This was originally posted as part of the chapter before it as a bonus: since the sudden transition confused people a bit, I'm doing a little housekeeping and posting it as its own chapter before I write what it's leading in to.

Normally delays in fic updating are due to my typical abysmal health, but this time it's that I finally got home after two months away from my game systems to find Shadow Hearts: From The New World & Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2 waiting for me. Oh, and two months' worth of chores, and a lot of disability benefit-related stuff, but the awesome cosmic horror + screwy history & cosmic horror + mythorgasmic computerized demon summoning's the main reason.

I have no regrets.


If the Zan'ei ever had a rule against running in the halls, other than 'if you're clumsy or careless enough to run into anyone, you'll be doing training obstacle courses until your legs fall off,' it would have been suspended for the duration of the not-quite-emergency that was deploying everything possible while Class 2 Minimum Power severely restricted their communication options. Judge Biblio had reactivated the announcement & communications screens just long enough for the populace to be informed of what was going on and all waste-licensed humans and reploids ordered to head to the nearest deployment area, but even though civilians in non-essential positions had been ordered to remain in their rooms as much as possible to get them out of the way, some of those positions weren't actually non-essential under the circumstances.

Neo Arcadia didn't have com systems in private complexes. Punching through all these meters of concrete and who-knew-what-elseused too much power to let just anyone do it, and no one had installed wires for them when the buildings were constructed. There were public com centers civilians could use to send and access messages, take courses & research in public databases, but they were shut down and using them to contact someone even in normal circumstances meant hoping the other person checked their messages anytime soon.

Despite all the urgent calls for everything from technicians of every stripe to retired architects (who used their skills not just to improve the city's systems but figure out the layouts of ancient ruins and bases), the first people Tech Kraken sent the Zan'ei patrol officers to conscript were the private courier services.

During the Elf War, humans old enough to be rational but far too young to fight were worked almost as hard as everyone else. It wasn't just that reploids would have resented humans that were able to work failing to contribute, it was that the young humans were with them either because their caretakers were fighting or they'd lost their entire family and support structure. They had to be kept busy, either because they insisted on it or the distraction was the only thing keeping them from curling up into balls and refusing to eat.

A lot of the older ones lied about their age, but if they couldn't meet certain physical requirements they were a liability on the battlefield. The others, well, in a war of attrition, fought with rapidly dwindling resources as the world broke down for a second time, there were always things that needed doing or fixing, new bases that had to be constructed or retrofitted in a hurry when the last position fell or an offensive succeeded.

Since Weil targeted the adults, when Neo Arcadia was built the majority of the designers and technicians were ten to seventeen-year-old humans, although Master X set out the overall structure and reviewed their plans before ordering them implemented.

The others? They weren't strong enough for the hard physical labor of construction so, like before, they were sent to find people and give them messages. When a base was under com silence and everyone was working, the fastest way to call a staff meeting was to send the children to fetch all the officers.

If anything, the din of the massive construction site and the chaos geography created by buildings rising & material piles being gathered, delivered & used up made the couriers even more important. Construction foremen couldn't leave their work sites just to spend several hours hunting for someone who knew where the promised steel delivery had gotten to when they had work to do: it was children who had the time to hunt for people and the agility to take shortcuts without tripping and knocking over a stack of pipes.

Once Neo Arcadia was stable enough that everyone was moved into permanent purpose-built offices with phone lines between them the city's need for couriers was greatly reduced, although it didn't disappear entirely. These days, part of the training for new human Zan'ei officers was acting as couriers, since it trained their knowledge of the city, ability to plan routes, speed and agility while doing something more useful than running obstacle courses that weren't constantly changing.

So of course every single office of the city had sent out their stationed courier for the first thing that popped into their heads, and then called the highest Zan'ei office they had the clearance to reach demanding more. Which was why Tech Kraken had ordered all his couriers out before they made those calls, sending them to the addresses of the heads of the private courier companies & messaging all the beat cops to act as town criers and ask for volunteers in the areas that were still crowded. They'd come: most of them had made it here for cookies in their youth, and courier companies had to stay on good terms with the Zan'ei unless they wanted to be shut down for professional negligence. The teenage humans they hired as runners had to be good, but accidents happened and so did injuries.

Their employees had to learn how to memorize messages too, since a lot of people didn't keep paper and pens lying around. The couriers would sell you paper and the loan of a pen, but that was an extra fee. Letters were associated with bad news, too, since there were some things people shouldn't have to hear from a stranger. Packages cost even more, depending on how heavy & unwieldy they were.

So when two reploids ran into the foyer of the Zan'ei building, where the line Craft stood in to volunteer was now packed with couriers, with more coming in as their bosses knocked on their doors or they told a neighbor the news on the way, they were forced to slow down to make their way through the crowd. Yet not as much as one would have thought.

One of them wore the white coat of a scientist or a doctor. He balked at the sight of all those people and moved through the crowd almost gingerly, but everyone who noticed the color he wore did what they could to get out of his way. Especially the ones who noticed that the name on his tag was written in green. This wasn't a Zan'ei coming back from an assignment, this was someone from the Rekku on a mission.

The other ducked and weaved through the crowd, placing his feet with seemingly-careless grace and slipping through gaps as though he knew when they would appear and was moving to the rhythm of the crowd. He was humming under his breath, and perhaps someone who noticed his un-reploid-like coordination might have thought he was a dancer. After all, "those move easiest who have learned to dance." Even humans started out with so little coordination they couldn't walk: practice made perfect.

A smarter observer would know that there was another profession that required a trained body: soldier. One who knew ancient history (so rare in Neo Arcadia!) would have recognized the song he was humming as far too martial and thirsty for the blood of tyrants to mean anything else.

It is us they dare plan/to return to the old slavery!

To arms, citizens!

Black hair that fell past the shoulders was unusual on a male model, but the black floppy beret perched on top of that hair proclaimed that he was an artist of some sort and artists were supposed to be eccentric. For that matter, who would trust an artist who looked ugly or dressed just like everyone else? Cultivating a personal style proved that he had style.

The two of them, despite entering the hall from different entrances, arrived at the same door at the same time. The scientist glanced at the other curiously, but he just smiled and hummed a little as the automatic doors opened for them. Once the doors closed behind them, he waved the other reploid aside. "Let me," he said as he quickly hit several of the floor buttons.

Cerveau stood stiffly, wincing as his upgraded systems detected the scan. Many forms of radiation were actually more harmful to unprotected reploids and machinery than unprotected humans. Beta radiation, for example, consisted of rogue electrons, when reploids did so much of their thinking with electrons. Between the sun and the radioactive furnace at the earth's core, humans were constantly bombarded by radiation. Their bodies were used to it. Yes, a reploid with built-in shielding was safer in a radioactive area than a human, and in 21XX that shielding was standard, but Neo Arcadian civilian models didn't need it and had to pay money if they wanted it.

As a matter of fact, Cerveau did have that shielding. For one thing, he was a member of the Rekku stationed in the wastes. For another, he worked with Dr. Ciel, and who knew what could happen if something went wrong with one of the experiments? He couldn't get her out of there in time if his processor was tripping out too much for it to occur to him. The only reason he even noticed the X-rays was that he worked with Dr. Ciel and more than half his job was making sure she was safe. He even had a rudimentary sense of smell, although it was designed to detect only a few things like carbon monoxide. Humans couldn't smell carbon monoxide, so Cerveau was well aware it wasn't much compared to the original reploid systems, the ones designed to give them human capabilities.

The elevator started up after the scan finished. Truth to tell, Cerveau felt more than a little bad about using it. The city was on a Minimum Power setting, and this was wasteful.

Still, he told himself, he didn't remember his way around this building and he had no idea where the headquarters was. He'd been told to report as soon as he could and there was only one thing they'd call such an experienced technician away for right now, when they were swamped with soldiers in need of repairs.

The door opened onto a hallway with blank white walls. Cerveau grimaced as he looked it over through his orange visor: more scanners. The other guy had gotten several steps ahead of him by the time Cerveau gritted his teeth and stepped out of the elevator: Cerveau hurried to catch up, since who know how long whatever this reploid had to report would take.

"Ah, Dr. Cerveau. You made good time," Tech Kraken said without turning around when the final door opened. Cerveau wasn't surprised: the declassified portions of Tech Kraken's special systems had been one of his case studies. "Lieutenant Hirondelle?"

"Craft appeared in our office, right in front of Neige." In 21XX, Neo Arcadia would have been under a teleport shield. Since elves could punch right through them like they weren't even there, the city didn't bother. It was just a waste of power. "Since I wouldn't be much use debriefing him," he said, flipping his hair back as he blatantly lied, "I volunteered to report his reappearance and ask what of what he knows isn't classified. Other than footage of this Area Zero Guardian Leviathan said was for release."

"There's no one here who can decide that."

Hirondelle shrugged. "Then I'll be waiting around all day." The seeming statement was half-question: should he go back or did the Zan'ei need all its agents right now?

"Go back to ANN. With the screens shut down," and their computer systems, "they'll have nothing to do but gather and distribute information." They couldn't even get at Craft's footage. "Tell Neige that if she gets anything classified out of her husband, we'll conscript her." Neige had seemed like one of those people born or built to be in the Zan'ei until she realized this meant not telling people the interesting stuff she found out. "No, hold on a moment," he said when Hirondelle took that as a dismissal. "Take a look at this." He activated one of the screens and turned his chair to face them. Without looking back at the screen, he said, "This is where the others reappeared. As you can see," the camera panned over, "Guardian Leviathan left to join the others fighting Omega, but they're not heading towards the city. We were ordered by Guardian Harpuia not to enter that area, but an order from Master X overrides General Harpuia's commands." That meant Cerveau. "The information about the Guardians you can reveal."

Hirondelle nodded: the others would assume it was an apology for the Zan'ei for not being able to let them at the declassified parts of what Craft knew yet. "I'll run damage and rumor control." As usual.

"Now all four of the Guardians have engaged the God of Destruction." Tech folded two of his tentacle arms together in front of him, looking like the offspring of an albino squid and an ancient Hindu god himself. "The missing Judges haven't reappeared in the city, either. Are they dead? Has the God of Destruction already grown too powerful for them to stand against? Master X never allowed them to fight him during the Elf Wars, although that was also because of the Dark Elf. Under the circumstances, someone without your loyalty might wonder why Guardian Harpuia gave the orders he did."

What Tech Kraken was insinuating left Cerveau's eyes wide behind his glasses. The city falling? If a rumor like that started, the city would panic! There would be a raid on the supplies needed to support the troops, vehicles would be stolen, unprotected citizens would die in the wastes: it would be a nightmare. If a rumor like that started, because someone so highly placed in the Zan'ei said something like this?

But Tech Kraken was talking to one of the people whose job was to control rumors and what information was spreading around the city through unofficial channels, so Hirondelle only nodded. "So shall I take my leave?"

"Move." Tech's directness only made the delicacy he'd handled the previous statement with more obvious.

Hirondelle removed his beret and made a sweeping bow, then whirled and ran back down the corridor.

"Why wasn't I sent coordinates and sent straight to a teleporter?" Cerveau asked the Kraken, beginning to get a little angry. "Dr. Ciel…"

"…Has someone else from the Joint Protection Initiative with her." Tech didn't mention that it was little Lark, who didn't look very impressive, instead of the Rekku officer or the one Tech was currently filtering out of the image. Half the armies had seen 'Master X's' Seraph armor during the annual training campaigns. "As well as one of her old projects. She's needed there, or General Leviathan would have told her to come to us with this." Now he restored everything to the image, pointing with a cable to the one without wings.

"That's…" Who else could he be? With Omega right there for comparison? The God of Destruction Weil had built in the legendary Zero's image, to torment Master X and have enough power to oppose him?

"What tools might she need? Aside from elves." There were plenty already out there: they'd come if called by someone who had arrived with Guardian Leviathan.

"I brought the portable toolkit with me. It's the one she put together herself, to work on him." He'd let her think he didn't know what she was up to because that would involve explaining why either he wasn't reporting her or she was allowed to observe Zero, which might encourage her to see if she could get away with tampering with the sleeping hero.

Ciel was Ciel, after all. He'd hoped the grayish hair might make her think of him as older and wiser (that was why he'd gotten hair that color, since it seemed to help humans get listened to) but honestly, he doubted she'd even noticed it.

Tech Kraken knew that Ciel hadn't even been mentioned in the message, but he instantly came to the same conclusion Cerveau had: why else would he be summoned like this?


Hirondelle is fond of "The War Song of the Army of the Rhine," which is known under another name as the French national anthem. It's a very bloodthirsty song written around the French Revolution, if you look at a more direct translation. Very appropriate to someone who was in a revolutionary army trying to kill and overthrow leaders who ignored the suffering of the common people. Kind of similar to the Battle Hymn of the Republic, too, although the Battle Hymn is more about 'let justice triumph and free the slaves,' while the French national anthem is more, 'Let's kill the bastards and water our fields with their blood!' The official translation into English has very little in common with what those words actually mean.