At Orion's Edge

by CIA 4UUUU

The Pillar of Creation and its sleeping occupant orbit a distant star at the edge of Orion's Spur. 170 million kilometers from this heavenly body is a planet unique to most others.

3. Chapter 3: Through the Valley and Forest

At Orion's Edge

Chapter 3: Through the Valley and Forest

Sitting on a crate, through the hangar's barriers, I gazed upon a bright mass of landmass and ocean. On the continents of Sanus, the deserts of Vacuo and the forests of Vale lit with orange and greens, dots of storms seen approaching its equatorial belt with flashes of lightning. The planet glittered like snow in tundra plains. It's a mystical sight, a moment which the first astronauts must have experienced gazing upon Earth for the first time.

Reminds me of home, except without the glassing.

Moments like this made space tolerable, almost. As livable the Pillar is, being trapped in cramped corridors and under artificial light did a number on my mental state, a sense of depression and anxiety creeping with each passing day. It seemed capable of driving the most hardened of my brothers to insanity. The sim chamber could only do so much, though that was perhaps I was aware of its artificial nature.

Won't be much longer.

I currently donned the armor, helmet and all with a few additional attachments. Given the potential threat the Grimm and humans posed, the augmentations and protection would be substantial, if not critical, in engaging them. The attachments themselves were more so for extra storage of survival and tactical instruments. The chest and right leg plating had affixed several pouches made of a durable material, their use in either storing ammo or other essentials. On the left of my chest, clasped to its sheath is a combat knife, and a detachable flashlight to the right. Attached to the helmet is a comms extension which will prove useful in boosting battlenet connectivity.

Not satisfied with the additional armor pieces, it felt necessary to have even more equipment on me. Next to me sat a large backpack of assorted tools and camping gear, designed to clasp to the armor's magnetic holster. The thing is also capable of holding two rifles or shotguns on its magnetic clamps (powered by Mjolnir). Even with all the extra gear, it still feels light.

Standing, I move towards the dropship, currently filled with equipment for the camping trip; a result of several days worth of planning.

The dropship, a D81 TC dubbed as a "Pelican" is not much different from prior iterations. It maintained the general shape iconic to its kind, the hull being more aerodynamic (as opposed to the blocky look). Etched in white, on its sides, are the insignia of the UNSC–an eagle with raised wings over a planet and banner. The primary coat is a green tone with segments of gray. Being an air-to-space vehicle, it was capable of withstanding intense temperatures and g-forces, the cockpit and compartment especially designed to ensure the safety of the pilots, passengers, and cargo. Part of this role also meant being able to provide fire support. At its front is a chain gun, an M121 capable of utilizing high caliber, Shield-to-Armor-Piercing (STAP) rounds (currently loaded) or High Explosive Dual Purpose (HEDP) ammo. I suspect that it was more than capable of taking out large groups of Grimm or Aura users should push come to shove.

"You sure about staying?" I asked Dash through the helmet's comms.

"It's not out of want, sir. It's necessary."

"You and I know that's bullshit." The ship's automated systems were more than capable of managing the ship, and it's not as though anyone would fly away with it. She isn't likely to break down again, even with the damage. The patchwork should hold over, Dash estimating that she should remain functional for a couple of decades without issue.

"Be as it may, someone has to keep their ears and eyes open. Soon enough I shall have contact with you on the surface."

He referred to the satellites. Communications with the Pillar will require an extensive relay, especially once she reaches far orbit. They would be launched for polar orbits. Ideally (given the size of Remnant) we would need 14 of them to ensure complete coverage. The 8 will have to do.

"You're not just gonna miss out on the fun, are you?" He had a duty to the ship's safety, though having him around would make the venture more enjoyable. He's one of the only remaining companions left.

"I'll find a means to keep myself entertained, and so shall you."

"It won't be the same." I'll miss you buddy.

"No it won't. Your wellbeing shouldn't depend on me anyways. That book of yours should have taught you as much."

You cheeky fucker, that book is personal!

I gave a deep sigh. Lifting the bag by its strap, I made my way towards the pelican's passenger compartment. A few minutes later–after checking the cargo's integrity, I sat myself in the cockpit. Beginning the ignition process prompted the back hatch to seal from the vacuum. Prior tests of the pelican's functions showed nothing out of the ordinary, it being of space and in-atmosphere flight. I nodded myself in satisfaction once hearing the engines ignite.

I asked over comms, "Can you take it from here?"

"Of course sir."

The pelican lurched upward and forward, moving towards the hangar's opening. Having passed through the energized barrier, a sense of weightlessness kicked in, the artificial gravity losing its influence. The sound of the engines became muted with a lack of atmosphere, only their vibrations being felt throughout the hull. Ever so slowly, the distance to the Pillar of Creation grew larger and larger.

"What sort of fun are you planning?" I asked.

"Opportunities will arise, and I shall make use of them when possible."

"Dash–".

"Nothing extreme I assure you."

He means to do something extreme, then. I decided to let it go. It wasn't worth getting worked up over as I couldn't do much to stop him from, say, teasing the natives.

I unlatched myself from the cockpit's chair, drifting myself towards the back of the pelican using various grips to propel forward. I came to the back viewport.

"Fancy a look, sir?"

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed one of the ship's cameras, flashing green to indicate his presence.

"Admiring her beauty." I answered.

The Pillar of Creation came into full view, albeit on her shaded side. Her dimensions are standard to most frigates, being some 700 meters long and 160 in both height and width. With the starboard side displayed, her stern (the engineering segment) had vertical plating (or "wings") which jutted away from the hull and behind her main engines. The hull extended smoothly, her topside relatively flat with titanium plating angling down toward the sides, one of the few bumps being the observation deck that sat just above the hangar bays. Her array of turrets and missile pods aligned the upper, mid, and lower segments of the hull. More than half-way from the engines, two bows extended separately; the upper one (which would be where the MAC gun sits) reached further with an extensive comms array, having adjustable paneling for protection; the lower bow comprising the EMP gun, a seemingly large barrel humming blue with energy covered by titanium plating. Cosmetic and structural damage dotted her form, most notable are the plasma scorches toward the back, that sizable hole puncturing into the reactor's chamber. She definitely had seen better days.

With Pillar's form becoming a small dot in the backdrop of space, I made my way back to the cockpit.

"How's our trajectory?" I strapped myself in. The view offered the sight of Sanus, its east coast entering dusk.

"Latitude and longitude coordinates are still locked for the Vale's northern territory." Numbers were rattled off, pinpointing flat terrain next to sudden elevation. "This will put you in the Faded Valley between the White Cap mountains and Red Peaks."

I shifted my attention to one of the monitors confirming the coordinates. With the maps and census data we poured over, my destination appeared to be sparsely populated of both Grimm and the natives. If things got too hairy, I could make the return trip within the day. Any longer and the Pillar will be long gone.

Flashes of light soon appeared, air friction building up as the pelican rapidly descended. I grabbed the control yoke as training kicked in.

---

The feeds lost sight of pelican 556 some time ago. Current readings showed it approaching a velocity of some 27,000 km/hr at an eastward approach. With the current signal strength, connection will be lost in 20 minutes, by which he or the autopilot will need to guide it down.

Running several thousand simulations within a second, I sent adjustments to its computer. "Sir, I am adjusting your speeds to 26,000 km/hr for safe entry."

His voice sounded over the channel, "Copy that."

With his current distance, now seemed appropriate to begin the second phase.

DASH:prime launch

…

OP SYS:error…

OP SYS:registration failure

OP SYS:object 'cassius iii' not properly registered with orbit index

Oops

OP SYS:registration confirmed

OP SYS:parameters established

…

OP SYS:priming launch…

…

OP SYS:satellites 1-8 set

OP SYS:no malfunctions detected

OP SYS:run systems check?

No need to test them for the 132nd time.

DASH:begin launch sequence: sat1 'jaeger' for 'alpha' orbit–

Another few thousand lines of instructions were provided. I only needed milliseconds to confirm that each one would follow the most optimal orbits. Once that was accomplished–

OP SYS:beginning launch sequence…

OP SYS:5

OP SYS:4

OP SYS:3

OP SYS:2

OP SYS:1

Visuals and audio confirmed 2 satellites leaving from hangars A and B, speeding off toward their destinations. The next several hours will see the rest of the satellites deploy, and until then I will have little to no contact with him. The next 20 minutes should allow for some "downtime".

Now, where was I with the native's classical age of music?

---

As the ship found its ground, the star Cassius had already set. It took a minute for the cabin to equalize the air pressure, allowing the back hatch to unlock. A view of the outside showed a sky with bands of yellow and blues, the Red Peaks casting their shadows over the valley.

I snatched both DMR and shotgun from the cargo in case those creatures (or anyone with ill intent) tried their luck. Attached to the ends of both were silencers to reduce the noise.

With the rifle drawn, I swept the immediate area. Extending the range of my motion tracker to 60 meters revealed little to no movement. This went on for some twenty minutes.

As expected, the valley appeared to contain little (if any) Grimm activity. Even in the darkness, I could see that the landscape was somewhat bare of life (except for the occasional bird and reptile).

The immediate environment had the look of a high desert, the trees and brush ooking similar to that of Western Juniper and Sage bushes found on Earth (the natives referring to them as High Bark and Wire bush). Given the altitude of some 2900 meters above sea level, the lack of consistent rainfall, drastic changes in temperature, and nutrient-poor soil did not permit much vegetation growth. Sections of ground had collections of basaltic rock, indicative of past volcanic activity which streamed from Red Peaks.

The weather could be considered chilly (were it not for my armor). Patches of snow dotted the landscape, and both mountain ranges still had significant cover. Given the planet's orbital position, part of Sanus should be in the middle of Spring.

Observing an incline a mile away, I made way towards it (having locked the pelican before leaving). The trip was a 3 to 4 minute jog before I hoofed up the face to an overhang. The rest of the slope merged into a steep cliff for a considerable height. Though I could scale it, there wouldn't be much sense given the hundred or so meter elevation I was already at. I planted myself into a prone position near its edge. The view offered a site of the valley for miles. Using my helmet's zoom function, the only activity I noticed was a pack of deer(?) traveling westward to the canyon's mouth as well as the occasional bird.

No Grimm or human activity.

I brought my attention to the landscape.

The maps showed that Three Brothers should be located to my east…

Sure enough they sat some 46-50 kilometers in the distance. My helmet was helpful in highlighting them, providing the name of each formation and approximate distance.

Triangulating my position to Mt. Felen to the north… This puts me about 325 km from Vale's eastern coast line and some 100 km from the mouth of the valley. That meant the nearest village was 90 km to the north-west, about three-day's worth of traveling given the uneven topography (the hills and occasional crevice).

A cross reference with digital maps of Vale confirmed as much, and once the satellites were in place, geolocational data should match as well.

Remaining prone for another hour, it appeared that nothing had spotted my landing. The amount of noise generated would have caught the attention of anyone 12 km away. There is a chance that the natives or Grimm simply didn't notice… or care…

Who am I bullshitting? Someone must have seen my entry. That trail of light is practically a beacon for miles. It is for that reason that we had to make the ship scarce before someone came a-lookin'. With luck, they would probably chalk it down to a meteor.

I made my way back to the pelican, keeping my signature low. It was nearly pitch black, the last strands of light giving way to a view of starry night and an illuminated sight of the Milky Way, with the shattered moon rising above Mt. Felen.

Entering the upper stratosphere was when I lost signal to Pillar. The ship likely made it to otherside of the planet in which the signal strength is too weak. Our plan relied on getting the satellites operational for Dash to take control of the dropship, bringing her back to the Pillar.

Back at the pelican, I went into the cockpit for its comms. Confirming the link to my helmet, I sent a message–

S7:dash, do you read?

…

Silence. It seemed the satellites were not in position yet. That, and the ship was likely still out of range.

The waiting was slow and agonizing as both me and the pelican were sitting ducks. After some 30 minutes of patrolling the area, I got a response.

DASH:i read you

S7:status?

Dash:green

DASH:another 40 minutes before the network is fully operational

DASH:the signal will be spotty until then

That concludes "phase 2."

S7:can you take control of the pelican?

DASH:yes

Time to begin "phase 3."

Over the course of 30 minutes, I sorted most of the gear onto a robotic carrier, aptly named "Camel." Its dual, rubberized tracks and tow hook would allow it to traverse most surfaces (from wetlands to steep inclines). If it gets stuck, the ability to "jump"–with the use of four propellants–will help to correct that. The thing's dimensions came to 4 meters in length, 2 m wide, and about 1 m in height. Coupled with its battery and solar array, it could run for more than a year without maintenance. The thing is painted in a camo of greens and browns for the surrounding environment. In the case that this wasn't sufficient, it could also go active camo for a period of time (50 minutes if remember).

I had packed away enough MREs (an assortment of meats–beef, reptile, and bird–assorted grains, breads, drink mixes, and a desert–usually a sponsored candy brand) and water for a month and a half, after which I would need to rely on either the generosity of the natives or my own resourcefulness. Dash deemed most of the food and water on Remnant safe for consumption, though alternatively, more MREs could be delivered from the Pillar if it came down to it.

The camping gear consists of a camo tarp and tent setup–3.6 m by 4 m when erect–, one sleeping mat (which will be poorly abused thanks to the armor) and blanket, a portable broadcasting station, cooking ware, hygiene kit, and first aid kit along with 4 canisters of biofoam. Half of this gear I packed in the backpack, the rest stored in the Camel.

The weapons I opted to bring included the M665 DMR–part of a marksman rifle series, this model sported a smaller barrel for the newer caliber of ammo types, capable of utilizing STAP rounds–, an M210 shotgun–a Close Assault Weapon System (CAWS), compatible with G-Force Magnum shells, ammo strong enough to decimate almost any shield system with 1 shell (an improvement over the average of 3)–, a disassembled RRR10 Sniper Rifle–part of the 2nd series, the first sniper rifle to utilize miniaturized-railgun technology and tungsten ammo, (capable of taking the hat off of anyone at 3000 meters)–, an M6 sidearm, and a toy uncommonly deployed with spartans. Along with these weapons are spare parts and cleaning gear (for repair and maintenance) as well as spare ammunition. Other components included minor attachments: flashlights, muzzle breakers, silencers, and scopes

Minimalistically (perhaps more reasonable for recon), I could probably get by with just the DMR and Shotgun, but because I could afford the carry capacity, and given the uniqueness of Remnant's inhabitants, the selection seems appropriate. The rifles would allow for mid-to-long-range engagement while both the pistol and shotgun cover for close range. Both the sniper rifle and shotgun would be stored in the camel's side compartment as I didn't feel like lugging around their bulky forms.

DASH:do you really expect to generate that much noise?

I frowned internally. It's not as though I had the forgotten silencers.

S7:maybe… maybe not.

DASH: :/

As I continued to sort through the items I came upon two armor modules for Mjolnir, those being the mk. III overshield and mk. IX active camo. Selecting the second, I clasped it to my back above the tailbone into a specialized slot.

G4 MJOLNIR SYS:checking integrant compatibility

…

G4 MJOLNIR SYS:error detected

G4 MJOLNIR SYS:current os version 2.104

G4 MJOLNIR SYS:please update

I mentally groaned.

S7:dash, a little help?

DASH:already done

G4 MJOLNIR SYS:retrieving update, please standby

…

G4 MJOLNIR SYS:update complete

G4 MJOLNIR SYS:camo integrant detected

G4 MJOLNIR SYS:installing firmware

…

G4 MJOLNIR SYS:installation complete

G4 MJOLNIR SYS:stay quite

S7:thanks

Given the wide terrain, the camo should help reduce my profile. The best defense to any threat was not to be detected.

Packing away the last of the items–the very last one being the guitar–, I prompted the carrier to exit the pelican (it being linked with my helmet's systems). Hefting the backpack to my back magnetic clamp as well as holstering the DMR and pistol (switching the shotgun out), I followed after it.

Standing clear of the pelican, I messaged Dash.

S7:dash, i'm good

S7:take her away

DASH:copy sir

DASH:i wish you good fortunes

S7:this isn't a goodby

DASH:it's only a formality :|

…

S7:you as well

DASH: :D

I smiled a bit.

With that, the engines of the Pelican came to life. She lifted itself some distance before rocketing itself at a steep incline, the light of its engines soon disappearing into the night sky.

I was already moving before it lifted. It was a matter of time before someone came investigating. Besides, as awake as I was, why not get a head start?

Hsr'x piezi lmw pmklx. Mx mw xss hevo.

---

S7:she's away

Feedback indicated as much.

DASH:do you have a way point set?

S7:no, i've got a vector

I compiled a packet, forwarding it to his armor. Mother forbid he gets lost.

S7:got it, thanks D

Estimates show he should arrive at "[Laffa] Town" within 2 ½ days. Satellite imagery shows uneven terrain and a few obstacles not highlighted on their maps. Given that it sits next to a river, it shouldn't be too difficult for him to find.

The village itself is smaller than the average, carrying a population between 20-60, fluctuating depending on mining activity (by the Ame Corporation, specializing in copper, iron, and dust mining). It thrives on year-round hunting of canidae, cervidae, and the occasional ursidae (the amount of Earth-like animals found on Remnant still fascinates me) supplementing itself with plant-based foods traded with passing caravans and the occasional bullhead shipment. The village acted as a rest stop for said traders as well as Hunter patrols. Its 20 structures and wall are made of wood (sourced from the nearby Everglades Forest) and stone (likely volcanic), operating off-the-grid with no plumbing and powergrid; relying on Dust for energy and the river for their hygiene and–ahm–waste. The last notable structure is a broadcast tower connected with Vale's CCT network.

In the Everglades, running north in a 300 km radius, are the settlements of [Ansel] (to the north-west), [Melo], and [Briss] (straight to the north, with [Briss] sitting by a sizable lake and [Melo] next to an ocean bay), significantly larger in size. The first two have a railroad connecting each of them to Vale, with only a river reaching between [Laffa] and [Briss] and running towards the settlement of Blue Lake some 200 km south east.

It struck me how profound of an influence the Grimm had on the development of Remnant civilizations, so much so that the planet could be classified as a frontier colony–a designation given to inhabited planets with fewer than 500 million and being (relatively) untamed. With their technological development, they should have been able to expand. At Earth's equivalent level of development, her population had reached some 8.5 billion by the mid 21st century, with megaregions dotting most continents. By my estimates–based on census data and robust population modeling–, Remnant's inhabitants sit at some 340 million, the largest cities (or "kingdoms") ranging between 60 to 80 million.

The last several decades of pop growth reached a capping point. Many factors attributed to this, but the top two appears to be a general decline of birth rates (which I suspect coincides with the kingdoms' industrialization and development), and the grimm.

By all accounts, the Grimm are nothing more than savage animals. It's curious how hell-bent they are on eradicating humanity (or perhaps higher-functioning life in general). They aren't an enemy as ruthless as the Covenant, not as insidious as the Flood, nor as enigmatic as the Nous; They are simply stubborn. Their seemingly endless numbers (the native's census data is unclear on their exact population size, stating that they simply "appear", which is utter nonsense) is enough to overwhelm even their most fortified settlements. Mountain Glenn would be their most recent example, a tragic one at that.

What motivates these creatures? Hunger? No, otherwise they would target local wildlife. Predators typically hunt after those least likely to put up a fight (among other factors). Of most cataloged creatures, almost all tend to avoid hunting humans as they quickly find that it is extremely fatal. Is it a defense of their territory? Perhaps, but this doesn't explain why they actively attack long-established settlements. Is it a vendetta of sorts? Now there's a hypothesis. By native understanding, the Dark God had abandoned Grimm in favor of humanity. Their "hatred" might be jealousy that daddy decided to ignore them for us. Whether this has any validity is uncertain but could indicate some greater intelligence.

The threat the Grimm posed left many settlers to seek naturally defensive positions (I.E. hills, canyons, mountain ranges, bodies of water, cliff sides, etc.). The main "kingdoms" are no exception to this. In Vale's case, the city is walled by a mountain range–The Myst Mountains–to its east, the only entries being north and south. From there came construction of an extensive wall system, 3 layers of retaining walls in case one fell after the other. This fell into a "slow retreat" strategy for extensive grimm attacks. The other cities of Vacuo, Atlas, and Mistral employed different doctrines given their own topography.

Coming up with an in-depth strategy to deal with the savages will prove challenging. If the creatures did indeed "spawn" from nothingness (which thoroughly breaks all known laws of physics), total eradication is a near impossibility. Furthermore, this creates a logistics nightmare. Unless there was a seemingly endless resource stream to draw from, even their best defenses would collapse from continued onslaught.

This conundrum should occupy a substantial chunk of time, but before getting too invested, I need more data.

---

It was mid morning, the sun about peaking above White Caps. Time? 1037.

I could keep going past nightfall, at which fatigue would begin setting in, and that would be in another 10 hours or so. I hadn't slept throughout the entire night, which didn't do much to my awareness. Just to be on the safe side, I should probably camp at 1800. In 4 hours, I would need to snack soon given my hunger (sometimes a light breakfast did that to you).

The helmet's internal clock had been adjusted to match with the planet's rotation. The days roughly matched those of Earth's (within a 20 to 30 minute difference), the years being significantly longer–some 405 days. Consequently, this made the seasons lasting, more so than Reach's.

The landscape had gotten considerably hillier. I was traversing in a depression so as not to be easily spotted. It seemed to have been a river at one point (evidenced by light sediment layering the top).

Animal life appeared sparse. Once in a while, I'll glimpse the occasional canis (they looked like Earth's coyotes), deer, or bug (some unfortunate to be introduced by my boot). There was the obvious concern of grimm, but I had yet to encounter any.

Some distance to my left the ground lifted to a steep incline, merging with Red Peaks' cliffs. Its geography along the top formed rows of karst towers covered in sheets of snow. 80 kilometers south-east sits the distant sight of a dormant stratovolcano, having once burst through the folds of the mountain range in a forgotten age. Its colors gleamed red and grays of igneous rock, the remains of lava flows which plagued these lands.

High clouds sailed across the sky, giving the area a gloomy look. Occasionally, god rays would break through bathing the region in light. It provided some warmth, though not much. Current temperature readings showed it was 12 degrees celsius.

The camel was easing itself along at a leisurely pace. True to its durability and resilience, the terrain had yet to stop it in its tracks.

Speaking of tracks, I had been careful to cover them lest someone or something was following. I was lucky to find large barren patches of basalt to cross. They tend not to leave dirt prints, though they sometimes crumble under my weight.

There was barely a noise, only a slight breeze and the crunching of rock and snow as well as the Camel's tracks moving. A thought crossed my mind: if no one was around to hear noise, was it really made?

…

Doesn't matter.

S7:play soundtrack – "2000's rock hits"

It generally wasn't the best idea to be distracted with music, especially since you wouldn't be able to hear your surroundings too well. But dammit, sometimes a soldier needs something to relax with, and it's not as though I'd be blasting for all to hear.

Why did I have music in my suit? If it is capable of housing a star-ship AI, may as well use some of that space for tunes.

"Bro, do you really listen to oldies?"

"Can't beat the classics, Bodimeister." Ramona then proceeded to stick her tongue out.

"Yaalon, could you please tell her she has bad taste?"

"Yaalon!"

"I'm afraid he's right."

She pouted, again sticking her tongue out. Really, it wasn't bad music. In fact, I kinda enjoyed it. It was like Flip music the trainers put on over the weekend as 'motivation.' I mean, it was leagues better than the live fire and screaming of the sergeants.

I was knocked out of my thoughts from movement pinging on the motion tracker. 4 blue dots at 100 meters out (the edge of sensors). Given the size, their owners were probably no larger than a cervid.

Blue would usually indicate neutral contacts. There were other color codes–yellow for allies and red for hostiles (provided their transponder equipment registered as such). By default, the tracker would attempt to proactively register contacts as either "ally" or "non ally" given battlenet data and behavioral recognition. I had it set to assume all contacts as neutral given there would be no practical way of distinguishing enemies and friendlies. This means that all the blue dots are suspect.

They seemed unusually concentrated, like they were circling around something. Might be worth investigating.

I paused the music and brought the Camel close to several boulders of granite, just at the edge of the depression. Clasping the backpack to it, I grabbed the silenced DMR which had been attached to the bag's side. Checking the M6 (also silenced) showed it was chambered. Satisfied, I gave the Camel a command.

S7:camel210: camo on

The surface began bending light, its immediate profile becoming semi-translucent showing the rock behind it. Still in working order.

I turned its camo off, the bend of light receding to reveal its normal form. Several more prompts programmed it to activate camo to anyone entering a 30 meter radius, a little more than the 25 meters which would be needed for someone to spot it.

Next was to test the armor's module.

S7:g4 mjolnir sys – "camo" – on

Looking to my forearm, light began to bend around it until I could see a warped image of the ground in front of me, a faint outline being the only visual tell. The mark IX was capable of longer active camo than prior generations for a total of 50 or so minutes. Mjolnir's power systems were capable of running it indefinitely, though prolonged use is discouraged given a tendency to overheat. I disabled the camo, satisfied with its condition.

Confirming that the other armor systems were in working order, I went towards the motion. The mounds of rock and dirt provided me cover from direct line of sight. Once 30 meters away, I activated camo. Reaching the top of a mound provided me a sight of a shallow gorge with a ledge that overhung the east side. I knelt, careful not to kick up dust.

At the bottom of the gorge were 4 demonic creatures, and a 5th larger, alpha-type that looked injured. They prowled the area as though guarding it, the thing sheltering under an overhang licking itself. The helmet's magnified image showed the wounds to be long slices coupled with deep holes and reddish bruising.

S7:dash, you have eyes?

He should be able to see through the helmet. One of its features included a robust image-capturing equipment for real-time feeds.

I kept my eye on them, occasionally checking my tracker and surroundings for additional movement. They had yet to sense me.

…

DASH:natives identify these creatures as 'beowolfs'

DASH:standard type of grimm

One stopped to look in my direction. My finger rested on the trigger, the rifle aimed at its head. I didn't know how well my bullets would work against them. It'd be reasonable to assume that armor piercing rounds are enough to separate the head from the spine (even with their bone plating).

DASH:see about collecting samples?

We'll see.

It kept staring intently at me. Did it really want to do this?

Before pulling, the thing went about moving as though unaware of my presence. Huh, guess they don't have that good of eyesight.

I waited until all four were in sight–

*bap!* *bap!* *bop!* *bap!*

The sounds of the rifle echoed throughout the valley.

They dropped like sacks in quick succession. Looks like the bullets easily found their new homes.

The next moment gave me pause. As quickly as they fell, a trailing mist began to emit from their forms, first from bullet wounds. I curiously watched on as their corpses seemingly evaporated into nothingness, first their black hides then their bones. The whole process lasted 3 minutes, up until nothing remained.

DASH:fascinating

S7:what the hell was that?

DASH:i am unsure

…

DASH:their studies suggest a body composition that is "antithetical" to this world

DASH:perhaps by compounds which shouldn't exist in living organisms?

DASH:incapacitate the alpha, collect samples

DASH:if you would

As soon as the 4 beowolfs fell, the alpha went high alert. Similar to its brothers, it also seems unable to spot me. It attempted to rise a few times only to collapse and hiss in pain. The thing crawled back to its corner, growling as it did so.

It's not going anywhere.

I collected the casings that had ejected from the rifle. Rather not leave any trace of my presence.

The Camel had the test kit with it, having the necessary tools to analyze the specimen Dash requested. Shuffling back down the hill, I deactivated the cloak and jogged back.

It didn't take long to return to the same area. Again cloaked, I saw the alpha still cornered against the side of the gorge. If I learned anything from traping rodents with Ujarak, it's "don't be a dumb donkey."

*bap!* *bop!* *crack!* *bop!*

It howled in pain, in an otherworldly screech befitting its form. It clearly didn't like the fact that bullets were taking precious real estate in its front and hind legs, the appendages going noticeably stiff. Just as happened with its brothers, the holes also began to emit mist.

Sliding down the gorge kicked up a stream of dust as I landed in the trough. The alpha locked onto my form with the active camo off. It was bound to notice me given how close I was approaching, with or without camo.

I stood at a safe distance. The thing growled, staring at me with a look of… hatred? The shape of its red eyes gave the impression of anger. (Though if I were to be shot in my limbs, I'd be rightfully pissed too.)

Like its brothers, it sported protrusions of bone-like material at the elbows and along its spine. Unlike its brother's, his were more pronounced, and they had clear signs of chipping and sharper edging. Its entire face was covered in a solid mask of the stuff, several intricate lines of blood red running parallel along its snout and around the eyes. By its form, it looked as though it could stand on its hind legs. The overall thing appears similar to the werewolves of English folklore.

Speaking of English folklore, it seems highly suspect that the natives would decide to name the things–once translated–after the Germanic legend Beowulf. Coincidence? Possibly. It didn't matter at the moment.

I took notice of how extensive the injuries were. The long cuts, bullet holes, and the deep bruising…

Someone's after it.

A sense of being watched washed over me. I checked my surroundings…

Nothing…

The motion tracker also showed no movement.

Being next to someone's kill was a bad sign. Hunters–from what we understood–tended to be territorial over their bounties.

Better make this quick.

I took tentative steps to see if it would take a swipe at me. The alpha's left paw came up weakly, only to drop back down as it continued to hiss in pain. Stepping back, I retrieved the test kit from my leg pouch, first snatching three syringes and a sealed container.

Placing my left foot against its head pinned it down, the limbs weakly clawing at my armor. I stabbed the syringe in its neck, drawing a black, viscous fluid. Seeing the liquid begin to evaporate, I quickly capped the syringe, and the dissipation stopped.

The process repeated for the remaining syringes, during which I had to place my right knee over its head as the alpha, with futility, tried to chew my armored leg. It had a hell of a bite as I was able to feel the pressure, though it appears titanium plate is too much for it.

S7:next sample?

DASH:retrieve a tooth

I opened the container and sat it to my left. Shifting my boot to force its mouth wider, I grabbed one of its bare tooths and pulled. The thing yelped, a tar substance gushing out before misting from where its tooth was. It was in the container before it could dissipate.

Securing the samples in the pouches, I removed my foot from the maw, ripping away several more tooths in the process.

S7:i'm gone, someone after this thing

DASH:understood

I left the alpha in fate's hands. As far as I'm concerned, it didn't matter if it bled out or if the hunters got to the thing.

Before long, I made it back to the camel. Securing the samples in the carrier and reloading the DMR took some 5 minutes.

After traveling for some time, I noticed 4 contacts arriving at the edge of the tracker, from the north west. Must be the hunters.

I brought us behind another collection of boulders, rough in texture and black as the streams of igneous rock.

Being spotted was the last thing I wanted, at least not now. It was best to introduce myself at the appropriate time. I wasn't exactly sure how they'd react to a 7-foot tall, power-armored soldier.

All four dots gathered around the area where the alpha was–to my immediate west.

…

The sound of distant gunshots could be heard.

If I'm lucky, they didn't hear the DMR go off… Shit, I left tracks at the gorge… and the bullets…

It didn't seem likely that they evaporated with the corpses. If the hunters had any worth in tracking, they'd likely notice the pieces of metal sitting where they'd been abandoned by their hosts.

S7:possible contacts

DASH:affirmative

Silence… The tracker showed them moving toward our last spot along the river bed.

DASH:i have their positions

Did he now? Must be their [scrolls].

DASH:67.7 meters due west, 91.1 degrees

DASH:approaching your position at 7km/hr

DASH:spotted?

I didn't bother to answer, too focused on the tracker and immediate environment.

One of the dots came in about 30 meters before stopping. I activated both of our camos. For minutes, it looked to pace around the area.

…

I heard shouting, in a language (most likely Brunic) unfamiliar to the ears.

It and the other 3 dots began retreating towards the north. Once they were 50 meters away, I deactivated camo.

I needed to be sure they didn't circle back

I laid my side against the rocks, wielding the DMR. For 45 minutes, no other movement registered. I activated camo again and peaked up. Couldn't be too careful.

…

Sure enough, it looked as though they left.

Scouting the area showed no signs of the hunters. Finding their tracks confirmed them heading north along the gorge.

Climbing a sizable hill and going prone, I spotted their silhouettes in the distance. It was a minute before they descended on the other side of a hill.

I couldn't help but release a sigh.

---

It took some time searching an area to camp which blended in with the background. (I didn't want to stand out like a man caught naked in the hot springs.) The campsite sat in an area which was surrounded by large boulders and rising mounds of dirt. Its position elevated to a considerable height.

At knelt just before the rim, poking my head above enough for the view. There is range to it, enough to spot a river that ran along Red Peaks before slithering toward the center of the valley. The hills had gradually returned to a flat geography, and miles away I saw the mountains flattening. Just beyond lay the edge of the Everglades. That meant that… [Laffa]?

"[La–fe, to–own]... [Laffea Towon]..."

Still gotta get used to the phonetics.

The town was still a day's worth of traveling away. With the progress we made, I'd be arriving sooner than expected, Perhaps by mid afternoon.

The star had begun to set, its orange rays casting light on the clouds sailing along Red Peaks. With the helmet off (stashed away in the tent), I noticed the temperature drop. Could be 10 degrees by the feel of it. I looked to the sky, admiring the deep orange hue and pinkish clouds. What is the time? 1811.

I turned to view the camp below, admiring my work. A sizable tarp was propped over the camel to give it shelter from the elements. A tent was also sat next to it, the entrance facing away and to the south east–shielded from the wind. Inside was the sleeping mat and mobile comms array, and a portable computer hooked to the lab module, currently analyzing the samples gathered from the alpha. The power for these devices fed off of the camel's battery, which should last throughout the night (and then several days) without a recharge.

I sat on a boulder with the tent behind me. In front of me, a small table stood with a mouth-watering, delicious, gourmet MRE… In all seriousness, they weren't that bad. While most dishes were meant to provide some 1,200 calories, providing the essential nutrients and protein, these had double the intake seeing as I burn through calories like the Covenant burnt through Reach… Too soon? This particular ration consisted of vi'ken (avian meat sourced from Gamma Pavonis), a side of blue beans, and mashed potatoes. Applying its flameless heater and water brought the dish to an edible state, an aroma of seasonings filling my nostrils. It didn't even compare to the meals back home, but it was close enough.

I dug into the meal's package to see if there was a dessert item. They usually carried a bland candy bar compared to the stuff sold to civilians. But again, better than nothing.

…

Oh shit… No way… A Milky Way!

After a hearty meal–disposing of the plate, food wear, and packaging (burying it and letting biodegradation do its work)–, I occupied myself with one other task. Cleaning the DMR was straight forward, as was the M6 side arm. Testing their mechanisms showed nothing out of the ordinary. I stashed the rifle in the tent, clipping a mag into the M6 and I checked on the lab module's progress. The contraption is a sizable box, no more than the length of my arm. Its interior was capable of sealing itself, simulating various conditions and applying different variables to any sample introduced. The imaging and data produced would be sent to the Pillar, where Dash would conduct extensive analysis on their exact nature.

Sliding into the tent, having to crouch down slightly, I picked up the handheld intercom hooked to the comms array. It was set on an encrypted channel for anyone trying to listen in (as they'd find it difficult). "How's it coming along?"

…

"Slow, it's becoming exceedingly difficult to match the substance, much less define it."

"Any guess?"

"It would be hilariously wrong."

My interest really only extended as far as curiosity. Still, I couldn't help but tickle his CPU.

"Perhaps the tooth will bring something?"

"Perhaps… You're distracting me."

"Dash?"

…

"Hey Dash–"

"Cease your prattle, Sherlock."

The joy of pressing his buttons. "Not gonna tell me a bedtime story?"

"Will you please go to sleep like a good little spartan?"

Well something got his socks wet.

"Okay Watson." I sat the intercom down, disconnecting the channel.

I briefly considered turning off-and-on the comms array just to mess with him some more… Fuck it.

*click*

…

The computer pinged a response–

DASH:must you be a bug in my cpu?

Alright, that's enough.

*click*

Stepping out of the tent, I again walked up to the ridge, witnessing the last of the light shimmer away to purple and blue hues. The landscape became colored in the same orange tones, contrasted by deep shades casted by the rolling hills and mountains.

Ever so gently, a consistent breeze brushed against my face. I felt my hair flutter, strands of blond covering my eyes. My skin stung from the cold, a strong contrast to the warmth of the armor.

Damn, did I miss this.

Not long after did I catch shut-eye for the night. I'd be waking up at 0400, so better to rest as early as possible.

It didn't take long for REM to kick in.

---

The full moons of Csodaszarvas and Turul came into view, their brown and gray lights casted over the grassy fields just outside of Camp Johnson. I was sitting amongst the grass, gazing at the glasslands some miles away, sheens of moonlight reflecting strongly as though it were snow. It felt as though I had been staring at it for hours.

I sensed someone next to me. Looking left I saw Ramona, sitting cross legged and slightly hunched over. The light reflected off her pale skin, her freckled face clearly defined. Her dark hair glimmered, neatly combed and at shoulder length… Shouldn't it be shaved?

Funny, she looks younger since I last saw her.

She bobbed her head, and it was then that I noticed the wireless earbud in her right ear, and in her hands a Vec–a phone no larger than her palm. I caught a glimpse of the word "Train" on the screen, the rest being blocked by the fingers.

"Still can't believe you actually listen to that old stuff."

She turned to face me, shooting a smirk. "Says the bloomin' dunderhead who also listens to it."

She had me there.

"Only because it's your fault, ya' know."

She takes out her right earbud, shoving it in my face. I pulled back. "Cooooooome oooooon, you're really missing out!"

Leaning in, she attempted to stuff it in my left ear.

"Alright, alright! I'll put the darn thing on!" I grabbed the device, fitting it to my right ear. Gradually, the vague sounds of a strumming guitar and drums came forth, the volume gradually increased to a comfortable level, and so to did the bob of my head.

We sat in comfortable silence, long enough for the last track to end. I kept staring at the glasslands, occasionally looking toward the distant twin spires of Mt. Ganix, still covered in blankets of snow. Supposedly, when the plasma fell, it had cut the mountain in half.

"Why do you think they did it?" I asked.

"Who?"

"The Covenant, why did they go this far?" I gestured to the glasslands. Curiously, there was a deeper, paler reflection than before.

Ramona paused for a moment. "Proooobably 'cause they were told to?"

"No, I mean… Why did they do it?"

She pauses again.

…

"I think it was because they were scared."

"Scared?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, think about it–they had a pact, a unity which kept order and stability. Those are good things, aren't they?"

I nodded, unsure of where she was taking this.

"Their religion provided these. It relied on the belief they were to inherit their gods' artifacts, to ascend with them, and in discovering us, it was either them or us."

She seemed to mimic Mother during history lessons.

"Sounds more like jealousy."

"Hmmmm…" It was then I noticed her pupils dilated. They appeared mismatched, like a poor mimicry. Her eyes also seem to emit an ethereal glow.

She spoke again. "Though… if your entire foundation rested on the promise of ascension, you'd probably do all that you can to see that it isn't taken away from you, right?"

"I don't know, I guess I'm not an evil prophet."

She snorted, black ichor dripping from her nose as she did so. It didn't bother me… It… It does…

"What makes you scared, Qsfz?"

…

"Being alone." I admitted.

My peripheral seemingly vanished, the surrounding grass fields and distant glasslands fading into obscure blackness. Her face became uncanny–something having to do with the eyes, as though they stretched into themselves. Her skin looks paler too.

She leaned into me. I sat there numb, unsure of how to respond. All I knew was to ycmg wr.

The encroaching blurriness gave way to pitch blackness. Four distinct, ghostly lights appeared around us. Why did they seem familiar?

Ycmg wr!

In a soft voice, she spoke. "Tubjofe jt zpvs dbowbt, ijt ivohfs ibt esjwfo ebhhfst joup tbojuz boe uxjtufe…"

A chorus of voices sounded in distinct tones. They repeated:

"Zdnh xs!"

---

Tmhq iq nqqz uybdueazqp?

Xqrf uz m pmdw oadzqd?

At sap, paz'f xqf uf sqf ge.

Paz'f xqf uf sqf ge, Mdftgd.

---

Smoke rose from the settlement. As I awoke with a nasty headache at 0400 or so, I noticed the signs of a fire, a distant glow of orange which blanketed the area. Expecting the worst, I deconstructed the camp and moved with haste.

The trip to Laffe was uneventful, thankfully. I hadn't much of a chance, nor the priority, to enjoy the scenery as I had rushed. There is a good chance something went terribly wrong, and if there were lives in danger, I needed to know. It was 1246 by the time the village's wall came into view.

Lying prone on the crest of a hill afforded a clear view. A pair of standard binocs gave a clearer image, the helmet not quite having the magnification I needed, their image displayed in front of me.

Immediately apparent was the sizable section missing, looking as though it had been rocked by a blast. The immediate segments to its left an right became charred as the fires continued raging.

Tiny dots of black mass scurried about the perimeter, hoping in and out hole looking for something. Has to be the grimm.

S7:any distress signal?

With any hope, their CCT substation could still be working. I hadn't picked up any signal on my end, perhaps he could.

…

DASH:nothing sir

Concerning.

This has the smell of a raid. Remnant is no stranger to banditry considering reports of roaming "clans" and "tribes" taking residence in certain regions. It's impossible to know which group is responsible. If this was one of the clans, the Matholwch would be the most likely. There was also the suspected hunter team from yesterday, the prospect of rogue hunters not too improbable. On the grimm side, there were a few types I would only consider being capable of causing this much damage. This either was a sizable horde or one the "fabled" dragons. None of the grimm present could do this damage.

S7:any chatter about [Laffe] burning?

…

DASH:some from [briss]

DASH:vale authorities are aware, but i suspect a slow response

S7:how slow are we talking?

DASH:2 to 3 days

DASH:their hunters are preoccupied with other raids to the south east

Not quick enough.

In continued observation, the grimm kept frantically circling about. They clearly sensed something. Unbelievable to us is their sense of "negative emotions"–which boils down anxiety, dread, fear, etc. I didn't trust this to be true given that no animal in the known universe uses emotion to track its prey. Even if emotion could be sensed, it is a highly impractical method of hunting humans as it's not as though we're emitting fear at all times.

It was then I noticed a massive, black object circle around the left, no more taller than some 19 stories.

S7:elephant grimm

S7:it's huge

…

DASH:goliath

DASh:keep your distance

I crawled my way back down the hill towards the camel. I needed to switch out my armament.

Assembling the RRR10 rifle took less than a minute. Its overall design wasn't too dissimilar to the SRS rifles. The "barrel" (if it could be called that) was essentially two prongs of magnetic coils which stuck out a meter from the main body. At the butt stock rested the battery pack, which is capable of firing 60 or so rounds before needing a recharge. Its hell of a charge meant it couldn't sustain rapid fire at risk of overheating (which is kept in check with built-in safety measures). The mag itself holds some 5 or so tungsten rounds, meant to withstand hypervelocity, with traditional rounds melting before meeting the target. Compared to previous anti-material, anti-personnel rifles–namely from the SRS99 family–, it could penetrate infantry-rated shields in 1 or 2 shots (compared to the 2 to 3 if well placed), up to 2 kilometers away. Once past the shields… Well, it ain't pretty.

Linking it with the suit confirmed most of its functions to be in order. Manual inspection also showed nothing out of the ordinary.

Holstering it to my back and equipping the DMR, I moved.

My plan required a hard-to-reach position for the grimm. Crossing the river was no more difficult than slinging through thick mud, being that it was chest high and had fair momentum. Decloaking next to a pile of rocks, in the middle of a wide field before the river, placed me some 300 meters from the infested area. The huge bastard stood by the gaping hole in the wall as the smaller beowolfs circled around it to avoid its stomp. They still hadn't noticed me.

Bringing out the larger rifle and propping its bipod, I took aim on the elephant's head. The thickness of its mask gave me pause as I was unsure if the first shot would penetrate. Once I started firing I'd catch their attention and anyone within several miles.

Better immobilize.

*CRACK!*

The sound reverberated throughout the canyon. A sudden puff of black mist sprouted from the goliath's leg, causing it to collapse. Its unearthly roar could also be heard for miles.

All as one, the wolves stopped in their tracks, propping up their heads. One by one, they began rushing to my general direction. With uncanny perception and will, the goliath managed to lift itself in limp, heading directly at me.

*CRACK!*

Another puff of black mist shrouded its head, and it again collapsed.

That last shot had nearly all of the wolves zeroing in on me. Switching to the DMR, I prepared to enact a strategy most commonly implemented during the Great War: KEISOABWD (Kill Every Inhuman Son Of A Bitch Without Dying).

Approaching within 200 meters, I opened fire. Dropping some 8 or so wolves reduced their force significantly. As falling boulders they hastily splashed into the river, their sprint degrading to ragged pants and splashing water. Some of the smarter ones opted to head south along the river, to where it narrowed–

*click*

I unloaded the mag, pocketing it and inserting another 20 STAP rounds.

The ones that circled around managed to cross. It was unfortunate that none of them would make it.

*Bap!*... *Bap!* *Bap!*

Aiming towards the main group–

A large bark sounded. A sizable beowulf no more than 2 meters from me pounced.

Shit!

Time slowed to a crawl as perception increased two-fold, and I twitched my aim–.

*Bap!*

The head of the wolf burst into mist. I sidestepped to avoid the flying corpse. Time resumed to normal speed.

Too damn close.

Several others managed to close the distance, almost.

After 5 or so minutes, a total of 26 wolves perished–their corpses evaporating into nothingness–, the goliath still somewhat spasming on the ground some 250 meters in the distance. Waiting another 5 minutes showed no other grimm exiting the village. With the elephant crippled, I made my way towards it.

Standing some 50 meters from the goliath afforded enough distance should it try anything. The hole in its head followed a crack on the mask moving across the left eye, oozing black liquid and mist, with its right leg faring much worse: a mangled mess of bone and globs of blood evaporating, which hadn't completely torn off as most of the damage had been internal. Strangely, upon scrutiny, the signs of muscle seemed vague if not absent. Needless to say, it wouldn't be getting up… at least it shouldn't be able to.

It gazed with malice, not once blinking. Unlike those of the elephantidae family, it distinguished itself with the black, leathery skin and bone-a white mask with intricate, red lines–those similar to the patterns observed on the alpha–,thick with the same enamel compound. (Had the tungsten round been traveling any slower, it might have been able to stop it.) The tusks were massive, sharp to the tips, capable of rending most living creatures. Uncanny was all I could think.

S7:you need anything from it?

DASH:something that won't cause you to become bisected

DASH:collect blood samples

I looked at the burning village.

S7:still no distress signal?

DASH:no trace

Here's hoping most made it out.

I again looked at the goliath. Better make this quick.

Having come prepared, I holstered the rifle alongside the rail gun. A secured pouch on my chest carried three syringes, and circling to its back, I stabbed one near its spine. Three syringes later, I again stood in front of it, aiming the DMR at its eye.

*Bap!*

It groaned in pain.

*Crack!*

It again groaned.

Tough bastard.

*Crack!*

Soon enough, streams of black vapor began to emit, the body and internals vanishing. After reloading a third mag, I began to sprint into the town.

With a cloak and bullets, I swept the grounds. True to Dash's intel, most of the housing had been built with a form of treated wood, sitting on foundations of black and brown basalt, built along streets of dirt and stone, and along the eves are tethered power cables to each house that still stood. A good chunk of the buildings had been significantly charred, with 1 or 2 still blazing away near the breach, the cold air doing little to stem the blaze.

Observing the buildings made it evident of their disarray: broken doors rendered to splinters, shattered glass panes, and belongings strewn before the entrances and inside. Sticking my head in several revealed grizzly scenes.

Damned way to go.

I came to the town's square, at its center, the CCT substation surrounded by the town hall, stalls, and shops. Their empty shelves, torn containers, and the general emptiness of the place seem to support the notion of a raid. More so, it all pointed to signs of a struggle as bullet holes and blood splatter dotted both the walls and ground.

It didn't take long to find bodies.

DASH:analyzing

I came up to a man lying face down, a significant pool of blood below him. I placed two fingers on his throat… No pulse.

DASH:sir, they are deceased

I stood up, resting my aim. I continued to observe the bodies. Most had been clearly riddled with bullets, cuts, and bruising. Several others had been mangled by claws and teeth.

The tracker suddenly showed motion to the east–

*Crash!*

A total of three dots… It's one of the buildings!

Sprinting down the street brought me the house in question, the front door recently splintered. The screams of children could be heard inside. One's in pain.

Stepping through the door frame brought me to the 3 forms of a beowolf and two kids: a boy– cornered against cabinets of the adjoined kitchenette–and girl, both of fair skin and red hair, her arm caught in its fangs as a tight vice. Her screams flooded the house, blood splattering profusely as its head shook with fury.

The floorboards protested loudly to my weight, gaining the wolf's attention. Damn armor! It released its grip on the girl, turning to my direction. Good armor!

I thought about aiming but stopped. Too close, can't risk the shot.

I decloaked, and before it could react I dashed to its side, ramming it into the side of the wall–

*Crash!*

I could have sworn I felt its bones breaking on my impact.

Before it could get up–

*Bap!*

The body collapsed, and its form began to dissipate.

Holstering the DMR, I brought my attention to the two occupants. Getting a better look showed the boy (mouth gaping with wide eyes) looked to be no older than 8, the girl ranging between 14 to 16. The girl… not good!

DASH:she's fainting, blood loss is significant

I lifted her collapsed form, placing her on the couch. Pulling the coffee table up to cushions provided a makeshift surgical station, and with the space I began to examine her arm–a bloody mess of muscle and broken bone. She slowly noticed its condition and, understandably, proceeded to hyperventilate.

"[Breath, calm. Panic not]." I roughly said.

S7:dash get me translation software

I called for the camel to rendezvou in the village, and at full speed it should arrive in 14 minutes.

Too long.

Pulling a med kit from the leg pouch as well as a canteen of water, I drenched a cloth rag, washing most of the blood, dirt and debri around the wound.

DASH:it's done

I turned my attention to the other. With an automated tone, the helmet responded: "[Hey kid!]"

He stood to his full height, staring wide eyed between the girl and me.

"[Medicine! Can you get me that?!]"

He shuffled, taken aback by the sudden command. Better dial it back.

"[This isn't ideal, I know. I need you to be brave, for her. Can you do that?]

He stood there with a shake. Still traumatized.

From the medkit, I pulled a small canister of biofoam. I refocused my priority on the girl.

S7:how well will she react to biofoam?

DASH:uncertain

DASH:i'll need to run hypotheticals

DASH:be conservative

Good enough.

Unpinning the canister and pulling the trigger released a stream of viscous foam, settling into her arm. Wrapping it in a generous amount of gauze and cloth brought her arm together. She'll need the mag splint.

Even as a marvel of modern medicine, biofoam was not designed with the natives in mind (despite our similarities). It could put her into shock, possibly kill her. I'd need alternative medicines.

With her arm bandaged, I made to stand. "[You're doing good, stay still]."

She whimpered in response.

With that I began my search. The house in question appeared standard, its layout typical to most frontier housing: a standard living room, adjoined kitchenette and dining area, two bedrooms and a bathroom (toward the back). Its interior design utilized a white-gray plaster with an occasional window here and there; the floors of ripped wood covered with rugs and mats from skinned animals and woven fabrics. The furniture looks rustic, its cushioning and covers also made of animal skin and plant fibers. In the living room, a seemingly advanced entertainment system contrasted the look: a thin monitor of glass–clearly meant for network broadcasting–and black box with a digital interface, resting on a cabinet piece. Like the living room, both the bathroom and kitchen took on the plain scheme, the iron plumbing coming up from the floors and into their respective sockets. Their countertops and cabinets were of stained wood, and they hosted appliances of an advanced design. Not much could be said of the bedrooms that had already been stated of the living, save for the beds and other furnishings one would expect.

After some searching, I gathered several bottles and a kit from the bathroom, placing them on the coffee table. Identifying each remedy by their labels revealed a critical flaw in my plan: I couldn't read them.

S7:can you translate?

DASH:working…

I noticed the girl starting to go quiet, her eyes beginning to flutter. Adrenaline is wearing off, must be the pain. The mild anesthetics in the biofoam must have kicked in.

My helmet pinged with a response–

DASH:red bottle: hydrogen peroxide

DASH:pink bottle: antibiotic pills...

Dash continued rattling off the list of remedies. Having snagged a bag from one of the bedrooms, I stuffed the more appropriate ones in it, gesturing to the kid.

As he approached I spoke to him. "[Keep a hold of this, she'll need it.]"

Shaking in his spot, he tentatively grabbed it.

I turned my attention back to the girl, placing a hand over her forehead. She's cold, gotta get her warm. Grabbing one of the blankets folded over a chair, I began to bundle her. Surprisingly, the other kid came to help, wrapping the blanket as I lifted her.

With her bundled, I grabbed the DMR pacing to the doorway. No other contacts registered, the only movement pinged came from the boy behind as well as from the approaching camel some 40 meters out.

What's the assessment? A breached wall, an uncontrolled fire, dead civilians, and two survivors–one healthy, the other in poor condition. CCT substation is likely damaged, so no distress signal (barring use of the satellites). The armed persons dead were likely the guards… where is the town's hunter?

Typically, villages of this size tend to have at least one hunter post, being rotated in and out depending on the season and threat of grimm. I thought to ask the kid but decided against it.

Let's assume no Hunter, that pretty much leaves the village compromised. I'll need to get them, and any other survivors, to safety. A recently raided town wouldn't provide it given the perpetrators could be back any moment.

The girl will need further treatment, likely a blood transfusion. The urgency of said medical care would depend on the rate of her deteriorating condition. The flash-cloner and bone polymer should solve both the blood loss and broken arm, though I'd need a safe area to conduct the operation. Even with that, she'd still need urgent care.

There was the chance of there being other survivors. I'd need to check the main hall as well as the other 5 or so buildings.

First things first, I have to get them into a safer building, one without a broken door and further away from the fires.

I turned back to the boy. "[It isn't] safe [here]."

He looked confused. "[W-what]?"

DASH:apologies sir

DASH:try now

"[It's not safe. We have to move. Follow closely]."

I moved to the unconscious girl, holstering the DMR and lifting her form with both arms under her. The wrapped blanket remained firm as I moved to the neighboring house, its door still intact. He followed no more than a foot behind.

With a bit of finessing, the door unlatched and opened. The interior looks not too different from the previous dwelling, save for differences in aesthetics and furniture. I placed her on another couch.

I address the boy. "[This will be scary, but I need you to stay with her]."

His eyes went wide. "[No, please don't go]." He grabbed the plating of my leg. "[Don't go don't go don't go]!"

I knelt down, gently removing him. "[I need to find others]."

He looked dejected, his head hanging.

"[I'll come back. In the meantime, that door]–" I pointed at the entrance "–[stays locked]."

I waited for a response. It was a second or so before he looked at me and nodded.

"[I will be back]."

With that, I went outside, closing the door on my way out and activating camo.

15 minutes of searching revealed the rest of the housing to be empty, some hosting bodies that had either been shot, stabbed, or mauled. The signs of panic were present: a rush of packed bags and strewn supplies. The hall had been especially wasted, its interior trashed to pieces. Whoever attacked did so swiftly as the inhabitants weren't left with much time to defend.

If they headed north, chances are forward to Briss. Such a trip would be a day and a quarter's worth of traveling. As long as they were armed, they should be fine. Besides, there was nothing I could do for them now.

Finding myself back at the town's center, I thought to inspect the substation. A line of cable which ran along the housing had a clean cut just above the console. The terminal itself was smashed to bits. Must have been the targeted first, possibly sabotage before the raid.

A noise coughing breached over the crackling fire, sounding labored. It came from a building to my immediate west.

Approaching the source brought me to an alleyway. I peaked my head around the corner, seeing a caucasian man of a lean build, with wild brown hair and a thick beard, crumpled against broken crates and barrels (the content of fruit and distilled alcohol spilled about). His attire is of hardened leather plating and leggings, donned over a blue cloth shirt and pants. He took notice as I decloaked, his gaze labored. A closer inspection revealed a deep, red stab on his chest, and heavy bruising to contribute to his ragged breathing.

"[Robot? A ro]–" He chokes, before going into a coughing fit. The stab must have penetrated his lung.

I holstered my rifle. He's no threat.

"[Can you walk?]"

He tried moving…

He spoke with labor, "[Stuck… I'm stuck…]"

I looked at the broken crates. Sure enough, they had him pinned.

Grabbing at one intact piece, I ripped it away. He soon came free, tumbling to the ground as he made to stand. On all fours, he started coughing again, thick phlegm and blood coming out. I helped him up, practically dragging him back to the safe house.

"[Weapon, my… weapon…]"

I ignored him, seeing that his "weapon" was most likely missing.

Reaching the door, I knocked… Hearing no response, I moved to open, and sure enough it swung open. Dammit kid, I thought I told you to lock it! Observing the interior, only the girl (still laid out on the couch) remained, with the boy was nowhere to be seen. "[Kid, are you still here?!]"

…

No response. Need to deal with my patient first.

Getting the man inside and against the wall, he started gasping for air. Gotta be a hemorrhage!

Quickly unpacking the medkit, I pulled out another canister of biofoam. I hesitated–

S7:dash, you have those projections?

DASH:yes sir

S7:what are the chances of rejection?

DASH:5.8%

Blood started to seep out from his mouth, and his gasps suddenly became gurgled.

Unpinning and extending the nozzle, I jammed it into the wound and pulled the squeeze grip, the foam streaming forth to fill his internals. It was a matter of seconds as his breathing quickly improved.

"[What… did you stuff me with]?"

"[Your cough medicine.]"

"[Cough medicine… ha.]"

I stowed the canister away (after disinfecting it). The contents of the foam should eliminate almost all bacteria and prevent infection. His treatment finished with a thick bandage to his stab wound.

"[If you feel intense sickness, nausea, fatigue, swelling, or anything out of the ordinary, let me know]."

"[Wha… what the hell?]"

"[I'll be back.]"

"[What did you stuff me–!?]"

I closed the door before he could finish. Gotta find the kid.

It only took a second for the tracker to pick up motion in the direction of the town square. The trek was less than a minute, and as I arrived–

Hell…

The kid sat over the body of a woman, that of fair skin and youthfulness with hair to match his. She had a full dress and leather jacket, her chest stained with a deep red, her glassy eyes staring upward unflinching to his shaking.

"[Mom, wake up, we have to go.]"

Lqaocabqvo dmzuqv…

Memories of that hellish mission came forth–

"Snap out of it, we have to go!"

I remember regret, a sensation of numbness.

"He's gone, we can't stay!"

Redness sprouted from his eyes, "[Mom, please.. I didn't– I thought… What if I went?]"

I grabbed him by the shoulders. "[Look away, she needs to rest]."

He begs: "[I can wake her. I need to… I don't–]"

I force him to look at me, "[She's gone… I'm sorry]."

Ramona clasped her gloved hand with mine.

"Arthur? Are you ok?"

Then came acceptance.

His head sank, and his shoulders shook with tears coming forth.

I patted his back, unsure on how to console him. "[We need to go. Let's get your sister]."

---

The burning husk of [Laffe] stood miles behind, our march taking us to the outskirts of the Everglades. We didn't stray too far from the river bed as it was a sure guide to our refuge, that being the settlement of [Briss].

I looked back at my charge. The man I rescued took point behind the camel, wielding the shotgun from my armory, keeping a vigilant watch. I had been unwilling to let him borrow it seeing as I just met the man, though given the circumstances–and his testimony–I'm inclined to trust him. Additionally, I could use the extra pair of eyes. The biofoam seemed to have done the trick in getting him back to his feet–even as he moved at a sluggish pace–, though I suspect that it also has to do with his… Aura. Even so, his broken ribs, punctured lung, and overall bruising made him more of a liability.

He claims he was the town's huntsman, contracted under Vale for security and grimm eradication. His weapon, a… combination… of a bolt-action rifle and spear–the one he had mentioned earlier–, had been an important piece in "amplifying" his abilities. We quickly deduced it to be long gone, being expected that the bandits (their exact identity still unknown) likely took it. The ordeal left him rightfully pissed seeing how he failed in his duties–losing civilians and the settlement to the grimm.

There were the kids, the red heads, who varied in different states of physical and emotional wellbeing. The girl came to hours later, finding herself wrapped neatly in that blanket, secured to the top of the camel as it followed behind, now having a magnetic splint to her arm–closer inspection revealing both the radius and ulna had fractured under the skin. She (reasonably) panicked, soon to be calmed by the man who she and her brother seemed to recognize as their "uncle". The younger sibling waddled not too far behind me, positioning himself between me and the camel. Needless to say, he remains traumatized, wearing a blank stare.

Before our departure, we managed to scour for food and supplies, enough to last us the trip. The man had been insistent on waiting out for Vale authorities to arrive, but upon revealing that they were days out, the lack of communication (due a damaged substation), and our charge, he relented.

I had been somewhat surprised at the absence of inquiry (which I prefer to avoid yet will be inevitable), though I suppose those took a back seat after having a shitty day. I had noticed the kids take long stares at me as though I was some sort of alien, which… well… no need for them to know. The man too took brief glances, signaling an interest in the armor as well as with the shotgun and camel.

Sooner or later, someone's gonna start asking questions… though it didn't mean I'd have to answer. It would be similar to dealing with civies, especially those who idolized spartans for the exploits during the Great War and in our most recent conflict. Government bodies will be a little more tricky, seeing as they'll see straight through the bullshit, but between now and then I'll have time to come up with answers to conceal the fact that I'm essentially an alien, albeit a very human alien. The tech would be even harder to explain. I fear that my inability to bold-face-lie might bite me in the ass. Better use white lies.

---

Our humble campfire soared into the night air, in an area particularly well guarded from unwanted guests; a spot just within the treeline surrounded by boulders and the river to our immediate side. The sun had nearly set to the west, casting oranges and purples across the evening skies, the only glow below a pot of good ol' beans, roasting them to a hot temperature; a meal thanks in part to a borrowed tripod we manage to 'nab from the Doras household (despite not feeling right). I grunted in pain as I sat myself down–hissing thanks to broken ribs–, and the shotgun, against one of the growths. All in all, not a bad way to end a rather FUCKED UP DAY in my book.

Iros almighty, what happened? How could I let good, hard working men and women die on my watch? It hurt even more knowing that among the dead were friends: Danny, Smokey, Anor, Cheryl… Enlightened One, forgive me, those kids are going to need their pa' more than ever.

I should have been more on guard, especially since that group of suspicious wanderers came through several nights before. I should have been awake that night, helped patrol the walls. I should have… Ah hell…

What really got to me was that bastard of a bandit. He managed the jump on me–a hell of a surprise–, and with his troop I didn't last more than 10 minutes. And to add insult with injury, he had the audacity to stab me with MY precious Crockett!

Really, what did I have to show for my efforts? Broken ribs, a punctured lung, my missing weapon, a burning village, and dead folk, that's what. Really, what hurt more was the failure in my oath.

I took a moment to introduce the tree behind me to my frustrations–

*Whap!*

"Dammit!"

I rotated my torso to the front–again hissing in pain from broken bone–in an attempt to massage my now-bruised hand.

Looking up, both Isa and Nean stared at my general direction, a concern masking their looks.

"I'll be fine, you two…"

They didn't look convinced.

Nean spoke up. "Duke?"

Shucks…

"We lost a lot of good folk today. I'm angry 'is all."

The girl was the first to look away, continually staring at the night sky. Nean stared a little longer, and eventually looked away himself. Isa laid against that rolling contraption… carrier… thing (Big Green hadn't given a name for it), somewhat adjacent to the fire for warmth (the cold air having a serious bite to it) while the younger one sat close, almost in a protective posture.

I don't blame him, poor girl.

Seeing Isa's arm looked like the stuff of nightmares, and all I can think is how dreadfully she needs to see a doctor. More worrying was how white she looked, either from the signs of fever setting in or too much blood loss, and I reckon it was the latter seeing as we had to change her bandages three times.

With their attention off of me, I examined the puncture above my chest, now covered in appropriate bandaging. That white-foam… stuff, seemed to act as a bit of a pain killer seeing as it gave me strength to walk and breath, though with the effects now gone it became apparent just how difficult both are. And the sting, damn it hurts! All the more reason why I'd need to visit the doc.

I made another glance at Big Green. I should be thankful. Were it not for him I would have been part of Laffe's obituary.

It was wrong to call him a robot seeing as his posture wasn't as rigid as one, being too fluid and somewhat graceful. By Iros he was tall, perhaps a little less than 2 keits1, and by the armor he wore it is no wonder that he could be mistaken as an automaton. His wear looked bulky, thick plates covering both the legs, arms, and chest, which undoubtedly added to the weight, and it looked advanced. The closest comparison would be with those from CCTV shows the town's folk watched now and then, except his seemed more utilitarian–ready for war.

He went about organizing several contraptions of strange machinery–the size of those commercial-grade computer towers–, his silenced rifle attached to his back. Part of why I call him Big Green (that is, until he decides to give a name other than "[S7]", whatever that reads) had to do with that stiff militia posture he'd sometimes take.

I couldn't help but focus on his weapon. It looked high tech, seemingly made of highly durable metals, refined mechanism, and sophisticated manufacturing that'd make any vet water at the mouth. It is so beautifully built, it's difficult to tell where certain components joined and ended.

I grabbed the shotgun, again inspecting it for the 100th time, careful to lay it across my lap and engage the safety as Big Green instructed. Pulling on the forearm released one of 10 loaded shells, a red casing in the shape of traditional shotgun ammo. It looked smaller and felt lighter, especially with the propellant case as it seemed to lack the kick for launching the pellets (or at least I assumed pellets). Without having fired the thing, it's only a guess as to how powerful it actually is, but by the gun's size and equivalent quality to the rifle, it looked as though it could take the head off of a griffon, perhaps even shatter aura for some. I shuddered at that notion.

There was also that second rifle, the one which had been stowed in his carrier in favor of a pistol (also of unknown make). That thing looked to be a straight upgrade of Atlas's railguns, seemingly with smoother prongs and built with the same black casing. I suspect that it was the one that killed the goliath (it was hard to miss the faint cracks in the air and the beast's roar), a feat which few weapons are able to boast. I again shudder, the thought of it being used on huntsmen setting a sour mood.

Big Green was just full of mysteries: the unknown make and model of his weapons, the build of his armor, the mysterious foam, and that robotic thing. Only Atlas seemed able and willing to manufacture these items, key word being able. He seemed highly trained, at least with medicine and in combat. What threw me off was how young he sounds.

You're going into conspiracy territory again, I recuse myself.

By now the sun had fully set, the only light emitting from the campfire. Big Green's setup was about complete: a small array of gadgets and seemingly high-tech equipment attached to a comms array, likely to the CCT network. It looked… out of place. On closer inspection, some of the displays resembled… hell, I don't know what they resemble. The characters looked rather funny as though coming from a form of cryptography.

With the motivation of hunger and a bit of effort, I managed to stand, making my way toward the food station to collect bowls and spoons. Might as well act as chef for the night.

"Want some, Big Green?"

He looked over his shoulder, away from the equipment in front of him. "Eat… later."

"Suit yourself."

And that's another thing. When the suit isn't speaking for him, he has this unfamiliar accent, one similar to those living in the Northern Sanus, though it still doesn't quite match up–something with the inflection; disregarding the fact that he speaks brunic as a second language. Most of the civilized world had adopted its use, though you'd occasionally find groups speaking tarish, scavnic, or some other exotic speech. The foreign phrases I'd catch him muttering matched none of those, or at least the ones most familiar.

With two dishes in hand, I limped over to the siblings. Nean reached for his, giving a simple "thanks." I turned to Isa, still perched against the carrier. "Need to eat, darlin'?"

With bleary eyes, she looked at me, and it suddenly became clear how shallow breathing is… Wait…

I sat the bowl down, placing my hand against her forehead.

Shit!

Placing both hands around her face, it became prevalent how cold she felt. Oh hell… oh hell!

It appeared Green noticed too as he also approached her form–

"Hey, what the hell!"

–shoving me aside.

"[She needs…] She needs treatment."

He proceeds to lift her.

It was by now that Nean took understanding of the situation, his eyes going wide as he stood to his full height, spilling his food.

"S-sis!?" He exclaimed.

Green walked towards the large tent he had assembled, erected next to his gear. Stepping inside, he placed her on a cot, providing her with another blanket (one liberated from the house before).

As green stepped outside, I took the chance to make my way inside.

"S-sis?" Nean again spoke.

Under better light I could see how dire her health was. She still looked sickly, her bleaching skin sticking out like a sore thumb.

Damned if I let her die!

I knelt down, grabbing her arm. Years of experience came forth as I began channeling aura into her, a tannish glow enveloping both of our forms. I wasn't certain it would be enough, especially since I lacked practice and strength. Recalling lessons from Beacon, healing works to accelerate the body's natural ability to mend itself, though I was uncertain if this included regeneration of blood. One of my teacher's lessons came to mind: "Aura, by no means, can it replace or give back. Its only purpose is to realign and reinforce the spirit, body, and mind into equilibrium."

Without proper training or dedicated semblance, mending is one of the most taxing aptitudes, and as I channeled, I became aware of that creeping exhaustion and weariness. What I was also doing could be reckless as the arm may heal incorrectly, but if it meant preventing her death…

Her eyes continued fluttering. Damn it, work!

For what seemed an eternity, the effort finally became too much, an intense paralysis coursing through me in electrical currents; an exhaustion signaling the onset of aura strain. And by Iros, did it hurt. I collapsed, only managing to balance myself on all fours. At my peripheral I saw Big Green's gauntlets, feeling a firm grip under my arms as I was lifted.

A blurry vision came forth as the feeling went straight to my head, and in the next moment the tent's canvas(?) could barely be felt on my back. Fully settled into a sitting position, I saw him turn back to Isa's form, Nean apparently having made his way in, grasping the arm of his sister. Blackness took my vision, an intense ringing also sounding in my head.

When I came to a minute(?) or so, through fogged vision I saw him hunched over her form, his back to me with little Nean off to the side. As the fog faded, and upon closer scrutiny, I saw him stab a syringe into her other arm, and as suddenly as I awoke a sense of rage sputtered within.

"Damnit Green, what are you doing!?"

"[Transfusion.]"

Like hell! Am I supposed to believe he can conjure blood out of thin air?!

I made to stand, only to find my body wouldn't quite respond.

With blood drawn, he went back outside to that kit of his.

"For goodness sake, just give her more of that foam stuff!"

Every second lost is a second closer to her death, we didn't have time for diagnosis!

Repeated attempts to stand ended in utter failure. It'd take more than paralysis for me to rip him a new one.

Several minutes later, he came back in with a small gadget in one hand and a… a container of… Blood?

My thoughts came back to the amount he drew from her, but that wouldn't come near to the container's volume, not even close.

Extending a small tripod, he attached the container to its top. A tube was attached to its base, a needle at its end, and with it Green stuck it in her uninjured arm. Immediately the contents started to drain ever so slowly.

The sense of frustration grew more into bewilderment as his procedure continued. The instrument in his hand looked similar to earlier generations of scrolls: a flat device with a defined display and analog interface, the projected imagery I couldn't make out given the angle from where I sat. Beams of light shot forth from it, engulfing her arm in crossing patterns of green. Ever so gently, he pressed at certain points on her arm, appearing to realign the fractures without much of a yelp from Isa. Must be an anesthesia. This seemed to have gone on for minutes.

What followed was an injection of white, viscous substance (provoking another twitch of anger) in three separate areas of the arm. He again brought out that canister of white foam, spraying the remaining contents into the various cuts and ripped flesh, rewrapping with new bandaging and gauze before the splint was placed back on.

I again looked up to the container of red, another inspection bringing me to a conclusion:

Huh, that is blood.

---

At 1005, rays of sunlight penetrated the canopy of coniferous evergreens as we traveled along a dirt road. Our path took us along the river from the Faded Valley, following a gradual incline to a lower and lower elevation, the ranges of Red Peaks and White Caps situated to our backs. Patches of snow dotted the forest floor and tree branches, a sure signal we had yet to fully enter the Mediterranean climate of Sanus's western region.

The road looked recently used, as though a sizable group had passed through the area, a good indication that the survivors likely made it to Briss.

I again took point with my charge following. Isa–the name of the girl–had made a strong recovery from last night's crisis, her skin more flush with color and with eyes fully awake. She was too weak to walk on her own, having relegated to riding the back of the camel with Nean–her younger brother. Her arm still rested in the splint as the Bone-knitting polymer did its work, and the surrounding muscle and tissue had yet to fully mend. Finally having the excuse to draw blood for analysis, Dash determined most of our medicine (particularly the bio foam and polymer) relatively safe for her, the chances of rejection being much more minimal than anticipated. (He'd need a much, much larger sample size to determine suitability for the rest of the natives.) She would still need to go through muscle therapy to recover full use of her arm.

Her mental state is questionable as she showed signs of stress, trembling in place. Nean was not much better as he tended to stare off into the distance and, at times, become unresponsive. She would need to go through therapy to recover her arm, and moreover, she and her brother will need full psychiatric evals for their trauma. I doubt that seeing/knowing your mother passed away would be good for your faculty.

Duke again covered the rear, favoring the shotgun from my armory. It became apparent how temperamental his character was, reminding me of Ujarak's mentality at times. I wasn't entirely sure what he'd pulled last night with his Aura–some strange light engulfing both his and Isa's forms as he attempted a healing technique (as clarified by both him and Dash); having knocked him out for 11 minutes. It might have been, because of him, that Isa recovered as quickly as she did.

Speaking of recovery, his also seemed quick, the strides of his steps having improved since yesterday though the problems with breathing and hiss of pain persisted. Inspecting his chest wound (despite protests that "it was fine!") revealed a sizable scab, a sign of healing that should have taken weeks even with bio foam.

For several hours we kept progressing, reaching a sizable bank of water to call rest at. The kids disembarked from the camel, arriving before the lake's shore in curiosity (or distraction). The water shined crystal clear in cyans and blues, reflecting sunlight and clouds. Patches of snow dotted the shoreline, that of a mix of volcanic rock–small parts of pumice with mostly basalt–and general cobblestone with segments of grass. The river we followed gently flowed into the bank, the overflow siphoning out on the other end.

I noticed the tracker again ping with movement. It kept registering clusters of entities, albeit from small creatures of sciuridae, avian, leporidae, as well as the occasional cervid and canin (or [Moutain Wolf] as locally known). This was a typical fault with trackers, and it only heightened my paranoia.

S7: 'g4 mjolnir sys' – – disable

I'd have to rely on sight and sound until I or Dash could properly calibrate the tracker.

I sat myself on a nearby boulder, not too far to lose sight of the kids, unlatching the backpack to set it on the ground and taking time to inspect the DMR and M6 sidearm. It was then I noticed Duke approaching, sitting on the fallen log opposite to me.

I briefly looked up in acknowledgement before proceeding with my inspection.

Silence followed for a minute.

"[Son, you got a name?]"

I paused for a second, contemplating an answer before facing him.

…

"Arthur."

"Aar-thuoor?"

"Just Arthur."

"Juusk Ar-thour, [is that it]?"

I switched on the translator.

"[No, just] Arthur."

I switched it off again. While useful, it'd be best to avoid employing it as a means to practice Brunic.

Having completed inspection, I clasped the DMR and M6 to their holsters. Silence came again as we both kept staring at each other.

"[You gonna take off that helmet]?"

"[No.]" At least not yet.

"[You're not ugly, are you]?"

"[Girls think cute.]" At least the ones during training. Not many civies had a chance to see our faces, not for any particular reason or policy.

"Ha! [if that's it, why keep it on?]"

"[No absolute place.]"

He raised his eyebrow. Wrong phrase to use.

'[No… reason.]"

Plenty of reasons, actually, though he didn't need to know those.

He nodded his head.

More silence, mainly due to him inspecting my armor and gear before taking a glance at the camel.

"[Are you Atlas?]" He asked, his attention again on me.

Moment of truth…

"[No.]"

His eyes widened at that.

"[Vale?]"

"[No.]"

"[Horse shit… Mistral?]"

"[No.]"

"[Don't tell me that des–]"

"[No Vacuo.]"

He slumped back, taking a big breath as he rebalanced himself.

"[Alright then… just where are you from?]"

"[Far… home.]"

He again raised an eyebrow, giving enough pause until I relented.

"[You not hear it.]"

While not looking satisfied, he relented.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the siblings eavesdrop, hiding behind several bushes. Duke also took notice, angling his head to spot them before they ducked back into hiding. He turned back to face me.

"[Listen, I… There are many more questions I'd like to ask, though it'd be improper for me to do so.]"

He paused, waiting to see if I understood. While it was still hard to pick up certain phrases, I comprehended general meaning. I nodded for him to continue.

"[Were it not for your arrival, we'd be dead. Whatever miracle you pulled last night–yesterday–saved Isa.]"

He leaned in, looking away as if to contemplate his next words.

Before he could continue, I replied. "[Thanks later. Need… Must get Briss.]"

He continued anyway. "[Nah, you don't get to force debts on me like that.]"

"Hmm… [welcome]."

I looked toward where the kids were, now attempting to open one of the camel's compartments for food.

I stood up, grabbing the backpack.

"[Your brunic still needs work, you know.]"

"Yeah."

Opening one of the pouches of the bag, I picked some rations we had collected from Laffe–some sandwiches made from [elk] meat, [tomatoes], and other greens.

"You two hungry?" I asked, gesturing with the food until they got the message. I handed them their fair share, both eagerly digging in.

"[Thank you.]" Isa stated.

Nean kept looking down and away as he bit into his food.

With an MRE in hand, I walked back to my spot, the hunter still sitting at his.

"[Hungry?]" I asked as I waved it in front of his face.

He looked intently at the packaging, attempting to discern the labeling.

"[You gonna tell me what's in it?]"

"[Worm paste.]"

"Egh."

"[Joke… avian.]"

"[You mean chicken.]"

"[No… large bird.]" More specifically Reach's native moa, though he didn't need to know that. The contents of the meal were completely safe for their consumption.

He took a bite, shaking his head. "[Dunno] Athour, [tastes like chicken.]"

That's what they all say.

I handed part of the MRE over, setting the rest beside me.

"[Youh Gohnah Eaht?]"

I moved to unlatch the helmet. "[Yes… one time.]"

"[Thought you said you wouldn't take off the helmet.]"

Ha ha ha ha.

The air hissed around the seal, and in the next second it was off. I sat it next to me, again grabbing the MRE. I caught him staring wide-eyed at me before I could dig in.

"What?"

---

Orange skies penetrated the canopy as the final light of the sun began to settle in the west, and the forest grew denser as we traveled. Having traveled these parts on and off, I recognized certain landmarks: the burnt trees and odd rocks which stood out as well as Summer's bridge, indicators that we were no more than an hour from Briss.

Nean and Isa sat on top of the "cameal," both collapsed against each other from exhaustion, bundled in warm clothing to combat the cold air. They both looked depressed.

"Athour" continued leading, though this time I opted to keep up with him. For how big he is, and considering the gear on him, he had a damn quick pace.

"Not dust?"

"No… no dust."

The silence had been getting to me, plus I needed the distraction. It wasn't for long that we were engaged in this topic.

I ejected one of the shotgun's shells, bringing it out for inspection.

"What then, blackpowder?" Or "gunpowder" as some of the boys would term it.

Invented earlier in the century, it quickly became a viable substitute to dust propellants–a concoction of sulfur, carbon, and nitrate. Some manufacturers figured a way to mix it with dust to give it that "extra kick", some even finding creative uses in pairing it with different dust payloads. It's no wonder, however, why it hasn't seen favor over dust, the issues being its volatility (more so than fire dust), and the difficulties in acquiring it. It's an uncommon commodity, not at all cheap compared to the traditional propellant.

"No… gas."

Wasn't expecting that. "Huh, novel… Wouldn't this explode often?" I gestured with the shell.

From what I understood, gasses tended to be even more volatile. Who the hell is crazy enough to make gas-propelled ammo? Atlas, probably… On second thought, it's ingenious. With gas propellants, the weight of ammo and the compression could allow one to carry more; and, theoretically, the projectiles would have increased acceleration.

"... Stable, very stable."

I loaded the shell back in, aiming the gun off into the forest.

"And the velocity?"

Given the inherent nature of gas, having a reliable velocity doesn't seem feasible as (I reckon) there'd be too much variance.

"… 2100 keits in second."

I dropped my aim. "Average!?"

Not even traditional dust-based projectiles reached 1500, in fact the average tended around to 200-800 depending on the make and quality of dust and bullet. The speeds he's referring to are unheard of.

"Yes."

Either he's fudging the numbers or he's spot on. A lot can be done with high velocity bullets, namely punching through the plates of grimm… and perhaps aura. Concerning that one.

The War saw use of high-velocity weapons–projectiles reaching 1000 to 1300 k/s–for countering aura and mechanized infantry. Since the Summit Convention they had been heavily regulated, and only recently seeing reentry into service to counter newer grimm variants as well as rogue huntsman/tribe nations. Even then, the kingdoms generally kept their use limited to certain huntsmen and to their militias (namely Atlas).

For Big Green, this raised several questions: (1) who exactly developed his weaponry, and (2) who sanctioned him to use said weaponry? I doubt I'll get the first answer, and with his blatant use of high-velocity weapons, I suspect some level of kingdom sanctioning. If that wasn't the case… Well, all I knew is that I wouldn't be ratting on him, disregarding what he'd done for us.

Our conversation withered with the remaining evening light, and just above the treeline the glow of Briss could be seen. The kids got excited, if somewhat emotional, at the prospect of reuniting with their pa'. Last I heard he was chasing a bounty on grimm herds deep in the everglades, perhaps finishing by now.

I sighed. What am I gonna tell him?

He and I went back to the days at Beacon, being the top of our class in ballistics and rifling, though admittedly falling behind on aura and dust manipulation. It was after graduation he met Cheryl on the frontiers, and they grew very close; deeply intimate to the point of making other couples jealous.

No sooner had we cleared the treeline, entering a wide field with which the river joined with a large body of water, and to its northern end did the settlement shine brightly. Just outside the walls I could make out several tents and campfires, the signs of Laffe's refugees by the looks.

Folk soon spotted us arriving, and as our forms became illuminated the gossiping started. Most took a second or so to gawk at Big Green and his machine, unsure of what to make of him, and as he trudged forward they stepped out of his path to let him by. Inspecting some of the faces, I recognized the other 14 or so Laffe residents and another 5 of the local guard. Soon the crowd grew large enough to stop us in our tracks, a few of the women and men coming forward begging for the whereabouts of their loved ones. That familiar, sinking feeling came forth in my stomach.

After persistent begging we relented, confirming their worst fears. Some collapsed in tears, most placing themselves in the silence that a depressive paralysis gave. To Green's credit, he did his best in empathizing, though not enough to dissuade the fury and absolute howling of Mrs. Vicky for her husband. I felt sick.

In another moment the sound of distant howels could be heard.

The negativity… shit.

"EVERYONE INSIDE, NOW!" Screamed the guards.

Quickly we were shuffled inside the town's walls, and as soon as we were all in the heavy gates started closing behind us. More guards came rushing past us, aiming to climb the walls for their positions. It would be a matter of time before the grimm were upon us.

Green took me aside, having tapped me on the shoulder. "Watch camel."

I gave him a questioning look.

"Please."

"And just what are you doing?" I asked in irritation. I really didn't want to babysit his robo dog.

"Need to fight."

Dammit Athour!

He quickly detached the bag from his back, hooking it to his carrier. With that, along with another group of guards. I moved to prevent his departure, trying to step in front of him. He stepped past the gate before it closed.

"Dammit Athour!"

As much as I wanted to fight as well, or at least make sure he doesn't get himself killed, in my injured state it just ain't happening. Besides, I needed to find the kids' dad.

Along dimly lit cobble streets and stone archways, I drug the kids with me. Surprisingly, the carrier also followed not far behind.

There was a good chance I knew where Abe would be. No sooner had we approached the barracks did I notice that mop of tannish hair.

In typical gear–thick leather gauntlets and metal plating, he stepped out of the barracks, weapon and all, with a heavy bag on his back. While ragged and tired, he looked about ready to venture out again.

"Abe!" I called out.

He swiveled to our direction.

"Duke!?"

Both kids practically launched themselves, barreling into him. Isa practically stumbled along her feet against her current condition. He knelt down to hug both tightly.

"Nean, Isa, I'd practically just–"

Isa was the first to break down. "Don't leave us again, please don't."

The reunion went on for some minutes as he consoled both.

"Is Mom here? She come along?" He asked both.

Nean stifled a sob, practically freezing in his grip. Isa broke down further.

Abe cursed me with a pleading look. "Duke, where's Cheryl?"

I felt like vomiting.

---

Author's Notes:

Keit = Meter

About progress -

As you may imagine, I did not create chapters 1-3 overnight. This project started back in August of this year, and as such, getting whole chapters out will take time. I will not upload parts of chapters here as those will be posted on SpaceBattles' forums first (see the link: threads/at-orion-edge-halo-x-rwby.1034123/#post-86333897). Only whole chapters will be posted here. I cannot promise a schedule on chapter releases, which means this story may enter hiatus in a moment's notice.

Any feedback is appreciated.

---

Omake: The Dream (Cannon)

The skies turned dark. Kneeling on the mattress, hunched over the windowsill with my head resting, I stared out. Sunset was occuring over the ocean, on the opposite side of the house. I'd be watching that, but that meant I would have to be in Big Sis's room.

Below, my friends from Signal left for home, with them their respective weapons. Given the celebration today, we had plenty of time to try each of them. It had been fun seeing how they functioned shooting bottles and dummy grimm. Sino's was perhaps the coolest, a combo of an energy rifle and war hammer with just the right balance. He seemed to know what he was doing in designing it.

One by one they left, with Elisa being the last one. A white auto came up presumably with her parents in it. Sure enough, they both exited with the mother–Jasmine, if I remember–approaching her for an embrace.

Jasmine looks pretty, having long, pale-blond hair and wearing a white-blue dress. On her neck and ears were silver-looking jewelry with green gems embedded, and around her waist a black buckle with holstered pistols attached and to her side.

I looked to the sky again, staring as though looking for something. The lack of overcast made it clear with the stars shining brightly, though the Moon had yet to rise from the east.

A sudden streak of light pierced the stretching heavens, one that could bring enrapture with any gaze. For shooting stars, this one seemed to last forever.

Before it could vanish–

"Mr. Star, I want to ask you something–"

I whispered to myself, a deep desire I've always had.

Several knocks sounded on the door as it creaked open.

"Pretty sneaky of you to hide away… Ruby?"

From behind, I saw sis leaning against the doorway, her blond hair falling to just above her waist. She was still in her day outfit, a white top and blue jeans.

"... Hey, Yang."

Quickly turning back to the window revealed the light to have now vanished. There was now a silence.

"You know, there are still treats downstairs~"

I sighed, "I know…"

…

"Is it Cella again?"

"N-no! No, it isn't."

Why do I hang around her? she's been distant ever since second year… At least she said hello.

Come to think of it, most of my friends have been getting pretty distant. Maybe it's me?

"Sis?"

She flopped down on the bed beside me.

"Are you thinking about Sino~?" She suggested.

I recoiled. "Eeew, no! Not like that!"

"You sure? I was about your age when I started thinking about boys."

"Yaaaaang!" I shoved a nearby pillow in her face.

"I'm joking! I'm joking." She said threw a fit of giggles.

For a moment I could only give a pouted look as the pillow rested on my knees. The melancholy came forth, and she seemed to notice. I collapsed my head against the stack of pillows.

She crawled next to me as she placed her head adjacent to mine. Why does she have to be like… well, Yang now?

"Seriously, what's gotten on your mind?"

"... I'm just sad, that's all."

A thunderous sound of an engine could be heard outside, the vehicle's treading growing more and more distant by the second. It was soon gone.

…

"Is it about mom?"

"... Can you tell me what she was like, again?" I asked as I stared toward the ceiling.

I only knew of her from the stories Yang and Dad would tell of her. She passed away when I was really young.

There was another pause before Yang spoke.

"You know those cookies dad makes?"

In a swift motion, I sat kneeling to her side.

"You mean!?"

If there was one thing to get excited over, it would be Dad's cookies. They are unmatched from what Signal or what local stores served. I always got a warm, sugary feeling from them.

"From what he says, it's part of a recipe from Great Grandma. It was because of her that she knew how to cook."

"You're not gonna tell me she was also a master chef, are you?" From how awesome of huntress she was, it was hard to imagine her in a cooking apron with Dad.

"Oh Little Sis, but I am."

"The Osso, is that hers!?"

Yang giggled before continuing, "Mostly Dad's, though it has her influence."

That got me thinking. Dad always mentioned that he and Summer always bonded over a love of food.

"Wasn't it because of cookies that they got together?"

"It was after a mission, stopping some Centinel at Blue Lake. The ones he made were from Great Gran's recipe."

"Awwwwwwwwww!"

Dad usually had a toughness unlike most parents as he tended to be no-nonsense at Signal. He could take on the deadliest of Grimm. Really though, he's a big softie and romantic at heart, even if overprotective.

"She wouldn't stop bragging about it, and even now it makes dad fluster. *Giggle* Can you picture that?"

"And the Centinel they fought?"

She paused for a moment, staring at the ceiling before eyeing me again.

"The way she described it is something to behold, a grand battle like no other!" Yang made a big gesture before continuing, "You know that scythe she had?"

It had been 20 or so minutes recounting the battles of mom and dad, one of which had been at the house. Yang swears she saw her take on 30 or so beowolfs that night.

I took another look outside to see the moon barely above the treeline. By now, all the sunlight had faded away.

I made a loud yawn. "How long has it been?"

It was then two knocks sounded at the door, and Dad poked his head in.

"Girls, it's time for bed!"

"Ugghhhhh!"

"It's school tomorrow, I expect each of you to be up and early!"

Yang answered as she got up from the bed, "Yes Daaaaad."

He left the doorway, prompting her to follow suit.

"Thanks Big Sis."

She turned to me with a smile. "Happy birthday, Little Red."

With that she left.

Nothing like turning 13. It seemed that every birthday was the beginning of something new, like a new journey or a new toy. I was fortunate to have been given enough components to begin my project, titled "Reaper". This had been months in the making, a passion project of blueprints and designs with the help of Signal's weapon smiths. It's going be the greatest creation, my greatest creation.

Dressing myself in my heart-patterned pajamas and conducting dental hygiene came in short order. Under the sheets of my bed, it didn't take long for sleep to arrive.

---

Most nights would go by peacefully, while others under a spell. The dreams were either wondrous, terrifying, bizarre, or a combination of the three. This one was the latter.

Apparent was the feel of the cold air, the blue-hued lighting, and the environment of grayish metal. I took a better look at my immediate surroundings.

I was in a room, and given the size it felt cramped as a prison, yet given its alien design… it felt like a twist to the theme of Star Chronicles. The only discernible objects were the bed and some sort of holographic computer. Was this a bedroom? Moving the bed, I grab its sheets, a texture of silk meeting my fingertips, like clouds woven into tiny fabrics. One could almost fall asleep standing by the feel alone. Removing my grasp took effort.

Moving around the room provided for better inspection, grasping and feeling the various surfaces–those of metal and glass–throughout. At its corners stood pillars, rising at a steep incline to meet at the room's center, a single orb providing it's illumination. Sat at the center is a planter depressed into the lower floor. In its soil grew a tropical plant with scaly bark–rough to the touch, with little pinpricks of spins dotting here and there–and leaves of deep green blooming from the center stump.

Noticeable was the noise, a background humming, like a machine working to some purpose. The last thing noted, having blended itself into the wall, is the closed entryway of a diamond shape where the upper half extends farther than the lower portion. I noticed a green light at its center, and upon approaching, the door's mechanisms sounded, opening into 4 quarters only to retreat into the wall; beyond the threshold a passageway into an extensive hall.

Not wanting to remain, I made for the exit.

The hallway went extensively in two directions, a continuous line offering no other paths. One end appeared to run endlessly, the other narrowing to a larger doorway. The hall adopted a similar architecture to the room before, a geometric shape of angular walls and triangular supports. Blue lights dotted its length, providing the only source of illumination as I went towards the closest doorway. Upon reaching, its center panel only flashed red.

"No, no, no, no, no…"

Looking for an unlock the passage proved futile, there being no obvious door handle or computer to free it open. My chest begin to tighten, and I made it into a sprint towards the other end of the hall.

"NonononononononoIcan'tbetrapped!"

I was much slower than desired. Did I not have my semblance? It wasn't uncommon to have it absent in my dreams, though that made this worse given how powerless I felt. It didn't help with how real this dream seemed.

For what seemed an eternity, my haste brought me to a large chamber. Its walls rise to considerable height, angling at a flat ceiling with a hole at the center (which I could not see up in my position). Triangular arches lined either side, made of the same, solid, grayish metal, only covered with golden lettering. At its center, on a raised platform, is a spinning, blue image of a sphere surrounded by alien symbols of various greens and reds (also of a geometric design).To my best guess, it looked like a world globe, but then why the swirling tendrils?

Before it was a sphere of light which glowed a greenish-blue. It proved hard to make out its exact form, the only thing that could be seen was a sort of metallic object.

The scenery paused me, the signs of an obvious exit not apparent. I grew fixated on the light as it seemingly bobbed up and down in mid-air.

Within a second, the sense of its attention fell on me, the light approaching closer. I shied away, unsure of what it would do.

A gibberish sound came from it, resonating as a synthesized voice. It floated closer as I instinctively shuffled back, raising my arm to block the light. The sound of its movement made a whirr.

There was silence, only the humming and chirping being from the hologram.

"I… I just want to leave… Please."

It spoke again.

…

"I-I…I don't know?"

The light floated there for another odd moment, speaking again in a string of sound before moving towards the hallway. It floated at the threshold.

"Do… you want me to follow?"

Awkward silence was the response. I moved to follow, and sure enough it continued.

The light sped down the distant hall as I lagged behind, and as we trekked I noticed the glass panes which lined either side. Slowing my pace afforded a view through one window: A chasm of deep walls, metal pillars, and blue lights strafing to and from unknown destinations. One light happened to pass close by, enough for one to notice its angular form and arms which stretched forward; the eye at its center being the source of illumination.

The whole environment screamed of advanced, ancient design, using a technology far beyond my understanding. It reminded me of the Ancient Ones, that fictional race of beings from that show. Their buildings and spaceship designs also took on an "ancient" design, except theirs had a more organic look.

I backed away from the window as a sudden fear of heights welled within. To think that I could fall down the bottomless cavern did not sit well.

Part of my instinct made me check myself. Up until now, I hadn't noticed the white, sleeveless dress I wore, and the soft soles which were attached to my feet. They were not traditional sandals as they simply stuck to them, like sap on my fingers, though I found I could easily peel them off. I tugged at the dress, immediately apparent was how tough it weight was barely noticeable, as though they were made from the lightest of fabrics. Closer scrutiny revealed a mastercraft of work, a lining of intricate layers with shades of white and gray creating a pattern most fashion designers would envy. It is unbelievably gorgeous.

I was knocked out of my thoughts from the glowing sphere making another series of sounds. With my attention, we continued down the hall.

It was not before we came to the locked door. The sphere approached its panel, the light suddenly changing from red to green. The door opened to reveal a ginormous chamber of the same gray metal. Through the passage we went, and a chilled draft could be felt.

The trek proved long as the tunnel appeared to stretch forever. There wasn't much to see, bare of any objects and features along its length, save for the geometric designs lining all of its surfaces in an endless, repeated fashion.

An eternity of walking revealed the light to be a much larger exit, and from the draft came a stronger breeze. It became apparent that the chamber–or tunnel–was embedded into the side of a cliff, evident by the protruding rock over the entrance and the platform that extended outward. Exiting the tunnel proved blinding, forcing myself to shade my eyes. It was as though there were two bright lights in the sky.

I glanced away, giving my eyes time to adjust as I examined the new surroundings. The platform's edges angled to meet at a center. Parts of the floor had geometric glass embedded into it, providing a clear view of a steep valley below with a river flowing through it. I nearly tripped over myself, an uneasy feeling springing forth in my head.

I looked to see where the sphere went, finding it at a stand of sorts. Said stand was at the center-end of the platform, where the guard rails simply sank into the floor for anyone to fall off.

I picked myself up as the dizziness gradually subsided. Across the steep chasm, I could see a forest of tall evergreens. Above the canopy, I could see snow-covered mountains rising in the distance, and beyond that… the land… the ocean… it–

My eyesight finally adjusted, and I looked up.

"W-wha… what!?"

It was like the entire world had inverted itself into a ring. The horizon literally rounded upward and circled above my head, presumably to meet the other end. The ring's edges seemingly stopped at a border between its inner surface and that of space. Along this surface rested the continents, oceans, and storms, a sight as though witnessed from high above; very high above.

Words failed to capture the terrific sight. It proved hard to ignore the giant planet patterned in shades of green. It looked as though it was covered in a thick atmosphere of storms and moving gasses. Was this what gas giants look like? It reminds me of the depictions of Fiea and Wer'ak1.

I brought my eyes down and away from the sunlight so as not to blind myself. The other light I noticed seemed much closer, radiating with a strong heat but not as bright. It seems to sit at the center of the ring, too far away to be a normal light and too close to be another star.

It was hard to pull my gaze away as I kept looking to the horizon, the fantastical sight putting me in paralysis. How is something like this possible? But, wasn't this a dream? Shouldn't this be possible in anyone's mind? If so, why did this play out like memory?

A noticeable, mechanical humming sounded at the end of the platform, a bridge of light forming at the center and extending across the crevice. The glow of the sphere had been reduced, now showing a ball of metal with a central "eye"–a deep color of cyan–as it looked my way.

I brought myself before the bridge, the fragile look bringing doubt as to its integrity. Out of the hundreds of sights so far, this one appeared to be the most mystical as none of our technology came close to replicating this.

The ball made a sound, though as before no sense could be made of it. I stood still, nervous about taking the first step. The ball made an audible sigh before it promptly floated halfway across, stopping at the bridge's center as though assuring me it is safe.

Finding a stone nearby, I picked it up and tossed it on the platform, seeing it gently skitter. Several deep breaths later, my foot went forward.

The surface felt similar to… I don't know how to describe it. It seemed almost like glass, but at the same time like a rubber bending. I gently toed at the bridge's surface, almost tripping over myself as I slowly shuffled across.

After forever, finally reaching the end, I raced to the field of grass before the treeline, collapsing from mental exhaustion.

"Ground… don't leave me again."

The sphere lowered itself close to my face, perhaps making sure I hadn't fainted. It nudged at my head.

"Hang on, I get it. I just… let me have a moment."

It made another string of sounds which I still couldn't understand, "[There is no more time, little Star, we must move…]"

I took a look at the forest before me, tensing at the thought of grimm ambushing us. Mr. Ball rose several feet before moving forwards. It seemed so nonchalant when entering the woods. Could it be capable of dealing with grimm? Then again, would there be any grimm here? I was certainly not on Remnant, so maybe there was no grimm… Nor Dad, or Sis… where exactly was everyone? The whole world felt abandoned.

The sphere had yet to lead me to danger, and it was my only guide. I rose to my feet, glancing up at the ring's inner surface in trying to make sense of it. With another calming breath I continued forward.

The forest quickly became dense with vegetation and life. Sounds of animals–those of strange birds, loud crickets(?), and other unusual noises–did little ease my nerves. At one point, In the distance, a strange beast appeared, that of a long beak and fur with a dotted pattern which stood on four legs. I went to hide behind one of the trees, only to see it scurry away. Moss and patches of grass dotted the floor, the majority of it being a mix of mulch and mud. Most of the bushes appeared unusual, their growths more like bulbs of green with a blue glow, their bark veiny and gray with an occasional flower of gradient blues, purples and reds. The evergreens (at least that is what they appeared to be) were also different. They appear to stand hundreds of keits2, their growths providing cover from the sunlight above, the bark appearing as rough, hexagonal patchwork of brown material; but upon touching felt soft and moist. Their pine needles were more flat and elongated, stretching from branches that split in whichever direction.

Not long we came to a clearing, before a small lake bathed in light. Surrounding the edges were tall bundles of grass, colored blue at the base before fanning dramatically. Also sprouted were reed-like growths with fur on their ends. I stopped to inspect the waters, below the surface swimming various fish (the forms too dark to make out), their movements rippling the water, disturbing the glassy surface.

It was then I noticed a reflection. The figure–my figure–had the same white dress, her face bearing features similar to mine–there being small differences to her jawline and cheekbones. She had my gray eyes, the same ones passed down from mom. The hair looked black though with hints of gray undertones, not at all like the red shades I'm accustomed to. Her whole appearance looks eerily familiar as though she was me, yet not me.

I heard rustling coming from my right. Eyeing my surroundings showed the sphere to be nowhere in sight. Muscles tensed, and the hairs on my neck rose.

Attempts to focus my Aura proved futile, as though it wasn't even there. This is bad, really, really bad.

The rustling continued, growing closer. I shuffled back from the tall growth. The tension became thick and colored with fear. Without its protection, I felt completely vulnerable. I would be at the mercy of whatever came out.

A feminine figure stepped out, and the stress dissipated.

"Mom?"

Memories of her were few, but in them her face stood out, especially the red hair. The woman appeared exactly that, even in the photographs we have of her. It had to be her.

She wore a dress similar to mine, albeit with sleeves and a more pronounced "v" at her collar. The coloring was so bright it practically glowed.

"[My Star?!]"

I didn't know what was said, but from the tone I understood.

She yelped in surprise as I rammed into her, wrapping my arms around her waist. I felt her kneel down, hugging me in return.

The elation felt could not compare to a lifetime of Dad's cookies. A warm fuzziness shuddered throughout me as I finally found the one thing I most desired.

For what seemed like hours, we held each other. Droplets of water could be felt landing on my back. She began sobbing, burying her head into neck. Why was Mom sad? Was it that she had finally found me after all this time?

The emotion passed to me, the anxiety and stress from the whole experience releasing all at once. I began sobbing, digging myself into her chest.

Time was forgotten in the moment. Forever longer the tears stopped, only a gentle rocking taking its place as we still hugged tightly.

With a squeeze on my shoulder I pulled away for our gazes to meet. Over her shoulder, I noticed the cyan glow of the sphere in my peripheral.

"[Follow my steps, there is a view for us to see]."

Gently, we both stood up. I was guided through the grass and streams of water, coming upon a cliff edge. It held a sight of a valley, walled by two mountain ranges capped with snow and covered in thick forests, geometric structures dotted the region with several shooting beams into the light above. The horizon again lifted upwards and over our heads, its landmasses and oceans rising with it. Describing this as fantasy seemed appropriate, the vista being more breathtaking than Forever Falls. With Mom, it didn't appear as terrifying as before.

I found myself kneeling next to her as we watched the scene. My head rested against her side as her hand gently brushed my hair. It felt good.

The sphere spoke to us, or just to her, I couldn't tell. "[There is still time]..." It sounded as if it were sad.

Her form shifted somewhat, perhaps to face the sphere. I noticed it hovering slightly above the grass beside her left. Its eye looked off toward the valley.

"[... I have made my decision, and so has she.]"

I noticed her arm wrap around from behind.

"[... I'll miss you both.]"

I heard her choke before speaking, "[... I know, we're sorry.]"

Time continued in silence. The star began setting behind the green giant's horizon, now above the ring instead of directly to the left. It was fascinating yet so confusing how the orientation of this world played out. The star's light casted a shade of green and blues to the valley below, our spot now only illuminated by the second light. I looked at it, seeing that it grew from last I saw.

There was a faint pulsing from it. My eyes began to burn, forcing me to look away.

"[Do not look, the light blinds.]"

I turned to face her, seeing her smile with tears dripping. She looked at me briefly before shutting her eyes. A humming came forth, morphing into a series of long chants. It sounded like a rhythmic yawning, a haunting chant which choirs would sing to honor the dead. I shivered at the thought, and she seemed to notice.

"[Hear the song of our people, let it soothe one last time]."

My peripheral showed that the pulsing of the light increased in frequency. Everything became muted, and in a sudden flash of light my vision turned white.

The pain was brief.

---

I woke up screaming and shaking uncontrollably. A phantom of intense burning crawled all over me before dissipating.

"Ruby!?"

Dad!?

Panic began to rise. "Mom!?"

I sat up and scanned my surroundings. It was dark, the only illumination being from the shattered moon. I was still in bed, and sure enough, Dad was sitting at the side in his nightwear. The ring's horizon was nowhere to be seen, and neither was she.

What a cruel joke. She was there only to be ripped away! I wanted to go back, to fall asleep.

Tears began streaming. The pain was gone, but in its place sat a numbing sensation.

He pulled me into a hug, rocking back and forth. "huuush, shuuuush, everything's alright."

I heard the pounding of footsteps from the hallway. Yang charged through the doorway.

"I heard screaming, did something get in!?"

There was a long pause.

"Dad?"

"She's fine. Just a bad dream. Go get some rest." He answered.

My head rested against his shoulder, so I couldn't see her.

"You sure?"

"I've got this."

After a moment, I heard her leave the bedroom. I wanted to thank her for coming, but I didn't have it within me.

It was a few minutes before the tears stopped coming, after which Dad pulled himself away.

"I heard you crying in your sleep," he stated. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head.

"... Do you want me to stay?"

"... Until I fall asleep, please?"

"Alright, until you fall asleep."

---

… Zkhq brxu zhdsrqv iluhg, qrw d vrxo uhpdlqhg.

… Brx yhuplq eurxjkw wkh jdodab wr lwv nqhhv, ehqw lw wr brxu zloo.

… Brxu vroxwlrq wr klv kxqjhu zdv fkdrv.

… Iru d orqj wlph, zh kdwhg brx.

… Exw zh kdyh irujlyhq.

… Qrz, zh ghvluh rqob rughu

---

Author Notes:

1. Gas giants in Remnant's solar system. See evanvizuett/art/Remnant-System-RWBY-Solar-System-919782567. Credit goes to him/her for the names and depiction.

2. Remnant's equivalent of a meter measurement.