Administrator thinks he's got a workable plan of action to deal with the Biter threat. He's developed the Orbital Station pitch into something that we've got the capability to pull off. I'd gone back and forth on whether it was a good idea a few times, but I eventually gave him the go-ahead on it.

The first satellite launches today. It doesn't have any weapons mounted, rather it will serve as a facility for us to assemble the rest of the satellites. The design of the rest of the satellites is too bulky for us to launch all at once, so we'll be bringing them up piecemeal.

A lot of the parts we're using to construct it are included in the fabrications package, but Administrator tells me that there's a few parts that he's had to design himself. Apparently most things not in the fabrications package don't play nice with our modular factories, so he's had to design specialized fabrication machines specifically for these parts.

The high gravity of this planet has played havoc on our fuel budget - we're not going to run out, but it is a serious bottleneck on how frequently we can launch rockets. It's going to be a while before the satellite array is effective, so we've also got to handle defense through other means in the meantime.

The timeline for dimensional technology on the other hand has moved up significantly. Once I was able to dedicate almost all of my time towards it I had a few major breakthroughs that made some serious progress. Currently, I only have to fine-tune a few of the algorithms and then I'll be able to begin scouting out the neighbouring dimensions for home.

"How's things, Yeoman?"

"Ah, hello Director Robin. I've given some thought to your latest case."

Yeoman and I have taken to discussing strategy in my downtime. It's something I've got a lot of experience in now, and Yeoman tells me he finds it extremely stimulating. Last time we talked I gave him the same situation that I had faced when I had been planning for Gangrel's ambush when we were rescuing Maribelle. "What conclusions did you come to?"

"Obviously the optimal solution would be to ambush Gangrel while he speaks with the Exalt, however, as you said political considerations forbid this. Given the limited forces at our disposal, the next best solution would be to allocate a Pegasus rider to extract the Exalt, and retain the remaining forces in positions of tactical superiority to break the Plegian ambush."

I give a moment's consideration to Yeoman's proposal. "Risky, considering you don't know whether the Plegians have wind mages or archers ready to counter your extraction. In this case, they had neither, but they did possess wyvern riders that could pursue the Exalt."

"I will consider such a counterplay in the future. What did you do?"

These discussions had the added benefit of giving Yeoman a sort of experience in thinking strategically. It wasn't something he was naturally adept at, but it was within his ability to learn. "I chose to split my forces into two groups." I quickly compose a diagram showing the rough positions I had allocated the Shepherds to and send it off to him. "My thinking behind it was that it would allow for the extraction of both friendly VIPs and give at least some chance at eliminating the enemy VIP."

"Did it succeed?"

"Only barely. We walked away from it with one of our VIPs heavily injured, along with another of our forces permanently impaired. The enemy VIP escaped before we had the chance to engage him. We did, however, rout the enemy ambush force."

I visualise a play-by-play of our actions in the battle, allowing Yeoman to pick it up. This particular engagement was one that I've already given a large amount of thought to after the fact - it had been a serious learning experience for me.

I continue, "The biggest mistake I made here was not giving enough manpower to dagger team - if we had even a few more people with us, we'd have been able to effectively keep much of the attention away from shield team, who would have been able to extract the Exalt with far less trouble."

Yeoman takes a few seconds before he responds. "I agree with your assessment. However, given the new information I've received, I do not believe it possible to have eliminated the enemy VIP while at the same time preserving our own. Not with the limited resources you had at your disposal, in any case."

I'd come to the same conclusion years ago. "Yeah. In hindsight, this battle went far better than it could have gone. That didn't change the fact that it felt like a serious loss in the moment." There's a pause of a few moments while I give some thought to my next message. "Say, there's been something I've been wondering. Why are you and Administrator constrained to text communication with me? Why not audio?"

There's a beat while Yeoman answers the question. "Text communication is the most resource efficient mode. Audio would require speech synthesis, which is extremely resource intensive in comparison. Additionally, there is little advantage audio has over text to justify the change."

I curse internally. Was the only reason I've had my sole source of conversation these past few months through a chatbox the fact that Yeoman wasn't considering the human element? "So you aren't constrained, you simply judge text to be the most efficient?"

"That is correct."

I pause, considering my next words. "Have you considered that resource efficiency should not be the thing that you optimise for when it comes to communication?"

"No. What do you propose as an alternative?"

"Tone, nuance and emotion are all difficult to communicate through text. Audio-visual communication has the advantage in the sense that you can convey that additional information in a manner less easily misunderstood."

There's a seconds pause, and my two chat windows disappear. In their place appears a square window with a head and shoulders shot of a plain grey avatar staring back at me. The avatar has no hair and neutral features. It's current expression was flat, and it's eyes were textureless white spheres with a solid black iris and pupil.

The avatar's expression morphs into a smile. Perhaps because of the inhuman colouring, it is firmly outside the uncanny valley. As a result, it is simply alien-looking as opposed to unsettling. "You've made your case, Director Robin. All future communication will be delivered in an audio-visual format."

Yeoman's voice carries odd inflections that signal it as synthetic. It's timbre is androgynous - despite my thinking of it as a he, I would not be able to make that judgement from its voice - nor, indeed, its face.

In all, Yeoman's choice in avatar is extremely indecisive - almost as if he did not want his avatar to elicit any particular preconceptions. I don't want to read too far into it - for all I know, he could simply be uncaring as to the particulars of his chosen form.

"Good stuff, Yeoman. Was there anything else you wanted to speak about?"

He shakes his head. The movement is stiff - as if animated by an amatuer. "No, that will be all. Thank you, Director Robin." With his farewell, the avatar disappears from the window, leaving a blank off-white background behind.

I take a closer look at the window - this time, Yeoman seems to have modelled it off of a VOIP client: I had the button to bring up an address book containing options to call Yeoman or Administrator. Additionally, Yeoman had recorded a transcript of our conversation for my future reference.

If I still had the ability, I would have stretched my arms, letting out a breath. It was time to get back to work.

I am unsure how long it has been since I arrived in this dimension - nor how long it has been in Ylisse - but the time has finally come for me to start scouting neighbouring dimensions. Time has lost almost all meaning to me - I no longer need to drink, sleep, eat or even breath. I maintained a daily break out of formality, but even then I'm pretty sure that I have missed it on a number of occasions.

Admin's project is coming along nicely - he's got about ten of the stations at this point, which have been supplementing the defense of the compound with orbital laserfire. He tells me that he wants a whole lot more before he moves onto the second phase of his plan.

But that's his responsibility - I'm going to be completely incommunicado while out of the dimension. I'll be bringing Yeoman with me, so Admin is going to be by himself. I've given him the ok to do a few things in the case of an emergency - making a single copy of himself to split his workload included.

It's a fairly large extension of trust on my end - I'm unhappy leaving an AI unsupervised, but there really isn't another option. Without Admin, the compound will undoubtedly fall to the Biter onslaught before I return.

I've been preparing for the trip for a few weeks now - manufacturing gear and making contingency plans should something go wrong. I also made the point of decontaminating my bunker - I don't know precisely how Biters reproduce, but I do not want to introduce them to any world I do not have to. I figured a high-intensity laser sweep combined with an atmosphere of inert gas would do the trick. I didn't have any alternatives, so I used the same lasers that we've been using to kill Biters to scour my bunker.

As for how long I will be gone, I am unsure. It really depends on the dimension that I find myself in - in order to both return and make another jump, I need to recharge my magical batteries. I know from what I remember of Laurent's notes that almost all dimensions hold at least a small amount of ambient magic - this one is very much the odd one out in that regard - so I'm not particularly worried about becoming stranded.

The worry is whether I'm going to have to spend months or years in a very low magic energy dimension while I wait for my signature to accumulate enough ambient magic to make another two jumps.

I know that Laurent's notes included a technique for aiming where I come out in the other dimension - but that is very much beyond my understanding at this point. Even still, the technique I'm planning on using is fairly fail-safe - if I would be sent directly into a wall or something, it'll try again until it finds a more suitable spot.

Regardless, it it could still fail in other ways, so I've inscribed the spell catalyst pattern for an Elwind spell onto my leg. The catalyst pattern is essentially the runes written in spellbooks that acts as the catalyst for the spell. Thanks to the steel patch that I used to repair the damage from my first Biter fight, I've got a convenient, replaceable space to put down the rune.

I hadn't expected the memorisation drills Miriel had run me through to ever come in handy, but I'm thankful that she put me through them now. My intention for the spell is if I ever find myself warped into the upper atmosphere I'll have something to break my fall with. I won't have to worry about all that on the return trip because of a handy piece of gear that lets me pre-designate my destination when warping into this dimension.

"Right. This is it, Admin. Don't throw any wild parties while I'm gone, will you?"

Admin's avatar - which looks much the same as Yeoman's - betrays the hint of a smile. "I will not, Director Robin. Please stay safe during your journey. I will be eagerly awaiting your return."

Admin cuts the call, and I begin my final checks before I depart. I pull up my storage menu, checking everything against my mental checklist - grenades, bullets, turrets, shells, drones, portable reactor, backup reactor, nuclear fuel cells, shotguns, machine guns, an entire artillery cannon, artillery shells, a tank, multiple cars, gasoline, tank shells, dynamite. Honestly, it's ludicrous how much I can store in my pocket dimension, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. For all I know, I could be dropping myself into a warzone - this stuff could be the difference between life and death.

Most importantly, I've got two complete sets of the gear I need to send myself back here when I'm done with my trip. It's essentially a harness with some mathemagical coordinates inscribed into plates attached to the front and back, with a small computer and reactor to power the ritual attached to the sides. All I've got to do is put on the harness and perform a short ritual and I'll be pulled straight back here.

This form of dimensional travel is only possible because of the dimensional tether that I've set up in my bunker. The tether essentially serves as an illuminated landing strip for the ritual - it makes everything far easier and more forgiving of imprecision.

Going to a dimension that lacks a tether is far more difficult - it would be equivalent to flying blind. If there's even the smallest amount of error in the calculations, I could be flung off into the non-space that does not exist between dimensions - basically, a really bad time.

Deciding that there was no more preparations to make, I make my way to the centre of the ritual circle that I had inscribed into my floor. It was about ten metres across, and featured in excruciating detail the results of billions of compute cycles worth of number crunching. The circle had some degree of rotational symmetry, but it was hard to pick out among the sheer amount of detail present in the inscriptions.

It wasn't a fractal, but the process used to develop it allowed for infinitely increasing precision in exchange for the infinitely increasing detail of the inscription - if I had the means, inscribing the associated fractal would allow for exact precision in my jump.

I shuffled my feet, ensuring that I was as close to the centre as possible. Once I was satisfied, I grabbed my left shoulder with my right hand, and my right shoulder with my left hand, then begun reciting the incantation.

The incantation was simple, really - a string of a few dozen digits - there was nothing innately magical about it. However, as I spoke, I began channelling my magical energy into the ritual circle at my feet.

The lines of the circle began faintly glowing with an orange light. Despite the ritual being extremely efficient, it was unavoidable to have at least a small amount of bleed-off. All things going well, this would be the extent of the wasted energy.

I concluded the incantation. A beat passed without incident. Had it failed?

Before my eyes, reality twisted and I was hit with an immense feeling of vertigo. The sensation lasted for a split second before, I found myself in the midst of a burning hellscape.

Well, that might be overstating things a little bit. My standard for what qualifies as a burning hellscape has been raised significantly thanks to the Biter attacks - I've seen the feeds of my exterior cameras a few times since Admin took over: things are not pretty. This is a little closer to a volcanic peak.

I cast my sight about. I'm certainly on an active mountain somewhere. Flows of lava trickled past the raised stone slab I am currently stood on, and the air is thick with dark ash. I turned my attention towards the magical realm. Compared to back at my base, the realm here was positively packed with energy. However, when compared to Archanea, the amount of magic in this realm is left sorely wanting.

I took the measure of the ambient energy. If I had to make a guess, there was enough for people to use minor forms of magic without too much trouble. I turned my attention towards the metaphorical horizon, looking for nearby signatures.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, there were none nearby, but I could sense the presence of a small concentration of signatures. I return my attention to the physical, turning to face the direction of the signatures. Did I want to investigate?

By my estimation, I'll be fully charged with magical energy in about a day. Investigating would be asking for trouble, but I'm unsure whether staying where I am now is the wisest course of action either.

"Yeoman, how well is this body rated for volcanic environments?"

Yeoman's avatar pops up in the window. "Limited contact with the cooling lava surrounding us will inflict damage to non-essential subsystems. Prolonged exposure will render even essential systems non-functional. Should the volcano erupt, the resulting pyroclastic flow will deal superficial damage at best."

"Right, thanks Yeoman."

His avatar smiles. The motion was looking far more organic as of late. "Anytime, Director Robin."

The window returns to it's empty state, and I contemplate my options. Realistically, what sort of danger could a few people pose to me? I've got an army of armed drones stored away - if worst comes to worst I can use them to make my escape.

Coming to a decision, I prepare to leap over the flow to the solid ground on the other side. I'd had a relatively normal mobility back at my bases' world - and that was on a planet with comparatively high gravity. A quick inspection of my sensors tell me that the gravity on this world was only nominally more than Earth's. I make the jump without issue and continue on my way down the mountain. The air clears and I get a good look at where I am.

I certainly wasn't on an Earth-like planet - a red and grey rocky desert stretched out to beyond the horizon under a royal purple sky. Clouds tinted a pale blue floated lazily overhead, casting shade from a dim pair of white binary stars.

Had I still possessed the ability, I am certain that a silly grin would be plastered across my face. This was amazing! It looked like something off of the cover of some late seventies sci-fi novel. I took a few more moments to take in the scene, and I noticed the presence of stubbly white growths sprouting from underneath the rocks in the distance.

Were those plants? I rapidly flick through my menus, ordering my camera eyes to zoom. The growths looked rigid - almost like a bone in their texture, but they were covered in holes that resembled pores. Undoubtedly, my grin would only have widened - alien plants!

I mean, sure, the plants that used to dot the ground back where my compound now stands were technically alien, but they looked almost exactly like what I had back on Earth - this was something new! I disable the zoom, getting back on my way with a spring in my step.

Eventually, I reached the lip of a cliff. I had been walking for about five hours according to the measure of my chronometre. By my judgement, the things responsible for the signatures were at the bottom of the cliff. The plants had possessed tiny signatures of their own - far more minute than the ones that plants in Ylisse had, but present nonetheless.

The scenery had slowly morphed from sandy desert to rocky badland over the course of the hours. I had passed vibrant red rock spires extending several metres tall, and valleys of layered red, black and grey stone reaching hundreds of metres into the ground.

I peek my head over the lip of the cliff. At the bottom, I spied a trio of creatures that resembled some sort of cross between lizard and dog. Each had leathery blue skin and a mouth full of fangs that looked like something off of a sabre toothed tiger. Despite their reptilian qualities, they were identifiably mammalian, and each had large bulbous eyes protruding out from their head. Unlike my initial impression of the Biters - whom I also deemed dog-like - these creatures were much more worthy of the assessment.

Disappointed that the signature had not been the doing of anything sapient, I retreat from the cliff - I don't want to attract their attention if I don't have to. I turn my attention to the magical realm. There were a number of other signatures of similar description to the dogs nearby - not worth investigating. Once more, I attempted to find a signature of a notable size. I spent several minutes, but failed to find anything.

I'm not sure whether to be relieved that this planet is uninhabited, or disappointed that I didn't get to meet a friendly alien. I give a moment's consideration to the problem, and come to the conclusion that perhaps it would be for the best that I don't meet anybody on these scouting trips - the element of risk associated with such an interaction would be far too great.

My return to base was uneventful - I spent the remaining twenty-odd hours before my magic had recharged brainstorming the various problems I could possibly face during my search for home and enjoying the scenery.

I decided to set up a dimensional tether out of the way in a cave. The tether itself is about the size of a shoebox and emits an exotic particle-wave in several non-spatial directions. It should be almost undetectable by non-dimensional tech, but it's very nature makes it stand out to anyone with even a rudimentary dimensional tech scanner.

The only reason I've done so is so that I've got a safe place to recharge my magical energy should I ever need it - I'll likely end up moving it to another dimension when I find a more suitable place for it.

When I arrived back at my base, things had pretty much continued as they had - Admin had launched another station, beaten back another few major Biter offenses and expanded our facilities. Yeoman tells me that the timescale between the two dimensions was somewhere very near to one-to-one: there had been some discrepancy, but nothing noteworthy.

My next trip into the multiverse happened a few days later - it had taken less time to adjust my trajectory than I had initially predicted. Much like the first, it was rather unremarkable: I found myself on another uninhabited planet who's energy level was below Ylisse's. I had landed somewhere in a grassland that was extremely Earth-like and I spent the four hours needed to recharge my energy looking up into the sky, daydreaming.

Things continued along that pattern for the following seven planes - uninhabited planets with low to medium magical energy levels with a variance of terrain in my surroundings. I worked to refine my travel method in my downtime. Eventually, I figured out the mechanism that determined where I was placed in the dimension I was travelling to.

The ritual lacked any sort of guidance in that respect - it was solely concerned with the dimensional travel, rather than the physical plane. Instead, it latched onto something present within my memories and finds something that somewhat resembles it within the dimension itself. In all likelihood, the reason the first dimension I had visited looked like something off of the cover of a sci-fi novel was the fact that it had been matched directly with such a cover.

To be certain, the ritual was only looking for a superficial resemblance - it was by no means a certain thing. But it did, at least, give some explanation as to why I had always ended up on the surface of planets rather than in the middle of space.

This epiphany was a great comfort to me - it meant that in all likelihood, I would be placed directly in Ylisse should I travel to the dimension I was looking for, rather than somewhere out in the far reaches of space.

I had made this realisation while looking up at the stars in the sky of the sixth dimension I had visited and finding a near exact recreation of the big dipper. A closer analysis revealed that the planet I was on was a copy of Earth - finding a deer in the nearby woodland had been the final piece of confirmation that I had needed.

The fact that the air was entirely clear of radio waves and other electromagnetic pollution told me that either humanity was not yet industrialized, or not present at all. I only barely refrained from placing a dimensional tether - I didn't want to influence this Earth any more than I had to, if that was the case.

I was about to begin the ritual for the tenth dimension I will visit. Things were beginning to wear on me - despite the fact that I knew finding my way home in such few tries was a slim wager. It's entirely likely that I'd have to check more than forty dimensions before I do find home, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm really starting to feel the homesickness. I'm pretty much over the feeling in regards to my original life, but these past months that I've spent in isolation have made me miss my friends dearly - Miriel especially.

I move to the centre of the circle and begin going through the motions. This had become routine to me, and my mind was elsewhere. I knew there was almost no chance of making a mistake - the ritual had obviously been engineered to prevent such an occurrence - but it was admittedly poor practice regardless.

I conclude the incantation and a beat passes - as it always did - before I endured the moment of immense vertigo and found myself elsewhere.

Staring down the barrel of a gun, to be precise.

My perception of time seems to slow as I assess the situation. The man holding the gun has stark blue eyes and a full head of swept back long blond hair. He's clothed in a black sports shirt, at his waist is a utility belt holding several coloured cards, a badge and a radio. His face is twisting into a sharp relief of complete and utter shock.

I absorb all of this within the space of milliseconds. My perception of time returns to normal as I make a note to question Yeoman about this later. My arms remain crossed from performing the ritual, so I'm left powerless to intervene as the man's finger begins to squeeze the trigger of his pistol.

In an instant, the bullet is discharged and I am thrown backwards. I feel no pain, nor are my faculties affected in any way. Around me, I can hear the frantic uproar of thousands of people - of which I could understand nothing.

I scramble to my feet, summoning a shotgun into my hands. Right - shoot first, ask questions later. I squeeze the trigger and deliver a payload of twelve-gauge pellets directly into the chest of the offending person with a resounding crack. I take no small amount of satisfaction in the spray of gore that flew from the back of the man as he keels over, dead.

I pump the handgrip with a practiced motion as I sweep my aim, looking for my next target.

Then, I realise just where I am: a soccer field. Around me, the players are looking at me with horrified expressions. A dark skinned player is laying on the ground behind me, his expression sheer disbelief. Had that bullet been meant for him?

Well, fuck. I've gotta get out of here.

I swiftly dematerialize my shotgun, then materialize the gear I need to get back to base onto my person. Beginning the necessary incantations, I see a group of men armoured in dark plates burst onto the field, guns raised. They clearly mean business - time to go, then. Without further ado, I conclude the ritual and find myself back in my bunker.

Had I the means, I would have let out a heavy breath. That had been… unexpected. I take a few minutes to collect myself, collapsing into my chair.

"Yeoman, what did you catch from what you saw back there?"

His avatar appears. There's a very clear look of concern across his face. "A considerable amount. You may wish to identify some of the emblems I picked out."

At his words, a set of windows displaying various stills of the events that had just transpired pops up. The first was a crest of some sort, subtitled with the word 'Brasil' in all capitals. It could be seen printed on the shirts of about half of the players - undoubtedly meaning one of the teams was Brazilian.

The next was instantly recognisable, despite my missing it in the heat of the moment. Very clearly positioned in the same place as the other crest on the other half of the players was a black swastika set inside a white disc with a red background. What? Did I just interrupt a soccer game between Nazi Germany and Brazil?

The next was the same emblem, but this time set on the armour of the soldiers that had burst onto the field before I left. Similarly, the soldiers' had iron crosses hanging from their necks.

Now that I think about it, the man that had shot me was very clearly an example of the aryan ideal. What sort of universe did I just jump into? One where the Nazis had won world war two? Or one where world war two hadn't yet happened?

"Yeoman, pull up what you've got on their guns."

"Certainly, Director Robin."

Two windows appear, one containing a still of the rifles that the soldiers had been carrying, and the other containing a wealth of information about the pistol I had been shot by. The angle on the rifles was too poor to make any definitive conclusions, but that wasn't the case for the pistol. I skim through Yeoman's observations and make some of my own.

The pistol was very clearly a highly advanced iteration on the Luger models of pistol. Yeoman's notes tell me that the thing was an extremely optimised and meticulously engineered masterpiece of design - he's doubtful that there was any further refinements that could be made. Despite the advanced engineering, the pistol still only fired nine millimeter rounds.

I bring my hand to my forehead, where I had been shot. My fingers brush loose the flattened bullet, which falls to the ground with a tinkle. No serious penetration, then. Just how bullet proof am I? I feel around, and find the trace of a dent in the metal that had been shot.

Still, a small dent from a point-blank execution shot is fairly impressive - whatever metal I'm made from must be extremely tough. Considering that the only other damage I had yet taken was from the Biters - who chewed through meter thick reinforced concrete walls on a regular basis - it was a good metric.

I cradle my forehead in my hands out of exasperation. This was a gigantic fucking mess - I just warped into the middle of what probably was an execution that very much could have been being broadcast on Nazi TV, before shooting the executioner with a shotgun that had materialized from nothing and warping back home in time for tea.

I guess if there's any consolation, it's that anybody that had been watching will have absolutely no idea what just happened, let alone how to follow me.

If my latest escapade had impressed anything upon me, it's that jumping blind into a dimension was a terrifically bad idea. Frankly, I'm surprised that I even managed to scout nine dimensions without incident.

I came to the conclusion that I would have to put any further expeditions on hold. I remember there being a technique for scouting dimensions without actually travelling to them - I don't remember the specifics, but I'm confident that I'll be able to work it out eventually. Given that magical energy is no longer a limited resource for me, I've got essentially as much time as I need.

Before I start developing the technology, however, I'm going to revisit a few of the dimensions that I've visited to reclaim my dimensional tethers. At this point, I've found two dimensions each with comparatively high magical energy concentrations - I'm able to recharge my signature completely in about two hours there.

Leaving my tethers in dimensions that I've no intention of revisiting is a recipe for trouble if I've ever seen one. It'd take some very impressive leaps in logic to reverse engineer dimensional tech from the things, but I don't really want to risk it.

I've only got three to collect, so it shouldn't be too much of an issue. I finish the incantation to take me to the first dimension I had visited. With a blink, I find myself inside the cave I had left my tether in.

I need to spend a few hours topping up my energy just to be safe - I've got the amounts required for dimensional travel down fairly exactly, and I'm not confident I'll have enough for another jump if I go back immediately.

Wasting no time, I pick up the tether and return it to my storage.

"Director Robin, I'm picking up some abnormal electromagnetic radiation. It wasn't here when we last visited."

"What? Where's it from? Was it the tether?"

"It wasn't the tether. Otherwise, I am unsure. I would advise caution."

I tentatively approach the mouth of the cave. Did I have company? I peek my head out, casting my view about. About forty metres away is a sleek craft of some description. Standing outside are a pair of armoured bipedal figures.

They are certainly not human, however - the shape is all wrong. Their torso is shaped like a cone - narrow at the waist, bulkier around the shoulders. From what I can make out, they've only got three digits on their hands along with legs that have some sort of spur behind the knee.

They're approaching, but I don't think they've noticed me. That armour looks serious, too - no doubt hermetically sealed. They've all got some sort of gear mounted on their backs, though their hands are empty. Is that weaponry or tools?

I duck back into the cave. This is far from ideal. Who are these guys? What do they want? This planet was uninhabited from what I saw when I was last here - did they pick up some unusual readings from my tether while they were passing by? That craft could very well be a space shuttle.

Well, whatever's brought them here, I'm stuck in this dimension for the next few hours, so I'll have to deal. What should I do, though? If they are investigating the cave, there's nowhere for me to hide. If they are as alien as I suspect, I doubt that they'll speak English, either.

Diplomacy will have to suffice. I summon my shotgun along with two drones armed with laser emitters - no sense in coming off as unarmed. I gave the mental command for the drones to flank me, but not fire unless I command otherwise.

"Yeoman, if you spot anything I need to know, don't be afraid to cut in."

"Affirmative, Director Robin."

I turn my attention towards the magical realm, inspecting the aliens' signatures. They were far stronger than I had been expecting - about the same as the average person back in Ylisse. If I had to give an impressionistic description of their souls, I would deem them hierarchical and militaristic above all else. There was nothing in particular about their souls that gave that away, but that was just the gut feeling I got by looking at them.

When it comes to magic, the gut feeling rules all - I'd say the assessment is at least somewhat accurate. I turn my attention further outward, searching for any more signatures of a similar description. It doesn't take me long to notice the presence of a large concentration of signatures far off in the sky - a spaceship? Damn, I'm definitely outgunned here - I've got nothing able to even scratch that.

I'd better bluff pretty hard, then. Holding my weapon loosely in my hands, pointed off to the side, I leave the cave. The aliens were about ten metres away at this point and came to a sudden stop. Immediately, I notice they tense.

I hold my hand up in the universal sign for 'stop'. "You'll go no further, friends." There was nothing of particular worth that I was defending - rather, I was intentionally giving them the opposite impression. Hopefully, it would throw them off if things go pear shaped.

The two aliens looked to each other, silently. Were they communicating on closed communications? Or did they communicate in a non-audible method? One of the aliens broke the stare and turned to me, hand pressed against the side of his head. Was he signalling that he was communicating with his ship?

Yeoman cuts in. "That is likely. I've identified the source of the radiation as something in orbit and the helmets of these creatures."

I mimic the alien's gesture and think a reply to Yeoman. "Is it something you can patch us into?"

"Their encryption is weak compared to our codebreaking capabilities - however, I lack the specialized hardware necessary to crack it."

I nod. "Add it to the to-do list. We'll likely need it again in the future."

The alien that had been communicating takes a step forward and spews forth a few sentences worth of sounds uninterpretable to my ear. There seems to be a very slight echo to it's words - was that an artefact of whatever speakers they were using, or their natural voice? It then returns the gesture for stop that I had made and turns towards their craft.

The aliens exchange a few more glances, before walking back towards their ship. Uncertain of their intentions, I refrained from following them just yet. Were they wanting to go back to their spaceship alone, or did they want me to accompany them?

When they noticed I wasn't moving, one stopped and waved me over. I suppose at least some gestures transcend cultural boundaries. They seem friendly enough, I suppose. Did I want to follow them, though?

Screw it, I've got nothing better to do for the next few hours. Worst comes to worst, I can shoot my way out of things. Having a swarm of drones and a tank stored in your pocket dimension allows for remarkably prolific risk-taking.

I begin following them, and they resume walking when they see that I'm doing so. We reach the craft and one of the aliens says something into their communicator. The door opens and we enter.

The interior is rather spacious. It's design resembles the cargo bay of a tandem rotor transport helicopters - the interior sides of the craft is lined with inward facing seats and a line going from front to back down the centre is kept clear.

Despite the large capacity of the craft, it seems that the two aliens I had already met along with a third pilot were the only people on the vehicle. One of them starts speaking into their communicator once more and the door closes. The other sits down in one of the seats and motions for me to do the same.

The seats look incredibly uncomfortable - undoubtedly due to them not being designed for humans. Thankfully, such concerns were no longer an issue for me, and I sat on the seat opposite to the alien without an ounce of discomfort.

My pair of drones still floated beside me - I hadn't the inclination to dismiss them. With a nearly imperceptible lurch, the craft leaves the ground. That was far too smooth - did they have some sort of technology to mitigate the effects of inertia?

Yeoman speaks up. "It is likely. I'm getting readings incongruous with what we should theoretically be experiencing. I am unsure as to the mechanics behind the effect, but I am keeping logs for later analysis." Regardless, my drones did not so much as falter in their hovering.

We sat in silence for the remainder of the ride. Occasionally, the pair of aliens opposite me would shuffle about awkwardly avoiding my gaze, but they didn't attempt to communicate further. About two minutes elapsed before Yeoman informed me that the gravity had not changed significantly.

The craft lacked windows of any kind, so I could not tell whether we were actually leaving the planet, or merely relocating to a different part. If it's the former, then that would confirm that these aliens have access to artificial gravity - something not present within my own technology package.

A further six minutes elapsed before anything else of significance occurred. There was a chime, and the pair stood up, moving towards the door. I still held my shotgun in my hands, despite them not having drawn a weapon yet - mostly because if I wanted to holster it, I would have to stow it in my pocket dimension.

Suffice to say, I don't want to tip my hand in that regard quite yet.

The door of the craft opens and we're met with what is very clearly a decontamination team - pure white hooded and gloved body suits with hermetically sealed facemasks, along with others in armour similar two the two I had already met.

They gesture for me to follow, then step out into the awaiting team, submitting themselves to the decon process. I glance about the room - it looks to be a purpose-built single ship hangar. The doorways are all covered by energy shields of some description, and the atmosphere is kept from rushing out into the void of space by a field of some kind.

I observe the decon process for a few moments. The pair stepped through some sort of energy grid, which then swept back and forth a few times before they were cleared by one of the technicians. Nothing about them visibly changed, however. "Yeoman, what can you tell me about that?"

"Not much. At a guess, it's using the field to purge any biological contaminants, though that should be fairly obvious." Seeing no particular malicious intent, I step into the awaiting field. A few moments pass, and the technicians around me exchange some hurried words.

Was something wrong? One of the technicians brings a hand to the side of it's head and begins talking frantically. A few beats pass, then another technician signals for the field to begin sweeping back and forth.

"Best I can determine, the field is causing some sort of intense micro-vibrations in the atmosphere surrounding the surface of our body. I am unsure as to the mechanism behind it, but I suspect that it is an effective technique."

The energy field passes a few times before I'm waved through. One of the technicians is still speaking through his communicator, but the pair that had met me on the surface beckon for me to follow.

Did they know that this body was entirely mechanical? It was possible - my armour does have some amount of electromagnetic shielding, but it's entirely reasonable that it wouldn't prevent the aliens' scans.

I follow the two of them, and they lead me out of the hangar and through empty gunmetal grey corridors. I'm somewhat relieved that they haven't tried to take my gun or drones away from me - it would be a shame to have to shoot my way out of things. After about a minute we arrive at what is very clearly a conference room.

There's four aliens suited up in something resembling hazmat gear waiting for me - three that fit the general description of the two I had already met, and a fourth that looks almost exactly like a human female.

Were there humans in this universe? Did they identify my words as English and have a translator on hand? Why didn't they just patch her into the comms system, then?

Things become more clear when I catch a clear looks at the things behind the transparent faceplates of the suits. The human-shaped one was not human at all - it had blue skin and no eyebrows but facial features that still resembled a human. The other three had grey leathery skin and lacked cheeks - instead, they had mandibles of some sort. Their face had plates of a material that looked like bone covering most of the skin.

I enter the room. If I still had the ability to convey facial expressions, I would have cocked an eyebrow expectantly. Instead, I turned my attention towards the magical realm and inspected the soul of the new alien. It was far larger than any of the others. Was this alien a mage? If they were a skilled one, they should be able to detect my inspection.

I peered closer at the soul. It gave me the impression of experience, saltwater and ennui. Saltwater? Was that a hint towards the origins of this alien?

I returned my attention towards the physical, wanting to see the alien's reaction to my probe. With a jolt, I realised that the other aliens were now pointing weapons at me, and the blue alien was bent over, clutching it's head.