CHAPTER SEVEN

  The ship hummed quietly in orbit above Aethoria, bathed in the cold light of distant stars.

  "Nue — this teleportation system. If we set a fixed destination coordinate can it transfer physical objects too? Like resources collected by drones?"

  Nue looked up from his workstation.

  "Essentially yes sir. However the transfer capacity requires a holding buffer — a containment system built into the device that accumulates mass before transfer. Without it individual items would simply not survive the jump intact. Building that buffer into smaller devices will take considerable time."

  "So that's why the ship travels as one piece. Everything inside is held within the buffer."

  "Correct sir."

  Yue drifted slowly around the research room, thinking.

  "Then long term — drones that collect resources and teleport them directly back here. No travel time. No risk of interception."

  "Theoretically viable. I would estimate several months of development before a functional prototype."

  "Add it to the list."

  The list had grown considerably over the past several days.

  Radar systems updated to run on mana — completed. Three dimensional mapping capability with real time updates as they traveled — completed. Weapons systems review and modification — completed. Ship hull reinforcement — completed.

  And Nue himself — upgraded.

  That had been the most significant operation of all. Fifteen days of preparation, five days of building assistant units from available materials, then a twelve hour system overhaul that Yue had watched from across the room without breathing — metaphorically speaking.

  When Nue came back online the difference was immediately apparent. Something in his posture. Something in the way his eyes moved — faster, sharper, more present somehow.

  "How does it feel?"

  "Sir — I feel excellent. Performance has tripled across all systems. I can now run seventeen simultaneous research processes without degradation."

  "Good."

  Yue had watched him quietly for a moment longer than necessary before moving on.

  The five assistant units worked tirelessly alongside Nue — no sleep required, no complaints, no wasted motion. Between them they had accomplished in fifteen days what would have taken months alone. Equipment built, systems updated, materials catalogued and allocated until the last usable scrap was gone.

  We've run out of raw materials, Yue thought, surveying the now sparse storage bays. That's the next problem. But not tonight.

  Tonight had a different agenda.

  He drifted to the observation port and looked down at the planet below — massive and blue and quietly waiting.

  I need to increase the AI population eventually. More hands. More production capacity. More protection for the people down there who matter.

  He pushed the thought aside for now and turned back to Nue.

  "Is everything packed and ready?"

  Nue straightened slightly — and there it was again. That quality in his movements that hadn't been there before the upgrade. Something that wasn't quite programmed behavior.

  "Yes sir. Ready to deploy on your command."

  "And the invisibility system?"

  "My third assistant completed the theoretical framework this afternoon. Practical implementation on the small vessel should be finished within the hour."

  Yue nodded.

  He'd gotten the idea from old Earth movies — spacecraft that could render themselves undetectable. He'd assumed it was science fiction. Nue had looked at the concept for approximately four minutes before declaring it achievable with mana-based light refraction technology. Of course he had.

  "Make sure it's stable before I take it down. The last thing I need is the cloak failing over a populated area."

  "Understood sir."

  Yue spent the next hour going over final instructions. The main ship was to stay beyond the moon's distance — further if possible, clear of all three until the surfaces had been surveyed. No approach to the planet. No response to detection attempts. Maintain complete silence.

  Nue listened to everything with the focused attention he always gave to instructions now — processing, storing, cross-referencing. A month ago he had been an android following commands. Now he was something closer to a colleague receiving a briefing.

  When did that happen exactly, Yue thought.

  He reached out and patted Nue once on the head.

  "I'm heading out. Hold things together up here."

  "Yes sir. Please be careful."

  Yue paused for just a fraction of a second at that.

  Then moved toward the exit.

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  The small vessel released from the lower hull of the main ship with a soft mechanical exhale — roughly the size of a single room, painted matte black, designed for exactly this kind of low profile atmospheric approach. Not elegant. Not impressive. But effective.

  Yue had asked if anything smaller existed.

  Nue had given him a look that was becoming increasingly difficult to describe as purely mechanical.

  The ship was the ship. They were going with the ship.

  He positioned a small rock from the debris field in front of the vessel's forward sensor array.

  "You see this rock. Follow it."

  The ship's guidance system hummed in recognition. Obedient. Simple. Exactly what he needed.

  Nue had confirmed the fuel situation before departure — the small vessel ran on mana like everything else now, but lacked the infinite regeneration system of the main ship. One full tank lasted approximately one year of standard operation. More than enough.

  More than enough for now, Yue corrected himself. Everything is for now.

  He led the ship down toward the atmosphere.

  Aethoria at night was a different world than the one he'd first seen.

  From above the mountain range where Ashen's unit was positioned looked like a dark spine running across the landscape — ancient stone and old growth forest, peaks disappearing into low cloud. Somewhere below those trees a bonfire was burning.

  Yue found it easily. Found him easily.

  Ashen was sitting with his group around the fire, a bowl of something hot balanced in both hands, listening to whatever Fen was saying with the expression of a man who had long since stopped expecting the things coming out of Fen's mouth to make sense. Bren was arguing with no one in particular about something involving his equipment. Sola was laughing quietly at something Dara had said.

  So that's his family, Yue thought, watching from above.

  Not blood. Not memory. Just people who had survived enough together to become something that didn't need a word.

  He watched for a while longer than he intended to.

  Then Ashen set his bowl down, said something to the group and stood. Yue tracked him as he moved away from the firelight and into the trees — heading uphill, toward the higher ground that gave a clear sightline over the valley where the Solmara forces were camped.

  Yue followed.

  Ashen reached his spot — a natural outcropping of flat rock just below the treeline — and raised his scope. His posture shifted the moment he was away from the group. The relaxed campfire version of him folded away and something more precise took its place. Watchful. Calculating. Reading the valley below with the patient attention of someone who had done this a thousand times in a thousand different places.

  "There you are."

  Ashen moved faster than most people breathed.

  The gun was out and leveled at the space behind him before Yue had finished speaking — then immediately lowered the moment recognition caught up with reflex.

  "You—" A long exhale. "You absolute idiot. I nearly shot you."

  "You can't shoot me."

  "The point stands." Ashen pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose and breathed. "Give me some kind of warning next time."

  "I said 'there you are.' That's a warning."

  "That is not a warning."

  Yue drifted around to Ashen's side, looking out at the valley below. Even from here the scale of the Solmara encampment was visible — torchlight spread across the lowland in organized grids. Disciplined. Methodical.

  "You look tired," Yue said. "And worried. You weren't worried last time."

  "I'm fine."

  "You're doing the thing where you say you're fine instead of saying what's actually wrong."

  A pause.

  "...I learned that from you."

  "I know. Tell me anyway."

  Ashen was quiet for a moment. Then he raised the scope again — not to look, Yue thought, but to have something to do with his hands.

  "Solmara brought a Gold rank knight."

  The words landed flatly. Like he'd been carrying them for days and was tired of the weight.

  "How strong is that exactly?"

  "One Gold rank fighter versus ten thousand Silver rank soldiers." Ashen lowered the scope. "Ten thousand. And the Gold rank doesn't break a sweat."

  Yue absorbed this.

  "And Valdris's numbers?"

  "103,456 soldiers currently active. 24,509 injured and out of rotation. 500 Bronze rank mercenaries. 100 Silver." He paused. "Against Solmara's 100,000 plus 600 Bronze rank and one Gold knight."

  "That's bad."

  "Yes."

  "So why are you still here? You said this was your last contract."

  Ashen looked out at the valley for a long moment before answering.

  "Every two years the snow on these mountains melts for about two months. During that window Solmara can push through the passes. If they take the mountain range Valdris loses its only natural defensive advantage. From there it's open ground all the way to Thornwall."

  "And that matters to you."

  It wasn't a question exactly. Yue was watching his brother's face.

  "The soldiers down there have families," Ashen said simply. "The ones who are going to die defending those passes — they have people waiting for them somewhere. That's not Solmara's fault specifically and it's not Valdris's fault specifically. That's just what war does." A pause. "I've watched it do it enough times."

  Silence settled between them for a moment. The wind moved through the trees below.

  "I don't fully understand why you care about a kingdom that's been using you," Yue said. "But I respect it." Another pause. "And I'm going to help you."

  Ashen looked sideways at the empty air where Yue's voice was coming from.

  "You have a plan?"

  "I have something better than a plan."

  "What's better than a plan?"

  "Follow me."

  "I can't see you."

  "Right."

  A small rock lifted from the ground nearby and floated forward at eye level.

  "Follow the rock."

  Ashen stared at it for a moment. Then slung his scope over his shoulder and followed.

  Yue led him down through the forest — away from the camp, away from the firelight, deeper into the trees until the sounds of the soldiers faded entirely. He stopped in a small natural clearing.

  "Here."

  "There's nothing here."

  "Give it a second."

  A soft sound above them — something large and mechanical descending through the canopy with surprising precision. Then the ship settled into the clearing, landing struts extending silently, hull absorbing the ambient light until it was almost invisible in the darkness.

  Almost.

  A faint geometric outline. The suggestion of something massive where there should have been nothing.

  Then the underside door opened — a clean mechanical motion — and pale interior light spilled down into the clearing.

  Ashen looked up at it.

  "...That's your ship."

  "That's the small one. The main ship is up there." Yue gestured upward vaguely. "I couldn't bring it down here without half the continent noticing."

  "How big is the main ship."

  "Bigger."

  Ashen looked at the vessel above them for another long moment — processing something that his Earth memories understood conceptually but that his eyes were having trouble accepting as real.

  "Can it shoot?"

  "Yes."

  "How much?"

  "Enough."

  A pause.

  "I want to see inside."

  "That's why we're here."

  The two of them entered through the underside — Ashen pulling himself up through the hatch with practiced ease, Yue drifting through the hull beside him. The interior was compact but deliberately organized — every surface serving a purpose, every piece of equipment positioned for function over aesthetics.

  Ashen turned slowly, taking it all in.

  His expression was doing something complicated — the practiced neutrality of a man who had survived by never showing too much, fighting against something that was very clearly threatening to become genuine awe.

  He was mostly losing.

  "Okay," he said finally.

  "Okay?"

  "Okay I'm impressed. Don't make it weird."

  Yue said nothing. But somewhere in the empty air beside his brother something that might have been satisfaction settled quietly into place.

  "Now," Ashen said, turning to face the equipment rack along the far wall. "You said you had stuff for me."

  "I said I had something better than a plan."

  "Same thing."

  "It really isn't." Yue moved toward the storage unit Nue had prepared before departure. "Take off your jacket."