DAY 8

Arbiter

"What's the status of the patients?" I asked, my hooves clacking on the concrete floor as I strode into the makeshift infirmary.

Elizabeth was tending to the wounds of Jaime Lannister, wounded after the chief had dealt a great blow to his torso. "Mr Lannister-" She stopped herself, and glared at the man, holding a roll she was spinning around his rib cage- in a tightening grip.

He insisted that we called him Sir, not Mister.

He took one look at the bandages in her grip and sighed, "I suppose I have been called worse things."

"Shocker," She resumed bandaging.

"Nurse!" A deep voice called from behind in his bed; the humans, still not getting not his name, called him the 'Russian with the big gun'. "Nurse!" He called again, trying to pull himself up from his bed. The damage to his ribs was much worse than Lannister's, the chief looking to neutralize him completely, and the pain came down on him with a scream.

"This better not be about another damn sandwich!" Elizabeth snapped without taking her eyes off the bandages.

He let out a groan mixed with severe pain and disappointment at not getting what he wanted.

"They-" I nodded at the far corner with the russian- "being too hard to handle?"

She fell into a whisper, "The big one tried for the door multiple times, but-"

She nodded at Marcus, who spent his time reading manuals and encyclopedias from the warehouse, sitting guard on a stool with one that read 'Explosive Ordinance Materials and Safety'.

"I see."

"They're gonna take some time to heal fully, about six weeks, that one-" She locked her eyes on another person behind me, but I didn't bother looking at the obvious; the hooded one who was left unconscious, concussed with bandages over his head- "Might take a bit longer."

"What about him?" I said, ticking off the only other person left on the list. William was asleep in his bed, still next to Jaime.

Elizabeth's voice dropped another volume, "With a broken arm and leg, I don't think he's-"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Jaime, who we had forgotten was right there and had ears, interrupted, his conspiratorial tone more refined than ours; the perfect volume and perfectly clear. This wasn't his first time whispering among privy ears.

"I saw him getting up in the middle of the night."

"What?!" Elizabeth exclaimed, keeping her voice low, "That can't be! I'd notice any of his bandages undone."

"As it just so happens," He pointed at a spot on the side of William's bed that was facing his, "I caught him standing and redoing them." He looked between us, bewildered himself at what he was saying, "His arm was perfectly fine."

I thought back to Kaneki, the white haired human eater. Wrex had roughed him up good while he was in his captivity, but his bruise and cuts would heal in minutes. Wrex had told me, much to my exasperation, that he even had broken a blade on his skin...

Elizabeth's eyes glared holes into William's snoring face, not surprising me. She felt she had built trust with the man, only to find that he had been keeping secrets from her. It didn't help that she clearly held people to higher standards than even the prophets did.

Jaime's gaze eyed the man, as if eyeing a battlefield. But he knew he wasn't the commander in this one, "What do we do?"

We can't punish him for concealing his quick recovery, I thought to myself, but I reminded myself that this man was an experienced warrior. We can't call him out until we know what he's up to…

"We wait," was my answer, redirecting their eyes towards me, both surprised.

The corner of Elizabeth's lip curled upwards slightly, I noticed, and it quickly vanished as she spoke, "Why?"

"If he's up to something, we need to figure out what," I considered his snoring presence; back when I was in command of a single ship, Retribution's Thunder, I'd got word that a gang of kig-yar on the crew were plotting to slit my throat in my sleep. "But if he's just poking at us, seeing if he can trust us, we need to give him reasons to do so."

I spent the nights leading up to the assassination attempt studying my own sleep behaviors; my snores, my natural twists and turns in my beaded bed, words I'd mutter in my sleep, and I practiced replicating it, learning to fein sleep. It was an important tool that saved my life, and I can't put it behind me that it wouldn't be under William's belt, especially now with us speaking so close to him.

"What are you saying?" Jaime eyed William knowingly; he knew we were being careful.

"Do nothing," was what I said, but of course the opposite was true.

"I disagree," Elizabeth crossed her arms, staring at the two of us.

"Do you have a better idea?" I asked.

She didn't hesitate, "Get rid of all the weapons people have been stockpiling."

I was shocked at her blunt advice, but not the news of the situation; I already knew what was happening.

Jaime's genuinely confused glances told me he didn't, "What are you talking about?"

"Crates with tools have been left all over storage, things such as knives, hammers, hatchets, even screwdrivers were all missing," She counted the items off on her fingers, "We're lucky Glass and Ripley stocked up their workshops before that happened."

Jaime seemed to think it over, before giving me a look of discontentment, "You don't have men guarding the storage?"

So, even he finds my authority legitimate.

I couldn't discuss the true extent of my next move so close to William, and the few to know the better, "We're already imprisoned in this place, we post guards on supplies and start confiscating contraband…"

I let the thought reach them. Jaime looked prepared to counter, but I could see his arguments fall apart in his eyes. Too many unknown factors, too many powerful actors at play to maintain order. If only he knew that I had experience fighting beings stronger than me...

But as his counter fizzled before being made vocal, Elizabeth seemed willing to take the challenge, "And if Will were to get out, and someone-" She indicated Jaime's bandaged torso with her eyes-" were to try and attack him?"

Will. I felt a creeping suspicion. I knew that the smaller the words humans used to address each other, the more strong the relationship. But the person who broke Will's arm and leg, shattered two rib cages and left one person unconscious is still gonna be a problem, I had to give her that.

"I'll talk to him," I declared, making sure they got the message with a strong tone.

Elizabeth didn't buckle, "And the others? I've noticed that most are very familiar with violence."

I assume you think I'm blind too, I thought to myself, feeling slightly insulted. "I'll worry about that."

I bid them farewell, wished Jaime a good recovery and that Elizabeth's job would become easier with time. I turned and left the hospital to find my thief.

? - On the mountains

My eyes opened to reveal the afternoon light, reflecting into my little hole in the mountain and casting shadows on it's walls.

With a groan, I sat up and dragged my legs out of the dirt. When feeling in them returned, and the pins and needles and numbness came and went, I lifted them up. The once twisted appendages were mended back into shape, the purple splotches of bruise tissue gone.

With a twist of my feet, testing out the old hinges of my ankles, I turned and faced the horizon outside.

The bountiful green forest stretched on, an untold number of venomous habitants crawling, slithering, climbing and flying through its wildly bustling trees, as if it threatened to reach out and pull me into its maw...

I checked the seedlings, now at fifteen, before I tied the ropes around my torso, and began the climb again. I wedged my fingers- just as those short and stubby experts had taught me to some time ago- and lifted with my legs. The mountain climbing tools I had scavenged down below were lost now, so I had to carry more caution and diligence during this climb.

Sweat beaded down my forehead in the sunlight. At least the angry winds were gone, I thought, not smelling that foul breath in the air.

I stopped my climb, dangling off an arm, and stared at the partially clouded sky…

I wondered if nothing happened because the world thought I was dead, or had something for me up there...

I continued moving, having wondered three more times. 'The rule of three,' the small climbers had told me, 'When you need to think, stop and do it three times. No more, no less.'

I stopped when the top came into view. I saw them from up above me, dancing in the sunlight, swaying in the air; snowflakes. This was where the wind had blown me off the mountain.

I dared not to breathe, fearing that the slightest sign of my existence will alert the world. The sun gave them a beautiful golden shine, the branching crystals reflecting its glow-

BANG!

The sound nearly made me lose my grip. It came from my intended destination; atop the mountain line.

I searched for the source with my eyes and ears. It sounded like a firework, an explosion of black powder. It travelled with an echo, the rumble still reverberating as I scanned the top.

The only thing I could make out is that it came from the right side.

I moved left.

My reach became longer in length and swift in its grasp, my ascent becoming more rapid as I scale away from the sound. I did not know if it was dangerous or not, but I wasn't willing to risk it-not willing to risk the seeds.

The past me from months ago would've been shaking his head in disappointment, letting fear guide my every step. I quelled my shame to focus on the task at hand.

And before I knew it, I was pulling myself up on the top, my old feet returning to their place on the earth. I turned back, absorbing the dark forest below in all its dominion, but this time, I could make out the patches of grassland rustling in the wind, one patch of green dipping into the caramel sands of the beach, the waves of the great blue ocean dancing against it.

I wished I could've stayed there until the sun settled on the horizon. But then, the tranquil quiet was broken- by vicious barking.

I ducked at the growls and roars of many hounds, coming from further in the stone and snow mountain. The ground atop was very uneven, covered in ridges the size of heavily sloped hills, and it stretched on so far I could not make out the other end of the mountain.

A smile slipped on my face as I realized the terrain was sculpted to my advantage with so many hiding places. It vanished just as quickly when I remembered it was their terrain.

I dashed, getting out of the open as quickly as I could; which consequently meant getting closer. I moved through the lows, places where the ridge broke and lowered, never ever climbing over, leaving me high on top, even for a millisecond. Climbing up high on the ridges meant being seen and being smelled, my scent getting caught in even the softest of winds.

Staying within the etches on the earth kept me safe. But sound still carried; the sounds of snow crunching underneath my feet. But with those hounds going off, I caught them before they caught me.

I stopped, when the hounds would've been a barnhouse's length away from me. There were voices now. I found a hiding spot, and softly, crawling along the cold snow up the top of it, my cowl cloaking my light grey hair, rubbing snow on it with my hands, blending in.

"HA HA HA! STUPID DOGS!" I hear a hit and a yelp from a hound, snapping with a growl towards it's heavy voiced agitator.

"Shut up!" This one whispered with a deep and hoarse voice, "You're worse than the dogs! shooting in the air with your guns! Wasting bullets!"

"STUPID BLUE!" The louder and far dimmer voice shouted back.

I got a look at the group that was moving through the flat clearing of ground in the uneven earth; they were big, ones with green skin and ones with blue skin. The hounds were also green and heavily muscled just like their two legged, hunched back counterparts. They held long wooden tools in their hands, some ugly blades and hammers, others not so obvious and were unknown to me.

They reminded me of a similarly rough and brutal and brain-less group from home. But this was a different breed.

They continued their march across without any sign of exhaustion, disappearing after scaling a particular large hill, their dogs being dragged over the snow in their chains.

I slid back down from my hiding spot, and zigzagged, intent on crossing to the other side of the mountain. With them gone, I could slip behind, over their messy trail of footsteps in the snow…

Their trail!

If they turned back, they would spot my own, which despite my best efforts, were still quite visible. The snow could cover it all up, but that's if it arrives before.

I stopped to consider my next course of action. Trace their footsteps backwards? No, I might step into whatever hole they call home. Go back? I turned towards the way I came from. No! I faced forward, eyes locked in resolved. I have to risk it!

I began moving, crossing over their large tracks. I considered the idea of covering my own with loose snowballs, making my own little snowfall...When something caught my eye.

It was a shimmer. Like a very clean blob of water, suspended over the ground- it moved.

And new footprints formed underneath it.

I pivoted back on my feet, and sprung away into a sprint.

BANG!

Stone and snow exploded into clouds of dust and ice particles from the hills in front of me. A quick glance in the corner of my eye revealed the blue monstrosity flashing into existence, aiming it's deadly tool at me like a crossbow, thin tendrils of grey smoke coming out the end.

My only hope was to lose it in the maze-like terrain.

I rounded a corner just as it disappeared again, it's tracks giving chase. I zigzagged, left, right, right, right, left, left, right. My tracks kept my foe on my tail, but I started getting an eye for the deeper spots of snow. My run turned into a dance, keeping to the shallowest spots, or the ones without.

My tracks behind became far fewer in between, until finally I twisted around a corner without leaving a single footprint.

I hugged the tall ridge with my back, listening to the sound of footsteps crunching against snow frantically move around, searching for me.

I held my breath, and sat still, not making a sound.

The footsteps stopped. Finding the time, I thought about my pursuer; doubtlessly among the group I saw earlier, with the ability to vanish and still be there. It must've been hanging back, tailing behind should anyone else as sneaky as it try to avoid the party from behind- or spring an attack on them. But why didn't it call forth it's company?

And now I know what those mysterious tools did. Perhaps it thought the loud sound would call them?

click click

I heard something, an object, maybe a rock, hitting stone groun-

BOOM!

The sound was almost deafening. Dust and debris erupted, far from me, with pebbles and rocks raining down.

I risked looking up. Another click and an object flew in the air, disappearing over a ridgeline.

BOOM!

Another explosion. Understanding forced my eyebrows up; it was using explosives to flush me out!

click click

BOOM!

I ducked again, but I paid close attention this time; the click before the toss, the object hitting the ground, and the ensuing explosion. The click must have been it readying the explos-

click click

I sprung out, wooden stick in hand. I knew where the sound came from, and I knew where it was going to be lobbed next; it was crafty, but the left to right sweep was a pattern easy to discern.

And with the burnt fatter end of my staff- and luck or divine intervention- I swung at the object. It struck its mark! The hit sent the object flying- flying back to whence it came.

I hit the ground- just as it ripped up the earth far from me. The rain of debris had drops of blood among its contents this time, staining the white snow with red.

When the dust cleared, I pulled myself back on my feet with my staff, and I went for my would-be assailant, its corpse laid at the top of a thin yet tall bump in the terrain. The blue creature had been a pillar of muscle, its hands bigger than my head. It wore ragged clothes, a red and tattered scarf around its neck, and two leather straps that held its upper lip up, exposing its teeth in a nasty snarl. The explosion had torn off its right leg at the knee, and riddled its body with bleeding holes, a couple in its skull.

"Foul creature," I said, glaring down at it with disgust.

I turned away from it and towards a larger hill. I climbed up to get a vantage point, scanning the environment. Burnt craters remained where the explosions had left their mark in the earth, and the end of the mountain was still far out of sight.

I looked far to the direction the group was going; small figures in the distance, but they continued their march without turning back. Surely they must've heard the commotion?

I turned toward the broken body that had chased me with murderous intent. Did they expect their comrade to be able to handle me itself?

I turned towards the direction they had come from... And my eyes went wide, and my hands pressed my stick into the ground as if to use it to push me into the air, my knees shifting towards the other end of the mountain, my own body readying itself to run.

The group had been a scouting party, for the horde of green silhouettes that was currently approaching.

Arbiter - Back in the Prison

The living area was abuzz with activity. The old human Sully was leaning on a rail, smoking his cigar and chatting with Joel and Nate, sharing stories.

"...And then Nathan says to me: It's the spanish. They never left."

Joel scoffed, "What?"

"Apparently, the curse of El Dorado was some sort of...zombie plague," Sully rubbed the back of his head. "Navarro knew the whole time, and was gonna sell the damn thing."

Joel seemed to be in disbelief; Nate not so much. I turned my attention towards Ellie who was sitting on the rail, legs dangling overhead.

"Stick and pokes are nice and all," Jack, the tattooed woman, was right with her talking about getting tattoos, "but it's a sore bitch on the hand, so you can't make much with them."

"You think someone here might know how to make an actual tat gun?" Ellie's tone was fast-paced and elated; she was excited.

Jack blew a raspberry, "How the fuck should I know?"

"Oh right," Ellie started off sarcastically, "You work alone. The badass loner."

"Watch it kid," Jack pointed a firm finger at her, but wasn't able to hide her own smirk behind it.

I took my attention and focused it on the tasks at hand. Delta squad had set up chairs outside their doors to play cards in, helmets back on their heads. The cards were in strange symbols that were not familiar, and made with paper and markers. The leader, 38, had seen me coming and was already standing at attention, albeit with a less rigid posture.

"Sir, everything checks out over here," He reported swiftly.

"Not that we expect much to happen," The orange patterned commando, Scorch, grumbled. "It's been freaking boring!"

"Boring is good," I said. I lowered my voice, "But there's a problem."

That caught 38's attention, "Sir?"

"We need guards in storage," Scorch's excited gasp told me they already knew the situation, and were waiting for me to give the order. Scorch himself probably guessed a job guarding our only supply would net more exciting situations with thieves.

"Don't stop anyone," At that, Scorch deflated. "Set up checkpoints by the entrance, I only want them to log what gets taken in and out."

"Yes sir!" 38 enthusiastically shouted. It was at that moment that I noticed the hall had gone quiet. Ellie's feet still hung overhead in their red and white shoes, and I couldn't hear Jack's weight shifting on the floor above anymore. I hadn't heard her walk away either; she was there listening quietly.

"First though, we're doing a prisoner transfer," I turned my head slightly, and eyed the other group up above on the second floor, right across from me.

Nate rubbed the back of his head, avoiding eye contact. Sully blew smoke, and through the veil it created, I could see him staring at me from the corner of his eye. Joel's eyes locked on mine directly with crossed arms...

He gave an approving nod.

"May I ask why, sir?" 38 broke the silence, choosing to ignore my own silence, or to not address it. He clearly worked out that there were only two prisoners to transfer.

"One needs medical treatment," I answered with a half-truth.

The red marked commando, Sev, spoke up, "Is it what Wrex said?"

A ping of annoyance rippled through me, "What did Wrex say?"

"The prisoner eats people," Scorch whispered and cupped a hand next to where his mouth would be under the helmet.

"I wouldn't trust rumours so quickly," My voice came out strong, as I eyed the floor above us. "Do not spread them."

"Yes sir!" Scorch stiffened and gave a salute, "Sorry sir!"

I departed them, when 38 promptly kicked the deltas into high gear. They knew Kaneki was a handful, so 38 ordered Fixer to scrounge up some equipment to handle a 'high physicality hostile' before they did anything else.

I found myself in front of that blue haired woman's room; Chloe. A red marker had signed her name on the door, the large words 'KNOCK FIRST, LEAVE WHEN THERE'S NO ANSWER' were triple underlined underneath.

I tried my luck and gave a knock.

No answer.

Another knock.

"Read the door asshole!" Her voice pierced through, but it was laced in fear. She wasn't confident she could stop whoever wanted in.

"It's the Arbiter," I tried.

A pause, before a surprise, "Come in."

She was smoking that familiar white roll of tobacco I had seen the human grunts smoke. When I asked Johnson what was the difference between those and the brown one he always brandished, he replied 'browns for feeling good, whites for not feeling bad.'

Her room was a mess, bags of half eaten food littering the ground, opened cans and liquor bottles on the table top. She sat on her bed, eyes heavily bagged and staring off somewhere else.

"Arbiter," She said before blowing smoke through her nostrils. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to check up on you," Another half-truth. "I haven't seen much of you."

"I've been doing fine," She sighed, and held up an empty, half crumpled box in the other hand. "On my last cigarette."

I knew that she wasn't being entirely truthful; she was isolating herself from everyone else. "People have been warming up to each other. Why don't you?"

"Oh my god," She half-sneered a cynical smile, looking up at me this time, "you're not asking me to go make some friends are you?"

"I am."

The smile faded, and she returned to gazing off, "You sound just like my mom..."

I felt the homesickness in her tone. The bed creaked under my own weight as I sat beside her, "Tell me about her."

She hesitated. She looked down, and the burning end of her cigarette lit up in her mouth. The smoke blew out through her lips, and ended in a sigh before she answered, "I'd rather not."

I leaned back, listening to her with a gentle eye. I kept my mandibles close and my razor sharp teeth out of view; it was a habit I picked up bunking with human soldiers.

"I don't know if I'm gonna see her again," Her breathing became deeper, and she was pacing herself. She looked up and I could see she wanted to cry through those red eyes, "What's going to happen?

I reached for her shoulder. It jolted away from my four fingered grasp.

I sighed myself. She's not comfortable with nonhumans. Not yet.

"I don't know," I said standing up, giving her room, "Have you been... eating..."

I stopped. I looked at the mess on the floor; it clustered around the bathroom door. Heavily clustered. Too much of a hassle to wade through and…

I looked at her. She quickly stopped staring, and her eyes darted everywhere...except that bathroom. Which was too much of a hassle to enter.

I stepped for the bathroom, stomping a tin can with my hoof. "Yeah- hey!" Her answer was late and her voice rose in pitch, "Stay the hell away from my stuff!"

"Since when do humans keep stuff in washrooms?" I took the handle in my hand, twisted and pulled it open, dragging the clutter at the base with it.

A large mass was in the shower, a dark silhouette through the semi-translucent panel. I rolled it away to reveal the pile of tools; knives, hammers, bats, and hatchets. The assortment of bladed and blunted items stood tall enough to cover the handle that controls the showerhead.

Chloe had left her bed and followed from behind, "I can explain that-"

"Explain what?" I said, before promptly closing the panel and concealing the collection.

She looked at me with a wide eyed baffled expression, "Oh..."

I knew that she herself couldn't do anything with all these weapons, not really having any groups that she could arm; she was keeping them out of the hands of others.

She leaned on the door frame, rubbing her arm, "Thanks dude."

"Our little secret," I whispered. Chloe didn't offer much, and she could feel it. But this action was something the group actually needed. To at least lessen the chance of violence.

This girl, anxiously rubbing the back of her neck, had helped us.

"Eat your dinner in your room today, but we're having breakfast in the garden tomorrow, with everyone," She locked eyes with me, confused. "See you there."

With that, I left her fidgeting in her room to go see another woman about blowing open that accursed door.

? - On the mountains

I ran. I ran throughout the winding maze of terrain, trying to stay hidden. I gave up hiding when I realized it was making me slower, and they were getting closer faster. I leapt up and down hills and dashed in between, frantically pushing myself off the ground with my walking stick in an effort to get closer to the edge faster.

BOOM! BOOM! BANG-BANG! BANG-BANG! BOOM!

The sounds of more explosions and those strange weapons firing off caught my attention- towards the group that had passed earlier. Flashes in the distance accompanied the echoing sounds in the darkness of the shadows cast by the falling sun.

The dark clouds above us began flaking off ice, trickling down toward the ground.

I turned towards a gust of wind- a blizzard is coming.

DAKADAKADAKADAKA!

Lights whizzed by from behind, a torrent of firing from the strange weapons, and I dived.

Dived into the deepest pit near me on the earth. My robe may have seemed humble, but it was one I sought out well; it would keep me warm as I buried myself in the snow.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Hundreds of deep guttural voices screamed far away, as their footsteps sprung into a charge that shook the very earth.

The vibrations grew stronger and stronger, until-

I saw a blast of snow through the slits in my robe, figures launching across my pit, shouting and laughing with a savage glee as they ran towards their enemy. They lived for war.

Shimmers passed alongside the green; their cloaked comrades.

Howling and barking dogs accompanied the stampede above me, a whole pack chained and tugging at their master's lower waste, others loyal enough to follow withou-

A pair of teeth reached for my throat.

The green muscle bound hound dragged me out of my hiding spot, its jaws gripping onto the hairs of my beard. It braced itself away from me, as if trying to rip the hair from my face.

I unsheathed and drove my blade down its skull, coming out from the bottom and killing the beast. The sword kept the mutt's jaw locked, my hair still in it.

I tried to pry it off, before a very strong hand gripped my right ankle. It hoisted me upside down, bringing me a good foot or three off the ground, and face to face with a very alive, glaring and sneering green face. It ripped the dog off my face with a chunk of my hair to go with it, the blade still stuck in it's head.

"Unhand me!" I shouted, letting known my revulsion to the creature that grabbed me.

"Puny humie killed my dog!" It was furious, the last three words choking up in its throat with sadness, "We'll bite your legs off-"

A whizzing sound flew past my ears. A bloody hole bursted above it's right eye, and the steel grip became like glass and broke easily under my weight, causing me to fall on my face.

I rolled swiftly out from under the falling corpse.

I scanned my surroundings, blowing out strands of my long hair out of my face. Another wave was approaching, cheering and exploding their weapons towards the sky, as if the very sound was music to their ears.

My blade lost, I ran the other direction, to where the war party clashed with their enemies.

Arbiter - Back in the Prison

"And this will work?" I asked Ripley. Her room was tidy and utilitarian, filled with tools such as levelers, measuring tapes, soldering kits, boxes of nails, screws, and beakers of powders.

She sat at her worktable, going over these grey plates- the devices that were going to open the blast door.

"Each door burner is enough to melt through 4 inches of solid steel," The top of her jumpsuit was unzipped, the arms tied around her waist. Beads of sweat rolled down from her forehead; she had been working non-stop for four days. "The thickest blast doors are close to 16 inches, and with what we're making, we can cover 3 feet."

One detail felt too good to be true though. "And everything you needed to make these was all in storage?" I asked, leaning forward in the chair beside her at the table.

I had asked Ripley about her general calmness about my appearance, expecting jolts and uneasiness like the other humans. She said 'at least I don't have to hide in a locker with you'.

She grabbed a beaker holding a grey powder, "Thermite was practically at the top of the list of miscellaneous chemical substances."

I stared at the powder, very familiar with it. Covenant ships were designed to be impenetrable to plasma cutters, keeping out boarding parties by deflecting the super heated gas. Then the humans introduced us to thermite, something we were never prepared for.

To find thermite here, just sitting on a shelf...

"I'm making nine in total," Ripley continued, yet I only counted 3 of the devices on the table, "but Glass says the printer has been getting slower after each use."

I sat back at that. The man's intentions always felt suspect, "Has he said why?"

"It's an old model… or at least the process is old," Immediately, it became clear that Ripley simply wrote it off as a technical problem. "Layers a programmable gel out of a nozzle that hardens into a solid. It's slow as hell."

Ripley's own bed was unmade, the sheets and pillows strewn about. A blank, generic cereal box was the only sign of food she had with her, "How have you been settling in?"

"Not too bad," She said, as she began pouring the powder down a funnel into a compartment in the doorburner. "Heard people were eating together, getting cozy."

Right away, I noticed Ripley had a tougher outer shell, keeping everyone here at an arm's length, which was bad for the group. I needed to get her to loosen up, "You've been working away at this non stop. Why don't you take a break?"

She snorted. "Is there anyone else that can do this?" She gave the last bits a gentle tap out of the funnel.

"Cole's been looking into that," I answered.

"Your detective's on the case you mean?" She said sarcastically, "All in his room?"

Cole had been a little overwhelmed. He said that he had gotten a 'buffet of information' during the dinner party, and needed time to digest and go over his notes in his room. I told him to let me know when he was ready, and to take all the time he needed.

Ripley, working nonstop, obviously didn't like that, "He's doing his best in an overwhelming situation."

"You could at least get someone who isn't as dated," She spun a starhead around the compartment, sealing it. "I heard him call that Franklin guy 'the negro'."

The word didn't mean anything to me, "Negro?"

She scoffed, "That's what I get for asking the pot to handle the kettle."

I avoided an incoming sigh. Culture clashes. I knew this would start being a problem, with such different groups. When I was in command of a single ship, the various races among the crew had the same sort of problems; Jackals would steal as a sort of play, Grunts would spend too much time lounging and enjoying human entertainment, and my own elites would bully and harass everyone they considered lowly, jeopardizing the functioning of my crew…

I rubbed my temples through my helmet, soothing an incoming headache, "Maybe you could help him?"

"I would-" She dropped the extremely volatile device and pinched the bridge of her nose- "But he said that he was doing a job 'not meant for a woman'. Maybe you could talk about that with him?"

That was my cue. The chair screeched against the floor as I stood on my feet, "I won't bother you any longer."

I needed more information before I could deal with this situation, "Come get me when the burners are finished."

Ripley sighed and looked at work she had finished, "Will do."

I turned away and walked out the door, contemplating. That's when I spotted the open door to the Cannibal's prison.

At first I felt the urge to spring towards it, when the clone Commandos Scorch and Sev filed out, spears made of duct-taped knives and broomsticks pointed inside, as they tugged the prisoner out by a rope around his binded hands. Despite their bickering and silly nature, I could see them pick out parts of his body to attack should they need to- The tips of their spears angled towards the back of his thigh to cripple and the jugular in his neck to neutralize completely.

They kept to his sides as his thin frame came shambling out of his 'cell'. He stared off weakly into space, and looked ready to tumble to the floor, every step he took a half stumble.

Nate, Joel and Sully were still together, brown beer bottles in hand from a cooler they had fixed up, from the other side next to me. They stared at the scene with me, Joel's glare the most venomous out of them all, still remembering the feral attacks of the prisoner.

Ellie climbed the railings across from us, watching the scene with unease in her eyes. Jack cruelly eyed the prisoner, "Fucking freak…" She sipped out of her own beer, but she didn't look away once.

A door slammed open, startling Sev and Scorch at the new roadblock in their path towards the stairs. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" Wrex's tone was dangerous, and I readied myself; he didn't like his charge being handled by others.

"New orders," Sev blocked the path between Wrex and his prisoner with his plastic spear, "Prisoner transfer."

"With who?" Wrex inched forward, "It's just us in here."

"That guy in the mustache who caused that ruckus a few days back," Scorch tried to sneak in a shuffle back without being noticed, "tried to sucker Fixer."

"That's my prisoner!" Wrex glared at me, my knees readying to spring forward, "not Arbiter's!

Scorch, his damn pride on the line, couldn't resist, "Hey, you can still do tea visits if you want!"

Wrex lurched forward, stomping towards the two spear wielding commandos, "Why you damn-!"

"Wrex!" I was quicker. The Commandos- aware and respectful of my presence- moved around me with great precision, as I swiftly met the angry Krogan face to face, stopping him in his tracks.

"Out of my way," He stood a couple inches shorter than me, his breath, as hot as steam, blew into the exposed crevices of my suit along my neck. I might've been taller, but he carried more weight to hit with.

"If you want to watch him so much," I heard the gloves of his three fingered hands constricted as they formed fists, the Commandos strengthening their grips on their flimsy spears. "...Then you can move in the room next to him."

Wrex pulled his head back at that. He eyed me up and down. And then he spat off the railing. "Fine," He nodded towards a startled Scorch, "I'll go with your tiny guards."

I let out the breath I was holding as he growled towards his room, grabbing what little stuff he was accumulating in it. The tension in the room started to evaporate. Sully, Nate, and Joel sat back in their seats, and the angles of their feet told me who was going to run in, and who was going to run away. Ellie was already moving past the rail back on the floor, having had her fill of danger, while Jack tsked her teeth in disappointment- probably at the loss of her entertainment.

"One day," Sev started at Scorch, "that damn mouth of yours is gonna get you killed."

Wrex returned, looked at the two, and huffed, turning his back as the three walked off with the malaised prisoner. I glanced at the final onlooker- Detective Phelps, his baggy eyed face poking out of his room across from me. I still needed to have a talk with him.

Maybe later, I thought, pushing the task to tomorrow as I moved towards the next big problem.

? - On the mountains

My feet ached as my back was peppered with ice and debris. Explosions rocked the land behind me- the wave of charging monstrous soldiers being reduced by objects whistling through the air and tearing up the earth at their feet.

I thought during my run, as I often did, keeping aware of my surroundings. My thoughts dwelled on these new weapons I encountered; they were natural, the acrid smell of sulfur and charcoal in the air telling me that they were made with the same powders I used in my fireworks.

I knew those powders would be repurposed for destruction one day, and I was seeing the result with my very eyes: weapons that sent objects tearing through flesh and bone with great speed, others that ripped the very earth apart, and everything that stood on it.

Now I knew why the terrain was so strange; this had happened many times before.

The snowfall began to pick up, the gusts of winds billowing my robe with intensifying power. Everything around me became blotted out by the particles of snow and dust in the air, and my only sense of direction was the incoming wind, my destination being the left of it.

It was less than ideal, running towards a battle, but I wouldn't make it hiding in a hole or running off the mountain- my only hope was the place my pursuers had someone else to fight, someone else to pay attention to.

As I drew close to their thundering weapons, I misstepped and tripped into a hole, and I was met with the lifeless eyes of a man, still gazing off into his doom, the drool and blood in the corners of his mouth frozen into a white and red crust. I jolted back, crawling over other corpses half buried in the snow already.

The hole was dug out, an encampment or outpost. It was surrounded by a broken wall of sacks, and metal boxes were littered around what looked like a large, steel version of the weapons the green ones carried. A snow-white cloth was strewn half hung over it, a camouflage for their camp.

This must've been their enemy.

The trail of large footprints told me what had made quick work of them. I pushed myself up with my stick, and followed the direction of the tracks, knowing they only went to the same place I was running to.

As that encampment disappeared in the curtains of falling snow behind me, the lights of those damned weapons started bleeding through the front. I was almost there…

The ground under my feet shifted, but this time I kept my footing. I had just stepped on a body, one that wasn't a man. Dozens of it's comrades joined it, elbows, legs, and back hunches jutting out of the building snow all around me.

"...flank them..." A voice shouted in the distance. Another voice shouted, the words drowns out by the whistle of the wind.

"...Run straight at them-" Light and noise erupted, drowning out their words. They were using their powder weapons against their enemy, firing shot after shot after shot. They would be blind, their shots likely not meeting their targets, but it would make being out in the open too dangerous; they're keeping them at a distance while they advance.

It sounded like the waves behind me were cut down in their charge, the only ones left was the line in front of me. I could run for the edge of the mountain, take the seeds to safety…

I rustled my hand through my beard, reaching for the pouch to reassure myself. That I was doing the right thing by running, by protecting it...

The pouch was gone.

I dropped my stick, and pulled open my beard. The braid was ripped at the end. How…

Images of the mutt, lunging for my throat, ensnaring the hair of my face in it's jaw, floated past my eyes. I turned towards the direction I came from; too far now, and too treacherous. I'd be running towards where the beasts were coming from, blinded by the snow.

I dropped down on my knees and began roughling through one of the bodies on the ground. I grabbed it's shoulder and pulled it, face up. It had fallen on one of it's weapons, shaped like a crossbow. Can't use that, don't know how…

My eyes wandered to the objects that were attached to it's belt. They were nestled in these straps, and it wasn't hard to pull one out. It looked like a green, metal fruit, a pear. It had a small lever attached to it, with a silver metal ring dangling to one end.

A second of staring sent my eyes wide with recognition; this was what the invisible one had been using, what I had struck with my staff back at it.

What had torn the fairly large creature apart-

"Gah!" Blood exploded from a hole in my right shoulder, the pain incredible and causing me to drop the object I had been holding.

"There's someone behind us!" The voices started shouting at each other, and it was only a matter of time before they came for me.

I crawled the ground for the device, ignoring the pain in my shoulder each and every movement worsened. The sound of snow crunching under running feet drew closer.

I managed to pull it out from underneath a thick sheet of snow, where it had left a hole as it fell. I fiddled with it; turning and pulling on the lever, twisting parts that didn't twist, pressing buttons that weren't there, until finally settling with pulling with the one, strange silver ring.

Click

I turned my head to face a wall of green break through a curtain of snow, ramming into me, the weapon slipping out of my grasp as stone hard fists pummeled my face. I lost command of my limbs, and the taste of blood seeped into my mouth with each strike, and the world spun around me.

"I got the humie!" My attacker shouted in glee, enjoying the violence it created, "Super mutants are the future!"

Then, all sound seemed to disappear; the popping of their fiery weapons, the wailing of the falling snow against the wind, and all that remained was an intense ring, as if a bell had been rung in my head. A powerful force dropped onto me, pressing and pinning me to the ground.

"The master is dead!" A gnarly voice shouted in terror, "All the masters are dead!"

"What do we do?!" Another voice, panicked, "WHAT DO WE DO!?"

I managed to open an eye; the eternally snarling face of my attacker was beside my own, holes trailing blood down it's face. Figures ran through the snow behind it, all around me.

Their line had broken without a leader, and they were retreating.

"Head to the rail!" One waved its arms at its indecisive comrades, who were keeping their weapons trained in the direction of the enemy.

"Head to the-AAAAAAAAH!" It let out a painful shriek as a stream of fire fell onto it, sending it running and wailing in a blinded daze. It collapsed, only for its comrades to take its place.

The weight of my head started to disappear, black spots growing over my vision, but the smell of burning corpses remained with me. And then more footsteps against the snow; a calm advance rather than a panicked retreat.

"Search for survivors!" The sound of the voice sent a trail of relief through me, for it was the voice of a man, not a monster. "Loot the bodies! Scavenge what you can!"

Through disappearing vision, I spotted them; green clad men, dressed in uniform cloth, the only armor being metal headpieces.

I struggled to push a single word through my lips, "Help…"

Heads turned in my direction, frozen in their steps.

I drew all the breath and power I had left and reached out with my hand towards them. "Help!" My voice echoed throughout, deafening even through the sounds of tiny explosions.

Their faces pinpointed directly at me, "There's someone there!"

They sprinted towards me. My hand and head dropped. I softly closed my eyes with a smile, embracing rest and putting all my trust into the men running to my aid...

Arbiter - Back in the Prison

A weight had started to build. The gravity of the world started to pull me towards it; things I enjoyed fell to the wayside- my meditation, having good conversation with new friends, and the wonder I had at the people working together, the people who were tearing each other throats out days ago. Literally.

I sighed as I pushed through the doors of the warehouse. Fixer, the most technical of the group, was hard at work assembling the makeshift weapons they used, a pile of spears and smaller devices that worried me the most collecting on one of the worktables Glass had set up all around the warehouse.

"He's here?" I asked him, tape screeching from the roll as he connected two blades to a hammer- tools Chloe had missed.

"He's around the shelves," He pointed deeper into the tower structures, "to the right."

I glared hard at the obviously explosive devices; duct tape around a cylinder with a fuse sticking out of it. "Smoke bombs," Fixer didn't need to look away from his work to feel my stare.

"It'd better be," I warned him as I journeyed further down the dark rows. The halls were quiet save the whirring of the 3d printer, slowly forming the door burner pieces layer by layer, and of powders being poured by Fixer from behind me.

Empty spots dotted the shelves, a growing number of hollowed out crates being collected at a far space across from me, stacking tall and nearly surpassing the massive frames.

I breathed heavily to the sound of a presence around the corner, and I kept my approach to the chief calm. I made my footsteps loud so he would not be caught off guard.

"Chief," I said to his back.

"Arbiter," he didn't turn to face me. He sat alone in a corner, the small metal chair creaking under his weight.

He had a collection of junk in front of him that he was tending to: his door, explaining the gaping hole to his room, and a piece of railing ripped off and away from it's number. A power tool whirled loudly as he bolted blunt metal to the end of it, and that's when I realized it was a club.

Fear gripped my heart, "What are you planning?"

"I'm preparing," he said simply, and that's when I felt it. Not the comrade I had made in the Africa's of earth, not the hero I heard tales about while staying with the humans in the search, not the man who drove me to safety.

This was the demon. The cold mind that mowed down enemy after enemy, brother after brother. And here he was. Afraid. And going mad.

I eyed a crate above us; one leap off the ground, and I'm halfway to kicking it off it's shelf- and onto the Chief's head. This was an area full of metals, heavy enough to smash through his shield and knock him out, maybe even kill him...

As my feet readied to spring upwards, the chief dropped his newly crafted club, and picked up his door- revealing one side to be heavily padded with pillows tied to the front by a metal thread. He stood up, braced the door as a shield, and launched forward with great speed at the air.

I watched half agape, realizing he had reduced the lethality of the shield, "...Why?"

He perused the edges of his shield with his fingers, looking for exposed hard spots, "Did you hear that tools were stolen from storage?"

"I did," I didn't dare imagine what would happen if he found out. "I've got it under control."

He didn't respond, just stared at his shield. I wondered if he knew already. Or knew that I knew something.

I decided to just come out with it, "You've been distancing yourself."

He turned towards me, my own reflection gazing back at me through that golden visor. "You haven't."

I could see the nervousness in my eyes, "Why's that a bad thing?"

He pointed at the small world behind me, "You've forgotten that those people were murdering each other just a few days ago."

"You've forgotten that they're people," He scoffed at this, putting his shield down and sitting in his chair away from me. "And they've stopped."

Turned a cheek towards me, "Did they?"

I growled in frustration. I didn't have an answer; I couldn't explain away the hostility and aggression that was lurking around the corner with everyone, because we both know that we are dealing with a large collection of thieves, liars, murderers, and frightened soldiers. It was apparent that everyone knew how to fight- and thus more likely to do it.

A sigh pulled me back, making me aware of the long period of silence between us. "Arbiter, this wasn't what I was meant for," My eyes widened, and I unwrapped arms around my chest. "I was trained to fight through armies, take down insurrections, and protect soldiers."

I realized what he was getting at; until it is destroyed, a sword can only be one thing. "I understand," I moved next to him, getting a full view of his hanging head.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep the peace. For now," He looked up at me, and there was my somber expression staring back at me, "I'm trusting you to lead us."

My expression went straight to bewildered, "What do you mean?"

"When I fell back on Earth and learned that you would be joining us, I looked you up," He sat back, and I could tell he was impressed even through the helmet. "You were a shipmaster."

"Yes I was," I remembered the image of the Retributions Thunder, docking in the high charity, the vastness of space behind it.

"And then supreme commander," I remembered the pride I felt when one ship became many, all hanging onto my every word.

"And I failed," I deflated, watching the 'great' ring break apart by an explosion, and the burn on my chest as the crowds cheered to my branding. "Declared a hereti-"

"What happened with the rings doesn't matter," The Chief stood up, stopping me with a soft hand on my shoulder, "what matters is that you lead people. All kinds of people. The grunts, other elites, the hunters, jackals."

I chuckle, "and brutes."

"This-" He waved a hand to everything around us- "This is a ship." That caught me off guard, "The people in here are it's crew, with soldiers among them." He gripped both of my shoulders, my own eyes staring into me hard, "You're the only person here with the experience. It has to be you."

Despite his strong grip holding me in place...I felt myself getting lighter. I felt the weight shift off my shoulders- and I could see it shift off his too. It was not going to be like last time, because now I'm not alone in this. We had the same burden; now it was time to work on it together. And I never felt more relieved in my life.

I gripped his shoulders in turn, and I stared back at him, equaling the conviction he radiated, and I silently accepted the role group has placed on me- to be their shipmaster. To lead them through this chaotic void.

And so, I told my demon everything.

A/N: God. Finally. I had writer's block hard with this one, life becoming a bigger focus. On the upside, I now have loads more experience to draw inspiration from, and I'm definitely not giving up on this, and the temptation to rush is strong. Things are building up in the prison, albeit slowly, but hopefully the timely arrival of this second mysterious storyline will ease some appetites for excitement. Thanks for reading!