, the big man’s head has turned towards me, and he wrenches the hardlight hammer from my hands. I’m left staggering, then having a heartsinking realization as the hammer swings back towards me.

I’m about to get hit with my own exploding hammer spell.

I turn to the side, pulling my combat jacket up in the hopes that it’ll soak some of the blow, but it still hits like a truck, and the burst of explosive force sends me flying all the way back to the side of the room we’d originally entered from. Landing on the marble floor knocks the breath out of me, and I slide to a halt after a few feet, rolling over on my back and just lying there for several seconds, thoroughly winded and dazed. Valkyrie is beside me shortly after, checking me over and asking if I can feel my extremities.

“Yeah— yeah, I’m… fine.” I wheeze as I try to push myself up on my elbows. “Just… need a moment… last hit got me a little dizzy…”

“You do not recover as quickly as Songbird. You need take it easy.” Valkyrie says, keeping a hand on my shoulder as she checks my eyes. “He can walk off an explosion to the face; I just need to throw a bottle of blood at him and he’ll be right as rain in five minutes. My other patients are not nearly as simple or easy to treat.”

“I’ll be fine, Valkyrie, I just need a sec to get my head back together.” I grunt, brushing her hand off my shoulder as I start to push myself into a sitting position. There’s still fighting near the Fountain; as my eyes start to refocus, I can see Tarocco getting bodied against the wall. The big man, whoever he is, is an absolute beast of a Maskling; he’s manhandling everyone. Cahriu looks like he’s been deprived of his rifle, and been given the wall treatment as well, and Sierra’s currently pinned to the floor by the big man’s armored boot. “I need to get back in there; whatever they’re doing to the Fountain, we need to stop them.”

“Link with me.” The wheeze comes from off to my side, and I look over to see Songbird rolling over onto his side. One side of his face looks like it’s been blown off, and is slowly regenerating, but it looks pretty painful still. “Took some damage to the spinal cord when the explosion snapped my head back, so I can’t quite get up yet, but I can still get my earbuds in. I got your back.”

“You’re too good to me.” I smile, shaking one of my wrists until his runemarks start to glow to life. As he starts pulling his earbuds out of his sleeve, I stand up, swaying in place a little before bracing myself on my knees. “Woo. Okay. Damn. You don’t realize how hard your own spells hit until someone flips them around on you.”

“Told you, you need to take it easy.” Valkyrie growls behind me. “Vampires are built to take this kind of abuse; you are not. Give your boyfriend a couple minutes to recover and we can throw him back in there for round two.”

“And let ‘im take all the glory again? Bitch please!” I scoff, opening my right hand and forming another warhammer out of my runemarks, the hardlight surface sparking and fizzing against my skin as I close my fingers around the long handle. “I’m a Mask Knight, and this is a Maskling temple. This is Maskling business, and a Maskling’s gonna handle it!” Straightening up, I roll my shoulders and take a deep breath. “Wotcha got for me, Feroce?”

“Let It Rip, The Door Police? Electric guitar, heavy on the drums, rebel rock?”

“HA! You know me!” I cackle, pointing at him. “Give this man a prize, he knows his girl!”

He chuckles, tapping on his phone’s screen. “You’ve got three minutes and twenty seconds. Go wild, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I plan to.” I grin as I feel the first licks of power start to flow across our link, accompanied by the growl of an electric guitar. As the drumbeat drops, I start moving forward, slipping into a run as I pick up momentum.

You know I take what I want

Ain’t a negotiation

And if the city burns

That’s just the price of inflation

Toss a coin to the priest

Tell ‘im the revelation

So said the good Lord—

You can’t buy salvation

The big man is using his armored arm to block Tarocco’s jaws as she gnashes at him, and I take advantage of his distraction to throw a few runes down onto the head of my hammer as I close in. The power I’m funneling into them is supercharged by the energy flowing across my link with Songbird, but it also means they give off a brighter glow than usual, which catches the big man’s attention. Using his other hand, he grabs one of her limbs while her jaws are still latched around his arm, and pivots in place, slinging all of Tarocco around at me with a mighty heave.

I’m not about to be denied another crack at him, though. Lunging forward and dropping to the ground at the same time, I go sliding along the marble as Tarocco goes flying over me. Flipping my hammer over into both hands, I swing it at the big man’s legs as I slide by, and this time it actually connects. The blow hits like a fully-loaded freight truck; the kinetic amplification runes on the hammer multiply the impact, shattering the hardlight greaves around that leg and completely knocking his legs out from under him. He hits the ground hard, though he’s almost immediately rolling over and getting back to his feet as Sierra scrambles back upright, no longer trapped beneath his boot.

“Finally!” Sierra grunts, snatching up her plasma-edged katana and diving right back in. She charges at him while I’m still getting back up, angling her way up the dais stairs so she can get some height before leaping at him with the katana raised. “Let’s see how you handle THIS!”

His answer to that challenge is to reach up and grab the katana before she can slash it down, leaving her dangling from the hilt as he raises it slightly to stare at her.

“Oh.” Sierra concedes as he raises his other arm, runes glowing to life around the wrist and beginning to charge with energy. “Okay, fair enough, seems like you can handl—”

The rest of the sentence gets lost as he punches her, a pulse rippling away from the impact as Sierra’s sent rocketing away from the Fountain and into the nearest wall. There’s a crunch as she slams into the stone, and I have a feeling she won’t be getting back up anytime soon. But that’s okay — Sierra’s failed attack has given me the time I need to load up my hammer with more runes, queue up a few more spells, and come hurtling back at the big man, backed with the power of the music that Songbird’s sharing with me.

(Whoa ho wooo, whoa ho wooo)

Not that it matters, but tell me

Where’d you get that nerve?

(Oh ho whooah)

Don’t tell me what I can’t do

Oh, if only you knew—

Let!

It!

Rip!

No time for fools or fakes!

Hold up, hold on, hold out

You know the stakes!

No no no!

Give me a good time

Bein’ poor shouldn’t be a crime!

You think you got what it takes?

Hold up, hold on, hold out

Don’t hit the brakes!

No no no!

Give me a good time

Havin’ fun ain’t a crime!

“You wield more power than you should rightly have at your age.”

It’s the first thing the big man’s said so far, and it comes as he’s shoving me back after blocking one of my hammer strikes. As I slide back, I almost trip over one of the bodies of the Masklings that we took down earlier, and I hop backwards another couple paces as I try to rebalance. “What can I say, I’m a lot of trouble in a little package.” I quip, using the dialogue to buy myself some time to amp up to my next attack. “Sounds like I’m more of a problem than you were expecting. Surrender and I won’t be your problem anymore.”

“You are a problem, yes. But I am accustomed to solving problems.” he says, using his boot to nudge a chunk of broken marble out of the cracked floor, kicking it at me. I’m quick to twist out of the way, but I see him raising a rune-circled hand, and in the next instant I feel an inverted displacement ripple yank both me and the chunk of marble back towards him. He closes that outstretched hand into a gauntleted fist, and panic rushes through me as I realize that the chunk of marble behind me will pancake me against his fist in a second.

Abandoning my plans for attack, I activate the quartet of runes I’d been keeping in the palm of my free hand. In an instant, I’ve exchanged positions with one of the bodies on the floor, and it’s one of the bodies of his own fighters that ends up folded over his fist, the marble chunk slamming into it with a grisly crunch.

After a second to consider this, he rotates his fist to the side, dumping the body off his fist as I scramble back to my feet. “Translocation runes. Very resourceful. You’re not merely a Mask Knight; you’re one of the Republic’s elite.” Opening his hand, runes flare around his wrist before solidifying into a hardlight staff with a grip down the center. “I suppose I will have to take this opportunity to do a quality assessment, and see what the newest generation of Masklings has to offer.”

So gimme one good reason

To play by the rules

The C-suite wrote ‘em

But we follow ‘em like fools

So they hold our strings—

‘Rules for thee, not for me’

I won’t play the game

You know I’d rather be free

You wanna be remembered?

Go down in history?

Or you wanna take the money

Become a mystery?

Just remember, when you go

To pay heaven’s toll

If you wanna get in

You gotta have a soul

Even though I’ve got a constant stream of power flowing through me, I find myself being pushed back by the big man’s attacks. It’s not just that he’s strong — he’s also adroit, in spite of his size; relentless and calculated. He uses that staff like he’s practiced with it for years, putting both ends of it to use as he uses it to block or deflect my hammer every time I swing it at him. And he doesn’t stop there; he immediately follows up with attacks of his own, quick and bruising strikes that threaten to knock me down or leave me breathless. Every time I try to pull runes off my wristmarks, he moves in and forces me to block his attacks with my hammer. And after I block a strike aimed for my stomach, he instantly reverses grip on his staff, swinging the other end of it around to nail me on the top of my head while it’s unprotected.

That sets my head ringing, and I lose my shit. I haven’t been able to use magic for the last half minute because he keeps interrupting me whenever I try, so the energy flowing over my link with Songbird has just been building up. Shouting with frustration, I take my hardlight hammer in both hands and swing it up in an overhead smash, funneling all of that backlogged power into the head of the hammer. It glows like a furious star, and the big man skips backwards as it comes down, letting out an explosive blast when it strikes the marble. The floor around me craters, and I will the leftover energy into a viridian barrier that streaks to the walls on either side, separating my side of the room from his.

“I cannot deny your power.” the big man says as he lowers his staff, and begins pacing his side of the barrier. “But it lacks precision. Discipline. Much of it is wasted.”

I let out a huff, bracing my hands on my knees. My head is still ringing after that whack to the head, and I can feel bruises forming in the other places where he’s landed hits. I can also sense Songbird’s concern, though it’s muted by the music that’s playing over our link; the power that’s already starting to build up again. “Who the hell are you?” I pant, aggravated by the fact that I’m being outclassed even when I’m being propped up by Songbird.

“Makalu. But even if you do not know my name, you know my works.” he answers. Behind him, the cutter machines have finished boring a circle around the dais, and a ring is starting to descend from the ship overhead, drifting down through the curtain of light. “I was one of the primary architects of the Cradle.”

I shove off my knees. “The Cradle? No, that would make you… you’d be three thousand years old. There’s no way.”

“I will admit I am spry for my age.” he says, lifting his staff to drag one end of it along the barrier, testing how strong it is. “Living this long is no small burden. But my duty is the same as it was then: the preservation of our people.”

“Yeah? Is that why you’re trying to steal one of the Fountains?” I demand. “Last time I checked, protecting our people didn’t involve attacking them.”

“I have need of this Fountain. I understand it is not ideal, but it will be serving the furtherance of our species.” Spreading runes down the length of his staff, he slams one end of it against the barrier, shattering it like glass. As the green shards start to dissolve, he steps forward, towering over me. “In time, you will see the fruits of our labors, and understand the sacrifices that had to be made. Until then, I ask that you stand aside, and trust that my followers and I only seek a better future for our people.”

“Yeah, well you’re not the only one that gets to decide what’s good for Masklings.” I say, gripping my hammer as I rear back for another swing. “I get a say in it too, and I say that you’re full of shit!”

(Whoa ho wooo, whoa ho wooo)

Not that it matters, but tell me

Where’d you get that nerve?

(Oh ho whooah)

Don’t tell me what I can’t do

Oh, if only you knew—

Let!

It!

Rip!

No time for fools or fakes!

Hold up, hold on, hold out

You know the stakes!

No no no!

Give me a good time

Bein’ poor shouldn’t be a crime!

You think you got what it takes?

Hold up, hold on, hold out

Don’t hit the brakes!

No no no!

Give me a good time

Havin’ fun ain’t a crime!

“Hey Valkyrie, if I could catch some help over here, that’d be great!” I shout, using the haft of my hammer to block a strike from Makalu’s staff. I’ve been trying to push him back with a strong offense, but he hasn’t yielded a single inch, and his ripostes have been crisp and merciless.

“I’m a little busy keeping your friends alive right now!” she shouts back. I can’t afford to look right at her at the moment, but out of the corner of my eye, I can see her by the wall tending to Cahriu.

“You at least have the sense to recognize you cannot win this fight on your own. It is a good start.” Makalu says while delivering a series of strikes that I struggle to block. “There is no shame in calling for help, though in your case, I’d venture to say that it’s an act of desperation, rather than an exercise in humility.”

“Do you— nnnf! Ah shit— do you usually lecture people while— ghhh!— while you’re beating them to death?” I retort, deflecting most of the staff strikes but still taking a hefty whack to the ribcage that sends me skidding across the floor a few feet. Even with the armored plating in my jacket, I still felt the impact from that one.

“No. It is a privilege reserved for a select few.” he says, maintaining the pressure as he closes the distance, feinting towards my legs before switching to a strike at my neck, which I block again with my hammer haft. “As a practical matter, it would’ve been easier to strike you down to prevent further disruption to the operation. But you pose no real threat to me, so I figured I’d humor your band of aspiring heroes and grant you the battle you so clearly crave.”

I shove away from his staff, trying to buy myself more time to circle around him. Up on the dais, the cloaks that we were fighting earlier are helping the remaining fighters lower the ring into place around the Fountain. “Oh, we’re no threat to you? I think your soldiers would disagree.”

At that mention, he takes the time to lean down, grabbing one of the prone bodies and throwing it towards the dais. “You are a threat to them. Not to me.” he says, runes spreading down the length of his staff as he advances towards me again. “I will give you and your friends credit for overwhelming my footsoldiers, and for managing to overcome my Sentinels. Your group clearly has potential. But you will need more than just aspiration; you need resolve, and yours is faltering.”

With that, he brings his staff up, and swings it down in an overhead strike. I bring my hammer up to block it, but the sheer force behind the strike shatters the handle between my hands. Staggering back, I use my runes to construct a quick arm-mounted shield, but there’s not enough time to put quality into it — it cracks on the next hit, and shatters on the hit after that. On instinct, I fire up my shoulder runes, forming them into hardlight wings and folding them in front of myself to block the next strikes, but there’s an overwhelming amount of force behind every blow — Makalu is obscenely strong, and I can’t keep this up forever.

But before the panic can set in, there’s an explosion that hits his back and forces him to stagger a step. The relentless strikes come to a stop as he turns about, and I see Songbird skidding back from Makalu, both of his starglass swords alight with prismatic fire. He’s still missing chunks of his face, but he must’ve burned enough blood to heal the damage to his spinal column.

“The Valiant don’t fold that easily.” he growls, lifting his swords into stance. “Square up, big guy. I’m tappin’ in for round two.”

And if we never make a difference

Well I suppose that’s fine

You can’t win ‘em all

But I’ll settle for a good time, so—

Let!

It!

Rip!

No time for fools and fakes!

Hold up, hold on, hold out

You know the stakes!

No no no!

Give me a good time

Bein’ poor shouldn’t be a crime!

You think you got what it takes?

Hold up, hold on, hold out

Don’t hit the brakes!

No no no!

Give me a good time

Havin’ fun ain’t a crime!

“Kiwi, up top!” Songbird shouts, throwing one of his swords up high while he’s fending off Makalu’s attacks. I kick off the ground, flaring my wings and flapping down to launch myself into the air. Catching the sword, I fold my wings in; Makalu spins in place, raising his staff to block my downwards slash, then shove me away, twisting back around in a clearing swing meant to keep Songbird back.

Neither of us let up, though; I lunge back in, and Songbird prowls around Makalu’s other side while he waits for an opening. We keep the pressure on him; whenever he turns to deal with one of us, the other one dives in and attacks, forcing him to keep turning this way and that. It’s enough for us to get hits in, and his tangerine armor, which had largely gone untouched until now, is starting to pick up chips and cracks as we strike it over and over again. The fact that we’re tangled makes it that much easier to work together; I can feel when Songbird’s about to dive, and vice versa. It allows us to time our attacks back to back to back, leaving Makalu with no time to rest between the two of us.

But he’s not helpless by any stretch of the imagination, and eventually changes things up, ignoring one of my attacks so he can wheel on Songbird right as he’s about to dive in. It catches Songbird off guard, and Makalu gets a hand around him, wheeling about and throwing him at me. I have to scramble to catch Songbird, and even then, I grunt as it sends both of us staggering backwards several feet. Songbird’s just barely managed to find his feet when Makalu points his staff towards us, a ring of runes flaring to life around the end of it.

“Oh crap.” I say, pulling Songbird against me and folding my glassy wings around both of us. A second later, a powerful bolt explodes against my wings, sending cracks through the hardlight feathers.

“This guy hits like a dump truck.” Songbird grunts, taking his sword back as I pass it to him. “And he’s built like one, too.”

“We can take him.” I say, slipping my arms under Songbird’s and sparking a little ball of green energy between my hands. It starts to grow as I feed everything into it that I’ve been holding onto for the past half minute or so. “I haven’t had a chance to cast a spell in the past thirty seconds and you got me overflowing.”

Songbird winces as another blast slams into my furled wings, the cracks spreading further. “We’re almost to the coda now, we’ll be running out of juice soon. You sure you wanna put it all in one basket?”

I throw my rune circles down my wrists to orbit around the growing ball of energy, grinning as I whisper in his ear. “Let’s risk it.”

“Goddamn… you know I can’t say no to the crazy whisper.” he huffs, turning off his starglass swords and hooking the hilts back on his beltline. With his hands freed up, he places them around the sphere as well, helping me cram more energy into it until it’s fizzing and sparking, throwing off unstable arcs of blue electricity. “After this next hit?”

“After this next hit.” I agree.

The next blast strikes a few seconds later, and this time, chips and pieces of my hardlight wings pop out of the cracked feathers, shaken loose by the impact. Unfurling my wings, Songbird and I let go of the resonating sphere; as soon as we do so, it goes tearing across the room, making a beeline for Makalu. He sees it coming, but only has enough time to turn and brace his shoulder towards it. The resulting detonation shakes the temple, a viridian fireball exploding through the center of the temple while arcs of blue electricity flicker and crackle through the darkening smoke.

“There’s no way he could’ve tanked that.” I say, pulling my arms from around Songbird and moving towards the thick, roiling plume of smoke. Bits of green fire burn on the edges, covering a wide area that marks the blast radius.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Songbird says as he keeps pace with me, keeping a hand on one of his hilts. We both stop at the edge of the blast radius, staring into the smoke and waiting for it to clear. “Everything else we were hitting him with barely shifted him. It’s been years since I’ve fought someone that sturdy.”

“And it’s been years since anyone’s hit me that hard.”

Songbird and I both take a step back at the voice, but it’s too late. Ripped, muscular arms shoot out from the smoke, tangerine runes glowing around the wrists as those thick hands grab both of us by our faces. I feel a pulse of something hit me — and it goes right through me, bounces down my link with Songbird, and bounces back again, zinging across the connection several times in quick succession, shocking us on every rebound. It only stops when the hands let go of us, and both of us drop to the floor, twitching and overloaded as Makalu steps out of the smoke.

“As I suspected. The two of you are tangled; I knew it should not be possible for a young Maskling to muster this kind of power alone.” he says as he stands over us in the shreds of his shirt. His hardlight armor has been blown off of him, and it seems like only his cargos and boots survived the explosion; his beard and grey hair are singed, and scorched marks are streaked over his torso, which is stacked like a brick wall. It looks like his shoulder is burned from where he braced it against the explosion, but otherwise he’s remarkably intact. “Yet even by the standards of tangling, this is exceptional. The connection you two share must be truly unique; and yet in the end, it is also your weakness. Together you rise, and together you fall; as one goes, so goes the other. That is the fatal flaw of tangling.”

“What did you do to us?” I gasp, still twitching and trying to get my arms and legs working again, but they’re only halfway responding when I try to move. From what I can see, Songbird is in the same boat.

“Feedback. The simplest and most effective way to stop a tangled pair in their tracks. A sensory overload, a deliberate misalignment of the threads that bind them together.” he says, stepping over us and bending over to start picking up the bodies of his fighters. “It will wear off eventually. But you two should not expect to be going anywhere, or fighting anyone, anytime soon.”

“If you think we’re just going to let you walk away from this—” Songbird pants from where he’s sprawled on the floor, still twitching and convulsing.

“You have lost, young man.” Makalu interrupts him, folding bodies over his arm like they’re dishtowels. “As much as that may sting, you need to accept it. Defeat is not optional; it is a part of life that everyone must confront at one point or another.”

“What are you going to do with the Fountain?” I demand, trying to get my arms underneath me so I can push myself up. “If you steal it, the Republic will send people after you. They won’t take this lying down.”

“I am versed in the ways of our people. They can chase if they want, but they will not find us.” Makalu says, draping another body over his shoulder. “I have passed centuries outside the purview of the Republic, as a matter of necessity. It is hard to get meaningful work done at any speed in a bureaucratic environment, and I only wish that I had realized that sooner. Outside of the Republic, I am able to act in the interest of my people without being constrained by their laws and politics.” He turns to me at this point, slinging another body over his other shoulder. “Something I am sure you understand, considering you are here not as a Mask Knight, but as one of the Valiant.”

I grit my teeth, glaring at him. “Who says I can’t be both?”

“You cannot serve two masters equally. Sooner or later, you will have to place one above the other.” he says, starting to march back to the Fountain. “I will be interested in seeing which one you choose.”

“Hey! You never told us what you were going to do with the Fountain!” Songbird shouts after him, but Makalu doesn’t acknowledge him, instead disappearing into the black smoke still swirling from our final attack.

We’re left with only crackle of flames and the occasional sound of something mechanical beyond the curtain of smoke, and I work on sitting up now that I’ve finally got my arms beneath me. Songbird has rolled over on his side, trying to push himself up, but a bassy thrum pulls our attention; there’s the sound of stone scraping over stone, and past the smoke, we can see that the Fountain is starting to rise into the air. The ring that descended earlier is clamped and locked onto the stone that forms the foundation; it must be equipped with a portable gravity drive. Makalu and his cloaked Sentinels are standing at the base of the Fountain, staring down at us as it ascends into the column of light descending from the ship above. The bodies of their fallen are piled beside them, and as we watch, one of the Sentinels turns and starts removing Masks from the faces of those that are dead.

“He can’t get away away with this.” I snarl, curling my hands into fists against the floor, and struggling upright. “Get your ass back here, old man, we’re not done—”

“Kiwi, wait!” Songbird warns, but it’s too late. I’m already snapping an arm to the side so I can raise another circle of runes from my wristmarks, but the wires in my head must still be misaligned. My wristmarks spit out a shower of green sparks as the pulse of magic bounces back up my arm and across my body at speed, and the feedback has me seizing up like I’m getting tased.

I guess it’s too much for my body to handle, because I don’t remember anything else after that.

Intercepted Communications

Xayrak DIRT Satellite (Cloaked)

10:09pm SGT

>Inbound request: Sunthorn Actual.

>>Status requested.

>>Diagnostic requested.

>>>Compiling report.

>>>…

>>>Report completed.

>>>>Recharged in: 43 hours, 21 minutes, 10 seconds

>>>>Visual Cloak: active

>>>>Orbit: geosynchronist

>>>>Recent Perimeter Violations: none

>>>>Current Order: hold position

>>>Transmitting report.

>>>…

>>Report transmitted.

>Returning to standby.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Xayrak: Temple Dorms

11/26/12764 12:54am SGT

I’m in the middle of checking my blood flask when I hear the mattress behind me creak, and I look around to see that Kiwi’s woken up.

“Mmnnnhah… Feroce? Where are we?” she asks, squinting and trying to push herself up. “Oh gods, my head…”

“Take it easy there, boss. Lay back down.” I say, screwing the lid back onto my flask and setting it aside as I move over to the bed she’s on. The room we’re in is small and compact, not dissimilar to the crew bunks on a ship — just a couple of beds and a dresser drawers in the walls, a room meant only for sleeping and changing clothes. “You’ve been out cold for the last six hours. You didn’t realize you were running on an empty tank when you tried to pop another set of runes, so you tried to pull energy from me — and since the feedback still hadn’t worn off, it got messy when it came through our link. Knocked you out and almost took me down too.”

“I was wondering what happened.” she grimaces, holding her head. “This headache is killing me.”

“Yeah. It was doing the same to me a few hours ago.” I say, sitting down on the edge of her bed and picking up the glass of water on her bedside, along with the pill there. “Valkyrie told me you’d probably have a headache when you woke up, so she told me to give you this, and also said you needed to eat something with it, or it would make you nauseous.”

“Anything to take away the pounding.” she mumbles, taking the pill and using the water to down it in a single go. “Anything to eat?”

I offer her granola bar. “Temple staff gave us access to their kitchen. They’ve been real helpful.”

She takes the granola bar, looking around the small room we’re in. “You still haven’t told me where we are.”

“One of the dorm rooms in the temple. They’re letting us stay in the spare rooms they have until the Narcusa gets here.” I explains as she starts to unwrap it. “Makalu and his ship have left the planet. The planetguard was able to use Xayrak’s satellites to get the ship’s exit heading, but there’s no vessel here that could pursue and engage them. All the starships here are either civilian or system defense craft.”

“Shit.” she exhales, running a hand through her hair. “They got away with the Fountain.”

“Yeah, they did.” I agree reluctantly. “The temple staff weren’t too happy about that. They seem to be at a loss for what to do now that it’s gone.”

“Well, yeah. The Fountain was the whole reason there was a temple here.” Kiwi says, taking a bite of the granola bar. “We don’t just build temples for kicks and giggles; we always put them around sacred sites. Without the Fountain of Souls, there’s no reason to have a temple here.”

“And we still don’t know what he plans on doing with it.” I say, puffing out a breath. “Do you have any ideas about what he could do with it?”

She shakes her head, then winces, probably because of the headache. “I mean, something, I guess, I dunno. This headache’s got me all sorts of screwed up. I could prolly throw some theories out there once I can think straight again, but honestly, I just… I have no idea right now.”

“Fair enough.” I nod, grabbing another granola bar and handing it to her as she finishes the first one. “Everyone else is beat up, but they’re alive. Valkyrie’s gotten everyone’s injuries sorted out, and they’re resting in other dorm rooms. Once Makalu’s ship left, the comms were unjammed, so Valkyrie and I called up Sunthorn and gave our report on what happened. Forecast didn’t seem too happy with the outcome, but once we told him about the Makalu guy, he got this tone in his voice like he believed we would’ve gotten our asses beat no matter who we ended up sending.”

Kiwi pauses at that. “So he knows Makalu.” she says after a moment.

“Knows him, or knows of him. He recognized the name, I could tell that much.” I say, leaning my arms on my knees. “Drill said they’d be using the DIRT network to send the rest of our deployment in a couple days, along with all the equipment we’ll need for the missions ahead of us. We’ll work on recovering and helping out with disaster response here on Xayrak while we wait for the Narcusa to arrive. When it gets here, we’ll pack up and move to the next mission.”

“Demon’s Eyes will probably try to track Makalu. Figure out where he’s gotten off to.” Kiwi mutters around a mouthful of granola. “Hopefully they can find him, so we can run him down when we get the chance.”

“I’ve heard that name thrown around a couple times.” I say. “Is it a group within the Maskling government, or…?”

“Demon’s Eyes? They’re the Republic’s intelligence and surveillance service.” she replies, crumpling up the wrapper and throwing the papery husk in the recycling bin. “They do all the spying, handling the deep cover and sleeper agents we have across the galaxy, and basically all of the espionage, sabotage, blackmail, covert ops… all that sort of stuff. Venox, you remember him? He’s one of the Eyes. Tony would technically be one of the Eyes as well.”

“Ah, okay. Yeah, that makes sense.” I say, offering her a third granola bar.

She shakes her head, letting out a sigh. “This just sucks. Our first real mission as the Valiant, and we get our asses handed to us. I hope the rest of the missions don’t end up like this.”

“I don’t think they will.” I say, putting the granola bar back in the bag. “I’ve been thinking about how everything went down, and we basically had it handled until Makalu got involved. And when he did, we gave it everything we had, and he still smacked us around like ragdolls. Even Tarocco, who was, uh… not something I would’ve expected to see smacked around in that form.”

Her eyes flit towards me. “Right. That’s the first time you’ve seen Tarocco’s combat form, isn’t it.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s really strong. Normally she can mop up squads of enemies on her own when she’s in that form.” She turns on the bed, swinging her legs out over the edge. “It just sucks. I hate losing.”

I don’t exactly know what to say to that. She’s right, it sucks to lose. But I think failing this mission hurts more for her than it does for me, because it was supposed to help her people, to protect something that was important to her species, to her culture. That kind of defeat has more of a sting because it feels personal, and hits closer to home.

And since I don’t know what to say, I instead reach over, cupping a hand around the back of her neck. When she glances at me, I give her a rueful smile. “Sometimes you do the best you can, and you still lose. That’s not failure; that’s just life, and life isn’t fair. But it doesn’t make you any less of a person for not succeeding when you give it your all.”

She studies me with those wildfire eyes, mouth twisting a little as if she doesn’t like the words, even though she knows there’s some truth in them. After a moment, she hangs a hand on my arm, and rests her cheek against my wrist. “S’ppose you’re speaking from experience.” she murmurs.

“I’ve got a long history in that department.”

“You handle it more gracefully than I do.” she sighs again, pressing a light kiss to the inside of my wrist. “You smell… clean. Did you get a shower?”

“Once things slowed down, yeah. The showers aren’t far from the dorms, if you’d like to go grab one.”

“I wanna get clean, yeah. Still covered in rubble dust and I smell like smoke and blood and sweat.” she says, looking around. “Ah, right. We got sent here without our luggage, so I don’t have any clean clothes to change into…”

“It’ll be coming over on the next DIRT deployment, along with everyone else.” I say, reaching over to grab a folded set of temple robes from the top of the wardrobe. “Until then, the temple staff had a few changes of uniform we can wear. Not as comfortable as pajamas, but it’s clean clothes we can wear while we’re putting our clothes through the wash.”

“I suppose that’s not too bad.” she says, taking the folded set and standing up. “Showers are…?”

“Left, then a right, then the door on the right. It’s late at night, so you won’t be competing for an available stall.”

“Alright.” she says, heading for the door. She pauses on her way past me, thumb brushing over my cheek as her fingers lift my chin a little.

“Yes?” I ask, staring up at her.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, studying me with those bright, orange-red eyes. “Nothing. It’s just nice looking at you sometimes.”

I don’t know what to say to that; I don’t know if it’s a compliment, or a statement of opinion, or both. What I do know is that she’s holding me with her eyes, and I don’t want her to stop. Eventually, she presses her thumb to my nose and squishes it a little, smiling as she does so. “Boop.”

I smile back at her. “Go get your shower, starfreckle.”

She sticks her tongue out at me on her way to the door. “Keep the bed warm for me, bluebird. All these bruises won’t mix well with cold blankets.”

The door closes behind her with that, leaving me alone in the dimly lit room. Looking around, I run a hand over the covers, then lay back on the bed, getting comfortable and staring up at the ceiling. Despite playing it down, I mostly agreed with Kiwi. Today sucked; we’d gotten a pretty thorough assbeating, and had nothing to show for it besides a lot of bruises and broken equipment. Normally I’d be pretty sulky about it, but Kiwi was already bummed out, probably more than I would be. I didn’t see any point in contributing to a negative feedback loop — if she was already discouraged, I might as well play the angel’s advocate and balance out some of the pessimism. Still, even I had to face the facts.

You couldn’t win ‘em all.