Future History: The Coming of the Empire of Man

This is typical of father-to-child home instruction in the Empire, which is the most education on history that most Imperial children get and is mirrored in Imperial propaganda (i.e. all their media), and differs only in the tone and vocabulary used. This would be typical of a doctor to his children, or someone of similar rank, but not part of the Empire's true elite.

What is now called "The Old World" or "The Age of Wonders" ended in a cataclysm, the Azure Flames. What we now know, centuries later, is that this was a divine subversion of an infernal conspiracy's attempt to utilize a mass human sacrifice to power a ritual summoning to bring their master into this world. The ritual failed, the destruction ruined a corrupt civilization, and allowed for the release of a different infernal entity: Legion.

It also put down a judgement on all alive past the age of reason, condemning their corpses to Legion upon death. It also allowed Legion to take any other man's corpse that it slew as the beast it was, but we know now that there was a catch: Legion had to use a human agent and work through him. No agent? Banished once more to realms beyond Man's reach. This is the origin of the villain and traitor known as "The Necromancer", and the source of his immense power.

The infernal conspiracy had its turncoats and sandbaggers. Two of them we now know as The Archmage of Solador, and the Founder of The City-State. We know of the existence of a score of others. These would become, along with The Necromancer, the Dark Lords that dominated the era after the Coming of the Azure Flames known now as "The Wars of the Damned".

The chaos brought about by the rampant sin of our predecessors had one mercy, now also known to be divinely granted, in the transformation of one righteous man into the legendary Ken, father of the race that would allow our Emperor the time and territory needed to gather the remnant of the faithful together into our glorious Empire and build us into a single nation capable of winning our world back from the Dark Lords.

Now, as we near five centuries since the Azure Flames ended the Age of Wonders, the Empire put down The Necromancer and ended Legion's threat. Other Dark Lords hide from the Empire, knowing we are mighty and armed with more than muscle and machines. Their ruinous powers cannot withstand our faith. One by one, we shall put all of them to the sword and burn their blighted lands to ash before claiming them as our own once more. Go forth, my son, and serve the Emperor with all your heart. The Emperor will lead us to victory, to true freedom, and bring cleansing fire to all who defy what is commanded of us.

Note that this is not the actual truth of the Empire of Man. The actual truth is that it is another "Dark Lord", born of the same conspiracy that caused the cataclysm. The Empire deliberately models itself on Warhammer 40000's Imperium of Man, and its own inspirations, and as its technical proficiency increases more things out of those inspirations appear. However, the Empire does have one quirk of its own: it does not have a military- it IS the military; there is no civilian life. Every man is a soldier. Every woman is a nurse. This grants total control over the population under permanent wartime conditions, and permanent subjection to military authority; the religious overtones are the mockery of a true faith, with the Emperor as a Priest-King. While talking a lot about purity and opposition to the supernatural, it harbors a hidden elite with powers of their own. Thus the Empire is, in truth, a militant cult- one that officially celebrates and unofficially hates its allies.

Exploratory Writing: The Genesis of Solador

An old man sat at an oversized desk in a undersized office. He dressed in a poor attempt at being fashionable. He displayed, in addition to the minimal academic credentials, useless marks of distinction for social fads of passing use to burnish his credibility. He looked less a man than a man-like mockery, weak and ineffectual. On his desk sat a sign, shining in the rare afternoon sun: "Dr. G.H. Lane, PhD."

Over an old intercom, the man heard a young woman speak: "Dr. Lane, Mr. Dan is here to see you."

Before Lane could allow Dan to enter, the latter man did just that.

"It's been a while, Gary." Dan said, "You're the department head now? How does it feel to run a useless degree mill?"

Lane looked up with a snarl on his lips. "Get in, and lock the door behind you."

Dan did, and Lane took a moment to take him in: in good shape, clean cut, looking like he'd just come out of Chinatown, and carrying a pistol in a shoulder holster.

"You're working, Dan?" Lane said, "Or is this part of the family business?"

Dan took a seat. "You didn't call me to ask a favor, Lane."

Lane sighed. "The big one's been finalized." Lane put a manila folder on his desk. "Project Omelas."

Dan took up the folder and began reading. "They're serious." he said, "And this scheme will work?"

Lane's snarl became a wicked grin. "Of course. I authored it, and you did your part. How could it fail? The final parts are in place, and failsafes are active to three degrees."

"Simultaneously detonating nuclear warheads in the ten most populated cities in the world, and then having the Agency's pet terrorists take the fall?"

"We have full-spectrum dominance, Dan. The Narrative will hold, and in the shock the peoples of the world will accept it. As for the naysayers, they'll be rounded up under color of law by the end of the year." Lane said, "Which brings me to the reason you're here."

Dan kept reading. "You're taking point on local operations here." he said, "So you want me back on the team as your #2."

Lane leaned back in his chair, putting one hand to his forehead while making a sign like as if to say "Okay." but leaving the other fingers out; a careful, or knowing, look saw the 666 symbol in that sign. Dan returned it.

"Go on to the second part." Lane said, pointing to the folder.

"Oh..." Dan said, "They are serious. The logistics alone to make this coordination possible is-"

"Impossible." Lane said, "They are going to fuck it up, and at this scope and scale fucking it up means a global backlash."

Dan looked up at Lane. "Be more specific."

"The brotherhood, using the globalist fake terror attack as a front, will use the nukes as a ritual of human sacrifice. The reason for all that power is to summon the master back from beyond and into the world. But they will screw it up, and that power will instead break loose and wash all over the world. The world burns, and only those prepared will survive."

Lane leaned over his desk. "I am prepared. Join me, and so will you. Bring your family to the Space Needle for the Christmas Party. The others, and their families, will also be present. Project Omelas will be had, but not as they intended."

"Solador." Dan said, "You're going to make Solador real?"

"And follow my thesis instead of the intended one."

Dan nodded. "I'll be there."

The New Barbarians-12

A bit of an epilogue, as much as anyone is likely to read this deserves one, is in order.

One of the benefits of a secure location is the luxury of thinking further ahead than the next season, or the next Winter, and instead thinking a generation or two down the road. With more children coming, and still more after that, the care and development of future generations of the clan now needed to be addressed. Literacy, in particular, and the prevention of the degradation of the knowledge we had when Civilization fell is vital to ensuring that this Long Night period is kept to a minimum. Furthermore, finding ways to make the most of what is now possible and using that in conjunction with what we once had is what I discuss often with the men and women in the evenings now. We're making plans on what to do about it, as literacy requires things to read and write- something we don't do much around here.

Living closer to the natural world has also restored a sense of rhythm to our lives that we had, at best, a tenuous tie to previously. Paying attention to the cycles of the world, knowing what to do when and where, demonstrated an inherent order to life that we did not appreciate much in the years before. To be fair, with all of the difficulties ahead of us, I am glad to be here and now and greatly appreciate all of it; leadership has forced me to become far greater than I was before, and though I've hardened considerably, I also know better the nature of strength and how it differs from power. So have all of us, even the children.

Clan Anderson, and Anderson Hold, will not endure forever. No man, and no creation of Man, has such power. However, it can last a long time, long enough to see the turning of ages, when we take the time now to build our foundations properly and ensure that our clan values preservation of lore as a tradition to be followed ferverently. If we are the new barbarians, then let us be as the real barbarians were- and be civilized peoples in our own right.

The New Barbarians-11

With the return of Spring, it became obvious that we of the Anderson Clan had irreversibly transformed ourselves into a form better adapted for this crazy world we're in now. Using our new awareness and abilities, and seeing off Ken and Jack, we set about securing anew our homestead and laying claim--as much as anyone can without using force--to the lands around us. You see, it's been two years since this cataclysm brought the world we knew to an end. If there was a government left, it would have reached us by now and the normalcy we knew restored to some degree. This did not happen; that government--and all of the institutions we knew--is now a ruin, a relic of an age now past, and as such only that which exists in nature will thrive.

Other changes came about as a result of the changed state of ourselves and our world. The women and children stopped gainsaying the men entirely, and the men stopped gainsaying me. In other words, I was now undisputed in my leadership. "Chief" acquired some heft that I, quite frankly, always wanted. That came in good stead when, as I knew was going to happen sooner or later, when the zeds came.

With the full muster of our clan's powers at hand, we met and destroyed that horde many miles away from our homestead. We froze them into place with driving sleet and shattered them with massive hail stones. The honored dead, for reasons I did not know at the time, guided our rifles and blessed our bullets. We would make such a display twice more before the Summer, after which we shifted towards concealment and forewarning. The shelter we made for the cars became part of a well-concealed forward post, with a bit of kit to make communication by someone unable to do so by themselves possible.

This marked our emergence, I guess, as The Anderson Clan. Two years of transformation from a band of survivors into a coherent social unit of our own, where everyone has a place and is at home, seems somehow right to my mind. I have seen strong bands of fellowship form faster than that, and last life-long thereafter, but those are always derived from time fighting a war with one's fellows.

I can only conclude, therefore, that we are now--and shall hereafter, for as long as any can foresee--be living in a state of regular warfare, if not perpetual, as the tribal nations of old did in many places in the world. Civilization is gone. We are the new barbarians.

The New Barbarians-10

I agreed to have Ken and Jack stay on, trading the trading of their skills and knowledge for lodging and protection over the Winter. I have to say that this was quite the experience. All of us, young and old alike, spent time with Jack and Ken. We were now in a state of mind, after all of the weirdness going on, that left us open to the idea of shamanism an answer to the inevitable issue of our technologies becoming unable to use due to power or other expendables running out. What happened, however, was not what I expected.

Sure, the guided shamanic journeys we took to encounter and become familiar with our ancestors took some getting used to. Unlike before, now these spirits could manifest physically so we need not rely on altered states and other methods that left reasonable doubt in place. No, we saw them; all of us, all at once. Look, sound, touch- all very real to us. We learned the truths of our pasts, truths left out of the histories, and we learned of the old gods and the past of contact with North America and all of that. It turned out that my choosing a longhouse design was no accident, but instead inspiration from an ancestor who also did so, and that was just one of the early revelations.

As for Ken, he told us more about the zeds, and of other emerging unnatural threats that he encountered--he dealt with a Japanese snow monster last Winter--and warned us of the common threat these things possessed: the ability to mimic living men and women, play on our natural affinities, and use them as a path to preying upon us. I didn't know at the time (but I should have), but he did carry on affairs with some of the women; his sons, in time, would be born and raised amongst us and in time transform into thing-eaters as he was.

The real breakthrough, however, was that some of our children came to the attention of certain spirits of the wind and water. These acquired some affinity with, and control over, those very natural elements. This was something new, something that neither Ken nor Jack had any experience with, so we had to work with it using what we knew. Because this was a mark of spiritual calling, as it were, we thought of it as a form of shamanism and proceeded accordingly. The secrets of the water spirits included healing and cleansing, something we needed; the secrets of the wind gave us ears we otherwise needed a radio for, and both of them had means of fighting by wielding wind or water as weapons- applied physics would find a new home here.

We didn't have much in the way of names for what we created over that Winter. All that we knew for certain was that we were now possessed with a supernatural connection of our own, and we would need it in the years to come when the fuels ran out, the cells ran dry, the ammunition was gone, and all of the associated technologies became so much useless junk.

The Reluctant Doomsayer-09

The game changed for the worse when I turned on the evening news to find that my lawyer had been gunned down in his office. There was nothing at all plausible about the scenario; his private security cameras captured the sudden assault on his office building by masked hitmen wielding fully-automatic rifles, killing the security detail on the way and then himself as they burst into his office. Only his secretary, who wasn't there at the time, remained; she found them upon returning with dinner. The office had been ransacked, and the hard drives taken from his computers, so they had a secondary objective of data retrieval.

In the days to follow, I confirmed that the targeted data involved all of my holdings kept in his care. That meant that I had to bug out; I would clearly be hit again. I let the word out to my audience across all of my platforms, and updated copies of my archives flooded the Internet as well as a few dead drops I'd cultivated. Expendables got moved into their bugout positions, and transferables got moved into position. My preparations in this event worked more or less as expected; the evening after everything was in place, I saw them coming.

This time it was a series of vans, in total disgorging 40 men. This was no team, or even a squad, but a full platoon of hired professional killers and I was still no match for such a threat. Fortunately, the building I inhabited I now had kitted out to defend in place. I cut all direct ties to the ground, and sent out a call for aid, with a single push of a pre-programmed panic button application. It would slow them down long enough to let me escape.

The false silhouettes in the lower floors drew out their sharpshooters, cut elevators and stairways forced them to hustle the hard way to get to the top floor, and the right kind of 911 robocall got the police to send out the SWAT team to an Active Shooter conducting a Home Invasion as fast as they could manage. As they began hitting my tripwires, slowing them further, the police arrived and the expected firefight broke out between the assassins and the police.

I got to the top floor, got my chute on, and made the jump as I previously planned. One of them spotted me and fired, and I got hit; I took a shot that--fortunately--went through and through. It entered from behind, passed just under my lungs, and out the side without damaging anything vital. It still hurt and it burned, but I'd be okay. I got to the stashed car, used the trauma kit in the car to stabilize myself, and slipped away in the chaos. I took none of the routes that I wrote down or otherwise mentioned to anyone; I used one I kept entirely in my head. If I was to be followed I would know right away; similarly, I lied about the bugout place's actual location, so I would know if somehow I'd been mind-fucked.

I switched cars thrice on the way. I left in a used runabout city car, swapped to a minivan to do most of the travelling, and then swapped to a pickup with four-wheel drive and no connectivity for the last leg. I drove into a camoflaged garage, closed up, and unloaded there before I went into my bugout chamber, cleared it, and secured it. I expected only one visitor, and he hadn't appeared yet.

Now locked down and secured in my holdout location, I checked on the world outside. The assassins lost men fighting the police, leading to them being tied to an unbelievable consortium of known fringe groups: white supremacists, Christian terrorists, outlaw bikers, Muslim terrorists, anti-government terrorists, drug cartel hitmen, and former Mobsters. Oh, and the government covert agents amongst them. The media flipped their collective and proverbial tables over this, when they weren't wondering how a blogger managed to set up such a defensive situation. As for those following my media presence, as soon as I put forth proof that I was indeed safe and secure in an undisclosed location, I then put forth a full and detailed accounting for my end of things; this got picked up by the media, which--mercifully--gave them the excuse needed to stop giving any attention to me and focus instead on the killers.

My wound began healing, but self-treatment remained slow, and it was during one of these management moments that my expected visitor showed up.

"Holed up, literally, aren't we?"

"Took you long enough, Mike." I said as I changed bandages.

"You didn't make it easy."

"The current term is 'operational security', and you didn't need to know. He did explain that concept to you, right?"

Michael snickered. "Clever, monkey."

I finished cleaning the wound. "You weren't around to play superhero. I figured I had to see to myself."

"So, you're far from cities and other people now. What's the plan?"

"Exclusively online for the rest of the mission." I said, "I can't explain how or why, but I've got the feeling that what's coming is going to hit really soon, so it's time to shift the focus from getting the word out to getting the audience to follow my example. As for what's after that, I'm operating on the assumption that I will be part of the remnant working to rebuild anew from the ashes of the scourged world before."

"Assuming that you don't die." Michael said.

"I won't know the day or the hour." I said, putting on a clean shirt, "I can't go on worrying about what's outside of my control. All I can do, barring external intervention, is go about my life pursing my goals as best I can."

"Well, I have a meeting with Him shortly. I'll see what I can do. You're a funny monkey. I'd like to keep you around a while longer."

"Gee, thanks, I guess." I said, and he was gone.

The Treasure of the Iron Range-12

“You expected otherwise?” Ken said as Gabriel walked into view from nowhere.

Gabriel approached, but Ken felt no fear. He tore off an ear and chewed on it.

“Oh no.” Gabriel said, “But you did surprise me with your earnest attitude. No whining, no moping, no ‘But I’ve got to do this boring old shit that I hate’ crap that I’m so used to sweeping away to get a monkey to do what I want.”

“Just needed a second opinion is all.” Ken said, cracking open the skull and getting at the brain, “Some super-powerful guy shows up out of nowhere, talks like something out of an old movie and has me wanting to screw over his buddy- and I’m supposed to just go with it? You’ll forgive me if I’m a wee bit skeptical.”

Gabriel clapped his hands and smiled. “It’s been a very, very long time since I found myself a monkey that finally got what’s going on.”

Ken finished chewing some brains. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Gabriel now got close to Ken. “Maybe the old man was right about your kind after all.”

“I figured that there was something you weren’t telling me about this.” Ken said, “That’s why I got that second opinion. Deeds don’t exist in vacuums, especially something that crosses streams like some dude using a European name and talking angels and demons wanting little old me to take on some ancient monster of a First Nations’ mythology. Once I got up to speed about this hunt you wanted me to do, I figured out that context.”

Gabriel took a seat across from Ken. “Go on. This should be amusing.”

Ken swallowed the eyes whole, one after the other. “I found it quite interesting that you’d send me against an ancient entity whose legendary prowess, and hunger, was so similar to my own. That’s when I recalled your words, that you still served loyally despite what you thought of Mankind, and put that together with something else I recalled from many years ago.”

“Which was?”

“The enemy can’t create, only imitate—only repurpose, rectify, remix—and therefore imitations can’t be better than the original.”

Gabriel nodded. “True, true. Go on.”

Ken finished the last of the soft bits, and now broke down the stripped skull into chip-sized bits. “I also recalled that you lot don’t reckon time as we do. ‘Wibbley-wobbley, timey-whimy’ as some of us call it, so I figured that the imitation and the original need not appear in the same place in linear time.”

“Go on. This is good.”

“This was a set-up alright, but not about me and the Necromancer. This is about the big picture, about long after I’m done here. I needed something that he had to complete myself, from your point of view.” Ken said, mixing the bone bits with some water and drinking it down, “And now, that’s done. By consuming Wendigo, I take on the curse and—because I’m the original—I fix it into a strong trait that makes myself into a subrrace that breeds true. I’m now, potentially, the father of a race of Men.”

Gabriel smiled, and took back his sword.

“Correct. Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“You’re still a dick, Gabby.”

The Treasure of the Iron Range-08

When the sun rose, and Ken awoke, he saw the “gift” still lay cradled in his arms: a sword, firm in its scabbard, just like out of the stained-glass windows of Old World temples. He got to his feet, and after he stretched himself out of his lingering slumber he took up that scabbard and drew that sword. In a tongue dead millennia before the Old World’s destruction, a tongue that Ken knew from studies done in his life before now, he read the inscription put into the sword’s cross-guard: “Cast in the Name of God, Ye Not Guilty.”

“An executioner’s sword.” Ken said, and it became clear now what Gabriel thought of him: a slayer, sanctioned by powers beyond mortal comprehension, of those deemed beyond redemption. As he examined the sword, he noticed another inscription—in an even more obscure tongue—on the blade itself. Ken eyed that inscription with great care, and then held the blade as far away from himself as he could before speaking that word. The blade erupted in flames, blue-white flames just like those that he saw destroy the Old World, and now Ken comprehended the matter fully: to destroy Wendigo utterly, he be consumed by the uttermost fire of Creation itself.

Ken extinguished the flames by a repeated utterance, and then put away the sword. Ken broke camp, such as it was, and then made his way back to the open pit mine. Unlike last time, Ken ambushed the patrols instead of evading them. He destroyed them faster than the leaders could react, and then he moved inward and cleaved his way through the corpse-laborers mindlessly hacking away with rusted pics. Then, when the leaders finally reacted he cleaved his way through the ad-hoc militia of dead men and made his way to those leaders- or, rather, leader. The other two he previously saw were not there.

Without effort he hacked apart that leader—first arms, then legs—and then beheaded the now-limbless corpse-man. He picked up the severed dead head and stared into its lifeless eyes.

“I’m in your digs, gankin’ your mans, and I’m gonna get your treasure. You think you can stop me? Come at me, bro.”

Then he tossed the head aloft and carved it in half before it hit the ground. If that didn’t get The Necromancer’s attention, then Ken had no idea what would. To be certain, Ken scoured that open site and destroyed every last undead thing that he found. He burned what he destroyed, incinerating them and reducing them to ash. Once satisfied that he utterly destroyed The Necromancer’s presence at this old open-pit mine, he walked away from the scourged site and let his senses guide him to the next site- and the one that he knows will be more dangerous to handle: the old underground mine that formerly was a historical preservation site during the waning days of the Old World.

Ken felt a malevolent presence. This was the place; now’s the time.

The Treasure of the Iron Range-07

“The Creator—God, if you prefer—intended for what you call ‘The Azure Flames’ (how poetic!) to be much less destructive than what it was. However, there are plenty of those who defy him-“

“Like you?”

“Oh no, monkey-boy, not at all.” Gabriel said, “While I don’t know why your kind has his favor, and I still think that you’re not worthy of that favor, I am still loyal and do as I am told.”

“This ought to be good.” Ken said, and he bit into another piece.

“As I said, God has his enemies. Your kind has words for them, and those monkeys that they swayed to their cause. These enemies are of my kind, and so work differently from what your minds can comprehend.”

“Fallen angels and demons,” Ken said, “and their human cultists, right?”

“You’ve been paying attention! Good monkey.” Gabriel said, and patted Ken on the head, “The other entities—the spirits that some of your kind deal with—are lesser than my kind, to put this into a context that monkey-brains can comprehend, so we are talking about the primal powers of Creation.”

Ken didn’t hear, smell or taste any lies from Gabriel, yet.

“The enemy had two groups of cultists, spread across a great many subsets. One was a rather ordinary group of power-obsessed individuals who loved like monkeys often love this world, the sort you so often slaughtered in great numbers in your old life. The other group, the older one, trafficked with—and congressed with—the enemy regularly for the sort of power that monkeys can otherwise only steal by guile or raw will.”

Ken nodded, watching Gabriel pace around him as he often stalked prey.

“The monkeys got out of hand, and when their big attempt to steal the power unleashed at God’s hands when—against my expectations—a critical mass of you monkeys actually proved to be as good as expected and thus proved yourselves ready for the next step that cascaded into ‘The Azure Flames’. What you’re seeing now is the cleaning of that great mess.”

“Interesting.” Ken said, “Let me guess: The Necromancer is meant to clean out the humans not sufficiently up to standards, and then I’m here to clean him out when he’s done?”

Gabriel clapped, slowly. “Very good! You’re one clever monkey, but that’s not quite all of it. Far beyond this place, and this time, there are others who have vital roles to play. Some of them will be villains, as your kind sees things, and some will be heroes. All I can say for you, specifically, is that you’ll never do your job by yourself; it’s too big and will take too long.”

Ken mulled over those words. “I thought so. Now, about Wendigo in particular.”

“Ah, yes.” Gabriel said, “The moment at hand. You reflect him. This is no accident, monkey. Yet he is beyond your might, and outside the plan.”

Gabriel dropped a blanket before Ken.

“Use this. Do your job.”

The Treasure of the Iron Range-06

Ken culled another zombie from The Necromancer’s uncounted horde of undead thralls, sneaking in under cover of darkness and ambushing a sentry lurching about its patrol of a dig site. After he dragged the lifeless corpse away, and then began consuming it, Ken also mulled over a plan. Ken knew that The Necromancer, whatever else that villain was, was not a fool; it was wise to presume that The Necromancer would be wary of Ken intervening.

Ken chewed on the flesh of his meal. Even now, The Necromancer’s presence—through his horde—felt palpable to him. That presence, if it focused itself upon Wendigo, would be more than he could handle. Somehow, Ken must separate his target from his enemy and keep them apart long enough to put Wendigo down for good. Then there was that ally of his enemy, the one whose very presence radiated power beyond mortal means, and yet did not seem so dissonant as his enemy.

What of this thing that allied itself to The Necromancer? Would he—it—intervene? If it did, what would it do and how would it do that? Why did it look like a young Christopher Walken from some Old World horror film? Ken tossed the now-meatless bone aside, and heard it hit something other than a tree, rock or dirt- and then felt that same eerie presence.

“You’re a curious monkey.”

Ken leapt to his feet. Out from the darkness he saw a man-like figure appear—approach—him.

“Would you prefer a more familiar form?”

The figure changed its shape, appearing as that now-dead actor, and now Ken remembered.

“Gabriel.” Ken said, “That is your name, isn’t it?”

“In your tongue, so that’s good enough.” Gabriel said.

Ken took in a deep breath, drawing in through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, flexing himself without thinking as if he prepared for a fight. He smelled stale incense barely masking a rot off of Gabriel.

“Your kind calls mine ‘angels’.” Gabriel said, “Yes, the monkey I look like mimicked me well, and I must say that inspiring your kind can be quite entertaining. The story, however, I made up.”

“You’re not here to chat over dinner.” Ken said.

“True.” Gabriel said, “I’m here because I caught your little trick the other day. The ‘see-through-another’s-eyes’ trick that you did I found very interesting. I had to know what new monkey came up with this stuff. I’ve been following you now for weeks.”

Ken gave Gabriel a disbelieving look.

“Time doesn’t work the same way for us as it does for you.”

“So,” Ken said as he assessed Gabriel’s body language, “if you’re watching me, then why talk to me now?”

“Because you’re about to do something rash and stupid, and—as much as I’d love to watch you do your monkey-thing and fail spectacularly—I have my orders.”

“Which are?”

“There’s more to what’s going on than you’ve figured out—that you could ever figure out—on your own.”

"Tell me."

The Vault Incident-12

“Here we go!”

Gale Wolf launched her drone fighters, and as they took wing she pitched over and dived upon the enemy airfield. Coming out of the sun, the enemy forces below couldn’t see their attackers clearly, making it impossible to hit them with ground fire. The drones targeted and destroyed the enemy’s aircraft on the ground, taking out any possibility of losing air supremacy, and Gale Wolf herself outright obliterated the airfield’s command-and-control infrastructure with a combination of missiles and well-aimed cannon fire. Within minutes, all resistance remaining consisted of enemy personnel using small arms and inherent powers- uselessly.

Roger, Alex and Alan 1 dropped from Gale Wolf as it made another pass to support her drones. The three of them glided down to the ground with the aid of backpack-mounted light-wings. As they neared the ground, Roger signaled to Alan 1, and on cue they threw down some hand grenades. That cleared the landing zone, and the three of them hit the ground running for the building wherein their quarry awaited them.

The trio breeched the building from the side, bypassing the enemy detail awaiting them at the door and catching them from behind. One grenade took them out, and a limpet mine used on the ceiling in a second-story room brought their target to them as she fell from the room above. Alex and Alan 1 dealt with the enemy handler and his henchmen, quickly overwhelming them with unexpected violence of action, while Roger bound their target and signaled for pick-up.

The three of them, quarry in hand, made for the rooftop where Gale Wolf met them. Once aboard, Gale Wolf made for home and recalled her drones. The enemy, completely unable to pursue, soon faded into irrelevance as it disappeared in the distance. Roger contacted the Council, and they made use of their executive privilege to recall Gale Wolf directly to the Inner City and the Council Tower. Once there, Roger took the prisoner to a top-security cell and locked her under Engineer’s Seal.

Roger waited until the Council was present before he began interrogation.

“Name.” Roger said, “Your real name.”

She didn’t answer.

“Fine. Have it your way.” Roger said, and he turned to Alex.

“Emile Tory, Imperial Intelligence.” Alex said, “You hold the rank of Major in the Imperial military, but your file is sealed due to your presence in the Imperial Cult- and, officially, due to being female.”

“We are well acquainted with Imperial hypocrisy.” Alan 1 said, as he entered the chamber.

“We know that you deal with the inhuman presence based out of the mid-Atlantic continent.” Roger said, “We also know that you are the one responsible for the entity that breached the Inner City, ostensibly in the Cult’s name.”

Emile looked up at Roger.

“One question, and your answer, determines how this ends: are you for the Cult or the Usurpers?”

Emile smiled and nodded submissively.

“That’s all I need to know. Council members, I recommend rectification.”

They agreed, unanimously. Within a year, Usurper agents got wiped out.

The Vault Incident-11

“Engineer,” Gale Wolf said, “I detect Imperial units ahead. They do not seem to have detected me yet.”

Roger looked at the sensors. “Gain altitude. Get us into the sun.”

Gale Wolf climbed high into the sky, attaining that superior position.

“Deploy drones.” Roger said, “I want eyes on that scene.”

Gale Wolf resolved and deployed a dozen drones, each one under its own cloak, and sent them forward. Their sensors reported back to Gale Wolf, and their streams fed directly to the bridge.

“Engineer,” Alex said, “there are too many Imperial units here to be just a cult operation.”

“I concur.” Alan 1 said, “That’s a forward base for staging prior to operations.”

Roger looked at the realtime streams. He saw an airbase, crude-but-functional, with Imperial army personnel and air assets—dropships, gunships, fighters, etc.—moving about. Then he input an application from his personal device into the datastream, and ran that data again; the Imperial assets and personnel appeared translucent and other figures appeared underneath.

“Look again.” Roger said, and he pushed the filtered stream to the other stations.

“That is not good.” Alan 1 said.

“Wait.” Alex said, “I’ve spotted our target.”

Alex locked on to her and pushed that to Roger and Alan 1. The three now watched as she met with an older man, apparently an Imperial Intelligence officer, but really an alien humanoid in disguise.

“Doesn’t she think to check?” Alex said.

“Cult tradecraft is weak in the face of its object of veneration.” Alan 1 said, “So long as cursory scans come up clean, she’d never think to question that her contact is what he claims to be. Remember that they have to avoid Stalkers just like we do.”

“But I don’t see any of the usual Imperial countermeasures.” Alex said.

Roger quickly confirmed that with a scan of the scene.

“Gale Wolf, time to target.” Roger said. “10 minutes, Engineer.”

“Battle stations. We’re going in hot. Send report to the Council.”

Klaxons went off, and weapons consoles heretofore powered down lit up.

“What?” Alex said.

“There is no way that a real Imperial base would lack countermeasures, and there is no way that a loyal cultist would fail to notice that fact when it’s before their eyes. This woman is not a cultist- she’s the Usurper agent.”

Alan 1 nodded, agreeing. “Objectives?”

“Tag and bag that agent. Get her handler if you can. Destroy everything else.”

“Acknowledged.” Alex, Alan 1 and Gale Wolf said.

“Combat preparations procedures underway.” Gale Wolf said, “Drone fighters will be ready.”

“Standard engagement procedures, Gale Wolf.” Roger said, “The others and I will deploy when ready.”

Alex looked at Roger, curious.

“Suppress air defenses to establish air supremacy.” Roger said, “Then channel resistance into a line of retreat that we want. We deploy as soon as supremacy is established.”

“By air drop.” Alan 1 said, “They’re expecting something bigger, so they won’t notice us until it’s too late.”

“Hit hard, hit fast, and then we get out.”

The Vault Incident-10

“Security constructs report that the suspect is not present.” Alex said.

“She wasn’t there for some time.” Roger said, “The cult’s leaders and top members are not stupid, and they too are often as perceptive as we are. She likely noticed that the neighbors’ behavior changed, and then saw signs of our presence affecting them, and slipped away before the constructs got in place.”

“You say that-“

“Yes, I have, on the receiving end. Slipped out of the Imperial Capital like that.”

“What now?”

“The constructs will follow procedure. Have their report forward to me immediately.”

“Is this why you sent Alan 1 to the yard? You know that we’re going to have to chase her down?”

“Not quite.” Roger said, “I know where she’s going, and I know that she’s not going to be alone if we don’t seize the initiative now.”

“Engineer,” Alan 1 said, “we are cleared to proceed.”

“Acknowledged.” Roger said, and both he and Alex beamed aboard a waiting airship directly to the bridge, where Alan 1 awaited them.

“Welcome aboard, Engineer.” Alan 1 said, “Course?”

Roger entered some figures into a wrist-mounted device. “Set course for this location, on that bearing, and under cloak as soon as we’re about to go beyond the Outer City.”

“Acknowledged, Engineer.” Alan 1 said.

“I don’t recognize this ship.” Alex said, “It’s not in the database.”

“Not at your level of clearance.” Roger said, “This is my own design, and it’s under Engineer Seal.”

“Aside from the Engineer, only the Council and myself know of it.” Alan 1 said, “Its visual similarity to Republic standard designs, combined with camouflage protocols, ensures secrecy while its deployed and not cloaked.”

“The Seal does the job while in its berth.” Roger said, quickly following.

“Does this ship have a name?” Alex said.

Roger smiled. “I am Gale Wolf,” the ship said, displaying a feminine persona, “and I am pleased to meet you, Alex.”

Roger and Alan 1 looked over at Alex. “Sorry.”

The Gale Wolf slowly weaved through the air traffic of the Outer City, heading east-southeast as it passed through the outer screens marking the City-State’s outer limits, and under cloak it quickly sped up to a cruising speed that made their personal lightjets feel slow.

“I get it now.” Alex said, her eyes wide with delight, “How else does she vary?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Roger said.

“Engineer,” Gale Wolf said, “incoming transmission from the Outer City.”

“To me.” Roger said, and he read it on his personal device.

“Well?” Alex said.

Roger frowned. “They weren’t fast enough. We’re going to have company.”

Alex looked to Alan 1, seeking a clue, but Alan 1 smiled at her.

“General Quarters.” Roger said, and Gale Wolf’s pleasant environment instantly shifted to one of a harsher, combat-ready warship. Unnecessary displays vanished, leaving utilitarian bare walls. The bridge condensed into the minimum space necessary for the three of them—two stations and Roger in a command chair—which they assumed.

“Ready, Engineer.”

The Vault Incident-09

Roger, with Alex and Alan 1 behind him, stood before the full Council of Masters at the heart of the Inner City. As holographic images of things and places appeared about them, Roger began his briefing.

“Masters, I have reason to believe that this incident originates from the occupied homeland of the Atlan people.” The hologram depicting the occupied island continent, far east of the Sky-Blue Republic, and others depicted the monstrous god-like being reigning over it as well as the many inhuman minions ruling in its name, administering it as a key hub in a multi-dimensional empire focused upon the slave trade.

“Due to the verified intelligence produced by Operation Buy Back, we are well aware of the occupiers’ capabilities and willingness to use those capabilities. We also know that they are as aware of the Empire as we are, and therefore are likely to see the Empire as a useful tool to employ against any target.”

The Council nodded in agreement. “Continue, Engineer.”

“Due to the Empire’s dogma, we believe that the Imperial cult that is officially denied by the Empire became sufficiently isolated to become vulnerable to infiltration by the occupiers. We are aware that the slavers have the means to fool conventional as well as unconventional detection of their true forms, especially since the Imperial cult lacks the Hounds otherwise commonplace in Imperial forces as well as friendly relations with the Sons of Ken. We hypothesize that the individual handling this operation is actually a minion of the occupiers of the Atlan homeland.”

“To what end?” a Councilmen said.

“To test our defenses, Master.” Roger said, “This signifies one thing for certain: the occupation is not only aware of us, but regards us as a viable threat and is now turning its attention towards destroying us. This operation is the first sign.”

“What of Operation Buy Back?” another said.

“I recommend a thorough audit to eliminate the possibility of corruption.”

“Is this incident concluded?” another said.

“No.” Roger said, and the holograms shifted to The Vault, “Cosmo 3 completed reorigination as I directed. Since completion, several attempts to pierce our barriers occurred at The Vault. Not only did they fail, but trace-back protocols automatically activated to seek out the origination of the attempts.”

Alex stepped forward. Another hologram shifted to a location in the Outer City.

“We traced the attempts to a well-concealed location in the Outer City. Records, verified in the last four hours, indicate that the location is the dwelling place of a woman originally encountered on the frontier where the Empire seeks to expand. She has no record of subversion, and otherwise is known to live quietly and aloof from everyday affairs.”

“Is this woman suspected of being an Imperial cultist?” a Councilman said.

“At the least, a cultist.” Alan 1 said, now stepping forward, “Possibly a minion in disguise. I’ve ordered a review of the woman’s interactions since settling in the Outer City.”

Roger took over. “We request sanction to proceed.”

“Granted.”

The Vault Incident-08

Cosmo 3 hovered well above The Vault, projecting a vast cone below that encompassed the whole of The Vault’s mass. It scanned The Vault, and then began systematic deresolution of its mass, layer by layer, bit by bit, while its satellites maintained combat patrols around the exterior maintaining a perimeter. Inside, Roger monitored progress from the bridge alongside Alan 1 and Alex.

“Engineer,” Alex said, “the Council is online.”

A trio of miniaturized heads, wearing cowls, appeared before them.

“Roger,” said one of them, “Alex briefed us on the situation.”

“Cosmo 3 is reorganizing The Vault as per instructions.” Roger said, “It just began the procedure, so anything anomalous has yet to manifest. What does the Council make of my assessment?”

“The Council, after conferring, agrees with the general assessment. We do not concur with the specific accusation towards the Empire, but we do concur that someone uses these entities as a cat’s paw against us.”

Alan 1 kept his attention on Cosmo 3’s progression. The first third of The Vault now derezzed, and the old system monitor nudged Roger. The Engineer shifted his attention accordingly.

“Hold, Council.” Roger said, “Something’s up.”

Out from the deresolving Vault raised a translucent entity, roaring and writhing. Cosmo 3’s satellites engaged it from maximum distance, quickly adapting their weapons systems to match frequencies with it, and once achieving resonant frequency they quickly ripped it apart and destroyed it in a most violent and brutal manner. Cosmo 3 continued its reorgination procedure while its satellites did their job, further deresolving The Vault and exposing the enemy’s hidden implantation of rooting protocols, creating a backdoor into The Vault.

“Suspicion confirmed, Council.” Roger said, “The enemy hacked The Vault and implemented a backdoor. It also had a guardian. Both have been destroyed.”

“This is not good.” The Councilman shook his head. “We still think that the Empire can’t be the party behind this operation, as this command of fundamental principles is known to be beyond Imperial capability.”

“We have no hostilities with any other body capable of executing this operation.” Alex said.

“Not entirely correct.” Alan 1 said, “There is one body, albeit one where our conflict is not openly hostile.”

“Who?” Alex said.

“Hold that question.” Roger said, “Council, I request an emergency closed session.”

The three Councilmen conferred amongst themselves briefly, and then nodded.

“Engineer,” Cosmo 3 said, “reorigination is past the point of effective enemy action. Resistance is now a non-factor.”

“Execute the new paradigm as I directed in the code.” Roger said, “Then report upon completion.” Then Roger turned to the Councilmen, “We three are on our way back. Cosmo 3 can take it from here.”

“Acknowledged. End of line.” The Councilmen’s holograms winked out of existence.

Alex turned to Roger. “Who?”

Roger beckoned Alex to follow. Alan 1 did likewise. As they reached the flight deck, and then took off in their personal lightjets, Alex pulled alongside Roger.

“You asked.” Roger said, “What do you know about Operation Buy-Back?”

“Them?”

“Exactly.”

The Vault Incident-07

Alex came Robert’s quarters aboard the mobile fortress.

“Constructs need no rest. Users do.” Robert said as she entered his quarters.

“Indulge my curiosity.” Alex said, ignoring him, “Do you think that we’re being played with by a hostile force?”

Robert lay in repose on a lounge. “Indeed.”

Alex began to follow-up, but Robert cut her off. “The hostiles are not dupes as such. They are as they appear, insofar as their aim and objective is as it appears to be.”

A faceless servant construct delivers food and drink to Robert, and then leaves.

“Then they are assisted by the true enemy?”

“You’re learning.” Robert said, sipping his drink, “Good. Why would a hostile actor want to use a third party?”

“To distract our attention, blaming their actions on another likely target while they move against us unopposed until it’s too late- that is why they would use a third party.”

Robert sat up. “Correct. Now, if the Vault is not the true threat then what is it?”

“If this is really an elaborate ruse to test our defenses, then the enemy actor must possess the means to act effectively against us in ways similar to our own.”

Robert smiled. “Go on.”

“Similar entities are akin to frequencies. They can easily fall into discord because they are too similar to easily harmonize, and in discord cause interference that we interpret as conflict.”

Robert’s smiled widened. “Good analysis.”

Just then Alan 1 entered. “I concur.”

“Imperial Intelligence?” Robert said, looking at the elder system monitor, “They have people with the means and the knowledge.”

“Are they not disavowed?” Alex said, curious.

“Yes, they are officially disavowed. However, they started their studies from the same base that we did and never got past the fact that the Old World’s understanding of the arts derives from old cults and religious practices. That atmosphere promotes a fanatical perspective, which the Empire exploits to this day to keep them within the fold despite being officially disavowed.”

“Personal experience?” Alex said.

“Alan 1 and I encountered this cult—and that is what it is—performing operations for the Empire more than a few times over the years. Their methods, by comparison, are primitive and they are far more reliant on rote learning without the fundamental mastery of the concepts. They are, for all of their power, not that much better than the Imperial Army’s grunts.”

“Men that use tools without knowing the how or the why behind their function.” Alan 1 said, “They might as well be guard constructs.”

“Are all of them lacking like that?” Alex said.

“No.” Robert said, standing up, “Their leaders and top operatives are far more dangerous because they do understand what they’re doing, to a significant—if lesser—degree.”

Just them, Cosmo 3 appeared in hologram form.

“Engineer,” Cosmo 3 said, “we are in position.”

“Engineer Robert Prime, authorization Gold Omega Diamond. Execute Reorigination Protocol on Quaratine Facility previously designated.”

“Acknowledged, Engineer. Please wait while performing operations.”

“The game’s afoot.”

The Vault Incident-06

Robert, Alex and Alan 1 arrived at the mobile fortress Purifier. The trio immediately went to the bridge, where the three of them met with the construct in command: Cosmo 3. Not a captain in the way that Outer World ships do, but rather an installed artificial persona and expert system, Cosmo 3—for all intents and purposes—is the ship. The other constructs that appear as crew are actually its many subroutines, all of which are utterly expendable; the same is true for its boats. Its passenger capacity is solely for the purpose of moving external populations, a capacity that it can reconfigure in and out of existence with dizzying speed, and right now that capacity is being moved out in favor of firepower.

In the bridge, Cosmo 3 appeared as a hologram to facilitate cooperation, taking the form of an imposing older man.

“Engineer,” Cosmo 3 said, “sensors report that the cocoon’s integrity is holding, but if the current pattern continues that will fail within one day.”

“Fortunately all useful subsystems in the vault are disabled.” Alan 1 said, “That is likely why the cocoon hasn’t broken yet.”

“Agreed.” Alex said, “So, what do we do?”

“The breech cannot be wholly sealed as it is. Even with the prisoner’s corpus destroyed, some portion of its essence remained. It was enough to activate the hidden circle. The situation is itself now at a near-catastrophic level.” Alan 1 said.

“I am authorizing a total, deep-level reformatting of the vault.” Robert said, “Nothing less will do, and nothing more is possible given what we have on hand. The Council monitors this situation, yes?”

“Correct.” Cosmo 3 said, “I feed the Council data in real time.”

“Is there anything we need to do before we’re close enough to begin the process?” Alex said.

“Standard procedure is to establish and maintain quarantine.” Cosmo 3 said, “Assets are on station doing just that. Nothing gets out, and nothing will suborn my assets.”

“Then we must be prepared for a non-standard response.” Robert said.

“What do you mean?” Alex said.

“To become effective in destroying an enemy, one first studies the target. Executing operations meant to test responses, tease out procedures and others compel the target to expose how he thinks and acts given this or that stimulus is how Engineers tailor our techniques to the flaws of our foes.”

“I concur.” Alan 1 said, after a long pause.

The Vault Incident-05

“My scans confirm that the prisoner left nothing corruptible behind.” Alan 1 said, “According to procedure, we should be able to lift the quarantine on the chamber as soon as the deep-level scans come up clear.”

“Good.” Robert said, “But that’s not why you called me into this office.”

“No.” Alan 1 continued to watch the scan progress, “I am curious as to your decision.”

“An entity of great power, but nonetheless subdued and imprisoned here, is one that’s been out of action for a very long time. I don’t believe that it was what it claimed to be.”

Alex entered the room. “Then what was it, Engineer?”

Robert glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll be better able to answer that question when the scans are complete.”

“Until then,” Alan 1 said, “I would like you to elaborate on your decisions previous.”

Robert sighed. “Entities that are powerful, arrogant, but still subdued and imprisoned mean that there is a serious disparity between the self-image and the reality of the entity’s actual capabilities. If the entity is as lacking as the pattern indicates then there is nothing gained by continued captivity, so elimination is the wisest response. If it isn’t, then its captivity is part of a larger plan, and that makes it wise to eliminate it. I could not be wrong either way.”

“Are you certain?” Alex said.

“The scan will prove it.” Robert said, “Just a few cycles more.”

The automated deep scan protocol completed, and a report appeared on a virtual screen before the three of them.

“It seems that your assessment is correct, Engineer.” Alan 1 said.

“I concur.” Alex said.

Robert looked at the the report data, and his eyes narrowed. Alex moved over by Alan 1, and she whispered into the older construct’s ears. “What is it with him?”

“Let him run his process.” Alan 1 said, whispering, “Engineers, like all users, are constructs of the Outer World originally.”

“I’ve been in the Outer City.” Alex said, still whispering.

“Yes.” Robert said, raising his voice, “You have. Both of you have. Therefore you should know enough to respect non-linear cognitive processes, especially from my brotherhood and I.”

Alan 1 looked over to Alex. Alex just shook her head.

Robert ran his hand over the virtual screen, rearranging the data from a stream of numerical data output into a symbolic form and converting the output into a visual mapping output of energy flows in and out of the prisoner cell-block. The data report flowed until it settled into place, forming a pattern that—at a glance—seemed like a clean map of the prison. A closer examination revealed a hint of dim points of superficial corruption, but arrayed in the pattern of a pentacle.

“DAMN!” Robert said, “Alan 1, everyone out- NOW!”

Alan 1 didn’t hesitate. The klaxon sounded, and all constructs immediately evacuated. Then they followed, sealing things off as they fled. When they arrived at the landing platform, Alan 1 handed Robert and Alex each a forearm-length rod. Then they ran, jumped off and as they fell they activated the rods. Personal lightjets resolved around them, and the trio launched high into the sky. As they flew away, the prison sealed itself in a solid cocoon.

“What’s wrong?” Alex said, pulling alongside Robert.

“It planted a summoning circle.” Robert said, “It used itself as the anchor for others to breech the barrier. Killing weakened the link, and the lockdown will buy us time.”

“For what?” Alex said.

“For a total reformat and re-installation.”

“That bad?” Alan 1 said, “Sending word then.”

The Vault Incident-04

Robert held his face stoic, but he knew that things had suddenly become far more dangerous. The legends of the Old World talked of many mighty monsters, supernatural slingers of sorcery and users of unnatural utilities long ago lost to myth and time. Since the Old World’s destruction, and then the Wars of the Damned, many of them returned and made the truth of their existence known too well. Robert knew this, as did all Engineers, and he knew that he—like many before him—were now facing a threat whose true capabilities were likely beyond what the legends reported. So, Robert responded as best he could.

“Really?” Robert said, “You’re late. The end of the world, and your revenge upon all and sundry, came and went centuries ago!”

The demon looked puzzled. “What nonsense is this?”

“You missed your opportunity for revenge.” Robert said, “A few centuries ago, the entire globe burned to ash in a world-wide wave of azure flames. You overslept your own appointment for the cataclysm! Have you somehow failed to take notice of all the ruins, the stark lack of population, the twin evidences of both a civilization whose wonders approached those of the very god you despise as well as the obvious utter extermination of said civilization? You must have, because you somehow think that it’s still at all relevant to the world as it is now.”

The demon stared at Robert, disbelieving.

“Go on,” Robert said, “you know I’m not lying. Suck it up, you overgrown undead godspawn. You messed it all up, and now you’re stuck in a world where you don’t belong at all anymore. This is our world now, free and clear. You and your kind have no claim to it any longer.”

The Nephalim roared, voicing its frustration.

“Impudence!” it said, “How dare you claim sovereignty over what is rightfully mine?!”

“Hardly.” Robert said, “What makes you think that you own where you are now? This place is entirely the creation of Man, exercising powers granted lawfully to us. You have no place here, so you shall be either expelled once we are prepared to do so.”

“FOOL!” the Nephalim said, “I can breach the barriers into this place whenever I choose! The power of my blood ties me to the secrets of all things, and so I can—and will—defeat all of your pathetic portal-protections at every turn.”

“Indeed.” Robert said, “I thought as much.”

Robert turned to Alex. “Remove this intruder.”

The Nephalim laughed, and then it took a closer look at Alex. It stopped laughing. Alex energized her chakram and moved on the Nephalim. It attempted to swat her, and she dodged it with ease. As Alex rushed it, Robert drew forth a rod from a sheath in a booth and activated a rifle from it; Robert fired upon the monster as Alex moved into position, and when at the right place she threw her chakram and slew the Nephalim.

The Vault Incident-03

Alan 1 brought up the video of the quarantine cell holding the prisoner. Robert stood there, stunned, as he beheld the image before him: a demon, a classic bat-winged giant-sized humanoid figure straight out of Old World mythology, with a hideous visage and a palpable sense of power emanating off of it.

“The entity is in our largest cell, formerly used for virulent hive-mind infectors prior to the most recent cycle of sanitization.” Alan 1 said, “You two and myself are the only authorized individuals here; not even the security constructs are allowed. This entity’s capacities are unknown, and I advised the Council that its capture seemed too easy.”

“I concurred.” Alex said, “I examined the records after the fact, and even that process seemed far more dangerous than ordinarily the case. I requested sealing them for the time being, and the Council agreed.”

“Do you claim that this entity is so dangerous that even knowledge of it, below a given threshold, is actively dangerous to the integrity of the system’s constructs and operations?” Robert said.

“Correct.” Alan and Alex said, in a creepy unison voice.

“Then I must interrogate immediately. I know where the cell is, so all I need is for everyone not vital to operations in that sector to be cleared out immediately.”

“Acknowledged.” Alan 1 said.

* * * * *
Robert and Alex transferred directly to the cellblock containing the prisoner.

“That’s your plan?” Alex said.

“The plan is deliberately kept simple.” Robert said, “It will not survive contact with the enemy, so it is not wise to spend more than a minimal amount of time or resources on it. Instead, it is wise to put down a large and diverse reserve and be prepared to improvise contingencies as needed. Problems are dynamic environments, and as conditions shift so do the best actions to deal with them, so that is why Engineers spend time mastering the skills necessary to do so effectively and efficiently. Once the matter is resolved, and the situation stabilized, that is the time to introduce conventional approaches.”
Robert and Alex arrived at the cell.

“Let me do the talking.” Robert said, “I need you to be the credible threat of immediate violence, and that’s best done when the threat is a silent one.”

“Acknowledged.” Alex said, “I concur with your general assessment.”

The door opened, and the demon’s aura of power washed over them immediately.

“Come in.” it said, “It’s lonely in here, and the master of the house isn’t a talkative one.”

Robert and Alex stepped inside. Alex put her chakram in hand and stood by the door while Robert approached, and saw that this demon was indeed a massive giant of a thing. Its wings had been shredded into useless appendages, and the ram-like horns about its skull likewise had been damaged into useless protrusions, but he felt its malice fill the room- this demon was by no means helpless.

“Identify.” Robert said.

“Nephalim, usurper.”