Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Emiya I

"SYSTEM BOOT ON"

His head was a mix of dull ache, sharp pain, and general grogginess. He opened his eyes at the robotic voice, the lights flashing across his barely opened eyes. He gruffed out a mix of a cough and a snarl as he attempted to cover his face from the brightness. As he tried this in vein, the voice continued.

"Subject: Emiya. Class: Archer. St-"

"Oh shut up," Archer kicked forward, and felt his foot hit the screen in front of him almost immediately, "Shit, this thing is tight," altogether, probably less than a foot between himself and the screen containing him. He kept kicking, causing the screen to shift, and small cracks to emerge, cracking over and interrupting the computer from repeating his "Stats".

"Wis-ZZZRT-stitu-ShRRK-"

"Come on you stupid thing," he kept kicking, and he could feel whatever was containing him was beginning to give way. For a second, he felt at the back of his mind a sudden fear at the thought of damage to the thing, but he pushed that out. Whatever was trapping him was probably some stupid Counter Force trick, and any damage he caused was not that important. He smirked to himself at that, before forcing a kick forward yet again. The voice let out one last dying line before the whole top burst out.

"Location: Red Wastes of Planet-Mission: Rescu-"

'Rescue?' Emiya would have stopped at that, as that did not sound like an explicit order from the Counter Force, but it was too late, and the screen, which was apparently the top of some kind of long, square pod, shot up into the sky from his kick. A half dozen seconds later, it came crashing back down not but a few dozen feet away. Emiya groaned, before reaching his hands out and grabbing the sides of the container, and pulling himself up into a vertical sitting position, his legs still straight, though now he could look out around himself.

The lands around him were nothing but dry barren hills, with an almost red hue to the horizon. From what little he could see, most of the foliage around him, what little there was at least, was burnt, dried, or dead for so long he could not guess the reason. The air itself was bone dry, and there was an undeniable heat to the place. Emiya placed his hand on his head, and let out a low groan. This wasn't the worst place he'd ever been, but he'd come from experience to hate deserts.

Resigned to his location, he began to consider his mission. It had been mentioned as a rescue, but Counter Guardians typically don't go on rescue missions. Hell, this entire set up was in no way similar to how Counter Guardians were usually dispatched. They weren't put inside dark pods with what looked like relatively advanced technology. Most of the time they just appeared, and knew the mission.

He forced himself to stand, and then groaned. He could feel tightness all throughout his back, from the top of his neck to the bottom of his calves, and the sudden movement to stand had caused it all to strain under the movement. He stopped himself for a second, trying to keep everything together, before shaking his head, and stepping out from the pod. Which, when he looked at it, was really more of a box. A long box that seemed to give off some morbid energy. As he got out of it, he cracked his neck, and bent down to look at some writing on the side of the box. It took him a second to recognize the strange symbol, a crescent moon with the lower end trailing out in a wave pattern. Around the moon was a solid circle which the lower wave passed by slightly, and then around that circle was a victory wreath. That symbol, for all his mixed up memories, could only mean one thing.

CHALDEA

"Oh," Emiya, despite himself, began to smirk, "The box makes more sense now."

He wasn't here because of the will of the Counter Force. And as the memories were unlocked once more in his mind, he was quite thankful that he was still in contact with this organization instead. Indeed, the deluge of memories began to burst forth into his active memory, almost more than he could sort out, but they were…comforting.

"I ask you, are you my master?"

"Shove that up your ass you stupid mutt!"

"I can never forgive you…for wearing her face."

"Fathers and sons have ways of letting each other down."

"Just a dash of paprika, that really brings out the flavor"

"I may not be what you want me to be, but I will always be your friend."

"Wow, you really just want a Reverse harem?"

"So as I pray,"

"Master, loss is part of being a hero. It will never stop hurting, and you better hope it doesn't, because if it does, that should tell you you will no longer be a hero."

"AS I PRAY, UNLIMITED BLADE WORKS."

The memories were coming in such a jumble, that Emiya could only establish the most basic through line. That he had been called to fight for the future of mankind by Ritsuka Fujimaru, the last master of Chaldea. That he had been able to work alongside dozens of other heroes from all of human history in that endeavor. And, in the end, they had won…that despite a terrible loss, they had defeated a demon, and saved humanity.

"But shouldn't that mean we were retired?" the plan had been to retire the Chaldea system after Goetia's defeat, and yet here he was, being sent out on a mission by that group. And not just summoned using a reflection, like had happened previously, but being literally sent down in a coffin by…

"Oh shit," Emiya looked back at the ruined coffin, the one he had literally smashed open in his confusion, and then remembered a beautiful brunette who had made very specific threats of what would happen if anyone destroyed some of her inventions. And as he looked over a few dozen yards to his left, where he had knocked the top off, he understood in his core that he would probably not be able to repair it himself. The twitch in his left eye confirmed to himself that the amount of fear buried in his gut was probably more than it should be.

"Da Vinci's gonna kill me."

Emiya had spent the bare minimum of time working on trying to salvage what he could from the coffin pod, though it wasn't much. While he questioned his need for things like food or water, he had taken everything he could get his hands on, on the at least somewhat reasoned position that Da Vinci wouldn't pack anything he probably wouldn't need. So, he had grabbed everything. Though again, it wasn't much.

A few bottles of water, a few days worth of ration bars, and a half dozen or so set of small handheld electronic devices that Emiya had guessed were important. He had guessed that due to them being placed together in a small bag on the side of the coffin saying "fragile" and "important equipment". If he had to guess, they were some kind of mix of trackers and communication devices, though none had worked when he had tried to activate them.

"Useless ass magitech bullshit," he had said right as he began his march off. It hadn't taken long for him to figure out which way each direction was. At least, he thought so based on the movement of the sun as it began to sink as the day began to end. He had a feeling he was traveling South, but after about an hour of walking, he realized that he had not particular reason for this direction.

While the heat was beginning to recede, it was still as though he was baking in the red sands. His throat felt as parched as the dying vegetation around him. And that he was feeling that meant that something was wrong. Whether he was a Counter Guardian or Heroic Spirit, he should not be feeling the effects of natural climate.

'Could it be magic?' he pulled out one of the provided bottles of water, something which he had only brought on a whim, but now was quite thankful for. He moved his eyes over it, 'No…this doesn't seem like any magecraft I've ever encountered, not even those times I was summoned to fight in the singularities felt like this, and unless this is some kind of reality marble,' he thought of his personal own magical plane of existence, sitting in his proverbial back pocket, 'but a reality marble this large would have to be something beyond even the greatest heroic spirit. It's possible, but…no, this is something different than that.'

He gulped down a swig of the water, and looked back up at the desert. Nothing had changed, it was the same barren wasteland that he had looked at an hour ago, only perhaps an hour or so further along.

'So I have somehow gotten myself in a solo mission,' the checklist of crap was rolling through his head, 'without any memory of my objective,' he felt a vein beginning to bulge on the side of his head, 'and no idea where I even am, on Earth or some other mystic plane,' his fingers began to tighten, 'with my body acting far too mortal for my own good,' his teeth began to grind into one another, 'and on top of all that,' his free hand grabbed the bag of little doodads and devices from his jacket.

"NO ONE EVEN GAVE ME A WAY TO CALL TO FIGURE ANY OF THIS STUFF OUT!" he probably shouldn't be shouting, talking out loud when no one else was around was a waste of time and energy, but after the past hour, he wasn't really considering the ramifications. His right hand squeezed the water bottle, causing at least half of what was remaining to spill out, "ACK!"

He tried to catch the overflowing water with his hands. That was obviously fruitless, but at least some of the liquid was cupped in his left hand. He quickly pulled it up to his mouth and gulped it down, trying to at least keep some of the liquid from being lost forever. He then looked at the bottle, and returned the cap to protect the remaining contents.

'That was stupid,' he just shook his head as he sequred what was left of the bottle under his cloak, 'I've had to preserve water before.' It had been a long time though, back before he had agreed to join the Counter Force, when he was still a fool traveling the world, 'Of course that fool never would have lost some of his only water like that.'

Just before he took back off, his mind flashed back. He looked back, and saw, that when he had been trying to catch the water, he had dropped the bag holding the devices that had been packed in the coffin.

"Shit."

He stooped down to pick up the bag. Several of the devices and trinkets had fallen out of it, scattered on the sands. He began to pick them up one by one, again looking them over. Again, a few had some kind of button or some kind of light, but nothing that was clearly meant to help him. On the third to last one, however, he picked it up, but felt something strange.

It was a small little gold triangle with a flowery C in the middle that was wrapped in an Olympic Olive Wreath, the symbol of the Chaldea organization. When he moved it in his hand, it immediately moved back to the position it had been pointing at before. He tried moving it again, and it moved straight back. He looked at it, saw that it was pointing in the direction he guessed was Southeast. He moved it to what he guessed with Northwest, and it twirled back One hundred eighty degrees and pointed in the same exact direction.

'Okay,' he grabbed up the last two devices and stuffed them in the bag, tightened the bag closed and shoved it in the cloak's pocket. He then held out his hand, the device continuing to point in the same direction, 'I guess I'm not completely blind.'

And with that, the sun ever falling toward the dunes of sand, Emiya marched forward, determined, if nothing else, to figure out exactly what he was looking for.

He supposed it wasn't too much of a shock that now, alongside being affected by both thirst and hunger, for which he had come to recognize the wisdom of the rations being packed, he was also capable of being tired. Not tired as the few times before, when as a servant his master had run low on Mana and he had been forced to fight without a full reservoir of magical energy. No, tired as his muscles ached, his joints groaned, and his eyes seemed to be fighting him for the right to close. And despite this, he pressed on not in slow ponderous walk, but a run, up and down the dunes of red sand, weaving constantly back and forth around the continuing shifting terrain.

Still, as he made progress, he could feel the tracker pointing him ever forward. Or at least, mostly. As he made a straight line throughout the quickly ending day, and the slowly rising night, he could also feel the pointed piece of metal ever so slightly shift. It was still pointing Southeast, but it was slightly further to the north than it had been. Wherever he was going, it had either been moving North or Northeast, and, he hoped, that meant closer to him. It also likely meant that whoever was moving. He considered the possible situations he could find himself in.

'Maybe there is a convoy moving a prisoner,' he considered, continuing to push his body, at least glad that the hot sun was no longer beating down on his head, 'It would mean that whatever I am about to do, I need to be careful. I can't just barge in, especially if they are actually holding a hostage.'

As the moon began to climb, he guessed he had already made it some hundred miles on foot in the eight hours since his arrival. More affected by the climate he maybe, but he clearly still possessed some magic in his body, as he was moving at a pace far faster than any ordinary human could hope to keep up, and was doing so while constantly being forced to duck and weave throughout the dunes.

'Might have been able to shave another hour off if it weren't for the terrain,' he considered, slightly frustrated with himself, 'still, this shouldn't be wearing me down. If Chaldea sent me, I'm a servant, and that should mean I should be able to go at least twice as fast as this.'

That this would be a world record running speed for any ordinary human was obviously ignored. What mattered more was preparing himself for whatever challenge was awaiting him when he finally reached where his "compass" was pointing. And that meant not pushing himself too hard, or going in guns blazing, like he might have when he was younger and more foolish. So, as he considered his options, he reached a valley between two great dunes, almost hidden in the shade by the size of red sanded beasts, and then shot up into the moonlit side. After a moment, he burst to the top of the sand, and just as he was about to go down again, he atop the dune, he could suddenly see the beginnings of a long set of mountains that had been mostly hidden from him as he had been moving about and through the dunes.

Beneath the dune was a long, winding road. Or, maybe a great path was a better term for it, as there was no pavement or stone to mark it as a constructed road. It was made primarily of sand, but harder, with clear markings on the sides of it with small rocks placed a few yards apart. It was the bare minimum, but on some level he guessed it was likely the best that anyone could do in a place like this.

And as he looked down on that road, he saw what had to be his target, slowly moving along. It was what looked like a massive herd of camels, a hundred of the hump-backed beasts strolling along the route. On their backs were a mix of riders and supplies, with some camels appearing to have packages that were almost their exact same size hanging on their backs. Some had massive rolls along their backs, likely some kind of fine fine cloth. On some of their sides hung massive skins that seemed to jiggle slightly despite being secured with several lengths of rope. And even a few in the middle appeared to carry large wooden boxes, with metal locks holding the contents in, likely the most valuable of the goods being transported. For all that the herd of camels gave the appearance of a wild stampede, with the eighty or so human riders constantly moving either around or through the herd made it clear this was a well organized method of transportation. Likely a method of trade that had been passed down for generations.

Though some of the riders seemed to remain stuck in the middle, and with his enhanced eyesight, he could see glinting steel in the moonlight, chains tying about six or so people to the camels. Unlike the other riders, they did not weave back and forth through the herd, and were absolutely not allowed to get close to the perimeter. A few times, some of the other riders would swoop up on one of their sides, and look them over, before taking off once again. These half dozen or so riders were just as much cargo as chests, cloth and bags.

And as the great herd moved past him, he stretched his arm, and pointed the "Compass" he had been given, and felt the device move, pointing him ever towards the herd itself. And as he sighed.

"I guess I found who I'm supposed to rescue."

He followed the caravan from a short distance, never more than a mile away from the camels. He had forgotten how fast camels could actually move, and though he was able to slow down a bit, around five miles an hour now, he was still forced to keep pace with the herd. Though knowing exactly what his goal was kept his mind better focused on the mission, and less on his aching muscles. As the moon climbed high over the desert sands, the camels continued to push down the route.

'This is strange,' he thought as he continued to move behind them, 'this isn't how camel trains worked when I crossed the Gobi,' it was always painful to remember his foolish quest before becoming a Counter Guardian, but he had the distinct memory of a camel train being a slow, methodical movement of ordinary men walking alongside their beasts. A long line of up to a thousand beasts and dozens of men walking along the desert. Those camel trains could travel vast distances in fairly short amounts of time, at least during older days, but he had never seen anything like this, 'also, we traveled during the early day, not during the night.'

It was another strange phenomenon, much like the red waste desert itself, or his changed body. It was a mixture of magic and mundane that did not make sense, and he was trying to gather what he thought of it. He had been following along for around three hours now, and they had gone in a strange manner North East, following the barely marked out path.

And just as he continued to wonder about the strange caravan, suddenly, it came to a halt. He quickly stopped himself being on a dune severely hundred yards away, and ducked down to allow himself to observe them unnoticed. For the next few minutes, he saw some of the riders moving around between different spots in the area. As the few would stop and discuss, other camels were brought up by a few of the other riders. These camels had some of the largest rolls on their backs of any of the beasts. Once they were done discussing, and moved to a different location, the large roll was unfurled, and a large wooden stake was shoved into the ground, with wires coming out from the roll attached to small metal spokes. In less than three minutes two or three of these men were, likely through experience and tradition, able to put up a massive circular tent, with a diameter he guessed of about five yards. The tents were not that ornate, merely some fabric with one side open, but it was still more than comfortable enough for a man and his camel to fit underneath without any issue.

The riders continued this process, and it was only after seeing the whole process of the first one that he recognized what had been occurring. That planning set of riders had set out to form around twelve of these tents in a large circle, all with the open flap facing outward. And then, as the last of these was completed, two sets of three camels were brought up, and around ten riders on each grabbed and pulled a strange set of connected fabrics from all three of their backs. With a speed nearly rivaling the smaller tents construction, Emiya nearly felt the need to whistle as he saw two much larger tents emerge, and then, in a frankly astounding act of knots and cloth management, tied them together into one large tent. If he had to guess, the rectangular tents was about fifty yards by thirty yards, with all the sides open.

One of the short men then blew a horn, and the camels, all except for the twelve that were being held in the outer tents, seemed to rush into the central structure. When all of the beasts and their cargo, human or not, was inside, one of the men remaining on the outside let go of a wire, and the sides of the tent fell down, concealing the inside of the tent from the outside world. And then, the sudden mass of activity was gone.

It was silent.

Just as the sun's first light began to peak out from the horizon.

Emiya let out a low whistle. That had actually been impressive. These people had clearly created a system to allow them to travel quickly at night, and then hide themselves in the shade of their tents during the heat of the day. They also had created a perimeter of guards that would make approach from any direction tricky, as more than likely each of the guards would have one of those horns, and with one blow of that, all the guards would come rushing, and the other riders inside would know, and prepare for battle.

"And I have to get in there, and rescue a hostage," he groaned. He had been hoping for something a little less prepared. He looked over the circle, and then tried to see whatever weakness in the defense. He supposed that he could try and snipe one of the guards with his bow, he was an Archer, but he'd rather not have to add any additional issues if he somehow did get caught. Killing someone's comrade didn't tend to make negotiations easier.

So, he began to look over the tents, and then looked back at the sun as it began to rise. And then he looked at the suddenly emerging shadows that seemed to shoot to the west in long columns from the tent circle. He considered this, and then smiled. He placed his hands on his cloak, and let out a declaration.

"Trace on."

Changing the color of his cloak to a color that almost matched the sand hadn't been that difficult, it was only slightly different than its current color, so roughing it up had been a minor change. Adding a hood to hide his hair had been relatively simple too, thinking out some of the non essential sections of the cloak. Honestly, he'd have to thank Boudica next time he saw her for helping him work on figuring out tracing and projecting changes to his clothing. It was going to be a life saver.

It was a slow process, crawling up the shadow. It was still early, and Emiya was lucky, the way the sun had hit the camp meant that not only was he being covered by the smaller tent shadow, but also from the larger tent itself. Over the next hour, the Counter Guardian had pushed up almost exactly to the outer tent. That the guard had not noticed was a minor miracle. In fact, he made a point to look up at the tent right in front of him…

To see that the guard had fallen asleep.

'This…this strategy helped me avoid being spotted by the other guards,' he pushed himself up, and dusted himself off as he looked over the sleeping man, whose garb was very baggy, with one of the horns that he had heard earlier wrapped his his waist, with a large hood over his head obscuring most of his features. Though not his snoring. Emiya shook his head, 'it had to help me from getting spotted by the other guards.'

At least telling himself that soothed a bit of his ego.

He pushed himself inside the tent circle, and then pulled out his "compass" once more. And as he suspected, it pointed to the larger tent. He had seen the chains around the people in the middle of the caravan, and with the whole idea this was a rescue mission, this almost certainly meant it was one of them. But he couldn't just go slicing and dicing. He needed to see if he could sneak in, grab the target, and sneak out without a fight.

He moved towards the main tent, and felt at its side. It was a surprisingly heavy material, and he almost couldn't lift it up. He decided that his best way forward would be to find one of the actual entrances along the side, and slip in through there, rather than to try and go underneath the tent side, and cause a ruckus with the extra light and changing dynamic of the tent. He pushed himself up against the side to provide cover, and then began to circle around the outside of the massive central tent.

After about a third of the way around, he spotted the flap that was clearly one of the entrances. He pushed his eyes as hard as he could, straining them to look into the dark inside of the structure, and from what he could tell, there was no one already looking at the entrance. He pushed closer, ready to slip in, and begin his infiltration of the tent, when he felt something strange in his hand.

He looked into it, and noticed that the "Compass" he was using was no longer pointing towards main tent. As he had made his way around, it seemed to be pointing at one of the smaller tents that had been on the opposite side of the tent from him, and was now pointing at one of the guard tents. For a moment, he thought about the possibility that the device maybe steering him in the wrong direction. But then, he remembered that the only reason he was even in the camp was because of the device. Altogether, if it got him this far, he should probably attempt to at least follow it to its conclusion.

He kept close to the main tent's side, to provide at least some cover before he crossed over to the outer rim of guard tents. As he did so, the compass clearly showed to be pointing at one specific tent, facing what had been near the front of the caravan. He considered his next move, before sliding across the distance between tents, and he observed the smaller tent. He noticed that there was a second flap, much like the one on the larger tent, on the inner side of the tent. He pulled it open, all the while manifesting Kanshou and Bakuya.

"Oi," the voice from inside the tent seemed mostly nonplussed by the sound of the opening cloth. He, like the other man, was covered in protective desert cloth, and almost none of his body was visible, especially from behind, "Isn't it a bit early to change the guard?"

The voice sounded familiar. It was deeply masculine, with an edge of hard experience within it. But their was also a bit of playful condescension. With his mind still scrambled from his entry into this place of existence, he couldn't fully place it. Something seemed a bit off…

"Come now," the figure, which had remained focused on looking out over the Red Wastes, putting his hands on his knees, and began to push himself up to a standing position, "If we are to be comrades, at least give me an explanation about changes in our plans. I know I do not-"

Before the figure could fully get up, Emiya was right behind him, Kashou placed next to his neck. The figure, realizing the blade was right next to him, stopped moving.

"...I know I do not share many of your customs," the figure continued carefully, his demeanor beginning to curl into a crouch. There was danger in his voice, and it had only become more familiar, "But I doubt that it speaks well of you as an employer to slit the throat of the warriors you have hired."

"I'm not one of your employers," Emiya said straightly. He felt some relief that even with the limitations on his body, he could still speak any human language he could run across. He pulled Kanshou slightly away from the figure's neck, "I am-"

"That makes things simple," and with that, the man ducked forward, dodging Kanshou all the while delivering a fierce kick to Emiya's head.

Emiya nearly cursed himself as he stepped back. He readjusted to his previous stance, and shot forward. As he did so, he moved his blades into a sort of mid level stance, one that could both strike forward with deadly force, but block if needed. He made it two steps before that second part was necessary, as his one time hostage pulled out a curved sword of his own and slashed upward, and Emiya blocked it away with Bakuya. He then danced around, and delivered a spinning back kick to the shoulder of his target, causing him to roll on the sand underneath the tent, before jumping back up into a defensive stance. Emiya looked his opponent in the eye for the first time, and caught a flash of red eyes on an unusually pale skin, before he saw that the figure moved forward with another slash. Emiya side-stepped, and then kneed his opponent in his gut, sending him against the back of the tent, and ultimately through the flap in the tent he had entered from.

Emiya took a second, and let out a small sigh of relief when he saw the horn that he had previously noticed on the sleeping guard lying on the sands, split in two. He pushed his way out through the flap in the tent, and looked at the coughing figure. He raised his eyebrow at how quickly the man was getting up, and rearranging his fighting stance.

"I commend you for your fighting spirit," he offered at the man in front of him, "It isn't easy to fight somebody like me and make me sweat even a little bit-"

"That is not all I have," the man stood up, and for the first time Emiya realized that they were basically the same height. Emiya once again took in his opponent's red eyes, and in the back of his mind remember the relation to the gods that signified, before he was taken aback, as his opponent grabbed his cloak, and ripped it forward.

Now, standing before him, his target was in a light leather armor that clung to him as best something from medieval crafters could. Nothing like modern material, but the leather was clearly well fitted to him, to allow a great deal of movement, especially in comparison to chain mail or even heavier plate. The armor itself was a mix of gray and blue, with a scene of what looked like a pack of dogs surrounding what looked like a herd of cows being proudly emblazoned across the man's chest. But what most caught Emiya's eye was not anything to deal with the man's battle hardened form, well designed armor, or even the sneer on his face. No, it was his hair.

His long…blue hair.

Emiya felt his frown crash into a scowl, and almost began to grit his teeth as the exact parameters of his mission finally began to return to the forefront of his mind. He growled, pointing Bakuya at Cu Chulainn, Ireland's Child of Light and one of the servants he had been sent to rescue.

"Of course it's you."

"Servant Emiya," Goredolf's voice rang out across the loudspeaker, drawing Emiya's attention upward, "Please report to the transportation bay at once. On the third deck, starboard side. I will meet you there on the way. We are beginning our next operation."

Emiya looked back at Boudica, and then over at the human staff who were sleeping around the new mess hall. Storm Glider had been larger than they expected to have been created, at least as a new base to replace old Chaldea, but it was still going to take time to get the surviving hundred and fifty or so Chaldea staff put away into their new rooms. The attack on their old home base had been swift and deadly, with nearly half of staff wiped out. That this place even existed, and at the size that it was, was shocking. But, it would be a while before arranging rooms for all these people, and in the three days they had been on the run, everyone had either been working to bring all the systems up to function, keeping functions operating after a few stray attacks, or staying in the mess hall, either eating or sleeping.

Emiya, Boudica, Tamamo-Cat and the three surviving cooks from their time at Chaldea had kept food moving, but it had been a tough go of it. When they had worked together during the singularities, despite the staff already taking heavy casualties, there had been almost a dozen cooks in the kitchen.

"Can you keep an eye on all of them," Emiya looked over at one young man, an Indian magus who had been among the youngest of Chaldea's staff, Sri, slept up against the wall. Sri had lost an older brother when the original 48 masters were slaughtered in Lev's ambush and now had lost an older sister when the communications staff had been massacred by the thing that was currently wearing Kirei Kotmine's body, "I need to go help with this."

"Will do," Boudica nodded. She looked at him, then at Sri, and then back, before her lips moved up, but it never really made it to her eyes, "He is a strong boy. He'll get through this."

Emiya nodded at that. As he turned to leave, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Be safe," she said. Then she let go.

He nodded, and left the mess hall. He made his way throughout the ship, passing mostly servants at this point. They were pretty much the only ones still capable of standing after the past seventy two hours. Even then, there were too many servants missing. It had been strange, but the work had distracted Emiya, and he guessed that right now, he was about to get an explanation.

As he walked into the Transportation Bay, he saw Goredolf was the only one standing there. The fat magus was slouching against the wall, trying to push himself upward, but losing that battle. His hair and mustache were covered in dry sweat, and the rings under his eyes only confirmed the exhaustion the man was experiencing. He might be the only human still standing among the whole of the crew, but that would only be for so long. Goredolf coughed, before affixing Emiya with his most professional appraisal.

"Archer Emiya," he said, his jowls shaking as he spoke, "It is good to have you arrive so quickly. We have managed to find a lead on the final attack we experienced from the Alien God's servants, and what damage they did to the Throne of Heroes."

"They were able to damage the Throne of Heroes…that doesn't sound metaphysically possible."

"Goredolf said the same thing," Emiya turned around, but didn't see Da Vinci, who the voice clearly belonged to, "I try to tell him that we are currently dealing with beings that treat timelines like dental floss, but "blah, blah" Rules "Blah, blah" Mystery "Blah, blah, blah" Magecraft isn't magic, you can't just say it does something."

Goredolf was slightly blushing at that, but Emiya held up his hand, "Don't worry about it," Emiya just placed his hand on his shoulder, "Whatever you have to do to maintain some level of sanity. We wouldn't be even alive right now without you."

"Thank you Emiya."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Da Vinci continued. Emiya continued to look around to try and spot her, but couldn't, "I'm just really kind of distracted right now, and I need to concentrate before we can send you out on this mission."

"Right, what is this mission?"

"Right," Da Vinci said something, before pausing, and then Emiya heard a crank of a wrench somewhere, "Eh, Goredolf, could you please do an introduction, I need to get some of these things ready before we shoot him out. Now the PSI should be at six tho-"

"Excuse me, shoo-"

"Archer," Goredolf pulled up a screen, and Emiya looked over at it. It showed a blueprint of the Storm Glider, at the moment it was green, "42 hours after our escape from Chaldea, the Storm Glider briefly encountered what we believe to have been an agent of the Alien God that had caused our flight from our original base," the screen showed the blank figure of a person, with a question mark on it's stomach, "We managed to evade any sort of direct damage to the Storm Glider, but as we attempted to jet off in a final escape, we were hit with some kind of final phased spell from the attacker," the figure raised its hands up and a strange glow seemed to come out and wave over the entirety of the Storm Glider, "It did no damage, but it did somehow use the attack to infiltrate the Throne of Heroes."

Emiya felt his blood run cold. While he had felt the phased attack, he had dismissed it in the ruckus. With everything going on, trying to maintain order and keep the crew standing, he just hadn't been able to check out the servants, who he had assumed were more than capable of keeping themselves together. He had seen far fewer servants than there should have been throughout the last day or so…

"We cut off the wave as soon as possible," Da Vinci said, "So it no longer has infiltrated the throne-but"

"But we are now 12 servants short," Goredolf just shook his head, "We were first alerted to the incident when Santa Lily," Emiya understood the desire to avoid the full name, "Alerted us to the disappearance of her second older sister."

"Jeanne Alter," Emiya's eyes then widened, "What about her sister. Jeanne is-"

"Still assisting Nightingale and the Doctor with Master's recovery," Emiya could hear the relief in Da Vinci's voice, "Thank God," and despite his own tumultuous relationship with the divine, Emiya could relate to the sentiment, "But that is still 11 other servants that went missing. We still have over twenty in active operation, but losing a quarter of our strongest fighting force is not acceptable. Not to mention the destruction of a dozen heroes of legend from the throne might be bad moving forward."

"Which servants?"

"Jeanne Alter, was the first," the dark witch appeared on screen in a box, "Then Xuanzang Sanzang," the pretty monk of the Journey to the west appeared next to the Alter, "Cu Chulainn, version Lancer," his rival smirked on the screen, "Siegfried, Francis Drake, Arash," the dragon slayer, female pirate and persian archer appeared, "Nitocris, Alstofo, Mata Hari, Robin Hood, Paracelsus Von Hohenheim," queen pharaoh, the frilly knight, dancer, outlaw thief and the scientist appeared, "Artoria Pendragon, version Saber."

…

"What do you need me to do?" Emiya should have known something was wrong, but he had seen a few other versions of Artoria throughout the day, and not seeing Saber had just slipped his mind. Stupid. Of course a version of Artoria would likely been taken, there were still four that hadn't been taken, but this could not stand.

"Calm down for a second, and let Goredolf explain while I finish up," There was a cranking sound from where Da Vinci was speaking, and he saw some steam escape from some metal pipe. Goredolf coughed, and Emiya looked back at him. Goredolf nodded, and then had the screen move again, washing away the pictures of both the ship and the pictures of the servants. Instead, all that was on the screen now as a large grid almost appeared, with dozens of different waves swinging back and forth horizontally across it.

"We spent the next twenty or so hours monitoring for magical signals that matched the waves that the attack landed on our systems," the screen showed a set of sign curves slowly but surely being whittled down from dozens to one, "Once we found them, we identified what appears to be a strange plane of existence when the magic came from," it settled on what looked like one long frequency, "We used some of our systems, and we were able to determine that, for despite everything, all twelve of the missing servants were there."

Relief seemed to wash over Emiya. 'She's okay,' he almost saw green eyes beneath golden bangs.

"However, they are separated out on this plane of existence," Goredolf continued, "The readings are so strange, we aren't able to get a lock on any of them. Not only that, but we couldn't even get too close without damage caused by the magical field around this plane. So Da Vinci has spent the last ten hours rearranging our last coffin for transportation through the magical field."

Suddenly, the coffin, Emiya recognized it as being a model that Master and Mashu had gone into for the Babylonia Singularity, rose into his view. It opened, and Emiya saw where the traveler was meant to lie down.

"We are going to send you down to what we were able to identify was a land mass," Good, hate to land in an ocean, "And then have you seek out the missing servants, and then, once they have been identified, contact us for an extraction."

"Why me?" Goredolf blinked at that. Emiya turned back to where he guessed Da Vinci was, "Why was I determined to be the best one to be sent on this mission?"

"Educated guess really," was the swift response, "With how strange everything is, I wanted to send someone who we could judge to be the least affected by the magical field. We judged that you, as one of our Counter Guardians, would be the best choice. We are flying kind of blind on this, especially since we can only send one person at the moment."

"And with Master injured it couldn't be him," he remembered a glance at Fujimaru Ritsuka being wheeled along in a gurney as they had left Chaldea, blood and bile dripping on the ground. For all her insanity, Emiya had never seen a look like that in Nightingale's eyes as she had led their wounded Master to the infirmary. But it had only been a moment, but if he had been that bad before, he guessed they should just be thankful that their master was still alive. He looked back at the coffin, before another tanned man with bright white hair entered his mind. "What about Kitsurugu?"

"He was our other choice," there was acknowledgement in that statement, "But, well…"

"I decided you were the one I trusted more," a strained voice offered. Another speaker from higher up spoke up. Emiya recognized the voice that had called him to Chaldea years ago.

"Ritsuka," he clenched his teeth, "What are you doing?"

"I've been consulted on our strategy," the voice continued, a mix of cough and chuckle really.

"And I recommended against it," a voice that was wound far too tight for its own good added. Emiya felt some more relief. If Nightingale was allowing him to speak, then the Master was at least out of mortal danger, "STRONGLY."

"You recommend against everything," the voice nearly laughed, before a sick cough overtook it. For a full ten seconds, Emiya just stared at the speaker, and with a quick look, he could to Goredolf was as uncomfortable as he was, "Listen Emiya, when I heard about what happened with our friends, I wanted to get in that coffin myself. But they won't let me out of this bed for a while, so I had to choose someone to go and save them. And I chose you of our best available options. Every single one of those servants is precious to me, and I know you know that. So I am trusting you with the first mission of Novum Chaldea."

"Of course," Emiya nodded.

"Da Vinci, set him up with all the stuff you cooked up," Ritsuka's voice had begun to get weaker, "I…I need to lie down again."

"You got it Ritsuka," Da Vinci's voice was strained, and it was clear she was barely holding back her emotions. The master's voice cut out, and then she cut back in, "Now, to get you there, we are actually going to have to change your makeup on the travel in."

"Change m-"

"You will be transferred into a body that is more human in order to help pass through the waves of magic. General servant signals can't seem to get through, which is why we can't just locate them and beam them out. But as you are a Counter Guardian, it shouldn't be too much of a stretch to make a human body that can get through easy enough," Goredolf added, "We judged that you will still be far beyond the normal strength of a human, but nothing beyond that."

"Understood."

"You will be supplied with enough food and water for one week with that body," Goredolf continued, "At least to keep you moving. At the same time we will also have several of Da Vinci's inventions to assist you in this bag."

Goredolf held out a metal triangle with the Chaldea signal, "This is a sensor of lost servants. When you get down there, it will serve as a homing compass to find our missing comrades. When it comes time to move from one servant to the next, have them place a bit of blood on the thing, and it will begin seraching the next closest servant."

Then, he showed a slight steel cylinder, "This is your communication device. We will try and stay in contact, but with the waves as they are, we can't guarantee we will keep in contact."

And finally, he pulled out thirteen small rings, "These are the most important of our gifts. When you have gathered up a servant, place this on one of their hands, and then we should be able to get a solid lock on them. Twist this little latch," he pointed at a slight switch just on the outside of one of the rings, "And we will know to transport the one wearing the ring here."

"You came up with all this in ten hours?"

"A lot of these were things Roman and I were working on over the years while tinkering" Da Vinci admitted rather sheepishly, "But that's not important. What is important is you getting down there and saving our comrades."

"Right," Emiya nodded, as he walked up to the coffin. He looked down at the rather morbid sight of it, before placing the bag of devices into the side pocket. He laid down, and nodded at Goredolf, who began to close the lid.

"No don't worry," Da Vinci said, as a screen began to light up on the inside of the lid, "You might have some mental lapses when we send you down, but that's just part of the process. This screen should be able to tell you what you are going to do when you get down there. Just don't smash it please."

"I make no promises."

"Jerk," lights began to flicker, "Beginning transference procedure now."

Suddenly, two clamps came up around his arms. And then two more around the bottom of his heels, and then finally two more, one around his stomach and a sixth and final around his neck. He began to struggle, before he felt pricks from needles entering into him from all these clamps. But instead of some kind of sedation, which he might have expected, it was almost as if he felt some kind of connection form. Some ethereal ribbons stretching into a space beyond his sight. He began to try and move, but the clamps kept him still.

Then, he saw the ribbons, but only as though they were some ghostly fabric. And they were twirling up high, above his supine form. And above his head, he thought he almost saw another version of himself, hanging in the air. Only after a moment did he realize that the ribbons were connected between the body above him and himself in the exact same spots. The form above him began to straighten until it was directly on top of him. It was rather incredible really, as there was no way this body was actually above him, the body was far too high to be in the coffin, but on some metaphysical plane this new body was now connected to him.

"The tethering process has begun, and the chemical seems to be working," Davinci continued, "Now, we begin both the process of both transporting you across the magical plane, and the simultaneous stitching of your soul to the human body, and the merging of both your magical circuits and neural systems from one body to two," the screen in front of him seemed to show both Emiya's current body and the new body being literally stitched together, with each part of them being almost sown into one form.

"This…this isn't going to hurt much is it?"

"Oh Emiya," she laughed.

"I make no promises."

It had hurt, now that he remembered.

Alot.

"I don't know who you are," Cu Chulainn pointed at Emiya's face. There was no recognition in his eyes. But there was anger, "But whatever those whoremongers of Lys offered you, understand that the price you will pay for coming here is your head."

"Wait-"

Cu brought his fingers up to his hands, and let out a shrill whistle. For a second, they just stood there, but then Cu surged forward, with only his fists as weapons. But they had sparred and fought enough over the past year or so that Emiya knew Cu's fists could be as deadly as any weapon. He ducked left, and then right, as Cu kept his stance compact as a matter of protection. This stance, however, wasn't the same as when they fought.

No, now that he was looking more closely at Cu, he noticed several changes. Above his right eyes, there was a scar that bisected the eyebrow. There was at least one missing tooth on on his lower jaw, one of the left premolars. The rest of the teeth looked healthier, so he guessed it was likely from some accident knocking it out. As he dodged left, he noticed that Cu's arm actually went further than usual, and realized that, despite having been already a rather large man, Cu was actually taller than he had been when he had last seen him, perhaps three or so inches…And as he looked over the stubble that Cu had fought rather unsuccessfully to tame, Emiya could remember how Cu had commented in frustration about his inability to grow a beard, having been actually around 18 when he had died.

But all that meant, that Cu looked like he was at least in his late twenties, if not in his early thirties.

'But that can't be right,'Emiya looked over the physical changes that had taken hold in Cu. He then made another dodge, though despite the changes to his muscle memory, it wasn't that difficult, his magically enhanced body allowing him to move more or less beyond Cu's range at the moment, 'Cu was gone for thirty or so hours. There is no way that he could change so much in that short a time.'

"I got your spear!"

Emiya felt the change in the air when a young voice shouted that from the main tent. He jumped up and over Cu, back closer to the guard tent. When he turned around, he saw Cu twirling what appeared to be a two and a half yard long spear, made of solid metal. Despite his apparent weakness in comparison to his servant self, it was obvious that this Cu was still monstrously strong. And that stupid smirk had crawled over Cu's face, the one that he had always shown when he was feeling particularly cocky when going up against Emiya. He raised his free left hand, and waved back towards the tent.

"Thank you Colan," he said loudly. Emiya stopped.

"Cola-" he looked over, and saw a boy at the edge of the main tent. This Colan was about ten years old, with a still fairly pale complexion, and a fierce grin on his face.

And alongside that, he had blue hair.

"No wa-"

"I knew it," the spear was suddenly right in front of Emiya's face. Cu's eyes had hardened, and for the life of him, Emiya could not help but compare Cu to a pissed off Doberman, "You are here for Colan. Even when I left Qarth you won't stop until you take back your "Property"," there was such hate in his voice that if it were a poison Emiya would have dropped there and then, "Well you aren't ever going to have him. Your master in Myr won't lay a finger on that boy."

'Please don't tell me-'

"You will never take my son from me!" Cu shouted in a rage, and rushed forward.

Author's Notes: Well this was way too much for a rather silly idea. Still, I am rather proud of it. Next chapter will be up next week. It will be shorter than this, but hopefully will continue to move