BuyMort: Smart Shopper: How I Became the Accidental Warlord of Arizona
Author: Damien Hanson; Joseph Phelps; Dames Handsome
Date: 2022-11-10 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Fiction; General; Media Tie-In; Science Fiction; Space Opera; GameLit; HaremLit
Description: The algorithms predicted that Nu-Earth would fall. That all Nu-Earth humans would soon be extinct. The algorithms didn't understand Tyson Dawes. After pacifying the old Earth underground military base and defeating the Sleem, Tyson Dawes and Silken Sands are flush with new items and morties. But the Dearth Conglomerate has been circling over them in Arizona, and they want his land. Which wouldn't be such a problem if the boss weren't such an incompetent and spoiled child. Bad business decisions, cronyistic impulses and an unrelenting invisible hand continue to hem in Tyson and his Nu-Earth ref
Publisher: LitForge Press

BuyMort: Smart Shopper

A BuyMort Novel

Joseph Phelps

Damien Hanson

A Sconnie Books Production

Copyright © 2022 Joseph Phelps, Damien Hanson

All rights reserved.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

For more information, address: damien@damienhansonbooks.com

FIRST EDITION

All rights reserved.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

We want to thank every arbitrary fee, every overcharge, every fine print item, advertising algorithm, and predatory firm in existence for the production of this story.

We couldn’t have done it without you!

I want to dedicate this book to all of our fans at Royal Road and ScribbleHub. Without you, this story would not be what it is today.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 – Day 4

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25 – Day 5

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40 – Day 6

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Prologue

My little corner of the world had gotten pretty strange after BuyMort took over. The market was everywhere, you couldn’t sneeze without getting an ad, and who could forget all of the monsters and nightmares flowing over the place.

And I’d lost my trailer too. Which sucked. I liked that old Airstream.

But 2 days later, things weren’t looking so bad. I’d found an old underground army base, defeated the Sleem within, and come out with a fair bit of morties for my troubles. I’d met a wonderfully hot alien snake lady named Molls, made friends with all the hobb mercenaries from BlueCleave, and even managed to patch up things with the ravens.

Things were looking up. And even though half the world was dead, we all were still living.

I’d gotten into a tussle with a giant Lobtis, and almost lost it all there, but hey, the power of friendship saved me in the end. I did somehow manage to upset the hot snake lady; that situation is getting complicated

A classic Tyson Dawes move if I do say so myself.

But that first week of BuyMort, it was something else. Barely an hour went by where I didn’t have something I had to do. Work became my life, because if I didn’t work, we all died.

And Mr. Sada, something about the end of the regular world had twisted him. Made him into a real jackass. Dude was doing less and less, hiding away in his bedroom high on whatever he could get his hands on. Being a real prick at times, acting out of fear and really messing up the apocalypse for the rest of us.

We’d had a hard talk about it, and now I was unofficial partner in our Silken Sands affiliate. A place destined to be a big important name someday if we could keep our asses in gear.

Selling spider silk, some classified bioweapon, and tons of lingerie could only bring you so far in the multiverse. But I had plans. Big plans. Plans that went well beyond the confines of our growing camp and stretched across all of existence to reach into some dusty wreck of a store called Teslak.

Those guys wanted BuyMort dead and were willing to give me assistance so long as I did the deed.

I was all in.

That outta catch you all up. Welcome to Book 2 on how I became a warlord. Last we’d left off, I’d just had my ass kicked by Sleem and that damn Lobtis, but my new buds and my dog Doofus had saved me. We’ll go ahead and pick up right after that.

Chapter 1

I slumped my shoulders, before pulling off the scraps of my anti-Sleem suit and tossing them on the floor. I was dirty as hell and I needed a shower.

Some anti-burn ointment would be nice as well.

I walked to the downstairs bathroom to take a shower. It was the same damn bathtub I had found Mr. Sada’s dead wife’s upper half stored in. In my mind the image remained, but thankfully there was no stain.

BuyMort had been thorough when it took her. It warped away every cell and wrapped them up for sale.

Rayna and Tollya followed me. Tollya took up a position outside where she could hear and guard, but not be part of the conversation. Rayna followed me directly into the bathroom, not at all shying away as I pulled the bottom half of my shredded anti-Sleem suit off and dropped it in the wastebasket.

My loaner jeans from Phyllis’ dead husband had been melted away, and I stepped into the shower in nothing but my starfish. It covered the important parts, and I just didn’t care if Rayna saw my ass or not.

Apparently, neither did she, because she leaned on the small counter in the bathroom as the water began to steam against my shoulders and neck.

“What happen?”

I groaned and leaned my forehead against the wall.

“I don’t fucking know, Rayna. I got trapped with a buncha Sleem. Can it wait?”

She shook her head. “No. Must know how many. What kind of threat.”

My eyes widened and I remembered her job. The job I had given her.

“Right. Yeah, sorry. There’s a lot of them, down there. A very large quantity.” I rolled my face on the wall to look at her. “You know that infestation on the news?”

Rayna scowled and shook her head. Tollya leaned in from the doorway. “I do.”

She shook her head and curled a lip. “Sada. Always watching TV.”

Then she looked to Rayna, and her demeanor changed back to serious. “Big infestation nearby. Category three at least.”

I pushed off the wall and let the water blast my scalp. “Yeah. That’s us. We have that hiding beneath our feet. Category three sounds serious enough to describe what I saw.”

Rayna’s scowl deepened. “Categories scale to breeding capability. How many orbs you see?”

“Dozens,” I answered immediately.

Rayna drew her breath in with a hiss. “You kill any?”

I ran my hands through my hair, scratching at my scalp in the hot water.

“Loads. Even got a big orange one when I sabotaged their ship. Gave me the MortBlock for their turf.”

Tollya hooted a laugh and raised a fist to her mouth.

“You bag orange orb?” The hobb stood tall in the doorway and thumped her chest with a fist, before raising her chin at me. “Respect. Sleem-slayer.”

Another chuckle pushed its way out of me, and I leaned back against the wall in the shower.

“Yeah, I’ll take that. I killed a lot of them. Didn’t get that wall of slime thing though. That one bothers me.”

I scowled as a thought crossed my mind.

“But there’s a lot of them left down there too. We’re going back in tomorrow, with much better equipment, and we’re clearing them out for good.”

Rayna nodded. “Clearing them out highest priority?” She turned to Tollya and shrugged as the other woman grumbled something to her. “Too dangerous. Shame, good morties if possible.”

That cut through the distraction of the shower, and I turned to blink at Rayna. “What’s good morties?”

“Tollya said if there’s that many, we should try to contain them. Make Sleem farm.”

I stood in the shower for a few seconds, letting the hot water run across my face while I thought about what she had just said. “Yeah alright, I’ll bite. What the hell is a Sleem farm?”

Rayna shook her head and crossed her arms. “Dangerous.”

She glared at Tollya, who shrugged and gave her a small smile in return.

“If you can contain Sleem, and feed them, they breed. Can’t help it. Can kill and sell them then. Regular income, always buyers for Sleem carcasses.”

“But dangerous because they’re Sleem, and they’ll do what Sleem do, I get it.” I shook my head and cut off the water.

I dripped for a few minutes, thinking about the possibility. That entire underground base was down there, full of Sleem we could use if we had the right resources.

“Rayna.” I spoke as I stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around my waist.

“Yes?” She didn’t move from her position at the counter.

“I got a good map of almost the entire complex. What would you need to do this right? With no danger.” I blinked up at her as I toweled off.

Rayna took a deep breath. “Boss, that . . .” Then her slate, pebbled eyebrows rose and she looked at Tollya outside.

“More hobbs, first. Equipment. Expensive equipment. To clear them is expensive. To contain them is more expensive. To get farm up and running is massive expense. Morties. Need plenty of morties. Millions.”

I nodded and scrubbed at my hair with the towel. “Can the spider ranch pay for it, in your experience?”

Tollya laughed, and Rayna puffed out her cheeks at the other woman. “Yes. Eventually, if market holds. Silk and the animals to weave it are stable demands, even on unstable worlds like this. But it’s a risk.”

The towel went back around my waist, and I walked past Tollya.

The exhaustion was starting to really make itself known, and I stifled a yawn, reaching for my anti-Sleem boots and helmet.

BuyMort had done a great job cleaning my boots, every bit of slime was gone from them. It had been really caked on too.

Thinking back to the fight with the Sleem made me wonder how much of that lake in the hangar my new MortBlock covered.

If Sleem remains were really worth farming, I would be stupid to ignore another natural resource right under my nose.

I stopped on the first step, holding a pair of light green boots and shotgun in one hand and a high tech, mirror surface helmet in the other, with a towel as my only clothing.

“Will you help me do it?” I asked Rayna, point blank. She handed me the partially dissolved grenade bag.

The hobb woman scowled. She looked at me, then glanced back at Tollya. “If we do it right. Hobbs not expendable.”

“Hobbs not expendable, damn right! I trust you Rayna.” I tucked the helmet under my arm and started swiping through my affiliate page. After transferring most of the rest of my personal morties to the security department, I swiped it closed and looked back at Rayna.

“I just dropped a couple million morties in your discretionary fund. That good to protect us through tonight? Maybe get started on tomorrow?”

Rayna swiped her own affiliate page up and blinked at the amount a few times before nodding. “Of course.”

I began trudging up the steps, and saw Doofus come to the top to check. He wagged his naked tail at me, now free of his anti-Sleem suit, and I grinned back up at him. “Hey Doof, good boy. You waited for me.”

Rayna called up after me. “I’d need to bring in more hobbs, more of the BlueCleave tribe.”

I turned at the top of the steps and looked back down at her. “Go for it. We can sustain more, right?”

“That’s the thing.” She crossed her arms. “Coming out of storage for this means giving up space. Can’t make them go back after the job is done. If they come out of storage, they live and work here.”

I nodded, getting the idea. Storage sounded like a fun place.

“I trust your judgement, and we’ll make it work. Bring as many as you think we need and can sustain. We try for containment, but clear ‘em if we have to. I need to sleep. We’ll go back in there tomorrow.”

She grunted and turned to speak with Tollya. Their voices faded behind me as I walked for the guest bedroom.

Doofus jingled faintly as he climbed the stairs beside me, and I turned to glance at his collar. He wore a strange device on it that I recognized as the sonic weapon from his suit.

Smart dog, going around armed. He got way more than anybody ever gave him credit for.

As we reached the top of the stairs and the open, inviting door to the guest bedroom, Mr. Sada’s voice rang out from the end of the hall.

“Tyson! You’re back, good! Can we talk a moment?” He had his employer voice on again.

“Be right there, Mr. Sada,” I called down to him.

Doofus looked at me and then turned to plod in the guest room. I heard him jump up onto the bed as I trudged down the hall to Mr. Sada’s room.

I set down my stuff on the end table in the hall, and swung his doors open fully. Hord was there, sitting in a chair looking out the window. He nodded at me as I entered, then glared at my wardrobe.

“Yes, Mr. Sada?” I repeated.

He looked up from his TV finally and took in my towel. “Shit so-.” He stopped, swallowed hard, and started again. “Shit, Tyson, almost said it again. Old habits die hard. What happened to your clothes?”

“Your secret basement tenants burned it all off when they tried to eat me,” I said, crossing my arms.

He blinked at me a few times. “Right. Hey, you’re welcome though. I paid to fund the whole expedition down there to rescue you.”

“Whole thing? Really? Generous. You paid for Molls’ clearly custom gear, and even for Doof’s suit and weapon?” My disbelief was clear in my voice.

He blinked a few more times, scowling. “Well, no. I got a bunch more ammunition for those hobbs you hang around with so much now.”

“It’s been a helluva day, Mr. Sada. Speaking of which, I really need to get some sleep. You mind if I crash in your guest bed again?” I wondered if I sounded as exhausted as I felt.

He shook his head. “No, man. Just . . . what happened? You look almost as bad as the day I took you in.”

I sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “Everybody and that question.” When I looked back at him, he was hanging on my words like he usually watched that TV.

“Look, I got separated, trapped, chased, and eventually really badly injured by the slime monsters you let take up shop in the basement. There’s a shitstorm of them, though significantly fewer now.”

He winced. “You killed some of them?”

“Mr. Sada,” I started. “I killed a lot of them. I even killed their leader, cause its MortBlock transferred to me.”

Then my eyebrows raised as I remembered the ship. “Which reminds me, your rent contract was never anything real. Good news though, they do have a ship, and it was in working order. Bad news, I sabotaged it because they’ve been using it to wreak havoc on the nearby area.”

I finished and uncrossed my arms, expecting Mr. Sada to collapse into one of his bizarre pro-Sleem rants. He just stared, at a loss for words.

So, I carried on.

“We’re going to go handle the rest of them tomorrow, once we get the funding from the spider farm.”

He nodded and his lips went tight. Still nothing. He just stood there looking uncomfortable for a moment before clearing his throat and then speaking.

“Tyson, why don’t you grab something to wear from my closet? It’s weird talking to you in a towel.”

I blinked and yawned, before shaking my head. “I’m grateful, Mr. Sada. Really, I appreciate that. But I just want to go to sleep. I’ll tell you all about my misadventure down below tomorrow, and happily raid your wardrobe at the same time.”

My former boss blew his cheeks out and shook his head with a shrug. He suddenly couldn’t wait to get rid of me.

It made me suspicious, that and the lack of whining. But to be frank, at that moment I just couldn’t care.

All I wanted was to sleep.

With a small wave, I turned to leave, and he happily went back to his TV.

Chapter 2 – Day 4

I yawned compulsively as I walked down the hall to the guest room, and by the time I got there, Doofus was already asleep. Leaving the light off, I just brushed my teeth and guzzled a bunch of water from the sink.

Couldn’t taste any chlorine, so I just trusted to the filter in the pool and drank my fill.

I curled into a ball in the blankets and was just about to fall asleep when my psychic phone went off.

Fuck.

I had rescued it, and my other pocket items, from the old pants when I put the anti-Sleem suit on and transferred them to my grenade bag.

Now I was kinda wishing I hadn’t. I reached blearily over the side of the bed, my hand clattering through crystalline grenades and unused magazine, clicking them into one another and earning me a dissatisfied groan from Doofus.

When I brought the phone out of the bottom of the bag to my face, I could see that it was Phyllis.

I had forgotten about Phyllis. And from experience I knew that forgetting about Phyllis was not something anyone wanted to do.

My face went red, and I nodded to the deity in my phone. It raised a single eyebrow at me and turned to connect us.

“Hi, Phil. I am so sorry,” I started, laying back in bed and holding the phone above me. Doofus raised his head to give me a thoroughly disgusted sigh, before flopping back onto the bed.

She frowned and shook her head. “Your girlfriend told me you were okay, and I went home.”

“She’s not my girlfriend and you know it.” I groaned.

Phyllis just nodded, watching her show on the other screen. I could hear it faintly, but it sounded like it was coming from her and not the suit. Then I saw the glowing nub sticking out of her ear and became a little concerned with how much she was integrating into this thing.

“You hurt her tonight, you know.”

Phyllis’ voice snapped me out of it, and I thought back to immediately after the Sleem’s lair.

“Yeah, Phil, I know.” I ran a hand through my hair and grimaced. “I dunno what to do, Phil. She’s great, and terrible at the same time. I just couldn’t deal with it all tonight.”

Phyllis frowned understandingly and nodded. She put a fresh joint between her lips and looked at me while her suit lit it for her with a tiny mechanical extension arm that followed her movement unfailingly.

“Oh, I understand. Been there myself, a long time ago. Young men are so easily offended, especially back in my day. But, well she wasn’t crying or anything, but . . .” She’d repeated the word but. That was a lot of finger-wagging, coming from her.

Phyllis raised her eyebrows at me and took a long inhale.

“Yeah, Phil. I get it.”

I shook my head while she held her breath, then spoke again as she let it out with a puff and filled the screen with smoke.

“I’m a little busy getting mutilated and nearly killed over and over for the campground, Phil. Molls can give me a second to breathe here and there.”

The old lady looked me in the eye, frowned again, and nodded.

“I’m glad you’re still with us, Tyson. And I forgive you for being rude to me.”

I smiled from one side of my mouth. “Thanks Phil. You’re the best, and you’re right. I should have checked in.”

My other hand went behind my head, and I finally started to relax as I got the pillow in just the right position.

“Shit, I coulda really used you down there. You’d have smoked ‘em all before they became a problem.”

She waved the joint at me, going back to her show. “Next time, dearie. Get some sleep, have a good night.”

Phyllis turned back and fixed me with her best glare.

“And make it right with that sweet girl. Heaven knows what she sees in you, but you should be nice to her.”

I smiled, wrinkling my nose. “Yes, mom.”

Phyllis choked, coughing out the smoke she had been inhaling. Her hand reached over to the screen and before she could turn it off, I heard her mutter something about having drowned me in the tub before I reached three, but then the psychic deity was back, staring at me.

I frowned at him. “Is that kind of thing ever awkward for you anymore? Or do you become numb to it?”

The face blinked, and his eyes left mine. They looked down. “There isn’t much I’m not numb to at this point.”

His eyes flicked back up to mine. “Still. Every so often I’m reminded what ‘surprise’ feels like.” Then he faded away and my shitty plastic phone went dark. I let it flop on the bed beside me and sighed.

Everything swirled in my head. The Sleem horde beneath us, the ravens and their mercenaries, Rayna’s hobbs and their needs, Mr. Sada acting shady, and the question of how I was going to pay for groceries the following day all raced through my head until a single thought drowned them all out.

Doofus had come for me in the dark.

We were family. Pack. He understood what it meant that I didn’t come back with the rest of them, he geared up, and he came for me.

Then another thought crossed my mind, right before I passed out. So had Molls.

I awoke in a blind panic only a few hours later, thrashing and causing Doofus to jump off the bed and bail out the open door. I heard his tags jingle as he descended the stairs and I glanced at the clock beside the bed.

Only four AM.

Shaking off the nightmare, I got up to pee before trying to go back to bed. I couldn’t remember it clearly; the nightmare had been just my mind reliving the awful shit in the basement.

After I got another sip of water from the sink, I exited the bathroom to get back in bed, and that’s when I saw the pod enter the room.

Silently, it slid into position beside the bed and dazzled me with the light from its rainbow beam.

A Sleem cube oozed forward, and the pod turned to leave. My eyes went wide, and I took in a deep breath.

It turned and burbled at me, then we moved at the same time. I dove for the bed, to get to my bag or falchion, and it dove for me.

The cube caught me as I landed on the bed and rapidly swallowed me whole. For what felt like the fiftieth time, I was engulfed by an aggressive Sleem. This time I had nothing to fight it with, and in my panic I just lunged for the bag again, as hard as I could.

Everything burned, but the Sleem actually moved. My arms erupted from it and grasped wildly for my bag, but the Sleem had moved. My eyes had squeezed shut the instant I had been engulfed, so I was blind and disoriented.

I latched onto the only thing I could feel, and the cube hauled in what I recognized as the bedside lamp with me.

In a blind instant of panic, I reached up and crushed the bulb in my hand. Everything lit up and I blacked out for less than a second.

I woke up as I was falling from Mr. Sada’s second story window encased in spicy Sleem sauce and couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

Thankfully, I landed in the pool. The water level was lower than it should be, but there was still a solid four or five feet, and the landing instantly helped ease the burning I felt all over my body.

I saw and felt the tendrils of my starfish reaching out from beneath my armor plating, working on repairing the burn damage. Sleem juice was sloughing off of my body and with a groan I realized that I had just contaminated our water supply.

Better check what that filter actually filtered out of the water before drinking any more of it.

While I climbed, spluttering, out of the pool. I noticed the mordren watching me from his shed. He was sitting up, leaned against a set of shelving, and Doofus was sitting happily at his side. Both of the mordren’s arms were wrapped, and he wore an inflatable cast fitted with braces on the hand I had crushed.

The hobb on guard duty stood up from his chair and started running over to help me out of the pool, but I climbed out on my own and raised a chin toward the mordren.

“He’s okay with the dog?” I asked.

The hobb, who’s name I didn’t know yet, nodded. “They good friends. No chance he hurt Doof.”

I nodded at him. “Okay, good. Stay here but watch out. There’s a Sleem cube here somewhere.”

The sliding glass doors behind me shattered, and everyone jumped, turning to look. The cube was sliding around the middle divider, oozing across the glass toward us.

The hobb at my side primed his rifle, but led with his Sleem Stick, which made me think he didn’t have the right ammunition for the fight.

Doofus stepped up on the cube’s side and barked. The cube splattered instantly, striking the mud-crete wall and creating a two-tone Jackson Pollock.

I wasn’t sure if that would kill it, but the mess didn’t start putting itself back together. It just made a series of wet plops as parts of it detached from the wall and fell into a growing puddle.

Doofus happily trotted over and struck a pose, pointing at the Sleem cube remains, then peeing all over them. He trotted walked back to the mordren in Mr. Sada’s shed, his head held high.

A pod zipped in over the wall and warped away all the dead Sleem glop, even getting the juice from the doorway and interior of the house.

I could see its beam flickering through the broken upstairs window I had recently crashed through. I smirked at it. Seemed like I was always smashing this window or that these days.

And my starfish suit liked it when that kind of thing happened. I always got damaged, but it always got charged more than enough to fix it.

The pod made one final pass over the pool and warped out the remaining Sleem sauce floating in the water, before it flew away over the wall. That made one less concern on my list and suggested an excellent tactic for cleaning small bodies of water.

Why bother filtering at all? Just ask BuyMort to buy everything in it except the hydrogen and oxygen, then guzzle down a mouthful of clean drinking water.

Rayna and Tollya arrived, running around the corner with weapons readied until they saw me dripping with broken glass everywhere. Tollya started laughing and Rayna shook her head.

I walked inside to find a towel to wrap around myself, being careful to only step through the broken glass using my metal covered heels. Rayna followed as Tollya turned to leave.

“Boss, need to talk,” she grunted.

I sighed and turned, nodding for her to continue while I searched through the towels for a larger bath sheet.

“Gotta go to Storage, boss. You and me. Have appointment with church logistics,” the hobb explained.

I frowned and wrapped the biggest towel I could find around my waist. “What’s the church got to do with this? We just need more hobbs from your tribe, right?”

“Not that simple. BlueCleave works for the church on Storage. Everyone does. Need permission to pull more out, we reach our limit.”

“And we need to meet with this ‘church logistics’ to get that permission, I assume,” I asked.

“Right,” she said. “Appointment soon, church paying for our BuyMort portals there and back.”

I nodded, trying to wrap my head around the whole thing. “Well, that’s nice of them. Why do I have to go, though?” I asked.

She sighed and shook her head. “Church needs highest ranked military member of hiring affiliate.”

“Oh crap, that’s me, isn’t it?” I asked nobody. Before Rayna could answer, I switched tracks. “Hey, where is Storage anyways?”

She shrugged. “Far.” The hobb woman left with that, walking out the broken glass doors.

Behind Rayna, the mordren was watching me and smiling from the side of his mouth that wasn’t wired shut. He looked like he’d been laughing.

I couldn’t blame any of them, really. With the starfish suit and my towel as my only remaining clothing, I must have looked a sight. And at least he seemed to be getting a bit friendlier. Plus, Doofus liked him, so I’d let him yuck it up as much as he wanted to.

In the downstairs bathroom, I found a terrycloth robe hanging on the back of the door. I grabbed it and a pair of fluffy slippers that almost fit me and headed back outside to try and talk to the mordren.

A stench hit me as I exited the building and I recoiled, bathrobe arm over my nostrils.

Was there another dream nightmare purchase lurking around here?

I looked around for something to fight with, found nothing, and clenched my firsts into hands.

I was ready.

Chapter 3

The smell was clearly rotting meat of some kind, but I couldn’t find a source.

All that was in the backyard was the discarded remains of BuyMort boxes and broken glass.

I stayed alert and kept going. As I approached the shed, the hobb on guard duty walked a short distance away, to lounge in one of the pool chairs and give us some privacy. Seeing her in such a relaxed if alert state made me relax as well.

The mordren watched him go, while slowly and carefully dragging his wrist across Doofus’s lower back. The dog appeared to be in heaven. He stretched out and licked his nose, before settling in place with a heavy sigh of contentment.

That was his ‘good scratchies’ position. He only did that one with good buds. The mordren turned his gaze on me as I approached, and despite my towel and friendly smile, his expression darkened.

“Hi,” I stupidly said. I even raised a hand. The mordren grunted and looked down at Doofus.

“This your dog?” His voice was stilted, as he spoke from the side of his mouth. The front had been wired shut to allow his welded bones time to heal.

I looked between him and Doofus and shook my head.

“No, he’s kind of his own dog. I named him, though. I love him like he is my dog, I’m just starting to understand he has more of a say in that than I thought before. He did lead a rescue mission for me though, to help me escape the Sleem dungeon under our feet.”

“Is that what that was? I could hear the roaring of that bug from here.” He concentrated on scratching Doofus just right and didn’t look at me as he spoke. “Too bad you made it.”

The laugh burst out before I could control it, and several more followed it. He stared at me and I let my smile drop, offering as straight and honest a face as I could muster.

“Sorry. I deserved that, didn’t I?”

The mordren shook his head. “If you died, I would have become Rayna’s problem. She would have sent me to Storage, at least.”

“What the fuck is Storage?” I whispered. Raising my voice, I said, “Never mind, I’ll find out soon enough. Just, what do you think I’m going to do?”

“Kill me and sell my corpse.” He shrugged, then winced. “I knew the risks, taking a mission with my credit score.”

“And you would rather I sent you to Storage, whatever that is?” I asked.

He scowled, then looked away. “No. I cannot afford anywhere else. So, Storage is where I would go.”

As he spoke a spider crawled over the mordren’s forehead and down across his long muzzle. He absently swiped the tip of his tail up to catch the arachnid, and calmly transferred it to the floor, where it crawled away into the pre-dawn shadows.

I shuddered. “Ugh, I am sorry about that. There’s probably a lot of them in there, huh?”

The mordren stared at me for a long moment before he blinked and looked away. “In truth, I do not mind them. To my eyes they are quite beautiful.”

Doofus grunted and pawed at his leg, and he smiled, crookedly. The dog sighed and stretched out again as the scratching resumed. He was using a broad, blunt scale edge to scratch Doofus’ favorite spot at the base of his spine, and the dog began licking his nose and thumping a foot as the mordren found just the right area.

I started to smile, but it faltered as I realized the mordren had started staring at me again. I blinked and met his eyes. “Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Drusk,” he grunted.

“Okay, thank you Drusk, I’m Tyson,” I said. He kept staring. “I wanted to apologize for your arm.”

Drusk’s eye narrowed. “Strange to apologize, but shouldn’t it be arms?”

“No,” I said. “I wrecked your first arm when you were trying to kill me. But I should have stopped before I tore your other arm out of its socket. That was uncalled for.”

Drusk nodded slowly, looking back at Doofus.

“Understood. You’re a strange human, Tyson. I imagine that you’re not going to kill me and sell my corpse, since you’re apologizing for crippling at least one of my limbs.”

I nodded.

“Yeah, no. Thing is, well, this is embarrassing, but I didn’t realize you were a person. I thought you were just some monster Dearth had unleashed on us.”

His snort made Doofus jump slightly, but the dog quickly settled back in and closed his eyes with a yawn.

“I was.”

I stepped back, so trained by Hollywood movies to expect an attack from such a small syllable statement that I was super surprised when it didn’t happen.

A small smile crept on my lips, and I nodded at him.

“Right. Well, I’m not going to kill you for morties, at least. I’ll be happy to let you go to Storage, or wherever else you want to. There may even be a place for you here, if you want it. We need a spider rancher of some sort, and you seem to like them.”

I shrugged when he glared up at me in surprise.

“Oh, and hey, you’re not a prisoner, I just don’t trust you because you hurt my friends.”

I paused, thinking through the things I should tell him. It felt like there should be a list of them, some holy tablets’ worth of words to say to him, but really, I’d just told him everything that he needed to hear. I opted for a regular old Tyson shrug.

“As I understand it, things can be incredibly impersonal under BuyMort, so I’m happy to go our separate ways if you want to get out of here. Just let me know how to help you get to Storage.”

I turned to leave, but his voice rose behind me.

“Wait. I can’t go to Storage like this. I wouldn’t survive my recovery there.”

When I turned to look at him, he was still defiant. His chin was raised, and he was looking at me through the narrowed slit of his remaining eye.

I nodded and smiled sadly.

“I understand. Do you have a family I can contact? Anyone who could arrange transport for you?”

Drusk shook his head.

“I hate to be rude, but I gotta ask. How are you going to survive with no way to make morties?” I winced as soon as I said it, but he didn’t react.

“There’s a breeding program I can sign up with. It will cover my costs at Storage, at the least. It’s possible to negotiate higher, but my situation is not favorable.”

His long tongue flickered behind his sharp teeth as he spoke in that halting manner, being careful not to apply too much pressure to the front of his wired-shut jaw.

“Wow, that sounds . . . actually I don’t know what that sounds like. Breeding program?” I cocked my head as I asked.

“Once I can no longer fight to earn morties, I can breed. Make more mordren, keep the path of the dragon alive.” He shrugged with a wince and looked away. “All I can do, now.”

“Right.” I flinched at what I was about to say but shook my head and went ahead with it. “Since we’re not taking things personally about the attack, I’m going to offer you a deal.”

Drusk’s eye narrowed again. “I’m listening.”

“If you behave, you can stay here and recover.” I swept a bathrobe covered arm to the shed.

“Yours as long as you want it, and I’ll do my very best to feed you too. Once you’re recovered enough, we can put you to work somehow and get you earning some morties.”

“Behave?” He grunted.

“Don’t hurt anyone. Don’t steal anything. Be polite to the hobbs, don’t be disruptive or super noisy. Normal stuff,” I answered, crossing my arms.

It was chilly in the dark. Dawn wouldn’t be for a few hours yet, and I had gotten barely any sleep. This whole thing needed to end so I could get dressed before Storage.

In front of me, Drusk curled a scaled lip and shook his head.

“Can’t hurt anyone.” He looked down at himself, his eyes wincing at what it saw, and he raised his only functional arm to show me the cast on his hand, bristling with braces. “Once I was a warrior. Now I am a joke.”

I fixed him with a glare. “Yes, you could.” When he didn’t immediately respond or react, I just stared at him and waited.

He met my eyes a couple of times before blinking and responding. “Yes, I could.”

“But you won’t, right?” I told him. It wasn’t a question, but I added a chance for him to respond as if it was anyway.

Drusk nodded and looked me in the eye. “Right.” Then he looked back down to Doofus snoring at his side. “Why help me?”

I shook my head and sighed. “Because I take responsibility for my actions where I can. Do you have any special dietary requirements?”

The mordren looked up and me and slowly shook his head. “Meat and root vegetables are good nutrition for my people.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Remember our deal.” I looked from him down to Doofus at his side. “I’m trusting you.”

Drusk stared at me while I turned and left. I was confident that Doofus was a good judge of character, so I was confident that the mordren would stay true to his word.

Drusk’s guard returned to the side of the shed as I left, and I nodded my thanks to the hobb.

“What’s your name?” I asked, stopping and turning to face him.

“Crasta,” he replied, giving me a salute.

“Make sure he’s comfortable, Crasta. And make yourself comfortable as well. Also, thanks for doing a good job.”

I turned and walked away, grinning silently to myself as the surprised guard thanked me from behind. Things were going to be different around here than the world I’d grown up in.

Less kowtow and more respect for each other.

So I hoped anyway. I walked slowly, watching a BuyMort pod come and collect all the broken glass in my way.

Rayna was waiting around the side of the building and nodded at me as I approached.

“Need your gear,” the hobb grunted at me. “We go first to church logistics, then down to Storage, meet with tribe. Organize departure.”

I nodded and diverted back in the house. Upstairs, my bag was where I left it, and I stole some clothes out of Mr. Sada’s closet while he snored. A nice silk button down with swirled brown marble designs, and a pair of loose, tan slacks. My Sleem Stompers completed the outfit, and I wore both swords on my hips.

When I went back outside, Rayna was waiting with a BuyMort pod at her side. It had opened a portal, and the rainbow beams of light reflected on the pool.

I hesitated at the portals edge. “Wait, how do these work? Am I gonna be ripped apart and put back together or what?”

Rayna chuckled and shook her head. “You walk through. Walk out other side. Is nothing.” She shrugged and walked through the rainbow beam, vanishing from sight. “Strange humans on Nu-Earth.”

I nodded, took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and walked into the light.

Chapter 4

Rainbows danced and dazzled my eyes through the lids, and I opened them to a completely new area. A BuyMort pod behind us whistled its ‘transaction complete’ tune and flew away down a narrow tunnel of glimmering white marble, run through with gold filigree. A solid looking metal door at the end of the tunnel slid closed behind it, and a whoosh sounded.

White marble and gold trim where everywhere, with ornate silver-backed furnishings spread out in a broad, airport concourse-style waiting area. I stopped and stared at the sight out the nearby floor-to-ceiling windows.

A great yellow star shined from beyond a massive orb of swirling green. We were in high orbit over a gas giant planet wreathed in glittering silver, like jewelry. The star behind it shined familiar, but foreign at the same time. It felt too close, almost looming.

Storage was constructed around the gas giant, surrounding it in shining segments of metal. Great arms of the partial Dyson sphere composed the repository for any sapient who couldn’t afford to play the game BuyMort hosted anymore.

The platforms looked so small from our position, but they housed quintillions of sapient life forms, and served as the primary cargo storage hub for all of BuyMort. The golden plaque on the window said so, in several languages.

Storage didn’t cover the gas giant entirely, as I had thought a Dyson sphere would. It merely caged it, with thousands of interlocking metal arms forming a nearly perfect sphere of metal around the swirling surface of the gas giant below.

“Boss!” Rayna’s voice called out from nearby. She pointed to her wrist, an apparently multiversal signal for checking the time. “Appointment, let’s go.”

I fell in behind her as we moved away, but still rubbernecked the entire place. We had arrived in one of the major transit areas on a church space station, where tunnels to outside the station’s bulkhead allowed pods to arrive and disembark as needed.

Travelers walked the concourse at our sides, in a variety of species and races. Church trappings were everywhere. Oversized gold statues lined the walkways, important figures in robes with serious expressions watching the travelers at their feet.

Great revolving banners and signs depicted the church’s priests, as well as higher office holders. I couldn’t understand most of the languages on the banners, but Nu-Earth English had already been worked in and a special message just for me scrolled by.

“The priests of BuyMort are on Nu-Earth to help!” it explained. “Trust their judgement and sign up for any opportunities they provide!” A smiling Orkreshi priest scrolled by after the words, eerily reminiscent of Garthrust, but without the scars.

I shuddered. What would have happened to us if we had sold out to him instead of fighting his forces off?

Rayna sighed and grabbed my wrist. “Boss, come. Not good to be late.”

I blinked and nodded, shaking out of it. She led me hurriedly out of the arrival concourse and through a series of broad, ornate hallways. Occasional viewports gave brief visions of Storage, encasing its gas giant below us.

It felt more like a high-end office structure than a space station. When we entered a specific wing of the station, our weapons were taken from us and stored in a secure locker behind a desk. Hobbs, orcs, humans, and Nah’Gh soldiers manned the station, wearing white and gold armored vests.

Once we had surrendered our weapons, we were allowed into their secured area. Rayna continued leading, clearly familiar with the route.

After a few more turns and hallways, Rayna stopped in front of a door, emblazoned with signage I couldn’t read. It slid open and we entered a small, hot paradise.

Lush greenery adorned the walls, floor, and ceiling, and the air was damp with warm fog. A great, blue-scaled Nah’gh raised his elderly head and acknowledged our arrival from behind his desk.

Thick carpets of gentle moss covered the floor, speckled with pleasant looking tiny flowers. They were comfortably springy under-foot. Greenery seemed to sprout from the walls and the over-sized office felt cozy, and close quartered.

The Nah’gh’s desk appeared grown from the surrounding floor, a chunk of living wood that had been artificially flattened, hardened, and shined on top.

“Welcome, faithful.” The Nah’gh croaked in a heavy accent. His age was apparent not only in the fading color of his scales, but his milky eyes and tired voice.

Rayna placed a hand to her chest and bowed stiffly. I nodded and smiled at the elderly Nah’gh. A series of pools behind him formed a small fountain, which tinkled pleasantly and puffed with warm fog.

“Elder Davoun,” Rayna said. “This Tyson Dawes, military commander of new affiliate.”

“Hi!” I said. I stepped forward and offered the Nah’gh my hand for a shake.

The snake blinked his milky eyes at me and smiled. “I am afraid I cannot shake your hand, Officer Dawes, but I appreciate the gesture. We speak English at this meeting for your benefit, perhaps that will showcase our welcome in the place of a handshake. Please, please, sit.” He gestured with his tail.

It was then that I noticed the Nah’gh had no arms. His thin, prehensile tail was busy with a pen at his desk, writing in golden ink on a black sheet of paper. Another coil of his tail held the page on the desk while he wrote.

The chairs were small lumps of shaped wood in front of the desk. Both were broad, without backs or sides, but with surprisingly comfortable cushions. Rayna and I sat down.

“We’ll be quick about this. I am unable to offer any further exit passes for tribe BlueCleave at this time,” Davoun said. “The pre-established limit has been reached, and in the sector your tribe holds, the church cannot afford a security lapse.”

“Yes, Elder. BlueCleave arrange for Tribe RedTeeth to take over our duties. Security will be same. BlueCleave loyal, would never betray the church’s trust by abandoning our post,” Rayna explained.

“I see . . .” Davoun said. His tail gently set the pen down and rubbed at one corner of his eye. “Tribe RedTeeth is not tribe BlueCleave. Are they even capable of holding the junction?”

“Yes, Elder. RedTeeth much bigger than BlueCleave, need space anyway. Come close to war more than once, only thing stop them is you.” Rayna opened her hands on the table. “We leave them our weapons. Our lands. Our deal with church. Tribe BlueCleave found new home.”

Davoun sat back in his chair at that, drawing in a sharp breath. “Are you telling me that you wish to annul the agreement between the church and tribe BlueCleave, Rayna? After all these generations? It has been centuries; your people have held the lower junction for the betterment of all.”

Rayna took a deep breath and nodded. “BlueCleave has found a home. We are leaving Storage, all of us.”

Davoun stared at the hobb woman across from him, and she met his eyes, holding his gaze. After a long moment, the elderly Nah’gh smiled wide and shook his head.

“You know, I could feel it, all those years ago when you took over. Something told me you were like her. Like your namesake.”

Rayna nodded. “You told me, when I became chief. I remember, Elder Davoun. Always remember.” The hobb woman bowed her head in respect.

The Nah’gh suddenly turned and faced me. “Officer Dawes, you will be required to sign off on the departure of Tribe BlueCleave from the service of the church of BuyMort,” he said officiously. “And to pay all associated fees, or course.”

I nodded.

His tone changed and he leaned forward across the desk. “Are you certain your affiliate can house and employ all the members of her tribe? This is not a light decision for Rayna or the people who rely on her judgement.”

I cleared my throat and nodded again, uncomfortably.

“Not immediately, but it sounds like there’s a transfer of lands and responsibilities that needs to happen here first anyway. We’re expanding and growing daily, I expect to require the entire tribe, yes. Within the next few days, if we’re being totally upfront.”

Davoun stared at me, his milky eyes narrowed. “I have never known a human that was not self-interested above all else. How can I trust your word?”

The conversation with Drusk about my personal responsibilities popped into my head. I sighed and shook my head.

“I am self-interested, and that’s why Rayna’s working for me in the first place. But I take care of my people.”

“And Tribe BlueCleave is your people?

“Yes,” I said immediately. “We’re building a life together in the Nu-Earth desert. I rely on Rayna, and on her people to help me build that life.”

“Very well.”

Davoul reached behind him with his tail, pushing aside ferns and fronds to expose a section of the original space station’s wall, which was rare in his office.

He spun a dial with the prehensile tail and the safe door creaked open. Davoun glanced behind him as his tail riffled through paperwork in the safe, before he nodded and pulled a single rolled up scroll from its place. His tail managed to hold onto the scroll, keep the foliage out of the way, and securely close the safe door all at once.

He opened the scroll and spread it, with a flick of his tail’s tip.

“Sign here.”

He pointed and then slid the gold ink pen across the table to me.

The paper was in a wholly foreign language. I couldn’t even recognize a single letter; they were blocky and pictographic in some cases. None of it meant anything to me.

I shook my head. “I don’t know what it says.”

“It okay Tyson. Sign. It say we work SilkSands now. Agree non-disclose of church, all job task terminated,” she said, shoulders slumped.

Davoun reached across the table and rested his tail on her hand. She nodded and smiled. “Are you certain, Rayna? It would be no small task to work your tribe back into Storage if this doesn’t work.”

Rayna squeezed his tail lightly, then took the pen from me and signed the black paper scroll. She set the pen back in my hand and pointed at the line below her name.

Finally, someone with worse handwriting than mine. I smiled at her and signed.

“Once the chief of tribe RedTeeth has signed, and this paper is back on my desk for processing, BlueCleave will be free to leave Storage in whatever time-table they see fit,” Davoun said, slowly rolling the scroll back up with his tail.

“Thank you, Elder Darvoun. For everything.” Rayna spoke quietly, reverent.

The old Nah’gh blinked a few times before responding. “Oh. Oh, I suppose this is goodbye,” he said. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

Rayna nodded, a large tear forming in her eye. She brushed it away and hardened her features.

“You have been good Elder. Honest. Fair, when possible. More than Smart Shopper. You Good Boss. I sad only to leave you, not Storage.”

Davoun shook his head.

“Don’t be, girl.”

His tail swiped a hanging wall of fronds away from the window to show Storage below us. He looked over his shoulder at the sparkling planet for a long moment before turning back to us.

“Storage is much kinder to some than it is to most. Don’t weep for me, I’ll be fine. Go, get your paperwork signed. One step closer to getting your people out of that place.” The old Nah’Gh reached his tail across the desk to Rayna. “Be careful.”

“Thank you,” Rayna said again. She took the scroll from his tail and stood, looking at me to join her. I did, rising from my seat and nodding politely at the old snake-man.

“Officer Dawes,” he said, stopping me in my tracks. I froze, halfway through turning to leave, and met his gaze. “Be worthy of them,” he said, eyes suddenly hard.

I blinked, nodded, and followed Rayna out of the room.

The space station was much cooler than Elder Davoun’s office had been, and the air was noticeably crisp. As soon as the door slid shut, Rayna sniffled and turned to stomp away down the hall. I followed at a close distance, giving her time for her to be emotional.

It was clear to me, in that moment, more than ever before, how important our arrangement was. She was silent when retrieving our weapons, and silent as we walked the halls of the church’s station.

We followed a trail of filigreed gold in the marble flooring back to the concourse and got in line for a departure spot. She had gathered herself, but kept her arms crossed and her gaze at the floor.

“Hey, Rayna,” I started, hesitant.

“Yeah boss?” She snapped to attention.

“It’s going to work out. Back at the campground, I mean,” I said.

“I know,” she said. “You learning. BlueCleave strong, will help. You man like Elder Davoun in some ways. Honest. Fair, when possible. Good Boss. That how I know it work out.”

Her words repeated in my mind as we waited for our turn to order a pod to storage. I was still thinking about it when we walked through another rainbow beam.

Chapter 5

The concourse was suddenly very different. The first thing I noticed was the cold. It wasn’t entirely cold, but it was downright chilly, especially for how crowded the space was. My breath puffed in a light fog in front of me as I stared around myself.

Everything was tainted in green light, as the gas giant now loomed through the portals. The same sense of a bustling crowd was present, but where the church orbital station had been tidy and orderly, this was frightening chaos.

Crowds of people were gathered around the exit and entrance stations, in a variety of rags, leather clothing, and what looked like chitinous shells being used as armor.

I was captured by the view out the grimy portals, the sight of Storage up close. We were atop a tower. At my level I could see several others spread throughout the nearby regions of the gas giant’s upper atmosphere.

What I had seen from a distance as a web around the planet was, in fact, made up of multiple levels. Each major portion of the sphere housed at least six, each the same size and shape, or at least seeming to be from this external view. Massive buoyancy arms jutted down into the planet’s swirling surface, keeping Storage aloft.

One nearby had failed at some point, and an entire portion of the shining, webbed construct had been pulled down into the planet. A great chunk of the silvery web was just missing, with some of the long metal arms torn free or just hanging limply into the gas below.

“Are you departing?!” A young, female voice sounded nearby, directed at us.

“Please tell me you’re departing,” she said, stepping in front of me. “Take me with you, I’ll do anything for a ticket.”

I got a good look at the source of the voice as she rushed toward me and saw just how young she was. Early teens, maybe sixteen at the oldest. She wore rags of clothing that had been torn in suggestive ways and smeared on, improvised makeup. Her eyeshadow looked like it might have been heavy engine grease at one point.

The girl was also filthy. She clutched at my hand and pulled it toward her narrow chest. “Anything, please, just take me with you,” she said, forcing a smile.

I snatched my hand back in horror as I realized her intent, and her features instantly changed. She didn’t become angry, or more desperate. She just no longer saw me at all.

The girl rushed off toward another nearby human man, repeating her original question, “Are you departing?”

Rayna tugged at my sleeve. “Come. Not far. Bad to stay in this place. Many thieves.”

The tower we were in consisted of two arrival and departure areas, this time without the tunnels for pods. The pods in storage were stationary, built up onto tall arms like light poles. Crowds of sapient beings clustered around each, moving constantly, and bumping into each other, like moths.

Few departed. Many arrived, some in clear panic or confusion.

Seeing I was just as disoriented as the new arrivals, Rayna took my hand and held it like she would a child’s. I could not stop staring out the windows. Other arrival towers were visible at regular intervals, vanishing into the distance. Each was different.

One had a series of massive letters painted on the inside of its windows with reflective paint. Obviously meant to be seen by our arrival platform. It read simply “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” in flickering red letters.

Another, further down the row, was coated in pulsing red slime. Any arrivals were immediately absorbed into a giant red block of Sleem. I imagine it also helped with sending out Sleem into the BuyMort system to answer nightmares.

Rayna saw me staring at it, horror written all over my face.

“Sleem take over. Now eat arrivals there.” She jabbed a finger into the window. “Remember tower symbol. Never go to that tower. Don’t be food, Tyson.”

We approached a central hole, surrounded by thin, painted BuyMort safety railings. A giant cargo elevator arrived as we approached, and crowds of people pushed against each other to get in and out at the same time.

Rayna led me to the side of the elevator, to a maintenance doorway that was permanently open. A hobb in chitin armor stood at the dark hole, clutching a thick metal rod, and staring hard at anyone who approached.

Rayna grunted something at him as we approached, and he nodded a single time, before returning to his overwatch. Rayna turned and climbed down the first rungs of a ladder, nodding at me to follow her.

I did, sliding into the dark at the side of the cargo elevator. After I had lowered myself a few rungs, I took a glance down and immediately regretted it. The drop was dizzying, well-lit at my level, and by appearances, without end. If I fell, I would have a long time to regret it, the bottom was covered in darkness.

“Come,” Rayna grunted at me.

I shook my head, tightened my grip on the ladder rungs, and followed her. The metal all around us was BuyMort blue, on a white background, and all of it was scratched and painted over in various alien languages.

As we climbed, the elevator rumbled down on us, massive and rapidly accelerating. There were other people in the shaft, on rungs of ladders on every side. As the elevator passed us, we all hugged in, and the shaped sides slid rapidly past with a roar of air.

One more level down, we climbed into a great open section of storage. It was at least a dozen football fields in length and had large entrances on each surface. A great rectangle filled with smaller rectangles. Storage containers, black with white doors, filled the room from floor to ceiling, thousands of rows of them tucked against the walls.

We climbed down into open air, only the ladder and thick rails at each corner of the shaft connecting the levels. BuyMort pods floated around the containers, doors sliding open and closed to allow them access. As we climbed down, I watched a small green creature climb up to one of the storage containers and rush inside when the door opened for a pod. It looked like one of Da Gobb’s construction goblins.

It did not emerge while we climbed lower. We had to hurry when we entered the center of the room, as the great cargo elevators that were built into Storage traveled horizontally as well as vertically. Rayna informed me that if one passed while I was in the center of the ladders, the wind would likely be strong enough to pull me loose.

Rayna kept an eye on the lowest part of that level as we approached. It was an open area, painted with BuyMort warnings around the elevator shaft, and as we approached, I noticed two more hobb toughs, in chitin armor with thick metal rods. These had red fangs drawn on their angular helmets.

They grunted a greeting in their own language, which Rayna reciprocated. Both hobbs stared at me as I followed, and we descended further into the depths of Storage.

The next level down I heard well before I saw. It was filled with the quiet roar of a bustling city. There were even vehicle horns and shouting, in what sounded like several languages.

Cooking smells filled the air next, followed by an undercurrent of garbage, and sweat. Warmth rose up to us from below, and the pervasive chill in the air eased a bit. A city sprawled below our feet, and the moment we reached the top of the shaft, a board extended to hook onto the ladder.

Rayna twirled easily around the ladder, planted her feet on the board and nodded at another hobb. I carefully worked my way around the ladder, trying not to fall, as Rayna and the hobb grunted at one another in their own language.

I managed the gangplank, walking carefully without looking down. Thankfully, it was a slab of thin but dense metal, and didn’t wobble or shake at all.

The new hobb stuck an arm out and blocked my path, as he continued talking with Rayna. I took a calming breath, steadying my balance and doing my very best not to look down.

After a few seconds of conversation in their own language, the hobb let me through and I quickly stepped onto the ledge, grabbing at the metal handrail.

A city, filled with life, sprawled out below me. In staggered rows, habitation units that closely resembled the storage units were stacked.

We stood at the very top of the massive area, which spread out in either direction to gloomy looking walls at both sides. Dingy bay windows were open on the sides of the ceiling, to provide sunlight and a view of the gas giant.

A central path was carved through the city, to make way for the cargo elevators. But several other paths existed as well, both BuyMort produced and resident customized. Small vehicles rode on some, carrying cargo or passengers.

Clothing hung from lines all across the container vessel city, like flags in the breeze. Most of the people below appeared to be hobbs, and it quickly became evident who the haves and have nots were.

Hobbs in armor guarded storefronts, BuyMort supply stations, and every single garden in sight, no matter how small. Each bore the red fangs on their helmets and treated each passerby in the crowds with suspicion.

I recognized some of the people I saw below, and definitely did not recognize others. Tribe RedTeeth was clearly in charge, a point brought home to me by a heavy shove from behind.

“We go, Tyson. Meet with RedTeeth leadership,” Rayna said, waving at me from the end of our walkway. Several armored and metal bar-armed hobbs stared at me from a nearby armored habitation unit they used as a bunker to defend against entry from the ladder.

Chapter 6

A quick glance below confirmed that each level the ladder touched had a bunker full of RedTeeth hobbs.

I smiled at the hobb who had shoved me, blew him a kiss, and followed Rayna. The hobb’s eyes narrowed, but he merely shook his head and turned to retrieve the gangplank to the ladder.

Rayna followed a troop of armed hobbs, and I fell into close step behind her, as another troop pressed up close behind me. They each wore hard looking brown chitin armor and carried heavy batons that looked to have been made from ladder rungs.

I tried to see more of the thriving favela below us, but we were quickly escorted to an even heavier armored habitation unit. One of the largest I’d seen so far, and heavily customized.

Broken, torn, and scorched BuyMort wall plating bits formed up a defensive structure at the outside entrance to the compound. Downward facing metal spikes were all painted red, and upward facing spikes were decorated with heads.

Most of them were hobb, but a few humans, and even a desiccated Mordren head adorned the scrap walls. Rayna didn’t blink as we passed through the gate.

Inside the gates was a little nicer, with more clothing hung on lines, but it was still a very martial environment. Every hobb was armed, even those not wearing armor. These ones carried guns and long spears tipped with jagged BuyMort metal fragments.

More RedTeeth hobbs gathered around, and our escort was dispersed. They turned and left through the main gate after saluting our new guards, all of whom were armed with heavy black rifles with steaming barrels.

“Don’t reach for weapons, boss,” Rayna suggested as the new troop formed up. “I know the chief, his hobbs this close to leader not stupid. But still.”

“Don’t reach for my weapons, yeah. I got that,” I replied, staring at the surrounding guards.

We were escorted through the compound, past several shelter units to one covered in chitinous shells and hanging red-painted fangs on leather strips.

A deep voice rumbled from within, “Rayna!”

Another series of loudly shouted words in the hobb language emitted from the doorway, and the surrounding hobbs all began laughing in guttural voices.

Rayna shook her head but laughed along with them. She turned to me and explained, “RedTeeth chief say he thought he smelled grassland hobb ass.”

She shouted back a line in their language that stopped the laughter entirely, and all the gathered hobbs turned to look at the empty doorway.

Rayna whispered over her shoulder with a wry smile, “I tell him check his wives’ fingers. Might explain smell.”

A tall, muscular hobb with a potbelly emerged from inside, wearing only thick leather pants and carrying a massive scrap-axe in one hand. He froze in the doorway and stared hard at Rayna, thin lips pressed into a line.

Then he burst into laughter, and threw his arms open wide, tossing aside the axe. Rayna shouldered out of her rifle and handed it to me, before stepping into the bearhug.

She slapped his back, hard, and then pushed out of the hug. The taller, male hobb nodded and suddenly noticed the crowd. He barked a few words at them, and the hobbs all laughed and began dispersing.

It was still a military camp, at the top of a bustling slum, but it felt homey, once all the hobbs were relaxed again.

The tall hobb nodded his chin at me and said a few words to Rayna in their language.

“He ask if you’re my new mate,” she told me. Then she shook her head and said a few words in hobb. He smiled wide and swept an arm toward his shelter unit.

“I tell him you new boss. Need talk about land. This going to make him very happy, he want this for long time,” she explained.

We entered the chief’s habitation unit. The interior walls were insulated with thick, black jelly, and it was much warmer inside than out. A small fire was in the open-doored oven at the back of the unit, a BuyMort fan running heavily to excise the smoke.

The inside was spacious, about as wide as a cargo container, but with hallways leading off the sides to two other rooms the same size. I saw female hobbs in one, and a pile of weaponry in the other as we passed the doorways by, and our host pointed to thin metal chairs near the fire.

We stepped past BuyMort standard countertops and accessories that had been made over. Skins adorned metal furnishings and covered the floor. As I stepped off from one, eight tiny holes in the rounded fur’s top told me it was from a massive spider.

Rayna and I sat down in the chairs, and our host sat in one across from us. He grunted several words in their language at Rayna, who replied in kind.

The other hobb stood immediately, eyes wide. He shook his head and pointed a finger at Rayna, before speaking again.

Rayna shook her head and spoke back. The male hobb stepped hurriedly past me, moved to the side room, and barked a few loud words in hobb. A make-shift door was quickly shoved into place, blocking the two rooms.

While he was working on that, Rayna translated for me. “His name Fordar. Tribe RedTeeth chief. Asked what we want. I told him it time for RedTeeth to take over for BlueCleave.”

I glanced back at our host as Fordar secured the front door. “He seems excited by the prospect.”

Rayna snorted and nodded. “Yes. Tried to start war for our land four years ago. Church stop him. He lose face. Getting land now big win, in many ways.”

Fordar returned to his seat, before he and Rayna began to talk. At one point, he turned and looked at me, and Rayna waved a hand my direction as she spoke. Most of the time he was focused entirely on her. At the end of the one-sided conversation, Fordar grinned wide and nodded. He thrust out a hand to Rayna, and she clasped him by the wrist.

Fordar stood, and stretched, a wide smile on his broad, grey features. He left the room, moving into his armory while muttering happily to himself. Rayna rolled her eyes and turned to me.

“I explain our new job. New home. Leaving Storage, whole tribe over the next few days. He must choose a few hundred of his most trusted hobbs to replace us, we guard special place for church,” she explained.

“This good for his people. RedTeeth city crowded, only have one residential block. BlueCleave own two open block, those much more valuable. Now we leave, they can expand. Ease pressure here.”

Fordar returned, shouldering into a heavy leather coat. It draped down to his ankles and had thick fur lining on the inside. He was already wearing a long-sleeved leather tunic.

Rayna nodded and stood. “Come. We show him defenses. Chief needs know how to defend land for church.”

“Rayna, how does ownership work in here? Are there MortBlocks still?” I asked as we left the room.

“No. No MortBlocks in Storage. All lands held by force,” she replied. “Special place. Made by BuyMort before time. Church say it show BuyMort grace.”

Fordar called out several names as we exited his shelter, and several hobbs came running, each heavily armed and armored. When we left through the main gates, we were surrounded by an escort of half a dozen mean-looking hobbs.

Our new guide led at a rapid pace, and we walked down a few levels of the city. People were everywhere, crammed into alleyways between domicile units, and sitting on staircases to be shoved aside by our escort.

I tried to see more of the city, but it was a towering wall of distant domicile units on the far end, and a rush of dingy metal walls and dirty people.

We walked only a few levels and took a long-bodied bus vehicle down sloping paths to the bottom level. The distant windows looked much smaller from down there, and in the shadows of nearby domicile blocks, eyes shined from the darkness, watching our group.

Our hobbs watched them back, clubs and slag-rifles at the ready. The living quarters at the bottom were dingy, and most were damaged. Still, hobbs and other people went about their lives, most of them ignoring us as we walked to the primary elevator shaft.

It had stopped and let off some people, and then waited for us. It seemed strange, so I leaned to Rayna and whispered, “How do the elevators work in here? You guys control them, not BuyMort?”

“Church control most of doors and elevators in Storage. Authorized users contact church control,” she pointed up, back toward the space station we had recently left. “Then church workers do as we ask, if we allowed to ask it.”

Fordar said a few words into a communication device on the elevator panel, and after a few seconds the doors slid closed.

I shuddered as I thought of the sheer amount of control the church held over this place. If they controlled the doors, they could vent the entire place into space on a whim.

“Oh,” Rayna said, eyes narrowed at me. “Don’t break stuff here. BuyMort send bugs if you do. Big hassle.”

“But back there, at his home, there were open fires in what used to be ovens. I could see the latches where the door was torn off,” I said, blinking in confusion.

The collapsed section of the Dyson Sphere sprang to my mind. “Does BuyMort not repair Storage?”

Rayna shook her head. “No, just send bugs. Church own Storage, technically, so church expected to perform upkeep for sapients living here.”

“And they don’t,” I finished for her.

Rayna nodded.

“Don’t think they know how.”

The other hobbs in the elevator tried their best to pretend they weren’t listening to our whispered conversation and trying to understand the foreign language.

I looked around at it all, the inconceivably advanced alien technology that was almost certainly billions of years old and yet still functioning.

I doubted anyone alive now would have the faintest inkling of how to repair such an amazing singularity of technological knowhow.

And if they did, I doubted they’d want to foot the bill.

“BuyMort ensure life sustaining conditions exist in Storage, but that it. Church supposed to do rest. They do some. Not much,” she grunted, waving a dismissive hand.

Through the windows, we passed through another item storage room, where containers stacked floor to ceiling in the cavernous area, and BuyMort pods floated between them.

Our elevator didn’t slow, and we passed the container segment quickly.

I found myself holding my breath, wondering what weird alien wonder I was going to witness next.

Chapter 7

The next section was green. Vibrant greenery was everywhere. It looked like the massive room had once been another habitation segment of Storage, but the vast majority of the domicile units had been destroyed.

Great racks of twisted metal and collapsed housing structures covered in grasses were visible, rushing up at us while our elevator descended. A handful were intact, and more had been scrabbled together from scraps of metal and chitin.

Grassland hobbs suddenly made sense, as I saw grey-skinned bodies moving en masse below. The grass itself was still a mystery, given the metal flooring everywhere else.

Hundreds of tiny figures scrambled into position around the elevator’s shaft as we descended. Rayna moved up to the front of the group and waited for the door to open.

When the dingy BuyMort painted doors slid open, all that could be seen was tall, sharp bladed grasses in a perfect circle around the elevator shaft. The RedTeeth hobbs clustered in front of their leader and gripped their weapons tight.

Rayna stepped out of the elevator and shouted a few words in the hobb language, before shouting her own name.

The wall of grasses in front of us lifted and was shuffled to the side. As it turned, I saw it was a clever shield made from overlapping plates of BuyMort scrap metal and camouflaged with fresh cut foliage. There were spears set into murder-holes in the shield wall, to jut from the grasses on the front unexpectedly.

Hobbs in more rags and various forms of scrap armor appeared behind the defensive wall and the call of Rayna’s name passed through the gathered tribe.

A horn sounded, and dozens of armed hobbs in scrap-metal armor stepped out from staggered sets of metal and grass covers. They eyed the RedTeeth hobbs, and kept their weapons close, but the threat of immediate violence seemed to have passed.

Rayna returned to my side with a tall, familiar looking hobb woman in tow.

“This Scollya, Tollya sister. She show you BlueCleave home, I must talk to tribe elders with Fordar,” Rayna explained.

I nodded and smiled, as Scollya stepped in close to my side and smiled back. She was wearing ragged clothing, patched with what looked like spider leather, it was the same color and texture as Fordar’s giant throw rug.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I responded. “I’m Tyson.”

“Oh . . . ah . . . hello,” she said again, her features screwed up in consternation.

“Not much English yet?” I asked.

She nodded and waved her hands. “Little bit, yes.”

I nodded back and turned to look at the massive, open space. Windows near the top shined a mixture of green and yellow light into the chamber, most of them much cleaner than in other sections.

The ground underfoot felt like ground. Earth, with grasses growing on and in it. I whipped my head around and looked at the elevator shaft. It was lower than my footing by a small amount.

I dug a hand down into the grasses and pulled up some dark loam. It even smelled like rich earth.

Scollya stared at me, her head cocked to the side. “You, come. Show you BlueCleave home,” she said.

“Right,” I said, absently. “Where do you get the dirt?” I asked, showing her my own handful of earth.

“Durt,” she repeated, staring at my hand. Scollya pointed at the soft loam in my hand and then looked at my face. “Durt?” She asked.

“Yes, dirt,” I said. I nodded, smiled, and put the handful of loam back where I had found it. However they populated this place with enough earth to grow plants in, the entire segment of Storage was covered in it.

Scollya seemed happy with me for putting the dirt back, and quickly grabbed my hand to take me on my tour. We diverted from the main group of other hobbs and headed toward a series of hills in the nearby distance.

Tribe BlueCleave lived well, if less civilized than the bustling city above us. There were hobb children wielding long blades of grass as toy swords, dueling and opening small cuts on one another while giggling and ignoring the stinging pain. Adults wielding scrap metal spears were common, staged at regular intervals to keep an eye on their visitors.

The first hill we approached was merely an accumulation of the imported earth, with crops growing on it. Another nearby hill had a fenced in population of pig sized isopods, wallowing in a shallow pond and rolling up to avoid combat with one another.

All the wealth of tribe BlueCleave had clearly gone back into their people. They were better fed than the hobbs up above, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Land. Real, valuable land, had to come at a high price in Storage.

Behind the structured hills, we approached a series of intact BuyMort domiciles, much akin to those I had already seen, but up on stilts. Every home appeared to be either on intentionally constructed stilts, or simply still on intact BuyMort scaffolding.

What had looked from above like an abandoned ruin of a Storage segment was in fact a small paradise.

Scollya walked me toward the domicile units, pointing at each of them and smiling. We exchanged the words as we went. I soon felt certain that I could accurately say the word for home, house, or shelter in hobb.

All said, there was enough living space for a couple of hundred families, some of whom were gathered around a stationary BuyMort pod tower.

As I watched, one of them raised a handmade metal bowl to the pod and it produced a stream of brackish green, thick liquid into the bowl. Like a moldy porridge.

“Scollya,” I said. She smiled and stared at me eagerly, awaiting my impossible question.

I struggled with what I wanted to ask for a moment, before I gave up and pointed down at the pod station. “Food?” I asked, rubbing my stomach. When her oversized eyes narrowed at my actions, I mimed raising a spoon to my mouth and repeated the word.

“Ah! Foot?” she asked. Then she grunted a word in their language I couldn’t quite make out and started leading the way.

A small group of armed hobb men had gathered near the pod station for a meal, and Scollya approached them with a happy sounding greeting in their own language. She asked a question in hobb, then smiled, tucked her hair behind one ear, and snatched an empty bowl from the lap of another nearby hobb.

The young male jumped and spread his arms, but Scollya stopped pursuit with a flirtatious glance over her shoulder and a giggle. He said a few affectionate sounding words in hobb and sat back down, shaking his head and waving a dismissive hand. The other hobbs laughed and shared a few words with him about the encounter, and his cheeks flushed darker grey.

Scollya crouched, carefully scrubbed the bowl against the tall grass at our feet and turned to present it to me, wide smile on her pebbled features.

“Oh, thank you,” I said, nodding and accepting the bowl. I wasn’t hungry after my Sleem nightmare, but I wanted to see how getting fed worked in Storage anyway.

I walked to the pod station, and it activated my BuyMort interface. A message explained that I had one ration of nutriment, and one ration of water available.

Selecting the food option, I raised my bowl up as the pod’s beam activated and narrowed. A puddle of greenish gruel appeared in the bowl and the rainbow beam shut off.

My BuyMort interface informed me that I could return for another food ration in twenty-four hours. My water ration was still available.

Scollya nodded and smiled, miming the act of drinking from the bowl. I shook my head and handed it to her. Whatever it was smelled faintly of rotting meat, and it turned my stomach even more.

I pointed at my head, my eyes, the bowl, and the pod station, before saying, “I was only curious. Thank you.” I mimed her eating the ration with my hands to finish my clumsy attempt at communication.

Scollya blinked at me, ducking her head to make sure she understood. Then she shrugged and slurped it down herself. The meal was gone in a few gulps, and then she said a word I’m pretty sure was “thanks” and chucked the bowl at the hobb she had stolen it from.

The metal object thunked off his chitin shoulder plate, and the hobb man stood up and turned to glare at Scollya.

She grinned at him and waved coquettishly.

The hobb again laughed and said a few dismissive words in their language before sitting back with his fellows to continue their own conversation. He turned to smile at Scollya once settled.

Hobb flirtation. I shrugged, asked the BuyMort pod station for my water ration, and waited. The rainbow beam scanned me over, found no container, and cancelled the transaction. My water ration remained.

Scollya led me away, to go find Rayna. We climbed to the top of a nearby hill, laden with crops, and scanned the nearby area.

Rayna’s group was near one of the massive doors that led to another cavernous section of Storage. They were open, and I could see more grassland beyond them.

I pointed to Rayna and then myself, after I had Scollya’s attention. She immediately nodded, took my hand, and started running down the hill.

She was lithe, athletic, and clearly knew her way around the hills and scaffolds. I was winded by the time we arrived at Rayna’s group, and Scollya was not.

She said a few words in their language to Rayna, who turned and nodded.

Scollya smiled at me, saluted with one fist to her chest, and took off running across the grasslands at full speed again. Tollya’s little sister was structurally different, but the family traits were all present.

Rayna, a group of BlueCleave hobbs, and the same group of RedTeeth hobbs were all standing in front of the massive, open door.

The segment of Storage beyond the doors was mostly dark, the only source of light the dingy, open windows at the top.

Several were webbed over, which set my neck hairs on edge.

Rayna stepped over to me and said, “We go in. Give RedTeeth tour, explain defenses.”

“Woah, defenses? What are we defending against?” I asked. I had my swords, but the shotgun was so damaged by acid I had left it in Mr. Sada’s guest room.

“This juncture important. It fall, whole quadrant of Storage fall. Hundreds of sections like this. Full of people. BlueCleave defend this juncture,” she explained. “Come! Will show you.”

She turned to the hobbs and barked a few words, which caused them to form up into ranks, and we all started jogging into the darkened section of Storage.

Myself last, of course, after I realized they’d all run on without me.

My helmet automatically switched to low-light vision, and everything was tainted even more green. But the section was clear for me to see.

I hustled and caught up, running through more tall grasslands.

Chapter 8

We jogged by another series of mobile shield walls, complete with murder holes, spears, and steely-eyed hobbs to wield them. There were also several fire pits stationed in the entrance, filled with thick dried grass fuel, and with canisters of oil at their sides.

Rayna led us at a sharp jog to the center of the room, the elevator shaft. The bottom portion was open, and wholly webbed over. She called a halt with a raised fist as we exited the taller grass around the shaft.

It appeared recently cut, in a wide circle around the infested tunnel in the floor.

Rayna turned to me and raised two fingers to her eyes, pointing them at the ground. I looked down to see a fine, nearly invisible layer of webbing spread out across the dirt and BuyMort metal that made up the elevator shaft’s base.

I nodded back to her and kept a good distance from the spider hole. Rayna proceeded to direct us as we crept around the edges to inspect the established defenses.

For the spider pit, that consisted primarily of weapon caches cleverly hidden around the area, and ghillie-suited BlueCleave hobbs lying in quiet sniper towers. The towers were made of discarded BuyMort materials, scrap metal and repurposed scaffolding.

Rayna explained that each tower came with a slag-rifle, which was church property and not to be sold. Ammunition was provided by the church as well.

One of the towers in particular was of interest, the entire troop carefully ascended to inspect a weapon at the top.

Rayna pulled back a massive leather cover, and several hobbs in the group whistled in appreciation at the revealed weapon. It was an artillery station, with a glowing purple energy pack humming at its side.

Rayna held her hands up and spoke to Fordar in the hobb language. She pointed up at the closed door in the ceiling several times, drawing my gaze up toward it.

The massive door was sealed, with heavy blast doors closed on top of it. Aside from that, extra fortifications had been placed over the elevator shafts, and all of the fans that surrounded them.

It wasn’t scrap either, the fortifications had the white and gold crest of the church on them. A massive Sleem cube had been painted on the door, indicating the threat hidden behind it.

Rayna finished with her troupe and turned back to me. “Explain to them how we hunt spiders. Trick them into coming up, then kill for leather and meat.”

She pointed at the ceiling again for my benefit. “And Sleem above,” Rayna said.

She turned and patted the oversized gunnery platform. “This only hurt Sleem. Not damage walls or doors. If they break through church barricades, this gun stop them no matter how many. Worth trillions, church show big trust letting us keep this.”

“So if tribe RedTeeth decides to sell it?” I asked.

Rayna took a sharp breath in and shook her head. “Suicide. Sleem under control, weapon just in case. But church send killers after RedTeeth if they sell gun.”

The word ‘killers’ seemed to mean something more to her than it did to me, but I let it go.

“So spiders below, contained-for-the-moment Sleem above. What’s the rest of the defenses for?” I pointed to the other three doors, all open and just as dark inside. My helmet showed me several more emplacements in front of them, with more zones of short-cut grass surrounding each.

I could even see armed BlueCleave hobbs on patrol, jogging lightly from one encampment to another.

“Goblins,” Rayna answered. “Storage full of goblins.”

My eyes narrowed and I remembered the little green creature slipping into the BuyMort storage container. “Are they contained too?”

Rayna sighed. “No. Hold entire wings to themselves. BlueCleave hobbs hunt gobbs in this area regularly, but spiders get lots too. They wander whole area, steal anything. Dangerous, we keep local population in check with skirmisher squads. Do hit and run inside each of those three rooms, regularly.”

I felt the importance of the juncture. Feral goblins on all sides and Sleem threatening to crash in from above. Based on the webbing below us, which I tried very hard not to look at, the lower levels were infested with BuyMort bugs that took the form of massive spiders.

Useful source of leather and meat, but I shuddered at the thought.

Our tour of the juncture appeared to be over, as the BlueCleave and RedTeeth hobbs formed up to head back to the entrance. I was happy to go and hurriedly climbed down the stairs to the bottom of the sniper tower.

So of course the first step I took off the bottom rung landed in a patch of webbing. I didn’t realize it until I lifted my foot to take another step, and the entire web structure in the center hole jigged.

Rayna froze, directly behind me. She immediately shouldered her rifle and barked a warning to the other hobbs. Fordar roared a laugh directly at me and hefted his oversized scrap axe.

I unsheathed Falcor, my magically sharp sword, and clipped the webbing from my boot. It slumped, and the pit of webs shifted again.

Two impossibly long, brown legs rose from the pit slowly, feeling the top surface of the web and following my exact thread. Eight shining eyes lifted next, followed by its giant mandibles.

Each was half the size of my legs.

I swallowed hard as another massive spider rose from the pit beside the first, legs and eyes appearing from the darkness.

A lance of fire struck the first spider in the side of the head from a nearby tower, and a BlueCleave hobb shouted a cheer. The spider reacted as if scalded, and scrambled free of the wall, toward the tower that had hurt it in a flash of movement.

Each tower was too high for the eleven-foot-tall spiders, and I saw the utility as soon as it attacked. The spider reared up and grasped the tower, which was reinforced on the back to take the additional weight. As it reached up toward the hobb who had shot it, the hobb leaned over the edge and stuck a long spear directly into the massive arachnid’s head.

It slumped instantly, and a cheer rose from the BlueCleave hobbs.

The second spider fixated on me, and I froze at the sight of it. It was so much taller than me and dripping saliva from its twitching mandibles. All eight eyes were fixed on me.

I raised my sword as it charged, but the giant arachnid was faster than I could properly track and pinned me to the ground with a giant leg, sending the weapon skittering to the side. Rayna dove over it and slammed the butt of her rifle into the heavy limb, cracking the chitin.

The beast squalled and lifted its leg, dragging my impaled torso with and raising me to my feet. My suit deployed tendrils and started sawing at the spear-like limb, before the spider yanked it’s leg back. The tip of the limb pulled free from my chest with a loud sucking pop, and I stumbled to my knees.

“Break something user! Bad damage requires big charge!” my cartoon starfish cried, from atop the spider. I stared up at it, focused on Rayna while blood seeped into my mouth. Rayna racked the bolt on her rifle and lifted it overhead, firing an instant before I lunged.

I slammed into one of the spiders legs as painkiller pumped into me, cracking the chitin as I bent the leg back. The fear receded, and I flared my plasma sword to life to swipe at the broken leg.

With a scramble of limbs, the spider reared back to avoid my sword, then slammed down its legs into me again. I was pinned to the floor again, this time in three places. Both legs and my lower stomach were impaled, and my worst nightmare came true as the giant spider plunged down to sink its fangs into my back.

Fordar slammed into the already damaged leg with his over-sized scrap axe. The chitinous armor shattered entirely, and the limb severed entirely. Green ichor splattered as the giant spider stumbled, missing me in its attack.

My cartoon starfish shook its head at me and scolded. “More charge user, always more charge for more injuries.”

Rayna shot the spider in the face again, a carefully placed round splashing two eyes out and the beast squealed in pain.

I was free again, and my limbs were healing, so I dragged myself forward and grabbed my fallen plasma sword again. It whooshed to life and incinerated the patch of webbing in a rush of bright flame.

The spider squealed, and the tunnel of webs ignited. Rayna glared at me, eyes wide as the echoes of more screaming spiders began to rise.

She roared a command in the hobb language and grabbed my collar, before dragging me with her up the nearby tower. The other BlueCleave hobbs spread out as Fordar and the RedTeeth closed ranks.

My suit spun tendrils in the air in front of me, spraying flesh foam and lasering my skin back the way it was supposed to be. My worst injuries healed first, and I ran out of charge before my punctured legs could be repaired.

I grabbed at the railing half-way back up the tower and shouted, “Let go, Rayna!”

The hobb woman stared down at me for a single second, before she did as I asked and ran the rest of the way up the tower on her own.

I rolled back down the stairs and army-crawled to the spiders severed limb, still in the charred webbing. I slammed my fist down on it, twice.

More tendrils spouted from the suit to fix up my legs, and fresh synthetic blood pumped into my body. Falcor was nearby, so I swept up the magic sword and stepped up next to Fordar and his squad.

The pot-bellied hobb stared at me incredulously, as the suit zapped at my rent flesh. He shook his head and focused back on the pit, as a dozen on-fire giant spiders rushed out.

Most of them just ran, to be perfectly fair. It was terrifying though, to witness so many spiders that large, while on fire, charging in panic toward us. One charged directly at our group and Fordar roared at it, stepping forward to clip one of its legs.

His squad armed with melee weaponry dove into the melee, while those with slag rifles opened fire on the already flaming spider.

Squeals rose from the spiders as they fled their hole. Rayna’s snipers took several down with well-placed shots, and I saw yet more hobbs appear as if from the tall grasses, cutting and hacking at a hapless giant spider until it fell.

Several of them escaped into the goblin wings, moving at great speed, but most collapsed before getting far. The fires I had set roaring, sending alarming amounts of black smoke into the air.

Massive fans kicked on overhead, drawing my gaze. They weren’t the fans directly around the overhead door, those were still sealed with church blockades. But the ceiling and walls were full of environmental controls, and the smoke quickly began funneling out of the large room.

Thick foam sprayed from the walls of the burning elevator shaft and doused the entire pit, suffocating the fires before a systemic environmental crash could occur. The majority of the webbing around the hole was gone, and a few still-burning husks of spiders nearby charred the sharp grasses.

Fordar roared, lifting his axe over his head as the spider he battled finally succumbed to its wounds and the flames racing across its body.

He was facing us, and so missed the final silent spider that rose from the smoking pit behind him. It was charred, hairless, and partially blinded. Ichor dripped down its face from burst eyes, but those that remained swiveled and fixated on Fordar.

I didn’t even think. I just ran to him and shoved him out of the way as the spider moved. A leg speared me through the belly and I collapsed as the spider pulled itself out of the shaft fully, dragging its burnt carapace with it.

Fordar stepped back over the top of me with another roar, raising his axe in challenge. The spider lashed out with a limb, and he managed to deflect the blow with the flat of his axe blade. It blasted him back off his feet and sent the weapon clattering into the grass as the spider refocused on him.

His RedTeeth warriors rushed in to battle it and save their chief, firing weapons and slamming rods into its limbs to crack the armored chitin.

It ignored them and raised up high above Fordar to kill him. I grasped at the hole in my belly, trying to keep my guts in as I rose from the ground and charged beneath the spider.

I clipped one leg with Falcor, lopping off the tip and causing it to stagger as it slipped. The spider’s abdomen fell close enough to be a target and I plunged Falcor’s tip into it as I ran.

Steaming spider entrails poured onto the ground behind me as I ran, and it squealed, falling even and causing Fordar to raise his hands defensively. I got there first and impaled the spider’s head as it slammed down on top of us.

Hot, stick liquid covered me and Fordar as the hobb grunted in surprise. The spider on top of us convulsed and flipped over, its legs curling up in the arachnid’s final pose.

Fordar’s RedTeeth warriors moved to help him up and he roared at them, swatting away hands to stand on his own. Then the big hobb turned and offered me his hand. I happily accepted it, and he hauled me up, watching as my starfish suit completed its repair work on my stomach, tucking away the last of my internal organs, and sealing the wound.

The big hobb roared a few words to his followers, while staring at me, then stepped back and saluted me with his head down. I returned the gesture, and covered in spider guts, bonded with the leader of the RedTeeth hobbs.

Our moment was interrupted by an echoing thud from above.

“Sleem!” Rayna shouted. She was on the sniper tower above us and I could see her begin to set up the weapon she’d pointed out to me before. The church weapon that they would kill people for selling.

What the hell was that thing exactly?

A BuyMort ad popped up and I realized I’d seen this exact weapon advertised before.

Infestation Cleanser — In a dimension not so different from yours or mine there exist exact copies of every species of every dimension and every space and time, but reversed.

For every you, an anti-you.

For every Sleem, an anti-Sleem . . .

Using our secret blend of crushing, squeezing and juicing, we blend, grind and energize until we have the perfect 100% effective anti-Sleem matter ray.

Sleem eradicate worlds. Don't risk your life on some cheap anti-Sleem wannabe.

Go big or lose your home. Go Infestation Cleanser. 438,000,000 morties. 5 stars. Spare Generators cost extra.

My eyes widened in anticipation. Even with all of this deadly madness around me, I couldn’t help but be excited to see what would happen next.

Chapter 9

Fordar and his hobbs gathered their weaponry and hustled up the tower at my side.

Rayna was on her phone, and I could see Elder Davoun’s face on the other side of the MortMobile psychic connection. She rapidly spoke in hobb to the Nah’Gh, and he nodded emphatically.

Rayna closed the phone and looked back to me. “Good, stay here. This almost over,” she said. Then she turned to Fordar and pointed at the weapon, and then the massive door in the ceiling.

Something massive struck it again, from the other side, and I winced. Flakes of paint and clouds of dust shook free from impact. Flashbacks to my night below the campground appeared in my head.

Rayna shouted a warning in hobb, and the door suddenly cracked, splitting open in the center as the blast doors receded. If the Sleem broke through the door, a BuyMort bug would be sent to deal with them and based on the size of the Sleem attacking the door, it would be difficult to survive.

The inner doors slid open, and Sleem poured forth. Rayna was in the seat of the weapon, furiously working the controls. She turned a key and pulled back on a trigger handle in the center.

Brilliant purple light lanced from the weapon to the hole in the ceiling, forming a perfect square of vibrant light around the doorway.

The Sleem who passed through the beam instantly died, fell apart, and rained down into the spider shaft as droplets. Some of it splattered around the shaft and burned away the grasses, but we were far enough to be safe.

A flood of dead Sleem poured through the doorway until the larger consciousness above them realized what was happening and the flood simply stopped.

The weapon’s power pack was hot, but it hummed and continued projecting the lethal square of light to the ceiling door. I could just see through it, to the quivering mass of sentient slime that held itself up the elevator shaft above.

Rayna shouted and slammed a button on the weapon, and the beam shut down. The doors above us began to rumble closed again, and the chunk of living acidic snot behind them jiggled impotently.

However many Sleem I thought I had killed below our campground, Rayna had just killed thousands more. The church had impressive weaponry.

In one of the adjoining open sections, a chorus of small cheers arose, and tiny green forms rushed to attack one of the dead spiders.

Rayna barked a few words at her hobbs, and a squad formed to go hunt the feral gobbs, jogging off toward that gate with spears in hand.

Then she turned and leaned on the weapon’s console, looking at Fordar. She asked a short question in hobb, and he immediately nodded.

Rayna produced the scroll from Elder Davoun and a gold-ink pen, handing the latter to Fordar. He wiped ichor from his face and scratched a rough symbol onto the paper underneath our signatures.

While Rayna rolled the scroll back up, Fordar turned and roared at the ceiling. The RedTeeth warriors joined him, raising weapons and cheering.

On the jog back to the elevator, Rayna explained that Fordar and his troops were thrilled to start taking over these spaces, and that they would behave honorably toward the BlueCleave tribe members while the transition was occurring over the next few days.

We said some brief goodbyes to the few BlueCleave members around the functional elevator and rode it to RedTeeth city. Fordar turned back to me and hefted his axe, meeting my eyes with a nod.

He saluted first me, then Rayna, before turning to lead his hobbs out.

“That go . . . well,” Rayna said. She sighed and leaned against the wall of the oversized elevator. “You do good. Very good.”

“Good? I thought I caused the whole shitstorm,” I scoffed.

“If nobody trigger webs, I would have. RedTeeth fight people, not Sleem. Not spiders, not gobbs. Well, sometimes gobbs. But mostly, RedTeeth fight other hobbs. Fordar need see for himself, or never believe,” she said.

“But your spiders?” I asked. “Don’t you need those for food?”

She nodded. “But plenty dead now. BlueCleave get them, butcher, store. They come back. Always come back. We burn them out regularly, you just cause it to happen little early.

The elevator stopped at the arrival departure area, and the doors slid open to a crowd of people. Rayna helped me squeeze out through them, and we approached a pod station.

I didn’t have to fend off any pickpockets, thanks to the spider ichor covering me head to foot. Mr. Sada’s finery hadn’t survived, but my modesty was intact. I stared out the windows at the other visible parts of Storage.

It was beautiful, glittering silver encasing a swirling green world. The spikes of arrival towers rose into the distance, twinkling in the strange star’s light, and the massive floatation buoys below rocked and swayed with the surface storms.

All that had happened in the depths of the Dyson Sphere helped me realize what this place was. It was BuyMort incarnate. If the app in my head was BuyMort’s soul, this was its rotting corpse.

When it came our turn to leave, I happily walked through the rainbow beam. Church security refused me access to any areas, due to the fact that I was dripping in bug guts. I nodded in acceptance and sat down in the seat they offered me, after placing thick towels down on the floor and chair.

Rayna went to complete her deal with Elder Davoun, and I stared out the windows at Storage until she returned.

By the time we made it back to the campground on Nu-Earth, it wasn’t even daylight yet. The entire trip had only been a couple of hours, but it felt like a lifetime.

I would do what I had to for my people to never have to go there.

I also spared a thought for how many Nu-Earthers were probably already in Storage.

Possibly millions. I shook the thought away, refusing to let it darken my mind further. Then I snuck back into Mr. Sada’s house for a shower.

I tossed his torn and ichored-up clothing in the spare room’s wastebasket, then stared at the mess, thinking about all of the shit I’d just been through.

A Sleem cube had been lying in wait, in the BuyMort system, for some poor schmuck to have a nightmare about Sleem so it could be teleported in and make that nightmare come true. It had probably even come from Storage.

And spaghetti knows there was plenty of Sleem in Storage. What a fucking mess that was.

I cast about, looking for something to wear, and I emerged from his house wearing nothing but a thick terrycloth robe.

Lost to my thoughts, away from all of the others, I realized that I was angry. Not at Drusk, the mordren, or Crasta, the guard. Not Doofus, or Phyllis, or any of them. Not even Storage itself., As I left the house with my gear, I realized I was angry at Molls.

Furious, even.

Fucking BuyMort. Molls’ god did this. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help thinking that this was Molls’ fault for worshiping BuyMort. It didn’t make sense to me how the Church could hold the top slot in BuyMort’s entire system and be completely clueless to what it was, or how it operated.

Once my anti-Sleem boots were on, I marched back out into the early morning air and started the walk to Molls’ Lincoln, since it clearly wasn’t mine anymore.

The goblin work crew had set up the wall stupidly, probably my fault. They had made two walls. One on either side of the road, all the way down to the second gate, where the desert wall just ended. At least it provided defense against a vehicle ramming the gate.

I sighed as I entered the campground, stopping in my tracks on the other side of our second gate.

Realization hit me as the hobb manning that gate stared at me. She looked me up and down before turning away and shaking her head.

Shame. Shame! Cover up your filthy body, you perv. And do it in style. Introducing SandyWear by CertaShirt. Thin, breathable fabric with the toughness of a tank. CertaShirt. It keeps the shame of your naughty bits to yourself.

I didn’t even bother to see the price or the reviews for the clothing ad. A sudden anger had seized me.

Honestly, why should I care? My dick was covered up and everything cost morties. Why bother buying clothing at all?

The starfish suit was just going to tear them off when I got hurt anyway.

I looked down at myself. A bathrobe and giant floppy boots were more than I needed, to be honest. If someone wanted me to wear something else, they could buy it for me for a change.

I kept walking, a shit-eating grin firmly in place. It seemed to unnerve the hobb, who suddenly found her gate very very interesting. So much so that not a single glance more came in my direction.

Yeah. This was going to work really well. I strode forward, a sudden gust of wind rippling my robe up and out, giving any onlooker a good look at my ass cheeks.

It was hard to give a shit, though. I had stuff to do and people to meet.

Perhaps life in this BuyMort multiverse didn’t have to be so difficult. And to be honest, sometimes the relationship with BuyMort was easy.

After all, what was it? Just an app for selling and shopping as far as I could tell. A very intrusive one, but not that much more than what my Earth had already developed by the time BuyMort came. And it was a fantastic app for that task, if only it didn’t come with all the societal complications.

Complications I needed to speak to Molls about.

Chapter 3

It was really only a matter of time before I remembered that I needed to at the very least call ahead, and not just storm up to the car and start knocking on the windows. Knowing my luck, she probably slept in the nude, and I’d end up further scandalizing the poor woman.

Fortunately for me, I remembered while I was walking through the campground to my former turnoff.

I pulled my phone out and took a few deep breaths to steady myself before calling her. The deity in the phone sighed as he waited for me, then connected the call.

Molls answered almost immediately, and the phone showed her oversized, blinking eyes peeking out from inside a nest of blankets.

“Tyson?” She croaked. “What time is it?”

“Hi, Molls. It’s early.” I glanced up at the starlit sky overhead. “Very early. I’m . . . sorry.” I winced at the compulsive apology. “I need to talk to you about BuyMort. Right now.”

She blinked rapidly and rose from the blanket nest. Her head emerged and she raised a hand to yawn into. “No, it's fine. I thought something like this might happen. Come on over, I’ll put coffee on.”

She hung up the phone, and the deity in the fog stared at me before I pushed the button to banish him. Obediently, the screen went dark, and I pocketed the device.

As I walked to my road, the stink returned. Putrefaction drifted by on the wind, and I recoiled.

It smelled exactly the same as the mystery stench at Mr. Sada’s.

This time, it was wafting toward me from the pile of boxes and flesh-tape that had been growing behind Phyllis’ deck. Mr. Sada kept his covered up by the boxes.

I had heard him telling Hord to do it that way once. Like most everything else, the flesh-tape creeped him out.

Apparently it rotted if you left it out in the sun for three days too. Good to know.

Really I guess I shoulda seen that one coming, in hindsight. It occurred to me, as I stared at the stinking mess behind Phyllis’ trailer, that I should probably give Molls a few minutes to get ready. She likely thought I was leaving from Mr. Sada’s.

A reasonable person would have called from there. I just festered and stewed as I walked the idiot corridor the gobbs had built for me.

In my hesitation and procrastination, I walked over to the Shasta and started arranging boxes. Phyllis was either asleep, or watching tv and not caring, cause the mech never moved.

Her helmet was closed, which pretty much meant ‘do not disturb.’

I tried my best not to touch the stinking flesh tape as I worked, but a glob of it fell across my hand anyway, leaving a smear of wet stench on me before it plopped onto the ground.

The tape had darkened slightly and was becoming a deep green color from the inside out. It was also sweating some kind of horrible smelling oil.

I immediately rubbed my hand on the sand to get it off, which helped a little. The funk died down significantly once I got most of it shoved and scooped into place beneath some boxes. I set bigger boxes over the smaller ones covering the flesh-tape, and it helped even more.

Once I had a few layers, I wiped my hands on the dirt and called it good enough, before heading to Molls’ site.

I walked down the small road between privacy hills and raised my hand, sniffing where that gross stuff had touched me. It was still pretty funky.

Molls was sensitive to smells, but there was nothing more I could do about it, so I just walked up to the car and knocked lightly on the passenger side front door. Its lock thunked, and the door popped open a crack.

I opened and hurriedly sat down, keeping my stinky hand tucked under my robe. It didn’t help at all; she noticed almost right away.

Molls was in the backseat, coils arranged neatly beneath herself. She was wearing her robes, but also had the electric blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes flickered over my outfit, but her expression remained neutral and her scales didn’t change color.

One of the new additions to the car was a gently rotating disk in the ceiling. It faintly glowed, and radiated gentle heat. The bracket it sat in was sunk into the metal of the ceiling, and a cable ran across the top of the door to the dashboard, where it plugged into what the front of my car had become.

The dashboard had a lot of real estate. These land yachts always had giant slabs of dashboard anyway, and the Continental dash had room to spare. Molls had been busy, customizing the interior with several gadgets, all of which appeared to plug into the car’s cigarette lighter.

Everything was plugged into it, with wires run cleverly across the roof and sides of the car. There was no way it had enough power in its battery, and I became suddenly interested in seeing what was under the hood these days. I wondered if it even ran anymore.

Gentle lighting on strings ran through the entire car and provided soft light that could scale brighter or darker on a switch Molls controlled in the back.

Our coffee was bubbling, two small metallic cups of it embedded in rests on the dashboard. Molls’ tail reached past me and hooked a cup, balancing it perfectly as she brought it gently into the backseat with her.

She smiled at me as I watched and flicked her tongue into the steam rising from the cup.

The look that crossed her face was almost comical. She was clearly revolted. Shocked, even.

But her sense of decorum fought the reaction away as her scales flushed through several colors. Bright green mixed into orange, mixed into a solid pink that stayed as she blinked and looked over at me.

“Tyson?” She started, gently. “Did you, by any chance, happen to touch the tape that’s been rotting behind Phyllis’ trailer?”

I blushed and nodded. “Yeah. I tried not to, but . . . some fell. It’s really gross, I know.”

The pink in her scales brightened, and she started digging in a bag in the back seat. “I have something, just a moment.”

I waited.

She produced a small bottle and squinted at it, before nodding excitedly. “Yes, this is it. Hold out your hands, please.”

I did as she asked, cupping my hands together in the backseat. She poured a tiny amount of clear gel across my palms and dropped the bottle back in her bag. When she saw me staring at her, she motioned for me to rub my hands together.

It smelled faintly astringent, so I treated it like hand sanitizer. It went on slimy, but quickly dried, leaving no smell at all behind.

Bacto-Annihilate — Kills 99.99999% of germs on contact. Eliminates smells. Destroys viral enemies upon contact. 1800 morties, 4.7 stars.

Molls pointed to my coffee, still lightly bubbling in its bracket. “That should be ready.”

I thanked her and hesitantly touched the handle. The mug was all metal, but the handle felt cool to the touch. The mug bottom was comfortably warm as I held it in my lap, and the coffee itself smelled amazing.

Dark, rich, and flowing with hints of hazelnut and vanilla.

I glanced in the rearview mirror as I took a sip, and watched Molls open a tiny paper package to drop two moth wings into her own cup. The package came with a tiny bamboo spoon, which she used to stir the wings in. As I watched, black coffee to my lips, her cup lightened to the color of coffee with cream.

She flicked her tongue out again and her scales shimmered purple. “Mmm, much better.” Then she took a sip and set her cup down in a holder that attached to the space behind the back seat.

The rear window was covered fully with drapes that extended down the glass, and Molls had turned the flat area up there into a cubby of sorts. When she noticed me looking in the rearview mirror, she smiled gently at me and adjusted her blanket.

“So. What can I help you with, Tyson?” Her voice soothed, full of practiced patience and intentionally calming tones.

I thought for a long moment before answering her. “Is that those drumu-dust moth wings you just added to your coffee?” I pointed over the back seat, bringing her attention to the steaming cup.

She blinked a few times and nodded, glancing between me and her cup.

“Mmhm, I love drumu. It’s possibly my favorite flavor.” There her eyes went up and to one side. “Have you tried drumu flavored ice cream? By BuyMort, it’s unbelievably good.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Moth wing ice cream?”

Molls smiled and let out a tiny snort. Just a rush of exhalation, a puff of air through her nostril slits.

“Of course. Drumu moths are exquisite. Enhances almost anything it’s added to. They can be rich without an acid to counter them, but that’s hardly a problem when it comes to ice cream.”

I stared at the coffee cup in the back window. It looked just like normal coffee with creamer. There were no bug bits or dust particles anywhere to be seen. Molls gently lifted the cup and brought it closer to me.

“Would you like to try some?” She offered.

I blanched and waved my hand. “Oh, no thank you. I don’t eat bugs.”

Molls chuckled and raised the cup to her lips with a gentle smile. “Your loss.”

She slurped it and breathed out her pleasure. That moth must have been delicious. I shuddered.

“Anyway.”

I took a breath and looked her in the eyes. My anger had faded in intensity and become confusion again now that I was around her. She'd offered me coffee, with tasty bug parts in it. How could she be part of something so evil? I decided to go for precise information.

“I need to know about your religion, Molls.”

She blinked a few times, and her scales flickered orange for an instant. “What do you mean?”

“What are the tenants of your faith?” I locked eyes with her. “Specifically, what do you believe about BuyMort, and why?”

Molls blinked again and flicked her tongue out. Her scales filled with yellow that quickly faded to pink. She looked down at her coffee, before taking a deep breath and starting.

“Of everything that exists in the known multiverse, one element stands out for two important reasons. It is simultaneously the single rarest element in known existence, and the single most influential.”

I stared at her, trying to keep my expression neutral.

When I didn’t deliver the question she was expecting, she answered it anyway.

“Life, Tyson. Intelligent life is the most precious, important, and powerful part of the multiverse that is or can ever be. BuyMort serves life, by ensuring freedom and bringing us all together with the holiest, purest act that life can engage in. The exchange of value between equal sapients. BuyMort reveres life through this tremendous service. We believe life should revere it in return.”

“Drumu moths don’t count?” I snapped. “They’re not life?”

She blinked and grimaced, the yellow to pink thing happening to her scales again. This time, she didn’t answer right away. When she did, it was aimed at her coffee cup, and not me.

“Are you upset with me, Tyson?” Her voice was so small it nearly broke me. I stopped myself and thought hard about why I was angry at all.

“I had a nightmare about the Sleem.” I said, finally. “And then, when it was over and I woke up, I unconsciously paid morties for a Sleem cube to arrive via BuyMort pod and attack me in my own bed.”

Molls shook her head and scowled, but when she lifted her head to respond, I cut her off.

“This thing added itself to BuyMort, specifically to answer nightmares like mine. And BuyMort allowed this. Encouraged it, even,” I growled.

The Nah’gh priest in the backseat took a deep breath and steadied herself.

“You blame BuyMort for the actions of the Sleem.”

“No I blame BuyMort for allowing those actions,” I instantly retorted.

Her scales tinted orange, but I continued.

“I blame BuyMort for doing business with the Sleem at all. For allowing them to prey on decent people, for bringing them to my world in the first place. I blame BuyMort for encouraging a Sleem cube to lay in wait for a nightmare, to make it come true.”

Molls shook her head more forcefully this time.

“No, that is a complete misinterpretation of BuyMort’s will, and intent. The Sleem are a monstrous people, but they are people in the eyes of BuyMort. And so they are offered the same freedoms we all enjoy. It is how they misuse those freedoms that is the issue here, not them having that freedom in the first place. The Sleem are a threat to us all, BuyMort is our only hope against them.”

I clenched my free hand into a fist unconsciously.

“BuyMort took my nightmare and brought it to life.” I stared over the seat back at her in the rearview mirror. “How can that possibly make it the good guy here?”

Her scales flushed red, but quickly cooled to a mix of purple and faint yellow.

“BuyMort simply offers the services. We, the sapient people who populate BuyMort, make those services what they are.”

She glanced at my clenched jaw and raised one hand into the air as she met my eyes.

“Breathe Tyson. Breathe. In, one. Out, two.”

When I started doing it, I felt the ball of fury uncurl in my chest. My back muscles came down a notch in their clench, and I blinked for the first time in what felt like forever.

“I will help you control your unconscious spending, Tyson. I promise. Just give me time, and work with me, I will help you,” she said.

I blinked a few more times and kept focusing on my breath. Count to ten, start over. Molls helped me stay on track for a few repeats before the relaxation effects began to really settle in. The anger washed out of me, and I regained my focus.

None of this was her fault. Her perspective on it was skewed, and she didn’t know what BuyMort really was. Couldn’t know. Once I had calmed significantly, I started the conversation again.

“Molls, I don’t know how to tell you my perspective without being blunt, and probably hurtful. Just be prepared for that and know I don’t mean to hurt you with it. I just need to express this.”

I looked her in the eye, and she nodded. My phone was out and the home screen up before I realized it. The numbers had finally slowed their rapid advance. Just over two billion of us were left.

“Molls, a week ago, there were roughly eight billion humans on this planet.” I held up the phone and showed her the app. “Now, barely four days after BuyMort, there are six billion fewer. That’s not revering life. That’s directly causing death.”

She paled, flushing pure white as she stared wide-eyed at my phone.

“The-the church says that what came before BuyMort was flawed, and those flaws are the cause of any . . . any death.”

Her scales brightened, filling with yellow as a thought crossed her mind.

“There are some, newer figures in the church, who advocate for the removal of worlds that don’t fit in easily.”

My brow furrowed as I looked at her and took my phone back. “Aren’t you new?”

Her scales dropped back to the standard pink.

“Yes, but I’m from a family with a long history in the church. We’re part of the original affiliate bloodlines. I have always been taught it is right to help ease new worlds in, because it can be . . .”

She trailed off, blinking at the phone in my hand. When I moved it, she snapped out of it and continued, “It can be difficult, when BuyMort arrives.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, and I sipped my delicious coffee. It helped some. At least the mood was calm again. I was quiet out of shame for my eruption at Molls, and she didn’t appear able to control the pink in her scales, because it wouldn’t go away.

Eventually, she spoke again, in a small voice.

“I am sorry, Tyson. For your people. I . . . I did not know it was this bad.”

There she raised a hand in a defensive gesture.

“My daily communes with the affiliate have mentioned nothing about the death toll, I assumed it wasn’t bad. Meeting or beating projections.”

I nodded, staring down into my cup. There was almost nothing left, just a few dregs in the bottom. I swirled it and didn’t respond.

After a few moments, she quietly asked a question.

“What was that app? The one that is tracking the death toll.”

I shook my head.

“Sorry, I don’t really remember. Just some app that tracks a bunch of different info.”

She winced. “Did it have words with elongated S sounds in the description?”

My head came up and I nodded, my confusion evident on my face.

Molls nodded with me and smiled gently. “I’d like to tell you a story if I may. It’s a personal story, so I would appreciate it if you don’t share with just anyone.”

I blinked and nodded at her.

“Thank you,” Molls began.

“My people have a long history, and we proudly remember it. The good and bad. Dark and light.”

She wistfully stirred her coffee with the tip of a claw, before taking a long sip and continuing.

“We were once slaves, all of the Nah’gh, on our own world. Playthings and workhorses. They performed experiments on our bodies, with our genetic code. Our minds. Made us . . . mere dolls, instead of people. Our world’s master race claimed to have created us, but after BuyMort we discovered they were merely invaders and usurpers from a long-gone age. BuyMort’s arrival gave us the tools to break from our oppression and join the multiverse as leaders of industry. It freed my people.”

I scowled at her story. Each world BuyMort arrived upon was wildly different. Even the other Earths it had consumed, I was getting the feeling were not the same as my world.

It made sense that some worlds would see it as a savior.

A BuyMort ad popped up, for a course on BuyMort history. It featured several races of note, including Human and Nah’gh. I subtly saved it for later. She wasn’t done, and I focused as she took another sip of her coffee before putting the cup down and folding her fingers in her lap.

“One of the things that the master race used to do to my people was force us to ingest a potent drug, something they called simply ‘Control’. It makes us extremely pliable and open to suggestion, while removing our inhibition completely. One of the side effects of the drug is slurred speech, which for my people, comes across as elongated S sounds in our words.”

I stopped dead, and the realization hit me. “I downloaded a super racist app, didn’t I?”

She smiled softly and her scales finally changed to purple. “You kind of really did. That app is unfortunately popular, and it always has ads for anti-Nah’gh hate groups. I’m so relieved to hear you didn’t know.”

I blinked a few times and nodded. “Oh yeah, no idea. So much of this stuff is just confusing and bizarre for me still.”

My head hung and I leaned back against the seat again.

“I’m really sorry for snapping at you earlier. None of this is your fault, and you came to help save me in the Sleem dungeon. It was a crap friend move for me to come yell at you for it.”

She reached forward and grasped my arm, lightly. “Don’t dwell on it Tyson. I understand. This is a hard time for everyone, and I’m grateful that you want to be my friend, in spite of having such different religious beliefs. I looked up your religion, and I am very impressed. It is unusual.”

I smiled, in spite of myself.

“Yeah, Molls. Religion is different to everybody, and mine is not like yours.”

I narrowed my eyes and laughed at the expression she gave me.

“To me, being Pastafarian was always just another way of being atheist. Or agnostic, I guess, now. It was more about showing up at town hall meetings and making the same exact speeches that fundamentalist religious folks were making in order to try and rule others’ lives with their beliefs, just with spaghetti in the place of any kind of deity or belief structure.”

I sighed and chuckled at the memory.

“It was to get a rise out of folk mostly, and a fun way to be drunk in public without getting in trouble for it.”

She frowned and turned faintly orange.

“You have battling religions?”

I choked on the laugh that erupted from my throat.

“Uh yeah, that too. But this was more like civil discourse. In my part of the world, all religions were legally required to be treated equally, so folks like me would sometimes mock people from other religions that didn’t respect that. That’s how I did it, anyway, when I was young and gave a shit.”

“Strange,” she said. Her lips twitched up in a smile though. “Well, I certainly do not lack for engaging work in this new post.”

Molls adjusted her robe, and blanket across her shoulders.

“First the daring rescue, and then a full session in the night.” She made a comical face, blowing up her cheeks.

“Oh yeah, thanks for that. I really want to hear about your armor and weapon sometime, that was impressive.” I cocked my head to the side, and she laughed.

“Oh, those were my mother’s. She insisted I take them when I came to Nu-Earth. Said it was too dangerous.”

Molls waved a hand. She looked sadly at her empty coffee cup, and then shrugged and lifted it to drain what few drops she could. I liked her better for the act, it was exactly what I would do.

“Smart lady,” I said. “Your mom, I mean.”

Molls blinked a few times and shrugged, with a shake of her head. “I do not think you would like to meet her.” She looked away, focused on putting her coffee cup away. When she turned back, she smiled at me, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“In fact, I rather regret bringing her up.”

With a blink and quick shake of her head, she changed the conversation track. “Are you feeling any better?”

I nodded. “Yes, thank you Molls.”

It was suddenly uncomfortable, and I put my empty coffee cup back in the holder. “I should probably get out of your hair. Scales? Car, for sure.” I fumbled at the door handle.

She blinked and watched me. “If you feel you should.”

I froze. “Should I not?”

Molls chuckled and shook her head.

“Tyson, I’m sorry. Your indecision is adorable, but no. If you want to leave, you should. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m your friend.”

“Just don’t want to overstay my welcome.” I shrugged. “Should probably also get moving and get everyone fed.”

She smiled softly. “There is much work to be done on new affiliates.”

My mind made up, I popped the door. I placed my hand over hers and nodded to her. “Thank you, Molls. I appreciate your counsel.”

Her scales radiated pink, then purple, before shifting back to a brighter pink, all from the place I touched her forearm. She smiled and averted her gaze, huddling down into her blankets without retracting her arm.

I slid out of the car and shut the door behind me, taking a deep breath of the cold morning air. In that moment, I realized that my problem with most of the jobs in my past had never been the work. I was actually looking forward to getting started.

I left Moll’s site via the privacy hill, climbing up to where I had first fought the vein-scorpion, and stared out over the campground.

Tents dotted the area, and more vehicles were in the parking lot. Phyllis had no neighbors aside from Darclau and the Unkindess’ reserve, who it seemed had taken it upon themselves to put up a fence, with very comfortable looking toppers on the wire to sit and preen from.

Most of the new action was on the far side of the complex. Hobbs walked silently between sites, and across the top of the wall in the distance.

Despite all that had happened, I looked over the campground with pride. The place had changed a lot over the last 4 days, and I had to say, it was all for the better.

Chapter 10

Rayna approached at a distance and waved to me as she started into the desert. I walked down to meet her and waved back. “Problem.” She grunted as we neared one another.

“What?” I responded.

“Sada got the spider ranch.” She said, with a furrowed brow. “He asked Hord to talk to our hobbs to distract them, then sneaked past. Hord didn’t know his plan.”

I sighed and pulled up the affiliate. A massive amount of morties had gone through it right into Mr. Sada’s managerial account.

Hundreds of millions, leaving only the sad ten percent the affiliate was due for me to operate with.

I had twenty-two million morties and some change to work with, and no income for the foreseeable future.

“Fuck,” I answered, drawing it out and letting my mixed sense of exasperation and anger ride over its single syllable.

We walked in the dark to the spider forest, Rayna silent and me muttering under my breath. As we walked, I thought only of how angry at Mr. Sada I was.

What I should have been worried about the devastation he had wrought. It was bad.

The front row of the spider forest was gone entirely. The trees had been warped away whole, taking even the roots. The large tree at the front was missing too, a singular hole in the ground.

Rayna and I walked through the trees at the front of the pathway. They were completely devoid of any spiders or webbing. Nothing moved in their branches or leaves, and I slumped.

Thankfully, at the rear of the forest, a small horde of spiders still crawled and worked. I noticed them when we got in deep, and one crawled across the path directly in front of us, trailing a long shimmering thread.

I stopped Rayna with an arm in front of her and pointed. The treetops were alive with movement. The only webbing I could see was fresh, still shining in the dark, but there were still spiders.

He hadn’t sold everything.

I breathed out a sigh of relief, and then turned back. I hadn’t been this deep into Spider City ever, and the realization that it wasn’t abandoned and empty as I had feared returned my desire to stay far away from it.

We exited in a careful hurry, leaving any precious arachnid life we found as it was.

The poor spiders were frantically working. They could tell dawn was coming, and none of them had functional webbing. I wondered how many would die during the day because of Mr. Sada’s idiocy.

His trail was easy for me to follow, because I knew how that moron thought and in my mind’s eye I could see exactly how he had progressed.

When he arrived, he did a straight sale on the first bunch of trees. Then, as he was eagerly selling and collecting morties at a rapid pace, he realized he was ruining the forest and started selling all the ‘spider stuff’ in the trees instead.

But there he took much longer to realize his mistake, and it took from then until the time he reached the end of the walkway for him to switch over to only selling spider silk from the trees and leaving the livestock intact.

It hurt to walk through from his perspective, knowing that it wasn’t willful malice. It would almost have been better if it had been. And I knew that I was absolutely correct in my review of the event.

I also knew that he was going to whine and play defensive when I confronted him about it.

I put it out of my head, and just told Rayna to stop him if he tried anything stupid like that again. She agreed but hesitated when I told her to shoot him.

I wasn’t sure if she understood I was joking, and I realized at that moment that I really wasn’t.

His naivete and simple lack of attention was going to get us all killed. He needed to stop fucking up. We walked slowly back to the front lot, where she pointed to another problem just about to get started.

As I watched, a new vehicle was admitted through the front gate, escorted by two armed hobbs.

They directed the newcomer to the parking lot, and the bright red Toyota pickup slid into an open space. Three men with beards and one man without a beard exited the truck, and one of the hobbs escorting them barked something at the men.

Suddenly, more hobbs arrived on site, all brandishing weapons.

One of the men was holding a handgun in the air, by its trigger-guard, and based on their reaction to it, I assumed he had hidden knowledge of it from them at the gate. With a shrug, I slipped my helmet in place and straightened my robe, before walking down to meet the new arrivals.

The men and hobbs seemed calm, the handgun was in custody before I even arrived, but I stepped out of the desert and stopped right in front of the new arrivals.

I knew these guys, they were militia.

I had seen one of them in this exact truck the other day, when Valued Garthrust first came to visit. He had been driving then, and he had been driving now. I stepped up directly in front of him and stared, letting him see his own reflection in the mirrored surface of my helmet.

“Is there a problem here, security?” I asked him.

He blinked and looked between his friend and my helmet as a hobb approached to talk to me. It was Tollya, which made me feel bad for these guys if it came to a fight.

“No boss, no problem. They just forgot to declare one weapon. These guys want in. Need help, so like you said.”

She grunted and shrugged, nudging Rayna as she moved to stand beside her.

“I did say that, didn't I?” I leaned toward her and away from the driver. He flinched when I suddenly brought the helmet back to face him. “But we have to stay safe too.”

His brow furrowed and he looked to his friends, who all nodded. “Well, that’s what we came for. To be safe.”

I glanced in the cab of the still running pickup, before turning to lean on the door. “Yeah, safe and fed. Cause hungry folk ain’t safe, right?”

“Y’all got food?” one of them in the back asked.

“Not yet but thank you guys so much for asking!” I chirped back.

“I was actually on my way to find some help in making a food run, and we need a lot of cargo space. You boys ready for your first act of service? Earn your keep, prove your good intentions? All that fun stuff, available right here and now.”

I finished by patting the side of his truck. The driver bristled.

The hobbs began to disperse, but at a hand motion from me, Tollya, Rayna, and several others stayed nearby and kept an eye on us.

“You asking us to go back out there and help you make a food run, right now?” the driver asked.

“Yes, exactly, thank you. I’ve got a place, it’s nothing more than a quick drive there and back, maybe some land wasps to outrun, or fight. I think they’re speedy. But that shouldn’t be too much of a problem, you boys got quite the armory back there.”

I finished by pointing my thumb over my shoulder at the backseat. Hung from the ceiling was a gun rack filled with heavily customized AR-15 rifles. Cursed guns, every one of ‘em. Each seat back had dual pistol holders, with what looked like large caliber sidearms.

“Would be super handy if we ran into those things. One of you should stay here and get settled in, the rest should pile in with me and help feed all these good folk.”

The driver held up a finger and scowled at me. He and his friends stepped a few feet away and huddled up to murmur. My helmet offered me a directional microphone upgrade, and I quickly tagged it to a wish list I kept meaning to name ‘Upgreyedds.’

Seemed appropriate. That’s the kind of fuckin’ apocalypse I got, after all.

Suddenly, my Afflqwst app brought itself to life and seized the wish list, shrinking it down and making it see through. The name of the wish list erased itself and filled in the word “Upgreyedds” and then closed everything. I was left blinking and smiling.

My app upgrade had made itself useful yet again.

The driver turned back. “Yeah no sweat buddy. We’ll be happy to take you up on that.”

He started to move past me to the driver’s seat and I stepped in front of him. We came face to helmet again and I shook my head.

“No, you, I'd like to stay here. As our guest, until we can get back with the food. Get settled, maybe make some friends. You’re the leader of your little group here, after all. Best if you make the introductions around camp.”

He scowled at me and took a step back. “Uh . . . yeah.”

“Excellent, thank you so much for agreeing!” I clapped him on the shoulder. “See you later.”

I got into the driver’s seat and buckled my seat belt while I activated my MortMobile phone and called Tollya. I saw her press a button in her pocket and then touch her ear.

“Yeah boss,” she grunted.

“Take him to Mr. Sada’s basement and keep Mr. Sada away from him. Don’t let him out of your sight, but don’t hurt him unless he makes you. Search him for weapons, don’t let him get stuff from BuyMort,” I muttered. She grunted her understanding, and we cut the connection.

His friends all piled in. Two behind me, one at my side. The truck bed was empty already, these geniuses not thinking to toss in any semblance of a camping set or gear storage to make it look like they were survivors.

Just guns. Guns and ballcaps, each one of them wore one. And the one to my side lightly touched a handgun in a hard plastic holster embedded in his door.

I had seen it when I got in, and his arm could only be down there touching that gun, or itching the underside of his kneecap, which he pretended to do when he turned to see my helmet directly facing him.

I adjusted Falcor at my side and nestled it in place more comfortably.

“Nice to meet you guys!” I chirped. “Let’s go!”

I slowly and carefully reversed and drove us out of the parking lot, as Tollya and two other hobbs escorted the driver away toward the mansion and Rayna watched us go.

More hobbs whose faces I didn’t recognize and names I didn’t know opened the gate for me and closed it behind me. After driving around Mr. Sada’s manor and the wall that closed off his road, we rejoined it and started cruising toward SunDew Valley Foods, and the wonderful hippies who ran the place.

While we drove, the sun began to finally hint at its intentions to rise. The gray of predawn coated the desert, and the few nocturnal animals that remained began their last call hustle. I saw a group of ravens winging their way toward the campground, and they swung over to investigate the truck.

I rolled down the window and waved, and they veered off back to the campground. Darclau and his boys, coming in from a night of raiding, I assumed.

“You wavin’ at birds?” One of the men in the back seat asked, mostly covering the sound of a firearm being primed. My helmet identified the sound and warned me of a potential threat to my rear.

I nodded my head seriously. “I’ve been trying to make friends with those ravens for years. Think I might finally be making some progress.”

“Shame,” he said to his friend.

“Why’s that?” I asked, glancing in the rearview. Both men were clutching handguns. “Because you intend to kill me?”

My foot pressed down on the accelerator, and the truck noticeably picked up speed.

“At seventy miles per hour?”

I reached down and flicked off the headlights.

“In the dark?”

They hesitated, so I kept talking. “I was hoping to get you boys away from your boss for a bit. Maybe talk you out of this. So few of us left now, and I am just not looking forward to killing my first humans.”

I leaned the helmet slightly to the passenger.

“I know it’s gonna happen, but I struggle to get behind the thought of being okay with it.”

He yanked the handgun from its holster, and I slammed on the brakes. At the speed we were going, it took a few seconds for the truck to fully stop, and all three of them were pressed forward against their belts.

One idiot in the back hadn’t bothered to wear one and smashed into the front seat of my passenger, pressing them both together in a heap, as he slid halfway over the top of his companion.

As the Toyota came to a screaming stop in the desert, I yanked my glittering scimitar out and pressed the blade flat against my passenger’s chest. It shredded his shirt into dust where the fabric touched the edge, and I was careful to keep it off his skin.

“Don’t,” I warned.

He did anyway, and the gunshot was deafening in the cab. Not for me, of course, my helmet filtered the light and sound out to a manageable level.

But everyone else was dazed as if he had set off a flashbang.

It made me shake my head. What idiot fires a .40 cal handgun in an enclosed vehicle?

The bullet punched into my belly and ripped through, blasting out the car seat and door behind me. I doubled up and grunted, but the painkiller from my starfish suit instantly made everything a million times better.

And honestly the gut-shot didn’t hurt nearly as bad as being violently consumed by a Sleem orb. The gray pre-dawn in the windshield twinkled as I looked up from my wound and faced the passenger again.

“I said don’t!”

His eyes gaped as he raised the gun and aimed it at my helmet before squeezing the trigger. The shot ricocheted and my head barely bobbed from the pressure. His friend behind him took the round in the leg and screamed in sudden pain.

I changed my grip on Falcor, and the man across from me was cut in half. He tried to scream, but my clean cut through his upper torso had ended his lungs as well.

He blinked hard twice, popped his lips together twice in the semblance of speech, and slumped to the side, dead. His blood spilled all over the cab and the upper portion of him fell over.

The idiot behind me started shooting next. Damn fool didn’t seem to understand the situation he’d gotten himself in.

He pressed the gun over my shoulder and fired three shots directly down into my chest. My tendrils were already almost done with the first wound, and several more arose as my cartoon starfish shook an annoyed limb at me on the hood of the truck.

I grunted and flinched at the gunshots, and then just tore Falcor all the way around behind me, in a single sweeping strike.

Sparks erupted from the backseat as it cut immediately through the seat back, the holstered guns, and both men in the backseat. Then I carefully pulled the sword back to the front seat and got out of the truck.

My starfish was hard at work, whirring and grinding up the bullets inside me with a horrid metallic sound. There was a slight spin down, the grinding done, then they erupted from the turbine in a spray of wet fragments.

Something good must have gotten fixed, because I was suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of it all. The stink of fresh blood in the air was heavy, and thick red liquid leaked out from the cab of the truck on both sides. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to stop breathing through my nose.

I really couldn’t. Instead I winced, surveying the mess before me, and I shook my head.

“Fucking idiots!” I roared at the car.

“I’ve been trying so fucking hard to keep everyone, fucking EVERYone alive. I’ve been minding my own business, surviving, trying to keep me and mine breathing. And what the hell happens? Turns out my boss is a fuckin’ idiot, Sleem are just caustic lumps of hungry dishonesty destroying my world and possibly the entire multiverse, other affiliates regularly murder and destroy each other for morties, the church that runs everything is basically just the mafia, and YOU fucking morons would rather see me dead than help each other stay alive!”

I only stopped raving because I needed to take a few breaths, but the sudden silence felt almost oppressive.

Then I heard a small sound behind me, from the back seat. Horror gripped me, and I yanked open the backdoor.

He was leaned over, his torso nearly separated just below the ribs. The man’s eyes were blank, unfocused, and blinking rhythmically, unaware of the flood of his own vital fluids on his overshirt and pants.

He was grunting, groaning, trying to hold his upper half in place with his grip on the seat back in front of him.

I screamed and thrust the tip of Falcor through his temple. Then I screamed again for good measure. It was a long scream, the sort of thing that told people to lay off and let me be.

I imagined that the sound of my voice was echoing through the desert, catching the attention of BuyMort monsters or other dumbass wanna-be murderers, and that shut me up.

Ducking through the doorway, I checked the other men, making sure they were dead. But a quick glance was enough. Falcor did its business well. The corpses it left made me sick.

Not sick enough to vomit, but sick, nonetheless. This weapon really did feel like magic.

I took a few steps away and breathed out the encounter, like Molls had showed me. It helped, surprisingly, right up until I heard rhythmic thumping in the near distance.

I turned and, through the truck’s passenger side windows, saw swarms of land wasps coming in my direction.

Chapter 11

“Oh, fuck me.”

I lunged for the truck, but it was far too late. I must have attracted them when I hit the brakes; there’s no way they came up that fast from my scream.

One of the land wasps hesitated as it came around the front end of the truck. It took a tiny fraction of a second to determine where I was, then lunged and slammed into the Toyota’s door.

I landed in the dirt, my breath knocked out, and the wasp was on me.

It didn’t try to sting me right away, which I thought odd until it grasped a mouthful of my side with its mandibles and tore it clear away. The ‘me’ meat was consumed immediately, slurping into a mouth hole hidden behind its mandibles.

The pain dazed me, and for a moment I simply stared at it.

The land wasp was roughly the size of a great cat, and its limbs alternated between trying to pin me down and holding itself steady on the ground. One of its sharp, pointed limbs punched into my thigh as it took its bite of me.

The painkiller surged higher, and the world took on a rosy glow.

I tightened my grip on Falcor again and swung it up. The wasp made a strange grunt as it was lopped cleanly in half, and I scrambled out from beneath it.

“Yet more damage detected, user! What would you do without me?”

The cartoon starfish began to dance again, as the suit got to work repairing me. I tried to get up and look at my most recent victim, but another wasp charged around from behind the car and tore a chunk out of my back, slamming me into the car door.

I gasped in effort and heaved back, knocking the wasp off me. With a roar of unrestrained anger, I fell on the creature and hacked it apart until the sword started throwing up chunks of asphalt and the earth beneath it.

Through the red haze of battle I managed to calm myself. In and out, like Molls said. Falcor rasped into its sheathe, and out came my shotgun.

The halves of the first wasp were still trying to move, and the front half had made some progress. It was circling to try and bite me again, clacking its mandibles at my legs.

The back half was hunching up and stinging nothing, forcing a glistening shard of pale, see-through yellow from the opening in its tail.

It was the size of a railroad spike and dripped clear fluid from its diamond shaped tip. Goddamn nightmare fuel, like some animal imported straight from Australia.

I frowned and racked a laser slug into the shotgun, before stomping on the wasp’s head and walking around the hood of the truck to face the rest of them. The first two had just been the forward scouts. I counted a dozen more charging at me over the open desert.

I took up position behind the truck and I started shooting.

Concentrated light erupted from the front of the Mossberg and sliced through chitin and legs before it blinked off. The two I hit didn’t scream or make much noise at all, aside from the thump of their legs and the clatter of their mandibles. They made just one single loud grunt, then started trying to drag themselves forward again with what they had left.

I had to give it to them — they were stubborn bastards.

The wasps at the front began to move in erratic formations, reacting to my first shot, and the next laser slug missed entirely.

I tried not to think about how many morties that round had cost me and racked another, sweeping it across the gathered horde as I fired.

That had the desired effect.

Several of them fell dead. Several more took their places, and the full charge crashed into me and the truck hard.

Metal cried as it warped and bent, glass broke, and wasps grunted.

I fired the shotgun from my hip and swung it to create a clear zone directly in front of me. The giant bugs stormed into it and burned.

And when the pulse faded, I racked the slide and fired again. The barrel of my shotgun glowed this time, and I scrambled back instead of firing it again. Even the slide was too hot to touch after that many rapid laser blasts, so I tossed the gun in the cab.

The Toyota was leaning, and with the weight of so many wasps on the other side, it was being pushed slowly across the road.

I could see them from where I’d hunched down, trying to shove their way inside and eat the human remains behind the windows.

More were scrambling to get around the back end, so I jumped into the cab and stomped on the accelerator.

Several wasps came with us as the truck jerked into motion, tires chirping on the blacktop. I crushed one but they continued charging, a flood of the damn things behind me on the road.

The seat beside me had fallen over and covered the worst of the corpse at my side, I noticed, as I left most of the wasps behind.

I peered at them in my rearview. They were not slow. I slowly gained speed and raced past thirty miles per hour before they finally started dropping back.

I leaned over to get a better look at the horde behind me and was surprised entirely when a stinger punched through the door and jammed itself into the side of my ass, directly below the hip.

I bellowed, the pain of the stinger much greater than simply its stab. My ass was on fire! I slammed my fist through the window and grabbed the wasp by its narrow midsection.

On the hood my cartoon starfish gyrated and danced. Underneath me, barbs sprung out from the stinger, thoroughly bursting my ass cheek. I could see my thigh began to rapidly swell and mottle.

I squeezed the wasp’s thorax in my hand and cry-laughed as it burst under my grip.

Eat it, monster.

Another wasp scuttled across the roof onto the hood, and I punched out, grabbing it and yanking it inside the truck. The wasp grunted, hard, and tore apart at the waist.

The stinger stayed in place, though, the rear end of the creature flopping against the side of the truck and tugging on it.

The top half of the wasp immediately began trying to bite me. Its mandibles clattered and scraped at my helmet, and I heaved my forearm up to keep it away from my chest and clear my line of sight.

The truck swerved and skittered across the road, but we stayed on blacktop, so I kept my foot down. There were hundreds behind me now, reinforcements swarming in from across the whole fucking desert apparently, and all focused on the truck.

What was left of the wasp in the cab with me still had limbs, and it heaved against the ceiling where I had it pinned, scuttling to the side. I swatted at it and it flopped out of the way, then began aggressively attacking half of a corpse instead of me.

I fumbled for my shotgun and rested it across the forearm I was driving with as the second wasp lunged to the open driver’s side window.

When I squeezed the trigger, the still glowing barrel slagged and spattered liquid steel directly into the wasp’s lunging mouth. The laser beam quickly ate through the metal and bored a hole through the creature to finish the job.

I swore and dropped what was left of my poor shotgun on the passenger side floor.

The starfish suit had several tendrils going, and the cartoon was congratulating me on a job well done managing my charge with the incoming damage.

I groaned as it slid a shard of glass out of the webbing between my fingers, then sighed as it sealed the wound with a quick blast of flesh-foam and a laser weld. Grabbing the .40 caliber pistol the dead man beside me had dropped, I blasted the rest of the wasp until it stopped twitching.

As the suit fixed my burnt arm, I swapped driving arms and reached out the window to grab the flopping thorax. I fit my hand around it at the base of the stinger and yanked as hard as I could. It tore free as dawn peeked over the horizon, and my curse of pain and anger seemed to summon color to the sky.

The walled compound was right ahead, just off the road. The gates were not opening, and I made the quick decision not to ram them.

Flashing my headlights, and honking the horn, I let off the gas.

The wasps began catching up almost immediately. They had fallen back, but not lost sight of me at all. A cloud of dust rose into the dawn sky behind them, glittering in the new light.

I hit the brakes hard again and aimed the front end into the little corner of the main gate and its shack.

Some protection was better than nothing, I figured.

The truck slid to a stop, bumping the gate lightly, and I ducked, covering my head with my arms.

A laser welded at the wound on my horribly swelling thigh, carving away tissue to excise the venom in the area, and then following behind it with new flesh-foam to fill in the gaps. I watched it work for a few seconds, hearing the approaching roar, and then they hit me.

Hundreds of wasps charged into the shed, smashing the wood and deflecting to rattle and bang off the side of the truck. I heard them do their damage grunts as they hit the wall and within the next second, the sound of those grunts was all I could hear, as they rammed into one another, the truck, the gate, and the walls all around me.

Then a voice cut through.

“—to keep ‘em off the walls anyway, get ‘em off that poor soul!” shouted Lee, from somewhere above me.

The air filled with the sounds of suppressed gunfire; the wasps struggling and scrambling to climb in the truck's many broken windows all started to grunt simultaneously.

Bullets rained down and peppered the area, disrupting the incoming swarm and killing dozens of wasps. Each went down with an extremely similar grunt, and in spite of myself, I started laughing.

The starfish suit finished its job on my hip and gave me a cartoon thumbs up before swirling into nothing. I looked down at my exposed new butt cheek and sighed.

The wasps were still grunting, but it was getting further and further away, and the suppressed gunfire became more sporadic as the rumble in the ground receded.

I took a breath and shoved open my warped door, stepping out and raising my hands to pull my helmet off.

“Hi there Lee!” I shouted up to the familiar face.

“Tyson?” he asked. “Hell of an entrance son, gotta thank you for not ramming our gate.” Under his breath I heard him mutter, “What the hell is he wearing?”

“Oh, I figured you’d help me out Lee, and thanks for that, by the way.” I waved at him on top of the gate and then stared at the dead bodies in my truck. “Lee, I think you and I should have a talk. Bring some hobbs.”

A few moments later, Lee stood with his three best hobbs and stared in the car with me. “Militia, you said?”

“Yeah, I think it’s what’s left of the local chapter. Can’t remember their name, but it was something dumb.”

I shifted my helmet to the other armpit.

“The Arms Keepers,” he muttered while leaning in and grimacing.

His hobbs had my weapons again, and one of them was idly holding his rifle at a ready position near me.

“They used to swing by and bully us some when we were first breaking ground here. Called us a bunch of tree huggers and every other word they could think of to detract from our character. More often drunk than not.”

“Anyway, I’m sorry to show you this gruesome shit, Lee. I just wanted to be upfront with you. These guys were definitely there to kill me and disrupt my affiliate enough for the Dearth Conglomerate to move in. They’ve tried it before, and I saw them in the first convoy when they tried to strongarm us.”

I shrugged.

“Guess they became the errand boys of the apocalypse. Watch out for ‘em. They’ll probably be coming for you soon too if there’s any of ‘em left. They keep getting themselves killed in less than stellar ways.”

Lee fixed me with his gaze as I stood in his lot, hands on my hips. “Tyson, if you don’t mind a frank question, why is your ass cheek exposed in such a manner?”

“Oh, uh.” I glanced down and nodded. “Right, yeah, my suit cuts away my clothes anytime I get hurt, and I just can’t be bothered to keep buying new clothes.”

I tried folding the robe over the gap, but it didn’t have enough material and came loose.

“So, here’s the thing. I kind of adopted a policy of not buying clothing anymore. Just gonna wear what I find.”

I pointed at the truck.

“BuyMort, I’d like to sell all the dead humans and their clothing. Except don’t sell any intact holsters. Also sell the broken front seat, and any broken glass fragments in this cabin.”

Lee narrowed his eyes at me.

“Look, I need the truck. And the morties. Not proud of it, but it solves two problems at the same time.”

“Why don’t I buy you some trousers, at the least?” Lee offered with a sigh. “To spare the children, at the least.”

I chuckled and thanked him. Within a few minutes, a pod arrived and scanned me before warping in a package. Inside was a plain set of blue jeans, exactly my size. With its arrival came a single ad.

You just got a gift. Are you a good person who would like to thank your benefactor? Get them a Thank You Card. 3D dancing animations that dance in the subconscious of your mind. 15 morties, 3 stars.

I almost laughed out loud at that. I bet these cerebral thank you cards were annoying as hell. I bookmarked the ad for further consideration, thinking that they might have wonderful military applications for the future.

I grabbed up the pair of pants, tugged them on under the robe and nodded at Lee. He nodded back, furrows of deep concern on his forehead.

One of the hobbs near Lee leaned in and muttered something to him. “Yes, yes, fine. We should get inside. The wasps may return. They’re thickest in the early morning. More of them today, strange.”

Two of the hobbs escorted Lee through the gate, and kept it open for the truck to roll in. Thankfully, nobody was in the main courtyard to see the bug bits and human remains, and the BuyMort pod arrived shortly after I parked again.

It scanned the truck and then began warping sections from inside the cabin.

Purchase: Biological remains. Human, Nu-Earth. Rarity, unique. Quality, poor. 2,308 morties dispensed.

Purchase: Biological remains. Human, Nu-Earth. Rarity, unique. Quality, poor. 2,143 morties dispensed.

Purchase: Biological remains. Human, Nu-Earth. Rarity, unique. Quality, terrible. 1,558 morties dispensed.

The clothing scraps brought in a negligible amount, but I was happy to take it anyway. All directly to my personal account.

I mean, I didn’t really want to fill the affiliates books with dead bodies. Who knew if BuyMort kept record of that sort of thing, or how people would take it if it did.

The slashed in half car seat and glass fragments got me a few morties too, but I ignored the smaller stuff. It was mostly about getting the truck cleaned up enough to use for groceries.

Lee still looked uncomfortable, but he was much less tense with the bodies gone and me in some pants.

I stood in his courtyard and looked up at the gate. Several gun emplacements were spread along the walls, each with long barreled weapons still smoking, and ammunition belts feeding up to them.

I couldn’t identify the guns, but they seemed to fire slower, and use more powerful rounds, specifically for the wasps. Looked impressive. I mentally ticked up my estimate of Lee and his affiliate in my mind.

“How’d you kill those men like that, Tyson?” Lee finally grumbled. It was just him, me, and his best armored hobb, still cradling that rifle.

I pointed to my sword, hung at the hobb’s waist. “BuyMort claims that’s a magic sword. Bought it last night, and I gotta say I’m starting to believe the claim of magic. It was fast,” I lied, thinking about the last man again with a blink.

“And you say they shot you?” He asked as we walked.

The hobb followed at a safe distance, putting himself at an angle with line of sight to me, but looking away for my privacy. My uniform in the apocalypse was rapidly becoming a pair of jeans with no underwear, an open jacket, and a helmet.

“Yeah, Lee. I have an open-door policy at the camp, and they were trying to take advantage. Use that to slip in, since my hobbs have orders to let people keep their weapons, so long as they’re not an obvious threat to anyone else.”

“I baited ‘em to come with me, since I knew they’d get violent at the first opportunity, and then tried to talk ‘em out of it. When they didn’t listen, I did what I had to, just to get ‘em to stop shooting.”

I finished, keeping pace as we walked. I recalled that I wasn’t certain the man in the rear passenger side seat had ever fired a shot, before pushing the thought away.

Too late to not cut him in half now.

Lee was nodding, forehead still furrowed. “Well, that suit of yours sure is handy. The wasps stung you up too?”

I patted the side of my rump. “Oh yeah, really good. Those stingers are huge, and the swelling was insane.”

“The hobbs eat ‘em, at least. Seem to enjoy it, too. I can have my crew butcher some of ‘em for you, minimal fee.” He muttered. “We’ll sell the rest to BuyMort, at least it’s good for cleaning up the messes it causes.”

I blinked at him and chuckled. “I’m glad to hear you lay the blame where it belongs, Lee. Our priest is working hard to convert me.” She really wasn’t, but her defense of BuyMort felt close enough to count, for me.

“Oh, ours mostly keeps to themselves. Suzanne talks to her on occasion, but they’re very shy of the outside. Seems to be quite old, as well.” Lee stroked his mustache as he talked. Then he snapped his fingers. “You’re probably here for another load of groceries, huh?”

I nodded. “Can pay some morties, assuming the price isn’t too astronomical.”

Lee nodded back and gestured for me to follow as we changed direction toward his place. “Well, the wasps are dirt cheap, I’d only charge you for the time. My hobbs here go nuts for ‘em, they seem to like most any of the BuyMort bugs for sustenance.”

“I have a lot of hobbs at the camp, so a healthy portion of that would be great. Enough to last a few days, for a few dozen hobbs, maybe?” I asked him, eyebrows raised hopefully.

“Oh sure, sure. No sweat off my nose. There’s plenty for both of us, you brought a horde of breakfast right to our front gate.” Once we reached the center of the open area, he cupped his hands to this mouth. “It’s all right, everyone, the wasps are gone!”

At his shout, several doors and windows moved. A handful of people emerged to get to work. Some were sipping coffee, but all were already dressed. I assumed they had been working before dawn and took shelter when the wasps came.

Workers hesitated when they saw the truck they were meant to be loading, but once they overcame the wasp stains and massive amount of physical damage to the body, the work progressed easily.

As Lee led me away, they were already staging more baskets of fruit and vegetables, and a hobb wearing a stained apron had started sharpening a set of strange knives behind a table. The curves and edges on them were all wrong, and each knife’s hilt had a thick meat tenderizer club built into the handle.

I saw what it was good for as the first section of wasp body was delivered to the hobb’s table. He selected a knife carefully, running his hand over the selection until the right one was beneath it.

Then he bashed the chitin with the butt of the knife and started carving away at the inside with the blade. Within seconds, he had an entire thorax out of its chitin shell, and was carving at the white flesh, digging out organs and working his way around the stinger.

The hobb looked bored, but focused. As if this was something extremely ordinary, and the only thing he needed to pay close attention to was the fact that he was working with sharp utensils. More wasp parts started piling up beside the table as he rapidly butchered.

“That reminds me. Tyson, can I talk to you for a second outside of prying ears?”

His eyes pinned me with a look of concern, and I didn’t hesitate. “Yeah sure, lets head over by the wall. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

We headed over, walking until we were sure that we were out of earshot, then he stood and looked me in the eyes.

“I’ve been hearing some gossip. People been talking and I don’t know who heard from where or any of that, but what I’ve been hearing is concerning. Your boss, Mr. Sada. Did he sell out a big chunk of your spider forest? Eggs, spiders, and all?”

I stared. It wasn’t anything that I had been expecting. Not here.

He nodded, the answer written all over my face.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Tyson, I know us humans are dwindling. But times are tough. The old days are gone. This is apocalypse. People keep dying because they aren’t being smart, or they aren’t keeping together in groups. Or,” he pointed a finger at my chest, “they aren’t cutting out dangerous dead weight. Which Mr. Sada is. He might as well be a Sleem at this point.”

My head was reeling. It wasn’t that I didn’t know this, or that I didn’t have the guts to take care of things.

It was so much more.

And people just kept on telling me to kill the bastard off. My answer was burning in my chest, a story that I’d been planning to keep with me into the grave.

And now, I just needed it said. I needed at least one other person to know. And why not my ally?

“I can't. For all of this shitty-shit that he has done, I wouldn't be around today if he hadn't taken me in way back when."

I shifted, my eyes turning down to look at the dirt.

"I was out of money, I didn’t have food. I kept applying for programs and government assistance, getting red tape and refusals in return. Maybe there was something I could have done but I don't know what because no one would hire me and none of the programs would accept me. Too many bad references, not enough credit, failure on every fucking employer-given personality test that you can imagine.”

A hand touched my shoulder and I looked back up, into the friendly face of Lee.

“I stumbled into the campgrounds a starving and pathetic mess. A man with no home. On my last legs really. Even had the first stages of scurvy because of my shit diet."

"I came to the campgrounds, found a lot, and curled up to die. I don't know how actually close to death I was, but it felt inevitable. And he swung through, woke me up, asked me a bunch of questions.”

I paused but Lee nodded, his kind eyes spurning me on to go further.

“The next thing you know I was in his house at the table eating up mounds of food. After that I was in a hot shower. And after that I was in some oversized but clean clothes. And after that I had a job and a tent. One that I was able to change into a trailer after I made enough money to afford a loan."

I saw Lee's look and I put up my hands in front of me.

"It was a loan, not a payday like what had sunk me before. A real honest loan. As honest as they can be anyways.”

It felt good to say it all. Cathartic.

"That's the thing about Mister Sada. He is foolish, sometimes he is strange, often he is selfish. But he is also human. He isn't the kind of guy that threw money in-between bums to see them fight. He wasn't the sort of person who used his wealth to bankrupt others in order to get a good deal on purchasing their stuff.”

I hesitated, completely unsure of how to continue. But feelings coursed through me, and the words came, bright as day.

“There are so many people on this planet that are much worse than he is. People who would have shrugged me off as a lazy asshole and left me to die. Or had me locked up in jail, then considered themselves a saint for doing so.”

Lee blanched. "That's one hell of a story, Tyson. I think I can understand it. But you should understand something too. Maybe he gave you your life back, but he's taking that away from you now. He's messing everything up. And he's treating you like shit while he does it."

I was silent. They weren't the kind of thoughts that I came up with on my own, if I'm honest with myself.

I thought about it. The way he called me son was reminiscent of fucking Jim Crow when all was said and done. I wasn't his slave or servant. But at the same time, he saved my life!

Fucking hell. None of this was easy

"Just some advice," Lee said, his eyes wide open and earnest. "I'm never going to tell you what to do, Tyson, or what to think. And on that note let's move on. You've got enough stuff to think about and I've got a belly whining for food. Did you have breakfast yet, Tyson? Suzanne was cookin’ up a storm when I left, she’ll be about done now.”

I nodded and thanked him, turning to follow.

Chapter 12

We walked up to his house and entered through the sweltering greenhouse again. The doorway to the interior opened up onto comfortably warm air and the smell of a hearty breakfast cooking.

And the kitchen was downright homey. An assortment of dishes were set out onto old-timey counters, the air wavy with the heat of several burners and the oven going at the same time. Suzanne was moving between each, the off-yellow wallpaper of the place outlining her perfectly as she checked or changed their contents.

As we entered, she lifted a pan off the stove and turned to smile, holding it far away so Lee could lean in and give her a peck on the lips. “Oh Lee, good, just in time. They’re starting to get done, help me pack.”

Lee hopped to, hustling over to the sink to wash his hands, before joining her at the counter. Between them they made several breakfast sandwiches, with plenty of fried egg, fresh sauteed spinach, and what looked like thick slices of sausage.

Each sandwich was a little different, and some were made from a carton of egg replacement instead of eggs cracked into a pan. Some used the telltale dense brick structure of gluten-free bread, some were on seed filled wheat, and some on plain white. All of it promised delicious and wonderful fare.

By the time their flurry of movement and coordination had completed, there were over two dozen breakfast sandwiches made, cut in half, wrapped in wax paper, and carefully placed in brown paper bags.

I applauded as the last bag was completed, and both of the adorable old hippies turned to bow at me, huge smiles on their faces.

“That was impressive! Is that breakfast for the compound?” I asked, leaning forward at their table.

Suzanne nodded to me and wiped her hands on her apron. “Yes indeed! Well, not all the compound, just the morning workers. The poor dears get up so awfully early, we make breakfast so they can eat on shift and not lose sleep making it themselves.”

Lee leaned over and gave her another peck on the cheek.

“Suzanne, hun? Why don’t you make a little something for the three of us now? I’ll get these to the crew,” he said with a gentle smile. He returned to his counter and began marking the bags with names in sharpie.

Suzanne returned to her ingredients and cookery, and the kitchen began to smell amazing all over again. She cooked, she hummed and swayed, and Lee packed a jute shoulder bag with sandwiches.

Once his bag was full, he squeezed Suzanne’s arm, and nodded at me. At that moment, as he was about to leave me alone in a room with his wife, I saw his expression change.

It was slight, just a twitch of his mustache, really. But it was enough. In response, I stood and reached out a hand.

“Lee, why don’t you tell me who to run that out to? Least I can do for the free meal, it’s cold out there.”

The relief on his face was palpable. He handed the bag over at once and nodded.

“Look for the fella with the big straw hat. He’s our foreman. Name is Duncan. They’ll be expecting you, don’t worry.”

He turned back to Suzanne, but then snapped his fingers and turned around again. Once he had taken four oversized oranges and an entire bunch of bananas out of the huge fruit bowl on his table and added them to the bag, he sent me on my way.

I saw the oversized straw hat almost the moment I started looking for it. With the morning settling in, the workers and hillside growing areas were starting to get hit with some sun, so the hats made sense. Most of the workers wore simple canvas hats, or baseball caps. But Duncan wore an oversized, bowl-shaped farming hat, made of woven straw and strapped under his chin.

He stood with a smile as I approached and noticed the bag at my side. I raised it and returned his smile, and he dusted his hands off. “Breakfast is here y’all!”

Several in the area voiced excitement, and the human workers all over the compound began to head toward us. I handed the bag over and shook his hand, before watching as the various workers all came around and grabbed their sandwiches.

Every walk of life except high level corporate seemed to be represented among Lee’s people. A young girl who looked like a runaway sat down with an older couple at a nearby bench to eat their sandwiches, and three large middle aged men carrying digging tools took the spot opposite them.

Small groups filtered away, each gripping a paper bag. Several also carried fruit. The older couple and the young girl shared one of the oranges, and several folks retreated with a paper bag and banana.

It struck me, as I watched, that Lee and Suzanne were feeding their people in a much better way than I was.

Even down at the truck, the hobb running his butcher shack was handing out great hunks of blubbery looking wasp meat, and a handful of small barbeque grills nearby sizzled with it.

I heard laughter, and bubbles of conversation all around the compound. Even their hobbs looked like they were having fun with the impromptu wasp BBQ. There was a lesson here. One that I needed to take to heart for my own compound.

Morale mattered.

I logged the memory away as important, climbing back up the hill to their home. I was honestly looking forward to spending time with the sweet couple. Lee and Suzanne made things feel alright, like it hadn’t all gone to hell in a handbasket.

Thinking ahead to all I planned on doing, I realized this was likely to be the happiest, most peaceful part of my day.

On the way in, I sat down on a bench to appreciate the tropical orchard for a few minutes. It was cooler than during the day, but the residual heat was still sweltering.

Molls would love a room like this, I thought.

Dawn rise was still coloring the sky beyond the glass dome, and blue was starting to chase it as I sat and stared at the desert sky. When Lee came and found me a few minutes later, I was glazed over, just staring into the distance.

“Hey, you alright there? Breakfast get dispensed alright?” He leaned over me, tapping me lightly on the shoulder.

I snapped out of my daze and nodded, slapping a tight, artificial smile on my face. “Yeah. Sorry. Just stopped to watch the sunrise a little.”

“It is a sight, isn’t it?” Lee climbed over the back of the bench and sat beside me. “You looked a million miles away though. You alright, there, Tyson?”

I shrugged. “Killed three men today. Couple aliens the night before last. Whole buncha those Sleem things last night. Not sure if they count much.” I sighed and leaned forward on my knees. “Just a lot of stuff trying to kill me. Getting kind of old.”

Lee nodded slowly. “Seems rough out there. You look plum torn up.”

I glanced at my bloody robe, already filled with holes from the bullets and wasps and a laugh escaped me.

“Ha! Yeah, I guess so. Breakfast sounds amazing though.” This time my smile was genuine. Lee returned it and we went inside to eat.

The meal Suzanne had prepared was simple, but delicious. Fried eggs with sauteed spinach, thick slices of home ground sausage, and fresh toast. My favorite bread too, it felt like home for a while. Suzanne even made coffee, and I enjoyed my second cup of the day.

We talked about the Sleem, about how to fight them, how to secure against them. There had been some sightings, just a handful of oozes here and there. I warned them that was how it started for us too and explained the size of my own infestation.

We went over how I had become trapped down there, the ship and how they had been using it, and how rapidly they were breeding. Lee and Suzanne both agreed that it was a priority to defend against. It was a productive conversation among tactical allies.

Lee told me everything he knew about the wasps. Turns out, their name is yarsps, and they tasted similar to a white fish mixed with pork bacon.

Completely safe for human consumption. Decent source of protein and a surprising amount of minerals too.

He told me there was a hive of the things somewhere in the nearby mountain range, and when they were most active. Disturbingly, he told me they had been tracking a growth trend in the local population.

Every day there were significantly more of them swarming from the hills.

At the end of the meal, Suzanne got started cleaning up the kitchen while Lee spoke to some of his staff and tallied up my bill. The pickup was capable of holding a lot of food, even in its banged-up condition, and they had stuffed it for me.

The cab was filled to bursting with jute bags and hand-woven oversized baskets, all filled with fresh produce. In the bed, they had layered packages of butchered wasp meat in huge bricks, wrapped in tarps that Lee made me promise to return the next trip out.

On top of those were more giant baskets. I was informed I needed to return those as well, in order to keep making runs like this.

My bill ended up coming to a total of four-hundred-thousand morties, roughly. It was a little over, because I ended up getting a jute bag of their specialty peanut butter on top of everything else. Lee assured me I was getting a friend of the affiliate rate, and we shook hands on it after I transferred over the morties.

As I was getting in the cab of the truck, Lee leaned in to close my door. “Ya know, those BuyMort priests are spiritual guides. Suzanne talks about the conversations she has with ours. Maybe you could . . . talk to yours?”

I smiled and nodded. “She’s helping. As will this load of food, thank you Lee. Thank you everyone.”

I said the last to the gathered workers, trying to look as many of them in the eye as I could. Lee nodded and patted my ruined door, and I slipped my helmet back on for the road trip home.

The HUD spun up as I was turning the truck in a tight circle to leave, and then I was driving home, trying to avoid wasps.

Three separate times my helmet warned me there was a group nearby. Each time a quiet off-road detour to give them space was the key.

If you didn’t get too close, they seemed to just not realize you were there. I tucked that away for future reference, and to tell Lee, as I approached the side gate to the campground.

It had become a complicated affair. We had a huge metal gate facing the road, but once you were through that gate, you had to wait for the other gate to open.

And because of the way the gobbs installed the power system for the gates, it would only open or close one of them at a time.

I waited for the gate behind me to cycle closed, I typed up a search for better gate systems and then saved it to my Upgreyedds list for later.

As I drove in, I saw people.

Movement, and life.

Molls was out with Phyllis, and Doofus was on the deck between them, happily thumping his tail. They were watching some new people set up a tent nearby while having tea, and Phyllis was smoking a joint, of course.

I waved as I went past. Both women waved back, and Doofus woofed, leaning to stare after me while he decided whether or not to follow. Laziness and comfort won out, as he flopped back to get a tummy rub from Molls.

This side of the compound practically crawled with hobbs. I counted at least two dozen wearing regular clothing, let alone the dozen in armor manning gates and patrolling the parts of the camp we suspected the Sleem could access. Several of them raised a fist to their chest as I passed, and I waved in reply.

Rayna hadn’t been kidding about bringing in more people. Well, good. More people meant more of a chance to survive the next few days. Things seemed to be escalating at that point, in the Arizona desert. The campground still had a ton of open space left too, so I wasn’t worried about the new people much.

I pulled the beat-to-hell truck into the parking lot and killed the ignition, before getting out. Rayna had been waiting for me and was walking over from the gate, with some hobbs in tow. She raised a chin at me when she entered the parking lot, and then did that fist to chest salute.

I just nodded in reply and kept my helmet on, bending to strap on my new .40 caliber pistol. The militia had me a little paranoid, and I didn’t want to find out what a .308 round through the head would do to me with this starfish suit on.

Rayna dropped a bag of pumpkin seeds on the hood as she approached, which I happily tucked into my grenade bag as I got out.

“Breakfast is served.” I swept an arm at the overfilled truck, as several hobbs got to work unloading it.

Rayna nodded. “Good. Need water, now.”

“Now, now? Is something on fire?” I hesitated.

The tall hobb shook her head. “No, just need water. Sada not letting anyone use his anymore. More people now.”

I sighed and put my hands on my hips. I was really not looking forward to talking to him that day.

“Right. We need our own source anyway, his was never going to last. I’ll take care of that first thing, after we’re done here.” With that, I looked to her for more.

She nodded at my helmet. “Right. All families and extensions of BlueCleave here now. There more, like Tribe RedTeeth, tribes on other worlds. Plenty hobbs who would join place like this. But this my whole tribe. They listen to me, so they listen to you.”

“Thank you, Rayna, I will respect your authority over them, and try not to boss anyone around too much.” I answered. “Anything else that needs to be taken care of today? I want to get everything started before we tackle the Sleem again.”

“Need buildings,” she said with a shrug. “Storage for food at least. Need homes soon too. Tents okay, but days hot and nights cold. Water, food, power. All needed. For start.”

Also all on my Afflqwst list.

I blinked inside the helmet. Yeah, that made sense. This place had always been something I neglected to care about, and now that I suddenly did, it was like I was seeing a totally different place.

The old sites, with their mud-crete caps over the septic covers, looked like new plots of land. Someplace for houses, or even larger buildings.

“Power I can help with right away, hold on.”

I pulled up BuyMort and asked it for a solar power supply. It shot out a million results and I slowly and methodically waved away the elements that weren’t right.

After just a few minutes of browsing, I had it narrowed to a handful.

Wind/Air Sustainable — Energy from the bounty of natural phenomenon! Always have power with this bad boy, the perfect generator for sites off the grid.

Wind/Air Sustainable is a stationary power plant capable of tremendous solar harvest in dusty desert environs, side mounted with wind turbines and with a battery rack capable of saving up to three days’ worth of energy storage. Keep your affiliate in the running with Wind/Air Sustainable.

500,037,002 morties. 4.7 stars.

Honestly it looked like a great system. But it wasn’t mobile. It was something that, someday, I could see using for a city. But not for the miserable little camp we had now. I dismissed it.

CUBE — CUBE ALWAYS WANTS MORE ENERGY.

NEEDS MORE ENERGY.

DO NOT DEFY CUBE.

CUBE FITS IN POCKET, DEVOURS SOLAR ENERGY, RADIATES HOLY POWER FOR MACHINES. CUBE IS YOUR FRIEND. CUBE IS YOUR KING.

ALL HAIL CUBE!

45,000 morties. 4.1 stars.

It was a fraction of the price the Wind/Air Sustainable was, but honestly it sounded so much more powerful.

However, and I can’t emphasize this enough, it sounded creepy as all hell.

Was it a living being? Some sort of strange automaton? What happened if I defied CUBE?

I decided it was probably better to not find out. I waved it away.

Solarfly! — They spin, they sparkle, they solar fly!

Start with a handful of self-replicating nano-bots, target your nearest vacuum-based atmospheric mass, then watch them via your customizable Solarfly video view as they reduce said mass into more Solarfly nanobots.

Make as many as you need, then send them to work around the nearest solar mass. They will catch and beam their energy direct to your Solarfly! Receiving Station.

Energy problems no more!

9,000,000,000,000,000,000 morties. 4.1 stars.

The power stats that ran in red numbers alongside the animations of this cloud of particles eating an asteroid belt and then fluttering over to form a ring around the sun — that was amazing. It promised the potential to constantly expand energy production, so long as I kept buying energy receptacles to catch the energy beams that would be funneled to them.

But it was also terrifying. They worked in the vacuum of space and couldn’t operate in thick atmosphere. I understood quite quickly how that could be weaponized and used to greatly disturb other habitable systems.

I bookmarked it, but grudgingly. It wasn’t something that I could afford right now, or even needed. And at that point, I honestly didn’t even know the number for its price tag.

Zillions?

A number so massive it lost all meaning. But, in the future . . . I had started to get the feeling that things were going to get a lot bigger.

Solar-sling, the Sassiest Solar Collector around —

Always on the run? Let Solar-sling tag along. This powerful mobile solar plant  and battery combo is perfect for the early days of BuyMort Shoppening, or for fun glamping nights to other worlds.

Simple to set up, simple to operate, so simple even a Sleem could run it!

45,000 morties, 4.9 stars

When I tagged Solar-sling, I already had the suspicion that I was going to end up buying it. It was expensive for its size, but to be honest prices fluctuated so hard, back and forth, on seemingly everything.

It was exactly what I needed for now.

Maybe later, when or if things settled down and became safe, I could afford to stay still. But for now, basic power attached to easy mobility seemed like the right direction to go.

It was the kind of thing that would become immediately useful, and the operations account was flush thanks to Mr. Sada selling all our spiders.

Well, most of our spiders.

We waited and Rayna grumble-chatted with me about the camp. People were nervous and didn’t think much of our setup so far. The hobbs liked it better than Storage, of course, but Storage was rock bottom. That place felt like a high-tech Lord of the Flies. You could only climb up from there.

And that’s only if you kept your legs.

Addressing some of these initial issues and getting some creature comforts in place would really solve a lot of morale problems. I focused on making the hobbs happy first.

Once my package arrived, I cut the flesh tape and tossed it onto the ground, to jiggle and begin rotting. We pulled out the generator and got it set up, and the little pole extended into the air so delicately that it made me smile.

It was a simple thing, even looked like a portable generator.

The major differences were the myriad plug options, and the solar panel sail. The pole raised high overhead, about a dozen feet. Then a golden sail unfurled and puffed up in the morning sun.

I left Rayna with instructions to inform everyone that they could charge their devices from it during the day, but the hobbs had ultimate control of where it was needed and used.

Next, I took care of the water situation. That involved a lot of questions to Rayna about our needs, and the slow but certain realization that there was no easy, cheap solution for this problem.

I sighed and jumped back into BuyMort.

Alright you bastard of a system, what have you got in the way of giving me good, clean water?

A number of service organizations popped up and I rolled through them. I wanted a responsible price, prompt service, and I wanted to meet more local humans if possible. So I narrowed my search parameters, looking for an Earth-based water delivery service that existed here on our Earth in our dimension.

And I breathed a sigh of relief when a number of them popped up.

I think I’d been afraid that, with all of the dying going on around here, there would just be one.

Not only were there quite a few of them, water being a rather easy-to-sell commodity, there was one here in Arizona!

Owl City Water Services — Cool and mountain fresh, our water is not just clean and pure, it comes in different varieties!

High purity, mineral-enhanced, alkaline, alkaline-iodized, distilled, bottled, we do it all. Delivery via BuyMort pods, be sure to leave us a good service review.

I liked that ad. As the text had scrolled and the words had swung by, the words had been read in a plain and honest voice. A voice that, at some point, I’d like to meet. I decided I’d go ahead and set up a single delivery.

But just for the moment.

See, they would also charge far more than we could ever sustain. The rates were variable but, to be honest, for the number of people that were living and working here now, I had enough in my affiliate spending account for a week’s worth of the cheapest version of that service.

Water was big business.

I used the affiliate page to buy the shipment and tagged Rayna as the delivery’s recipient. The pod would go to her to drop it off.

Then I started looking for auto-digging-wells. That became frustrating quickly, primarily because I realized there was simply no way I was getting any kind of well for this place without it costing millions of morties.

I had twenty-two million left in the affiliate’s general account, and food had cost almost half a mill already.

I was going to need another shipment of that soon. Maybe we could start gathering our own wasp meat, but the cost on that had been minimal anyway. I needed to get something growing out here, which meant a more robust well system.

Even something small, just enough drinking water for a small group, would cost at least three million. The parts for a well were cheap enough, but we didn’t have the ability or time to get something like that dug.

Automatic diggers that would convert into source side pumps existed. As did bizarre machines that you just fed pipe into until it stopped spitting dirt and started spitting water. But none of them was comfortably affordable.

As Rayna and I talked about it, a sudden realization gave me an unconscious chill. I was going to have to visit Clippy again.

I sat down on the pavement in the parking lot and shrugged when Rayna gave me a strange look. She agreed to guard me while I dove in, though, and I leaned back against the truck tire to relax. Then I swiped up the ad helper and dove in.

The ad space rose up around me and my consciousness settled in beside Clippy.

Chapter 13

The anthropomorphic paperclip was peering at me from the other side of his orb, as if nervous. When I blinked and nodded at him, he vaulted over the orb and approached me rapidly.

“Oh, hello again! I hope you have a task for me to assist you with,” he exclaimed. His voice was as eager as ever, and the sheer weight of the construct’s consciousness was just as disturbing.

I sighed and nodded, putting on my most patient smile for Clippy. Whatever he was, it wasn’t a cartoon paperclip. The thing behind the curtain, so to speak, felt significantly larger and more frightening.

But, for the moment, it was on my side and wanted to help me. So, I dug right in.

“Clippy, I need help with a complex task,” I said.

The paperclip spun in the air and clasped his hands in front of himself, eager. “Oh, those are my very favorite! What complex task can I help you with today?”

I winced at his proximity and the sharpness of his voice as he whirled in a tight circle in the air above my head, sending screens of ads flitting and bouncing around the chamber. This time I remembered to make my goal broad, but specific in nature.

“Right, Clippy. Here it is. I need to secure a water supply for the people at my campground. The aquifer underneath us would be ideal, but I’m open to suggestions.” I finished and shrugged.

Clippy watched intently as I spoke, and the instant I finished he swept back across the void to his orb. Earth appeared in it, then Arizona, then the campground, the underground base filled with Sleem, and finally the lake, deep beneath us. Clippy stared into his orb as the image dissolved.

Ads began to stream past him, and he flicked some of them away.

“No, no, no, NO!”

Clippy spoke to himself as he parsed through the contents of his orb, nearly becoming upset with excitement.

“No products at all, we need services. Yes, that’s how to help with this task, by finding a direct helper for multiple tasks! WHEEEE!”

He suddenly abandoned the orb and swung in an erratic circle near the ceiling before returning to the orb and flicking an ad at me.

In the instant before it began playing, I got a good look at the frozen image on screen. A humanoid canid creature was staring at the camera with an eyebrow raised. He had dusky orange and black striped fur, a long neck, and a raised ridge of striped fur running down his spine.

Then it started playing.

“Go? Okay, cool. Check it out everyone!”

The creature swept a burly arm over a nearby railing.

“This entire complex has been built from the ground up using the expertise and management skills of the Knowles. Don’t believe Dearth when they claim they did it all without Knowle help, it's Sleem-shit! This Nu-Earth Arizona desert is tricky to work. Dearth would be lost and starving without us Knowles.”

As he spoke, the camera jostled and moved up to the railing. It swept slowly over an impressive field of crops underneath greenhouse domes. There was a central water pump system, with pipes leading to each of the greenhouses. Several mud-crete buildings dotted the area, populated with workers and guards.

A female version of the growly voice sounded from behind the camera. “Yeah, you tell ‘em baby.”

The camera focused on the male again.

“If you need help managing your plot of land, and building it into what it could be, you need a Knowle.”

The male Knowle nodded and bared his teeth in a grin. “For planning and management, don’t accept Knowle replacement.”

The female behind the camera giggled again, a throaty growl of a sound, and then the ad switched to a black screen filled with scrolling text.

— URBAN MANAGEMENT

— URBAN ENFORCEMENT

— TACTICAL DEFENSE

— WATER ACQUISITION

— WATER MANAGEMENT

— WASTE MANAGEMENT

— CROP MANAGEMENT

— MORALE SERVICES

— CENTRAL BANKING/AFFILIATE SCRIP

— AND MANY MORE

The services of this creature were quite broad. And, if i was being honest with myself, necessary. I was running this thing pretty much on my own, with the occasional bit of advice from Molls or Rayna, but there was so much that I didn’t know.

And there was water. So many water services. Water was key, and the ad suggested they were ready and willing to start that very day.

It felt a little bit like they may have made enemies with the Dearth Conglomerate, based on the way they were talking in the video.

As the ad ended, I saw Clippy hovering directly over me and flinched away. He zoomed back. “Oooo! Did I help you with your task?!”

I blinked and nodded. “Actually, yeah Clippy, you really did. I’m going to use this one. You got it right on the first try, good work!”

His cartoon eyes shot wide, and the paperclip zoomed in a quick circle around his orb in excitement. He was building a high-pitched sound when I left, it felt better not to be there for what it was going to grow into.

The VR space collapsed around me, and I was back in Arizona, with the Knowles contact info up on my BuyMort app. It was different this time too. The contract was monthly, instead of a simple purchase. I needed to enter a monthly contract with the Knowles, and in order to do that, I had to make an offer for their salary.

They came as a duo, it appeared. Axle was the male’s name, Jada was the female’s, and it was part of the contract that they worked together or not at all.

The standard food, housing, power, and water requirements were all there as well, and I was hoping they would be a little flexible on that front, at least until we could get everything we needed up and running.

Glancing at my affiliate sheet, I decided I could afford a high offer and put in fifty thousand each for the first month’s pay, with a notation that it would be a high demand month. Within seconds of submitting the offer, I got a reply saying it had been accepted, and my MortMobile phone began buzzing and vibrating in my pocket.

Not sure what to expect, I kept my helmet on to conceal my face and glanced at the screen. There was a picture of Axle, grinning and pointing at the camera. His head was turned so that I could see a stud earring on one of his large, pointy ears.

I swiped to answer, and the head of my enslaved psychic deity turned into the fog and connected us. Axle appeared to be walking someplace, surrounded by plenty of greenery. He was on a hillside, with scrub and trees all around him.

“Hey new bossman!” he said in nearly perfect English. “I’m stoked to meet you! I’m Axle.”

He turned the phone to show Jada at his furry side, tucked in with her arms around him.

“This is Jada. You’re lookin’ for somebody to help you upgrade your encampment?”

I nodded, rapidly getting used to talking to what looked like a human sized hyena.

“Yes, starting with a water system. We’re on top of an aquifer but getting to it will be difficult.”

Axle nodded and scowled. “Right, right. Killer. That should be no problem, so long as your affiliate has the morties. I can work with a limited budget, of course, but we gotta have what we gotta have, you know?” He chuckled as he finished, and Jada pulled away from the camera.

A loud scuttling sound was heard in the background and Axle looked up, almost disinterestedly as Jada grunted. Something crunched hard, and Axle flinched.

“Damn baby, good shot.”

Jada walked back into camera frame behind him, wiping gore from a strange club. It looked like part of a vehicle’s transmission, with heavy gears clumped up at the end all covered in ichor from a BuyMort Bug. She wiped the club on some nearby grass, before grinning up at him and clipping the mace at her waist.

Axle noticed me on his phone and seemed to remember that we had been talking. “Oh! Sorry about that, she’s just squashin’ a bug.”

In the background, Jada pointed off screen and told BuyMort she would like to sell whatever it was she had just crushed.

“Yeah, buncha yarsps in this area, gotta be a nest nearby for sure.” Axle sniffed the air and frowned. “More comin’, Jada baby.” He looked down at me again.

“Thrilled to get a new place so soon, I just posted that ad this morning. Lookin’ forward to meetin’ you boss! Tyson, the name is?” Axle frowned, his canine lips pursing in front of his sharp teeth. “I mean, the helmet makes it a little awkward, but we roll with most anything, ain’t that right Jada baby?”

“The fuck we do.” I heard her grunt in the background, before laughing.

I shook my head. “Sorry, there’s been some assassination attempts in recent days. Being careful when out and about, I’ll take it off when we meet more officially. Human, by the way. Nu-Earth native.”

Axles' eyes widened a little, and he glanced off camera at Jada. “Wild, man, wild. Really looking forward to meeting you, I’ve been hearing some wild shit about the humans on this earth.”

He stopped to sniff the air again before shaking his head.

“Lot of ‘em comin’ baby, we better git.” Axle turned back to me. “Look, we’re heading your way now. Should get there by nightfall, even with all the yarsp detours.”

I frowned. “Was hoping you guys could start sooner than that.”

Axle nodded understandingly, still looking in the distance. “Could do, could do indeed, but we’d need a pickup. No transport, we had to leave our last position a little quickly. You guys got vehicles at Silken Sands?”

A glance around the parking lot didn’t instill much confidence in me, but I nodded. “Some, yeah. I might be able to make the run, where are you?”

Axle started jogging, and I could hear Jada at his side. “Prescott National Forest. We were following that 89 road, but the yarsps drove us into the woods. I got a locator ping from Silken Sands now though, so we’ll be heading toward you guys, more or less. Depends on how hard the yarsps chase us, really. Call me back if you’re gonna come get us, I’ll set up a location ping for you too.”

I nodded, and we hung up. I hoped they were significantly faster runners than humans, cause those yarsps were pretty zippy.

At least thirty to forty miles per hour, if my chase earlier had been any indicator. I couldn’t put any distance on them until I was making highway speeds in the truck.

The more I thought about it, the faster picking those two up became another thing on my to-do list for the day.

AFFLQWST took that moment to chime a new message. A new quest type unlocked.

Bounty Quest -Yarsps. The Dearth Conglomerate has put a standing bounty on a yarsp hive in their area of operations on Nu-Earth that is disrupting their normal operations, particularly the acquisition of hostile local affiliate MortBlocks.

To address this, a bounty token worth five-hundred million morties has been dispatched to the hive, and it awaits capture. As is standard practice, the bounty token has attached itself to the yarsp hive’s primary queen.

REQUIREMENTS:

1. Locate Yarsp Nest

2. Clear nest.

3. Retrieve bounty token from hive queen for automatic payment.

4. (Optional) Repurpose, salt, and store yarsp meat for future provisions.

Reward: automated payment of five-hundred million morties directly to the account of your choice.

What the fuck? Well, that made sense. Dearth hadn’t come down on us like a ton of bricks yet because their local goon squad had trouble taking the direct route to our front door.

Each time they’d come had been with the militia for guides, and in armored convoys. I guess five-hundred million to the random void of BuyMort mercs was easier than sending heavier guns at us.

Which meant that we had a clock ticking for major conflict with Dearth no matter what. I grabbed the quest and accepted it. Right after the Sleem, this was my first priority. If we were going to survive more of the Dearth Conglomerates direct attention, we would need morties. And the fact that this bounty existed at all meant someone was going to come claim it.

I decided it was better to control the coming conflict.

We still had Molls, and our on-paper relationship to protect us from direct violence, but something told me that two major league affiliates who sat on the top ten list would have no trouble crushing a bug like me between them and barely even notice.

They’d kill Molls and cover it up easily enough. From the sounds of it, Dearth owned most of Arizona already. We would have to do something dramatic in order to survive them.

From the sounds of them, perhaps Mr. Sada had the right idea in running for the stars. Getting off the planet while we could sounded attractive at that point.

I shared the quest with the affiliate, except Mr. Sada and the ravens. I didn’t think they would go underground, and I assumed without basis that the wasps’ nest would be underground.

Another dungeon. Within seconds, Doofus volunteered. I hadn’t even noticed, but he’d been signed up as a security agent, operating independently, but working with Rayna as a low-level scout.

I scanned through the list to see Phyllis as well. She was an ‘independent contractor’ working with security. Her listing just said, “biggest gun.” I nodded and blinked when she signed up too.

Her sign up came with a note. “Stop dragging Doofus into your bullshit, Tyson.”  She signed it with a kissy lips and heart emoji.

I’d never once texted with Phyllis before all this, and the realization that she enjoyed the use of emojis was a distracting blow that knocked me out of my train of thought and back to the uncomfortable asphalt I was sitting on in the parking lot.

Rayna stared at me with an eyebrow raised. I shook my head and stood up, accepting her hand to help. She was deceptively strong and hauled me to my feet.

“Well, we have some Knowles coming to help us get set up. I just have to go pick them up first.”

She jumped, surprised. “Knowles? Here?”

Her broad shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath.

“That is very good news. Hobbs talking already. No water, no power, some wanted to leave again. Storage is not nice but has water and power.”

“Yeah. I thought that might be the case. Say, Lee gave me a talking to about some things that have been happening in the camp here. I don’t suppose you have any information on how he might have gotten it?”

I purposefully asked the question off-handedly but paid close-attention to her eyes and face, looking for a tell. But she didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she barked a laugh and reached forward, past my ear, as if she were about to pluck a quarter from it.

Ads popped up in a circle around my head, circling about like vultures. I grabbed one at random, just to see what it was all about.

A guy with slicked back hair in a high school letterman jacket sneered at me. Looked like someone straight out of the fifties. Probably an alternate Earth.

Some nerd macking on your girl? Catch him in the act with Horn Bash Unlimited. After all, that square ain’t talking up unstocked dollies on the fly.

That’s your lady he’s gabbing, and you ain’t gotta take it. 10,000 morties / 24 hours 4.5 stars.

I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was it a spy program? A satellite? I grabbed another one. This time I was treated to a man in a trench coat eyeing me from the brick wall of an alley.

Your Associates acting funny? Affiliates acting strange? VP slinking about, having secret meetings? Get the truth and keep yourself safe with The Watcher!

Lightning flashed in the alleyway.

The Watcher gives you it all. Pick a place, pick a time, I can give you full audio, visual, even 3D images of the 100m cube of your choice.

Need more room?

Additional cubes of coverage are available at a 10% discount after your first two purchases. Be smart. Be safe. Spy on your allies. 25,000 morties / 24 hours / 1 cube ea, 4.9 stars.

“Damnit!” I bellowed, waving them all away.

Rayna watched impassively. “Is shock first time maybe. Lee smart. He want smart ally. He watch.” She emphasized the last word by pointing to her eye and then pointing at me.

“Smart! Friends don’t spy on friends, Rayna. I trust him and I want him to trust me back.”

Rayna shrugged. “Maybe he no do. Don’t know. Maybe hobb talk to hobb. Many gossip, some hobb.” She made a pointed glare to her side, and I followed it to a rather chatty hobb. Said hobb was at a distance chatting and chatting with two of her fellows.

I nodded. There really wasn’t anything else I could do. If it wasn’t BuyMort it was gossip. And maybe Rayna was right. In this world it was hard to trust anyone. Spying felt dirty, but it didn’t feel wrong somehow.

“Maybe you spy Sada?” Rayna asked. But the tone of her voice suggested a hint of hope lying in the innards of the question.

“Yeah. Maybe. Hold on a second. BuyMort, give me some anti-espionage options.”

A new spiral rotated about my head. A carousel of privacy. I selected one with a very familiar name at its head and no introductory video.

HordVPN – Secret plans? Secret mate? Secret eating? Hord got you covered. Hord Vital Protection Node give strong protect to lying liars. 5,000 morties, 1 day. 3.9 stars.

Under four. Hmm. I checked the first two-star review I could find.

HordVPN works against cheap spying algos, but middle and expensive packages cut through the static and catch everything. If you need to be secret, go expensive.

I growled mentally. Spending money, always, for everything. I didn’t want people listening in to my camp and watching our personal times. And I’d have to pay through the nose for it. Goddamn it.

“BuyMort, what is the cheapest 5-star package you have available that could cover our camp?”

The system searched and cycled for almost a minute.

STRAWBERRY JAM – YOU’VE GOT SECRETS, WE’VE GOT ANSWERS.

Battling a tyrannical global affiliate?

Check us out for our Guerilla Package. Blocks all competitors. 500,000 morties / 1 kilometer cube / 1 day. 5 stars.

It bothered me, but not enough to put down serious money. I’d save up until it made sense to go silent. Images of Dearth Conglomerate flitted through my head as I thought it.

Yeah, that’d be the time for it. Let aliens watch them shower. It’d make them that much more surprising when shit hit the fan.

I refocused on Rayna.

“I gotta run and pick the Knowles up, right after I go yell at Mr. Sada and get us some proper funding to build up the place a bit. We should have water and dormitories soon.”

I brushed off my hands from the pavement and turned to look at Rayna.

“I’d like it if you could work with me and the Knowles when they arrive. You know what we need better than I do, your advice would be appreciated.”

“Advice?” Rayna asked. She blinked a few times and shook her head. “Sometime forget why I join you. Then Remember. You strange human, Tyson.”

“Sure.” I said, waving a hand. “If strange keeps us alive, I’m happy to be that.”

A sudden thought crossed my mind. One of those things I had to ask now or I’d probably forget later. “Hey, how well can you defend us from Dearth with five-hundred million morties?”

Rayna frowned and shrugged. “Good. At start. Dearth big threat. We can fight, make gone from planet maybe. Probably not. Not easy to do. Probably lose. Cost five-hundred million morties to try. But we can fight, defend. They lose, they get embarrass, lose face, leave planet. They not lose, we die.”

I glanced behind us at the open common area that buttressed the parking lot. Hobbs were already setting up a food distribution tent, and an old charcoal standing grill had been commandeered for an impromptu barbeque.

I had no idea what they were burning in it, but the smoke was puffing and a hobb I had never seen before was putting on an apron. Both humans and hobbs were already starting to gather around.

“I got you. First the Sleem, then the yarsps. Then Dearth, hopefully. Via a lot of morties. Well. Time to go strangle Mr. Sada,” I said to Rayna. When her eyes widened and she stared at me, I shrugged. “Not really. Not that I’m actually thinking about it, but would you care if I did?”

She grunted and shrugged back.

“Mm. Not really.” The hobb shoved her hands in her pockets and started walking toward the barbeque. “Just be surprised.”

The hobbs at the BBQ station had begun searing great chunks of the white yarsp meat, and my helmet picked up the smell. I had just had breakfast, but my stomach was rumbling to the smell of sizzling alien wasp meat that reminded me far too much of bacon.

It tripped me up to think of the things that had ripped into me and chased me across the desert being delicious, but that’s exactly the way they smelled.

A terrible temptation came over me to go try a bite.

I left instead, marching toward Mr. Sada’s compound. As I walked by the raven’s stronghold, Darclau greeted me with a bob of his head and a ‘g’wah’ sound. I nodded at him and raised a hand in greeting.

Then I fished out the pumpkin seeds and showed him the bag’s contents. The raven cocked his head sideways to get a good look and then pecked at the seeds, stealing one to gulp down.

“Hey, knock that off, I’m gonna make suet cake for you guys,” I admonished.

Darclau spread his wings and chortled, thrusting his head at me twice in quick succession.

“I’ll take that as you being pleased,” I said, as I pulled up the affiliate screen. His team had had a good night, our measly five percent was a decent haul that would pay for the new Knowles first month. I raised a fist to try and bump with him. “Hey, good work last night. You guys really scavenge up some good stuff, huh?”

Darclau tilted his head first one way, and then the other at my raised fist. Then he pecked me, once, on the knuckles and flew away into his little trailer, cackling that laugh of his. I shrugged and continued my way to Mr. Sada’s.

It felt weird, waiting for a hobb to open the gate for me, and weirder still when I walked up the walled-in road to his mansion. Another hobb opened his gate for me too, and I walked into my boss’s mansion to yell at him.

I saw the still broken windows of his Tesla and stopped to collect my thoughts.

Mr. Sada wasn’t acting out of malice. He was just a scared idiot who didn’t have control over his world anymore and was lashing out to regain some semblance of the feeling of security he used to have.

Selling our spider trees and ruining the market hadn’t been intentional. That mattered to how I treated him in the coming conflict.

I took a deep breath, ordered some gobbs from my own morties to repair the windows, and went inside to talk to him.

I entered the house with a knock on the doorframe. “Mr. Sada! Gotta talk!” As I entered, I took off my helmet and tucked it under my arm.

There was no response, aside from the sound of heavy footfalls coming down the hallway. I walked into the kitchen to wait, but it had been Hord I heard, and he walked down the stairs waving his hands.

“No boss today, Tyson. Boss say he want you go. Tyson go.”

He did that thing where he flapped his hand at me again and my jaw clenched. I held my position for a long moment, while I stared at him, and then I turned to the fridge and opened it.

I grabbed a mineral water, noting that it appeared as though Mr. Sada had recently stocked up. I twisted the cap off, turning back to Hord and taking a long drink. Hord looked at me, then glanced back upstairs. His hands were shaking.

“Hord, you and I should talk.” I reached back in the fridge and pulled another of Mr. Sada’s waters out, offering it to him. The hobb licked his lips and blinked.

“Not supposed to. Tyson supposed to go,” the tall alien hesitantly said.

I smiled and shook my head. The smile did not reach my eyes. “Well. I’m not going.”

His weapon hand twitched, and I straightened up. The smile vanished from my face immediately.

“If you reach for that gun, we’re in a fight. If we get in a fight, I’m probably going to kill you. You know that rusty piece won’t do a damn thing to stop me, if I come for you, so please.” I locked eyes with him.

“Don’t reach for it again.”

Chapter 14

Hord blinked a few times and nodded. His hands came together in front of him, and he held one with the other.

“Have you had anything to eat yet, Hord?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Well, I brought in a load of food, and there’s a breakfast barbeque happening just off the parking lot.” I paused to take a sip of my stolen water. “I brought back yarsp meat.”

Hord’s eyes widened, and he began blinking. Then he looked down at his feet. “Boss say no.”

“Well, the boss doesn’t always know best. Do they Hord?” I set my hands on the counter as I asked. “Are bosses so smart you should listen to them no matter what?”

His forehead screwed up in frustration, and Hord raised his hands in surrender. “No. I not that dumb.” He sighed. “This my job, Tyson. Boss say I make you go, not let anyone in today.”

“If Mr. Sada fires you, I’ll hire you. You have my word. You’re a good worker, Hord. And loyal to a fault. What do you think of Tribe BlueCleave?” I asked.

“BlueCleave? You think I be part of BlueCleave?” His eyes were wider than usual, and his mouth hung open.

“It’s not my call, that would be up to Rayna. But you can work with them, live here.”

I tapped on the counter with a finger, looking at my water bottle and trying to think.

“Look, Hord, listen. I need to talk to Mr. Sada. I’m not going to allow you to stop me from doing that. This offer is just in case. I’m not going to send you back to Storage or wherever you came from if you don’t want to go. That’s all.”

He nodded as I spoke. “That’s all.” Hord repeated my words as I finished, and I shook my head.

“Hord. Go get some yarsp barbeque before it’s all gone.”

I shoved the water bottle across the counter to him and he caught it to stop it from falling on the floor. The hobb pushed the bottle back from the edge and let go of it in a hurry, as if it might burn him.

Then he wiped his hands on his pants, being very careful to keep both hands away from his sidearm before he finally turned around and left through the front door.

“Good call, Hord,” I muttered.

I walked around the counter and grabbed the other bottle of water, carrying it with me as I climbed the stairs. My footsteps down the hall felt heavy, and slow. I realized I was dreading the coming conversation.

“You get rid of him, Hord?” Mr. Sada’s voice yelled. “You can have some food now.”

I stopped outside the bedroom door and shook my head, one hand on the knob. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.

“He’s not here Mr. Sada. I sent him to the campground,” I announced as I entered.

Mr. Sada was on his bed, in his own robe, with the TV on, and a feast on the nearby end-table. He had another lobster, accompanied with fries and a shrimp cocktail.

Beside it was a lump of pale white meat, I assumed Hord’s intended ration. The makeup counter had a dusting of new cocaine on it. There was also a bag, mostly filled with the white powder, but it looked like he had spilled, because great streaks of it were present as well.

I walked over to the nearby window and set the bottles of water down on the sill.

He held up a finger to me and fished his phone out of his pocket. “One second Tyson. Important call I need to make first.”

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall by his oversized bedroom window. Mr. Sada muttered something to the phone and then nodded at it.

I caught a glimpse of a panicked gray face in it before he started screaming.

“YOU’RE FUCKING FIRED!”

He angrily hit a button on the device and threw it to the foot of his bed, while staring at me.

I sighed and fished my own phone out. “Call Hord, please.”

The deity in the device frowned and turned into a tunnel. Hord was on the other side, his eyes wide as he looked around. He was in the campground, already most of the way to the parking lot.

“Congratulations, Hord. You’re the newest employee of Silken Sands. Check in with Rayna, she’ll get you started.”

Afflqwst jumped into action and added Hord to the employee lists, under Rayna’s jurisdiction.

I hung up before he could respond. Then I prepared and sent a text to Rayna, telling her to get Hord doing something useful.

She sent me a single letter back in response, “K.”

Mr. Sada was glaring at me fully by the time I pocketed my phone again. “You’re an asshole, Tyson.”

I nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. Doesn’t matter, I needed to talk to you, and I’d rather not kill him in order to do that.”

He turned and pouted, staring at his TV. Another news program was on, but he clearly wasn’t paying attention to it. Merely trying his best to avoid looking at me.

“So. Spider City,” I started.

“Belongs to me, Tyson. Has since before you even started working here,” he snapped back.

“Spider City is the only way we have to keep surviving, Mr. Sada.”

I tried to be gentle with my delivery and managed to keep my frustration out of my voice. He didn’t respond. Lee’s words rang through my head. I gritted my teeth.

“What you did was extremely dangerous, Mr. Sada. For you, me, the whole place. There are dozens of people out there now, living here, and helping us. Or trying to, while you eat lobster and French fries. What are you doing?” I asked, more animated.

“What do you mean, what am I doing? I own the whole place.” He shifted on the bed, still refusing to look at me, but his voice was calmer.

“Let’s do it this way,” I said, trying to change tactics. “Why would you tell Hord not to let me in to see you?”

He glanced at me and scowled, but didn’t answer, so I continued.

“You knew I was going to be pissed when I found out what you did to Spider City, and you were trying to avoid having this conversation. You know you did something wrong and are trying to avoid having to deal with that.”

I walked over and grabbed the chair from his cocaine and makeup table and turned it around to sit in.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he snapped. “I just fucked up the first few and knew you’d yell at me over it, cause you’re a self-righteous prick sometimes.”

I shrugged and nodded. “Sure, maybe,” I said without smiling. “Really not the core problem though is it?”

Mr. Sada looked at me and snorted a laugh, before turning back to his TV. “My trees, my spiders, my campground.”

“That you’re not doing anything to help,” I snapped. “You sit in here eating expensive shit and shoving coke in your face all day, and then have the fucking balls to act like you deserve anything but a broken nose for that? Fuck that. Fuck you.”

“Fuck you! Fucking . . . fucking asshole!”

His face was turning red.

““How dare you! I fucking took you in. I fed you and made you better. You owe me! I shoulda never hired you, asshole! You’ve been a fucking problem for me since day one.”

He sat up and straightened his robe. He began swiping through BuyMort, angrily waving notifications away.

“No, you’ve been a fucking problem for you since day one. I’ve done everything for you man. I’ve never forgotten, and I’ve taken turd after turd from you to keep you and the rest of us alive. I’ve bent over backwards so far that even our own goddamn allies are talking about us.”

Mr. Sada’s eyes widened, and his nostrils flared.

I sighed. “That reminds me. We need to pay Buy-Mort to sweep the place for bugs or to defend us against satellite-based eavesdropping or something. But that’s later. This is now.”

Mr. Sada looked away, staring at the wall. I felt heat rise to my cheeks, my face burning.

“You know what happened to me last night?”

He wouldn’t look at me, so I stood up and knocked the chair over violently. He shuddered and his eyes shot to it, pregnant with fear. They shot up and met my eyes when it bounced from the floor.

“I got ripped apart.”

I ran my fingertips along the side of my neck.

“One of your fucking slimes engulfed me and ripped away the flesh on both sides of my neck until it got to my fucking jugulars.”

I slapped myself in the stomach for emphasis. Thankfully, it didn’t jiggle.

“Another one ripped my fucking guts out, before I could kill it. That’s not even the first time I’ve been disemboweled this week!”

He blinked rapidly, focused on me again. “I . . . uh . . .” Mr. Sada was no good under pressure. Especially when he was so obviously in fear of his life.

I can honestly say that I don’t know what I’d been planning.

Murder maybe. Exile.

Seeing him there, curling in on himself, eyes wide and child-like, his fucking fine food and toys scattered about the place, it took a lot of steam out of my boiler. He needed to go, that much was certain.

But was I really going to toss this man-child into the wilderness to starve, or gut him while he lay here, defenseless?

Dude was fucking lucky. Any other person would be gone by now. And that was saying something because it hadn’t even been a week yet. How someone could fuck up so hard, so fast, was beyond me.

A rogue thought drifted around the edges. Maybe I could have Hobb do it.

No, fuck. I threw the thought aside. This was major moral shit. If anyone was going to do it, it would have to be me. I was the most biased judge on his side.

If I killed him, it would mean he had deserved it.

“Your idiot move of allowing the Sleem to live here led to me nearly getting killed for about an hour straight while I did some impromptu exploration of the underground base. Big complex, by the way, they were totally doing shady weapons research down there back in the day.”

I stopped to take a breath and realized I had him enraptured. He was listening to every word I said, finally.

“And then today, getting food for everyone, I was shot several times, had to kill three men from our own world, and got ripped up by crazy wingless wasps the size of tigers.” I waved a hand at his wall clock, above the bedroom door. “It’s not even nine AM yet!”

Mr. Sada was subdued, somewhat. He was still blinking rapidly, and I realized he was crying as he took a big phlegmy sniff.

“I don’t belong here, Tyson. This isn’t my world. I just want everything to go back to how it used to be.”

I tossed him the pack of tissues from his cocaine desk.

“That world is gone for fucking forever. Not your fault. Sure as hell not mine. We have to change. Adapt. Evolve. We have to think, Mr. Sada. We have to make things fucking work. And we have to think about not just ourselves, but everybody.”

I paused. His tears were flowing harder now, and he was audibly gasping.

“Look, Mr. Sada. I’ve been getting ripped apart and put back together every day since this shitstorm started. You’re right. This isn’t your world. You couldn’t survive what I’ve been surviving. You can’t do what I do to keep this place going.”

I paused, watching him closely. He was listening hard with such a look of sorrow and guilt. Inside I felt a flicker of hope rise and warm my heart. That sorrow and guilt, that attentiveness, it all meant that I could change him. Save him!

“That all matters more than the concept of ownership. Just because you used to own this place before BuyMort, does not mean you can do whatever you like. Sometimes doing whatever you like can get you, or others, killed. For fucks sake man, you need to grow the fuck up. Because if you don’t, you are going to have to leave. I don’t owe you anything. Not anymore.”

I waited a minute, maybe two, as he got his blubbering under control, pulling at tissues and wiping his eyes and nose. He looked up at me, his face a mirror of the man who’d saved me so long ago.

A man who didn’t belong here.

“I’m sorry, alright? I went broke again last night and it scared me.”

“I get that, I really do,” I started, my voice softening. “I just wish you had talked to me about it, before you ruined our spider ranch.”

He wilted. “I left a bunch of them.”

I tried to be gentle with him. I felt sorry for him, for who he was and the circumstances he’d been put in. The guy was way over his head, and this new world clearly didn’t favor his type.

But his words, they snuffed the flicker of hope I’d felt just a moment ago and replaced it with a explosion of anger. I was put into worse circumstances than him and I was putting myself out there on the front line every day to make things work. And all he could do was try to avoid blame.

“What you did was fuck up the market, Mr. Sada,” I screamed. “You sold a bunch of spiders and eggs when the plan was to sell just the silk. Now the silk market is fucked, cause a bunch of other affiliates bought your spiders and eggs, and are now running their own ranches and will be selling their own silk. You shorted our futures.”

Tears began to flow again. “I didn’t mean . . .”

“I know. But you never think to ask or even consider extending trust to me at all. I’ve been killing myself to keep you in cocaine and lobster, and it’s starting to feel like the suicidal behavior it most assuredly is.”

I shook my head and leaned back in the chair.

“It’s getting really difficult to keep you rich and alive, Mr. Sada. You keep tripping me up.”

In the silence that followed, I pulled up the affiliate page and followed the links to the price of silk.

It was stabilizing, finally. Still significantly lower than it had been, but it had gone back to a decent price range.

“Alright, here’s my take on it. You and I are not boss and employee anymore. We’re partners. I need to acknowledge that I fucked up here too. I should have told you about Spider City and my plans for it. That was me not trusting you, which I need to face up to. That was my fuck up.”

I looked him hard in the eye.

“We agreed to be partners, and I didn’t trust you.”

Mr. Sada blinked as I finished. He looked between me and his TV screen a few times before he stared at the bed hard.

“And I fucked up by selling so many of our producers.”

I cocked my head at him. “I would argue you probably should have run it past me first, as an act of trust and equality, but yes also that.”

His lips pursed again, and he shook his head. “No offense, Tyson, but I know you hate my guts.”

I winced, but he continued.

“No, really. I get it. People hate the rich just for being rich. It’s not like it was my fault I’m better at making money than most others. It’s a skill set. We’re all told at a young age how the world works, it’s not my fuckin fault most people didn’t listen.”

With a short sigh, I raised a hand to stop him.

“I don’t hate you, Mr. Sada,” I said with a tiny shrug. “To be fair, that is a recent development. I never hated you for being rich, I hated you for being callous and self-centered.”

He frowned and met my gaze and I continued.

“And I kind of hated you for tapping that ring on everything. Super annoying. But that’s basically it, man. You saved my life, and I’ve never forgotten that. In a way, that makes this all so much worse. Because people keep telling me that I need to get rid of you, and if I really honestly hated you, I would have done that already. I want this to work. I really want you to stop trying so hard to get us all killed. Me in particular. Just real talk, it’s getting old. I want so hard to save you.”

Mr. Sada stared at me for a few minutes after I finished talking. He finally sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I gotta lay off the coke, huh?”

“Well, shit. I dunno. I’ve had to lay off Phyllis’ good weed. Mostly.” I shrugged at him. “Mostly what I need is for you to start acting like we’re a team. And in the interest of acting like a team, I have really good news for you.”

He looked up, his features brightening somewhat.

“I found a spaceship for you. It’s underground, and once we get it all fixed up, it's all yours.” I finished my statement with a clap. He jumped.

“What do you mean fixed up?” Mr. Sada always made a specific face right before he started whining, and he was making it then.

I waved off his complaints. “It got damaged in the Sleem fight, but with a functional affiliate, which I’m working really hard to get set up, we can pay for repairs and upgrades easily. The Sleem keep it kind of spare and disgusting, so we’ve got some work to do. But it’s a ship! It’s a free ship, just for you. Even big enough to live on it and go on zany adventures, all by yourself.”

He smiled, just a little. “How big is it?”

My eyes widened and I puffed out my cheeks in thought. “Uhh. I didn’t measure it, but big. There’s this giant hangar down there. That ship has to be at least the size of this house, though.”

His smile grew. “What color is it?”

“Oh. Uhh. It was really dark, but I think it’s dark green. It can teleport too, you’ll love it.” I waved a hand dismissively, and his smile grew.

“Okay, that sounds pretty good. You found that for me?” His eyes peaked hopefully, looking up at me.

“Yeah, Mr. Sada. I found it, and immediately thought of you. The Sleem were full of shit, they never needed to repair it, they just wanted to use our base as their base. Hide in plain sight from folks like the Dearth Conglomerate.” I leveled my gaze at him. “They were trying to use you.”

His chin stuck out and he glared at the bed.

“Don’t worry, I’m going back down there today to clear the rest of 'em out. Maybe even start using the base for something.” I paused until he looked up at me. “But I’m gonna have to ask you for some morties to do all that.”

His glare lightened and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have sold all those spiders and eggs.”

He pressed a hand to his forehead. “How much you need?”

“Millions. I’m trying to get this place up and running, which takes money for construction. Had to hire more people, which ups our food bill. We’re already paying close to half a mill for a couple days’ worth of everyone eating. And that’s IF the nice old hippies up the road manage to keep their heads. We really should get our own growing operation set up here. Maybe some livestock even.”

I paused to take a deep breath and let it out in a rush.

“And that’s not including the Sleem. I need some kind of large-scale infestation management device, and the ones I saw before were expensive. Like hundreds of millions expensive.”

He flinched at that. “Well, I hope you’re not planning to spend everything.”

I shook my head. “Mr. Sada, I might need to. That forest was supposed to be an income stream. Not a single big sale. We have to get it repaired and get someone to be our spider rancher. Keep them healthy and cared for, so we can get back to selling silk. Which won’t be as much of a gold mine as it was before, but the market seems relatively stable if your grenade only did this much damage to it, so it’ll be something.”

Mr. Sada’s flinching face became permanent. “Plus my spaceship repairs and upgrades. That doesn’t sound like it would be enough for a long time.”

I nodded. “Might not be. There’s a chance we can use the Sleem in our basement to make money. Rayna says it's not uncommon, if you can contain them. Supposedly there’s a market for their corpses.”

Mr. Sada nodded. “Makes sense, there’s a really thriving one for human bodies right now.”

It was my turn to wince. “They’re eating us, aren’t they?”

His eyebrows rose and he barked a short laugh. “Not as much as you might think, but yes. It’s primarily for experimentation. All the established affiliates want to learn as much as possible about us surviving Nu-Earthers, and there’s a shitload of affiliates.”

He took a long, shaky breath and nodded up at me. “I am sorry for the spiders, Tyson, and I’m gonna lay off the coke. Been meaning to anyway. And yeah, we’re partners. I’ll adjust the agreement to fifty percent. Do your shopping, let me know what the affiliate needs. I’ll do my part.”

I nodded at him. “And I’ll keep you looped in. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you before.”

“Thank you, s-“ he stopped. “Thank you, Tyson.”

My eyes narrowed, but I nodded and extended my hand. “Partners?”

Mr. Sada nodded, his expression serious. “Partners.” We shook on it.

“Alright, good. I gotta run, lots to do.” I turned back to the windowsill and retrieved the bottles of water, pressing one into his hands. “Don’t forget to hydrate.”

I grabbed my psychic phone out of my pocket but turned back before I hit the button to awaken it.

“Hey, Mr. Sada.” When he looked up, I continued. “There’s a hobb barbeque going on right now, I think it’s something they do frequently, if meat is available. You should go. Meet some of the new people, you might like ‘em.”

He froze, and then shook his head.

“I think I’m gonna practice some social distancing, actually. It’s probably better if people don’t see or hear from me for a while. Might stop them from telling you to get rid of me. I dunno.”

“Well. It’s there if you want. Might do you some good to get out. Talk to some people.” I offered him a small smile and turned to leave. “You’re safe in here. Don’t worry.”

On the walk down the hallway, I called Rayna. The psychic deity in my phone was getting easier and easier to ignore. I was barely horrified by him anymore. When the tall woman answered, I could see she was at the barbeque. Ordo was behind her, poking at a bit of yarsp meat on the grill.

“Yeah boss?”

“Hey, I talked to Mr. Sada. We’re good to go with the Sleem hunt today, so let’s get prepped for that.”

I trotted down the stairs and grabbed my gear, tucking the helmet under my arm as I spoke.

“Yeah boss. You want to kill them, or try to contain?” She tore a chunk out of a well seared chunk of yarsp meat and chewed as she waited for me to answer.

I frowned. She had said it was a risk, but we were pretty fucked without an income stream, so I nodded and stopped at the basement door.

“Contain. I have to deal with our visitor, and then run and pick up our new Knowles team, they’re going to get us up and running on the water and food front.”

“Mmm, boss.” She hurriedly swallowed her food. “Yarsps at the walls this morning. Small group, but more always come next time. Ravens sold bodies before we could do anything.”

I raised my eyebrows and sighed. Lee’s compound was closer to the national forest than we were. They seemed to be getting swarmed worse and worse each day, so I expected that would happen to us as well.

“Alright. We’ll get some guns for the walls. Don’t worry about the ravens, I’ll talk to them so we can start harvesting the yarsps for ourselves.” She nodded, and I hung up.

Then I put my helmet back on, unlocked the basement door, and went down to talk to our new friend from the local militia.

Chapter 15

He was seated in a folding chair, wearing zip-tie cuffs, with only Tollya guarding him. She nodded at me as I came in, and I nodded back.

“Hey, Tollya, why don’t you take a break, go get some food?”

Tollya nodded again and motioned for me to follow her back up to the kitchen. I did, closing the door behind myself as I exited the stairwell. When I turned around, Tollya gave me her report.

“Kay, boss. He threaten a lot. But, no try anything. So I no rough up. Seem want talk to you.”

“Thank you Tollya. I’ll be alright with him alone, you can go get some food,” I told her.

She slung her shotgun over her shoulder and left. When she reached the front door, she turned back and looked at me.

“Save you some yarsp bacon?” The tall hobb smiled as she asked me.

I flinched at the suggestion and she started laughing.

“Boss no eat bugs? Ha-ha-ha! What you eat then?” She left, still laughing. I shook my head and returned to the basement.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind me, the man in the chair started yelling. “Where are my men? What did you do with them?”

I sat down heavily on the third step from the bottom, resting my forearms on my knees. “They’re dead,” I announced matter of fact. “I killed them.”

He got quiet then and started looking around the room with narrowed eyes. As though he were studying it.

“Stop. You won’t need to mount a daring escape,” I told him as I leaned back and waved a hand at him.

“It’s my duty to try,” he snapped back.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Duty, right. Was it your duty to sneak in here and assassinate me too?”

His eyes narrowed again, but he didn’t respond.

“What’s your name? I’m Tyson, which you already knew.” I stared at him from inside the helmet.

After a long moment of staring at me, he blinked and looked down. “Zach.”

“Well, Zach. We’re in a situation, you and me.”

The exhaustion of my long night and annoying morning crept in, and all I wanted was to be done with this entire problem.

“Let me lay it all out for you. Your poorly named militia full of dumbasses is becoming something I can’t just ignore anymore.”

He glared at me but didn’t respond.

“So.” I raised a hand and pointed at him. “What do you suggest?”

Zach’s glare deepened. He blinked rapidly, then looked at me and scowled. “The fuck you talkin’ about?”

I sighed. “I’m talking about what I’m supposed to do with you, Zach. You tried to kill me. So did your friends. You know, it’s telling that you referred to them as your men, and not as your friends. They died for your stupidity, the least you could do is admit you liked them.”

“Fuck you, civilian. You couldn’t understand the bond between soldiers.” He finished his statement by spitting on my boot.

“Well, we have that much in common at least.”

I stood up and scuffed the spittle from my boot onto the underside of Mr. Sada’s basement staircase, pointedly taking my time just to show the man how little I thought of him.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with you, Zach,” I muttered to myself.

He answered by charging me when my back was turned. Zach came up out of the chair and rammed into my back, knocking me sprawling onto the stairs.

I tried to stand up, but he stomped on my ankle, and then stomped me again at the base of my spine, before hunching forward and running high-kneed up the stairs.

I felt the painkiller before I felt the pain this time, and the cartoon starfish appeared beneath the stairs to look up at me and waggle a hand. The Dutch accented “Damage detected user!” didn’t even register as I tried to haul myself upright.

Zach hit the top of the stairs and rammed the door with his shoulder. The door held as the starfish suit popped out a portion of my spine and replaced it. I reached back and gripped the handgun at my waist, drawing it from the holster.

My suit whirred up and started working on a new ankle joint for me next, which heavily involved the tendrils, and some nasty sawing sounds. More painkiller flushed through me.

I had locked the door when I came down to talk to Zach, but it was a simple turn button lock. He was standing at the top of the stairs, facing me and trying to manipulate it with his zip-tied hands. From my still mostly prone position on the stairs, I pointed the gun up at him. “Stop!”

He didn’t. Zach saw the gun, and his eyes went wide. He jumped, from the top of the stairs, in an apparent attempt to land on me. I rolled to avoid him, and he landed badly on the stairs where I had been.

I heard his ankle snap on impact, and then he fell past me with a scream.

The screaming continued as I rolled over to try and see what had happened. Zach had landed on his chin, hard, with both hands still zip-tied behind himself. He had a big patch of bleeding skin on the underside of his chin, and his mouth was also bleeding profusely. His breath came in ragged sobs, and anguished moans.

I slowly stood and turned to face him.

“Well, that was stupid. How bad’s the ankle?” I asked, returning to my seat on the third step.

Zach spit out a small splatter of tongue blood and rolled over to look at me, moaning in pain as an answer. I nodded.

“Right. Well, good work kickin’ your own ass. I was going to let you go, was even considering giving you a ride part way back to Prescott, up the chances of you surviving the trip on foot.” I cradled the handgun again and shook my head. “Guess that’s out the window.”

My eyes flickered from the gun to Zach. It was a nice piece. An H&K USP, if the barrel engravings were to be believed.

I stood as my suit finished repairing my ankle. Zach stopped groaning and squirming long enough to stare at that process with wide eyes. I shrugged at him with the gun in my hand.

“Look, here’s what I see. You’re a threat, so you can’t stay here.”

I tapped my own chest with the gun, rapping the barrel against the boxy starfish suit.

“I don’t want to kill you, so I would rather just send you away and hope you don’t come back. Tell you what, that Garthrust idiot has an appointment for today I bet. I’ll send you back home with them. Sound good to you?”

“Fuck you!” he squealed. “You killed Arms Keepers!”

“Who were trying, albeit incompetently, to kill me,” I said. I holstered the gun and crouched.

“You’re the errand boys for a multi-versal megacorp, nothing else. They’re using you to do violence against me in order to avoid doing it themselves. It’s a PR concern, that’s all. Once they’ve spent all your lives in futility, they’ll come for me in some other way.”

The painkiller started to ease up, and I realized that I wasn’t talking to him so much as I was just thinking out loud. I looked down at Zach and flicked open my knife.

“None of that is your problem. You need to start thinking about how to stay alive once I hand you over to your bosses. Something tells me they won’t like your failure.”

In the silence that followed, I went around behind him and cut the zip ties binding his hands. He clutched at his ankle, then hauled himself into a sitting position. I grabbed my phone and called Rayna as I sat back down on the stairs.

She answered again, still at the barbeque. “Yeah, boss?”

“Hey, our prisoner needs medical attention, are you available?” I asked, still staring at Zach. He inched his way carefully toward the chair, trying not to jostle his broken ankle.

“Yeah boss.” Rayna immediately stood and gestured at a nearby hobb. “How bad hurt?”

“Broken ankle for sure. Probably some mouth wounds you won’t be able to help with.” I shrugged.

She stopped walking and looked into the phone, narrowing her broad eyes at me. “Get my kit. Will be fun practice. Not used to work human.”

With that she hung up the phone. By the time she arrived and knocked at the basement door, Zach was sitting in the chair again. He was dazed, probably concussed, and drooling a little stream of blood from his lip.

Rayna came in, looked between us, and then moved over to the man. “Here to help. Do not try anything, understood?”

Zach glared up at me but nodded. Rayna got to work, and I turned to leave. “Put a guard on him please, make sure he doesn’t use BuyMort. He can keep his hands free if he behaves.”

As I opened the basement door, I heard her voice grumble, “Yeah, boss.”

Ordo stood on the other side of the door. His face and any other patch of exposed skin was discolored, and peeling. I raised my chin in greeting, and Ordo nodded back. He looked me up and down and nodded again.

“You survive down there, alone. Tough.”

“I guess,” I answered. “Felt like running for my life most of the time.” I turned and pointed to the basement door. “Hey, you guarding this guy?”

Ordo nodded. He patted his gut. “Thanks for yarsp. Good breakfast. Not mind guard duty.”

I laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, as I moved past. “Well, keep an eye out, this guy likes to do stupid shit. He’s hurt, so he should be quieter now, but still.” I turned back, my hands held out in the universal sign of ‘whatcha gonna do’.

Ordo laughed and raised his sidearm. A blocky High Point. “No worry, boss. Guard duty easy job.”

“Thanks Ordo! I’m gonna try and get rid of him later today.”

I waved over my shoulder as I entered Mr. Sada’s garage and got in the golf cart. I was sick of walking everywhere and was getting antsy to go pick up our Knowles. When I slid out into the driveway, a hobb was already opening the compound gates, and I drove right out of the parking lot. The gobbs chattered as they worked on the Tesla’s windows.

The clock ticked over onto nine AM as I passed through the second gate into the campground proper. A hobb on guard duty stood in the road and raised a fist to their chest as I passed by. I returned the gesture. Molls and Phyllis were still on the porch, but Doofus had wandered off. He seemed happier now, with BuyMort.

No longer was the giant Malamute just stuck. Uncomfortable and trapped in his back yard. The hobbs recognized Doof as an equal, and treated him accordingly, opening gates and allowing him free access to the compound like any other person.

The exception was that he was allowed to go visit Mr. Sada’s compound if he liked, and nobody else was if they weren’t on duty. Even Rayna and Tollya seemed to avoid Mr. Sada’s mansion, though I assumed that was merely because they didn’t like him very much.

Not many of us did. A pang entered my chest and I allowed a little worry to seep in despite everything. Damn asshole was basically my adoptive asshole father, all things considered. I hoped that last talk had truly straightened things out.

I spotted Doofus as I drove the golf cart into the parking lot and parked near the entrance. He was lounging in the shade of my new pickup truck and watching the remnants of the barbeque.

Most of the humans had been fed and were returned to whatever they did with their lives now that BuyMort had come, and they lived at my campground. Presumably being useful in some manner, but that could just be staying out of the way on some days.

I’d have jobs for them all soon enough, tasks for everyone who chose to live at the compound, but for now I’d stay focused on keeping them safe. Us Nu-Earth humans were dying all over the place, and it seemed important to keep the rest of us safe from all that

The campground’s picnic area was right off the parking lot and consisted of a large patch of desert hardpack with a scattering of old wood and metal tables, and a row of basic charcoal BBQ standing grills.

Most of what was left was hobbs, but there was one human still lingering. A young woman I hadn’t seen before, clutching a pad of paper and sitting at the outside of the gathered hobbs.

None of them interacted with her, but they were all clearly aware of her presence. She appeared to be drawing a sketch of them, by the movement of her hands.

When she turned and saw my black helmet staring at her, she hurriedly gathered her notebook and left, walking stiffly toward a cluster of tents in the old RV section.

Chapter 16

BlueCleave had put on a hell of a barbeque, and it looked like we had gone through most of the yarsp meat already.

Made sense, with no real way to store it.

I saw the cook stuffing cubes of the uncooked white meat into a large pot, but I assumed that was lunch or dinner prep. There was still a handful of servings of the browned seared yarsp as well, but it looked like the hobbs were going to finish that off before dispersing.

Tollya was there, and she had a heaping plate of her own. There was a great deal of vegetables as well as meat, and I marked a pile of hash browns as a good target for a lunchtime snack while I sat to think.

Without refrigeration, daily food purchases would be needed, and I realized my mistake in shopping that morning.

Asking Lee for enough to last a few days meant nothing without any way to store the food, and it was smarter to only purchase what we were sure to need that day. I added cold food storage to my mental list of upgrades.

The Afflqwst app pinged the addition automatically, making me jump out of my skin. That automation upgrade was interesting. I wasn’t sure I liked it very much at that moment.

Thankfully, Doofus distracted me. He grunted and lifted himself up off the blacktop, before plodding over to the golf cart and climbing on board.

His fur was starting to come back in, I could see stubble across his entire body now. It tickled and poked me as I rubbed his head, and he lolled his jaws open at me. When I stopped scratching his head, Doofus leaned on me and licked my helmet exactly one time. I leaned back, and he sighed in contentment.

“Good to see you buddy. Thanks again for last night. You’re a very good boy.”

My hand reached up to scratch the underside of his chin as I relaxed a little, and his tongue lolled in response. We sat in the golf cart together for almost fifteen minutes, and it was the most peaceful part of my day.

Then the hobb in the apron started cleaning up after the morning feast, and I grunted as I got up to go secure a plate of lunch. Doofus followed me, of course.

Doggy dude loved the hobbs. They seemed to be growing fond of him as well, as several knew his name and he happily wandered through them, licking yarsp grease from fingers and wagging his tail for scraps. I sat down and had a lovely breakfast of Bok Choy and hashbrowns.

After scanning the horizon and deciding I was too hungry to care, I took my helmet off to wolf down my meal. The hobb in the apron approached just as I was shoveling food in my mouth. In his hands he held a plate of seared yarsp.

The meat looked like cooked bacon fat and smelled roughly the same. All I could see when I looked at it was the panther sized wasp that tried to snap my head off by crawling in the truck with me.

The hobb frowned at the look on my face but shrugged and put the plate down again. “Hard to beat yarsp. What meat you like if not yarsp?”

I blanched, staring at the plate of seared meat. “Sorry, I’m sure it's very good. I just don’t eat bugs.”

The cook’s frown deepened, and his eyes furrowed to a comical level. “No eat bugs? You only eat plants.” He nodded. “I understand.”

I shook my head, chewing my hashbrowns. They were salted delightfully, but I missed having them with butter. “I like beef, pork, chicken. Normal meats.”

The cook nodded. “Ah.” He blew his cheeks out and leaned back on the table. “Didn’t all those get BuyMort?”

I blinked, fork half-way up to my mouth. “Like Doofus.”

The hobb nodded. He idly reached for a slab of seared yarsp and tore a chunk off with his teeth. I continued eating my bok choy and hashbrowns, but I glanced at the yarsp meat occasionally. The cook shrugged and returned to cleaning up.

I noticed he was pouring the bigger serving plates grease remnants into tin cans and waved him back over. Upon my request for information, he revealed that the grease was used to keep any remnant meat preserved by keeping the outer layer moist.

And the excess could be sold for a low amount of morties. It served as general purpose cooking and gobb machine grease. He happily gave me two cans of it for the suet cake I had planned, and I stored them in my grenade bag alongside the pumpkin seeds.

Doofus rejoined me, stopping to sniff up at the plates with leftovers. He casually lifted his front end up on the seat of the table and stole a strip of yarsp meat. The hobb in the apron saw it happen and didn’t react at all, aside from a small smile.

Doofus brought his prize over to me and curled up behind my seat to munch it noisily down. I finished my plate and stood to deliver it to the cook. He took it with a nod, and I thanked him before turning to see Doofus sitting at the passenger door of my new truck.

Smart dog.

“No, buddy. You can’t come with,” I told him as I approached. He looked at me, huffed, then looked back to the truck’s door.

I picked up my helmet from the table and walked over to the dog.

“Doofus, listen.” I knelt at his side. “I have to go on a dangerous trip to pick up people who will help us. It’s not safe for you to go.”

He stared at me the entire time I spoke to him, head cocked partially. When I finished, he gave a low woof, placed one of his paws on my knee, and then turned to look at the truck door again.

“Doof, buddy, no. Look, there’s the Dearth Conglomerate after me. They have tanks. At the least, if their idiot militia goons figure out where I am, they’re gonna come shooting. Then there’s the yarsps, which will literally tear us apart if they get half a chance. Possible dream storms, and who knows what other lethal bullshit to deal with.”

I paused and started scratching his head again. “I don’t know how much of that you understand, but I really don’t want to put you in harm’s way Doof.”

Doofus pulled his head away from my scratchies, looked me directly in the eyes, and then woofed lightly at the truck door.

I gave up, stood, and popped the door for him. “Alright, fine. You can come, but you’re wearing a seat belt.”

Doofus happily climbed aboard and started sniffing the giant sword wound in the back seat. Falcor had cut a large swath through the material in the back, but Doof was happy enough to climb up on the rear passenger seat and curl up comfortably, once he was done sniffing everything.

I gathered up the remaining weapons from the truck and started piling them on the table I had used for breakfast. I had destroyed two handguns when I cut the front seat in half, but everything else had survived.

We had an additional five semiautomatic handguns, including the one I wore, and four AR-15 rifles, with extra magazines for each, and holsters for each of the handguns.

Tollya wandered over from her table to whistle at the armaments. “Good guns?”

I nodded. “All yours Tollya. Do me a favor and make sure they get in the hands of hobbs who need upgrades.”

“Of course, boss,” she said. Her eyes were still on the guns, and as she approached, she ran a gray hand along the barrel of one of the rifles. Then she suddenly blinked and turned to look at me. “These for us? For hobbs?”

I nodded again. “Yeah.”

I remembered the .40 caliber at my own hip and hurriedly unstrapped the holster. After adding it to the pile, I waved my hands.

“I’m not a good shot with anything but a shotgun, so I don’t want any of them. Take em. Better security is better security, and I want BlueCleave carrying the best we can manage.”

Tollya looked at the spread of weapons again, then turned and straightened her spine. She hit her chest with a closed fist and nodded at me. After that, she started gathering them up to carry back. A few other hobbs came over to help, and they bustled off the weaponry.

I got in the Toyota, pausing to look at the outside of it. The passenger side had been dented and scratched to shit, with two separate pile ups of yarsps slamming into it. The door still worked, and its window was miraculously intact, if cracked. I didn’t dare try to lower it, with dents visible from the inside.

Doofus grunted at me when I got in, then went back to panting. I turned the ignition and got the ac blowing, changing one of the vents to hit him right in the face. He happily licked his chops and settled comfortably in front of the AC for a post breakfast nap as I started shopping.

BuyMort was only too happy to pop up, and when I went to check the affiliate, I saw that Mr. Sada had dropped ten million morties into our operational account, which I controlled. I shook my head. The amount he had gotten from the spider farm was in excess of two-hundred million.

“Whatever,” I muttered, before swiping the entire amount over to Rayna’s account with a note that said, “For Sleem.” It’d be enough for now. And when I needed more, I’d just head over to his room and talk it out of him.

Then I started searching for a new shotgun, with a sad glance at the slagged ruin on the floor beside me. On a whim, I mentally typed in ‘Mossberg Shockwave’ into the search bar.

BuyMort did indeed have several of them for sale, from various affiliates all over the planet and beyond. I sat and browsed for a while, not feeling particularly rushed.

Weaponry was a sizeable market, for reasons that should be obvious at this point, so I had a lot of options to scroll through. I narrowed it down a bit by keeping the search results limited to size.

My preference was the sawed off, I had yet to find a use for myself to be engaged in combat beyond what a sawed-off shotgun could provide, and I was most comfortable with that type of weapon.

There was a small thought in the back of my head that I would expand my horizons later on, if there was a later on. Right then, what mattered was something I knew I could use well. A series of ads popped up and I selected a few and then rolled through them.

THIS GUN IS LOADED . . . INTRODUCING THE ALL-NEW MERLIN THUNDER STICK.

AMERICAN KNOW-HOW MIXED WITH ALIEN TECHNOLOGY GUARANTEED TO MAKE YOUR NEXT KILL OUT OF THIS WORLD. 150,000 morties, 4 stars.

PEERLESS DOUBLE-BARREL FAT GAUGE

NEW FAT GAUGE TECHNOLOGY LETS THE PEERLESS DOUBLE-BARREL FIT AND FIRE ANY SHOTGUN SHELLS. FITS AN AUTOMATIC RELOAD MAGAZINE INTO THE STOP, AUTOLOADING ANY SHELL INTO THE CHAMBER FOR FAST BLAST ACTION.

PEERLESS — BLASTING HOLES IN PEOPLE’S BUSINESS SINCE 1862. WE’RE A FAMILY BRAND! 170,000 morties, 4.3 stars.

HELL IS HERE - AND SO IS HIGHWATER BLAST SHOCK!

CERAMIC-HELIUM ALLOY, RAD-POLYMER GRIPS, THIS COMBAT SHOTGUN TAKES THE BEST OF TERRAN DESIGN AND BUYMORT MATERIALS, MAKING A WEAPON SO DAMN POWERFUL CHARLTON HESTON JUST DROPPED HIS GUN FROM HIS COLD DEAD HANDS.

CAN FIRE ALL SORTS OF EXOTIC AMMUNITION INCLUDING PLASMA AND LASER BURSTS. 1,300,000 morties, 4.9 stars.

Honestly all of them sounded fine. But I had the morties and the last one, though the most expensive, sounded like it’d last under the sort of pressure I’d been handing out to myself and my weaponry. I purchased it and waited eagerly for the pod.

When the weapon arrived next to my new truck, I happily opened the box with my knife and pulled out my new shotgun to inspect it. The barrel was white metal and reminded me of Molls’ armor. The receiver and trigger were the same material, but the slide and grip were made of orange polymer of some kind.

It even came with its own sling, made of synthetic fiber.

The ad had claimed the barrel and all internal parts were constructed from a ceramic helium alloy, and the cost was far higher than my old shotgun because of that.

But this thing clearly stated it was capable of firing even plasma ammunition without heat damage. It was light too, easy to handle even with a slightly longer barrel than I was used to.

I reverently set it down before myself and happily loaded it with my remaining laser slugs and set it down to lean against the center console.

Then I turned back to see Doofus in the seat and remembered I had promised him a seat belt. A quick purchase on BuyMort, and he was in a brand-new harness, belted into the back seat. He huffed as we pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the gate.

“Hey, I don’t wanna hear it. You need a seatbelt even more than I do, you wanna go through the windshield?”

I gave a pensive look at his section. It was already cracked, with fissures in the glass spreading out from the corner by the door.

He whined from the back. A short whine, more frustration than any kind of request.

“Nope, don’t care. You wanted a ride in the car during the apocalypse, so you’re wearing a seat belt. Deal with it buddy, I am not picking up your pieces from the road out there.”

I glanced at him in the rear view, and he yawned before curling up in the seat. His new seat belt capable harness allowed for free movement, so long as he didn’t activate the seatbelt by moving too fast.

The gate swung closed behind us and several armed hobbs watched us go from atop the wall. I shot a text to Axle, letting him know I was on the way to pick them up.

My MortMobile rang back almost immediately. I answered it and his face appeared from out of the psychic fog before dropping it in the nearby cupholder.

“Glad to hear you’re on the way, we have a yarsp problem.”

His voice was strained, and he was panting. When I looked at the phone, I could see that he was running. The phone itself appeared to be in a pocket of some kind because I could see ground moving past the camera and the occasional blurry paw, but otherwise nothing useful.

“Think we stumbled across their nest, cause oh boy is there a lot of these things coming,” he gasped. The Knowle panted for a few seconds before adding, “they don’t usually care this much unless you disturb their nest.”

“Where are you two? I’ll be there as fast as I can.” I pressed the pedal down, and Doofus sat up in the backseat to look around.

“Jada! Send our new boss man a ping, yeah?” Axle panted.

A voice to his side sounded up. “Already on it baby.” She wasn’t as winded as Axle, but it was a close thing. They both sounded like they had been running since we last spoke.

Something on my phone chimed, and my helmet’s map suddenly vanished. In its place was a circular loading icon and the word ‘updating.’

When it came back a few seconds later, I had a pulsing dot on my map to follow. I had been following the ten north, and the dot seemed to indicate that was the right direction. I waved as I drove past Lee’s compound, but nobody on the wall waved back.

“His hobbs seem grumpier than ours,” I thought as I drove. I wondered what had happened to change their demeanor since that morning.

The helmet GPS wanted me to go off-road a few miles past the farm, so I focused on the mini-map and made it expand. The line led up into the national forest a short way, but the dot was getting closer to the edge of the forest too.

“Hold on, Doof!”

I veered off into the desert on a dirt road. I had to slow considerably to stay on course, but the truck handled the rough terrain well. I only became nervous when I saw a pickup truck in my rearview mirror, following the same dirt road I had taken. It was a minor incline to the forest, and they had stayed far enough behind me to avoid notice until the dirt road.

At that moment I realized that I really didn’t like being followed.

I fumed and stared in the mirror, getting more and more pissed off as the truck continued following me. The dirt road led up to the forest's edge, and just as I was deciding to stop the truck to deal with my pursuers, Axle and Jada broke the tree line.

They were sprinting directly toward me on all fours, taking great bounding strides with each step. The canid people looked for all the world just like giant hyenas in that moment, aside from all the gear strapped to their bodies.

Jada had her mace in a series of tight straps, and both Knowles were wearing full sized backpacks. The packs seemed to loop around their legs as well as arms, and I could see why. They ran without impediment to their movement, in spite of both clearly carrying heavy loads.

As I turned the wheel and headed off road to meet them, I saw why. A horde of yarsps flooded from the trees behind them, hundreds of them streaming from the trees. Once they were on open ground, the yarsps picked up speed and began forming orderly rows as they swarmed toward the Knowles.

I rolled a little further on the gas and apologized to Doofus for the bumpy ride. He was partially in the backseat, bracing himself against the truck’s floor with two paws. The seat belt held his body mostly in place as the truck bucked and jolted against the uneven terrain.

I cut in toward the forest, angling the truck to pick them up on the run. It was clear there would not be time for them to slow their pace.

“Hold your direction, I’m going to line up and pick you both up at speed.”

I cut the wheel to line up better, then pressed on the gas pedal harder. The pursuit truck picked up their pace when they saw me go off-road entirely, and Doofus grunted from his precarious position on the back seat.

I glanced in the rear-view mirror to see him staring at the other vehicle through the rear windshield, posture stiff. A low growl sounded, before being cut off by a bounce in the road.

The truck held up, but the terrain was more than I was ready to drive on. I approached from the side of the running Knowles, and reduced speed to match them. Axle and Jada both veered toward me as the swarm of yarsps closed in.

The Knowles were faster runners, and Jada leapt easily into the truck’s banged up cargo compartment. Axle kept running and moved alongside the passenger door. I hit the unlock button and reached over to pop the door, and he quickly grabbed the sides to pull himself in.

His paws were huge, easily twice the size of my hand. I noticed the instant his clawed fingers gripped the doorframe. He ran on his hind legs briefly, before pulling himself fully inside the cabin and yanking the door closed behind himself.

The giant canid alien extended a furry paw to me and grinned, ignoring the coat of froth on his own chest. It dripped from his jaws, covering his neck and upper torso.

“Axle. Great to meet you.”

He gripped the dashboard in a crouch, waiting for my response as we jostled and bounced through the desert. I reached out quickly and gripped his paw, shaking it once before returning to the wheel.

“Tyson,” I said. “Good to meet you too Axle. Does your partner want to come in the cabin too?”

We both glanced at the rear-view to see Jada braced in the truck bed, legs spread wide as she brandished her heavy mace. The yarsps were faster than the truck on open ground, without a road, and the outrunners began to catch up to us.

Doofus was busily sniffing Axle, who quickly shoved his way behind my seat and strapped in. Then he started sniffing Doofus back.

Doofus growled lightly and turned away.

“Doofus! Be nice,” I tried to chastise him, but he just looked out the back window and growled at our pursuers. “Hey, I tried to warn you buddy, this is what a ride in the car is now. Not a fun time.”

Jada whooped and I heard something crunch with impact. Axle glanced out the rear window and smiled. “Ah, Jada. Exercising her instincts,” he sighed.

I looked in my side view mirror to see her swing her mace and crush the skull of an attacking yarsp, knocking it back and tripping up a few of its friends. The female Knowle laughed and leaned to swing on her other side, taking out another yarsp.

The pursuit vehicle had stopped in the dirt road, and as I drove the truck toward them, I could see militia climbing down, each with rifles.

“Jada, get down!” I shouted.

She did, dropping into the truck bed and covering her head. Axle crouched as low as he could get, but his back stuck up anyway.

Knowles were larger than humans, and the truck cabin was cramped with him inside. I lowered my head and turned the wheel to put more desert between us and the militia vehicle.

Bullets rattled through the cabin, coinciding with several muzzle flashes from the truck. Doofus ducked as the last window in the cabin smashed out, bits of safety glass bouncing from his skin. He growled and stuck his head outside, before unleashing a single bark.

The sonic boom from the dog’s weapon kicked up a cloud of dust as it rocketed across the desert and slammed into the militia vehicle. The truck lifted from its wheels and groaned as it fell over sideways.

Around it, the men with guns were all knocked off their feet.

I cut the wheel and turned back for the dirt road, leading my swarm of yarsps with me.

I drove past the group of armed men still trying to pick themselves up off the desert floor, and I honked my horn at them once. The yarsps swarmed over the area and did the rest.

What a fuckin’ way to go.

Jada peeked up in my rearview mirror and watched, dispassionately as the yarsps went to work. I heard a few screams, but just pressed on the gas pedal harder.

The swarm faltered, distracted by their new prey. Only a few of them continued the chase after us, and I picked up enough speed to leave them behind once we reached blacktop again.

Doofus shifted and yelped, and I glanced back to see blood. His seat had become full of broken glass, and when he moved to get more comfortable, a small chunk of glass embedded in his side.

“Axle, can you help him please?” I met eyes with the Knowle in my rear-view mirror, and he nodded. “Doofus, Axle is a friend. Be nice.”

The dog huffed back at me, as if to say that he was always nice.

“May I?” Axle asked, and when I looked at them in the rearview, Doofus started panting. Axle reached gently for the dog’s side and removed the chunk of glass with his claw.

I watched out of the corner of my eye while holding the truck steady on the road. He pulled piece after small piece of glass from Doofus’ seat and placed them in a small, dirty, cloth bag he produced from a pocket. With a few more quick sweeps of his hairy paw, the Knowle pronounced the seat clean, and Doofus leaned back to get comfortable.

His glass wound was minor, but I made a note to clean it when we got back, half expecting Afflqwst to throw it on a list for me. It didn’t.

I waved again as we drove past Sundew Valley Farms, but none of the wall-top hobbs responded. The return journey was peaceful, and the gates opened to welcome us in, before swinging back in place behind us.

When we parked, I made everyone get out on the driver’s side, avoiding any more problems with broken glass, and then sold the rest of it to BuyMort to clean it up.

I mentally thanked Rayna for the tip, that was a silver lining with this entire situation. At least it made cleaning up easier.

Axle offered his paw to help Jada down, and she smiled at him before accepting. Her smile was particularly toothy as Axle bent to clean Doofus’ wound with a small wipe from his first aid kit.

Doofus wagged his tail at Jada until Axle caught him with one arm, holding him in place and growling.

Doofus growled back, but when Axle released him, he turned away and sauntered off. He was heading in the direction of Phyllis’ trailer, so I didn’t bother trying to stop him.

Chapter 17

“Well. He’s kind of a dick.” Jada leaned against Axle suggestively, and he chuckled.

I turned and frowned at the Knowle. “Not in my experience,” I said.

“He didn’t even say thanks to you for helping him baby.” Jada idly played with the wet fur on Axle’s chest, and I grimaced.

“He doesn’t have speech,” I retorted. Doofus was my friend, and I wasn’t going to let these guys talk shit about him.

“Oh it’s just boy shit babe, don’t worry about it.” Axle pushed away from her gently, turning to face me. His tongue still lolled, but he was breathing easier already. Jada nipped at his chin, but he merely smiled at her. “Jada, business.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes but turned away to go lounge on a nearby picnic table. Axle turned and shrugged at me.

“Don’t worry, we won’t be getting in any fights. Jada feels like she has to put on a show of not liking your dog because he’s a valid sexual competitor for me, that’s all. That’s the relationship on this planet, right? Humans own dogs? He’s yours?” He leaned casually against the truck as he spoke.

“Ah, yeah, sort of. Not me and Doof, he chose me to be his best friend. Mr. Sada used to own him though.” When I finished talking, I scanned the horizon before removing my helmet. Axle nodded at me when I turned back to face him.

“Seems odd. Some people say you own them, some people say they are family. Could you own family before BuyMort?” He wiped at his own chest, slinging away some of the froth.

“Um,” I started. “Not supposed to, no, the distinction was more about legal status within the government. I never thought of dogs as property, but that’s technically what they were.”

“Ah. I see.” His tail stopped wagging, and his ears tilted back. “Dogs were unable to participate in your governmental systems, so they were not offered rights and protections like the rest of you. Exactly what Knowles face on every BuyMort world.”

I blinked. His line of reasoning made me stop and think. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. Dogs aren’t . . . people though. You guys are.”

“Something tells me people meant humans on this world, before BuyMort. What is the singular form of people?” he asked.

“Person.” I adjusted my belt unconsciously. Really didn’t need the new pants Lee had bought me, which were a little over-sized, falling down in front of my new employee while he interrogated me.

“Would you agree that what makes a person a person is primarily a personality?” His paw extended casually, and after a pause, I nodded.

“Yeah. Shit.” I scowled at the pavement.

Axle stepped forward and clapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry about the past. Nu-Earth is a new world now. If you want to treat dogs like people, treat them like people. Certainly won’t harm anything to do so.”

His tail was wagging softly again, and his ears were more relaxed. “I’m just glad to see that you can hear reason, if we’re going to be working together.”

I nodded and snapped my fingers. “Speaking of.”

Axle nodded, raising his own hand to stop me. “You mentioned something about an urgent need for a freshwater source?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.” I motioned to the picnic table Jada was seated at and started toward it. Axle followed and sat down beside his mate. I sat across from them both.

“Right. Here’s my situation. I’m trying to get this affiliate off its feet and sustainable. Right now we just have the wall completed, and some basic shelter in the form of tents. I got us a small generator earlier for mobile power needs, but it’s limited.”

“For use by security forces primarily, I assume.” Axle added.

“Yes, but our civilian population can use it as long as it doesn’t disrupt security.” I continued.

“We have everything you see here to work with, plus a large, underground facility.” I paused and raised my eyebrows. “Once I clear out the Sleem infestation.”

Jada’s eyes widened at that. “Sleem? I knew this was too good to be true.”

She reached for her pack and grabbed a map of the area, before unfolding it on her side of the table.

The giant humanoid hyena across from me started casually muttering to herself and marking on the map with a sharpie. “No more forest, we know the yarsps are nesting there. . .”

I glanced between her and Axle, and he chuckled. “She’s picking our next route. If this doesn’t work out.”

“Oh,” I said.

He barked a short laugh and shook his head. “Don’t worry brother, just negative visualization. Helpful tactic, just in case. You say you’re going to clear out the Sleem personally?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m in charge of the whole place, and pretty good at killing Sleem. We’re hoping to just contain them though, I mapped out their lair last night and found a place I think has potential.”

Jada’s eyebrow raised. Axle nudged her. “Sleem farms are good money. Steady market.”

“Why is that?” I asked on an impulse. Axle seemed smart and knowledgeable so far. He proved my instincts right.

“Oh, demand. So much demand for Sleem bodies. They put that shit in everything, excuse my language.” He glanced at me, but when I shrugged and waved a hand, he continued.

“Yeah, Sleem carcasses can be easily rendered into thousands of useful items. Primarily, it’s a cheap and easy way to make gelatin, which goes in everything. Once rendered, Sleem are perfectly safe for consumption by most sapient species. A great many affiliates make Sleem based products.”

I grimaced. “Gelatin?”

Axle chuckled. “Horrible, isn’t it? Your soap, shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste. Everything in a standard bathroom has Sleem in it. Rendered Sleem is used in the creation of wet mud-crete, so it’s a primary construction material. It’s used in the construction of partially conductive plastics, so massive in the electronics department. Sleem is in fuckin everything, it’s disgusting. Don’t get me started about the kitchen either.”

“My gran’paw was allergic to Sleem.” Jada said idly, without looking up. “Made findin’ food on BuyMort hard.”

Axle rubbed his shoulder against her gently, and she reached over to nip his exposed arm. I smiled politely and nodded. “Huh.”

“Yeah.” She said, looking directly at me without changing the angle of her head. “Sleem farms are good money. You get them contained and we’ll think about staying.”

I shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, I can’t really blame you on that. Our hobbs are up on the situation and patrolling for them pretty much all day and night.”

I gestured in the distance, where a group of three armed hobbs were casually strolling through the tents, engaged in idle conversation.

I could see that the conversation was an act, for the benefit of the people they protected. Each of them was looking hard at any dark shadows and checking the mud-crete capped sewer pipes in each site.

Axle watched them for a few seconds and nodded. “Nobody wants to live with Sleem. You’ll kill them, or they’ll kill you. If they kill you, we leave, no offense.”

My laugh caught the attention of a passing raven, who dipped a wing and cawed. Axle looked up at the passing bird.

“Oh, that reminds me,” I said. “The ravens here are partners in our affiliate, they scout for us. If you leave any trash around, they like to gather that stuff and sell it, so feel free. Please don’t hurt any of them, if you decide to stay.”

Axle nodded understandingly. “Don’t worry. Shall we talk more about the affiliate's basic needs?”

“Yes please.” I folded my hands together on the table, and we got into it.

“How much is your operational budget?” He asked.

“We don’t have one.” I instantly responded.

“Oh. Okay. How much do you have set aside for this project?” he tried again.

“Nothing right now. I was hoping you would give me an estimate on how much it would cost first?” I squinted as I asked.

Axle nodded slowly, staring at me, and nibbling on the inside of his own cheek. “Huh. Not how we usually work.”

Jada raised her eyebrows and cocked her head. “Unprofessional. Corpo-divergent.”

Axle’s expression darkened and he turned to look at her. I raised a hand and shook my head.

“That’s okay. I’m not professional, and I know it. It wasn’t professional to come out and pick you guys up when I have militia after my head. Or to make an enemy of the Dearth Conglomerate in the first place.”

I leaned back in my seat and stretched my back a little. My late night and poor sleep were starting to catch up to me, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

Almost though. My psychic phone read 11:23 AM when I checked the time. “I’m just trying to survive it and protect those I’m with.”

Axle shared a look with Jada and they both nodded. “You guys are famous back at our previous compound,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s where those militia boys are camped out. The yarsp nest in the forest should keep them away for a while.” Jada added, still staring at her map.

“Unless they just take the long way around, here.” Her pen traced a short arc from the city around the top of the forest and down the road directly to us.

Axle glanced around. “Exposed here.” He pointed to the walls enclosing the compound.

“Goblin construction has one major benefit. It’s cheap. To take proper advantage is to use the service in bulk. If you have even a small budget, I can guide improvements to your compound security just by refining what you have in place.”

“Sounds like if we did that, which I would love, we should probably install some basic housing and infrastructure at the same time?” I drummed my fingers on the table as I started to understand Axles skillset. He really did know a ton of stuff.

He nodded, licking his nose.

“Yes and no. Don’t go overboard and pay for things you can’t really use right now, but if you intend to upgrade the housing situation here, a goblin construction contract for . . . say, half a million morties in the current market? Could get you something significantly more secure and comfortable.”

The Knowle looked around, focusing on the tents. “Basic mud-crete huts are warm in the winter, cool in the summer. Solid walls, good sound insulation. Decent comfort for most species, easily upgraded to include water and power, and a reasonable amount of protection against most dream storms.”

“Well I am sold like mold.” I swiped up my BuyMort affiliate account to see that Mr. Sada had transferred another two million. It felt guilty, and I instantly knew what he was doing.

The idiot child was torturing himself about how much of his new fortune to provide for the affiliate. The first ten million had been his biggest gut reaction, but now he was fully aware of how pathetically small an amount it was compared to what he had acquired by brutalizing our fledgling spider ranch.

The extra two million was his way of trying to make it feel like he was being generous.

Whatever. I sighed and swiped two million into the Knowles affiliate expense account.

Giving Access to Affiliate Accounts. By enrolling others into your Silken Sands Affiliate Services, you assert that, as owner, joint owner or custodian on the accounts represented in your enrollment, you understand that all owners of your accounts or anyone with whom you share your access will be an Authorized User, and that authority will be considered limited only in the ways that you have specified. In all other regards, said service affiliate retains full authority to perform all transactions relating to the stated accounts, until you notify BuyMort and amend the agreement accordingly. Each transaction will also carry a BuyMort auxiliary transaction fee to expedite the services.

I’m not going to lie. I read every word of that. In the old world, I wouldn’t have, but here I was, being a lawyer type to a tee. I seethed at the auxiliary transaction fee. But in the end, I clicked yes.

I mean, where the hell else was I going to go? Everything was BuyMort. Your corporate and consumer-friendly, neighborhood-level stranglehold.

The account limited what they could spend it on and required my approval before any sale, so I expected the morties I provided to accomplish several goals.

I figured that amount was a good place to start, and once I knew them a bit better, we could expand that to more automation and funding. Assuming they helped in the way they said they could and didn’t cause me trouble.

“I would love to install some upgrades for my spider ranch, so I’ve allocated more funding than you requested. Do try to keep some of it for water acquisition, but focus on the basic housing upgrades we discussed, and the spider ranch.”

My smile was genuine, driven by a rare glimmer of hope. Assuming Dearth didn’t start taking us seriously and crush us before we could establish, or Mr. Sada didn’t fuck us over beyond my ability to fix, I was starting to suspect we had a legitimate chance.

Axle, Jada, and I left the parking lot in the golf cart as I took them on a tour. Axle sat up front and directed me to different areas as we went, and Jada took extensive notes in a rapid shorthand that I was totally unable to read.

Knowle language was flowing and utilized imagery in its lettering that I found evocative. After she caught me trying to watch her write several times, Jada turned so I could no longer see the pad.

First, we went over to the residential area, as Axle called it. Several sites were in use already, with many tents set up. It had been our main camping area, with three long rows of spaced-out sites.

Most of the humans in residence were scattered into several groups, some had more than one tent on a site, but for the most part they spread out.

The hobbs did the opposite and clumped up. Each of their tents was near other tents, and they only resided in camping sites that were right next door to each other.

Several common areas were established between sites.

Axle nodded as I explained the water and power hookups, the septic pipes, and why they had to be covered.

“Well, it’s easy enough to remove mud-crete once the Sleem are contained. We can use all of that without much issue. It’s also easy to dig up and move surface level pipes or wiring as needed for the new housing.”

He casually waved a paw. Without warning a series of menus flipped into my vision, each of them labeled for a different domestic category. My eyes widened in wonder, even as my head bent backward from the sudden onslaught.

“But if you’d like to cut to the chase, I have an Affiliate I like to do all of my business through. They specialize in First-Year Civilizations, FYCs for short, and they do a lot of good work at pretty good rates.”

I frowned. “Should I assume you get a cut of those rates?”

“I’d think you were an idiot if you didn’t. But in my line of work, I only sign in on cuts with groups that I respect. I’ve got a real reputation to protect if you get what I mean.”

I couldn’t see him well enough to lock eyes with him, so I gave him a thumbs up. When he didn’t react, I sighed. “Yeah, let’s narrow this down to the affiliate. What have you got for me?”

The files folded into themselves, imploding from existence, and disappearing into some nether world. Or else giving me cancer. Didn’t matter, not with my starfish ready to grind and grow.

In places of the files, I was presented with video, streamed directly into my skull. A giant field, with homes of different shapes, styles and sizes extending in every direction. Above me, in the sunny blue of an Earth-type atmosphere, the few clouds clotted together to form words.

WELCOME TO LEAHCIM CONSTRUCTION AND DOMESTICS

As my eyes read the words a small biplane buzzed through, adding more cloud words to the sky.

SAY “SAME DAY” FOR OUR NO FUSS MUST HAVE SAME DAY LOANS AND DEFERRED PAYMENT PLAN

I swear I crossed my eyes at that. I’d taken a same day loan once in my life and by the time I’d paid that bastard off, it’d amounted to 2000% of what I’d gotten in the first place.

And that was before BuyMort.

Hard pass.

Still, Axle recommended this place, and I was happy enough to give it a go. I knew from previous experience with these affiliates that the ad space they used was all time-compressed anyways, so I could wander a bit and take a breather.

You know, examine these things thoroughly. Even try them on for size. Assuming these memory files or whatever the hell they really were had to show the truth.

Peering about, I noticed that I was at a crossroads of sorts. If I were to dissect what I could see into four distinct quadrants, I would put up signs saying Upper-class, Middle-class, Lower-class, and Holy-Damn-That-Sucks.

Some of the homes in the last were simply tents, boxes and even a barrel. With price tags that really put cost of living into perspective.

I moved to investigate the first of these structures, a wooden cube that opened on the one side and wasn’t tall enough to stand up in. My eyes goggled when I realized, though, that it was bigger on the inside than the outside. Not massively so, but enough to qualify as a studio apartment in most big cities.

BACHELOR BLOCK - Easy to transport, requires little land to place . . .

Why go big when your family is so small? Bachelor block is perfect for the unbound gentleman, the man on the move, the guy that all women seek to tie down but can’t.

Why not seek the best in single living?

Be Budget-conscious and brave. Buy Bachelor Block. 150,000 morties, 4.1 stars.

I was intrigued. I wasn’t going to buy it. Or was I? We had lots more room than this in practically every structure.

But a bunch of these could house an army in a small space. Leaving the rest of the land to cultivation. Growing food out of the system, sustaining themselves off the grid. Or growing more silk, assuming that market didn’t crash.

I mentally favorited the item for later perusal, then examined the devices within it.

But honestly, I didn’t need to look for buildings at all, as Axle had told me he was going to provide designs for the goblin work crews to use.

Despite my interest in seeing what was all available, I trusted his judgment to save us some money. Especially after seeing how expensive anything prefab was looking. A quick flick of my wrist switched the offers to furnishings, and I continued.

The first thing I grabbed looked like a metallic segmented ball; a scared robotic centipede rolled up into itself. I picked it up and twisted it this way and that, checking out its angles.

Segga-Bed, the rolling ball of durable comfort. Need a bed but don’t have room?

Guess again and segga-bed that shit. Segga-bed unrolls to accommodate up to two people of human height and width, and its hard exterior means that it offers fair warning against attacks from below.

Segga-Bed also comes complete with a dream alarm, warning you the user against the dark desires of your own dream purchases and waking you when it senses danger. 100,000 morties, 3.9 stars.

That was near to what I needed. I moved over to the reviews to see why they were under 4.

Damn alarm goes off constantly. Seems broken. 1 star.

Well, that sucked. I rolled up to the 4 stars, not trusting the 5’s.

Bought it for my home. Works well. The alarm function is crazy, but you can turn it off completely. Worth the buy. One star off for lying about the alarm, but whatever, it’s worth it if you’ve got the morties.

If you’ve got the morties. Yeah, I didn’t have enough to get one of these for everybody, that was for sure. I favorited this one as well, though, since it felt like something good for later, when we were settled better.

“Hey, LEAHCIM, show me more beds,” I yelled. The whole world morphed around me, changing into a huge dormitory. Like one of those metal marine Quonset huts that you see in the movies, but a million times bigger.

“Cut everything expensive, show me stuff I can buy in bulk for a buttload of people.”

There was a strange whirring and suddenly the Quonset hut was the size I was used to seeing. There were ten beds in the space, each of them peculiar in design.

“Alright,” I said to the ceiling. “Lay it on me. What are the specs?”

A beam highlighted a thing that looked like a seashell, so small that he hadn’t noticed it before.

SLEEPTIGHT - The multidimensional solution to planetary swarms. Are you worried about the mukluks swimming through the bogs? The criknats rolling over your cities and homes. The Sleem swarming everywhere, eating all organics in sight?

SLEEPTIGHT is for you. Specially designed for the war-torn hell-zone of overrun first-year planets, this multidimensional sleep space encases your exact dimensions into a sphere of existence of its own, putting you away from danger and into the restful throes of relaxing sleep-paralysis. SLEEPTIGHT stays activated for an invigorating 12 hours a day, requiring another 12 hours of recharge between uses.

Sleep safe and stay safe. SLEEPTIGHT! 25,000 morties, 3.2 stars.

“Gah,” I gasped involuntarily. It would take a nightmare of a planet to get anyone to use that product. But I understood it.

If things didn’t change hard and soon, Earth was gonna be exactly the sort of market in need of these nightmare shells.

“Basic living. That’s it. Some sort of set, beds, toilet, sink, everything that an Earth human might need. Whatcha got for me?”

The world around me pixelated briefly, then I found myself in a room that reminded me of a peasant hut mixed with modern living. There was a stove in the center, then around it were sections. A sleeping section, an eating section, a recreational section complete with a small flat viewscreen on the wall, and a bathroom section with wall shower and tiled walls.

ALL-IN-ONE RESIDENTIAL STARTER KIT.

Why live like a bum when you can scratch by as a regal peasant?

Using the massive influx of sold and used Nu-Earth goods LEAHCIM CONSTRUCTION AND DOMESTICS has put together the perfect package for quick, easy, and CHEAP worthwhile living. 40,000 morties ea., 4 stars.

That was extremely cheap, all things considered. Some part of me realized that the items were metaphorically stained with blood — that the owners of these items had almost certainly died screaming while they were robbed and looted. But this was survival, and I couldn’t ask for a better price.

I bookmarked it and figured I’d order as many as necessary when it came time. Doing it now would be jumping the gun, especially since I wasn’t sure what structures we’d be using yet. Then I exited the affiliate’s ad space, jerking a little as I came to.

Axle nodded, signaling that he knew I was back in the here and now, and he continued as if he’d never stopped talking.

“Of course, if we upgrade the power system, we’ll need to upgrade the wiring for each residence as well, so I’ll go with a design that makes future investment easier. I know just the one.”

We moved on. Jada made us cruise by both gates, and I thought about introducing them to Molls and Phyllis, but Axle shook his head when I suggested it.

“Best if we get on with the tour. We can meet folk later, in the course of our work. Be more natural that way anyhow.”

“Plus, you hate priests,” Jada muttered from the backseat. I ignored the comment.

The second patch of sites we decided to leave available for potential farmland. It had fewer sites, and I suggested leaving space for my friends to have some peace and quiet from the residential blocks.

I also explained the situation with the ravens, only to see Jada quietly making friends with one in the background.

It wasn’t Darclau, but the bird was happily nuzzling at the beads in Jada’s braided hair while she cooed at him and gently rubbed his feathers with a claw.

Down in the open desert beyond the sites, Axle and Jada walked around and took measurements while I waited in the golf cart. They clearly had plans for the area, but upon returning to the cart, neither of them wanted to share much.

“I have hopes, boss. If we end up staying, this is a good patch for some projects for us. Stuff to benefit the affiliate, don’t worry. Let’s not get bogged down in all that, keep the tour moving.”

Axle waved a hand to emphasize the task at hand.

“What about you, by the way? Where are you living?”

I sighed and shook my head. “Been crashing at my bosses the last couple nights. A friend’s before that. The Sleem stole my trailer day one.”

Axle nodded grimly. “They do that. We can get you something built in the time it takes you to clear them out from below, where would you like it? With the other residential buildings?”

My head cocked to the side. “No, actually. I have my own site, let me show you.”

I checked as we drove by, but Molls was not on Phyllis’ deck anymore. Phyllis was, but she was watching TV again.

Seemed like a good life.

Chapter 18

As we cruised into my old site, I saw the shades on Molls’ car move. She did not come out. The temperature had dropped to the point she was unlikely to exit her nice warm den without being prompted, so I left her alone.

The Knowles and I discussed what kind of housing structure to build for me, and I started getting more and more excited. There was a specific model that I’d seen with the LEAHCIM LIVING affiliate and when I saw that the units were even less than the outfittings, I was sold. Essentially mud-crete cubes, with all of the necessities and amenities to boot.

They sounded great.

For my living quarters, I was going to get a two-story house built out of mud-crete, with outlets and water hookups. They even discussed plans for a toilet and shower, which sounded like heavenly luxury to me.

I very much looked forward to using a toilet of my own again.

I had been sneaking away to pee in a bottle and sell it, when not at Mr. Sada’s. I’d also been selling my own solid waste, of course. Seemed like the thing to do in BuyMort. I had yet to try and sell something the storefront wouldn’t buy, other than the flesh tape, and honestly the prices and demand for human waste products were a little embarrassing.

Axle assured me it wouldn’t break our budget to get me an upgraded living area.

Before we left, I texted Molls about it, and she sent me back a message almost immediately indicating that she was fine with the arrangement. There was plenty of space in the site left over for her car, after all. She said she’d feel safer even, which made me smile.

Our next stop on the tour was Spider City. As I drove them over to it, we discussed the spider ranch and the silk income. Jada informed us she had it marked as a priority.

When we were on-site, I stayed back with the golf cart and let them go for a long walk around the area. The nearby mud-crete wall was far enough from their territory that the spiders didn’t try to build on it yet, but walking that area meant getting far too close to the populated part of their territory for my comfort.

Once they returned, Axle explained his idea for a set up. It would require more walls, higher, and specially shaped, to keep the spiders contained and uninterested in escape.

He also suggested a small artificial pond be installed in the central part of the area, to attract and breed water borne insects like mosquitoes.

The pathway around a tear drop shaped patch of open area was perfect, he told me. The Knowle pointed to the patch of ground Mr. Sada had torn out trees from.

“That would be a good place for a ranch building. Something for the rancher to live in, a place to store upkeep supplies, tools, etcetera.”

He nodded and crossed his arms as Jada made more notes. “I know just the design to use. Simple, but effective.”

I bit my lip and thought of Drusk, our captive mordren. “Hey, Axle?” When he looked at me, I continued, “could you make that building mordren accessible?”

Axle blinked but nodded. “It would increase the cost of the design, but the entire thing should still fall within budget. Mud-crete and gobbs are cheap.”

He swiped at the air in front of himself and added a building to the growing list on the affiliate order list. It looked like a barn, with a loft apartment.

As we left, Axle poured over the map I shared with him. It was expensive, I had to use MortMobile, because Axle’s head couldn’t fit in my helmet. After I whined about it and got a cold stare from the gray face in the fog on my phone, I paid my thousand mortie file transfer fee and got my engineer his schematics.

He shook his head suddenly.

“Take us south, to the south wall. The well is not a problem, even with the underground base. I can see an easy, cheap solution,” the Knowle said, pointing to the south wall as we approached.

Directly at the foot of the wall, a short walk from the primary residential area, Axle and Jada walked a coordinated square on the ground. Jada dragged her mace in the ground behind her, creating a solid V shape in the dirt. Axle hopped up and grinned when they finished, baring his sharp teeth again.

“This is the spot. We create a well here.”

He gestured with both arms to the large area.

“Easy well, too. The primary expense will be the exploratory piping, but with our budget, I think we should aim for something with great upgrade potential. Start with a big draw size, but a simple surface mechanism, like a bucket well for starters.”

He pointed a finger at the spot, wagging it for emphasis. “We can easily rip out or repurpose something like that later on when we focus on an upgrade phase. Right now we just need quick water.”

Jada continued walking the square with her mace, dragging behind herself in the dirt as Axle explained further.

“The dig itself will take a couple of hours, but I know a company that does this kind of thing and works quick. I think by the time you get done with your Sleem hunt we should have something significant up and running. On your approval, of course.”

He swiped a service for two-hundred and fifty thousand into the queue and took the last chunk of the two million I had set aside for him.

I took a minute to look at the entire list. The well and the spider ranch took up a goodly chunk of the budget together, but that felt normal compared to how cheap the housing came.

We weren’t even just building for the people we had, the entire main campsite area was getting filled with the LEAHCIM cottages.

They were single story residences with four basic empty rooms each, simple doors included.

Basic water and power hookup slots to allow for upgrades were included in the designs, and for an extra hundred thousand morties, I had the option to install what would become a bathroom on each residence.

I narrowed my eyes at the upsell but went with it anyway. Da Gobbs seemed like a company to keep happy, and I wanted people to have easy access to a restroom if they were going to be living here.

Axle saw my hesitation and laughed. “Pooping is important in the apocalypse,” Axle explained.

“If you can get it so people can dook in comfortable privacy, it goes a long way toward general morale and waste management. It can even prevent health-based disasters due to improper sanitation.”

The basic upgrade was a small outhouse with a simple hole in the ground. It would need to be scooped out regularly, but Axle explained that it was all temporary.

The plan was to get the underground base cleared of Sleem so we could open up our pipes and use the septic system again. The Knowle assured me he could get it up and running with minimal expense and tie the systems into the residences easily.

He explained that cutting down on the amount of work that needed to be done to upgrade from nothing helped keep overall costs low. His logic was sound, and I followed his advice, paying for the extra expense from the affiliate account.

Pods began to appear in the distance, and Axle nodded at my seat in the golf cart.

“Would you mind? I’d love to use this to coordinate the whole thing. Task me some hobbs too, we’ll need some for gobb management and security while they’re here.”

I blinked and nodded, stepping out. “Absolutely. All I need to do is round up my Sleem squad and go clear out the basement. I can walk.”

I hefted my shotgun and adjusted the scabbard for my supposedly magic sword. Then I started texting Rayna. I sent her a succession of texts that read a little something like what I imagine a maniac might send.

“Hey Rayna, good news!”

“We’re getting water, like right away water. Should only be a couple of hours.”

“Oh, but I’ll need you to coordinate with the new Knowles, Axle and Jada. They’re nice.”

“Well. Axle is.”

“Please don’t tell them I said that; I immediately regret it.”

“Just go work with them, they need some hobbs to work gobb detail.”

“We’re getting some basic housing, along with the water.”

“Oh, each house even has a bathroom!”

“I also need you for the Sleem operation, once you get that settled.”

“Gotta go deal with the mordren.”

“Both the Knowles are very nice people.”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

When I finally came to my senses and managed to stop sending texts, I had to resist the urge to send one more apologizing for all the others. As I walked toward the gate to Mr. Sada’s compound, my cheeks burned with embarrassment. Rayna sent back a single letter in response.

“K.”

I chuckled and got over it. Her response just increased my confidence in her. The camp was growing, and I needed her more and more. I was just glad she was stepping up. Everything I’d asked of her had been done well so far. I just hoped she was going to be okay with what I was about to ask of her next.

The mordren Drusk was right where I had left him, lounging in the shed. He turned to see me better with his good eye as I approached.

“Good afternoon Drusk. I have a lot going on, so I’ll keep this short. I’d like to offer you a job.” I nodded to the hobb on guard duty as he started walking away to take a break in the pool chair.

Drusk sat and stared at me but did not respond.

“I need a spider rancher, and you’re the only person I know who isn’t afraid to work directly with them.” I leaned on the door jam. “I mean it, Drusk. Serious offer.”

“I am crippled,” he growled.

“The affiliate would pay for a surgery, and if possible, enhanced recovery. The ranch would be a private residence, you would be welcome to interact with the community as much or as little as you chose, and so long as you do nothing to harm them, you could live and work here as long as you liked, for a fair share of the spider ranch itself.”

When his single eye narrowed, I raised a hand and continued.

“The majority of your share would go to paying off the surgery. From there, you could stay on if you chose to, purchase more enhancements, more surgeries to repair the damage I did. Whatever.”

He stared at me for a long moment before taking a breath. “Indenture, then.”

“No. If you say no, the old deal is still what we do. You can stay here and recover before returning to Storage for no charge. I’ll even try to get some more painkillers for you, I think the doc said you would run out today.”

The mordren nodded, a single dip of his snout. “I took my last dose this morning.”

I shook my head at him and pulled up BuyMort. “Mordren injury recovery medication.”

Drusk raised his cast encased hand. “Stop. I will take you up on your offer.” He shrugged and then winced. “I simply am trying to figure out what you get from all of this.”

“Relief of guilt, mostly.” He snorted, and I continued. “Honestly, it’s practical. You say attacking us was nothing personal, I believe you. My guilt drives me to want to help you recover, and we need a person to do this job. This way lets you work it off, helps the affiliate, and lets me feel like I didn’t ruin your life entirely.”

“If you survive what Dearth throws at you next.” He chuckled.

“Yes, there is that. You get enough upgrades, you may even be of help with that. I could pay for a good mercenary, and you could still live here if you’re helping the interests of the affiliate.”

I finished with a shrug.

“Or you can go to Storage and join your breeding program knowing you paid for your own recovery. Up to you.”

Drusk nodded. “I will stay. I want to find out how you die.”

“Awesome. It’s always important to have goals.” I produced the doctor's business card and pulled up MortMobile, focusing on his face. The deity did his thing with the fog and connected us.

“Dr. Miles.” He announced as he answered. Then he saw the helmet staring back at him and scowled. “I know you?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. This is Tyson with Silken Sands, Nu-Earth. You helped patch up some of my people a couple nights ago.” I tilted the camera to show Drusk in the background.

“Right, right. Easy ticket. Don’t tell me you’re going for the surgery?” He asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I am. We’ve come to an arrangement, and I’ll need him up and running sometime tomorrow. What’s the ballpark for that kind of surgery and recovery?” I cringed in the helmet, waiting for the answer.

Dr. Miles frowned and cocked his head. “You know, something told me you would call about this. I actually did a price check for you just this morning. Should still be relatively current.”

He grabbed a separate device and lifted it, swiping at the glass and lights.

“Whole package, you’re looking at eighty-four million. That’s my guys giving me a discount too, they don’t get mordrens in very often, and it's good to get fresh scans of ‘em whenever possible, especially during injury or illness. Those people force their evolution so much the medical community has trouble keeping up with ‘em sometimes.”

He slapped his knee, laughing at what I assumed was some sort of inside joke.

“Shall I give ‘em a call for you? Their ship is in orbit over your world, it would just be a quick shuttle ride back and forth.”

I reeled at the price tag but turned to look at Drusk. He shook his head and grunted as he slowly stood, using his tail to balance. “How much for the surgery, fast recovery on the dislocation, and a basic prosthetic for the hand?” Drusk’s voice was little more than a growl, but Dr. Miles didn’t bat an eye.

He just looked over the list on his device again and shrugged. “Eight million for the surgery at least, with the quick recovery nanite gel addon. Another two to ‘sawbones’ the hand, again with the gel. Are you sure about that, by the way?” He lowered the device and stared at Drusk through my phone.

“It’s useless. Hack it off, cap the joint and give me a hook, I’ll replace it with something better when I can afford to.” Drusk’s tail twitched, and he glared down at me. “I want the work here and need to start quickly.”

“Right. Call it in the neighborhood of ten million then. I don’t know the exact price, but so long as you’re willing to submit to the standard labs and scans, I’m sure they’ll customize the procedure to your wishes.”

Dr. Miles leaned back to the device.

“This part of the affiliate is primarily research, and the surgical wing is by referral only. You want the shuttle?”

I held the device out for Drusk. He nodded. “I can ranch spiders with one arm. Let’s get it done.”

Chapter 19

Dr. Miles smiled and nodded his head, playing with his other device.

“Right, right. Good timing too, another couple of days and that torn ligature would start bonding outside of the socket, and then it’s a real nightmare to get cleaned up.”

He spoke dismissively, tapping and prodding his device. Then, with a smile, he set it down and turned to face us.

“Right. One shuttle coming in on your location with the next orbital window. Should be there within an hour. Don’t be late or wander off, they’ll want you to authorize charges. This is all through Dearth, so its payment up front or no services provided.”

He faced back down, tapping again at his device.

“Woah, woah. Woah, Dearth? As in, the Dearth Conglomerate?” I asked.

Dr. Miles didn’t even look up. “Yes.”

“We may have some issues with them, they’re actually the company that sent Drusk to attack us.”

He gave me a quizzical look, a mixed, sort of confused and amused expression that told me I still had so much to learn about the multiverse.

A look worth a thousand words, all from over the top of his reading glasses.

“And? Different department entirely. The folks who will be doing the repair work on him won’t know anything about the attack. Nor would they care if they did. You have to realize something. Dearth is a top-ten affiliate. They’re fully multiversal,” he said.

“Fact is, Nu-Earth is merely one of thousands of affiliate related actions the company is taking on any given day, and the only thing that matters in the end is the morties.”

Dr. Miles went back to his device, speaking dismissively for the rest of his point.

“Even if you were experiencing a full-scale war from Dearth’s security branch, the surgical department of their research vessel supporting the efforts on a new planet would still be happy to take your morties.”

He snorted.

“Imagine turning your nose up at morties over anything. At their high level of BuyMort operation, the affiliate departments become so detached that minor grievances simply do not matter when there are morties on the line. Probably won’t even be noticed, definitely won’t be acted upon.”

He glanced at me once more, hovering his finger over the disconnect button. “Any further questions?”

I shook my head and the doctor hung up. Drusk grunted and turned back to his shack, moving slowly and gingerly protecting his arm from movement.

I leaned in the doorway and watched him sit back down. “Thank you for agreeing to this.”

The mordren sighed and shook his head. “It’s a good deal. I can stay on the path with this if you don’t die. If you do, I go to Storage and negotiate a better deal with the breeders.”

“Dearth may just stomp us all, you know.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Doubt it. That Arizona Board is cheap, each of them greedy and eager to beat out their fellows. They barely pay attention to places like this. I’ve seen the construction and fortification. Once they realize you’re a threat, you’ll be too expensive to easily deal with.”

Drusk fixed me with a stare. “If you take advantage of that, you might even beat them.”

I stared at him for a moment before I nodded and turned to leave. The hobb on guard duty returned to his post as I left. Rayna was in the kitchen waiting for me. She raised her chin at me as soon as I entered.

“Check security tab. Need affiliate to pay for purchase,” she grunted.

“Right, just a second,” I responded as I moved to the fridge.

I swung it open to sneak another one of Mr. Sada’s waters, but that side of the fridge had a new locking compartment attached to it.

Of course, he wasn’t giving me new keys those days, so I sighed and closed the door.

A faint tearing sound from outside distracted me, and I leaned to see out the glass doors. The sound grew louder, and I stepped outside. I shielded my eyes and looked up to the sky to see a shining dot in the sky begin burning.

It streaked down, trailing just a hint of flame as it navigated our atmosphere. When it dropped in overhead, it switched to a different mode, and a series of engines on its underside began to manipulate the air.

A visible churn of air movement could be seen as the small craft maneuvered in for a landing in the backyard, directly over the pool.

Water splashed against the underside and the landing limbs extended, the craft settling into a straddle over the swimming pool. Several hobbs arrived at a jog, but relaxed when they saw Rayna and I standing nearby.

Still, Rayna had brought her gun, so they all kept a good grip on theirs. A ramp extended from an oversized airlock and a hiss sounded in the air as the doors opened.

A female mordren walked down the ramp, dressed in hospital scrubs. She wore a set of filtration plugs in her nostrils, and holographic projectors implanted onto either side of her eyes. As soon as she stepped off the ramp, she looked us up and down, and then walked past to Drusk in his shed.

Two humans and a nah’gh exited next, wearing similar scrubs. The humans moved to assist the mordren, and the nah’gh approached Rayna and myself.

“Good afternoon, you must be Tyson.”

The nah’gh smiled and nodded in greeting, slithering to a stop before us and turning to Rayna.

“And you must be Rayna. We’re here on behalf of the Dearth Conglomerate’s medical research division, to collect Drusk for a couple of surgeries.”

I nodded. “Yes, you guys got here quick. I just arranged it with Dr. Miles.”

The nah’gh turned back to me and smiled. He clasped both hands and nodded.

“Oh we love Dr. Miles. His affiliate and our division work so well together.” He turned and flashed another disarming smile at Rayna, while presenting me with a tablet device.

It detailed the surgery and recovery fees, as well as transport to and from our location. All said, it was a little higher than what Dr. Miles had said it would be, but not a huge amount.

Worryingly, they definitely seemed to be ripping us off on transport fees. But then again, I didn’t know what fuel for their shuttle, or wages for their staff cost.

Plus, it felt like the kind of thing that was non-negotiable if we wanted the surgery, so I paid for it from the affiliated fund. As soon as I sent over the morties, the nah’gh accepted his tablet back and smiled at us both.

“Well, anyway. It was great to meet you both, can we drop him off right back here when we’re finished?”

I noticed they had set up some kind of hovering sled and were already in the process of loading Drusk onto the shuttle. Both humans were guiding the sled as the female mordren who seemed to be leading them pushed it.

She twirled a manicured claw in the air and the nah’gh began to slither backwards.

“It was so nice to meet both of you, and thanks so much for trusting Dearth Medical with your mordren’s health and well-being. We’ll take good care of him.”

With that, the nah’gh raised a hand to say goodbye, and slithered on board the shuttle behind his team.

Rayna turned and waved at her hobbs, and they began to leave as the shuttle began to take off. It gushed air and water in the pool as its engines kicked in again, and the craft wobbled into a steady hovering flight above the mansion before it started to zoom away into the distance.

After it became small on the horizon, it shifted and a powerful energy well lit up behind it, to push it out of our gravity.

When I turned to follow Rayna inside, I saw she was waiting for me, arms crossed. Oh right, the purchase requests. Drusk and the spiders would have to wait.

I leaned on the counter and pulled up BuyMort again, selecting the affiliate and opening our security tab.

Rayna had been at work, there was a requested purchase list waiting for my approval.

Most of it was pretty simple stuff I had no problem approving. Ammunition, holsters, more mud-crete grenades, another flame-thrower, med kits, more Sleem Sticks, etc.

The only big-ticket item on the list was massive. Twelve million morties by itself, and the only identification it offered was the name; Fumble-Bees.

Rayna insisted that was what we needed. A Fumble-Bees hive. I even made her say it twice, just to make sure I was hearing the right thing.

She was quiet and calm and very insistent. Twelve million morties was a lot of our operational fund, which I explained to her. She still said it was the right move to make, so I hit the button and approved the purchase.

When the shipment arrived, we were in the basement waiting for it. Rayna had ordered the prisoner moved, and poor Zach was picked up and carried upstairs to be babysat in the living room.

His ankle was badly broken, but Rayna had put him in a hand-crafted brace that she insisted would see him through the heal if he was careful. She prided herself on timing human recoveries, said it was a point of pride for BuyMort medics who operated on multiple races.

Each of us healed at different speeds. Even two humans from different earths might have different cellular regeneration rates, or different average bone density.

Rayna grunted it all at me while we stood waiting, in the awkward silence that followed Zach screaming his head off at me about being sentenced for execution and how he was looking forward to carrying out justice upon me.

I ignored Zach, for the most part. Since I had already decided not to kill him, and he had taken himself out with a karmic justice flavored broken ankle, I just couldn’t take his threats seriously.

I was starting to realize that these militia clowns couldn’t do much to hurt me with conventional arms anymore.

And that was all they were sure to have, in great abundance. Conventional arms. Something my ever-growing force of hobbs was sure to need. The thought gave me an idea, but before I could even think it over, Afflqwst beeped in my brain.

I opened it up.

Quest - You have the opportunity to cut costs and retrieve an armory of great size. Enough to outfit an army of your own. Seize the weapons cache and seize the day.

REQUIREMENTS:

1. Locate Militia Armory

2. Loot the contents.

3. (Optional) eliminate or recruit all hostile enemy forces

4. (Optional) Seize Militia MortBlock.

OUTCOME - Outfit of hobb forces. Ability to bring in more hobb soldiers from Storage (100%).

PROBABLE OUTCOME - Militia threat neutralized (95%).

POSSIBLE OUTCOME - The beginning of a nation (55%)

REWARD - Payment of funds equivalent to a BuyMort Affiliate level-up

My eyebrow raised of its own accord. Payment of funds equivalent to a BuyMort Affiliate level-up. As I had suspected, my Afflqwst app was not a normal part of the BuyMort system. More like a guerilla force operating from within. And they didn’t want to be noticed.

Two items, both designed to aid me within this insane system. The suit kept me alive, from things that should have killed me on day one. Now the app was helping me climb the ladder to defeat more serious threats, like the militia.

Some of what it offered as a reward was worrisome. Beginning of a nation? What the hell did that mean? I suspected I knew, and I equally suspected that I might be the wrong guy for that sort of thing. The balance of power in Arizona was something that I was directly involved in. After a lifetime of avoiding responsibility, it felt like I suddenly had a mountain of it dropped in my lap.

But someone had to do it.

For now I’d just do the quest and worry about the rest of it later. I figured if I played this just right, stealing their guns would be a relatively easy quest.

I started hoping to use Zach to steal the guns, with the help of Darclau and his unkindness. Ignoring his threats was easy, when I saw the potential payday in feeding him back to the Dearth Conglomerate. That affiliate didn’t seem to know how to pay attention to more than one thing at a time.

A weakness to exploit.

Before I could mention the idea to Rayna, a pod arrived, swooping silently down the stairs to dazzle us with a rainbow beam. I moved over to peruse the new goodies, and Rayna followed. I picked through the smaller stuff while she got to work cracking open the largest, thickest box in the collection.

I cut flesh tape and moved smaller boxes aside, as Rayna slit the sides of the box and allowed it to fall open like a flower. In the center was a stack of bulbous rings about half my height. It was covered in a sunflower yellow paint job that lit up the otherwise grungy basement.

Each curved ring was covered with hundreds of tiny doors, little clear panes of glass in the metal surface. The top ring was smaller, and it only held ten doors. Atop it stood a series of small branches which jutted from the very top. They were all metal, and shaped strangely, so I assumed they were antennae of some sort, simply painted to match the aesthetic. I pulled up the product information to look at it a bit closer. Its ad was the first thing to present itself from the product page.

Presenting The Fumble-Bee Hive, from Pepaw Industries — Pepaw Industries knows who the backbone of BuyMort is. The farmers, ranchers, and hardworking everyman at the heart of our multiverse drive commerce and industry from the ground up. And Pepaw Industries salutes you, the true leaders within BuyMort. The Fumble-Bee Hive is the result of high-end micro-drone engineering, and good old fashioned hard work. With easy link to most any device, the toughest construction materials, a five-acre area of effect, and a wide range of utility, the Fumble-Bee hive is the ultimate in farming equipment.

Pepaw Industries; just making your life a little easier, farmland heroes. 12,000,000 morties, 4.9 stars.

Aside from the patronizing ad, it looked like a great piece of equipment. Impact, shock, oxidation, flame, and corrosion resistant, our new Fumble-Bee hive was guaranteed to stand up to anything most environments could throw at it.

It even specifically promised that Sleem acid would have no effect on the hive even if brought inside of it.

Internal cleaning mechanisms ensured that each Fumble-Bee was clean and maintained between deployment.

Honestly, it read just like a piece of farm equipment, to the point I began doubting its use as a security item. Livestock would be unable to damage the hive itself, the instructions claimed, and most Fumble-Bees were recoverable when damaged.

Other Fumble-Bees were always immediately dispatched to retrieve damaged units for repair, which was performed internally at the hive.

Mapping, pollination, security, clear-cutting, even shepherding. Rayna had convinced me to buy a bunch of tiny farm drones. They even looked like happy little bees, a smiling insect face painted over the cold, uncaring metal of each drone.

The entire hive contained just over ten thousand drones. Most were multi-purpose, but a small dedicated few were for emergency retrieval.

The hive itself acted as a secure base for the drone swarm, repair hub, recharge station, and general storage all wrapped up in one.

The best part was that its control system was attached to the affiliate page, so I could control who got what kind of access to it and link its control program with any other devices.

I immediately gave Rayna full access.

Next, I got it ported to both my psychic cell phone, and my helmet. Rayna produced a scratched-up plastic phone and began playing with the buttons on it. Hobbs filed in as she worked and began gearing up for the return to the Sleem dungeon beneath our feet.

Chapter 20

Tollya led the group, and most of the hobbs were laughing and chatting as they began to take gear from the new equipment. I noticed one of the hobbs was carrying the RPG launcher over one shoulder. Really hoped we didn’t need to use that underground.

Rayna had bought us more tracer rounds, so everyone started loading magazines. Each hobb got a Sleem Stick, and each of them had weapons capable of hurting the Sleem.

When I did a quick head count, I realized there was only a dozen hobbs with us. I had expected more, but they opened the hatch to the bugout tunnel as though we were ready.

“Rayna,” I asked as I approached. “Don’t we need more hobbs to do this?”

She waved a screen away and shook her head. “We used these before, rich client with herd of beef-beetles. Was being attacked by local Sleem nest, would only let us use equipment they had on hand.”

She waved her hand in the general direction of where the Sleem were holed up.

“Hive work well alone, but faster if you can move it around. Need small group to support hive. Anything is easy when you have morties. Hive do all Sleem work, we just there to break up clumps or deal with bugs they summon.”

Tollya lifted the new flame thrower to Rayna’s back, and the hobb started shrugging into the straps. She raised her phone and thumbed at the center of the screen.

The hive lit up and came to life. It was plugged into our new solar sail generator, which had been gathering power to store in its battery most of the day.

Small lights behind each door activated, and they began to slide open. All except the ten at the top opened, and small metal insects began to crawl out.

They were fascinating to watch. Each one would crawl on tiny spindle limbs to the edge of its door, before taking wing and flying down the open tunnel to the Sleem dungeon.

I was wearing my plasma falchion, and Falcor, each in hip and thigh scabbards. My bag of crystalline grenades was slung over one shoulder, and I carried my new Highwater Blast shotgun at the ready. It was loaded with laser slugs, and I had a fresh bandoleer with a mix of them and my remaining MIRV shells.

It had been tempting to buy and use another Sleem suit, but nobody else had one and it made me hesitate to bother. The goal here seemed to be not killing Sleem anymore but just pushing them into a single contained area.

I chuckled at my own thoughts. Just pushing them into a single contained area, eh? Easier said than done. I just hoped this encounter with the Sleem didn’t involve being burned as much as last time.

We hefted the hive between us, me and three hobbs. It was surprisingly heavy, but Rayna assured us we would not have to carry it far. As we walked down the entry hallway, one hobb remained behind to close the door.

Rayna told me that the rest of her hobbs were made aware that we were down below rounding up Sleem and were on high alert for escapees. An approach had been made to Phyllis, but she chased off the hobb, claiming she was already ready to defend our home, and didn’t require constant reminders.

Mostly all I saw her do was watch TV and take drugs, but until recently I’d had little ambition for much beyond that myself, so I wasn’t inclined to judge her too harshly.

The dark of the tunnels was cut by intense lights. Each hobb used a flashlight of some sort or other. Some were mounted on guns, one was strapped into a helmet, but most were carried by hand. My helmet compensated as we traveled slowly back to the main junction point.

Rayna had us stop and set down the hive a few dozen feet back from the four-way junction. The drone cloud hovered in the central area, creating patterns in the air as they entered a holding pattern.

“Okay,” Rayna started. She was holding her phone and swiping through it.

“You have map. So, you tell bees what do.” The tall hobb pocketed her device and unclipped her flamethrower nozzle again, cradling it at a ready position.

“I don’t know how,” I responded immediately.

“Easy. Set drones to shepherd mode. Assign them to collect Sleem. Then pick place you want Sleem to go. You have the map, so you pick.” Rayna scanned the flashlight lit hallways ahead as she spoke.

“Okay, thanks, I think.” I muttered the last part low enough that my helmet didn’t broadcast it and pulled up the Fumble-Bee hive app on my helmet, to start looking through its settings. The piece of equipment was complex, to say the least.

All drone behavior had to be entered manually, through a complex string of code words and phrases. The manual helped a little, but I quickly became frustrated.

My Afflqwst app came to the rescue, as it suddenly hijacked the drone interface and threw an old quest at me.

Quest - Your affiliate is in danger from the sentient beings known as Sleem. You must find their base and eliminate it. Clear the Sleem from your affiliate’s land.

REQUIREMENTS:

1. Locate Sleem Base Of Operations (complete)

2. Clear base of Sleem Affiliate forces. (incomplete)

3. Scavenge base for sales items. (complete)

4. (Optional) Retrofit base for Affiliate use.

PROBABLE OUTCOME - Hostile Takeover of affiliate property (25%).

POSSIBLE OUTCOME - Sleem retreat from Earth (.05%).

REWARD - Sale coupon on select Afflqwst items.

As I read the quest details, it changed. The new quest was far more aligned with my new intentions but held onto the core of what it had been before I decided to change my approach to the Sleem beneath our feet.

Quest - Your affiliate stands to profit from the establishment of a Sleem farm. You must locate a suitable containment area for Sleem, and shepherd all Sleem inside.

REQUIREMENTS:

1. Locate ideal Sleem containment zone.

2. Clear base of Sleem Affiliate forces.

3. Secure Sleem containment zone.

PROBABLE OUTCOME – Establishment of Sleem farm. (75%).

POSSIBLE OUTCOME – Attain rare affiliate partnership.

REWARD - Sale coupon on select premium Afflqwst items.

The Fumble-Bee hive clicked, a light at the top near the painted antennae popped on, and a gentle voice announced; “Voice activation online. Please inform the hive of your goal.”

“Perfect. I need an area mapped out,” I told the device.

Pulling up my helmet’s map, I zoomed in on the very bottom of the experimentation ward, and the giant cargo elevator.

“There. I need to know what is down there.”

Several drones split off from the primary group and buzzed off down the tunnel to residential. The map in my helmet tracked their movement.

They avoided my old dead Sleem blockades on the stairs by taking the elevator shaft straight down, before moving across experimentation and diving into the pit. From the point of leaving the hive, my Fumble-Bees were mapping out new territory within thirty seconds.

I watched in real time as the map expanded, showing a long, angular shaft that descended into a massive, open cavern. The hive projected direct footage from the drones into my helmet at a request, and I got to see what was down there. A giant, dripping cave filled with Sleem.

At one point in the distant past, it did appear to have had several large machines, as well as rigging in the walls and ceiling for cranes. The area was roughly the size of an enclosed football stadium, and the entire bottom portion was covered in a solid pool of Sleem.

It was like the giant block of Sleem I had encountered in the hangar, but exponentially bigger in size.

One of the drones hovered near the mouth of the cavern as the rest spread out to perform their active mapping. As I watched the various camera feeds, I saw a Sleem ooze pull free from the primary bulk and start slowly crawling its way up the elevator shaft.

Near the edge of the cavern walls, it was evident that there was moisture seeping through from outside. All the walls were coated in condensation, and several stalactites had formed across the ceiling over the years.

There was evidence of stalagmites as well, but the few that rose from the jellied mass of Sleem appeared to have been altered via power tools. Their tops were cleanly sawed off, and some had metal brackets in place for whatever they had held before the base was shut down.

I imagine they lost funding after their top officials all mysteriously disappeared. Their bodies had to have been found, but it was probably much later, when the base was being dismantled.

My imagination told me the demolition team tearing the place apart decided it wasn’t worth digging into when they figured out what happened, instead closing the door behind them, and leaving it as the tomb it had become.

The new portion of map completed as the Fumble-Bee drones found the far side. I left them in place and ordered an active mapping sweep of the entire facility. The hobbs nearby winced as the whine of drones scattering became momentarily deafening. The little craft moved much faster when on a mission than they did when holding a position.

According to my Fumble-Bee readout in my helmet’s HUD, we had merely five thousand drones deployed, only half of our capability. The hive hummed with activity behind me, but no more drones were forthcoming. I focused on my map, pulling it wider to see the sudden expansion happening.

Pipes and ductwork were explored, and sections of the map I had failed to fully flesh out were filled in quickly. The hanger went on for another two football fields, and identified itself as ‘testing’ once it was filled in. The Fumble-Bees could read English, among thousands of other languages. A nice feature.

Medical fleshed out more fully, the piping and medical gas lines extending out from the walls and flooring. The residential areas above experimentation also filled in with detail, as insect sized drones flew into and through the various rooms. I got to see my barbershop chair and the hidden door, still covered in Sleem juice.

Drones entered the secret tunnels from the hangar door I had left open and completed that area as well. There was another tunnel I had missed, well hidden. The tunnel opened roughly ten feet overhead, and a secondary tunnel led off to another secret hatch.

As the drones buzzed around the underground base, the Sleem began to get agitated. At first they responded only in passing to the sound and movement, but soon they began actively chasing the drones.

“Activate shepherd mode, move all Sleem here.” I indicated the bottom cavern on the map, and the drones changed attitude again.

They began issuing small shocks to the Sleem, which I watched on my mini cameras. Each drone could administer several tiny jolts with their onboard micro-tasers before needing to return for a recharge.

The hive began to come alive with activity again, as doors opened, and Fumble-Bees were dispatched. The new drones raced to position, before the drones running on empty veered away to return.

A wall of Fumble-Bee drones chased the Sleem, who quickly realized that they were unable to easily harm the little objects. Any Fumble-Bee drone engulfed by a Sleem would simply shock or burn their way out and resume their shepherding work. The Sleem were nearly helpless before them.

On the odd occasion that a Sleem would harm a drone, usually by throwing it into nearby concrete walls, a specialized drone would eject from the top ring and race off down the dark hallways to rescue it.

The Fumble-Bees on the top row were called red jackets, and had red stripes painted on their thorax. The rear portion of each was significantly longer than a regular drone, and as the first one returned with its damaged cargo, I saw why. The back end of the red jackets opened into small arms that collected the damaged drone and any parts, before depositing them back inside the hive.

A running tally of damaged drones, deployed drones, and drones awaiting deployment ran in small numbers on the side of the floating interface. When I glanced at it, I had a total of fourteen damaged drones, out of ten thousand total.

“Okay, it looks like this thing is working,” I announced to the gathered hobbs. They looked nervous, but the information got several nods.

My map began to fill with red, and the rotating camera feeds confirmed that Sleem were approaching our position in number. A wall of Fumble-Bee drones began to form in front of us, cutting off the hallway before the mass of Sleem arrived. A huge glob of it was coming from the hangar.

“We do have incoming though.”

Rayna quickly ordered her hobbs behind the buzzing, moving wall of micro-drones. When she added me to the line, I gripped the Sleem Stick she shoved at me and stepped in place.

The goal was simple: keep it moving without letting it come toward us. Rayna and Tollya were behind us if we needed to fall back, with lethal countermeasures. Tollya held one of my crystalline grenades, and Rayna was ready with the flamethrower.

The walls groaned as a rush of Sleem filled the hallway. The hobbs at my side clenched, and the wall of drones began to move, circling each other in seemingly randomized pathways.

Slime rushed into view, filling the hallway entirely. In the light, I could see that it was a dark cherry red beneath the surface and couldn’t be seen through. This was the giant Sleem creature I had seen before.

It bulged toward us, and the Fumble-Bees went to work. They sparked and zapped it all over, focusing on the primary bulge before working to push back the rest of it. The giant wall of red Sleem passed for what felt like minutes.

After the initial push, it seemed to get the idea and just oozed down the hallway toward residential. The Fumble-Bees still occasionally zapped it, but only if certain areas slumped inward or it seemed to be slowing.

On the map behind it came another press of red dots, this time from medical. I pulled out the map and looked. A huge mass of Sleem were being herded toward us down the hallway. They were streaming from all parts of the medical wing, but particularly out of the pipes and gas lines, all coalescing in the central room before surging directly at us.

“Get ready!” I shouted, right before the two streams of slime collided. Our portion bulged so far in the hallway with us that we all took several steps back before we started jabbing with our Sleem Sticks.

Sparks erupted and flashed, and most of the hobbs just struck out blindly.

Chapter 21

I could see better where the wall of ooze was retreating and used that to press our advantage. My helmet softened the glare of each spark strike, and I filled in the gaps their random strikes left. With the help of our drones, we pushed it back and reclaimed our area.

The drones did a great job of keeping out of our way, and I noticed all the hobbs did too. Nobody tripped, and there was no friendly fire with the Sleem Sticks, which I assumed would be unpleasant.

Once the hallways were flowing together better, the drones were able to keep order without us until the large, red block had moved on. The rank-and-file Sleem were next, packed in so tightly with one another that they filled the hallway too.

Oozes began trying to attack us, diverting from the main group in threes and fours. We mostly zapped them back in place, but at one point when we were getting overwhelmed, Rayna stepped in and sprayed down a group of them with napalm. They behaved better after that.

Cubes and orbs were mixed in with the rush of smaller Sleem, but they avoided trying to fight us. One particularly large cube even squeaked in fear and tried to surge forward when it went by. Eventually, the flow of sentient snot slowed, and only a few stragglers remained. We waited for them all to be gone, and I followed the progress on my map.

The Fumble-Bees hadn’t quite managed to keep them all going down the elevator, so there was a contingent of drones roaming the residential blocks and rounding up strays.

The bulk of it went down the elevator, and a new conflict began growing in experimentation.

The Sleem appeared to have realized what was happening and were actively resisting. The large block of red Sleem had adhered itself to one wall, and several oozes, orbs, and cubes were surrounding it, shooting globs of slime at the buzzing drones in an attempt to knock them into the concrete pillars.

My counter started to tick up for damaged drones, as more were released to compensate. The red jacket drones began working overtime, retrieving damaged Fumble-Bees from experimentation. They had to go through the ducting, as there was still a mass of Sleem in the way, so it took them longer to retrieve the drones.

I instructed the main group down there to break off and continue active mapping the area, instead of trying to push the Sleem down the elevator shaft.

“We have to go downstairs and help the drones,” I announced.

The active mapping showed the entire medical and testing wings clear of Sleem. Only the last of the mass retreating down the elevator shaft and what was in experimentation remained, but there was still a huge number of Sleem. Rayna had the situation pulled up on her own device, and nodded, before organizing her troops.

We walked in a wedge. Rayna took point, with the flamethrower up front. Tollya and half a dozen hobbs wielding rifles with tracers spread out in a pyramid formation behind her, spreading out to allow for my group as we carried the hive with us.

The closer it was to the action, the faster it could cycle drones. The remaining hobbs carrying plasma rifles brought up the rear, to protect us and the hive.

Our formation walked slowly, keeping pace with those of us hauling the hive. We walked with the base of it held on our shoulders like a coffin, dim lights flashing as it still operated. I could feel the machinery inside humming through my bones.

As I watched the numbers of damaged drones, it began to even out. We had roughly six of our ten thousand Fumble-Bees in action to even out the numbers and keep moving the Sleem downward, but I noticed that a new tally had begun at the side of the read-out; repaired.

Almost a dozen drones that had been damaged at the start of this endeavor were now reading as repaired and back in action. That was faster than I had expected, but very welcome. We needed every drone we could get.

Walking down the bare, concrete steps was the hardest part, but we managed without incident. The hobbs were, to an individual, defined by their competence. None of them were superhuman, like the mordren, but they focused on the task and worked like all our lives depended on it.

I wondered how long they had lived under BuyMort.

To the point that work like this was considered normal, and their bodies had evolved to heal faster. Food like giant, lethal wasps sustained and invigorated them. I wondered what they had been before BuyMort. And what we would become through it.

A sharp bark from Rayna stopped us. We had moved down to the second residential level and discovered Sleem at the elevator shaft waiting for us. The angry slimes were surrounded by Fumble-Bee drones and flinched away from various sparks and snaps of electricity, but seemed very focused on our arrival, as multiple cubes and oozes rushed our front line.

A setting on the drones changed from shepherd to security, and the drones suddenly changed their focus. Tiny, red eye lights sprang into life, and the drone cloud swirled into spears. Each spear of Fumble-Bees hovered in front of a Sleem momentarily before plunging into it.

Once inside, the drones used their on-board tasers to simultaneously ignite the Sleem. The cubes appeared able to withstand a single attack like this but were badly injured afterward. Oozes died on the spot.

This expenditure of energy required drones to recharge after being part of an attack formation, so the hive spun up to even higher levels of activity, and a steady stream of mechanical insects flew back and forth from the ever opening and closing doors. They formed up in front of us and killed any Sleem that got too close.

The cubes all retreated after being spiked, squealing in pain, and dropping themselves down the elevator shaft. We routed the Sleem without anyone having to fire a shot. I started to appreciate the Fumble-Bee hive, in spite of the cost. I would have loved to have had this thing as backup the night before.

Our push ended at the top of the stairs to experimentation. Rayna, Tollya, and I broke apart the mud-creted cube I had used to block pursuit the night before. I used Falcor to slice through it, and they carried chunks out until it fell apart and cascaded down the stairs in a tumble of crumbling solidified gelatin.

Below us a battle surged. Sleem spit globs at drones all over the room, and the instant we opened our stairwell we became a target too. Those of us carrying the hive set it down in a hurry, before rushing to ready our own weapons. I grabbed my shotgun and racked a laser slug into place.

Three cubes and a large orb rushed toward our group, followed closely by several oozes. I lit up the stairwell with a burst of crimson light. With the new and improved heat resistant barrel, my beam shined in the form of the threading, a segmented wheel.

I grinned as the beam became more visible in the smoke of burning Sleem, and the air filled with their dying fart screams. The light was so pretty in the dark.

I immediately racked another laser slug in place and fired, sweeping it across the oozes that rushed us. They too died.

Rayna and the other hobbs stood back and watched, their own weapons ready to assist me if needed. They were not, I held the stairwell by myself until the Sleem backed off and focused on their resistance against the Fumble-Bee drones.

It was going poorly for them; the smaller Sleem had already mostly been pulled away to the tunnel with repeated shocks. A steady, but resistant stream of cubes and orbs were being pulled away from the wall, but the giant wall of red Sleem was still there, and still defiantly clutching the far wall.

It had dozens of Sleem hidden with it, around the edges and nestled behind it. It was chaos, with little firefly zaps lighting up the massive underground room and showcasing just how many Sleem were down there with us. Thousands.

If we didn’t have the Fumble-Bee hive to sow chaos with them and prevent a solid offense, we would have been overrun easily. Thankfully, Rayna was a smart shopper and the device lived up to its marketing for shepherding.

Since we had brought it closer, the fight was going in our direction, with drones returning for charging and repair much easier, over a significantly shorter travel distance.

Tollya clutched a crystalline grenade nervously as we descended the stairs. Rayna and I led, weapons ready. I slipped fresh laser slugs into my new shotgun as I went. The block on the wall was our target, and Rayna started off by unleashing the flamethrower against the side of it nearest to us.

The screaming fart rumbled through the walls, and I saw more than one hobb cover their ears. The block undulated away like a worm, but clung to the wall, even using it to put out the flames on its body. It didn’t move far away, but as soon as we followed it, the block moved a little further.

The second time it did this, Rayna held up a fist to stop us. The stream of retreating Sleem had stopped, and was more engaged in fighting their drones, trying to hold position.

“Retreat! Up the stairs!” Rayna suddenly yelled.

We all did as she said, but the Sleem moved as one. Our retreat was cut off, and the Fumble-Bee hive was engulfed. It had a mode for that exact scenario, but that involved closing all external doors and occasionally issuing a small shock to discourage the Sleem.

From the bottom of the stairs, I watched as multiple oozes gathered around the hive to repeatedly engulf it. They would wear down the charge rapidly, and without ambient sunlight to recharge itself with, or a dedicated power supply, that would be the end of it.

The Sleem pushed in on our defenses, and I looked to Tollya. She had the grenade key out and was holding it up in the air. Just waiting for the order. As the giant red block of Sleem moved toward us, Rayna gave it.

“Kill!” It was just one word, but I felt the frustration and anger behind it. We had walked into it, after all. I shook my head as Tollya threw the grenade. We should have waited at the top of the stairs.

Lightning flashed, and a ball of hot arcs formed around the grenade, suddenly immobile in mid-air. It burst, and the black liquid inside sloshed at the edges of the lightning shield encasing it. The liquid bubbled and smoked out, as the pure electricity flooding the room expanded.

Walls of lightning raced up and down the concrete underground, lighting up the air and dazzling many of the hobbs at my side. Thousands of Fumble-Bee drones sparked and died.

My helmet protected me from the worst of it, but the rush of vacuum and freezing temperature that followed I felt. Something tore in the air overhead, and all of us were momentarily lifted off our feet. I glanced up to see a rend in the fabric of reality, and blackness speckled with stars on the other side.

The creature passing through the rift immediately caught my attention though. It didn’t make much sense to my eyes, and it kind of hurt to even look at it.

I blinked hard as I was lifted bodily toward the creature and rift by rushing air evacuating the underground complex. The creature was a series of hardened rings wrapped in tentacles, spinning slowly around a core of pure light.

Eyeballs of various sizes coated each ring and rose on stalks, and as I stared, I noticed the light in the center had a pupil and moved much like an eyeball itself.

The rift snapped shut behind it and dropped us all again, to collapse in heaps on the concrete. I had the distinct impression that if the rift had stayed open, we all would have been sucked out into space.

A deep, rumbling voice sounded in the room.

“BEHOLD,” it commanded, and all of us did.

Chapter 22

The Sleem retreated from it at once, all moving like a single liquid toward the hole in the ground at the center of experimentation. Arcs of lightning chased them, corralled, and forced their movement, punishing any who diverted harshly.

The creature from the rift was focused primarily on the Sleem, but its eyeball made of pure light spun back and looked at our group. The hobbs around me were all silent. Most of them still gripped their weapons, but some had dropped them entirely. A few were on their knees.

Just my luck. More monsters from seemingly nowhere were jumping into my shit. It was jarring and disorienting, like a tornado rising from the flames of your torched trailer house.

“BE NOT AFRAID!” it demanded of us, shaking the walls and floor. “WE COME TO SPEAK TO THE HOLDER OF THE AFFILI-QWEST!”

Rayna turned and shouted at the rest of us.

“Beholder! Run!”

We all did as she said. I grabbed a hobb on his knees and hauled him to his feet, before shoving him toward the stairs. Tollya did the same with another kneeling hobb and we had them moving.

All of the hobbs sprinted up the stairs, ignoring the residual slime and scattered weaponry. They ran flat out, for their lives. Inspired, I followed. Right up until the point I crashed into a barrier made of electricity, woven over the top of the stairs.

It felt strange more than anything. Didn’t hurt, beyond the small feeling of a minor static discharge. But it physically repelled me, and I flopped to the concrete stairs, trying to catch myself before I fell off the side.

Tollya and the rest of the hobbs had made it through, I had been bringing up the rear with Rayna and we were trapped in the room with the beholder.

Tollya turned back, but she was the only hobb who did. Rayna pressed hard against the electric barrier, but her hands couldn’t get through. She stopped after a few seconds and shook her head at Tollya.

The other hobb took a suddenly shaky breath, and a tear squeezed from her eye before she raised a fist to her chest and solidly thumped it, once. Rayna did the same, then raised her hand to her lips before pressing it to the barrier. Tollya choked, turned, and ran.

I met Rayna’s eyes as she turned to look at me. “I was going to ask how fucked we are.”

The hobb ignored the tears from her own eyes, and I saw her mentally harden.

“Fucked.”

She stood and straightened her back as she began descending the stairs again, keeping a close eye on the beholder. It had turned its attention fully to the Sleem and was shoving all of them from each corner of the room into the elevator shaft at the center.

“Beholders are powerful. Kill at whim. No one controls.” I followed Rayna down the stairs as she spoke. Her words were shorter than before. Sadder. “I just don’t understand why one is here, now. They move through the multiverse, profit and study. Maybe they want Affiliate?”

I hefted my shotgun and nodded at her. “Goddammit. Can’t I ever get a break? Maybe we can kill it. I’ve come out of some crazy shit okay. Kind of a lot, actually.”

Rayna shrugged out of the flame-thrower and picked up a discarded plasma rifle in its place. She checked the magazine, and then primed it. “We cannot kill it. But I want to live, so I’m going to try anyway.”

I raised my eyebrows at her. “I want to live too. Maybe we can slip past it. Escape?”

The beholder spun in the distance, but I could feel its attention suddenly turn to us. The map in my helmet told me that the Sleem were all contained. A mass of them was oozing steadily downward, where my drones piped camera footage. They were cramming in together at the bottom, and the sheer volume of slime in the room rose steadily.

It had been a lake before, but now an ocean was forming.

The mental pressure I felt from the beholder increased, and suddenly I couldn’t remember how to use my new shotgun. There was some kind of mechanism on it that I was supposed to squeeze or push, and I simply could not remember what it was or how it functioned.

The device in my hands became unknown to me, and a growing sense of unease rapidly followed.

I gently set down the weapon, and suddenly the sensation was gone. All of my knowledge and ability returned, but I still had no desire to pick the gun back up.

Rayna did something similar at my side, though she reached for the rifle after it was already on the ground. Her hand hesitated, and the tall gray woman raised it to her lips, trembling, before she turned away from the guns and stared at the beholder.

“BEHOLD,” it roared at us again, and the room shook with the power of its silent voice.

At our side, a BuyMort pod suddenly ripped through the air into existence. The fart of burnt ozone washed over me and I shook out of the daze the beholder had put my mind into.

It left me with a slight headache.

Rayna blinked rapidly and reached for the rifle one more time, before crumpling to the ground entirely. She was breathing and conscious, unable to do anything but lightly moan, I assumed in mortal terror.

I stepped between her and the pod as it measured out a small area on the concrete. A rainbow beam dazzled the room, and a woman stepped out of the light. Her skin was inky black, to the point that it shined and sparkled with iridescence.

The faint flicker of tiny motes of light rose to the surface as she turned her head to look at me, akin to glitter, or stars reflected in water at night. Twin tall, pointed ears rose from her shock white hair, and a pair of red eyes shone in the dark.

The woman was dressed in a very expensive looking business suit, with a knee-length skirt. Every inch of her clothing was covered in a thin pin stripe design that formed the web of a spider in different positions when the light caught it just right. She smiled at me and stepped forward to extend one slender hand in greeting.

“You must be Tyson,” she sighed. Her voice was high and light, and she spoke just above a whisper’s volume.

“My name is Lady Taytrinn Shireen, and I represent Quadrum the beholder. It is delicious to meet you. I’ll be Quadrum’s voice to your affiliate, lest it inadvertently kill you lesser species with its thought.”

I nodded, my slack jaw thankfully covered by the helmet, and reached to accept her hand. There was zero chance I was calling her ‘lady’ anything.

Boss was bad enough.

She was surprisingly warm to the touch, and gentle. I got the distinct impression she was being careful with my hand as she shook it. She looked around at our surroundings and sighed, before reaching into a small handbag at her side.

The item she retracted looked a lot like a laser pointer to me, but when she pointed it at the floor, the still-present BuyMort pod moved over and began warping in items. Within seconds, there was a full lounge meeting area, complete with a small bar cart, all sitting in the middle of the abandoned concrete base.

A couch, armchair, extra cushions, and even a coffee table in the center of it all. The furniture was lovely, and soft.

Lavish, was the word that came to mind, when I sat on the couch this strange elf provided. I was sure she was an elf the instant I saw her ears. Classic tall and pointy. The oversized kind, it was kind of intimidating, like blades on the sides of her head.

Rayna was still in a heap on the floor, and as Taytrinn gracefully sat down, she cast a look at the hunched over woman.

“My master would like to know if your hobb can be trusted. She was trapped in a fight or flight loop before but seems to have calmed some now.”

The dark elf glanced at the beholder in the distance, then turned back to Rayna.

“You’re going to be let back up, hobb. I hope you understand that this is a sign of good faith. You are not under threat here, nor are any of your tribe.”

Rayna suddenly straightened. She looked at the weapon on the ground but moved into place on the couch beside me instead.

Taytrinn smiled coldly at her, before turning back to face me. “Rayna here has mentioned some brutish stereotypes surrounding beholders, but I can sense that you have questions.”

“Uh. Yeah.” I stopped and cleared my throat as I felt the beholder's attention on me. “I guess, I would like to know what you and . . . uh, Quadrum, are doing here?”

Her smile grew, and she looked down to her lap. “You are so new to the market, aren’t you?”

She closed her eyes and raised her head, taking a long, slow breath as the beholder projected a tendril of light into her head, from an eyeball on a stalk that rose from one of its rings.

“Oh my, brand new. Let me ask you, did you go to Affili-Qwest or did Affili-Qwest come to you? Quadrum has studied it so long, and he requests audience. There are so many questions. If all is BuyMort, has all always been BuyMort?”

She laughed at the sky, twirling a single finger above her head on her right hand.

“We know that in the pre-BuyMort worlds there exist fledgling markets, infantile proto-affiliates that fall asunder at the evolutionary introduction of BuyMort. Quadrum surmises that once upon a time, the multiverse was the same. And this affiliate that created Affili-Qwest, Teslak Cooperative, might have been a proto-affiliate.”

She widened her eyes as if the idea was an entirely shocking one. “The Teslak Cooperative might have even competed with BuyMort!”

I grimaced. So much for my secret little boutique. But I also grew curious.

Just how old and powerful was this place?

I found myself interested in having a back and forth over it with them, maybe exchanging what I knew for what they knew. But I wasn’t going to let them just walk all over me like this.

“If he wants to come here and talk to me about my connections with Teslak, he can schedule an appointment like everyone else.”

Taytrinn clasped her hands in her lap and delicately crossed one long, stockinged leg over the other.

“Beholders go where they please and do as they please,” she informed me. “The only institution to hold any sway over them is the Church of BuyMort, and that is only because there are several beholders in its ranks, at least officially.”

“That’s inconvenient. I suppose psychic superpowers have their perks and their own rules though.” I hesitated and looked between Rayna and Taytrinn. “Why here and now?”

The dark elf’s smile grew, and she leaned back in her seat to luxuriate.

“Besides you being the only being we’ve ever detected to have been able to interact with and purchase from Teslak, you have also discovered something of interest to my master, and so my master has come.”

She glanced at the beholder again, before sighing and turning back to us.

“The red Sleem is a birthing block. My employer requires it for study.”

“Oh!” I breathed in relief. “Yeah, sure, all yours. Take the thing, it’s been a menace here.”

Taytrinn laughed, her voice raising to a light musical sound.

“Oh no, you misunderstand. We have no desire to take the Sleem anywhere. My master is quite content to do its work right here, in the Sleem’s home environment. The entity claims that makes them more malleable.”

The dark elf paused and looked me up and down before clarifying, “Easier to work with.”

She paused there and leaned forward, before gripping a length of her white hair and twisting it up and back, skewering it in place with a solid wood hairpin. The result was a messy bun on top of her head that looked perfectly styled.

The sultry elf looked up and fluttered her eyelashes at me as she set down a clipboard on the table between us. It appeared like magic, from the inside of her suit jacket. With another soft smile, she pushed it across the coffee table to me.

I picked it up and started reading. “The beholder entity known in the BuyMort collective as Quadrum would like to enter into an agreement with your affiliate. Interaction shall include but not be limited to . . “

It continued on.

And on.

The entire thing read like a big non-disclosure agreement, but there was no place to sign, and no suggestion that any of its contents were optional.

In essence, I and anyone in my affiliate who had knowledge of this thing had to keep it quiet. After she agreed, Rayna was allowed to call her hobbs, who had been stopped on the floor above by another barricade, and they joined us to agree as well.

The beholder would take our promises seriously, Taytrinn assured me with a smile.

This was merely a courtesy, to let us know what we were getting involved in. The beholder looked over each of us as we agreed to secrecy, and then turned and went back to whatever it was doing, hovering over the elevator shaft.

Taytrinn looked over to the entity for a long moment, before nodding and turning back. The beholder sunk down into the elevator shaft, long fleshy tentacles extending from its central rings to feel and touch the walls as it went. Within a moment, the entity was gone from sight, and the pressure of its attention faded.

“Alright. Your hobbs are free to go, but I would adore talking to you some more, Tyson. Do stay with me for a drink, let’s sweeten this deal.”

The dark elf uncrossed her legs and stretched out, languidly, like a cat.

“Take off that helmet and let me see you, human.”

I hesitated, but it genuinely did feel like there was nothing at all I could do to prevent the beholder from killing me any way it saw fit, so the limited protection my helmet could provide was likely negligible. I unfastened it, lifted it off, and set it down on the coffee table between us, facing Taytrinn with a polite smile.

Her own smile deepened, and the skin around her red eyes bent, but did not wrinkle. “What would you like? Besides a good shave?”

I blinked and frowned, rubbing my three-day old beard. “Tequila.”

A drink sounded excellent. A drink with Taytrinn, not so much. Rayna stood to leave and looked at me, once, before she vanished up the stairs to join Tollya and the others. As always, she was inscrutable. Soon after she was gone, I got a text that read simply ‘good luck.’

Good luck indeed.

Chapter 23

The beholder flashed lightning from the elevator shaft and roared “BEHOLD” as it entered the Sleem’s primary cavern. Taytrinn glanced over and waved a hand dismissively.

“Oh don’t mind that. Just Quadrum being Quadrum.”

In the space of time I had looked away, she had drinks poured and waiting. A measure of amber liquid sat in my glass, and she held a wine glass filled with a dark red liquid. The bottles were still on the table, but I hadn’t even heard a glass clink.

“What, uh . . . what is Quadrum?” I asked, raising the glass to my nose. It smelled incredible, and I took a sip immediately. Bad tequila is disgusting, but good tequila is delicious. The stuff she served me was the latter, and it burned just right.

“A beholder is a complex being to describe,” Taytrinn said. “If I’m being honest, I can only impart so much of my own understanding to you, anyway. My master wouldn’t want me saying too much about anything personal, of course.”

She swirled her own glass and took a sip, before continuing. “A powerful being, for certain. Perhaps made of power. Sculpted from it. Suffice to say that Quadrum is here and interested in your Sleem.”

I nodded and frowned. “Oh. Well, crud. I kinda need my Sleem.” I took another sip as the woman fixed me with a look. “I just mean, this is supposed to be our Sleem farm, we were planning to work this area.”

Taytrinn leaned over, exposing some cleavage as she reached to set her glass down on the table between us. “Fear not, human. Your farm does not interfere with our needs. You may operate as you intend.”

I tipped my glass to her. “Well, that’s a relief. Hey, I don’t suppose you guys could do something about the Dearth Conglomerate? They’re kinda breathing down our necks.”

The dark elf chuckled and shook her head. “You misunderstand. To avoid the anger of its peers, my master will not aid your affiliate directly in any way, as a matter of policy.”

She flipped her hand over on the arm rest and continued.

“Which is not to say that there is no benefit in serving a beholder. You simply must understand how to attain that benefit. Which is where I come in.”

I blinked a few times and waited for her to continue.

“I am the liaison. Head of this beholder’s support staff. I’m simply here to ensure that a smooth and confidential working relationship is attained between your affiliate, and the entity known as Quadrum.”

“BE NOT AFRAID!” The beholder roared at the Sleem below, rumbling the ground with its voice.

I pointed over my shoulder at the pit. “What’s the deal with that? Does it always say the same stuff?”

A new smile rose to her lips, unbidden, and she cocked her head to look at me.

“No, not at all. Verbalization is a foreign concept to a beholder, and they wear no mouths to speak of. What you are feeling is basic communicative desire. Quadrum wishes you to know something, and that roar you hear is all of that desire that you are able to comprehend. I hear much more, of course, but I’ve no idea what the Sleem hear, if they hear anything at all.”

I sipped my tequila, again impressed by how good it was. “So is that what Quadrum does? Sleem?”

“Does. What a charming notion. No, that is not all that the beholder I serve ‘does.’ I am not surprised to find us in another Sleem hole, though. It has been a subject of relevance in recent years.”

Taytrinn took a long moment to stare at her surroundings. The blank concrete and Sleem juice. “Better than some, at any rate.”

“Sorry, we only just got this area cleared out. I don’t suppose it would take much to make the place livable. I assume you are wanting to stay close to Quadrum?”

She nodded. “Yes, I need to stay near my master. As will the rest of its support staff.”

The sultry elf reached for her wine glass again. “But we shall also require free run of your facility. I’ll be interfacing with your staff and ensuring operational security for the entity, my master. The others will perform other tasks. Most of us you won’t even notice. Unless we want you to.”

She licked her upper lip and made eye contact.

I nodded, squinting at her over my tequila glass. “Of course, of course. I do have to point out that I’m not hearing a lot of options in this for me, or for my affiliate. Is that pretty normal?”

Taytrinn narrowed her red eyes and smiled so wide her teeth peeked out from behind her lips for an instant.

“Extremely. Beholders do as they please. Very few affiliates offer these entities something they cannot afford or acquire themselves. And fewer still are capable of preventing them from executing their will.”

The dark elf took another sip of her wine, which I could tell from the label on the bottle was a 2012 California merlot. She seemed to be enjoying it, almost as much as she was enjoying my situation.

“Right, right. I get that, and I’m not trying to cause trouble or anything. I guess I’m just wondering what would exist to prevent uh, Quadrum, from destroying this entire place and killing everyone under my care.”

I awkwardly sipped my tequila.

“You know, since I’m powerless to stop that, and all.”

The beholder rose, glowing and gyrating from the elevator shaft behind me again, and I flinched at the timing. I could feel its attention before the voice rang through my bones and the walls of my facility again.

“BE NOT AFRAID!”

The beholder approached, and I got a picture of how massive it was, up close. The thing was the size of a bull elephant, just rotating and blinking as it moved around us, to settle in place directly behind Taytrinn. She casually reached a hand back and stroked one ring, retracting her fingers with a wicked smile when the tips of them seared.

“Quadrum’s word, Tyson. A beholder’s word is as good as law. This beholder would like to take up residence in your basement and quietly study your Sleem. You and yours will not be harmed by the entity in exchange for basic privacy and autonomy, a very simple arrangement, designed with peaceful intent. My master is aware of your ‘rule’ and would like to point out that its presence will be extremely useful to your affiliate. Anyone of use is welcome here, no?”

I laced my fingers and leaned forward. “Absolutely. And your job is to explain the useful part, right?”

Taytrinn’s smile returned, and she threw back her head to laugh. “You’re catching on! How much do you know about Sleem farming?”

I glanced up as if searching the inside of my head before answering her, “Almost nothing.”

“There you have it. We’re earning our keep already, isn’t this fun?”

The dark elf adjusted the hem of her skirt and fixed me with a serious gaze.

“Before Quadrum arrived, you were about to give up and kill them, having been tricked into a compromised situation. Assuming you could have then contained the remaining Sleem already present in the cavern below, this action still would have reduced your standing Sleem by almost half, and significantly slowed the start of your farm.”

I raised my hand. She blinked at me with a frown but waved a hand for me to ask.

“How do you know that? And my name?” I lowered my hand after asking.

“Your names are attached to the affiliate page, I did my research as soon as my master informed me of our destination.”

Taytrinn produced a device from the inside of her jacket lining. It seemed to appear out of thin air.

“And I know what happened immediately before Quadrum arrived because it told me.”

She moved a thin strand of loose hair behind an ear with a smooth motion, looking down at her device.

“My history on your affiliate is limited, but it looks like you have some live animal ranching experience. Spiders, it says here?” She glanced up at me as she asked. “We share that, my people also cultivate spiders for various uses.”

“Uh, yeah. Sort of. They kind of just lived here before, and we started selling some of their silk for morties.”

I reached for my tequila again. I was feeling the drink already, and it helped with the sheer terror I was fighting to control. The red corset beneath her black suit jacket peeked through above and below the single button she had secured, giving it an hourglass appearance.

“Never really ranched much of anything.”

“So, no practical experience there either. That’s fine, I expect you’ll automate the Sleem farm anyway, that’s how most do it. It’s really not much more than a pipe that leads to a freezer anyhow.”

She twirled her wrist to dismiss the complexity of my task, and I found myself mesmerized by her movements. They were strangely smooth and graceful.

I snapped out of it and raised a hand again. “Oh, I have a guy for that now! Can I introduce you to Axle? He’s running all of my logistics, as of today.”

She frowned and shrugged her thin shoulders.

“Yes of course. Anyone who is told about my master will need to meet it face to face in order to agree to secrecy is all. I, and a small contingent of staff, will need accommodation, somewhere nearby, but not in here, obviously. This area will need to be my master’s. No one in or out without my direct approval.”

The elf smiled at me again, and I noticed for the first time how sharp her teeth were. “We’ll install our own doors, don’t worry.”

My eyes flickered from the sultry dark elf in front of me to the swirling entity behind her and I smile politely. “Right, you’re moving in. I suppose I’ll need to cut a chunk off my MortBlock, in that case.”

Taytrinn sipped from her wine glass and pursed her lips. “No need. In fact, please do not. My master’s existence here is meant to be a secret. Large missing portions of a MortBlock, while an unlikely source of information leakage, could still lead a clever investigator here. The last thing any beholder wants is fame.”

She curled one lip. “Simply section that part off when refreshing it and leave us to our own devices. You will own anything my master chooses to leave behind, but the expectation is you will leave them alone while the beholder is using them, obviously. Typically, a beholder’s study equipment is thought of as a major find. Worth many morties on the open market”

When she said the word ‘morties,’ it sounded almost like something was stuck in the back of her throat, and I was again reminded of the translation effect.

“I wonder what morties is in your language,” I muttered.

Her laughter bounced off the concrete walls and pillars again. “You point your mind to such strange things; it is no wonder my master finds this place appealing. It must sense something in you.”

She fixed me with a gaze. “Or rather, building from you, perhaps. I’m certainly . . . drawn.”

I nodded and smiled, unsure what to say to that.

She lowered her head and blinked a few times. “Accommodation?”

“Oh, right. Well, there’s an old residential wing right above us. Should be plenty of room for you and your staff.” My forehead wrinkled in concern. “Shit, do I have to feed you guys too?”

“We operate quite independently, in our master’s interests. Once you have left us, the beholder will den here, and we will liaise with you about anything that may arise.”

Her fingers twirled idly, and the laser pointer appeared in her hand again. She indicated a large section of the concrete floor, and the still-present pod moved over and opened a warp beam for several other dark elves to step through.

Just over two dozen of them entered the massive open room, along with a livestock-sized spider covered in shaggy hair. As it stepped from the beam, it mewled in a deep, lamenting voice.

I couldn’t help but stare. The elves were each dressed differently, and some were fairly extreme in their appearance.

A thin female with a lithe body stood out, as she wore nothing but streamers of silk that adhered to her most private parts but flowed freely otherwise. She had fine, nearly glowing white hair that fell to her ankles, and she began dancing directly beneath the floating beholder almost as soon as she arrived in the room.

Several of the creature’s eyes followed her body, and the beholder’s tentacles and eyestalks unraveled to sway along with the dancing elf’s movements.

The elf handling the giant spider was petting it softly, cooing in its ears, I assumed. He was also wearing overalls. I hadn’t expected to see a dark elf in overalls, but it was a big day for firsts. Some of them wore uniforms that looked military and followed a larger dark elf in heavy armor with a cleanly shaved head. At a motion from him, a handful of them split off and jogged in unison toward the far end of the cavernous room.

Another male sidled up to Taytrinn silently, appearing out of the shadows to her side. He wore matte black cloth, wrapped with thin belts to allow for free movement.

He ducked, allowing her to whisper into his ear, then strode over to me with footsteps that nearly shook the ground. He was wearing what looked like black plate metal, with intricate filigree etched across the chest. The image depicted a glowing orb surrounded by rings, not unsimilar to a beholder, but lacking any sense of life.

The armored elf came up to the arrangement of furniture and stopped beside Taytrinn, to stand at a parade rest. He wore a sword at his hip, and carried a large, bulky rifle across his back. The woman in the chair looked up at him, then glanced at me and smiled.

I stood and gulped the rest of my tequila. It felt like time for me to leave.

Chapter 24

The hulk in armor proved my instinct correct when he reached for my bicep to help guide me around the chair. I froze as he made contact, and the beholder twitched, all of its eyeballs fixated on him.

The armored elf turned and went to one knee.

“Yes, my lord!” he shouted. “At once!”

He arose swiftly, gestured politely with one hand toward the nearby staircase, and held a small bow.

“I apologize for laying hands on you, in violation of my master’s agreement with your affiliate. If you require, I shall take my life.”

I nodded slowly. “Right. Uh . . . apology accepted. Don’t do it again and we’re good.”

Taytrinn arose and stepped with a click of her high heels around the armchair. Her compatriot in the dark clothing had vanished, though several other elves milled about. Some were on devices, and some were already beginning to set up what looked like a massive worktable near the elevator shaft.

The dark elf in overalls slowly guided the spider away to a corner, where he encouraged it to begin building itself a web.

The beast mewled again and moved carefully up the wall, with powerful, gripping steps. Dark elves in suits moved in to take our place at the meeting lounge, setting up devices and more lights.

I followed Taytrinn, and the armored elf fell into step behind me. He clanked ever so slightly as he walked.

Together we rose up the stairs to see Rayna and the hobbs waiting in a semi-circle. The staircase and elevator shaft behind them was blocked by flickering bars of lightning.

As Taytrinn took the final step and splayed her arms to the gathered hobbs, the lighting blinked out. Tollya racked her shotgun and moved to step between Taytrinn and Rayna.

The dark elf stared baleful eyes, and bared her teeth in sudden fury.

“Out of my way, hobb.” She spat the final word. “You dare to raise weapons against me?”

Rayna put a gentle hand on Tollya’s shoulder, and the other woman backed down at once. She sighed and turned away, ejecting the shell into her hand, before reloading it into the magazine.

“Don’t yell, we work. We good hobbs.”

Rayna kept her eyes downcast, and I narrowed my own. Racial caste stuff wasn’t going to fly around me. I opened my mouth to say something, but the sudden warning look Rayna shot me told me to shut up and move on. I took my helmet out from under my arm and slipped it back on. It was better if my expression was covered for what was unfolding between the two aliens.

“Yes. Good hobbs work,” Taytrinn hissed. “Right now, your work is to vanish from my sight. This floor is ours; we certainly won’t welcome the stench of hobbs.”

“Taytrinn,” I started. I couldn’t stand by but needed to choose my words carefully, considering Rayna’s unsaid warning.

“Please refrain from yelling at my staff. We’re handling some morale problems currently, and it’s inconvenient timing, is all. You understand.”

The hulking elf at my back clenched his fist on something. I turned my helmet to see, and when I saw his hand clutching his sword’s hilt, I tilted my helmet between his face and the sword.

Taytrinn saved us from any further unpleasantry with one of her high laughs. She smiled disarmingly at me, then shot a glare at her companion in armor.

His hand left the sword hilt.

“Oh, Tyson. There is something about you that I find simply. . . delicious.”

She walked in a circle around me, trailing her finger across my spine before slipping her arm into the crook of mine.

“It must be your innocence. You’re much too soft on your servants though. Perhaps we should meet together later, more privately, so I can teach you how to run a righter ship. We have so many things to work on. But that’s all for later. Come. Show me to your ‘guy.”

I laughed politely and nodded, my helmet bobbing. “Of course, of course. Right this way.” Keeping my breath low enough to not be heard outside of the helmet, I whispered, “Shit, shit, shit!”

We walked up to the lower floor of the residential area, and she hung lightly from my arm. When I stopped to show her the first hallway of apartments, I realized we had walked well outside the range of any ambient light, but she seemed to be having no problems.

I swept an arm to indicate an apartment. “Not much, as I said.”

She detached from my arm and entered one of the empty units, stepping cautiously to avoid a puddle of Sleem juice.

“It will serve.” Her voice echoed back to me, and I could see her red eyes glowing in the dark as she perused the area.

“Silver linings, lots of room for customization,” I quipped. Taytrinn exited the building and gave me a cursory smile, before reattaching herself to my arm.

“Show me more,” she demanded.

I showed her the entire floor, silently reliving the other night when I had run for my life through the facility. At the end of the hallway, she pointed up the stairs.

“I’m afraid a single floor of this size simply will not do. You mentioned another up above?”

When I hesitated, she pulled on my arm and grinned at my shining helmet. I nodded, and we performed another tour of the second residential level. There was nowhere near enough of them to require that much space, but none of it felt optional, and keeping these new tenants happy was my primary objective.

When we arrived at the barbershop, she stopped me and stared at the chair. “What is that?”

“An oversight,” I responded. “I’ll take care of it immediately.”

After carefully drawing Falcor, I noticed the elf in dark cloth appear in my peripheral vision. The helmet highlighted his movement as he approached me from the side with a knife in hand.

I ignored him and stepped to the chair, clipping it at the base with a single, low, sweeping blow. When I turned to glance behind me at Taytrinn, the other elf had vanished again.

I carefully sheathed Falcor before grabbing my plasma falchion from the other thigh. It roared into life, and I held out the tip to sweep over the remaining metal of the post. It melted and flowed into the floor, and I deactivated the falchion, returning it to its dock to charge.

When the metal cooled, it would perfectly cap the mechanism in the floor.

“BuyMort, I’d like to sell that,” I said, while pointing at the remains of the barbershop chair.

Selling the broken and corrupted Sleem bodies from the dungeon before had netted a cool million morties, most of them bad quality. But, surprisingly, this broken and crumpled thing netted almost the same. I stared at the prompt.

Purchase: Chair, Barber. Utilitarian furnishing. Rarity, common. Quality, bad. 5 morties dispensed.

Purchase: Golden Currency, US, dated 1860 - 1874. Rarity, very rare. Quality, excellent. 1,145,980 morties dispensed.

I was shocked. A little pissed off too. The golden coins wouldn’t really have been worth holding onto, but I would have liked to have seen them first before parting ways.

Not that I had been in place to check the chair for hidden compartments. But the loss still burned nonetheless.

When I turned back to Taytrinn, she was smiling with her arms crossed. I noticed she had undone a button on her top, and a hint of her lacy bra was showing. All thoughts of golden coins dropped away immediately.

“I apologize. We were unprepared for your arrival.”

“Few are,” she answered immediately. “And yet, such is the turn of life, no? Best to embrace pleasure while one can. Nothing in life is assured but the moment.”

I peered at her through the helmet, glad she could not see my face. “Wise. I’ll have to think on that some. Seems like a big concept.”

The tour progressed through the entire wing, with Taytrinn grinning and taking each floor for her delves as we arrived on it. Each one an important and necessary use, she assured me.

Once we arrived at the top floor, she was no longer smiling. The hobbs were there, hefting the Fumble-Bee hive back up to the crossroads.

“I think I’ll wait here. This wing of your facility should be fine for our needs. Summon your ‘guy’ here so we can have our conversation. I tire and would like to return below to establish comfortable quarters.”

She stopped and traced a finger across my arm, at the crease of the starfish suit’s covering, lightly biting her lower lip. “Perhaps you will visit them later.”

I yanked my psychic phone out of my pocket and nodded vigorously. “Perhaps!”

Her eyes flared at me, and she smiled deeper.

The face in the phone looked concerned for an instant, and then fixated on my face. “Beholders. Interesting,” he muttered. I blinked and shook my head.

“Axle please.”

The deity raised his eyebrows at me and shrugged, turning aside, and becoming the tunnel of fog. Axle was on the other side, and I could see green skinned gobbs scampering around behind him on a mud-crete construction of some kind.

“Axle, can you come to Mr. Sada’s mansion please and have a hobb escort you to the basement?” I asked quickly, before he could speak.

“Uh, yeah. Sure thing. Let me just find Jada to hold this project down, and I’ll be right there,” he finished and hung up.

Thankfully, he arrived quickly, as promised. The dark elf woman in the hallway flirted with me constantly, and at one point openly undid another button on her top, ensuring her bra was not only visible, but that it commanded the attention anytime I looked at her.

Axle stared as he approached, and she turned away to redo the buttons. His ears went back hard when he sniffed the air, and his claws sparked against the concrete as they extended from his feet.

“Delves,” he said. Taytrinn whipped around and glared at him. Axle merely sniffed the air again. “Many delves.”

“Click your teeth, cur!”

The dark elf reached in her jacket and produced a whip, uncoiling it with a crack. I stepped between her and Axle, but I noticed his jaws shut with a click sound behind me.

“Taytrinn. We have an agreement, do we not?”

I stood close enough to grab the whip but made no motion toward her or her weapon. Her red eyes flicked between me and the Knowle behind me.

She hissed over my shoulder before turning to face me. Her expression softened and she smiled with tight lips.

“I think I shall refrain from interacting with your staff, Tyson, until you can manage them to the point they show proper respect to their betters.”

With that, she turned on her heels and stormed off down the nearby stairs. My helmet showed me her dark clothed assassin hunkered in the elevator shaft, on a ledge of concrete near the front. Unaware I had seen him, he silently dropped down a level. I continued staring directly at him.

Axle’s ears were flat back as he stared at me in the hallway. I saw hobbs moving behind him, and light flooded from the crossroads room. With a quick hiss of air, I removed my helmet and pointed behind him with wide eyes. As we moved, I pulled out my phone again and prepared a text to Taytrinn about needing to schedule a meeting to introduce my logistics foreman to Quadrum.

By the time I hit send on my phone, we were back in Mr. Sada’s basement. Despite the day being spent, and despite the shared tiredness between us all, Rayna, Tollya, and Axle were there, staring at me and waiting for tour meeting to begin. I looked between each of them and shook my head.

“Well everyone, things just got significantly more complicated, and before you ask, no I have no fucking idea how this happened.”

Rayna grunted.

“Hey, stop it. I had no clue that beholders were even a thing, let alone what a giant pain in the ass would come with one. Not like I put a big sign out saying ‘welcome freaky space monsters,’ but they keep showing up anyway!” I gasped, forced to take a breath after my rant and Rayna nodded.

“Not your fault. But bad news. Most of my people will want to leave now no matter what I say to keep them here.” She crossed her arms, and Tollya gave her a sharp look.

“We can handle delves,” the taller woman grunted.

“No one can handle beholders,” Axle replied. “And delves only ever aspire to serve beholders, so I would assume we have one in the basement now, even if you hadn’t just confirmed it.”

His ears were still flat against his head, and I noticed his tail was tucked between his legs. He stared at nothing, a point on the wall as he shook his head.

“Still, it doesn’t seem real. I need a minute. This morning I was on the run from Dearth, and now I’m enslaved to a beholder.”

The Knowle shook his head again and moved to the stairs to sit down.

“Just give me a minute.”

I turned to Rayna. “Can more hobbs leave? I’ll help if I can.”

The grey woman blinked a few times and shook her head. “You not understand. Not many can. Coming out of Storage means losing your place. Have to find new place when you go back. Good place take many time. Centuries.”

Tollya touched her arm, lightly. “Rayna. We cannot tell them about the beholder.”

The other hobb sighed deeply. “We are trapped. Delves kill hobbs for pleasure, or out of anger. BlueCleave will find out soon enough that I brought them to their deaths. Dashed against a beholder for sport!”

Rayna’s fist clenched and she stared at me.

I nodded. “You’re right. You never should have followed me, and I’m genuinely sorry I got all of you into this.”

I took a deep breath and looked each of them in the eye.

“I’ll do whatever I can to keep you safe. Including taking up their attention so they don’t notice you.”

My phone got hot and started jumping around in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see a text from Taytrinn.

She had responded with a syrupy apology for her outburst, and a picture of her new copper tub filled with creamy, steaming liquid and flower petals. Her suit was hung from a rack in the background.

Nothing from her was visible, but the implication was clear. The dark elf assured me she was pampering herself to improve her mood and would be thrilled to see me again soon.

I sighed. “I think I might have a way to do that.” I looked up at Rayna. “At great personal sacrifice, I might add.”

Axle shook his head. “Bedding a delf is not a sacrifice, though they do often delight in playing a black widow, especially with new inclusions or dangerous species, of which you are both.”

“Awesome,” I said. “We have bigger problems. They took the entire residential wing, including the office floors. How the fuck are we supposed to run a Sleem farm now?”

The Knowle tapped a claw against his tooth, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t mean to be rude, Tyson, but shut up for a moment. I’m experiencing something important.”

Tollya pushed Rayna’s shoulder. “We live up above, avoid them. No conflict rules for all hobbs, we be fine.”

She pointed at me. “Tyson will help us.”

The tall hobb turned to me and did that chest thump salute they liked to do. “I trust you, Sleem-slayer.”

I winced. That hurt. “I’m not entirely sure you should. And we need to be careful, they have a sneaky shit on their little team. He’s probably going to be spying on us pretty regularly soon.”

Rayna shook her head. “We’re responsible for their lives, Tollya. Anywhere beholders go with delves, delves kill hobbs. All I can think is who will die first, and for what imagined insult?”

“I’ll stop that from happening, Rayna. However I can.”

I pulled up the picture of the dark elf in her tub and winced again as I raised my fingers to respond. The text felt lopsided, but I hit send anyway. I mentioned that it would upset me greatly if any of my hobbs were killed in any misunderstandings between our affiliates.

Again, I gave a small thought to my impending phone bill.

I received a quick thumbs up in return.

“Her attention is on me, and I think I got her to agree to warn her people not to hurt any hobbs.” I looked into Rayna's large eyes.

She took a deep breath and blinked. “Okay.” The hobb turned to walk up the stairs past Axle, and he reached out to put a huge paw on her shoulder.

“Take solace in the fact that none of us ever had any choice in the matter.”

The Knowle stood, slowly.

“No feeling in the multiverse like fate . . . if it truly exists. Indulge me a moment, Tyson, if you would.”

Tollya chuckled, a dry and tired one.

“That spirit. Go team.”

She clapped me on the shoulder before following Rayna up the stairs. Axle stood his full height and towered over me.

“I need to tell you something about Knowles,” he said. “We named our planet Knowledge. Well, Knowledge in your language. In our own, I doubt you would understand it.”

When I raised an eyebrow, he growled something unintelligible.

I blinked at him and shook my head. “We named ours after the dirt under our feet.”

“Of course you did. It’s what you value, land. Property, ownership. My people valued knowledge, as a concept, so intensely that we named our world of origination after it.”

He paused, his mind in a different place.

“We are called to further and spread knowledge because of this, but in a very general sense. Most of us focus on living our own lives now that we are all part of BuyMort’s descent. But an opportunity to study the movements and machinations of a beholder, while not something most who attempt it survive, is something I simply cannot pass by. Knowledge of them is so limited, and opportunities to study them so rare.”

Axle reached out to clasp my hand. “I will stay here and help you, now. No matter what comes. I wouldn’t be a Knowle at all if I did anything else. Jada will do the same, but she will be angry about it.”

I nodded and grasped his hand back. “Thank you. I’ll do my best to share whatever interactions I have with you.”

“Excellent.” The large hyena-man produced a notepad and pen. “Let’s start first thing in the morning.”

Chapter 25 – Day 5

After a dreamless night of sleep, I woke and had breakfast with Axle, telling him everything that had happened and sharing with him my impressions on the delves now living in our residential ward.

He flipped the notepad shut and nodded. “This is all very grim news. Fascinating though, that their leader appears to desire sexual contact with you this aggressively.”

“Yeah, that’s one word for it.” I sighed and shook my head. It had been a long time since I thought seriously about getting laid.

Now, with BuyMort, sex had come back into my life in a big way, with strange and potentially lethal complications.

“Rayna has briefed Jada and I on your starfish suit, and its capabilities. Your capacity for personal violence as well. I suspect you could survive the encounter, if it comes to that, but that may lead to further complications, no matter the outcome with Lady Shireen.”

He nodded and raised one eyebrow. “Well. No use going in circles over it. Would you like to get started on the Sleem farm now, or see the new residential block and well? They’re both complete. The spider ranch and wall upgrades will be a bit longer, but if we went below to work on the Sleem farm, they may be ready for inspection as well by the time we’re done.”

Exhaustion had set in after the beholder, and all I honestly wanted was a nap. But I shook my head and waved back toward the entrance to the underground base.

Axle clicked on a shoulder lamp and followed.

As we walked, I shared my map data with him. Axle pulled it up on a larger device. He unrolled it as if it were a scroll, but the surface was a clear plastic. The map was easily manipulated, and he spun it to see the different areas as I described them. I also transferred all the data from the Fumble-Bees.

“This is residential, which the delves now own, along with the open floors above it. Below that is experimentation, where the beholder will den. Below that is the Sleem cavern. So,” I said, only onto the ‘O’ sound for a bit longer than necessary, “I have no idea how we’re even supposed to have a Sleem farm anymore.”

Axle nodded and gestured for me to continue.

“They said they won’t interfere, but we’re not welcome or allowed in their areas.” I finished by shrugging. “I think I might be, but just for that one thing.”

Axle pulled the map back further, to show the entire facility, covering the dark underground. He shook his head. “No, a Sleem farm won’t be a problem at all. In fact, coupled with your existing silk production you’ll be well overdue for a higher credit level.”

Axle saw me frown and he opened his mouth, paused, then shut it.

“There’s an application fee and other stuff but we’ll cover all of that later. There are some good perks for a high credit level, so long as you are smart about using them. Let’s get this set up and talk about all of that later. ”

He pointed with a large claw at the hangar labeled testing.

“Right here, in this area would be perfect. We don’t need direct access to their cavern, just the ability to drill into it.”

His finger traced a line between the bottom of testing and the cavern. “Pipes that lead up are of benefit anyway, the Sleem think they’re climbing toward the surface that way. It encourages production, marginally.”

“I like margins,” I offered.

He turned and stared at me. “Yes? Good. Well, we have the digging service on site from the aquifer job still, we can likely re-task them down here. They’re finishing up above, and another job under the table is always welcome.”

He grinned, nodding more to himself than me. “Yes, yes, they’ll consider it a bonus. All we need now is a freezing tank.”

He topped, a finger to his chin.

“More than one freezing tank if we can afford it, and an oversized breach pipe, too, to ensure that we can upgrade to more freezers as soon as the farm is up and running.”

I nodded blankly. “What’s a freezing tank?”

Axle idly waved up BuyMort and began swiping through it. Within a few seconds, an item had arrived in the purchase queue for our affiliate.

Presenting Hypier’s Improved Living Cold-On-Demand Refrigeration and Freezing. Reduce your waste with the pinnacle of Refrigeration Technology. Comes in Light-Blue, Metallic-Grey, or Satanic Red.

Don’t just go for good. Go Hyper with Hypier!

The freezing tank was a fairly simple industrial blast chiller that had been repurposed to entice Sleem inside, securely contain them, then slowly but steadily freeze them for sale. The method of freezing not only killed the Sleem humanely, it promised, but it ensured multiple Sleem could be stored and made ready for sale within a single unit.

Apparently, they didn’t mind crawling over their own dead for the lures each unit used.

The cellular material their bodies were comprised of settled during the freezing process. Each Sleem would slump into the refrigeration unit frame as it died, one on top of the other.

Quite brutal, the way Axle explained the process. But all of them killed before they had killed or consumed enough of their own number to gain any measure of sapience.

And honestly, they were dicks. So It didn’t matter.

What mattered is that they all sold for plenty of morties, and Sleem carcasses were an extremely stable market.

After all, everybody needs toothpaste and mud-crete.

We entered the hangar proper, and Axle immediately noticed the compromised staircase. He made a note to have it repaired and we moved in further. Upon reaching the far side, he made some more notes, and pointed to the furthest corner of the massive room.

“This is really an excellent location for a Sleem farm. We can set up stacking tank units in here and fill this entire room, once the Sleem production is up enough. There’s plenty of room for freezers, so production can grow to become prolific. There’s even space in here for large scale operation items, like a feeder system.”

His voice drifted off as he stared up into the far distant ceiling. “It drips nutriment slurry to the Sleem in order to increase their growth rate. I had been prepared to deliver a source of radiation for them to feed from as well, but it looks like they chose that cavern because it has a source of radiation already present.”

He pointed to the side of his map, where a read out of various environmental statistics was present. “Your Fumble-Bee drones are reading fissile material, in a pattern that makes me think it was manufactured.”

“This used to be a military base, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they left behind some plutonium or something. They were kinda nutty about that stuff for a while, back then,” I trailed off, and Axle turned to stare at my helmet again.

“Well, that aids us. The Sleem are thickest right on top of it.”

He pointed at the map, tracing a line across the bottom of the cavern.

“Right now, the level of Sleem is up to about here, but if we continue to nurture this batch, it could fill entirely, resulting in dramatically higher rate of reproduction. This could be a highly profitable farm.”

I nodded and pointed at him. “With your help, hell yes. Is that secure though? Supposedly, Sleem have BuyMort. How are we supposed to stop them from escaping?”

Axle shook his head and waved a paw dismissively. “We’re not, that’s the beauty of Sleem farming. They think they have a way out, our pipe, so they don’t bother spending morties or attempting escape otherwise. They’ll just breed and keep sending out oozes as long as they have water and radiation enough to make more.”

I nodded, impressed. “Okay, that works out. So how do we automate it?”

He glanced up from his scroll, before sliding it shut and tucking it back away in one of his various pockets.

“Easily. The refrigeration units I want to order have portals for BuyMort drones to collect product. All you have to do is order it through the affiliate, and the units will allow you to make the sales remotely.”

I pulled up the affiliate page to approve the purchase and get that initial refrigeration unit in place. While I waited for the pod, Axle left, returning within minutes with his digging crew. It was composed of two orcs, a hobb, and a single human, all of whom immediately got to work setting up their equipment.

It took a few trips, but within the hour they were set up and digging, using our portable solar generator for power.

The machine they built was deceptively simple. It fitted and propelled a self-guiding, digging pipe. The front of the pipe was a remotely controlled drill bit capable of breaking through different materials, based on scans and need.

Once dug, the drill would detach into four composite parts, which would then return up newly laid pipe to be reused. It was the cornerstone of their affiliate, Axle explained to me.

Lost pipe drillers could mean the end of their lives through the end of their livelihoods. Or at least exile to Storage. Both of us shuddered over that thought.

Axle’s tail had come back to a more neutral position as we worked, but I noticed his ears never stopped being pasted to his head. The arrival of the beholder had thrown a wrench into an already complex situation.

I was beginning to get the impression that a great many of the aliens I had accumulated were merely caught up in the chaos of BuyMort’s arrival as well. Axle and Jada were on foot. As I watched him work with the digging crew, I wondered how far they would make it if they left this place.

The drilling drones were impressive. Each one linked in together in order to drill, and then again in a smaller formation in order to travel back up the pipe. The drones dug and crawled slowly, dragging the first portion of pipe with it.

Each subsequent section of piping had to be attached as it was sinking into the ground, but the dig crew worked together easily and quickly, and each weld was inspected before it disappeared into the hole.

As the drones dug, the ever-growing pipe followed behind and compacted the earthen walls around it with loose dirt from the dig.

My Knowle helped guide and position the pipe, which was large enough to walk through comfortably standing for most non-mordren. Axle explained that was important, as scale was intended to rise, and early installations like this allowed for much greater capacity as soon as funding was in place for it.

This way, he claimed, was far cheaper than renovating your digs.

Anything you had to dig for, you didn’t want to have to dig up very often to upgrade. Especially where the Sleem are concerned.

A special pipe head had to be purchased, to secure the pipe in the Sleem cavern upon arrival. If there were cracks in the stone around it, they would burrow out, eventually becoming a significant escape risk.

I thought at BuyMort, requesting ads.

The world began to spin, so I specified further. “No Clippy!”

The spinning stopped, and a series of floating, multi-colored bubbles crowded into my vision.

“Cheapest pipe head you can find that fits the requirements for the current project. Must be above four point five stars. And I want reviews that note that it is sturdy.”

Bubbles began popping, their advertisements screaming in high-pitched fury as they faded into the air. Finally, there was just one.

If you gotta pipe it, it must be important. Vera-Piping Important. Plasti-steel composite threading, astral 4D smart-tech plating, and a hyper-neuronium gloss that will never leech into any liquid, acid, or base.

When it’s gotta be piped, use a total piping solution. Go Strong with Vera-Piping. 4.5 stars. 1,000,000 morties.

I hated BuyMort. I really did. But there were times where it saved you such a goddamn headache that if it wasn’t for the constant death and subjugation around me, I could maybe get used to this thing.

I sent those million morties, gave my money to the hopefully non-asshole manufacturers of some name brand self-securing pipe head that seemed perfectly designed for this use and then watched, in awes, as it flash-melted the stone around it upon arrival, creating a seal in the wall and preventing Sleem leakage.

I was unsurprised to see the Dearth Conglomerate’s seal upon the device.

Axle told me they were major manufacturers, and sold a wide range of products, especially on new BuyMort worlds. Riding the nanite wave and exploiting the different worlds it arrived at was big business.

Since we’d had to establish the piping area in the center of the two hangar structures, Axle and I had a conversation about the space craft that was still sitting at a tilt in the first one. He had merely stared at it while we walked past on our way in.

“What, exactly, are you planning on doing with that ship?” He asked me while tapping a claw against his front teeth and staring at it.

“That’s to fix up and give to Mr. Sada. He wants to leave, and honestly, things will run much smoother around here if he is encouraged to do so.”

I glanced between him and the diggers. They were breaking the concrete with hammers before allowing their remote drill to get started on the area. They appeared to want to preserve the large drilling drones as much as they could.

Axle nodded and turned to look at me. “Ah, yes. This elusive affiliate owner. I understand there have been some issues.”

I laughed and nodded. “Yeah. How should I put this delicately? There are questions of competence and intent.”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “Significant?”

I nodded, my helmet moving in the dark. “Potentially lethal.”

Axle nodded back, then turned to stare at the ship for a few minutes, while the drill echoed in its warm abode of emplaced lighting behind us. Finally, he asked, “How honest would you like my counsel to be, in this matter?”

I shrugged. “How honest with me do you feel the need to be?”

The Knowle nodded. “You may want to consider ending his life, and claiming his MortBlock, if he is that big a threat to this compound, and you are invested in survival.”

He shook his head.

“What I heard about the spider ranch concerns me greatly. That is the kind of action that would lead to summary execution in some affiliates, especially those without operational security in a dangerous, unpredictable part of BuyMort’s greater system.”

I stared at him while he spoke, and as he finished, I nodded. “Thank you for your honest counsel. This conversation stays between the two of us.”

Axle nodded immediately, and his tail tucked again. “Understood.”

“You misunderstand, Axle.” I shook my head at him. “I agree with you. Many others have mentioned similar solutions. That’s why I’m trying to get him out of here instead. I would . . . prefer not to kill him. Can you help me with the ship?”

His tail returned to a relaxed posture and his ears perked momentarily.

“Ah, that is a relief. Yes, the ship would be a decent project. I don’t have a massive amount of expertise on human living standards in spacecraft, but the research should be simple. Assuming we have a healthy budget to work from, it can be completed quickly.”

“How quickly?” I asked.

“When the Sleem farm is operational, we should focus on more refrigeration units at first, to multiply the income.”

He pulled out his scroll again and unrolled it.

“This cavern has an excellent density of Sleem, and from the data your Fumble-Bees were able to send before they lost charge, it is increasing significantly even as we speak. They have a healthy source of water, likely some leakage from the upper portions of the aquifer.”

He pointed at a box of data on the right side of the map, a sort of legend it seemed but upon closer examination it contained a wellspring of geological data.

“The walls are primarily limestone, gypsum, some marble. Excellent to contain them, which birthing Sleem actually prefer anyway. Better security and stability. Young Sleem can be caustic to softer ground, until they learn to control their bodies.”

He was on a roll, so I just leaned against a nearby pillar and listened.

“It’s fascinating, their growth rate here is so healthy. They must have something more than just the trace radiation leftover from your military’s experiments.”

He snapped his fingers and looked at the ceiling.

“Beholders are known to emit a very passive form of radiation, it must be phenomenal feed for the Sleem.”

I raised a finger and added in, “Plus the birthing block thing. That sounds like it’s supposed to create new Sleem, and it’s huge.”

He nodded vigorously, his ears now remaining in an upright position.

“Yes, and the beholder itself has come to study it, which means it may be unique in some way. Birthing blocks are not exactly common, but they are not so rare as to attract the attention of a beholder.”

Axle rubbed his chin in thought, turning back to the dig site. One of the workers saw him and waved.

“Ah, they’re nearly finished. The final part of the dig is the only part with any risk, I want to supervise.”

All the rest of the parts we needed were ordered and ready, sitting on the concrete next to the dig site. It was a massive pile of piping, for the most part.

Axle assured me he and the dig team could get it assembled without any trouble. It was all designed to be put in place quickly, due to the immediate threat of Sleem coming up the pipe.

The work team started shouting suddenly, and Axle picked up the pace. When we arrived, I stood back and watched.

It was time to start getting shit done.

Chapter 26

Axle stood over the shoulder of one of the orcs, who was using a large device with a screen in the center of it to control the drill bit.

“Something has it!” the orc exclaimed. “It was evacuating the pipe without incident, but it suddenly stopped and is no longer responding.”

He reached up a hand and tugged at one of his lower tusks, forehead furrowed with stress.

“Redline the engines, it should let go. If something has it, it’s Sleem, and they don’t like heat. Heat up the engines.”

Axle pointed at a control on the device and the orc immediately punched it with a big, green skinned finger.

I stepped up behind them to watch, with the other orc and human in their group. They both had furrowed brows, and the orc nibbled on a thumbnail.

“It’s moving again.” The orc near Axle said. “Slowly, but it’s moving.”

Axle clapped him on the shoulder. “See? Heat up the engines and solve any Sleem problem.”

I was watching on the device over their shoulders, as a large blinking drill icon slowly crawled its way back up the pipe we had just installed.

Suddenly, it stopped again. The generator sparked and wound down with a quiet hum, as thin smoke rose from its seals.

The orc using the device immediately hit the button again, but the drill had no power. The fear, nerves, and stress around me peaked, as each of them became silent and watched.

Once the drill let go of the final patch of piping, it was gone forever, and the orc holding its control device slumped with a sob. The generator tipped over as the cable attached to it was yanked out and vanished down the pipe.

Axle looked between the work crew and me with wide eyes. “I do not understand how, but the Sleem have taken the drill bit. We cannot retrieve it.”

I shook my head. “An orb maybe? They’re significantly stronger than the other Sleem.”

Axle nodded, a grim look on his face as he approached me. “Perhaps. Over here, please.”

I walked behind the hulking, humanoid hyena as he approached the partially hovering ship again. He stepped behind one of the engines and gestured me over. All sound on the other side of the humming object was drowned out by its soft, background buzz.

“Can we replace that drone?” he asked.

I blinked in the helmet, then shrugged. “I have no idea how much one of those things even costs.”

Axle did some manipulation of his own BuyMort screens, and suddenly another item arrived in the affiliate purchase queue.

The price-tag on the drone was just over fourteen million, far more than we had left in the operational fund.

I shook my head as I looked at it. “Not with what we have.” With a small sigh, I pulled my phone out again and thought of Mr. Sada’s face when the psychic deity within stared at me.

My former boss turned current partner answered after a few seconds. He was laying in bed, and I could hear the TV behind him. At least he looked sober.

“Hey, Mr. Sada. You’re not gonna like this, but we have a bit of a situation downstairs and need some morties,” I started.

He glared at my helmet on his screen, a frown forming at the corner of his lips. “How much?”

The question’s tone was tired and told me he wasn’t likely to be in a helpful mood.

“Fourteen point one-two-five mill, to be exact,” I answered.

His facial features reacted as though I had slapped him. His head started shaking before he spoke. “And what is this for?”

“A work crew that we hired lost their drilling drone to our Sleem.” I held the phone out so Axle could see it and waited.

Mr. Sada’s head kept shaking. “No, Tyson, we don’t replace their equipment. That’s just a risk of the job.”

“Yeah, about that. We actually hired these guys to dig us a well, and this other job was extra, on the side. They cut us a hell of a deal on the dig, but now without their drone, I think they’re in serious trouble.”

I glanced over to the work crew to see each of them staring at Axle and myself. The orc who had been running the drone’s control device was silently crying, moisture rolling down his cheeks.

Mr. Sada’s expression hardened, and he shook his head again.

“Risks of the job, Tyson. I assume you told them what they were drilling to?”

When I nodded, he clapped his hand and cocked his head to the side with a grin. “Well, there you go. Risk understood and accepted. Not on us.”

“We have more than enough morties to fix this, and we can replace them quick, with the Sleem farm these guys helped us get up and running,” I said, doing my best to keep the growing anger out of my voice.

“We? I have the morties to fix it, Tyson, and I’m saying no. Part of being the moneyman is making hard decisions with it. None of this is our problem, and I don’t want to risk our lives with frivolous spending.”

He didn’t bother trying to act like he wasn’t angry. His face was getting redder the longer we talked, and I was clearly upsetting him.

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. “Mr. Sada. Anthony. Partner.”

He frowned and scowled, but I continued, “We cannot allow these people to die because they chose to risk helping us for a little bit of extra pay. Not when we have the ability to do something about it.”

“Oh die?” he scoffed. “That’s awfully dramatic, Tyson. Partner.”

My jaw muscles stiffened at the mockery.

“I hate to have to tell you this, Tyson, but those people aren’t our problem. They took their chances, and this kind of shit is just what happens sometimes.”

He finished with a wave of his hand.

“Let me know if you need morties for something serious, something real.”

And then he disconnected his phone. The psychic deity hovered in his place, shaking his head sadly.

I pocketed the device and sighed. Axle looked between me and the work crew.

“Should I?” He started, motioning with his free hand to the crew. They were still staring at us.

“No,” I growled.

Without hesitating, I turned and pointed at the ship in our hangar. I was done letting him hurt people and put them at risk for his greed. From this point out, only Anthony Sada would suffer from Anthony Sada’s poor judgment.

“BuyMort, I’d like to sell that.”

I ran the sale through my own personal account, even though it would have made us more through the affiliate. Anything sold through that went into Mr. Sada’s account, primarily. I couldn’t risk the ten percent I would get access to being too little to cover the drone, and I assumed the ship would net me a windfall.

Purchase: Space-flight capable vehicle. Tortusian light cruiser, flicker drive enabled. Rarity, common. Condition, poor. 25,999,999 Morties dispensed.

Sadly, the purchase only earned me a little over twenty-five million and change. As the drone entered the underground chamber to warp the ship away, my heart seized in my chest for an instant. I knew this meant bad problems between myself and Mr. Sada if he found out.

The ship warped away in a rainbow beam, and I took a deep breath when I saw the morties. It would work, but I needed to scramble to get the morties back and buy Mr. Sada another ship. I pushed the thoughts away and hurriedly approved the purchase. I used most of Silken Sand’s account but left a few thousand in place to keep Mr. Sada’s suspicions off me, and then filled in the rest with my personal account.

Silken Sands' operational budget dropped to near zero — and time slowed to a fraction of its former self. Humans, monsters, aliens of all shapes and sizes but wearing suits and ties stepped out of every conceivable hiding place, words and numbers on their lips.

Fucking loan sharks.

Welcome Tyson, level 30 poor shopper. Your affiliate seems to have run low on morties. Lucky for you, BuyMort Loans and Lending has you covered. Affiliates of every shape and size are here to help you survive. For interest. With collateral. Here at BuyMort, no project is too minor, no dream too insignificant to be considered —

"Nope." I interrupted. The loan officers froze. "Fell for that once before you assholes came here. Not doing it again."

I dumped more morties into the affiliate account, topping it off any time it got low. I was not about to deal with BuyMort SameDay Loans, whatever nightmare that all encompassed.

It worked. At the end of it all I still had eleven million morties in my own account and no one was dead.

Axle nodded when he saw the purchase and stepped away to tell the digging crew about the good news. As I watched, the pod that had taken the ship turned back half-way across the hangar and deposited the new drilling drone.

BuyMort appeared to use the drones as needed, with a proximity-based response system. That explained why the wait time between different transactions was so disparate.

The digging crew became ecstatic upon arrival of the new drone. The hobb even hugged me at one point.

A faint, echoing fart sounded from the open pipe jutting from the floor and reminded us of an important detail. The Sleem were coming straight to us.

Axle barked a few guttural words and the crew started moving again, working with efficiency and precision. They still had worried expressions, but nobody wanted to get eaten by the Sleem.

A few minutes with the tools and equipment that had been purchased, and a large vat was seated in place on the top of the newly laid pipe. The entire construction was tucked up against the wall, almost dead center between both hangars.

It had several offshoot ports, holes at the top where other pipes were meant to be fitted. There were eight separate holes to weld pipes into, and we all pitched in to help.

I was able to at least hold the pipes in the air as Axle and the orcs worked in a frenzy with their welders. The pipes were all sealed at the end with a simple guillotine door system, and we left that one for last.

As we worked to seal the last pipe in place and connect it to the blast chiller, I heard the slopping fart sounds of Sleem coming up the pipe again, much louder. Orange gelatin suddenly rushed into the vat’s bottom, and I shoved the last pipe in place. Axle hurriedly swept the welder over the seal, and we stepped back with a sigh of relief.

The work crew began packing up their equipment to leave, and Axle showed me something he had drawn on his device. It was a still-image map of the hangar, and Axle had sectioned it off with various lines and squares.

The first refrigeration unit fit perfectly into the square closest to his drawing of the pipe system. He had worked out the available footage from the Fumble-Bee footage, then drawn in squares for blast chillers, and lines for the necessary piping.

According to his calculations, we could eventually fit a massive amount of blast chillers in the space we had available. Just under two thousand separate units.

Axle assured me it was a sizable Sleem farm, and that our cavern below could support that much volume easily, if we fed them a regular diet.

Another BuyMort drone interrupted us, arriving, and tracing out an area on the ground before opening a rainbow beam. The work crew said their thanks and goodbyes, gathered up their equipment, and started walking into the beam one by one.

Axle stood in silence as they departed, but as soon as they were gone, he raised his snout to me.

“We should figure out power. The charging station you bought is fried. It would not have been enough for our needs at any rate.”

I turned to glare at him, which was thankfully hidden by my helmet.

“Awesome. Just fuckin’ great. So, what, I just bought junk?”

Axle shrugged. “Maybe. Plenty of scam sales out there. Maybe BuyMort just sold you something that cannot operate in this planet’s unique radiation signature. It is a gamble, at times,” he said.

“BuyMort scans about planet suitability are often generous in the interest of furthering commerce, but never falsified. There is very little that cannot be salvaged in some way or other. I will take a look at it later.”

He nodded, as if answering some question only he had heard.

“Neither here nor there. Right now, we need something that can power the entire facility. Residential blocks as well, if at all possible.”

I pulled up my Afflqwst app and stared at it. The quest for becoming a real affiliate was almost complete. All that was left was a power source for the Sleem farm.

The problem, of course, was that there wasn’t much of anything substantial left in the affiliate account, so this one would be all on me. As would most things, I suspected, until those Sleem sales started rolling in.

With a deep sigh, I swung through my ad history and pulled up something specific.

Chapter 27

By running through my ad history and selecting one of my bookmarks, I was able to find what I needed.

CUBE — CUBE ALWAYS WANTS MORE AMBIENT RADIATION. PRODUCE MUCH ENERGY.

DO NOT DEFY CUBE.

CUBE FITS IN POCKET, DEVOURS AMBIENT RADIATION, RADIATES HOLY POWER FOR MACHINES. CUBE IS YOUR FRIEND.

CUBE IS YOUR KING.

ALL HAIL CUBE! 45,000 morties. 4.1 stars. (CUBE docking station included. Please take CUBE. Please.)

The Knowle across from me seemed to notice my unhappy body language, because he approached and poked my shoulder to get my attention. I swiped the item into the affiliate’s cart.

“What do you think of that?” I asked, staring at him for a reaction.

He pulled up the account and frowned as he read it over.

“I know of these. They’re rare now, but they used to be common. Bio-mechanical, semi-dimensionally anchored objects. Partially sapient, but unable to use BuyMort, and so sold on its markets. They are known to be unpredictable, but excellent power sources. They eat radiation and excrete alternating current as waste.”

I flinched. “Sapient? I don’t want to enslave something.” Then I winced again. “Aside from all those Sleem, of course.”

Axle smiled softly and shook his head. “The sapient Sleem want to eat you, and Sleem that haven’t combined with others aren’t yet sapient. So, I wouldn’t worry about the Sleem.”

He raised a finger. “And on your other observation, well, once, perhaps, that would have been the case. But now, I would consider it more like rescuing a pet. BuyMort is kinder to some species than others.”

That made things considerably easier, and I trusted Axle. After a few minutes of waiting, another pod swept in and deposited a cardboard box at my feet. It was one of the smaller boxes, and I became concerned until I used my camp knife to open it.

Cube was in there, with his docking station, and a small note attached to the box that read in giant, blocky letters,

“Take good care of little CUBE!”

I folded the note and put it in a pocket, before reaching into the box and lifting out my new Cube.

It immediately shrieked at me, and I dropped it back into the box.

The Cube was, indeed, a cube. Its surface was uneven, bulky in some areas, and smooth in others.

But Cube was quite bizarre upon real examination.

Near the front end, where the sound had come from, was a mouth made from a series of overlapping metal plates that created a seam not unlike a pair of lips. There were no other recognizable features on the cube, only the mouth.

Once it flopped into place on the plate it had come with, it seemed happy again, and remained quiet. When I reached a hand in and touched it, the mouth moved. It merely pressed open its lips and showed me its ‘teeth.’

The thing had a micro sized industrial shredder behind its lips, and as my hand got close, it revved up. Two segmented rollers spun and ground against one another, meeting in the center.

It sounded like a tiny growl, and I quickly retracted my hand again, before tilting my helmet up to look up at Axle.

He smiled and shook his head.

“Unpredictable.”

Then he realized the source of my hesitation and he smiled. “But I don’t think it’ll bite you.

I thumped the starfish suit. “It doesn’t really matter if it does, I guess I was just hoping for some guidance on what to expect.”

Axle nodded, deeply. He reached a claw up and scratched behind one ear.

“I have no practical experience with Cubes, the larger affiliates don’t generally use them.”

He leaned forward and stared into the box, his nostrils flaring with each rapid, sniffing breath.

“Strange. Difficult to recognize the organic scent, but it’s there.”

He turned to my silent, staring helmet again and took a breath.

“Typically, they desire ambient radiation, peace, and quiet. They work quite well as a power plant because of this, and often even mild ambient radiation like what is available this deep underground is enough for them to be comfortably fed and produce power.”

The Knowle shrugged and looked back in the box with a forward lean.

“It will have demands, however, and can become quite temperamental if those demands are not met.”

“How the hell does something like this evolve?” I asked, peering back down into the box myself.

The Cube was grumbling to itself, the metal staggered plates making up its lips producing tiny movements and sound. It was small enough to fit in the palm of one hand, and everything else on it was even smaller.

“Cube is an item of unknown origin. First entered into BuyMort a few thousand years ago, but records from then are difficult to find and decipher, so it’s not generally known if they were discovered and brought into the system, like all sapient life is, or if it was developed inside of the system.”

Axle shrugged, his hands out and palms up in a gesture that clearly stated ‘whatcha-gonna-do’.

“They are difficult to damage or destroy, but not well liked, so their population has dwindled over time. Most people ignore them, but a common removal tactic is to simply throw them away in space.”

“So, there’s a bunch of these things floating through space right now?”

I looked down incredulously at the little Cube. Its sound had changed from a grumble of discontentment to a low purr. Its plated metal ‘lips’ were no longer moving.

Axle nodded. “Indeed. Feasting on cosmic radiation and growing, likely quite content. Space is very quiet, and generally quite peaceful.”

I nodded as he finished speaking. “Well, that’s horrifying. Remind me not to throw this thing into space if I get sick of it.”

“Something tells me I won’t have to.”

He smiled and turned back to his refrigeration unit. The Knowle opened a panel and dug in it for a few seconds before drawing out a length of cabling and bringing it over. It had exposed copper wires sticking from the end of it.

“This will obviously need to be rerun once we establish the primary power hub with this little guy, but there’s no reason I can’t perform a quick test. Should be Sleem in the system already, they tend to just stop and wait when there’s no way out of a pipe, if they can’t go back. Incredibly patient creatures, at times.”

He reached a huge, furred hand into the box with Cube and carefully lowered the exposed end of the cable down to its base. Once the wires made contact, the base absorbed the exposed ends of them.

The material, which I had assumed was metal, became liquid at the points of contact with the wire, and flowed to reform around them. A small green light blinked on the refrigeration unit behind Axle, and I pointed in excitement.

“It’s working!”

“NO TOUCH!” Cube suddenly shrieked.

Its voice issued from behind the rolling wheels of the industrial shredder and was far louder than the tiny creature's size would indicate. The cables embedded in its base were spat out and the blinking light turned off.

Axle raised an eyebrow.

“Odd. I can rig up a receiver for its energy excretions. Seems like it doesn’t want physical cables attached to its bed.”

“What is that bed, anyway?” I asked, staring at the strange mound of metal.

Cube suddenly moved, shifting back and forth to snuggle down further into the metal it was seated upon. The bed turned to liquid metal where Cube’s body touched it, and once the small block stopped moving, the metal re-solidified around it.

The Knowle tilted his head and winced. “Ahh, think of those like the mother’s placenta, but with a very different purpose.”

I blinked and turned the helmet to stare at him.

Axle still stared down into the cardboard box.

“Cubes give birth, of a sort. They spit out their young from that mouth on the front. It’s their only orifice or appendage.”

He paused and looked up at me.

“Most Cubes grow a long, snakelike tongue, which they use to manipulate the world around them like a limb, when they choose to. This is that tongue, which the mother cuts off a portion of, in order to provide the newly birthed Cube with security and comfort.”

I stared. “Is that safe? It seems a bit like whipping a newborn into the forest, doesn’t it?”

Axle shook his head and laughed. “No. It is nearly impossible to remove a young Cube from its bedding, but the single recorded instance resulted in the immediate death of the Cube and required tremendous expense to perform. This ritual of theirs is important to them in some way we can’t fully understand.”

I nodded as if it all made sense.

“It accepts all types of conductive material, if there is a way to expel some of the waste alternating current. The Cube excretes directly into it, until the bedding portion dies and is discarded in the next phase of life.”

“That’s alarming,” I added, still nodding.

“No, not at all. When Cubes enter their next life phase, they gain a tremendous amount of control over their energy excretions, and no longer require such aid.”

Axle reached carefully down to the little block of purring metal and lightly rubbed the top of it with a claw. The surface did not mar or scratch at all, but the Cube’s purring escalated in volume.

“What a fascinating little creature,” the Knowle said, sitting down and smiling, staring into the box.

“I must admit that your affiliate is unusual, and quite frightening so far. But I now have two rare opportunities to further knowledge for myself and the multiverse, so I must thank you.”

I smiled, not that he could see it. “Yeah, there’s plenty of wonder in our little slaughterhouse, if you know where to look.”

I stood and reached in the box to pick up the cube, and its placenta-tongue thing. As soon as my fingers wrapped around the base, it screamed again, in that metallic, screeching voice.

“NO TOUCH!”

I let go and jumped back a step. “Cheese on Pasta, okay! I won’t touch!”

Axle chuckled, deep in his throat.

“Yeah. Demanding. That is a common trait.”

He tilted his head, which made me smile behind my helmet.

“I must say though, so far the demands seem more like the crying of a newborn cub. Simple communication of needs through the expression of discomfort. Perhaps a loving relationship can be crafted. Worthy of attempt, at any rate.”

He stood and brushed off his knees. “Shall we? There is much to show you above ground.”

I nodded and moved to pick up Cube again. This time, I merely reached for the cardboard box. I still grimaced in anticipation and moved slowly, but the little creature had no reaction.

Sighing in relief, I hefted the box and carried it to follow Axle. Before we left, I guided Axle to the secret tunnel door, explained where it went, and secured the heavy door. While we were doing that, I set Cube and its box down.

When I picked it back up, I tucked it under one arm.

“BOTH HANDS!” it shrieked, rocking back and forth.

I immediately obeyed.

We walked back up to Mr. Sada’s basement, where I paused again. After thinking about it for a few minutes, I decided it was probably a bad idea to lock the hatch in the basement.

I was concerned about the delves in residential but trying to lock them up was probably only going to create more problems. They thought we were pliant, and their leader had designs on me. That bought us time.

Instead, all I did was section off their portion of the underground area in my MortBlock and refresh the device. I kept the cavern filled with Sleem active but left experimentation and residential entirely out of the scan, as ordered.

That done, I left the basement door open and gave orders to the hobbs guarding the house to leave room in their patrols to miss any movement coming from the basement. I also checked out back in the shed, but the mordren had not returned.

Before we left, I called for a break in the kitchen and set down Cube.

“Give me a minute, please, Axle. I have some affiliate screens to manage.”

He nodded, moved over to the stairs, and sat down to read and make notes on his device.

I leaned against the kitchen counter but noticed Zach glaring at me from the couch across the room. Ordo was guarding him still, and noticed, but did not move to punish or stop the man.

“Hi, Zach!” I waved cheerfully, and stepped out of his view, moving to the other side of the kitchen.

“Fuck you traitor!” he spit. “You’ll die by firing squad, from patriot’s bullets!”

“Hey,” Ordo’s gruff voice cut in. “Calm down.”

“I am calm!” Zach shouted. “Fuck you too, slave! We’ll kill every grey-skin we see when we storm this-OW FUCK!“ His words were followed by a heavy thud.

When I peeked back around the corner, I saw Ordo carefully helping him up and back into his seat, from a full crumple on the floor.

“Told you calm down.”

The hobb glanced back at me once Zach was in place and shook his head.

“I no hurt. He fall.”

I snorted a laugh. “Seriously? Why am I not surprised?”

Zach was leaning and clutching at his wounded leg, straining to control his pain reaction.

Still, he managed to wheeze out insults. “Go fuck yourself!”

“Yes, I know, I know.” I turned away and went back into the kitchen. “You say that all the time.”

I mentally shut out the idiot and pulled up my Afflqwst app. It had two notifications waiting for me, both completed quests.

Actually, to be honest, it had tried to throw notifications at me while we were down below, but it became such second nature to just wave everything away, I barely even registered that it was my quests completing.

Quest - Your affiliate is an affiliate in name only. Complete basic start up requirements in order to provide a functional business model, and the bare minimum requirements of sustaining life.

REQUIREMENTS:

1. Produce a regular source of income.

2. Provide shelter, water, food, and power for affiliate operators.

PROBABLE OUTCOME - Affiliate seizure. (65%).

POSSIBLE OUTCOME - Affiliate establishment. (35%).

REWARD - Upgrade coupon on select Afflqwst items.

A coupon fluttered from the quest reward section to my account in the form of another gift card, and the affiliate I had bought the starfish suit from awaited me once more.

Quest - Your affiliate stands to profit from the establishment of a Sleem farm. You must locate a suitable containment area for Sleem, and shepherd all Sleem inside.

REQUIREMENTS:

1. Locate ideal Sleem containment zone.

2. Clear base of Sleem Affiliate forces.

3. Secure Sleem containment zone.

PROBABLE OUTCOME – Establishment of Sleem farm. (75%).

POSSIBLE OUTCOME – Attain rare affiliate partnership.

REWARD - Sale coupon on select premium Afflqwst items.

This time when the coupon deposited itself in my personal account, I pulled up BuyMort to find the affiliate that had provided Afflqwst and the starfish suit again. The Teslak Cooperative.

The amount of morties in my account boggled my mind. I had two billion, one hundred thousand new morties.

Due to the coupons, the morties were flagged for use only with the one specific affiliate.

Anytime I went there, I had to use the coupon’s keywords to access the hidden shop. Each time, some variation of ‘destroy BuyMort’ was used to finish the string of code words.

For my upgrade, the code word string was straightforward. Starfish, base-tier, upgrade, optimization, kill BuyMort.

For my new item, it was a little more interesting. Stat-Shot comp, patch, genome, crystalline, wreck BuyMort.

I blinked at the phrases but entered the upgrade line first. Before I hit the button to enter my own mind and visit this ruined affiliate in the virtual space, I made sure Axle was aware and ready to stand guard.

He waved his device at me and nodded.

Chapter 28

When I opened my eyes on the affiliate, it looked roughly the same. The weird blackish-red light pouring in from the outside seemed a little more intense, but otherwise all the rubble and cracks were in the right places.

“Specter?” I called.

Nothing happened. Once again, the kiosk ahead of me in the affiliate was alive. This time a small section on it was blinking, so I approached it and pressed the light with a finger.

The nicer looking version of Specter arrived, clean cut and wearing his scorched but beautiful apron. Once again, his hair was covering his ears, but the angular nature of his face made me wonder if he had any relation to the delves in the basement.

His skin was much lighter in tone, and his features were less extreme, but my suspicion was that he was elf-approximate.

“Good evening, sir!” He chirped, staring straight ahead.

“I see you are here to discuss an upgrade for your Starfish extreme environment suit.”

The image stuttered and changed slightly.

“As well as a perk patch purchase. Which would you like to do-like to do first?”

The visual stammer matched the audio, with the hologram repeating his words and actions exactly.

I hesitated. Looked like no matter which coupon I put in, I would only get one visit.

“What is BuyMort?” I asked.

The projection flickered, and the background began to expand again. I sighed, right before it cut out. As soon as he re-appeared and repeated his question, I shook my head.

“The suit,” I said.

“Very good sir, there are many-there are many options when it comes to upgrading the Starfish extreme environment suit. The Teslak Cooperative is happy to assist in selecting the right option for you-the right option for you.”

Specter in customer service mode was quickly frustrating me, but he was good at laying out the products.

“I see that you already have our adaptive threat recognition system and primary reactor installed. This will allow for the installation of three primary system paths. This initial upgrade will determine the direction of your suit’s advanced utility, though aspects of all predetermined paths will be present in any choice of upgrade.”

The projection didn’t stammer once, and then blinked out entirely upon finishing its statement.

When it started up again, the background matched our current environment. The same red and black light flooded Specter’s background as did mine, and he looked wounded, but in stable condition.

“If you’ve made it this far, you know the suit no longer just recognizes threats.”

He leaned forward over the counter.

“The reactor is the engine; it holds all the potential. I modified them all to work with the threat reaction system to repair the user, you, instead of just their own systems. Though, with the hardening I added, it’s unlikely to require repair.”

His eyes flickered up to where I was standing, and the projection pointed at me.

“I’m sure you think of this as quite brutal, since you’ve survived long enough to be accessing your first upgrade.”

I shook my head as he continued. It was brutal, but everything in BuyMort was brutal, and this specific brutality helped me stay alive.

He continued.

“This next tier of upgrade will make that system somewhat less horrible by securing portions of your body, in accordance with the upgrade you choose.”

Specter shook his head, bobbing his long, fine hair.

“But, until you are completely covered by the suit, any injuries will be dealt with in the same manner. There will simply be fewer injuries to sustain.”

I blinked at that information, but Specter waved his bandaged hand, and a trio of holographic images spun into place in front of me. Each was a physical upgrade to the starfish suit.

The first appeared to be a propulsion system. It had intake vents above a single large output and looked as though it would fit on my back. The inside wall of the apparent jetpack was another starfish, its thick, broad tentacles moving gently in the image.

When I focused on the jetpack, Specter suddenly blinked out and was replaced with his customer service replacement.

Glaring blue light filled the affiliate, and the jetpack enlarged as the other two options shrank.

“The Teslak Cooperative is proud to introduce, proud to introduce the very best in personal mobility upgrades, to complement the starfish hazardous environment system. In atmosphere, under the water, or even in the depths of space, our unique starfish gravitic propulsion drive will ensure you have the freedom of movement to complete your tasks.”

Specter extended his palms to gently indicate the projections on either side of the jetpack. I focused on the one to his right, and it immediately centered itself, before inflating in size.

It was a pair of oversized gloves, with sharp, raised edges running along the tips of the knuckles. The gloves reached up to the elbow, and had long, thin metallic tendrils waving lightly at the openings.

“These atomic dismantlers will greatly increase your controlled demolitions capabilities. In order to cause enough atomic energy to be released from demolition activities to power your suit indefinitely, each dismantler glove casts a focused atomic pulse wave, destabilizing critical atomic structure with nanoscale targeting. These pulse waves are an accelerated form of the reactor’s primary charge function and will return great dividends when used to recharge a starfish extreme environment system. This ensures continued demolition for as long as may be required, in any environment, with minimal risk to the user. As an increased safety measure, each glove can be activated from a base charge-from a base charge of zero. If called upon, the atomic dismantlers will deploy from dimensional storage gateways embedded in the user with a single pulse wave ready to recharge the suit from either glove.”

Specter was again barely stammering, and I began to suspect the program was somehow healing itself.

I nodded again, and the final option spun into place. It was a series of armored plates, all hovering around a starfish shaped core. This time the starfish itself was a tiny ball, and a focal point for all the various tendrils holding onto the plating. It had primarily long, thin, metallic whip arms.

“Increasing your armor system will allow for ever more extreme environments. This upgrade will install plating that can be extended or retracted at impulse, to cover the entire body and prevent any harm or damage from befalling the user of the primary starfish suit. As will all starfish industrial operations, our impervium plating process provides a hardy, stable suit that will not fail to protect its user in all but the most unlikely scenarios.”

I scowled. My suit felt incomplete, now that I had seen what was available. The impression I got was strange, it felt like what I had on me now was meant to be a repair and basic function basis for the suit, which would then be filled in with these remaining options.

It felt like all three together would make the suit complete, but Specter quickly derailed my train of thought by speaking again.

“Each starfish extreme environment suit is designed with custom function in mind. As a new user, one should always be aware that suit upgrades have paths, and paths cannot be diverted from once joined. Each suit will be complete at the end of our custom upgrade process but depending on your first upgrade-on your first upgrade, each suit will perform very differently-very differently. Choose your path wisely, and in accordance with the needs your starfish suit is being assembled to address.”

Specter froze as soon as he had finished speaking, as did the floating holographic items in front of me.

The red light came back, and Specter changed forms again. He was no longer chipper and leaned heavily across the counter. The bandage on his hand was seeping.

“I forgot to add this into the modification system, so it should tag onto the end of your presentation.”

He coughed heavily and turned aside to spit out a bloody wad of phlegm that vanished as soon as it got far enough away from him.

“I modified each of the starfish systems to provide synergistic benefits no matter which path you start on. Choose the thing that’s most important to you now.”

He stopped and hauled himself up heavily to look at the camera, pale and gaunt. Then he leaned in close to my ear. “Just pick what keeps you alive,” he whispered.

Then he blinked back to the patient salesman and waited for me to make my choice. I could swipe between each system and did so to pull up the armor plating again.

I have to admit, I was beyond tempted to get that extra plating. Each section of plating was beautiful and thin, the metal projecting a dull sheen that exuded strength.

I couldn’t though. Not yet. It wasn’t the armor keeping me alive, though I certainly would have liked to have more of it.

Even the Lobtis, which cut through me so fast I wasn’t able to see or feel it, couldn’t make a scratch on the starfish plating.

I’d just take the image of what could be and use that to imagine being covered head to toe in it. Made for a shiny and heroic image, but it didn’t end up with me staying alive. I sighed as I realized which path I needed to take.

Breaking stuff was what had kept me alive to date, and I needed the ability to break more stuff, if my experience in the Sleem den was anything to judge it by.

Being able to fly would be cool, but it honestly got me revved up just knowing that it was in my future if I managed to survive long enough.

I pulled up the atomic dismantler gloves and selected them. Specter smiled wide and clapped his hands together.

“Now, let’s see to your other purchase.”

A shelf in the background lit up for the first time, and I could see three tiny objects, each in large clear packaging. They looked like colored rectangles of paper or cloth.

Specter turned on his heel and pointed at them, and a holographic projection grew in front of me again. Each of the three objects was indeed a small rectangle of thin cloth. They were each different colors as well, with a red, orange, and blue rectangle present in the holographic display.

“The Perk-Patch, Teslak Cooperatives answer to the Stat-Shot, is a superior product in every way. Perk-Patch comes in any of the six varieties you see before you and represents your best opportunity to increase your own capability with nothing more than a good night’s sleep.”

Specter rotated slightly as he spoke, turning to show each of the small, colored strips. Before he finished speaking, he turned to show empty space three additional times.

“Thanks to the galaxy-defining quality of our smiths, Teslak is able to offer permanent ability boosts without the invasive and expensive procedure of nanite installation and upkeep. Non-sapient, nanoscopic crystalline life-forms will inhabit your body and build contained colonies that improve general health, mental well-being, raw physical strength, reflex based movement and response, intellectual capability, and pheromonal restructuring.”

The holographic image in front of me expanded and zoomed deep into the red patch. Once the camera got to a small enough scale, I could see millions of tiny little life-forms crawling around on the patch.

They looked like skin mites formed of incredibly fine crystal structures. Energy swirled internally on each of them, and the larger the concentration of them on the patch, the brighter they glowed.

Then it all blinked out and the affiliate went dark again. Red light moved slowly across the ceiling as I waited for Specter to return.

As expected, the projector hummed back to life and the customer service version of Specter was back.

“Are you ready to make your purchase?”

I shook my head and the projector clicked. It switched to the injured version of Specter, who was leaning heavily against the counter again.

“Stat-shots were a good idea. I made it better with the patches, but even then my hands were tied. All they wanted was a matching product, to compete.”

Specter shook his head, and a droplet of blood seeped from his hairline to spatter on the counter. He casually wiped it away and moved his hair enough for me to confirm a higher-than-average ear line.

“Even before it all collapsed, I knew.”

He looked up.

“It was never about competition. Don’t compete when you can destroy. They don’t compete. BuyMort won’t hesitate. You can’t either, if you’re going to survive and do my work for me, whoever you are.”

A different version of the camera zoom occurred on the red patch, and this time the mites looked different. The energy swirling in their crystalline bodies was deeper in color, and their legs were significantly longer.

Each mite moved easier, and I saw several of them stepping around and past one another, instead of mindlessly crawling over the top of each other.

“This is what the patch-forms were always meant to be. This will produce a true symbiosis and allows for proper blending of the branches. These life-forms are far more potent than the watered-down variety my other self is likely still trying to sell.”

He paused and adjusted the bandage on his hand.

“There is a downside to this. The regular patches create colonies that spread out in their designated areas. So, a strength patch would populate a muscular system with crystalline life forms, but my power blow patch will populate primarily in the lower forearms. This creates a slower build of strength for the user, but creates the power blow effect, which is lost entirely on a basic strength patch colony. Such a shame, the effect is the core of what this species is to the universe. Each of them, really. All I’ve done is to undo the neuter Teslak forced on these creatures.”

When he finished, he moved into a lean on the counter.

The projector hummed in the background, and Specter leaned while staring at me. While I waited for him to continue, I noticed that the hologram began playing over. His image twitched and was in position again in under a second.

“Tell me more about the patches,” I asked.

The hologram came to life again, with a flicker of the projector. The blue patch rose in front of me.

“Aimed shot. It provides a significant boost to standing hand-eye coordination, as well as increasing your general reflexive and dexterous state.”

Specter spun the holographic patch, making it sparkle in the light.

“This one lives in your brain, and along your nerves. It will increase your cognitive function slowly, over time, and with more patches. Tap into their active ability by focusing, hard. Once they’re active, whatever ranged weapon you’re using will hit at most any range, barring external interference.”

He moved a hand and the red patch swirled forward.

“Power blow. These life forms will accumulate in the limbs, in concentrated colonies. These colonies are capable of storing kinetic energy from normal movement and releasing it in direct confluence with any of your melee strikes or limb movements. With more patches and time, these colonies will expand through the muscular system, dramatically increasing user strength and durability.”

The final patch came forward, and he gently raised his palm to indicate it.

“Stone skin. These colonies reproduce quickly and grow to populate a host’s epidermis, as well as other major organ systems. Once the colony is in place, the host will enjoy a significant increase in skin health, as well as pliability, and general strength. With more applications, or mixture with other types of crystalline life, general health and life span will increase as well. Upon activation, they expend stored energy to harden the epidermis against any attack temporarily.”

I nodded and pointed to the red patch.

“Power blow.”

It matched my new gloves, and while the others had their appeal, I wanted to focus on my ability to destroy anything that came at me.

Plus, the suit made whatever areas it directly covered impervious to damage. Even when a limb had been lopped off, whatever part of it was still attached to the suit had remained.

This patch would be directly protected by my new gauntlets until the colonies could spread to the rest of my muscle tissue.

The lightning beetle, Lobtis, and Dearth Conglomerate hover-tank were prevalent in my mind as I made the decision. Armored opponents were a regular problem for me.

I now had a small but pleasant fantasy of becoming a tank-punching asshole, instead of just a window-punching one like Mr. Sada liked to call me.

Dude came up with the weirdest names.

With a small popping sound, the projector switched Specters again and the clean version of him happily rang me up and took the morties from my account. It cost exactly what I had in my account from the coupons, again.

Once the transaction was completed, the projector hummed quietly to a stop as it deactivated, and the ruined affiliate was empty again.

Chapter 29

As I was being drawn out of it back to my own mind, I heard Axle talking to the hobb in the living room.

They were speaking in the hobbs language, which was frighteningly gruff. It sounded a bit like angry gorillas in the lead up to a fight, but when I looked around the corner, they were both seated calmly, with Zach glaring at them both from across the living room.

The conversation looked friendly, even.

I waited in the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt, and quietly added a universal translator to my wish list.

It would spawn unreasonable ads aplenty, but every so often something better would come around and make the effort worthwhile. If nothing else, it would remind me that I needed one.

I had been thinking about the situation with the ravens and realized that if I had simply had a way to communicate with them earlier, our little ‘misunderstanding’ may have never happened at all.

I also really wanted to hear Doofus talk, and since he didn’t seem to have any interest in buying his own translator, maybe I could find one that worked to at least let me know what he was saying when he barked.

My desire to not be annoyed by ads was refreshed as one popped up to annoy me.

Need help translating? Not a problem. On-Site Linguistic Solutions at your Behest, speakers of every tongue available on site at reasonable shifts. Comes with domiciles and workspace.

On-Site Linguistic Solutions. The best services for the best customers.

The translator it offered was bundled with a small building and cost more morties than my recent purchases from the hidden Teslak Cooperative.

While I waited for Axle, my packages came. A pod arrived at the sliding glass doors with a quiet bonk, and I quickly moved to let it in. The first box was tiny, and the pod deposited it on the counter. It was only the size of a handheld cigarette lighter.

The next box it deposited was significantly larger and went on the kitchen floor beside the counter. My camp knife was open before the pod had even made it outside, but before I could slit either box open, I was distracted by a familiar tearing sound coming from the sky.

Drusk’s shuttle was returning.

As soon as the house began to shake, I walked to the screen door and peered up. The shuttle was angling in for another landing over the pool.

“NO SHAKE!” Cube suddenly screamed from the kitchen counter.

I reflexively grabbed the box off the tile and held it out in front of me. The little Cube inside clicked its metal lips in satisfaction and went back to its silent resting state.

With a sigh, I slid the door open and started outside.

“NO SHAKE! NO SHAKE!”

It started screaming the phrase repeatedly until I got the sliding glass door shut again. I did notice that the entire glass frame wobbled and jiggled as the shuttle landed over the pool, as did the ground.

Guess I was enough of a shock absorber for Cube because the little bastard stayed content as long as I held it.

The sun was still up, but just starting to color the horizon with our sunset for the day. As the colored light cascaded into Mr. Sada’s kitchen, Drusk’s shuttle settled into its final parking position.

Once the craft was down and everything stopped vibrating, I set Cube back on the counter and walked out to greet the medical staff.

Drusk was unconscious and being pushed on the hover-sled stretcher. It was the same team as before, and as the mordren and her human allies took Drusk to the shed to get him unloaded, the Nah’gh approached me with his clipboard device again.

This time all he needed was my signature that the patient had been delivered. There was no system of law outside of BuyMort, so my signature released the funding I had approved for the surgery to their department.

Minus BuyMort’s minor fee, of course. The morties had gone into escrow with BuyMort during the surgery, so there was another small fee for that holding period as well.

After it was done, and all the fees were paid, by my personal account again, I went to go see Drusk. He was unconscious, but the female mordren that had accompanied him was still in the shed.

“This is where you’re keeping him?” She snapped as soon as I came into sight.

The shed was mostly empty, since we had pulled all the tents and air mattresses out, but there was still a cluster of old bikes in one corner, and Drusk was laying on a series of flattened cardboard boxes over the concrete.

“Uh, yeah for the moment. Sorry, I know, it’s not ideal.” I tried to meet her gaze, but her tail kept whipping around in the background and distracting me.

“I did build him a place to live and work though, today. Well, I had it built.”

I looked down at Drusk. His arm was wrapped in cloth, and I could see black gel beneath it, moving. His other arm ended in a stump, with a similar bandage and gel.

The bandaging on his snout had been changed, I noticed, and he wore a new white gauze and string eyepatch.

“Will he be able to walk anytime soon?” I tried to meet her gaze, but the intensity of it made me glad for the helmet. She hated me, it was clear in her eyes.

“Yes, shortly after his anesthetic wears off he should be fully ambulatory.”

She paused and looked down at her patient, sleeping peacefully and covered in bandages.

“You don’t work him until at least sixteen hours of rest. Twenty-two hours if he’s performing any lifting overhead.”

I nodded. “He won’t be working until he’s ready, don’t worry. I just had his area built and equipped with basic furnishings, so he has a place to go that’s better than this.”

Her expression softened somewhat, which I was grateful for. She was intimidating when she scowled, it was like a smaller than average kaiju looking pissed off.

It didn’t help that she stared at me from a significant height advantage, which afforded me an excellent view of her teeth as she spoke.

“Very well. Can I trust you with his medication?” she asked.

“Yes. I paid for and organized this surgery, as well as his new living area. I’m not going to sell his meds out from underneath him.”

Her gaze hardened again. “Are you not also the one who did this to him?”

My helmet bobbed as I nodded. “He attacked us. Hurt my friends. While I regret not stopping earlier than I did, I do not regret putting him down for that.”

The mordren doctor stared at me for a long moment, before eventually reaching to the pocket on her scrubs and producing a bottle of rattling pills from a small pouch.

“As needed, for pain, and to reduce the phantom limb experience.”

She gestured to an oversized hook, with a wire attachment to the wearable portion that would activate a simple grab motion with the secondary arm. It was a basic, but functional prosthetic.

“As requested, his hook.”

I nodded and she narrowed her eyes.

“I do hope to see him back, and soon, for something more appropriate. Drusk himself requested this model, but I suspect it was at your behest and I do not approve of this situation.”

My sigh was loud enough that the helmet transmitted it, and her eyes widened in shock. Before she could start yelling at me, which she very clearly wanted to do, I raised my hands.

“Stop. It was his choice to attack us, and when you attack someone, you assume the risk of getting hurt or killed because of that attack. Violence is funny like that, it has this way of blowing back on those who use it, even in this screwed up system.”

I reached up and unfastened my helmet as I spoke.

When I removed it, the mordren doctor’s eyes flicked over my face.

“I’m not interested in hurting Drusk, doc, and I never have been. I’m doing everything I reasonably can to make things better for him, without much personal benefit from it, so back off please.”

I kept my tone level, but firm, and when I finished, her eyes widened as she took a deep breath.

“Understood.”

The doctor stepped back and walked around Drusk’s prostrate form. She knelt and lifted one of his bandages a fraction, to look at the gel activity beneath.

“I would like to follow up on his recovery, tomorrow. Will you allow me access to your affiliate for that purpose?”

When she looked up at me for an answer, I narrowed my eyes. “You work for Dearth. Can I trust you?”

“I do not work for the Dearth Conglomerate. I work for a small, specialist affiliate that contracts with Dearth regularly. I was called in to perform this surgery, as well as his scans, because of my expertise in mordren anatomy.”

“Then you’re welcome anytime you want, Doc,” I said with a shrug.

“My name is Doctor Trullo Firesinger.”

She stood and met my gaze again, before ducking to leave the shed.

I turned and followed her out to where Axle was waiting for us. He held the box with Cube inside, and as I approached, I put my helmet back on and took the box from him.

“Our new spider rancher, I presume?” he asked.

“Yeah, once he’s recovered. The spiders don’t really need any help right now anyway.” I shrugged, checking in on Cube. It looked comfortable, for a small metal box sitting anyway.

“Once he’s recovered.” Dr. Firesinger pointed at first Axle, and then me. I nodded immediately.

Axle looked between the two of us and nodded. “Of course. I merely plan ahead.”

Dr. Firesinger produced a thin metal card emblazoned with her information and a picture. The picture and name combined would allow anyone in possession of the card to contact her via MortMobile.

“Please contact me if he needs anything.”

She clasped her clawed hands in front of her chest and looked back at Drusk’s outline in the shed.

“I hate to leave him like this.”

Axle stepped forward and placed a paw gently on her forearm.

“I did not see what happened earlier, but this is being made into a good place, for good people. The hobb tribe here chose to stay after a single rotation, and many families have come to live here now.”

I grimaced and turned away. They walked to the shuttle, and I went back in the kitchen to apply my new upgrades.

After setting Cube down again, I took my camp knife out and used it to open the smaller box. Inside, nestled in a thin wall of foam lining, was my Power Blow upgrade patch.

It had a small tag sticking up that said, ‘handle here,’ so I pinched it and lifted the package from its lining. Once it came clear, I saw another tag with another ‘handle here.’

I grabbed that with my other hand and a holographic message sprang to life over the patch.

“Pull apart,” it said, so I did.

The patch slid into two separate patches, and the holographic message changed to, “apply to extremities.”

I pressed one to each forearm and waited, leaning against the counter.

My skin began to tickle almost at once, and the sensation quickly escalated. The crystalline creatures activated and burrowed into my skin, and the tickle increased in severity again. I clutched the counter and tried to resist scratching my skin as the patches took effect.

Just as I was about to give up and scratch, the itching became a paralyzing fire in my forearms. They suddenly grew heavy, and I stepped around the counter to get help from Ordo, a small groan escaping my lips.

Ordo looked up as he saw me and stood. As he moved past me to help, Zach suddenly surged forward out of his seat on one leg and slammed bodily into the hobb.

The two of them went down as my forearms burned in agony. I couldn’t even take a breath to scream.

In an instant, it stopped. The heat, the itching, both vanished and the feeling that remained, I could only describe as capability.

I clenched my hand as Zach lifted and dropped an elbow on Ordo. The hobb struggled and got a fist into Zach’s face, and then I was there.

I lifted Zach by the back of his shirt and tossed him back onto the couch. His face twisted into a snarl of rage, and he lunged forward again. My hand formed into a fist, and I slammed it into his gut as he rose, while forcefully thinking the phrase ‘power blow.’

Something in my forearm clenched, immediately before my fist made contact.

Zach’s body lifted from the ground and slammed backward into the couch again. His eyes were crossed before his broken ankle hit the end-table, but the impact and sudden jolt of pain knocked him senseless. He drooled and lolled his head, gasping for breath.

I moved to help Ordo up, offering him a hand. He took it, and I could see the surprise on his face as I easily lifted him. These patches were working nicely already.

“All good?” I asked the hobb.

He grunted and nodded. “You okay?”

I nodded and lifted both arms to show him the patches. “Upgrade. Was a little harsh when taking effect.”

The hobb narrowed his eyes but nodded. He produced a strip of material from a pocket and bent to tie Zach’s legs together at the knees.

“Won’t happen again, boss, my sorry.”

I shook my head.

“I blame myself, Ordo. I distracted you from your work and he took advantage of that distraction.”

When the hobb looked up at me in confusion, I shook my head again. “Don’t worry about it. I think you’re doing a good job.”

I looked at my forearms, feeling the power coursing through them. “And you know what? I think, maybe, I’m starting to do a good job as well.”

Chapter 30

My trip back to the kitchen was short, but it felt like it took forever as I ruminated on how these people must be used to being treated. My position of authority over them seemed normal and absolute to them, but any sign of kindness or taking responsibility seemed to create severe bewilderment and confusion in everyone except Axle.

I shrugged as I approached my remaining cardboard box and flicked my knife out. They’d get used to it, or I would. Once the flesh-tape was all separated and discarded out the sliding glass door, I pulled apart the box's lid and got my first look at the atomic dismantler gauntlets inside.

The shuttle outside started up its engines again and I snatched Cube’s box off the counter before it could start screaming for me to hold it. Then I peered down into the box on the floor.

They were beautiful. Blued steel in color, the gauntlets looked heavy. The armor encased the entire fist, in overlapping plates. The gauntlets were on a small stand and were facing down into the box, so I got a good look at the starfish structure inside one.

On the inside wall of each gauntlet, a series of thin, whip-like arms rose and waved around in the air. They appeared to be searching for something, and on an impulse I reached down with one hand to touch them.

“BOTH HANDS!” Cube immediately shrieked.

I gritted my teeth and held the little creature’s cardboard box until the shuttle had gotten far enough away for me to set the noisy little bastard back on the counter. It smacked its lips and went back to sleep, as far as I could tell.

I reached back into the box as Axle approached the glass doors. With a small exertion, I lifted the first gauntlet from its stand in the box and hefted it. Axle’s eyes widened as he entered, and the tendrils extending from the glove increased their movement.

“I must admit, I have not seen or heard of a device quite like yours before,” he said, big furry arms crossed in thought. “I would very much appreciate the chance to study it.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” I grunted. It was awkward trying to avoid the waving tendrils. It felt almost like they were looking for something and taking the gauntlet out of the box made it worse.

I held the gauntlet up and looked at the fingers quickly. It was the right, so I held it up with my left and carefully extended my hand toward it. As the seeking tendrils made contact with my fingertips, their movement became more intentional. They began reaching and stretching across my fingertips and knuckles, seeming to seek something.

As soon as the first tendril from the gauntlets touched metal from my own starfish suit, it reacted. The plating on my own hand opened and accepted the tendril, and instantly the rest of them knew where to go. The dismantler gauntlet hauled itself forward, engulfing my hand entirely.

It slid over my knuckles and the fingers were gently guided into each awaiting channel. Axle watched all of this with fascination and then looked up at me.

“Is there any pain?” He asked.

I shook my head and lifted the gauntlet. “No, but I have this built-in painkiller system anyway.”

It suddenly activated, and the painkiller rushed through me. I blinked, my pupils wildly dilated and my eyes quite dopey.

“Which just hit me with a dose. Fuckin’ strange man,” I moaned, lengthening the syllables before collapsing to my knees in pain, clutching at my right arm.

Something was sawing at me, inside the gauntlet. I could feel rotating blades cutting away at my skin, muscle tissue, and bones. Then came heat, in solid lines.

I wasn’t just being chopped up and brutalized by some horrific BuyMort-bought commodity. Something was being welded into my body!

The pain was so sharp that I could do nothing but gasp for breath.

It cut, sawed, and burned itself onto the back of my hand, wrist, and fore-arm, while I clutched at the counter with my good arm. I shuddered and my eyes watered, streaming my hurt over my face and lips.

The painkiller did little more than keep me from passing out.

Axle watched, carefully. He stepped closer when I collapsed against the counter, but he didn’t intervene. He simply watched, in obvious concern.

The pain suddenly stopped. I took a deep breath and blinked away a few preformed tears.

“Wow, that was nasty,” I said, staring at the new gauntlet covering my arm.

I wondered if it was permanent. The entire structure of plating retracted and vanished into tiny, lifted sections of metal jutting from my arm and hand in response.

I stared.

The metallic sections on my forearm all looked like extremely miniaturized hangar bays and were filled with rainbow light.

Once the gauntlets were gone, the bays all sunk under the skin, and all that was left was a thin strip of metal running down the topside of my arm. I focused on wanting my gauntlet back, and the strip of metal rose again.

The entire process happened in reverse.

Metal plating protruded from the embedded bays in a sparkle of rainbow light, and within a second my fist was covered in the heavy gauntlet again.

I looked up at Axle and grinned. He didn’t see it through the helmet, but he smiled, nonetheless. “Dimensional gateways, embedded directly into the body. This is incredible, what is that material made from?”

“You ask as if I know,” I laughed. “I ordered something to help me survive a BuyMort bug attack, and this is what came.”

My decision to keep the nature of this affiliate’s primary mission to destroy the BuyMort system from Axle wasn’t exactly conscious. I just knew I was different to what he expected, and I wanted to figure out more of the mission before I trusted anyone else with it.

Survival still outweighed anything else I wanted to do anyway.

Axle nodded though, still peering at my gauntlet. He looked up at my helmet. “May I record you applying the next one?”

With a silent groan, I nodded and looked at the other gauntlet in the box. It had tendrils still seeking, slowly writhing in the air above the hole my hand would go in. I looked up at Axle, and he hurriedly dug a device that was clearly a camera out of his pack.

It had a square body and telescoping lens, the assumption seemed safe.

He pointed it at me, and then pressed and held a button on the top of it. A small red light on the top lit up and the Knowle nodded at me. “Ready when you are.”

I lifted the gauntlet from its box, turning it in the air so Axle could get a good view of all its sides. After a deep breath, I slid my remaining hand into the gauntlet.

The process repeated, with my left arm being sawed into as I received another dose of the painkiller. I held the gauntlet up so Axle could more easily see it this time, and he made sure to get every angle he could while the device attached itself to me.

Once it was over, I nodded and stood up straight, before willing the gauntlet away. The tiny bay doors lifted, and each sheet of metal retracted inside until there was nothing but a thin metal line on either arm, extending from the elbow down to the tips of each finger.

It reduced the overall presence of the starfish suit from my elbows down, but the rest of it was in place as normal.

Flexing my hands just right would bring out the gauntlets, as would thinking about them hard enough. Once I had performed the trick a few times for Axle’s camera, he seemed satisfied and put it away.

“You must tell me more about the affiliate you purchased that wonderfully bizarre item from,” the Knowle said.

I opened my mouth but closed it again before saying anything. Looking up at him, I nodded. “Yeah, some time. Right now, I’d really like to see the new facilities.”

His claws snapped and his eyes went wide. “Of course! Everything should be finished building by now, Jada was overseeing the last of it when I left. We should go now, while there’s still daylight.”

He walked to the garage door, passing by the still dazed prisoner on the couch, and I followed. The golf cart ride back to the campground was nice, with a beautiful sunset forming to the west. It tossed rich, orange colors across the entire campground and cast everything in a beautiful light. The first thing I saw was my own house, which was the only word I could think of for it.

Axle merely drove me into the space and then back out, but it was enough. I was beaming, a house of my own. Being a homeowner before BuyMort had been a pipedream.

Pure fantasy.

My new house wasn’t terribly pretty, but it looked great to me.

A simple bungalow style rectangle of mud-crete had been poured on one side of the campsite. It was longer than it was wide and had a small second story that appeared to open out onto the roof for a make-shift terrace. Doors and windows were already installed, and I turned in my seat to stare at the upstairs balcony as we left the site.

Once we got past Phyllis’ area, the residential block was up next. Several sturdy looking mud-crete huts were in place, one per site. There were humans milling around several, and hobbs working on several others already.

“I like this design a lot,” Axle explained as we slowly cruised from the backside of the lot. “It allows us to build larger structures around the initial hut.”

The Knowle pointed at one. “We can build up on the huts for the next level of housing easily, and then once we need to build apartment buildings or the like, their walls can be filled in with mud-crete, rebar, even steel girders. Depending on the size of building you end up needing, these designs provide a very stable foundation.”

Each hut was furnished with a simple wooden door, and three windows. The bathroom was in the center of the hut, and each of the other three larger rooms were built around it. Each bathroom had a simple cast mud-crete shower bath with plumbing installed, but none of them had showerheads.

Simplicity had been king during construction, and the pipes for water and power were visibly jutting from the backs of each hut, to vanish into the ground nearby.

Jada waved as we cruised through slowly, walking toward us. She nuzzled Axle as she got in the backseat of the golf cart, and we continued our tour.

We approached the parking lot, which was crammed with items and people. I leaned out of the golfcart to get a better look, but all I could see was an impromptu flea market with no vendors.

“Ahh, good, it arrived,” Axle muttered. “I had them drop these items off near our new storage barn, to make it easier to put away whatever remains.”

A new mud-crete rounded barn was in place at the front of the parking lot, near what little remained of the ruined office. A smaller shed structure was built beside it, and together they consumed roughly a third of the parking lot.

The shipment of furnishings we had purchased was piled in the parking lot, in different sections. Apparently, the pod that delivered them had burnt their section names directly into the blacktop of the parking lot.

A series of small refrigerators, coolers, and catering racks were in a partition labeled “cold food storage.” An area named “meal prep” was filled with small propane BBQs, counter-top sandwich grillers, hot plates, rotisseries, and other various kitchen utensils and appliances.

“Living spaces” was the biggest by far, and it was full of an eclectic assortment of couches, loveseats, beds, and lounge chairs. There were curtains, sheets, blankets, and the worlds least uniform collection of pillows.

“Toiletries” had been popular and was already mostly picked over by the time we arrived. I jumped out and grabbed a pack of toothbrushes and a new razor for myself, tucking them into the small cargo compartment at the front of the golf cart.

People of all kinds from the campground picked through the mess, taking items, and discussing the options. I saw one older gentleman use a handkerchief to wipe blood from a vinyl covered couch before showing the furniture to his wife. We needed these items, and it wasn’t like I could do anything about how they were acquired, but it still felt bad.

The next stop on our tour was the spider ranch, which had changed dramatically. I could see the walls from the residential district, but once we got there, I was properly impressed. Axle got out and opened a double wide metal gate for us, before driving the golf cart directly in. Everything was different.

The entire area was encased in fourteen-foot mud-crete walls, which Axle explained were larger than average to ensure our mordren spider rancher would have privacy. The building he’d had built hunkered on the close side of the compound, and the road led directly from the gate to an oversized barn door.

The building was like a barn with a large apartment attached to the side of it. A tall, rectangular building with several windows was connected to an oversized, round-roofed storage warehouse, similar to the unit in the parking lot.

A small pond had been dug, directly in the center of the spider trees. It was empty, but Axle assured me that once we filled it with water, plenty of insects would come to feed our spiders. His crew had also reinforced the walkway through the trees, turning it into a drivable path, but I declined a tour.

I had no idea how the gobbs worked in such close proximity to the spiders without any incidents, but Jada reported that it was an easy job, and none of the hobbs had complained about their gobbs.

As we left the spider ranch area, Jada herself explained the new additions to the primary compound wall she’d had made. Each corner of the wall now contained a guard shack built into the corner.

A small building had been built into each for storing arms, armor, and ammunition. Each guard shack was secured with a thick metal door and featured a new staircase that could only be accessed from the inside of the shack.

Jada explained that this proved helpful to secure military portions of the compound from civilian interference and injury as we drove. She also pointed out the new portions of wall she’d had installed.

All along the top of the wall had been a wide walkway. Jada had overseen the addition of an additional chest high wall atop that, much thinner, and facing out. This ensured our hobbs could patrol the entire wall without threat of being shot from outside.

She also assured me the defenses were thicker around the gates as well, but we were heading in the opposite direction, and it was getting darker.

Finally, we reached the well as the last stop on our journey; the new well. It was larger than I had been expecting. A foundation of mud-crete was in place around a large metal vat that had been sunk into the ground. One small door on the nearest side allowed access to the vat, and on the inside was an area for gathering water, with a hose that would fill any container, and a series of controls for the water storage area.

Axle and Jada talked with me a bit about potential upgrades to the system, and I noticed that pipes were already snaking from the back of the vat to various points across the compound.

When I asked about them, Axle explained that the residential block already had water connected, and that my new home and the spider ranch were expected to have them hooked up either later that night, or the next morning.

“Speaking of,” Axle said as we wrapped up our tour. “We should go get that power station installed. It should be simple, and I can get us all powered up and running tomorrow. We just have to pick a place to store Cube.”

I thought it over but ended up sighing and shaking my head. “Cube better stay with me.”

The little metal box with a mouth had been riding along with us the entire time, content in my lap. I had no interest in leaving that strange little block with anyone else, it felt wrong just thinking about it.

There was a connection growing between me and the odd little being, and I needed to be around to answer its demands.

Chapter 31

By the time we made it back to my new place, the sun had gone down more fully, and everything nearby was cast in the purple pall of pre-dark. I was happy to run in my new place, but once I arrived inside, it was depressingly empty.

I had a main door, a side door that opened facing the road, and another on the second floor that opened onto the roof of the first. I also had some windows, with glass already installed.

But aside from that, the entire place was nothing but an empty bungalow. The stairs to what I had already begun thinking of as my bedroom were spiral, which saved a tremendous amount of space in the downstairs area. Downstairs was cut into two large, open rooms, with another wooden door to separate them.

Upstairs was similar, but my second room was much smaller, and housed my new toilet and mud-crete shower bath. It didn’t have water connected yet but looking at the area made me realize something important. I would need to buy and install a water heater. Probably for every residence in the camp.

Nobody liked cold showers.

Once I had finished my tour, I worked with Axle to determine a good place for Cube. We decided to install him near the road-side doorway, as the primary bulk of the electrical cabling for my place was there.

After a few more minutes and more morties spent from my personal account, a BuyMort pod delivered my first piece of furniture. Cube’s throne.

The device was an oversized, circular metal plate, on top of three tripod legs with a thick cable extending from the bottom. Axle got it hooked up to my place easily, with just the tools he kept in his bag. Then he tested it by setting Cube down on the metal plate. There was nothing to turn on in order to test it, but Axle used a device that looked a lot like a voltameter to declare that it was functioning.

After, we lifted Cube off the plate and confirmed that power was no longer functional. Once power was hooked up to the entire compound, I would have the responsibility of keeping Cube happy and secure.

The work of the day complete, the sky orange and purple in the coming of night, Axle and Jada came with me to Phyllis’s porch. It’d been too long since I’d been, and she never minded extra company.

So long as they weren’t dicks.

I introduced everyone, and Phyllis immediately offered the giant alien hyena people a lit joint. When she got to me, I waved her off.

I had a load more work to do before I could even think about relaxing. It’d been half a week and I’d done more in those last few days than I’d done in the previous several years.

The Knowles were no stranger to such substances, and each took a turn on the lit joint. Axle nodded his appreciation while Jada merely sighed in satisfaction and gazed out at the stars.

After a few moments of smoke-filled silence, Axle turned to me and spoke up. “So, Tyson, I feel like this is a good time to get into credit levels. I’m surprised your priest hasn’t counseled you on it yet.”

I thought about all my interactions with Molls. How complicated they were despite the placid surface everyone around me almost certainly saw, and I was glad I hadn’t.

There would have been more holy talk and sexual tension. My favorite mix.

“I guess it never came up,” I answered. A plume of smoke spluttered from Phyllis’s helm, but whatever she was thinking, she held her tongue.

Axle and Jada shared a look, and I felt my face get hot.

“No. Nope,” I stated. “Ignore her, she just likes making trouble. We are talking about credit levels. I’m a level 30. What’s that mean and what can I do about it?”

Phyllis started cackling in her mech and Jada tried to cover her lupine face with a hand to hide the giant hyena’s smirk. But Axle cough in a closed fist and gave me a straight face.

“Yeah. Right. Credit Levels. Sometimes we call it your credit score. You bottom at 0 and you max at 100. They have little titles attached to them by BuyMort, but that doesn’t mean too much.”

He tapped his forefinger to his temple.

“What matters is what those numbers mean. They are a level of trust, an aspect of the BuyMort algorithm that determines how much debt you are able to take on while still remaining profitable.”

Fuck. I’d been afraid of this. In old pre-BuyMort times I’d failed so many credit checks when I was trying to find somewhere to live. Same shit, different package. But . . .

“I’m a goddamn millionaire. In a really short time too, man. Why the hell am I a level 30 poor shopper?”

Axle turned to Jada and Jada shrugged. He looked back over at me. “How many times have you applied to have your credit rating raised?”

I felt my face fall. There was always something. Paperwork, fees . . . bullshit.

“How much will that cost?” I asked.

Axle nodded, his eyes shining. “There you go. You get it. Yep, there’s a fee. Your credit level times a thousand morties, usually. Not a lot. Plus, it goes up for affiliates if you’re checking the old company account. Times ten thousand over affiliate level 10, and times a hundred thousand over affiliate level 50.”

He twirled his finger in the air. “Also, the algorithm will adjust fees if a lot of people are checking their credit at once. But that’s usually first month stuff. I’d guess Nu-Earth here is running at level times two-and-a-half or three right now, right hun?”

Jada’s face went lax for a moment. “Dead on, honey bear.”

“Right. So, 75,000 morties. Nothing big for you. The failure to apply is more likely the reason for the poor shopper label, as opposed to the actual expense and financial impact on the affiliate.”

I leaned forward, waving smoke out of my face. “So, what’s that do? Like, what’s the point? I can take bigger loans?”

“Sorry about him, dearies. He gets a little dense about this sort of stuff,” Phyllis said.

I frowned and she cough-laughed, her own smoke powdering out in front of her in a cloud.

“Dear, he’s saying it’s just like the old days. Big credit means more buying options. Not just bigger loans, but better interest rates. More people willing to lend.”

I thought back to the stories. The big black bank card. The one with unlimited purchasing power, low interest, accepted everywhere. It always sounded cool but at the same time it felt like a trap. I’d spend up my morties then make so much debt that I’d lose everything.

“Sounds horrible. Is there anything that it gives me that doesn’t deal with morties —”

“Prestige,” Axle interrupted. “Diplomatic power. You might not have noticed, Tyson, but you are building up not just a business, but also a nation, of sorts. I mean look around you and tell me that this is another day at the office,” he said, grinning and waving his arms airily to indicate the whole campground.

“People you face up with in the field won’t just run services to estimate your net worth. They’ll check your credit level as well. It is the composite of your ability to make morties and gain assets. A rating that tells people how savvy and powerful you are as an individual.”

I didn’t like that. I thought of the various after-armageddon movies and stories where society inevitably trekked backward to a feudal society.

Lords and ladies. Fiefdoms. Dances, banquets, balls. Everyone sizing up each other’s dowries and estates.

I didn’t give one fuck about what someone else’s rating might be, and they shouldn’t have cared about mine.

A person’s worth was not supposed to be tied so intrinsically to their spending power. If that was the primary thing about them that mattered, something was deeply wrong with the assessment process.

I was just about to say so when Axle said something that shut me up hard.

“Dearth Conglomerate won’t deal with anyone fairly unless their CEO demonstrates a level 50 or higher. As an example. They’ll treat anyone lower as prey.”

Phyllis cackled. “He got you there, Tyson. And no, don’t you glare at me. We all know what you were thinking. A poker pro you are not.”

I grabbed the joint passing around, took a pull and sighed. “Right. Yeah. Okay. What’ll happen if I run the check right now?”

Jada cut in this time, her eyes shining. “Your short-term successes would qualify you for a ten-level rise, the maximum on a single check, if it weren’t for the logged stupidity of your Associate’s Spider City tree sales.”

Jada tsked and Axle nodded.

“But the Sleem Farm was considered a hard Smart-Shopper move by the algorithm. I’m seeing ticks here for affiliations and associations, a couple of minor demerits. Once the farm is up and running in a few hours, this will start trending us upward.”

Axle suddenly looked uncomfortable. “The algorithm seems to have a rising black mark against you for, quote, ‘not removing incompetent CEO’. Something to consider.”

I sighed. Everything and everyone kept telling me to kill him, as if it wasn’t already forefront in my mind at all times.

Something I had to actively resist considering in a serious way if I was going to stay a good man and not become some Dearth-like business asshole. Besides, I owed the asshole.

Fuck BuyMort for applying a score to it, and for scoring mercy, patience, and honor all as negatives.

“Anything else?” I added, my face cloudy.

“There’s also a current disadvantage because of time. Your affiliate is simply new, and therefore not as trusted as those who are older. The algorithm likes to have more time to categorize you and determine your buying and spending habits.”

He slapped his knees. “But, the more you bump up the more power you have in negotiations at the least. So, what do you say? Give it a run?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Let’s do it.”

Axle’s eyes flared wide, and I felt myself fall into them, diving headfirst into his mind through his irises. It was a new sensation — I’d half-expected the normal barrage of ads.

But this? This was different.

“Welcome to my interface,” Axle said.

We were standing on a polished ebony stage, the whole world around us a black-silken backdrop like some statuesque and posh theater in the richest and most celebrated of Terran cultural districts. His clothes were quite dapper yet fundamentally alien, a sleek purple velvet suit with large orbs of color dotting it here and there, always changing position and orbiting in strange patterns over him.

“You like it?” he asked.

I nodded. It certainly was a lot.

“I modeled this all after my home world. A holovid of the days before BuyMort. We were quite the stylish people, or so it seems. I like to think that one day, with enough morties, we can be again.”

I furrowed my brow but nodded. I didn’t like to think about how long that world might have been waiting. His words made me think that his world had probably rotted away into some horrible shadow of the place he was showing me now.

I shook the thoughts from my head. None of it mattered if I couldn’t even get a few villages running right and my affiliate on task.

“Yeah, I know that look. Let’s get to business,” he said, after a long and theatrical sigh. “The process of application is rather simple. We’re going to enter into the system, request an application, pay the fee and undergo a proper series of personality questions.”

“Wait, what?” I asked. An unintended growl of anger colored my voice — enough so that Axel noticeably flinched.

“Hey, don’t kill the messenger! I can coach you through it, alright?”

I sighed. “Yeah, fuck it. Let’s do this,” I muttered.

Blocks of text floated around me, swooping and jetting about the wide-open ceiling area of the theater. They were quite the lively bunch, but they seemed to settle, corralled by some invisible force until they were flying around Axle and I in an orderly circle.

Like vultures.

“The system has billions of questions, an unanswerable mess of them. And it randomly sorts them then assigns them to applicants,” Axle explained as we watched them flutter.

“For you, I would suspect that your low credit level will not bring about more than fifty. Tops one hundred. But there will be more, and they will get harder the higher up your credit level gets.”

As if the questions had been listening in and simply waiting for his explanation to finish before starting their task, a block of text swung down from the circle, slapping into me. Suddenly, all of existence was simply myself. . . and the question.

You have happened up a fallen MortBlock. Upon paying for a trace, you find that it is for a home valued at 1 million morties. Filing a background check and paying the fee, you find that the registered owner is not dead and has even placed a reward for their discovery and return of their fallen MortBlock.

The reward is 500,000 morties.

I sighed. Did the system want honesty? It seemed likely that the answer was to keep the house and just answer every question I receive with the greediest one.

A presence sidled up into my bubble of existence. It was Axle!

“I paid the coaching fee, so I’m allowed in. Pay attention because the system only lets you be coached through all of this once. After that you do it on your own.”

He paused.

“Well, no. You do it on your own, or one of your BuyMort-certified lawyers does it all for you, along with the proper licensing fees and agreements.”

I tried to point to the question, but in this void, there was no body. No me. However, I could feel an aura of indication, an energy that sparked at Axle’s own bodyless existence and goaded him into reading the question.

“Ah, yes. A classic. Now, the first thing about these interviews is that you can ask your own questions. And doing so can help you.”

Is she an affiliate owner? After paying for a commodities and services check, do I see an indication that her affiliate would synergize effectively with my own?

I gaped as well as a bodyless entity could, watching his questions and thoughts take over the question block.

She is an affiliate owner whose main sales would well-complement your own affiliate productions.

It was quickly apparent that these questions and this process would not be so simple-minded as I had thought. I was going to be hammered with these questions, made to measure all of those things that Buy-Mort prized in a business owner. And I was also going to be measured in my ability to question back and respond.

I would return the MortBlock to her personally and use the opportunity to set up a business meeting to talk about a possible partnership. I would take the reward to show her that I am not a fool, and I would leverage my production needs to convince her into entering a bulk sales deal through a BuyMort-licensed outlet. If her affiliate level were high enough and she had attained a bulk license perk herself, I would offer to do it all solely through her affiliate.

I watched this unravel. The simple question becoming a storyline of causal sentences, questions, and statements. More scenarios emerged, and Axle deftly dodged questions, throwing them back to their authors and rewriting them into his favor.

Then, all at once, my head swirled and I was back in the theater. Giant heads appeared over the stage.

“This one is all you, buddy,” Axle said, giving me two thumbs up. I faced the heads.

Each head had a question for me. Something that Axle had tackled in the previous round. It felt like they were quizzing me and making sure that I had been paying attention and that I agreed with the Knowle. They bellowed their questions, then disappeared when I answered.

Then they came no more.

I collapsed to the stage, startled at how exhausted my mental image was.

Axle extended his hand down to me, helping me stand on shaky legs. “You did good, Tyson. Plus 5 levels. Not as much as I was hoping, but that fucking Sada, man. You’ve got to do something about him.”

I stared at him. Long enough that he turned his head. Then we dropped out of his thought-space and spiraled back into reality.

“Five levels,” Axle said. Jada beamed. Phyllis let out a snort and I realized she’d passed out.

“A fine day. Thanks Axle,” I said.

The work of the day complete, Axle and Jada bid me their farewells and went to get their own living space set up. They intended to take one of the residential units, on the hobb side. They wanted the one closest to the back, as their own project in the unutilized portion of the campground would be directly next door when it was eventually established.

After they left, I clunked around my new place for a little while. Mostly, I fantasized about what kind of stuff I would eventually install in it, and what kind of additions I might want to make to it later on.

I also stared out the window at Molls’ Lincoln for far too long and thought about the eventual hot-house I wanted to build, and what kind of plants I might put into it. Just as I was thinking about birds of paradise flowers, I turned to see a most unwelcome sight.

Garthrust walked up the entrance of my site, with two of my hobbs on either side escorting him.

Chapter 32

I glared in annoyance, before intentionally leaving my weapons in my new house and walking outside to greet him, after putting my helmet on.

“Valued Garthrust!” I started, swinging my arms wide. “It is good to see you again.”

The orc in robes stopped when he saw me, a grimace on his face.

“You’re looking so good too! Did you get your tusk capped since last I saw you, Valued Garthrust?” I walked forward, arms still raised.

His face screwed up in confusion and he touched his broken tusk lightly. “What? No.”

“Ah well, it looks great either way. How can Silken Sands make your evening special?” I stopped in front of him and clasped my hands together.

Garthrust narrowed his eyes and stared at my helmet. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and I heard one of his knuckles pop from the sheer force. I smiled in my helmet and waved a casual hand at the hobb guards. They each gave me an uncertain look, and then turned to leave.

The orc turned to watch the hobbs leaving.

“You must have a great deal of trust in your abilities, Tyson Dawes of the Happy Trails Campground.” He paused and looked back at me. “To send your guards away so willingly.”

“And what of you, Valued Garthrust? You enter our caring arms so willingly, seemingly without fear of violence to your person,” I innocently asked.

His narrowed eyes took on a meaner glint, and his jaw muscles tightened. Then, he squinted at me and started laughing.

“Oh, you don’t even know about BuyMort Protective Insurance. How quaint.”

I raised an eyebrow in my helmet but stayed perfectly still and stared at him instead of reacting.

The orc sighed and continued.

“If you strike me, your account will be charged a large sum based on both the damage you cause me, as well as the amount of morties I have invested into my protection. The cost is extreme if you were to kill me,” he said with dripping sarcasm. “Meanwhile, your affiliate is so pathetic I could strike or kill you without any financial repercussions.”

“Oh, no, Valued Garthrust, you wouldn’t do that. I just don’t find you threatening. At all.” I grinned behind my helmet and twisted the verbal knife blade a little. “You’re so naturally friendly, and all of your scars indicate that you must be bad at personal combat, so I figure you’re no threat to us here.”

His skin changed color at that, starting from the neck and rising to cover his face. A deeper green flushed throughout him, and his one good eye fixed me.

“I received these scars in the gladiatorial rings of Orkresh!”

“Oooh, super impressive that you survived. It would be better if you won the fights though, you get less scars that way. Anyway, how can I help you today, Valued Garthrust?”

I clasped my hands in front of myself again and leaned forward, as if eager to hear his response.

The scarred orc stood his ground and stared at me, trying to pierce my helmet with his one eye. He clenched one fist so hard I heard his joints creak.

“Why don’t we drop this customer service routine? Are you so afraid that you must hide behind masks?”

“Oh this?” I pointed to my helmet. “This keeps my face pretty; I would think you could appreciate that.”

“Enough!” He roared.

I smiled in the safety of my helmet.

“Enough what, Valued Garthrust?” I asked in my most polite voice.

He charged. It wasn’t much, just a few quick, stomping steps before his face was nearly touching my helmet, but I simply held my ground. Nothing this idiot did to me could hurt me.

The orc’s eye moved all over the mirror surface of my helmet, trying to avoid staring in fury at his own reflection as I held my ground. “Enough games,” he growled.

I unclasped my hands from behind my back and straightened my back.

“Oh, I don’t think you want that,” I responded, my voice as low and serious as his. “The games are for your safety, Garthrust. Not mine.”

I heard the door of the Lincoln open and as we both turned, Garthrust spoke in a low growl.

“Once the games end, we play for real, you and I.”

“What is going on here!” Molls was on us in a flash, and both Garthrust and I shut our mouths. Her scales were bright orange, with a hint of red swirling around the edges.

“This . . . this buffoon is provoking me!” the orc sputtered.

“I could say the same,” I retorted calmly, before adding, “but I wouldn’t call him a buffoon in front of you. It’s churlish.”

Molls over-sized eyes blinked rapidly, and the red left her scales. “Well . . . stop provoking one another, for morties sake!”

She grabbed my arm and we turned away to speak privately. “Please stop interfering in church matters, Tyson. This is a serious meeting, and your actions could threaten this entire affiliate. As well as my personal record and standing.”

I glanced back at Garthrust to see him sneering from behind Molls’ back. I removed my helmet and tucked it under my arm.

“Molls, please. Do not trust this guy.”

Her scales flushed orange again. She blinked at me several times, before slipping her tongue quickly in and out of her mouth. “I am sorry Tyson, but I need to ask you to leave.”

I shook my head. “I’m responsible for your safety.”

“I am perfectly safe with another member of the clergy!” She hissed under her breath, but the red seeped back into her scales as she continued, “and I don’t appreciate the insinuation.”

“Molls, you have to listen. He ordered you killed. It was his personal merc who made a run at you, the night of the attack.” I tried to keep my voice low, but Garthrust was busy pretending he couldn’t hear us, looking at my new house.

“I simply do not believe that. A member of the clergy would never order a killing on another of us. That is not how the church operates. We are not the Sleem.” Her eyes narrowed and the orange in her scales was replaced completely by red.

“Yes, we are, Molls!” I hissed back. “We’re all the damned Sleem, out here eating one another, building our entire lives on each other’s corpses!”

Her eyes went wide and the color in her scales fluctuated with a burst of bright yellow. She slid back from me and took a series of calming breaths. The color in her scales faded significantly, but the red outline was deepened.

“I asked you to leave. Please do so.”

I blinked and nodded, trying to breath out my own anger. I looked back at Garthrust, which made it worse. “Please, Molls,” I whispered. “At least let me call over a hobb for security.”

The color in her scales deepened, and her eyes narrowed. “Absolutely not.”

Molls turned fully to Garthrust and pressed her hands together while bowing her head. “I apologize, venerable Garthrust. Tyson will be leaving us, and we are free to have our meeting. I apologize for the delay, and the interruption.”

Garthrust swept an arm out wide and bowed gently in response. “Think nothing of it, sister Nah’gh. I find humans difficult to work with, especially on this Nu-Earth. They are so aggressive here.”

Molls’ scales flashed pink, and she glanced at me before turning to gesture at her car. “Won’t you come into my office? I’ll put some coffee on.”

Garthrust straightened his robes and glared at me one more time, before walking confidently toward the Lincoln. “That would be lovely. Have you any Drumu-dust?”

I turned away and left as Molls’ cheery response filled my ears. My head pounded as I moved, walking at first, then running as I went for the privacy hill. I ran over the top of it and toward the parking lot. I needed a hobb, and fast.

Thankfully, dinner was being served, out of a large metal vat. The hobbs had grown in number again, I realized. Descending the hillside overlooking the parking lot gave me a chance to count them all, and I saw that we had over forty different hobbs milling around our parking lot and the residential sites. That was not including the hobbs on patrol or working guard duty at various points around the camp.

More of the mud-crete huts had been occupied by humans as well, and I saw a few new cars in the lot, and down the row of huts. I also noticed a small handful of extra yarsp carcasses laid out near the cooking station, in various states of butchery. The hobbs appeared to have saved some of the vegetables from this morning’s food run and were now serving yarsp steaks and a mixed stew to all who approached.

There were several uncomfortable looking humans in line to get food, but the hobbs were jovial and boisterous. It had the vibe of another family barbeque. Plenty of hobb children ran around as well, tearing into chunks of yarsp meat, and playing some variation of tag between the picnic tables.

I saw the young woman I had seen earlier, still hanging around the outskirts with her sketching pad, and a bowl of steaming stew in front of her. She was gently smiling at the activity all around and drawing while her meal cooled beside her.

Rayna got my attention, waving from the parking lot. I slid my helmet back on and descended the rocky hill to meet her. The hobb looked tired, and Tollya was following her with a worried expression.

“Tyson. Need to talk to you.” Her gravelly voice reached me, and I nodded.

“I’m sorry to be rude, but me first.” I turned and looked at Tollya. “Tollya, can you get a hobb to go guard Molls, please? They need to keep a distance but watch to make sure nothing violent happens during her meeting.”

Tollya turned her worried expression to me. “I go, now.”

“Thank you, Tollya. I appreciate it. You can sneak into my place. I left the side door open. Just keep a low profile and let me know if anything happens.” I raised my hand to my chest in a fist, and she instantly returned the gesture, before hustling up the hill behind me.

“Okay, thank you Rayna, that was urgent. What do you need?”

She sighed and raised her arms in a shrug. “A new place for my people to live, free of delves?”

“I’m sorry, Rayna. I had no idea my app would lure a beholder.” I shook my head. “Gotta read that fine print.”

The hobb turned away to the parking lot. “Not your fault. Just bad luck. Always bad luck, even when it looks like good.”

As I began to follow behind her, she stopped dead, and then turned to point at me. “I thought this was good place. Even with Dearth, the Sleem. Good place, we can live. But delves kill hobbs. I’ve seen it, lived it.”

She stopped talking and watched her people’s children running between the tables and shrieking with gravely laughter. “Which of them dies first?”

“Me,” I said.

When she turned back to look at me, I continued. “Maybe the delves, instead. I get the distinct impression that BuyMort is not a stable system, in spite of what Molls and the Dearth goons might think. We’re all in the meat grinder together, Rayna. I’ll do what I can to help your people, the same as my own. I got you into this, and I’d die to help you out of it, if that’s what it takes.”

I gestured to the gathered crowd of humans and hobbs.

“I can’t imagine these people have any place to go, or why on Nu-Earth would they be here? That’s how I washed up here all those years ago, dead on my feet. Took the end of the world and several horrific mutilations to snap me out of it. I just kept going to work while the end was crashing in on my head.”

She peered at my helmet, and I wondered what it was like to talk to a reflection of herself.

“If I can stop this, I will,” I said.

Rayna took a deep breath and nodded. “Was this or running jobs until one of them killed us anyway.”

Her fist closed and she slowly raised it to her chest, to thump against one breast.

“I’m sorry for my despair, boss. Thank you for taking us in.”

I returned the gesture. “Just call me Tyson, Rayna. You’re my partner in all this, not my employee.”

I raised a finger before she could respond. “Hey, what could you do with an army? Would more equipment and hobbs help keep you safe from the delves?”

She blinked, rapidly, and stared at the ground as she thought. “Of course. There are so many more in Storage, waiting to come out, but we are low on space and resources. There are no weapons to equip new soldiers with.”

The ads whirled up from the ground, a tower of them that obscured my vision. Why was it that they always came to me in some different yet psychedelic fashion? Not important. I grabbed one to see what BuyMort was prattling about.

FIRST WEEK LOANS –

LOW ON SPACE AND RESOURCES?

NO WEAPONS TO EQUIP YOUR PERSONNEL WITH?

YES, WE ARE LISTENING TO YOUR THOUGHTS AND WE KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU NEED. LET US LET YOU SAVE MONEY ON PUTTING TOGETHER THE EMPIRE OF YOUR CHOICE.

WITH RATES AS LOW AS 2.25%* MONTHLY INTEREST, FIRST WEEK LOANS GIVES YOU THE OPPORTUNITY TO GET A LEG UP ON THE COMPETITION.

NO MATTER THEIR SIZE.

*2.25% ONLY APPLIES TO MEMBERS OF OUR OWN AFFILIATE, OR THOSE WITH A LEVEL 100 CREDIT RATING. INTEREST RATES MAY CHANGE WITHOUT NOTICE. IN THE EVENT OF AN INABILITY TO PAY THE INTEREST OF A LOAN, THE ENTIRE AMOUNT OWED WILL BE SEIZED, AND ADDITIONAL ASSETS WILL BE SOLD UNTIL THE DEBT BALANCE HAS BEEN FULFILLED. FAILURE TO PAY OFF THE LOAN WITH THE SEIZURE OF ALL AFFILIATE ASSETS WILL RESULT IN A PERIOD OF DEBT REPAYMENT AT THE OCCUPATION OF FIRST WEEK LOANS CHOICE. A FAILURE TO COMPLY WITH THESE CONDITIONS WILL RESULT IN AN IMMEDIATE CONTRACT UPON THE LIFE OF ALL MEMBERS OF THE DEBTING AFFILIATE.

I swept it all away. Fuck loans. I’d take them only as an absolute last resort. I came back to myself and locked eyes with Rayna.

“I have a plan for exactly that. Let’s go see the ravens.”

Chapter 33

With Rayna at my side, I led the way back to Phyllis’ site, where I had to stop and gawk for a moment. There was something new about her campsite. In the short space since we had left, she’d gotten rid of her trailer, but kept her porch.

A low structure made of metal occupied the space her torn up Shasta used to be in, and I saw as we approached that her mech was suspended in it from thick robotic arms. It looked like a docking bay for the mech, which held it off the ground, and appeared to be working on her right arm with a series of tools on robotic limbs sparking and making small movements.

“Hey there dearie,” she said as we approached.

“Well, hi again, Phill!” I gestured around us at the metal structure. “What’s all this?”

“My new garage, I suppose.” She waved her free arm, and the suit whirred softly as the joint rotated. “Getting some work done on my weapon, I’m thinking about taking on some jobs.”

I stopped and scowled, glancing between the old lady suspended in her mech suit and the alien hobb at my side. Then I shook my head and laughed. “Of course, you are, what brought that on?”

“Well, Tyson, if you must know, I am bored and lonely. Happens sometimes, and now with the suit, I can get out and about more easily. Go for a hike and make some new friends if I wanted to.”

The suit offered Phyllis a lit joint with a tiny mechanical arm, and she happily pressed her lips to it for a puff.

“Besides, I’m runnin’ out of morties, and your little wasp hunting job got me turned onto more mercenary opportunities. Figured it can’t be any more harrowing than the resistance, and at least now I don’t have to seduce anyone first.”

“Well, shit, Phill. I dunno what to say, that’s wild. Promise me you’ll be careful?” I asked. I stepped sideways to move out of her way.

“I’m always careful, Tyson, I’m ninety-two years old. If I’m not careful I hurt myself going to the bathroom.” She paused and took another puff of her joint. “Or at least, I used to. This thing has really changed my life for the better.”

“Yeah, plus it feeds you lots of drugs, I bet,” I said, raising a hand to leave.

“There is that” she crooned, staring at the joint perched on a robotic arm for her. “That is rather nice.”

“Right on Phill! I gotta run, camp business. But I’ll catch you soon for that bug run. Don’t wander off just yet either, we have Dearth in camp.”

I waved, then turned away to the raven stronghold.

It too, had grown in my absence. The fencing had been replaced by a nicer version, with marbled redwood and thick, padded cables run along the top.

One raven was perched on lookout duty and cawed at my approach. Several other ravens popped out to watch, settling onto comfortable stretches of fencing.

“Hi guys!” I waved cheerfully. “Got some work for you all tonight.”

Darclau arrived then, fluttering from the structure I could see through the fence slats and coming to rest directly in front of me. He burbled and spread his wings, before reaching up one foot with his talons all closed.

I happily reached to fist bump him, and he pecked me on the knuckles again. His gathered unkindness of ravens all flapped their wings and cawed, filling the early evening with raucous noise.

“Haha, alright, you got me.”

I reached my fist forward again, and the bird cocked his head sideways at me for a long moment before he raised his clenched foot. I came the rest of the way, and gently fist bumped him.

This may seem silly, but it was honestly one of the happiest moments of my life. I really needed to get that suet cake made for these guys.

Darclau hopped back and forth, spreading out his ravens and giving us a little room. Then he cocked his head sideways at me and opened his mouth wide, before rolling his eyes back and making a series of happy-sounding burbles.

“Hey buddy, I am thrilled to chill with you too, and I’m super jealous of your guys’ setup. This place is getting really nice!”

I reached to peek over, and Darclau spread his wings to bask in my praise with a happy caw.

“How do you feel about a job tonight?” I asked, leaning on his fence. It was solid, and the padded top felt nice under my elbow.

The raven bobbed his head and made several “gwa” noises, so I assumed he was happy with the concept. I wondered how well he understood his job, and the universal translator bumped up a notch on my wish list.

“Okay, good. All I need is for you to follow the hurt-man. He will go with the green man in a little bit.” I cocked my own head watching the raven’s response.

Darclau watched me speak the whole time, but when I said ‘green man’ he turned and looked up the dirt road to my place.

“Yeah, that green man. Good. I need to know where the hurt-man I send with him goes. Can you follow them when they leave, and report back to me where they go?”

The raven cawed once and raised his curled-up claw to me again. I smiled and reached to fist bump him and he pecked my knuckles. The other ravens on the fence all cawed and flapped their wings as Darclau g’wahed at me again and pumped his neck back and forth.

I chuckled and cradled my sore knuckles. “Okay, okay, you got me again. Very funny. I’ll be back soon, and I’ll have the hurt man with me.”

The raven bobbed his head once and opened his beak at me.

“I’ll make the suet cake soon too, don’t worry. I have all the ingredients. I just need to find an oven and some spare time.” I spoke as I turned to leave, and the raven burbled happily with his friends behind me.

I stopped, face to face with Rayna. She had her arms crossed and was staring at me. “What you need me do?”

“Oh yeah, right. Dammit, I’m sorry. Really running out of steam today.” I blinked and took a few breaths to get my head on straight.

“Right. I need you to go get our prisoner, he’s about to be leaving. You’ll probably want to use the golf cart.”

The hobb nodded at me and started jogging. I was walking toward my campsite again when I heard Cube’s distinct metallic voice in the air.

“ALONE! ALONE! ALONE!”

Tollya appeared a moment later, scrambling over the privacy hill. She saw me and diverted course, and I started running.

“Something wrong with snake-priest!” She grunted. “Had to run, box started screaming after they wake it up.”

Cube was still wailing in the background, and part of me wrenched. I actually wanted to go to it. The poor thing was a baby, and I had left it alone, which was apparently an unacceptable situation once it had been noticed.

Tollya fell in beside me as I ran up the hill toward Molls’ car. When I crested the hill, I didn’t understand the scene I saw.

Molls was leaning on her open car door, as Garthrust stood in front of her with a device trained on her, recording. I stomped down the hill, and the orc turned the device on me.

Molls turned to face me, following Garthrust’s movement, and her slit pupils widened considerably. Her scales, already a swirling mix of pink and purple, grew brighter.

“Tyssson! I’m glad you came back, I wanted to sssay how sssorry I am for earlier,” she slurred.

The Nah’gh woman let go of the car door and slithered up beside me, looping her arm into my own and lowering her height to slightly lower than mine.

“Hi,” she said, smiling directly into my helmet. “Ooo, you’re right.”

She leaned drunkenly to her left and I righted her. She laughed, then turned to see her own reflection slightly better.

“I am pretty.”

I pushed her arm out of my own, gently. “Molls, you need to get back in your car, right now, okay?”

She blinked rapidly in confusion for a few seconds before a slow smile spread across her lips.

“Only if you come with me.” She gently bit her lower lip as her scales turned slightly brighter pink. “Fuck you’re hot. Why do you never wear a shirt?”

I turned and faced Garthrust. A cocky smirk rode his face and his eyes bore into me, speaking a language I was well acquainted with. They told me I’d just been fucked, and they noted that someone like me, a pathetic worm, had nothing I could do about it.

“What did you do?” I asked, my voice mixed through with surprise and anger. His eyes widened, apparently surprised by my reaction.

I started walking toward him. “What’d you dose her with?” I roared.

A swarm of ads rose up, seemingly from his mouth, to cover my vision. I swept them all away, but my increasing anger apparently missed one. It splatted over me, demanding that I read its contents.

SPANISH FLY FORMULA - SHE’LL DO THINGS SHE’S NEVER DONE BEFORE. INCREASES SEXUAL DESIRE.

YOU’RE THE BOSS - CALL THE BLOWS.

TURNS ON ANYONE . . . FAST! SNEAKS UP ON YOU. WOMEN, MEN, ANY HUMANOID VARIATION WILL SUBMIT TO YOUR WILL.

500 morties, 2.9 stars.

Great, thanks BuyMort. Perfect timing for a date-rape ad, instead of something to actually help, like a detox drug. An ad for a ‘detoxer’ popped up on top of the ad for the date-rape drug. I swatted the pop ups aside and focused on my target, letting the annoyance of the pop-ups further fuel my rage as I closed the distance between us.

Molls gaped behind me, her scales turning bright yellow as she froze in shock.

“What did you do?” I roared.

The question was followed by a fast right hook to his solar plexus. I held back my power blow ability, but the hit was still enough to double the orc up with a wheeze.

This individual is protected by BuyMort Protective Insurance. Five hundred thousand morties have been deducted from your account.

I could feel them leave as morties drained from my account. A wonderful perk from BuyMort that I promptly ignored.

“What’d you give her?!” I slammed my unarmored fist down onto the orc’s jaw as he began to recover, and he went to the dirt in a tumble of dust and robes.

This individual is protected by BuyMort Protective Insurance. Five hundred thousand morties have been deducted from your account.

His device rattled and bounced off the stones. Tollya ran forward and grabbed it. She looked at the screen and shook her head.

“Whatever he record, he already send it, boss.”

I turned back to glare at the orc. He chuckled in the dirt.

“Are you feeling my BuyMort Protective Insurance yet asshole? The best thing about it is that I can break every piece of you and BuyMort won’t care. You won’t even have the option to apply for it until your affiliate reaches level 90.”

I stomped forward, murder in my eyes. Before I could reach him, Molls grabbed my arm.

“No Tyssson, no!” She hauled back on me and when I turned to face her, the yellow faded from her scales. She smiled at me again. “Let’sss jussst go to bed. C’mon, leave him, he’sss boring.”

“Tollya!” I shouted. The hobb ran to my side and gently took Molls. She started guiding the poor woman toward her car again, but Molls resisted.

“No, don’t fight! Don’t fight with him!” Molls cried. “Stay with me. He has protect-thingy. Money vacuum.” Tollya gripped her elbows and forcibly turned her torso.

“Don’t worry. It’s not gonna be a fight,” I muttered as I turned back to Garthrust. The orc picked himself up out of the dirt and smiled at me.

“A smart move. Too bad that you’re a dead ma-“

I hit him with a heavy shoulder charge and knocked the wind out of him, slamming him back into the hard packed earth. He gasped and produced a small knife from beneath his robes.

This individual is protected by BuyMort Protective Insurance. Five hundred thousand morties have been deducted from your account.

I raised both arms over my head and brought them down on his chest in a gorilla slam, activating my power blow ability in both arms. The sound my fists made when they connected was somewhere between a heavy thud, and a sickening crunch.

This individual is protected by BuyMort Protective Insurance. One million morties have been deducted from your account.

When he didn’t let go of the knife, I grabbed his hand and squeezed, while twisting. The bones in his hand and wrist snapped under my grip, and the knife clattered free.

This individual is protected by BuyMort Protective Insurance. Three million morties have been deducted from your account.

The orc bellowed in pain, but the bellow rapidly became a wheeze as when he went to take his next breath, searing pain racked his broken ribs.

My cartoon starfish danced in the background, reveling in the damage-created kinetic energy I was bringing in.

“Hey,” I said, towering over Garthrust. He spat blood into the dirt, then stared up at me.

Behind him, I could see Tollya trying to tuck Molls into her car again. The snake woman resisted, claiming in a loud whine that it was too hot in the car for her, and trying to take off her robe.

“What’d you give her?” I asked. My volume had dropped, but the rancor in my tone had increased a thousand-fold. I was ready to kill him. I was done with this bullshit.

The orc groaned and rolled, before I shoved his shoulder back to the dirt with my foot.

I grabbed his collar and lifted him bodily off the ground into a headbutt with my helmet. He squealed as his nose shattered against the mirrored surface, splatting blood all over my front, and I slammed it into him again. Notifications continued to roll by, but I ignored them all.

Dude was going to tell me what I needed to know, or he was going to made into a bloody paste on the hard pan of the Arizona desert.

I punched him and his eyes rolled back into his head. He slumped, groaning.

Nope, not on my watch. I was not going to give him a break.

I pressed on his ribcage and wrist with my knuckles. He awoke with a sharp cry of pain.

“Better start talking,” I said, grabbing the collar of his robe again. He tried to ward me off with his hands, but I slammed his face into my helmet twice more in rapid succession and then dropped him back onto the dirt.

The orc rolled to his side with a stifled scream of pain and spit out a mouthful of broken teeth. When he turned back to look at me, he was unrecognizable. I clenched a fist and raised it, and he squealed.

“TELL ME!” I roared at him.

“Control!” he screamed. “Please don’t kill me. It was control!”

The orc curled his legs up and pushed against my foot, trying to get away from me. I grabbed his leg and hauled him back underneath me.

“What?!” I shouted. Then, in a lower voice, I said, “record.” A light blinked on in the helmet, indicating video recording.

“Control! Control! I dosed her coffee with control!” he wheezed, spitting more fragments of teeth out.

“Why?” My fist was still in the air, and his good eye never left it.

“It’s an illicit substance in the church! She’ll lose her robes!” His hands rose to ward off the blow, but I lowered my fist.

“And then Dearth doesn’t have to worry about stepping on the church's toes when they roll that tank in here,” I muttered.

He nodded, not aware I was no longer questioning him. “Yes. Yes, that’s the plan.”

“End recording.” I looked down at the orc, and he opened his bleeding mouth to speak again.

“Shut up,” I snarled, reaching down, and striking him one more time in the side of his jaw. The bone snapped as it dislocated, and he slumped, unconscious. Or dead for all I knew, I didn’t care enough to check.

Tollya had stopped fighting Molls to get her in the Lincoln, and the women were standing next to the car, staring at me. I breathed heavily as I thought about what had just happened, then counted out the insurance notifications.

I’d just delivered a ten-million-mortie beat-down.

Chapter 34

Moll’s scales were vibrant yellow.

“C-control?” she whispered.

One hand raised to her throat, and her scales swirled with bright pinks intruding into the yellow. The Nah’gh woman pulled away from Tollya and slithered easily to the trunk of the car.

It popped open at a touch from her, and she began digging through it. Within a moment, she raised a pen-shaped item from it and drove the point into her own neck. A small hiss erupted from the object, and her body visibly relaxed. All the color drained from her scales, and she used the side of the car to move back to the open backdoor.

Tollya moved aside for her, and Molls slid inside. One coil of her tail remained when she tried to close to the door, and I winced when I heard her yelp from inside. The section of tail slid hurriedly inside, and the door closed again.

“Check on her, please?” I pointed, and Tollya immediately turned and moved around to the front seat, getting in.

I turned back to Garthrust. When I checked him, he was breathing, but didn’t appear to be coming around. I hauled him up by the back of his neck and moved to the entrance of my house.

I dropped him, bleeding, on the floor next to Cube’s emplacement and reached in to pick up the poor creature. It had shrieked until it heard me beating Garthrust, and then it got silent.

When I walked in, it was shaking in a pool of liquid metal from its base.

“It’s okay little guy, I’m here.”

“NO TOUCH!” it screamed, the instant my fingers made contact.

I jumped and pulled my arms back.

“STAY NEAR!” Cube demanded. I took a breath. That much I could do.

Honestly, the fight was all out of me now. I felt like a drained husk. Staying near without touching was probably the thing I was best at doing at that moment.

I slumped to the floor, leaning my back against one of the thick legs of Cube’s emplacement. Garthrust breathed raggedly on the floor at my side, and I stared out my open door at the Arizona night sky.

It was still purple, with a rind of orange. Stars were beginning to twinkle from the deeper portions of purple.

“Beautiful,” I whispered.

The helmet helped me keep it to myself, but really, I was past the point of caring. I found myself seeking out beauty to quiet the horror and brace myself for more.

Tollya had said whatever Garthrust had been recording, he sent. Once I beat the ‘control’ answer out of him, I realized he’d already done everything he meant to do.

His message was sent, along with video evidence.

Likely to the church, but also to Dearth. Once we officially lost church protection, I expected a full-scale attack within hours.

I looked down at the bleeding orc at my side. He was face down on my tile, each breath an agonizing labor.

“What, exactly, is the point of keeping you alive, Valued Garthrust?” I asked.

He stirred as I spoke and started dragging himself slowly away with his arms.

“You’ll be in Storage by morning…” the bloody orc groaned. His mouth was mangled, but the words still formed well enough to be understood.

“Oh, don’t make it weird. Not a serious question anyway. I know the consequences. I saw the insurance prompts. I heard the financial repercussions you spoke of.”

I took in a breath, long and deep.

“I’m just not entirely sure I care. Might be worth it to end you for what you did to her.”

He wheezed, sucking in breaths, no doubt to say something shitty. But before he could respond further, I thumped him once on the back and stood.

The orc squealed in brief agony before slumping back into dazed non-responsiveness.

This individual is protected by BuyMort Protective Insurance. One million morties have been deducted from your account.

That was eleven million morties lost in total, my final million spent. I was broke again.

If Garthrust died from my beating, I was on the hook for a cool billion morties I had no way to pay.

Rayna’s conversation with me about Drusk the mordren popped into my head, and I suddenly wondered if Dearth would be willing to pay for Garthrust’s return.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Rayna.

She answered, but I could see she was also helping Ordo get Zach loaded in the golf cart and she seemed annoyed that I was calling her.

“Hey, sorry, I know you’re busy. Just need to work this next part right so Dearth doesn’t start shooting right away. We might be able to take them, but I’d feel better about it if we had a lot more armed hobbs first,” I told her.

She frowned and shook her head. “Work next part? What’s your plan?”

“That’s why I need your help. I need you to contact your gate guards and have them tell Dearth we will allow their medics to come and get two of their injured once a ransom is worked out between our affiliates.”

The hobb on the other end smiled and nodded. “Got it boss.” She hung up and I turned to look at Garthrust again.

I bent over to pick him up and Cube suddenly shrieked, “NO MOVE!” directly into my face.

I stopped and held perfectly still, my helmet level with the little block of living metal. As I watched, its mouth opened, and the grinders parted to allow a tongue to pass between them. The tongue looked like liquid metal and flowed with gentle movement from the tip back down into the mouth.

It was long, snaking across the space between us to lick Garthrust’s gore from my helmet.

I stared in silence, as the liquid metal tongue scraped the blood and viscera from my viewscreen, before scooping it back into the creature's mouth. The tongue deposited the physical material onto the grinders as it slid past them, and when Cube closed its mouth, the grinders activated, producing a purr of contentment.

“Okay, thank you Cube.”

I hadn’t noticed the gore on my helmet, even though I had been looking past it since the scuffle. It was best at that time to ignore the implications of Cube eating orc bits and sauce. I was busy. But I definitely noticed it and tucked that tidbit of information away for later.

With a quick shake of my head, I stooped and picked up Garthrust, cradling him in my arms and moving to the doorway. Cube turned in my direction but didn’t scream again.

Tollya was standing by Molls’ car, and I jerked my head to indicate she should approach.

“Hey, can you keep an eye on Cube for me? It doesn’t like to be left alone, so just hang out in this room with it. Him? I feel like he might be him, if such a construct applies to Cubes. Anyway, I’ll be back soon,” I said.

Tollya nodded and stepped in to inspect Cube. I carried Garthrust out and down the road, turning to walk toward the main gate. He was a full sized Orkreshi male and weighed at least two-hundred and fifty pounds.

But, while I was aware of his weight, it just didn’t bother me to carry it. The patches were definitely increasing my general strength.

The sheer ease with which I had beaten him into submission was proof of that too. That first hook to the gut had been brutal. I held back the power blow effect, but not my new raw physical strength.

The hit had nearly lifted him off his feet.

I was met by hobbs, before I got much further than my own driveway. They arrived to escort myself and what was left of Garthrust to the main gate. Once we arrived, I set the unconscious orc down gently on a nearby table and checked his pulse and breathing.

In spite of several broken ribs, a badly shattered hand and wrist, and a smashed jaw, he appeared to be breathing okay, and his pulse was still strong.

Orcs are tough. I nodded my head slightly, give the brute respect for surviving such an epic beatdown, and turned back to the gate, where a small group from Dearth was being let through.

Rayna and Ordo arrived behind us, escorting Zach in the golf cart. His arms were no longer tied, and when the golf cart slid to a stop in the dirt beside me, he groaned in pain and clutched at metal bars connecting the roof to the body of the vehicle.

“Oh good, Zach.” I approached the vehicle and prepared myself for another of his tirades.

The man's eyes widened in anger when I spoke, but then he saw who I had been carrying, and he went pale. He stayed silent, surprising me.

“Wow, that’s good. That’s exactly what I was about to suggest you do, just keep doing that,” I said.

He looked up at me and narrowed his eyes, but I continued. “Just stay silent and you might survive to make it back to your people. If you blow this hand-off, you die first. Ordo, you got that?”

The hobb was seated behind Zach. He nodded, produced a sidearm, and racked the slide to chamber a round.

Zach paled further.

Another group of hobbs approached, from the gate this time. They were escorting a small group of Dearth Conglomerate mercs, who were escorting a pair of medics with hovering stretchers. Both medics were humans who were clearly not from my earth, but the majority of the guards were orcs and hobbs.

As I turned to address the new crowd, I saw Darclau hop up onto the perch he preferred, at the top of his new fence. I nodded at him and started walking toward the medics.

“Ten million for the orc. One for the human,” I said, my helmet gleaming in the fading light. “Oh, and you better hurry,” I said, gesturing to Garthrust to emphasize my point.

His hand had compound fractures jutting from both the palm, and the back of his knuckles. Greenish blood oozed from his ears and eyes, indicating a cranial fracture of some sort, and his nose had been reduced to a shapeless mound of bleeding flesh.

An orc guard stopped in front of me. “What happened?” he demanded. His armor was finer than his compatriots, and he carried a sleek looking sidearm I couldn’t identify.

I stepped up in front of the orc and leaned to peer at the medics behind him. Neither of them moved to help me, so I looked back to the orc.

“He fell down some stairs,” I said. Then I turned and indicated Zach, still in the golf cart. “Him too, same stairs.”

The lie fell out of me easily, and I could see that the guards were confused enough by it to contain their instinctual reaction. The guard frowned, stared at me with open suspicion, and then moved out of my way.

I calmly gestured to one of the humans. The medic immediately produced a hand-held tool and began waving it over Garthrust’s chest like a wand.

“Massive internal injuries, multiple broken bones,” he droned into the back of his hand. It had a band around the wrist that appeared to contain his recording, or communications device. “He needs surgery right away; we’ll have to get him back to base immediately if we’re going to save his life.”

One of the orc guards leaned to look at the medic. “Orgaki norchu wagh’ei ‘site-b’?”

My ears perked at that, and the orc who had stopped me stepped over to cuff his subordinate.

“Shut your mouth, fool,” the commanding officer barked in English.

Then he stepped away to make a phone call, producing a small plastic phone and dealing with the bald head before he was connected to someone in Dearth. All I could see was a pink face, and what looked like a human head.

The orc muttered a few words, then nodded. He nodded a few more times before disconnecting the device and putting it back in a pocket on his armor. The orc turned back to me, and nodded once, a grim look on his face.

My account filled with eleven million morties, and I stepped back to allow their medics access to the fallen orc.

They hurriedly loaded Garthrust and Zach onto the hovering sleds and began marching back to the front gate. Darclau circled far overhead, highlighted in my helmet. I noticed he was wearing something on his head, it made one of his eyes glow green when he looked directly at me.

The procession moved through the camp with very little trust on either side. My hobbs maintained a formation around the outside of their entire group, weapons trained. They did the same from the inside. The medics set the pace, and we all walked to the exit.

My new gates swung wide to let us all out, and our hobbs broke formation at the front to allow the Dearth mercenaries to exit. Zach glared at me over the shoulder of the human medic pushing him as they left, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

I noticed the hover-tank had its main barrel aimed at our gate this time, but everyone simply piled into their vehicles and left. The injuries had definitely thrown off some kind of game plan.

All of the vehicles did a U-turn on the road in front of the gates and headed off the long way around the forest into Prescott. A militia pick-up truck led the entire procession.

We closed the gates, and I watched Darclau soar after them. Ordo shook his head and turned to me. “The orc say ‘what about the strike on Site B?”

“Thank you, Ordo, I was hoping someone would translate that for me.” I sighed and shook my head. I wasn’t positive, but ‘Site-B’ sounded like Sundew Valley Foods to me. I was suddenly glad to have delayed them, just in case.

I pulled out my phone and hurriedly sent a text to Lee. “Heads up. Dearth mentioned a pending strike on someplace called ‘Site B’ and I’m worried it might be you guys, since we appear to be site a.”

The older man did not respond, but I did get a notification that he saw my message, so I nodded and went back about my day.

Dearth had just paid me to beat their representative half to death, and that brightened my day considerably.

It had cost me eleven million to beat Garthrust down, and I had hoped that by keeping my ransom request low, it would trick them into accepting it right away. These guys were idiots, and if I could continue to leverage that idiocy just right, I could actually beat them.

All it would take was a dash of shocking violence to accomplish it.

Chapter 35

Tollya was watching Cube, and I needed to get back to her, but I stopped by the item storage building before heading home. I wanted to see if there was any kind of oven left over.

The barn itself was a very simple construction. Just a sloping dome of mud-crete, with two main cargo doors. One on the ground floor, and one in the loft, where a simple crane was attached to a short protuberance of mud-crete and metal.

I hauled open the wooden doors after lifting the latch. There was a hobb nearby, as part of the gate duty, and I noticed they were paying close attention to me. If I was anyone else, they would probably be asking questions before just letting me rummage around.

Inside the barn was a series of portioned out spaces on the single floor for general storage. The tents and air mattresses were neatly tucked in a corner of the high-ceilinged room, and the leftovers from our flea market were lined up against the far wall. There was a ladder and rudimentary cargo elevator at the back.

Everything was meant to be lit by naked light bulbs strung along the ceiling, but of course none of them worked yet. Thankfully, there was enough light for my helmet’s low light function to work perfectly, and I found what I was looking for quickly enough.

An oven was the goal, and I did end up finding one. It was an old-style in-home unit that appeared to have been literally ripped out of the wall it had been attached to. The gas pipe had some colored wallpaper stuck on a raised lip of wood near the end, which appeared to have been sawed off with a power tool.

That, and the mud-crete stains on it led me to suspect goblins.

I hefted the thing under one arm, letting the oven door hang open so I could grip it, and grabbed a bottle of propane that had been left beside it. With my treasures firmly gripped, I shoved open the barn door and made my way back outside.

As I walked past the parking lot, the girl with the sketchbook rapidly drew in it while glancing up and down at me. I stopped and sighed, before setting the oven down and approaching. But before I could get more than a few feet in her direction, she gathered up her things and fled.

Timid little thing. I wondered who she was.

I stared at her as she ran down the line of mud-crete huts into the darkness. I didn’t remember seeing her over at the coop. And she sure as hell wasn’t one of the campers — as far as I was aware they’d all gone. Well, excepting Phyllis of course.

Whatever. The mystery would sort itself out as it needed to. I grabbed my oven again, hauling it down the road to my place.

Tollya was glad to leave once I arrived, and I checked in on Cube. He appeared to be asleep. I dragged the oven and propane tank into the other room and got to work setting them up.

I started tinkering with it, but the connection was hinky. Something was off. Maybe it was broken, or the wrong company’s design, but whatever it was I couldn’t figure it out. A few juicy swears later, I called up my BuyMort interface, telling it to find me something that worked.

HI THERE! I’M HANK O’HILL AND I SELL PROPANE AND PROPANE ACCESSORIES. HANK O’HILL ASSOCIATED. DO YOU NEED THE GAS? WE HAVE GOT THE GOODS.

LOOKS TO ME LIKE YOU NEED A SIDE-EYE UNIVERSAL CONNECTOR. HERE, LET ME GET THAT SET UP FOR YOU.

5 STARS, 50,000 MORTIES.

The ad was oddly personal and quite friendly. It felt like it was perhaps an AI of some sort, like a lesser version of Clippy.

Whatever. I took it in stride, I affirmed the purchase from BuyMort, and I got the propane hooked up to the oven. Honestly it made me feel like a level 50 smart shopper just for finding it.

The connector came with an instruction manual, thankfully printing on light paper instead of the fleshy tape stuff that so much of BuyMort seemed to involve. Its interior text promised that it would connect any water or gas piping system within a reasonable size range, without fail.

There was a diagram, and it was damn useful.

The connector crimped down on two ends of pipe, drawing them together and creating a constriction weld that was guaranteed to survive any residential use. The text was vague about the wording of what qualified, but propane bottle to oven was well within the range of this strange item’s ability.

When it arrived, I started my newest flesh-tape package pile in the corner, suppressing a shudder. That gross shit still got to me sometimes, but what was even grosser was my realization that maybe Cube would want to eat it.

Fuck it. It was all his if he wanted it.

In the box was a scaled sea cucumber. The entire tube was covered in small silver metallic scales, which rippled with movement when I pressed one end of it to the propane tanks nozzle, and the other to the cut oven gas line.

Both ends of the connector crunched as the metal object squeezed and crushed the short lengths of pipes together. It changed color as the compression weld began, which was bizarrely described as a ‘heat-free’ process. The strange tube robot would simply harden its own internal structures once it had used its plating to create a perfect seal.

Next, I sneaked back into Cube’s room and took a long length of cabling from his roost. It featured a multi-plug option that worked with the oven, so I happily plugged it in and turned the handle to turn on the propane.

It hissed and I immediately smelled a whiff of rotten egg. Hesitantly, I reached out to turn on a burner, then scrambled back as flame roared out three inches above the stove.

After waiting a few tics to make sure the damn thing wasn’t about to explode, I scrambled back over and turned off the propane and the oven.

That’s when I notice a little metal plaque of the back of the over. I peered at it closely and laughed. Turns out, the oven could only use natural gas. I was probably lucky not to be on my back right now, screaming while a cartoon starfish wagged its little arm at me and told me to go punch some windows.

See, the nozzles inside were too big for propane, which led to too much being released, even when the oven or stove top is turned off. The entire thing was a death-trap, and I scowled in frustration. Then I dragged it outside and left it in the dirt.

I just wanted to make suet cake for Darclau so it would be ready when he got back. Guess I would need the help of my Knowles to figure that out too.

My irritated stewing was interrupted by a light knock at my front door. I could see from the shadow cast beneath the door that it was Molls. I quickly cast about for a shirt but realized that I had nothing but empty mud-crete walls and a sensitive infant Cube that appeared to like meat.

So, I answered the door in my helmet.

Molls was fully dressed. Her scales were a neutral white, and flushed pink immediately upon seeing herself reflected in my helmet’s mirrored surface.

I winced and removed it. That had been a terrible idea.

The heating element in Moll’s hood hummed, and she smiled gently at me as I lowered the helmet to my side. I was suddenly conscious of the metal starfish embedded in my chest. Molls held steady eye-contact and dipped her head to me.

“Thank you for seeing me, Tyson. I wanted to apologize. You were correct about Garthrust and his intentions, and I was foolish to ignore you. Thank you for protecting me, in spite of myself.” Her scales deepened in color steadily as she spoke.

“That’s my job,” I answered. My voice was low, and I didn’t know what to say to comfort her. “That was, uh. . . “ I trailed off, but Molls leaned in.

“What?” She smiled sadly. “Please, speak your mind.”

I shrugged. “That was awful. What he did to you.”

She looked down, and her scales deepened in color. “Yes. Yes, it was.” Then the giant snake woman smiled. “I would argue what you did to him was equivalent.”

“Well.” I shrugged again. “I did go easy on him.”

She laughed. Just once, a sharp, harsh laugh. Her hand raised to cover her lips, as if in shock the sound had come from her. Then she dropped her hand and hung her head. “You did, didn’t you? Was that for me?”

I nodded. “And the camp. But yeah, mostly you.” I gestured to the helmet. “I have a recording of his admission here, if that means anything.”

“Thank you, Tyson. If he lives, I can counter his claim. Which I have already done, by the way. I filed an emergency notification with the church, accusing him of drugging me. Your recording will be valuable indeed, I am relieved to hear there is evidence of some kind. I recorded my own bio-stats immediately after taking a sedative to counteract the control. The geo-positioning and timestamps of both recordings together will be compelling evidence.”

She sighed and waved her phone against my helmet as I manipulated the screen to transfer the video file to her. “I will keep you informed of your church protective status.”

“Thank you, Molls.” I hesitated. “Is there anything I can do? I don’t know how to help, maybe just be a friend?”

She sighed quickly, but then smiled. “I am going, now, actually, to spend some time with Phyllis on her marvelous porch. That place has healing properties. I just came by to apologize.”

I nodded, eagerly. “Of course, I understand. And no worries. At all. I’ll uh, see you around.”

Molls lowered her head and nodded. “Good night, Tyson.”

Standing in the doorway with no shirt, I watched her slither away down the road. Her posture was huddled, and she moved slowly.

I became restless. So much for being tired. I needed to make a phone call, anyway. Lee and his people needed warning, and I had put it off out of doubt for far too long already.

The psychic phone connected me to Lee, of Sundew Valley Foods. The older man answered after a single ring. “Tyson, good to hear from you.”

“Hey, Lee. I need to warn you, I think Dearth might be planning to hit your place. Is everything okay with your priest? They just made a move on mine.” I walked back inside as I spoke, heading upstairs to my gear.

Lee was on the wall; I could see the night sky in his background. He nodded, his lips a grim line beneath his mustache.

“Nah, our priest has up and left. The hobbs been muttering all day, after the priest had a visitor from the church this morning. Been calling her a bad priest. Now they’re wanting to renegotiate their contract to reflect the lack of church protection.”

I ran a hand over my face. “Ah hell, Lee. Better get the idea of movin’ over here in your people’s heads.”

He scowled. “You think so?”

“They made a serious move on our priest tonight, drugged her and sent the recording to get her disrobed. We countered, but I don’t think it’ll turn our way either.” I clipped my swords back in place as I spoke. “That’s not how companies like this work.”

“I’ll consider it as a backup plan, if’n we need to. And I appreciate your hospitality.” He nodded at me. “We ain’t likely to give up our home though.”

“Understand completely. Hey, before you go. I think my place is pretty well secured against ‘em for the night, but I need to make another food run before the damn yarsps come out in force.” I gave him a crooked smile over the phone. “I’m handy in a fight. Would you mind if I swung by?”

He scowled but nodded along as I spoke. “Aye, aye we could do that easy enough, I’ll get some baskets and bushels rounded up for you. Morties?”

I nodded. “Plenty of em. Enough for that pickup truck again, but all fruit and veg. We got cold food storage now.”

He nodded back, bobbing his mustache. “See you soon.”

We hung up and I froze. Someone was in the room with me, and she smelled like red wine and baby oil.

“Lady Shireen,” I said. I closed my eyes and turned in place before opening them.

She was in the room behind me, having just climbed the stairs. A loose kimono of red and black silk covered her nudity, and she waved a bottle of wine at me with a lusty smile.

“I hear you beat an orc to death in the dirt near here tonight,” she drolled. “I saw the blood-stains on my way in.”

She puffed her breath at my neck with the end of the sentence, standing far too close.

I blinked. “Yeah, that was a thing that happened, alright.” I swallowed my fear and tried to face her with confidence.

She stepped over to my balcony and swung the doors open, her kimono fluttering to expose sculpted thighs.

“Quadrum wishes to meet with you, Tyson. Then, when he's done, you and I can have some fun.”

Taytrinn smiled and leaned against the doorframe, so her kimono stretched out over the right areas.

I ignored her, staring at the floating beholder on my porch. It was exposed, anyone in the camp who wanted to see it could. Quadrum suddenly surged forward and grappled Taytrinn with two of his tentacles. The eyes on the end latched to her temples, and the beholder dangled the dark elf from her skull, swinging her to look at me.

“RELEASE ME, TYSON DAWES OF SILKEN SANDS!”

Taytrinn shouted the words, but they were in a much deeper, masculine voice, and sounded as though her vocal chords were under duress.

“How?” I replied. This was unexpected, but I was glad to not be fending off Taytrinn’s advances.

“FREE ME FROM MY DELVES! THEY INTERFERE! I MUST STUDY THE SLEEM! RELEASE ME FROM MY DELVES!”

Quadrum slipped his tentacles away from Lady Shireen’s temples and she dropped to the floor, gasping and clutching at her throat. The beholder floated away, drifting quickly out of sight.

Her voice was nearly a croak. “What happened? Quadrum spoke to you directly?” She was clearly scared, but anger started to replace it quickly. “What did you discuss?!”

“Does Quadrum do that often?” I asked gently, peering at her throat. Her fingers were still rubbing the area, but when she saw my attention, she turned away in a huff.

“As a beholder, Quadrum is perfectly welcome to use my house, my noble line as he sees fit. That does include using my voice box as desired,” she gasped and choked. “But he has not for many years. Most often, the beholder merely skims my mind, and I translate.”

Her eyes widened and she whipped her head back to face me.

“What did you discuss?!”

I raised my hands to reassure her. “Quadrum doesn’t want any of us coming down there or interacting with his area. He said he’s doing an important experiment and our proximity would disturb its results.”

Lady Shireen blinked rapidly, still rubbing at her throat. But she visibly calmed.

“Thank you, Tyson,” the dark elf said suddenly. She wrapped her kimono around herself tighter and turned to leave.

“Another time then,” I said after her. Lady Shireen turned and shined her glowing red eyes at me, before she whipped down the stairs without a response.

The highwater blaster was right where I had left it, propped against the wall, and I grabbed it up to sling across my bare chest, thinking about my close call with the dark elf.

Something just told me that the relationship between her crowd of elves and the rest of my affiliate would be significantly different once she tried, and failed, to kill me post coitus. Now that Quadrum seemed to want them gone, I couldn’t imagine a peaceful outcome between us.

Anytime Taytrinn came onto me, all I could think about was Molls. Especially now that I knew how she felt about me. I shook my head clear of it and went back downstairs to find a babysitter for Cube.

I was about to call Rayna to send a hobb, when a thought struck me, and I called Axle instead.

When he answered, I smiled briefly and turned the camera to show Cube. “I was hoping you had some insight on how to take care of this thing. Right now, I need to leave, and the little guy seems to freak out when I do.”

Jada’s face pushed into the camera on the other side, and Axle shifted the camera to make room. She exited the camera, trailing a bra with six cups behind her. I heard her in the background say, “I’ll be there in a few minutes, I want to meet it.”

Axle nodded and shrugged. He moved and I saw that they had both been in bed. Of course. This place was turning into a home, people were going to have sex at home. Again, a thought of Molls crossed my mind, but then he was speaking, and I refocused.

“She was mad about the beholder, but almost as excited about meeting a Cube.” I heard the door of his hut slam, and he chuckled. “Very excited. She should be there soon. I’ll be working on getting the electricity up and running soon, so I’ll be there shortly as well.”

“You guys had a break, but do feel free to actually rest as well, at some point,” I said.

He blinked at me and nodded. “Jada will be getting some sleep soon. She plans to join you on your raid tomorrow. There was some bad blood between her and the militia when we worked for Dearth.”

I nodded. “Okay, sounds good to me. You don’t mind me taking her into a possible battle?”

Axle laughed, deep in his chest. “She thinks it will be a battle. That is why she is going with.”

He shrugged and sighed.

“I fell in love with a warrior. I could never try to take that from her just because I fear losing her in battle. She is not mine to lose, but her own. I take great pleasure in every moment of her unique life that she chooses to spend at my side.”

My eyes widened and I shook my head, blinking in surprise. “Damn. That was wise.”

Axle shrugged and smiled at me in the camera. “That’s my job.”

Chapter 36

I chuckled and we both hung up our phones. Good timing as well, because Jada burst in the side door, panting.

“Where is it?”

I frowned. “He is right in front of you.” I pointed to the little metal block on the raised platform.

The Knowle squealed and clasped her paws, taking a few steps closer. Her nuzzle reached right down next to Cube, and she sniffed deeply.

“Hello little one!” Jada’s head cocked to the side, and she sniffed the little metal box again. Cube shuffled in his seat, turning to face her more fully.

She reached a claw out to scratch his surface, and he began purring. Maybe he just hated being picked up?

Jada reached both hands to the little box and lifted it, bed and all, from the stand. The purring increased. Okay, good to know, it was just me.

I became irritated and frowned. “Well, you guys seem to be getting along. I’m gonna take off, we need things.”

“Things, yes,” Jada replied. When I glanced back at her, she was staring at the infant Cube in her paws, and not paying attention to me in the slightest. I chuckled, secured my helmet, and left the house.

On my way past Phyllis’ place, I saw Molls by her side. The women were having some tea, and Phyllis was chatting away. Molls mostly sat and sipped at her tea, with the occasional nod. I purposefully kept my presence from their attention, walking on the far side of the road and not pausing on my way by.

Rayna was slumped on a bench, with Tollya sitting next to her. Tollya was rubbing Rayna’s back, but quickly stopped when she noticed me approaching. Rayna’s attitude also shifted, she straightened and met my eyes with a nod.

“Yeah, Tyson?” The tall hobb woman asked.

“I’m sorry to keep bothering you today, Rayna, but we need to talk about the raid. I want to do it soon, we need to neuter the militia as fast as we can,” I said, sitting down across from the women.

“Neuter?” Tollya scowled.

Rayna smiled, a grim chuckle slipping past her lips. “Means remove balls.”

Tollya started smiling too, a wide grin forming on her features. “I like this word.”

I chuckled with the hobbs and raised my hands. “I’m not here to take up a bunch of your time, I just need to let you know where we are. Right now, Darclau is in the air scouting the militia’s base. I think. We’ll find out when he gets back. I’m also going to go talk to Lee again, at Sundew Valley Foods. He has a pretty comprehensive map of the area; he might know more.”

Rayna nodded along as I spoke, and Tollya watched the surrounding area with sharp eyes. She was listening too, I knew, but she was primarily watching out for that sneaky dark elf.

“We should hit them soon,” Rayna grunted.

“Tomorrow, early. If we can move with yarsps in the area, I want to hit them just before dawn. Sunrise is brutal in the desert; we can use it to our advantage if it comes to a firefight.”

She nodded. “Sound good. I’ll have hobbs ready.”

I nodded back. “Okay, thank you. I’m heading out, gotta make that food run. I might be gone a while. It sounds like they have trouble at Sundew Valley. I want to try and help. That’s our food source, after all.”

Rayna stood and stretched. “We keep camp safe.”

I waved as I moved away from the table toward the pickup truck. It was still warm from the long sunny day, and I happily got in the cab and started it. Noticing the missing driver's side door, I instead chose to securely buckle my seatbelt. That felt just as safe, and I drove the beat-to-hell truck out of the campground gates.

Thankfully, the drive was peaceful. I needed some quiet and was happy to soak it up. I did keep my eyes on the distant tree line and surrounding desert as I drove, but the experience was primarily stress-free.

When I arrived at Sundew Valley Foods, Lee himself opened the gate for me. As I pulled in the truck and parked it, I noticed the hobb mercenaries were all gone. Lee and Suzanne’s regular crowd of workers and neighbors came out to fill my truck, and I took off my helmet to speak with Lee.

He led me away from the crowd, and up onto the wall. “I’m concerned, Tyson. Need to know if that offer of housing everyone here was serious.”

“As a heart attack,” I shot back immediately. “We have the space. That’s one thing we have plenty of.”

I sighed and rubbed a hand over my forehead.

“And after today, we have more than that. It wouldn’t be what you’ve got here, but I can get some basic shelters whipped up so every family or group can have their own space.”

“And I’m guessin’ you’d be happy to get our growers too,” Lee grumped.

“I wouldn’t ask any of them to do anything they’re uncomfortable with, you included. But yes, damn could I use a good food growing operation right now.”

I stopped walking and leaned on the edge of the wall’s defensive fencing. “Our population has spiked, I think we have to be closing in on a hundred people.”

“That’s good. Really good.” He leaned on the wall next to me and stared at the ground for a long moment.

“Our hobbs abandoned us,” Lee finally sighed. “They told us we had twenty-four hours to renegotiate our contract when it was actually twelve, and they took off when the twelve was up, all of 'em all at once.”

“You guys are fairly flush, no? Should be able to hire more.” I looked up at him, a frown of confusion on my face.

“I tried that, the service claims it's processing my request, even though I put it through with an urgent tag.” He puffed out his cheeks and pushed off the wall.

“Feels like a stall. Don’t rightly know what to do, Tyson. My people aren’t fighters. Hell, doubt I’m much of one anymore.”

“Let me call my guy real quick,” I said, digging for my phone. When I pulled it up, I noticed my statistics tracking app had shut down its widget, with a little notification waiting for me to watch an ad before I could use it again.

My three days of free use must have run out.

I ignored it and called Axle. The Knowle answered after a few seconds.

“Hey, Axle, real quick question.” I glanced at Lee and saw him staring at the furry visage in my phone.

“Yeah,” the Knowle nodded.

“Is there any reason BuyMortMercMart would ignore or delay an incoming customer request?” I watched his expression as it went through a few phases.

First confusion, then his ears perked up, and finally his visage fell.

“Yes. It is rumored that BuyMortMercMart plays favorites for morties. Bigger affiliates have an easier time getting mercenaries because they often pay for far larger contracts. That much is normal business, but I have heard of conflicting affiliates having their requests ignored, if a larger affiliate is planning to hit them,” he finished.

“Okay, that’s what I was afraid of, thank you. Any chance we can spare some of our own troops to guard Sundew Valley for a bit?” I asked offhandedly, already sure of the answer.

Axle shook his head. “I can ask, but I doubt Rayna would be willing to spread her people that much thinner. She was just here a few minutes ago, lamenting the lack of soldiers she has to field. We need more weapons, first, I think.”

“That’s what I thought, Axle, thank you. I’ll be back later, might be coming with more people.”

“We still have plenty of tents available, and a few huts remain empty.” The Knowle smiled, baring his sharp teeth. “More hands is less work for us all.”

I nodded at him and hung up, turning back to Lee. “Well, at the very least we can evacuate your people. I’ll be happy to put in an order for mercs, maybe mine won’t get ignored. Then I can just assign them your usual detail and we can work out the cost in food. I was also hoping to get another look at that map of yours, maybe pick your brain on these militia clowns a little more.”

“Oh my, would you? That would be excellent.” Lee took a deep breath and let it out past his mustache.

“I’ve been worried about what to do. Most of my people won’t take kindly to the thought of leaving, but we’re damn near over-run every day with those giant wasps. They climb right up our walls, cause of all the damn tires. Without our hobbs to fend ‘em off…” he finished with a shrug.

“Don’t worry about it, Lee, we’ll figure it out.”

I already had BuyMort up and was scanning through BuyMortMercMart. When I tried to place an order for mercenaries, I received a strange message on a popup screen.

BuyMortMercMart is having an unusual amount of requests for that service area. Please wait for assistance with your order. An associate will be with you soon.

I relayed the information to Lee, and his jawline tightened.

“As I understand it, the only part of mercenary contracts that BuyMort is privy to is the money and initial meetings through its interface. But the merc companies themselves take or reject contracts as desired.”

“That sounds an awful lot like you’re about to get hit, Lee.” I paused to look around at the growing dark of night around us. The desert was silent beyond the walls.

Lee followed my gaze and frowned as he stared out over the walls. “I never thought to leave my own home, but I have to agree with you. I’ll talk to Suzanne about it, follow me. You can have your time with my map, and I’ll be happy to tell you what I know.”

I followed him back down from the walls and into his place, where he showed me to his study and left me to go speak with Suzanne. While I unfolded the map he provided me, I took a moment to appreciate the trust he had shown me, leaving me alone around his books.

While they spoke in the next room, I used my helmet to take several pictures of the map. The helmet itself was capable of storing them, and I no longer needed to increase my impending phone bill for the sake of taking a picture.

The information I could glean from the map was limited. It said the militia headquarters was located at an old mine on the outskirts of Prescott. There was some limited scale information, in regard to how much territory the mine covered, but that was it. Nothing else of value to be had, just a red dot on an old man’s map with a note.

I sat down and waited for him to come get me. When he entered the room to see me sitting in his chair, his mustache twitched. I got up and offered it to him and he smiled. I moved around the desk and sat back down as he got into his chair and got comfortable.

I had put the helmet on to take my pictures of the map, and I decided to keep it in place for the next part of my planned conversation with Lee.

“Hey, I was just wondering. You didn’t happen to bug our compound, did you?” I asked, innocently.

Lee’s eyes snapped up to my helmet, but he looked away instead of staring at his own reflection. “Thought you might ask that. Yup, sure did.”

I nodded. “Oh. Okay. Can I ask why?”

Lee finished folding his map and tucked it into the drawer at his side. “I need to know who I can trust, and how, Tyson. I need information, and I need it as quickly as I can get it. That’s how this works. We learn everything we can, as fast as we can, or we die.”

He finished his sentence and sucked on a tooth for a few seconds before nodding. “Yep, that’s the long and short of it. I won’t bother apologizing, I think you know it would be meaningless prattle.”

I nodded again, this time removing my helmet and setting it down on the desk between us. “Understood. I’ll be happy to be straightforward with you, Lee.”

The old man’s mustache shifted again, and he clasped his hands over his belly. “Will you now? Well, that’s good, I thought for sure you’d be mad with us, our signal cut out earlier today. This afternoon, in fact, a few hours before you called.”

Lee tapped his thumbs together and stared at me for a moment before chuckling. “You ever gonna make a move on that priest of yours? I been wondering about that for a couple days now.”

I snorted, then smiled. “Let you know when I figure that one out. Wow, whatever bug you’re using is effective.”

“Was using. Tyson, I’ll be straightforward with you, in exchange,” he leaned back and kept eye contact with me.

“I trust you, a great deal already. Seem like a decent fella. But learning about you from you and learning about you when you’re not aware I’m learning about you are two different things entirely. I did what I had to, to learn about who our only ally really is.”

“I understand. I don’t know that I particularly condone or condemn it, but I understand.”

“Information warfare is like that, I’m afraid. If your feelings are hurt, I suppose I might apologize after all, on reality's behalf, if not my own,” he said.

I smiled at him and snorted a laugh. “You’d do it again in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you?”

“Already am.” He grinned in return. “Been looking for a new connection since mine died today.”

“Well, just don’t try and take over or anything.” I chuckled. “Please.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, not my forte,” he said, sitting forward.

“You got anything on Dearth, or the militia, to share?” I asked the question with a smile, but in a serious tone of voice.

“Oh course, the location. They both sweep for bugs though, so the cheapies I bought didn’t work on them. Think Dearth mighta tipped off the militia, since I put ‘em in the food. Dearth’s bugs went down the instant they got into place. All I got was the location. Militia ordered a day later, and the same thing happened,” he reported.

“Can’t imagine those fellas thought to sweep for ‘em themselves.”

“Darn. I’m thinking about hitting them soon, we need more weaponry, and those idiots are sure to have a lot,” I casually said.

Lee blinked a few times and nodded. “There’s a joke they like to tell, I heard it many a time before all this went down. One of ‘em came to the local town hall meeting to tell it, even, when I was trying to first get this land to build on.” He paused and cleared his throat, sitting forward.

“If given a choice between a can of beans, or a gun, they would take the gun. That way they’d have a gun, and a can of beans, they said. Then they laughed and laughed. Never did manage to get that out of my head, their laughter. Suppose I can’t muster much sympathy for em. Do your worst, won’t change things between us none.”

I nodded, slowly. “Appreciate it, Lee. I don’t much like the thought of what’s likely to happen, but they seem dead set on killing me if I don’t.”

“And they’ll come for my can of beans one day soon if’n you don’t shuffle ‘em loose. Hell, the loss of our hobbs might even be them making their move. Hard to suss out from here.” He let out a big gusty sigh and shrugged.

In the silence that filled the next few minutes, a fireball suddenly bloomed behind Lee, through the window. The explosion’s shockwave struck us instantly, blowing in the window and causing Lee to duck in his seat.

Shards of glass sunk into the back of his chair and flew past to strike the table and my exposed torso. One of them shattered off the starfish suit, but a few good-sized ones made it into my ribs.

Lee’s eyes went wide as I sighed and stood up, pulling one of the shards out myself. The suit deployed tendrils for the rest, and Lee stared with wide eyes as the Starfish suit went to work. Flesh foam filled in the small wounds, and lasers seared everything back to how it should be.

I quickly reached for my helmet and slipped it on.

I crushed the large shard in my hand, and my cartoon starfish danced into view, on the desk. “Oooh, thank you user, good charge!” I ignored it.

“Suzanne!” Lee suddenly exclaimed. He jumped up and crunched across the broken glass to the door behind me.

He opened it and shouted her name down the hallway, as another blast went off, near the same area. This one was closer to us though, and I took the brunt of what came through the window. Shards of wood and glass tore free from the wall behind us and ripped into my back. I grunted and took it as I covered Lee. The suit would fix me.

Suzanne’s voice rang down the hallway. She sounded distressed but unhurt, and Lee turned to stare at me. I doubled over at the waist, burning wood and more glass embedded in my back. He jumped when he saw me, and his eyes bugged wide.

“I’ll be fine, go,” I rasped, waving a hand at him. I found more glass to break as the starfish suit did its work, and the cartoon danced vigorously on the desk.

I narrowed my eyes and glared at it through the haze of painkiller. “What are you?”

“I’m your starfish suit interface of course! I let you know when you need a charge and answer any user questions about functionality. You turned off cranial repair function using me a couple of days ago, user, don’t you remember? Perhaps you should turn it back on.”

Lee was back behind me before I could answer the cartoon. He gaped. “They blew our wall. The northern wall is breached in two places.”

My tendrils yanked out the last bit of burning wall and I straightened up my back to face him. “I’m coming, just go.”

Chapter 37

He nodded and left, and Suzanne approached behind him. She took in my still healing back and shook her head.

“Oh, you poor thing!”

She stopped and looked at the room, riddled with debris, and the clear space in front of the door. She pointed at where Lee had gone, then traced her finger back to the doorway and looked up at me, before glancing behind me to the torn-out wall and window.

“Thank you, Tyson,” she whispered.

I nodded. She grabbed my arm and hauled me after Lee. We stopped at a hallway closet, and she reached in to grab a jacket for me. I thanked her and shouldered into it as we passed through the greenhouse, its windows all shattered. Several of the mango trees on the north side were partially torn out of their loam, and we ran carefully to avoid the larger shards of glass.

Lee approached from the north side of the compound, waving his arms at us, and shouting, “Get back! Get back!”

He ran up to us and grabbed Suzanne by the elbow. Together, they started moving south, down toward the main gate. I headed north, toward the two flaming holes in Sundew Valley’s walls.

I ran toward the closest of the two, which had destroyed an Earthship structure when it blew outward. The house had been two levels, but the upstairs had collapsed and crushed part of the first floor.

Beyond the blasted structure, I could see the hover tank. They were alone, without any of the other vehicles nearby, and I ran toward the hole in the wall. I exited Lee’s compound just as another shell went off behind me, and I stumbled from the brief shockwave.

The rest of the house was in rubble, and a massive hole in the wall facing the forest had opened.

I took it in at a glance, continuing my run and summoning forth my new atomic breaker gauntlets. The dimensional gateways embedded in my forearms deployed armor sheets, and my hands were encased in metal up to the elbows.

I pumped my legs and sprinted across the desert for the hovering tank. It was impossible to be certain, but I felt like I was running faster than I could have before, and the pace felt easy to keep up. My crystalline colonies must have been spreading.

The boxy vessel was slowly turning away, its turret returning to a neutral, front position.

Its job was done.

All Dearth had to kill Sundew was deny them their mercs and their priest. This thing had been sent to punch a hole in the wall and make sure the yarsps did their dirty work for them.

The tank was only a few hundred yards out from the compound, and someone on board must have seen me coming. Its sleek metal boxy exterior opened, and a secondary gun barrel appeared. The gunner opened fire immediately, sending blasts of explosive metal at me.

I dropped sideways in shock. A few had sunk into my left side and activated the suit’s pain killer response.

My helmet blared a warning and tracked the streaks of incoming fire as the suit deployed dozens of tendrils to work on me. I got back to my feet, just as the gunner adjusted the coaxial weapon’s aim.

Flak started to hit me more fully.

The rounds exploded directly in front of me, sending chunks of burning shrapnel into my torso. I reflexively covered the area with my gauntlets and kept running.

My helmet rattled and flickered, but held up under the onslaught, and I ran directly toward the red warning lights it showed me. Painkiller filled my body, and I grinned as I charged.

The tank started to accelerate away as I finished crossing the distance, but it was far too late. I sprinted directly into the machine gun nest and activated my gauntlet as I slammed my fist into the armor plating.

Blue light erupted from my knuckles and rocked through the tank as my fist plunged into the metal. An entire portion of the metal body’s structure collapsed, and shards of broken metal cascaded around my shoulder.

The burst of light from my knuckles remained in the air. It swirled like dust motes around my gauntlets and was sucked slowly inside of them. The starfish cartoon gasped and gyrated even harder, pleased with the huge amount of charge.

My entire arm had sunk into the vehicle. I pulled it back, and metal fragments rained from the hole. There was a fine powder of metal dust embedded in my knuckles as well.

The tank continued its turn, but with a quarter of its front end had caved in and dragging on the ground, the vehicle suddenly moved much slower.

The main turret swung toward me, and I heard a hatch pop open on top. I ignored the turret and slammed my other fist into the tank, activating my power blow ability in addition to the gauntlet.

With a scream of twisting metal and a small explosion of blue light, the tank sailed in the air away from me before landing in a nearby embankment with a blast of sand.

I ran to it again and slammed my right gauntlet into a patch that wasn’t demolished, activating my power blow ability and atomic breaker gauntlet with a thought. The tank crushed in the center like an aluminum can, slamming further down into the Arizona desert.

The turret started to swing toward me again, with a terribly pained scream of machinery. I ran to stay out of its firing range and leapt up onto the crushed tank.

The hatch was still open, but a dead hobb blocked it. He had apparently been attempting to leave when I crushed the central portion and was now lodged permanently in place.

I jumped down to the turret at the front of the tank and slammed both fists into the top of it, where it connected to the tank body, activating my breaker gauntlets again. My right gauntlet used its last charge, and the shockwave of blue light knocked me off my feet.

I fell off the tank down the other side of the embankment it was lodged in and tumbled to a sliding stop in a pile of sand.

The landing knocked the wind out of me, and I didn’t bother trying to get up while I recovered. The tank was crushed. I could hear an engine still trying to engage, but it was buried, and did nothing but throw up a spout of dirt and stones.

I panted in the dirt for a couple of minutes. The suit wrapped up its repairs, I was reminded of how much I wanted that armor plating upgrade, and the cartoon starfish went away after giving me a quick salute.

My suit was fully charged.

An explosion from the tank got my attention, and I scrambled to my feet to move further behind cover. I was tired of shrapnel injuries, they hurt a lot. Another, larger, explosion buffeted over me before I peeked out of cover to look up the small hillside.

The tank had blown its top clear off. I guessed a munition had set a fire that got into the fuel, based on how much flaming slick was everywhere.

I pointed at the wreck and said, “I’d like to sell that, BuyMort, directly to the Dearth Conglomerate, Arizona board. Set up a sale page. Make the price five million morties.”

An affiliate sale page arose, and the details filled themselves in. The status at the bottom read: pending, and I chuckled as I watched it click over to: confirmed.

The affiliate distributed the morties, and I got a pittance to work with from it, but the goal had been to insult Dearth. I wondered if the idiots even knew it was their own tank, I was selling back to them, or if they thought it was just another piece of salvage to work.

Either way, they were good at making it profitable to beat up on them.

I passed the incoming pick-up pod as I walked back to Lee’s compound, after dismissing my gauntlets. They slid away into their dimensional gateways, which retracted into place under my skin. Only a thin line of metal remained.

As I approached the compound through the desert, I watched the flames flickering on what was left of Lee’s neighbor. The home had been destroyed entirely, struck by two direct hits when one was more than enough. It was a blasted crater, with flaming debris scattered across the entire compound.

I heard Lee organizing his people as I approached. They were all working, scrambling at the rubble of the house, and as I approached, I saw why. Two bodies had been pulled out of the wreckage and covered with thin sheets. One of them had soaked the sheet through already.

“Keep digging, we don’t leave her until we know for sure!” Lee shouted.

I joined in the work, helping heave aside larger pieces of rubble and using my newly enhanced physical strength to quicken the process.

After half an hour we found her, buried at the bottom back corner. She had been dead before the third shell hit, crushed by a structural support wall. When I saw the girl's face, I recognized the group from that morning.

The older couple and young girl had eaten breakfast together, as part of the morning work crew. I had wondered at their dynamic, and how a family like theirs had come to live out in the middle of the Arizona desert.

Instead of getting to learn the answers to any of my questions, I helped her neighbors and friends lay her body out beside the other two they had already uncovered.

Lee sat on a bench nearby, leaning heavily on his own knees with both hands and staring at nothing as his mustache occasionally twitched. Suzanne stayed nearby, but she took over organizing for him and got the other people moving to put out the small fires that were still burning all over the compound.

I walked over to Lee and sat down beside him, removing my helmet.

“It was Dearth’s tank. I’ve seen it at my place a few times now.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry Lee. I took care of the tank at least.”

He nodded. “I saw. Thank you for helping dig out the young one, Tyson. We couldn’t leave here without knowing.”

I shrugged. “I could call out a construction crew, get you a new wall built up before dawn.”

“We don’t have that long, they come out in the wee hours.” Lee shook his head, taking a deep breath and standing up.

“We need to get as much of our growing operation mobile as we can and get behind your walls and priest. We don’t have the manpower to fend off the damned wasps when they come.”

He growled and shook his head again. “They did this on purpose. The wasps only eat meat. Dearth wants our growing operation.”

I nodded and stayed seated. “Yeah. They have an entire research and development department. Probably reverse engineer your grow, then do it themselves. I bet they have buy-orders for these greenhouses just waiting if you try to sell too.”

Lee’s mustaches drooped, and it took me a minute to realize he was snarling, as his eyebrows peaked in anger. “We take everything we can and burn the rest to spite them.”

He turned back and met my eyes. “You’re going to take this company down, aren’t you?”

I blinked a few times and sighed. “It’s starting to look like that’s my only option if I want to survive, yeah.”

Lee stuck out his hand. “I’m retired CIA, I’ll help. We’re good at destabilizing large organizations.”

That raised my eyebrows, and I stared up at the man before I could think of an answer. “Thanks Lee. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing yet, but I damn sure appreciate the aid.”

“I’ll set you on the right path. You said there’s facilities for my people? Housing?” The older man crossed his arms and met my gaze.

“Yeah. We have an entire wing of our underground area you can use for growing. It comes equipped with pipes and wiring, everything we should need to be able to get you guys up and running fast, with whatever we can haul out from here. Plus, there’s housing galore. Both aboveground, and below.”

I took a breath and stood up.

“There’s just some unwelcome guests to be dealt with first.”

Lee scowled and shrugged. “Right. Well, I’m going to organize my people here. If we work through the night, we should be able to transplant a great deal of crop to your place before the wasps come out.”

I stood, brushing my filthy hands on my pants. “And I should get back, get that part of things rolling. I might be able to round up some volunteers to help.”

He nodded, taking a couple of steps toward his group.

“Hey, Lee,” I started. He stopped and turned back to look at me. “I’m sorry about your people.”

Lee stared at me for a long moment before answering. When he did, he took a deep breath first.

“They’re your people now, Tyson. Do your best not to let any more of 'em die, like I did. All I ask.”

Chapter 38

I nodded, and Lee left. As I let myself out of the front gate, truck full of unpaid groceries humming onto the road, I thought about what he had said.

The Sleem, Dearth, the damned yarsps, the miserable Arms Keepers militia, the delves in my basement, even Mr. Sada. We were surrounded by existential threats on all sides, and I still hadn’t managed to wrap my head around it.

But that didn’t matter. Couldn’t matter. Lee said it best, I was responsible for all their lives now.

Being the manager of a Nu-Earth affiliate was a far different beast than being the manager of a run-down campground in the middle of nowhere.

If Lee had been listening to us, I had to assume that Dearth had been too. Maybe even the militia, though I rather seriously doubted those fellas valued operational intelligence, just based on the way they had operated so far. Still, every single one of our enemies knew we were weak.

Exposed and vulnerable with weak leadership, and so much petty internal drama clogging up our survival instincts that we had made ourselves a giant target.

That ended, or we did. We’d been lucky to date, me in particular. I had a suit that let me survive my fuckups, and those were still plentiful.

But I had my violence back. The one thing I was good at naturally, the one thing that came easy to me.

Violence never solves any problems, they told me. They lied. Violence does solve problems. It’s just a really bad tool to rely on for the task, as it has this unfortunate habit of making more problems than it solves.

What they should say is that violence compounds problems, but most of us are too stupid to understand what ‘compounds’ even means, so they lie to us instead.

Still, it solved that vein-scorpion problem pretty easily. Once I started smashing, that first problem went away fast, just like the tank.

Ignoring the fact that violence against a pod had caused that problem in the first place was easy, if I only chose to focus on the problem that got solved after the fact.

The first mistake I shouldn’t have survived.

As I drove, I thought hard. I focused on our problems and started thinking of solutions to them. I spun through each of them.

Dearth had sent a tank, and I had smashed it. Knowing that I could smash their tanks and survive being shot with explosive shrapnel while doing it, helped empower me toward a solution.

I would just go smash Dearth, before they could come smash us.

The Sleem I felt I had handled. For the moment, anyway. Hopefully, Axle would have power up and running by now, and the farm would be producing.

We needed sales, to get us more refrigeration units, to get us more sales. The more equipment and tools I could afford, the safer everyone would become.

That led my mind to the militia. I had known these morons before BuyMort. They were regulars and came out to the campground for weekend trips.

Brought in brothers from all over the state to drink shitty beer, shoot hand built targets in the desert south of the campground, and race ATVs all over the place until somebody ended up in the emergency room.

Yeah, the more I thought about them, the less of a problem I had with killing these guys.

Taking the contents of their armory would equip my people quickly, and without expending any morties. I just hoped I could do it without spending any of my own people’s lives as well.

I smiled as I thought of a distraction that Phyllis and I could make entirely impossible to ignore. She used to get a special gleam in her eyes when the militia came to camp.

The yarsps I would have to deal with soon, but the instant I did it meant Dearth was free to use the main highway and roll more armor down on top of us.

The vibrations in the ground must be what attracts the yarsps, I realized, which was why the hover tank had been used, and had been alone.

I wanted to try and control the moment Dearth came for us, and now that Lee and his people were moving in behind our more secure walls, yarsps were something I expected we could just hold off easily.

Also, being edible was a silver lining. I hesitated to cut off our only ready meat supply just because it was scheduled to attack us every morning.

I thought about the faction of delves in our basement as I drove through the desert. Based on the way Rayna reacted to them, and their own interactions with my people and myself, I knew there was only one way they would leave us in peace.

Taytrinn’s reaction to Quadrum taking her over by force in order to speak had me thinking she was now suspicious of us. Of what was about to occur.

My final subject for contemplation was Mr. Sada. He had become a massive threat, obviously. The conversation with him about the drill bit, and the workers he would have condemned to Storage was hard to get out of my mind.

He even mocked me for trying to remind him of our partnership. That shit wasn’t going to fly. It couldn’t. There was too much at stake.

I thought about what came next. About what would have to happen.

Dearth would offer him another buyout. This time it would be significant. They had paid an eleven million mortie ransom at the drop of a hat and hadn’t hesitated to buy back their own scrap for another five million.

I had meant it as an insult, but it taught me something important about my enemy. This affiliate could throw around their wealth, and I had no doubt that Mr. Sada would not be able to resist it.

There was only one answer to the problem. The ship was unrealistic, we could never have fixed it up in time to prevent him from doing something else that hurt us. And now that I had sold it, we didn’t even have a place to start from with that plan.

There were axes hanging over my head, several of them. The one I felt the most pressure from, was Mr. Sada, without doubt. With a shaking breath, the realization that I would have to kill him sunk into me.

The road was quiet, and I needed to think about literally anything else, so I pulled up my statistics app to watch my racist ad and get my numbers back. I knew I should just replace the terrible thing, but I also wanted to know how bad the racism was before just deleting it.

A morbid curiosity about what Molls experienced.

Plus, I had a scrambling feeling in my chest that I needed to check the number of remaining humans on Nu-Earth.

The ad sprang up on a small screen in my vision, which I was able to swipe to the bottom right of my peripheral vision. It was worse than I had expected. A lot of full nudity, which was a surprise.

Both male and female, all Nah’gh, of course.

More than one of them had Molls’ condition, where they were oversized, with extra-long tails, and pearlescent white scales.

Surprisingly, when males had this condition, it regularly resulted in dual penises. They were called Conda Retrogrades by the ad’s ‘doctor,’ and Conda was a commonly used abbreviation.

Most of the ad was an oversexualized mess, but two points stood out to me due to repetition.

The ad called the Nah’gh dangerous, and it debased them through sexual representation. Two clear signs the information was untrustworthy.

The only point the ad seemed to be trying to make was that because of their sex slave origins, and the genetic manipulation done to their ancestors, all Nah’gh were inherently untrustworthy.

Criminal by birth, it called them.

I shook my head and happily swiped the video closed as it ended, a clash of music and flags revealing a human faction standing side by side with an elven faction. Both shook hands over a slumped Nah’gh on the ground between them, blood seeping from the snake-persons lips and nostrils.

The ad faded and my app started working again, revealing that the remaining population of natural Nu-Earthers was down to only nine-hundred million and change. I cringed and swiped the app away, sending it to my deletion area, a small garbage can in the corner.

I could find something else, something that didn’t aid a hyper racist group like whoever those humans and elves were.

It was a bummer, I thought, as I waited for the campground’s gate to open and let me in. Here I was finding elves finally, and they were all a bunch of dickheads so far. Except for Specter, he seemed okay.

I sighed and went to find my hobbs. I needed to warn everyone of what was about to happen.

Rayna was with Tollya in the dwelling they shared with two other family units. They had wisely taken the hut nearest the parking lot. It was very central to the entire campground.

Before I had even left the truck’s proximity, several hobbs and a couple of nearby humans walked over to help unload. A trail of them soon led to the storage barn.

“Make space in the cold storage, pack this stuff in. Make sure nothing that doesn’t need cold storage gets into cold storage. There’s more coming,” I told them. Each of them nodded, and I approached Rayna’s hut.

I knocked lightly on the door, standing with my hands behind my back until it swung open. Tollya stood in the doorway, a pair of boxer shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt covering her form. She yawned and turned aside, gesturing for me to come in.

“Hi, I’m sorry. I probably woke you all,” I said with a small cringe.

Rayna exited one of the side rooms, brushing aside a privacy curtain. It looked like it was made from thick sheets of plastic, but each was colorful and covered with eye-pleasing designs.

“Is okay. Hobbs can get by on very little sleep. You should get some when you can though, you look tired,” Rayna finished by lifting her chin at me.

She was wearing an outfit similar to Tollya’s, and I assumed they had found some bargain on sleeping clothes from Nu-Earth raiders like we had done with our furniture.

“Well, I need some well-rested hobbs.”

I slipped into a chair at the center of the hut, part of a circle of seating surrounding the main fireplace. It had been built fire pit-style in the center of the hut, to warm the entire structure as needed.

“We need to talk about multiple missions.”

“More missions?” she asked, sitting down opposite me. Her long legs crossed, and she stretched back in the chair with a yawn. “BlueCleave always ready.”

I believed her too, in spite of the yawn. “Okay good, cause I think you might like this one. We’re going to go kill all the delves in the residential wing before they can cause our affiliate any harm.”

Tollya had been rattling around behind the privacy curtain, and when she came out, I saw that she held three steaming mugs in her large hands. Her ears perked when she heard me say delves and kill in the same sentence, and she hurriedly set down the mugs in front of each of us before plopping into the seat beside Rayna.

“What about beholder?” she asked.

Rayna merely stared at me.

“The beholder asked me personally to free him from his delves. I don’t know what else that could mean, and it sounded like he’s just desperate to be left alone,” I started.

“The thing is even helpful to have around, and it seems like all we have to do is hide him here. The radiation he emits is not harmful to us, and is beneficial to the Sleem, as well as providing us cheap power through Cube. Plus, I think he killed a bunch of listening devices when he arrived.”

I finished with a shrug. “As far as I can tell, the only problem with the beholder so far is the delves that came with him.”

“And now that he’s expressly asked us to free him from them, I think a purge is in order.”

Chapter 39

Rayna nodded slowly, watching me as I spoke. When I finished, she shook her head. “Why decide kill them now?”

“You, Rayna. I didn’t see a way around the beholder before, but as soon as he requested freedom from them, the way forward became obvious. They’re going to start killing us sooner or later. That Taytrinn who leads them is clearly a black widow who wants to kill me,” I explained.

“As far as I can see, killing them is the only path to safety and freedom for my people, and our camp. The only way to keep my word to you, Rayna. Hobbs not expendable.”

She nodded. “Hobbs not expendable. Thank you, Tyson. I will prepare a squad.”

“Two squads, please. I want a forward group with me. We’ll be sneaking in; I know a hidden door that will deposit us in the middle of their territory. But we need a primary group to do a strike from the main entrance as well. While they engage the delves’s security forces, we can enter and cut the heads off their leadership.”

Tollya raised her hand. “I want be on that team.”

I nodded eagerly. “Good, I was hoping you would volunteer. I also want Jada, if she’s willing, and Ordo. I trust him to watch our backs, and he keeps his head when it gets rough.”

Tollya and Rayna both nodded. “Ordo good choice. Good soldier,” Rayna said. “I lead main attack force. We take elevators and stairs on both ends, drive them down while you attack from behind and thin their numbers. Our main job be to hold their attention.”

A whine from the door interrupted us, and I stood with a roll of my eyes. “Doofus, buddy, is that you? Where you been all day?”

When he came in, I noticed he was wearing some new colors. A series of colorful images was drawn across his body, using what looked like watercolor paints. The tufts of hair growing fresh from his naked skin carried color and patterns as well, mostly flowers and small wildlife, like rabbits or squirrels.

He appeared to be happy, wagging his tail as I let him in. He’d been hanging out with kids all day, by the look of him. That made sense, his original family had five. I was sure he missed them, even though he’d only been a puppy at the time.

Doofus immediately went to Tollya and Rayna, after brushing past my legs with a heavy lean.

“I guess Doof wants to come with,” I said with a smile. My initial instinct was to convince the dog to stay behind, but something happened that made me stop.

Tollya thumped her chest at Doofus, the same way she did to me. “His war-paint cute.”

She reached out and lightly scrubbed his head, right between his ears. The dog grunted and hefted himself into Tollya’s lap, flopping out and crushing her against the back of her chair in his quest for physical affection.

She laughed and grinned, stony teeth showing past her broad lips for the first time. Rayna chuckled too, leaning over to scratch Doofus’s chest. He sighed and thumped his tail at them.

“We are fortunate. Doofus led us to attempt rescue in the Sleem dungeon. He is a mighty warrior, without fear.” Tollya smiled gently as she spoke, reverently rubbing the over-sized dog in her lap.

“Yeah, that’s what worries me. He’s young and reckless.” I snapped my fingers and the malamute’s head shot up, fixated on me. “Hey, Doof. C’mere, I wanna talk to you.”

He grunted and got out of Tollya’s lap, much to her disappointment. With a sauntering gait, he walked around the firepit and sat down in front of me, tongue lolling as he stared at me.

“We’re going back underground, soon. If you come with me, we have to be as quiet as possible, for as long as possible. But I also want you wearing armor, do you have armor yet?” I thought of the rifles the delve security forces had been carrying.

Doofus stopped panting and paid close attention to me as I spoke, and when I was done, he thumped an oversized paw in my lap.

It shimmered where it touched me, and there was a slight field of static around the limb. I looked closer and saw another new attachment to his collar. A solid blue gem was seated in the center of a metal docking port. The port had intricate filigree that ran the length of the collar, and was attached to several other, smaller blue gems in docking ports.

The item covered his collar almost entirely but left areas open for attachments like his sonic weapon, which was nestled neatly at the front of the whole arrangement.

I patted his back and felt the light static push again, but as soon as my fingers slowed, the sensation did as well. There was a light feeling of static cling where my hand rested near his skin, but it wasn’t really present unless I moved.

Doofus had bought a movement activated electromagnetic shield. I briefly wondered how, and then noticed that his nails were all recently trimmed, to a professionally short level. Doofus used to hate getting groomed, but it looked like it was at least profitable for him.

I’d have to see about upping his salary on the affiliate page. However, the BuyMort app worked for him, he was a smart shopper and spent his morties well.

I patted his back twice, and he turned to go back to Rayna and Tollya.

“Good boy, Doof,” I muttered.

He wagged his tail at me, before leaning into the good scratching from his new friends. I realized again that I hadn’t seen Doofus since he left earlier in the day.

And when he left, he had been mildly wounded.

I smacked my own forehead, unable to believe I had forgotten to treat his glass wound. When I looked, it was clean, and had a small amount of clear, viscous material in it.

Somebody had taken care of the wound for me and looking at the way he interacted with the hobbs, I immediately figured they had helped.

It seemed like Doofus was hanging out with anyone he pleased, and with more and more people coming in, I liked the idea of him being around to keep an eye on the place. Doofus was a great judge of character and having him working with Rayna seemed like a good fit to me.

If I wanted to treat him like Axle had described, I was right to not limit his movements or interactions.

If he had been a smaller, or less capable dog, I would have been more concerned for his safety. But Doofus had been proving me wrong for thinking of him as lesser in any way, so I shrugged and trusted him.

“Okay, well, that’s the plan sorted. When do we actually do this thing?” I clapped my hands and sat back, noticing the mug Tollya had dropped off for me, and snatching it up to sample.

The liquid inside was hot, and thicker than I had been expecting it to be. It tasted faintly of coffee and chocolate and had a creamy texture and aftertaste. I immediately liked it and took a larger gulp.

Relaxation flowed into my veins from the drink, and I felt the crushing weight of my long, bad day start to lift somewhat. It was like coffee in that it helped sharpen my mind slightly, but it also caused deep relaxation and helped physically clear the stress from my body.

I happily took another large drink from the mug and set it back down on the edge of the fire-pit.

“Mmm, that is good. What is it?” I licked my lips and leaned back in my chair, enjoying the comforting warmth and relaxation spreading from my stomach.

Tollya nodded, raising her own mug. “Mush-bug tea.”

Rayna nodded and reached for her own mug. Both women took long sips as I stiffened.

“What’s a mush-bug?” I asked, jovially.

The nausea swimming up from my stomach didn’t need a visual to go along with what I was thinking, but my idiot mouth went looking for one anyway.

“Mush-bugs nice, good livestock crop. Not too aggressive, easy to handle. BuyMort only sends them against gobs, cause gobs are allergic to their squeezings,” Tollya said, slurping from her own mug. “Puts them to sleep. Just relaxing for everyone else.”

Rayna nodded and took a sip, before looking up to see my face. “Oh, mush-bug like . . . what you call them? Roly-Poly? But with big, spongy outer shell. If you squeeze them daily, it promotes good health and makes for nice drink.”

I vomited, stupidly aiming for the mug. It caught most of it, but the rest cascaded over the sides, and I ended up dropping the thing to shatter against the hardpacked earthen floor.

“Oh Pasta! Sorry,” I gasped, thinking of drinking pill bug fluids.

Tollya scowled in confusion, but Rayna nudged her and whispered something I couldn’t hear over the sound of my own gagging. I retched a couple more times, and straightened up, drool hanging from my lip.

They both giggled, pantomimed wriggling bugs to each other, then laughed some more.

“Ha ha, yuck it up,” I said.

“How you survive if you no eat bugs, Tyson?” Tollya asked with a straight face. “Weird.” She turned to look at Rayna, who blinked and nodded.

“Very weird,” Rayna agreed. I glared at my captain of the guard, but she shrugged and chuckled. “You thought it was good before you knew it was bug. This in your head.”

The hobb tapped her own temple, before draining the mush-bug drink in her mug and standing up. She moved into the other room, pushed past the privacy drapes, and rummaged around. When the tall hobb woman returned, she tossed a scrap of ratty towel across the fire pit to me.

I nodded and used it to wipe my face off, before getting to work cleaning up my mess. Rayna ignored my discomfort and continued with our meeting.

“Need more weapons before attack delves. Need more hobbs,” she said.

“I don’t get it. Why do we need so many hobbs to pull this off?” I asked, carefully depositing my used rag into the firepit.

“Need four hobbs for Sada’s compound, including his personal guard, Hord,” she raised a finger to signify those hobbs. “Need another twenty for this camp, to cover all walls. That not include the ten we use for daily patrols. Keep people safe from dream purchases and keep general peace.”

Rayna stopped and took a breath, staring at me across the firepit.

“That only one shift. We run three every day. Most hobbs fine with working extra, but we just no have enough for this kind of fight, while keeping camp safe at same time,” she finished “Just not enough weapons.”

“Getting expensive now too,” Tollya added.

I checked. The general page list for weapons sales in my area had been going up, at a surprising rate. What I paid for my enhanced shotgun earlier in the morning wouldn’t even cover a rusty Kalashnikov anymore, and the prices seemed to be getting higher and higher with each second I watched.

I frowned at the page. “That’s wild, I thought weapons were cheap right now because of how rich our world was with them.”

Tollya nodded. “Still are, some places. When big affiliates like Dearth have a conflict, they can alter prices in zones they control by buying and storing. This probably them.”

The metaphoric ax over my head slipped an inch closer to my neck, and I took a deep breath.

“Cheeze, what are they doing, buying every weapon in the southwest? Okay, we really need those militia guns then.”

Rayna nodded. “No raven-scout yet.” She shrugged again, and Tollya mimicked her.

“Okay, so we'll wait, for now,” I said. “Darclau will be back, I have faith. That bird is tougher than I thought at first.”

Rayna and Tollya both nodded, so I yawned and moved on to my other topic.

“I need some hobbs, and probably some people to go help Lee move. His people were attacked tonight, and they can’t stay there anymore. If I can round up some volunteers, will you help lead them to Sundew Valley Foods with some vehicles and help them get loaded up and moved over?”

Rayna stood with a nod. She went to another door in the unit and knocked lightly on it. When a hobb poked their head out, she conversed with them in their own guttural language while Tollya stared at me.

Tollya raised her chin at me when I focused back on her. “You should get some sleep, boss. You look tired.”

The mush-bug juice had sunk the concept of relaxation into my bones before I barfed it up, and I couldn’t help but nod at Tollya when she said it.

“I am tired. Right now, we have Lee’s people still coming in, and I should be helping them with their move.” I sighed and stood, turning toward the door. “I’ll try and get some volunteers, in spite of how late it is.”

She nodded slowly, watching me as I slid my helmet back on. Then she stood. “I help.”

With the tall hobb in tow, I left the hut and started walking down the line of huts. Most people were inside at that point, it was nearly ten-o-clock at night. Still, I knocked on each door and asked the occupants for any volunteers, after explaining our task.

The process took me until eleven at night, but I ended up getting a surprising amount of people and plenty of hobbs to help out. Rayna and Tollya managed to convince me to hang back and allow them to run the operation.

By eleven-fifteen, we had almost a dozen vehicles with room for cargo heading out in a convoy, bristling with armed guards led by Tollya.

Tollya shouted at me from the truck bed she rode in as the vehicle went past me, “Go get sleep!” and I waved dismissively at her.

Still, my eyes wandered to the storage barn. I had seen bedding in there earlier, when I went digging for my new oven, which was worthless. Another few minutes of digging around, and I had found a queen-size mattress and a massive comforter to spread out across it.

I think it was called a ‘duvet’ before the end of my civilization.

I was in the process of carrying my new bed up my road when Axle walked out of my house and waved. He was wearing heavy gloves and had an oversized ratcheting wrench in his paw.

“Hey boss! Got power hooked up.”

He pointed to a nearby thick cable jutting from the wall of my house and leading over the privacy hump toward Mr. Sada’s. “Sleem farm is running, should have enough for a sale soon.”

“That’s great Axle, thank you,” I mumbled as I trudged past. Cube looked happy, shifting around to face me as I entered. He purred while I dragged my cargo past. As I walked through the empty room behind him toward my spiral stairs, I noticed that someone had brought the oven back inside.

I dropped my cargo and leaned back to shout, “Axle?”

I grabbed the oven and propane tank, sniffing the air around them for leakage. I didn’t smell anything but started hauling the oven outside anyway.

“QUIET!” Cube roared.

I bit my tongue and continued hauling my broken oven outside. A light brightened inside Molls’ car, and I saw her crack a blind to peer at us. I waved.

“Sorry, Molls!” I whisper-shouted. Cube growled but didn’t shriek in protest that time. Axle appeared in the doorway behind me.

“Yes?” He whispered.

“Oh, good, sorry. I just. . . “ I pointed at the oven. “This thing was outside for a reason, it’s dangerous, it leaks.”

Axle nodded. “I know, I fixed it. It was quite simple, the connector you purchased is capable of directing the flow of gasses, so I customized it. The oven should operate, but as a low heat device. You’ll need to use a thermometer to be sure of any temperatures, but the connector is now synched to that dial, it will not leak when turned off.”

I stared. The new dial had a small wire running back to the pipe connection device I had purchased earlier in the day.

“Oh. Damn, that’s great. Thanks, Axle!” I offered my hand, and he looked down before smiling and grasping my forearm in his huge fuzzy paw.

Together, we hauled the oven back inside. It was decided that it should be in the room with Cube, where there was better ventilation, and I happily set a batch of fat to render in it before we finished. Axle helped with that too, by running to the storage barn and getting a pan that could hold the grease, and eventually seeds.

It was relatively easy, considering the basic nature of my setup. The yarsp fat had solidified but melted and rendered easily enough in my new low-heat oven. Once it was ready, I just dumped the whole thing in the pan and stirred the seeds to populate them throughout, leaving it to cool on the oven top.

Once it was done, Axle offered to help me get the mattress upstairs and I shook my head. “Thank you, but you can head home and get some rest. I appreciate all you’ve done today.”

He nodded and turned to leave before turning back. “You look exhausted, you should get some sleep.”

“There’s just so much to do, but I intend to. We have raids going on tomorrow, and I gotta try and get some rest before the yarsps come,” I said, shaking my head with a sigh.

“Jada informed me she would be joining you on two actions, yes. I wish you both good hunting, and you some rest, to be sharp for that hunting.”

He snapped his clawed fingers.

“If you give me directorial control for the Sleem farm, I can set an alarm to make the first sales, get that running.”

I hurriedly swiped through my affiliate screens and did as he asked. That sounded great, and Axle had more than earned my trust already. Once it was done, he confirmed the affiliate action, and turned to leave.

Once he was gone, I returned to the task of dragging my new mattress up the spiral staircase. It bent and twisted without the box spring, so all I had to do was keep dragging, even though it didn’t want to come up.

I flopped it on the floor of my bedroom, far enough away from the staircase hole that I wasn’t at risk of falling in and draped the entire thing in the duvet. Then I collapsed on the duvet and rolled myself in it like a burrito, before passing out on my own bicep.

Day five finally ended with me snoring.

Chapter 40 – Day 6

“Anthony!” A voice cut through the pleasant dream I had been having, dragging me from the scaled arms and coils I was wrapped in.

“Anthony! Why are all the towels dirty?” It rumbled across the campground, rattling the windows in my mud-crete house. I awoke fully and unrolled myself from the duvet, leaping to the window and gaping at what I saw.

“Anthony, I want a divorce!” The titan roared. A thirty-foot scale model of Mr. Sada’s dead wife’s upper half towered beside his mansion in the nearby distance. She was as I had found her in the basement bathroom, nude and half melted.

One arm was melted near the wrist, and more melting was apparent at her midsection, which truncated at the bellybutton. In the place of melted flesh or gore, great glops of heated clay ran from her elbow joint. The towering construction leaned with the bad joint on the surrounding mud-crete wall and used its good hand to point directly in the upstairs window.

Jumping out of bed, I grabbed my highwater blaster and a bandoleer of MIRV shells, as well as both of my blades.

I turned and threw open my bedroom doors, intending to just jump off the side of the building. I had fallen asleep in my Sleem-stomper boots and was ready to go, aside from some stiffness in my trousers that I assumed would wear off on the way over.

As the sleek, black BuyMort pod arrived on my balcony, I remembered the nature of my dream and groaned.

Therrize slithered out of the rainbow beam, smiling in recognition. She wore a tight leather miniskirt with a midriff revealing leather jacket, both in bright, candy-apple red.

“Oh, hi Tyson!” The scantily clad Nah’gh woman turned to glance at the towering vision of Mr. Sada’s nude dead wife, and her eyes shot comically wide. “Woah, what the hell is that thing?!”

“A dream storm!” I gasped. “I have to run; you can leave whenever. Sorry, Therrize!”

She nodded and slid back out of my way. Before I jumped off the roof, I saw the pod that had delivered my dream purchase on its way to deliver more. Down the row of huts it went, stopping at doors and beaming in various things. I heard screams as more people came awake, and more dream purchases began getting delivered.

Then suppressed gunfire, as a patrol of hobbs engaged with something inside the campground. I hesitated when I reached the end of my own road but sighed and turned to go deal with the situation at Mr. Sada’s. I had to trust that my hobbs could handle their work.

“I hate you Anthony!” The towering woman shrieked. “You never made me happy!” She shifted at the trunk, enormous clay breasts wobbling as she wound up and smacked the house. The top floor crushed under the blow, wood and glass flying into the air. With the fingers on her good hand, the towering clay golem sifted through the rubble.

“Where are you, Anthony? Don’t hide from me!” She roared, sweeping more rubble from the top floor across the road in front of me. I ran up the narrow corridor to Mr. Sada’s, avoiding the debris and dodging the bits of it still falling.

“Anthony!” She shrieked at the skies. It was a dead ringer for his wife’s voice too, I had heard her scream at him like this more than once.

Not usually while thirty feet high and made from mostly clay.

Metal limbs showed beneath some of the bigger portions of cracked or melted clay, and it was apparent this was another dream purchase from the bizarrely versatile CloneMort facilities. This time, with the huge fund he had available, it appeared BuyMort was able to bring his nightmare into scale.

I pushed open the metal gates to see a group of hobbs standing in a far corner, discussing something among themselves while gesturing to the large clay golem. As soon as one saw me, he waved me over. I had seen the hobb leading this group before but didn’t know their name yet.

“Boss! Boss, get clear.” The large, male hobb ran over and guided me to their corner. “It not care about us.”

“Why is nobody shooting at that thing?” I asked, glancing between the gathered hobbs.

“It clay, boss. Waste of bullets. We called for RPG, one coming,” the hobb who had grabbed me said.

“Anthony, stop hiding!” Clay Mrs. Sada bellowed. She moved her notice to the backyard, and I immediately thought of Drusk.

I left the hobbs to their huddle and started sprinting past the house to Drusk’s shed. The mordren was up, and outside of his shed. His guard hobb was trying to help the still drugged mordren away from the shed, and as I ran toward them, the giant clay golem smashed it immediately behind them with her good hand.

“Are you in there, Anthony?” She roared, grabbing up the flattened shed to look. When she didn’t find her husband beneath it, she shrieked in frustration at the sky.

“Stop hiding from me, Anthony! You’re not even a man, hiding from your own wife!”

That had to have been one hell of a nightmare.

I slipped in under Drusk’s other arm, trying to be careful not to jostle it. He leaned on me heavily though, so I just hefted and got him to walking. The golem didn’t notice or care about us at all, going back to sifting through the rubble of the second floor of Mr. Sada’s mansion.

When we came into view, the other hobbs all ran over to help, and we got Drusk to the gate. A single hobb was running down the road toward us as our group helped drag Drusk away. The new hobb was Ordo, and he was carrying our RPG launcher, with a bag of rockets.

He grinned as he saw me, and I held the gate open for him. As soon as he was in the driveway, he turned and hefted the launcher.

“Just blow up the big clay ones, boss. They go down easy,” he grunted. The hobb squeezed the trigger on his launcher, and the rocket sailed directly into Mrs. Sada’s armpit. Globs of clay blasted away, and the metal superstructure of the golem was revealed as the good arm screamed with metal fatigue and partially collapsed.

I nodded as Ordo crouched to reload. Then I hefted my highwater blaster shotgun and slipped a MIRV shell into its breach. I fired up at the golem, and my cluster bomb ripped away a portion of her face and neck.

More clay fell loose and slapped to the ground as she screamed in rage and shook her head. “Anthony you bastard! You won’t even protect your wife!”

She slammed her truncated wrist on the top of the ruined manor, crushing the back portion of the building entirely.

“What kind of man hides while his wife is attacked, Anthony!” the golem demanded.

I shook my head and slid another MIRV shell in the breach, sliding the rack forward and priming the round. Then a sudden hollow panic seized me. I froze and realized that now was my perfect moment.

Just let it kill him, I thought, staring at the ground in front of me. Just don’t save him.

I cast a panicked look over at Ordo, whose face contorted into an angry frown. He slapped my shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Hey! Hord still in there.”

He had known my thoughts, just from the look on my face. And he’d just made it clear that Hord needed to be saved . . . but he didn’t give a rat’s ass about Mr. Sada.

I blinked up at him and snapped out of it. I raised my shotgun and blasted the giant golem in the face with another MIRV shell, before stepping out of Ordo’s way, giving him space as he raised his launcher back to one shoulder.

He aimed for her head, and the rocket soared into what was left of her clay face. An explosion rocked the inside of the giant golem’s head, and it reeled drunkenly back, black smoke pouring from its naked metal frame.

One more time, the golem tried to scream the word “Anthony!” but whatever device it used to speak was damaged beyond proper function, and the sound came out garbled. The golem slumped to one side and stopped moving.

I shook my head and clapped the hobb on the back. “Good work, Ordo.”

He nodded and hefted the launcher. “Lot of nightmares, but BlueCleave have under control. I help you.”

“Thank you,” I said, turning to the ruins of Mr. Sada’s house.

He stumbled from the doorway in his robe, followed closely by Hord. The hobb quickly holstered his sidearm when he saw me.

“He survive,” Ordo said, looking at me. “You real boss, we all know it. Just tell me what you want. I do it.”

I hesitated, staring at my former boss. I saw his face from so long ago, staring down at me through the pouring rain. "You alright, son?" he had said. "Here, let's get you somewhere warm."

I saw him and what he had done for me, and my eyes began to tear. But I saw all the other faces alongside him and behind him. I was a part of all of those other faces as well. There was Molls smiling beautifully enough to make me blush. Rayna, stern and loyal, her rifle’s muzzle flashing in the battle to save our site. Doofus. Phyllis. Lee.

This was our city. Our kingdom. I was pretty shit at caring about myself, but I had a lot more of people depending on me now.

A hundred people. Maybe a thousand later. And that number would grow and grow, keeping what was left of us all safe against the selfishness of other sentients and the uncaring algorithms of the system. Those others, they were going to be what kept us alive in this damn nightmare.

"You alright, son?"

That had been a different world. I tried for so long and I tried so fucking hard, but I couldn't save him. Not the way he'd saved me. Because the world was different now, and he was going to get us all killed.

I was a leader now. A man whose decisions could cost everyone their life. I needed to weigh matters, decide what was best for all of us as a whole . . .

“No, Ordo. He died in the dream storm. Get Hord out of here,” I growled.

Ordo barked a few words in the hobb language, gesturing to Hord. Hord froze, turned to look at Mr. Sada, then started jogging toward Ordo.

I tried my best to smile at Mr. Sada as I walked toward him, but I couldn’t. The expression froze and turned into a grimace. Mr. Sada stared at his bodyguard leaving his side, then turned to see me approaching. Something clicked, and he scrambled back inside.

When I arrived at his doorway a few seconds later, he was already in what was left of the kitchen.

“Tyson, wait. Stop, what did I do?” He asked. His voice rose into a whine and my jaw clenched. I stepped into his house and started walking toward him across the living room.

“Hey, c’mon man, you’re freakin’ me out. This isn’t funny!”

Mr. Sada backed up and clutched at the marble countertop as he went. He was shaking his head at me and staring into my eyes. I wished I had remembered my helmet before I came.

“It was just a bad dream!” His voice cracked and I moved to follow him around the marble countertop. He dodged again, clutching the lip of marble and staying away from me.

I turned to him and let out a shaking breath, between my clenched teeth. Then I summoned the atomic breaker gauntlets and smashed the countertop. I inadvertently activated my power blow ability in both arms, and the slab of marble erupted in a cloud of blue light and dust.

Mr. Sada fell back from the explosion, expensive marble shrapnel dotting his face and throat. He rubbed at his eyes, prone on the stairs.

“What the fuck, Tyson!“

His scream wasn’t angry.

Just afraid.

I briefly wondered if maybe all of his previous profanities had been fear rather than anger. A knot formed in my throat, even as I rushed forward.

He tried to block me but I moved fast, grabbed his throat, and lifted him bodily overhead.

“Tyson please!” He wheezed. “I’m sor-”

I squeezed hard. Bone crushed like powder, and he slumped to the floor, eyes unfocused. My gauntlet had held him by the top of his neck, and when I bore down, I crushed his brainstem, killing him instantly.

The sudden silence was deafening.

In the background, where the marble counter used to be, my cartoon starfish danced in the dust cloud that remained.

I sat down on the ruined stairs beside his crumpled body, breathing marble dust and just staring at my gauntlets. They pulsed and hummed, oblivious to the life they'd just snuffed out, gathering the remaining atomic energy in the air into themselves.

Once they were finished, I dismissed them.

To my side, rivulets of red ran from Mr. Sada's ears, pooling over the kitchen floor.

"You should have fucking listened," I muttered.

"Not the dream. The dream wasn't your fault. But the rest of it. All of that garbage ‘I'm the boss’ bullshit that you had to keep throwing about. You were supposed to fucking listen!”

My voice dropped to a whisper. “I didn’t hate you, Mr. Sada. I was going to save you. I was going to save all of us, man."

His eyes were blank. Peaceful in a way.

Maybe this was best for him as well.

He wasn't made for this world. His had been a place of luxury and inheritance, where merit and effort were hired to make rich people richer, and you didn't have to take responsibility for stuff if you had that golden spoon.

Here there was no golden spoon. Not for any of our little group, anyways.  I hunched over his body and rifled through the pockets of his robe. The MortBlock was in his right pocket. I had suspected he wouldn’t move around without it.

This MortBlock no longer has an owner! It covers the entire area of Silken Sands. Would you like to claim ownership of this MortBlock?

The cube gave me its prompts, and I went through the motions. My MortBlock, which I had taken from the orange Sleem orb in the basement, lit up as it accepted the new territory into my own.

I controlled the entire campground, and roughly half an acre around it in each direction, which extended our current territory to just outside the walls. I noticed our funding had not changed and realized that the morties Mr. Sada had made from nearly destroying our spider ranch had not been returned to the affiliate from his personal account.

A sleek, black pod floated lazily through the shattered and crumbling patio doors, and beamed in a small package, depositing it on the floor at my feet. Then it turned and left, happily whistling its transaction-complete sound.

The box had a small flesh-paper sticker attached to the outside, like a shipping label. It was emblazoned with a fresh brand that read “BuyMort Living Will Services. Anthony J.J. Sada.”

I guess that answered what happened to your morties after you die. If you set up a will, it would send gifts to your loved ones, friends, affiliates, or even enemies.

And if you didn’t, well, my bet was that BuyMort just absorbed the morties.

With a heavy sigh, I flipped open my knife and slit the flesh tape around the box, before opening its cover flaps.

A copy of the bulls-head ring Mr. Sada always wore was seated inside the box, with a tiny white card tucked into the back of the jewelry container.

The note only held a few words, and a single letter to sign it. I could tell it was from him, even though the lettering was printed by a machine. It simply said, “To remind you who’s boss. S.”

I choked on the laughter that bubbled up, quieted myself, and then slowly took the ring out and put it on my own finger.

It fit perfectly.

Continue the series with Book 3, BuyMort: Rise of the Windowpunchers!

AUTHORS’ NOTE

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Coming soon in the

BuyMort Universe

BuyMort Book 3

I left everything as it was and just walked outside. It was important in that moment to be away from that house, that room, and that crumpled body. It hurt to look at him, hurt to know that I’d taken him out.

Even if it had been the right thing to do.

Standing in the backyard, I tried to take stock before I summoned BuyMort to help clean up after both myself, and the dream storm.

The small pool robot seemed like it might be useful, and the water in the pool was low enough for me to retrieve it before I turned to leave.

I held the dripping thing under my arm and shook my head, walking back onto my dead boss's driveway. His Tesla still sat there. My Tesla now, according to BuyMort. Ownership is a funny concept.

I sighed and turned away. “BuyMort, I’d like to sell everything in this lot except the basement hatch, the bicycles, and the car.” Then I glanced at the heap of smoking clay on the other side of the wall and pointed to it. “Along with that golem, and any rubble outside the walls too.”

The drone that had delivered Mr. Sada’s final gift to me turned around in the sky and began its journey back. I walked away as it began zapping out rubble, and the dead body I had left in the kitchen.

In the end, Mr. Sada himself earned the affiliate just over four thousand morties. His former mansion, once the rest of it was warped out from the nearby area, got us another three hundred thousand. The materials were scrapped, but someone would still build something with them. BuyMort bought the clay clone of Mr. Sada’s dead wife back for a neat forty-eight thousand morties, which helped a little.

We had even sold a few spider webs, from inside the house and shed. That reminded me to check in on Drusk when I got a few moments.

At least the fight had been sort of profitable. Nobody needed Mr. Sada’s house anymore, the space had been opened up to build something else on, and the affiliate had refilled its operational fund a little at the same time.

I looked through the information while I walked back to my house.

The action in the campground wasn’t quite finished, but I needed to be away from it all. I needed to be alone.

So of course as I walked up my driveway, I saw Molls and Therrize sitting in Cube’s room with the double doors open, clearly waiting for me.

Therrize was smiling openly, wrapped in Molls’ heated blanket. Molls was seated next to her, her coils resting in a wide-mouthed wicker chair. My blood ran cold as I saw the look on her face. She was smiling at me too, softly. Gentle, even when humiliating me.

I very nearly left my helmet on but thought about it as I approached. This was going to be rough, and the helmet was never the way to go with Molls. All it did was hurt her and make it more obvious to me that I was hiding from her.

No point doing that anymore. I removed the helmet and tucked it under one arm, as I stopped just outside the open doors and the snake women in egg-shaped wicker chairs.

Therrize stood, if the movement could be called that, and handed Molls the blanket with a quiet word of thanks. I glanced over my shoulder as a pod zipped up. The Nah’gh woman smiled warmly at Molls, grasped her hand briefly, and turned to point to an area near me, outside.

The pod obediently zipped over and opened its rainbow beam for her, and Therrize slithered up to me, a similarly gentle smile on her features. She reached out a hand and gently stroked my cheek.

“I understand now, sweety. So does she.” The woman leaned in and whispered, “Open minds lead to full hearts.” She winked one of her giant eyes at me and grinned. “And full beds.”

I smiled back, stiffly. “Thank you, I think.”

Therrize chuckled, shook her head, and slithered into the rainbow beam. Her usual fee had deducted itself from my account upon arrival, and a reminder to rate her service popped up when I glanced to check on it.

I hurriedly hit five stars and swiped it shut.

When I turned to face Molls, she was busy covering herself with the blanket. She was already wearing her heated robes, but I saw that she was more invested in covering her tail, which had become a vibrant shade of pink while Therrize and I spoke.

I flushed red, looking away.

“I, ah . . .” Molls blinked rapidly, her huge eyes flitting around the room. “I thought I would know what to say. I’m sorry.”

“I assume Cube was shouting?” I asked.

She looked up and met my gaze for an instant, smiling. “He was, yes. I’m sorry Tyson, I simply heard the commotion, and when I checked out my window I saw a Nah’gh and felt compelled to go and speak with her.”

Molls stopped speaking and swallowed hard. “I apologize for intruding.”

I flopped into the chair Therrize had recently abandoned. It was still warm and smelled good. “I honestly don’t care, Molls,” I sighed.

When she looked at me, eyes wide in confusion or possibly alarm, I waved a hand and continued. “Unintentional intrusion seems to be our dynamic.”

She giggled, her scales flushing pink again as a hand rose to her lips to cover her amusement. “I suppose you’re correct.”

“You were bound to find out,” I muttered. My eyes stuck to the mud-crete floor. I couldn’t focus on Molls, or the fact that she knew I had been dreaming about her, in intimate ways. It just didn’t matter anymore.

That was unimportant entirely compared to the thought that kept racing through my head. Finally, I vocalized it.

“I killed Mr. Sada,” I choked. The words came out ragged. There were tears, but something stopped them. Just as they started to burn my eyes, something in my chest twisted, and the feeling receded, replaced by crushing pressure.

Molls went yellow and stared at me. I could see the color change out of my peripheral vision.

“We’re saying the dream storm killed him, but it was me,” I said. The words just tumbled out.

The pink started flowing back into Molls’ scales. Instead of mixing with the already present, it seemed to push the pigmentation away, altering each scale on her body individually. “In certain, extreme situations . . . killing is actually in service to life and . . . and the exchange of value among equals.” her voice trailed off near the end. I could tell the words didn’t help or comfort her anymore.

She tasted the air and tucked further into her blanket. “I’m not your priest anymore, I’m sorry Tyson. I don’t know if I’m a priest at all.”

I looked up at her, the alarm failing to register. Just one more existential threat to doom us all.

“I am truly sorry. I sent in my rebuttal, with evidence. The priests’ council convened and suspended my robes pending investigation. All church association with Silken Sands will be revoked as soon as the complaint can be put through to the primary affiliate body.” She shrugged as she finished, blinking rapidly.

“They didn’t have to do it this way, and I tried to make it clear that a suspension would have devastating consequences. But it is within the council’s power to suspend your affiliate’s association, and I was informed in very clear language that they do not answer to me.” A large tear formed in one eye and she leaned forward to allow it to splash to the ground.

I grabbed my affiliate page out of thin air and did a quick sweep for the church tag in our associates. It was still present, and I sighed in relief.

“How long does that usually take?” I asked.

Molls shook her head. “No more than a day or two. Longer during busy times, like a new world’s first week.”

She went blank after she spoke, and I stared at her for a moment before whispering, “Not what you were expecting, I know.” I leaned back in the chair. It was really quite comfortable, with a padded cushion woven directly into the thin, but strong lacquered reeds the chair was constructed of.

“Are you heading home, then?” I asked, suddenly. The thought that she might leave had occurred to me, and I was surprised at how fearful the concept made me. Like I was about to lose something. Something important.

She grimaced. “My mother has sent a ship, yes, and insists on my return. I don’t intend to board it, though. I’m making a home here, and I want to stay.” The tall, pale Nah’gh woman looked at me and flushed deeper pink. “I want to stay near you.”

As soon as she said it, she huddled into her blankets and looked away, scales filled with vibrant pink color.

I smiled at her. “There’s something there, isn’t there?”

Molls turned carefully and faced me again, her eyes lidded. When she raised them to my face, she smiled again, faintly. “I have the same dreams,” she whispered. “Don’t be ashamed. I’m not. I’ll never be ashamed of wanting what I want.”

As she spoke, she stayed locked on my eyes, and I stared into hers. “This is a fucked-up morning, Molls.”

“This is a fucked-up world, Tyson,” she answered immediately. “What do you want from it?”

I stared at her for a long moment. A giant, sexy, alien snake woman from another world, possibly another universe. A source of stress, embarrassment, and constant thought. In spite of everything. “You, Molls. I want you.”

She reached a hand from beneath her blanket, and slowly extended it toward me. The scales on her skin were deep, swirling purple. When I took her hand in mine, the color sunk into the edges, where the other hard line of permanent color was.

A line of solid purple formed, creating a blended color between it and the band of red. She smiled at me, and the part of me that had been clenched since I awoke that day finally uncurled. I took my first full breath of the morning, and my mind focused on the future. There were many things to protect at Silken Sands, and that was more important than my feelings about what I had done in the name of protecting them.

With another warm smile, Molls squeezed my hand and let go. “We will talk more, later. Right now, I must return to bed, and you have something important to do, by the look of your Knowle assistant.” She nodded her chin toward the road.

Jada was stomping up the path, her club dangling from her hip and a large handgun gripped in one paw. It looked like the .40 cal from the other day.

More BuyMort bullshit coming my way. I sighed and faced her incoming figure.

Coming Soon!

About the Authors

Damien Hanson

Damien is a writer, a gamer and an educator. He lives in Gimpo-Si, South Korea with his wife and son. He likes to meet up with friends and roll dice whenever the opportunity presents itself and has authored several stories.

Check him out at:

https://www.amazon.com/Damien-Hanson/e/B083FFDRZW/

Joseph Phelps

In competitive or cooperative video games over thousands of logged hours, Joseph has always sought out unconventional gameplay and created his own fun.

He's the kind of gamer that ensures the ESRB cannot provide appropriate ratings for online games. It's this type of unusual and amusing gameplay that he brings to the LitRPG and GameLit genres, with wildly aggressive competitive and unconventional single player dynamics at the core of his storytelling. Join him and find out for yourself.

https://www.amazon.com/Joseph-Phelps/e/B07WZCJ39T/