Anarion

Huntresses of Hybrasil

The Semifinals

Mirror

The pieces are falling into place. Matty came back with a delighted smile and not one but three signed pieces of paper representing the lion’s share of the Lozano family’s prayer holdings. And a piece of neural mesh that assured you of their intentions: the true Lozano family hope in you enshrined in a little gray slip, capable of being copied a thousand times to ensure it can’t be covered up or denied, but impossible to forge. Nobody has ever managed to perfectly mimic the neural signals of another person.

Jade’s idol is being repaired with Slate’s help. It will be shining and glorious, fully capable as a dancer and a warrior as the need may be. She will soon stand ready for you to call upon her, or at least insofar as Jade would admit that a goddess can stand ready for anyone to call upon her. Dolly stands ready as well, in her way, as does her cult, many of whom have also befriended your own engineers now that you’re not in competition.

The Gods-Smiting Whip is repaired, fine-tuned, even the grip strengthened on the sword after your last fight. The crew is well aware of Marcina Villajero’s eye for detail and Slate in particular committed to going over every frame of your last fight and ensuring there was nothing to exploit. At least, nothing to exploit that’s within Slate’s power to change.

And Marcina herself. Well, what you’ve heard after her fight with Angela is that she decided to retool her support setup. The vulnerability to the rush screened by missiles was too obvious. So while she’s kept the huge sword that represents the core of her power, she’s adjusted the type and placement of her guns and missiles. Several likely hidden. You have some sense from the view as you enter the fight that she’s gone for more physical ammunition: explosives and autocannons with less emphasis on energy defenses. Perhaps she thinks it will be more effective than trying to match the variety of energy generation techniques that the Whip has already demonstrated.

Speaking of the fight, your final arena seems to have been imagined as though centuries had passed in the arenas of the previous fights. You are in a city like your fight with Dolly, but sunken and overgrown. Standing on the “ground” means standing with your mecha knee-deep in water. Buildings are skewed and slanted, many held in place by vast vines that have tangled with them. Several have holes through them as though hundreds of fights had occurred and powerful explosives had blasted straight through them. The water is not still, but flows from somewhere and to somewhere, so that the city has become a basin in a much larger system. In the distance, the city slopes upward and water runs down low hills and ridges as the buildings move away from the tall buildings of the city center and instead shift to what once were residences now entirely overgrown with lush greens and browns amid the flowing water.

Marcina is deployed across from you in the city center. No surprise, though many opportunities to hide or shift the fight.

“I have been thinking” she says, without any formalities. “About when we first met over drinks. You told me that everything you do, you do to the best of your abilities. And yet that you do not owe everyone, or at least not your oppressors the respect of crushing them. From me, you drank the cinnamon drink even though you knew it would harm you. You suffered, I believe, to make a more effective point to me, that would be etched in my memory. I did not deserve this respect from you. I have been foolish again and again in evaluating you, and you have been nothing but correct.”

Then she says something in Hybrasilian. It’s not a traditional saying, but the words make sense in order. “[To know an opponent is to defeat them. To learn their hopes and their dreams, to know precisely how to serve them, this you use to cut them down.] But you…I still do not know you. And so…I want you. I desire you. I will have you.”

***

Solarel

The return to the Aeteline was at once more and less than your memory could do justice to it. It is more in that your body is strong. Refreshed with food, rest, your mind focused, new routines of information to consider and calculate, the interface with the Aeteline feels sharper and faster. You could move and lift the stars themselves with the right lever.

And yet, you return with things entirely outside of the Aeteline etched in your heart. The furnace at its heart knows nothing of noodle bowls and cinema lighting. It has not heard of a documentary and it does not have any consideration of the fashion dos and don’t for cape wearing. It does not consider how it might be to deal with a manic director or an easily flushed translator because these things are outside the parameters of its operations and it would not function for a pilot whose mind was not able to synchronize with its automated processes.

You face now the other Terenian pilot, Isabelle Lozano. The one from that strange Trak’tho planet who you called not worth your time. Yet she has come back. She has won her matches, restored her preferred machine, and added to it in new ways. The dynamic nature of Terenian technology once again at play. Her mechanical body has not remained constant and this is not merely due to making repairs with inferior parts. She has chosen to add new functions, chosen to make modifications, chosen, for no reason but her own preferences, to change how it works.

You fight amid a city of clouds. A series of orbital platforms, lower than your previous battle on a space platform, and far larger. This must be a recreation of an entire Terenian mining city, replete with small buildings and roads, all built for upper atmosphere mining operations and gas collection. It offers unusual angles, is still subject to gravity (and thus to falls should an engine be disabled or overtaxed), and glows a gentle orange-pink in the sunrise that lights your match.

***

Isabelle

Well, here you are. The control device is removed with Asil’s help, and your family have placed their trust in Hybrasilians you just met at their encouragement and a little persuasions from the tiny mechanic. Is it not freeing, in a way? Your girlfriend is the superior mechanic, your fate entrusted to others. The only thing left for you to focus on here is the fight. Oh, and your Zaldarian prisoner, who left the estate a few days ago with a carefully written apology note in Terenian indicating that she appreciated your hospitality but did not feel that she could remain given your opponent.

So, really all that’s left is to focus on the fight and not the thousand things swirling around it that you could worry about but that you have no control over. Keep trying t remember that.

You fight amid a city of clouds. A series of orbital platforms, lower than Solarel’s previous battle on a space platform, but much higher than the elevated ruined city or the open plains where you fought earlier matches. This is a recreation of an entire Terenian mining city, replete with small buildings and roads, all built for upper atmosphere mining operations and gas collection. It offers unusual angles, is still subject to gravity (and thus to falls should an engine be disabled or overtaxed), and glows a gentle orange-pink in the sunrise that lights your match.

***

Dolly and Jade

“So, what are the specs on this thing?” Slate’s head is cocked to one side as she gazes at the idol in the hangar. Not fighting this round. But Mirror still insisted that she be in tip top shape. In fact, she sent her own chief engineer to assist you.

“It’s been a few years since I was home, maybe longer with the travel distances. So did they make any breakthroughs that you just weren’t using right? You kept up with the Whip on a regular chassis, so you’ve gotta have something under the hood there. Though if all they managed for you was a more efficient processor, that would still be plenty I supposed.”

“If you ask me, it looks more like a dancer than a fighter though.”

And that one might cut a little. Because little does Slate know that your poll results included one write in for “start a pole dancing business” (obviously from Six Stones) and one write in for “dance in the sacred ceremonies of the gods” who you’re not sure would have sent that as a write-in. The rest are fairly evenly split between hunting the Red Band and temple complex. Doesn’t seem like there’s any support for the roving justice thing, people either want a clear goal or a clear base. Garden Planet has two votes, tying for the dancing routine if you count the joke vote.

Also Slate’s staring at you for a response.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

Slate turns her head a hair, a sleepy quizzical expression. “Of course. I’m terrified, Mira. Terrified of winning, terrified of losing. We’re doing this instead of war.” She lets her gaze linger, looking up at your face, her neck craned backwards to make the angle.

“[Sunlight withers grass, prey begins the pilgrimage] yes, exactly. But who’s the prey and where are they going? That’s what we don’t know. And that’s terrifying.”

She smiles and breathes, long slow breaths that evince a serenity that doesn’t match her words. “But then, none of that will make us quit, will it? It doesn’t matter who we’re pawns for, won’t matter when it’s over. We get something unique, something you can’t buy, and you of all people are one to stretch the limits of what’s possible even among all the people of the vast stars. [The shadow of the smallest kitten can devour the stars.]

***

Lozano siblings and Matty

The interior of Trosta’s isn’t empty. That would be too weird, and anyway Matty finds the sound of metal being worked comforting. It’s a place that’s easy to relax in, to get lost in the sound and forget that you’re there. To be confident that nobody else knows you’re there or can hear anything you’re saying.

To the gathered siblings, she speaks. “You’re probably a little confused why I called you here. I um, didn’t thinkI was getting all three of you either, just one would be enough. But since you’re all here, your sister needs help. She needs help about your mother. And because we’re…um…well…we live in a strange time and everyone is together here where our peoples are not normally together. So…because of that, I am helping, and my…friend is helping, and all her crew are helping. We just need a little bit of help. Each of you has a piece, a little portion of the Lozano family, the stocks that you hold. I am not the expert in Terenian prayers or um…f-finance…and that’s not why they sent me to talk to you. I’m here because…w-well because we Hybrasilians have a plan, and we can help all of you live better lives. Lives with less fear and doubt and worry in them. We need a little bit of your help to do that, and we’re asking for your trust that we can make it work. And I want you to know that we mean it, that we’re really here to help. I hope that meeting me here, in this unusual way, s-somewhat off the path that you normally tread, will help you understand. I’ve felt so much of that fear in my own life, and the people who I’m with now, they help me feel better, feel safer. I really think we can do that for you too. So, we’re asking for you to trust us and believe in us. That we’ll take the little pieces of Terenian things you have, and put them together, and help bring all of you, and Isabelle especially, to a world where you can all feel less afraid.”

She stops and she waits. There is a moment of tension, of baited breath. Who knows what might have been running through the minds of the Lozano siblings in this moment. Plans and calculations, fear of tricks and traps, of informants and spies and all the myriad tactics of the Lozano family over the years, perhaps.

But at last, Luca steps forward, cloak and dagger and all. But he does not hand Matty a ceremonial dagger, or make some grand gesture. Rather, he pulls out a pen. “You’re right. When I think to myself ‘why do I hesitate to do this’ it is all from fear. Fear that I do not know you, that my sister has asked me here to take a foolish risk. Fear that whatever plan you may have will fail. That each thing that happens is under the control of my mother. These are the reasons I can think of not to act. But I am already living this way. Isabelle is living this way, we are all living this way. What then, do I lose from acting? Nothing, I say to all of you. If our sister believes this was worth hearing out, then you will have my support.”

He allows Matty to show him what to do, where to sign, provides some of his own guidance on the particulars of such a document. And so too do Tadeo and Carmella, each in their turn.

And when it is done, Matty holds a set of papers and a specially coded mesh with their intentions, easily copied but impossible to forge. A sign of power, but more importantly, of trust.

***

Solarel

As you sign, there is a screen for the Terenian that slowly brings the words on a screen. It’s something like a translation geist, but with Pia as intermediary: it’s reflecting her mind, her understanding, rather than a mechanical spirit doing so. In a sense this is much simpler: the geist, if you can even say there is one, is merely a scribe for her rather than engaging in a direct interpretive effort. But no words are spoken in any part, save by Anna as she peppers each question in turn.

“Oh my gosh, you’re an arena pilot! And you came here because you’re hungry. And, Pia, you’re the student, is all that stuff about the ancestors and spirits and everything new? Did anyone have that on file?” Pia’s shaking her head, eyes sparkling.

“This is incredible, what a system, my god. And you just stalked gods in your tribe? Like in anime?! I didn’t think anyone really did that!”

She looks incredibly smug at the other two. “See, and you said that all I’d ever get picking up subjects in the spaceport restaurants was a punch in the face. Like that would even hurt. Okay, wrap up this footage, let’s package it up, do a voiceover of some kind, but like, respectfully, Pia will look at it and we’ll make sure it’s respectful and doesn’t violate any customs. We can do commentary or something if we have to. Pietro, stop looking at me like that, you know perfectly well that if I wanted to cause a diplomatic incident I’d do it on purpose, nobody half-asses a diplomatic incident, that’s just incredibly boring.”

When all is done, the last thing they ask is this: “so…uh, when it’s done we’ll send you a free copy of course. Our expense paid, even if we have to get it shipped by courier across the galaxy. So…where should we send it?”

***

Dolly

“You are a beautiful soul. Too beautiful for shooting people in the face, I might think.” Angela adds that almost sadly as you complete the shopping trip. “But then, no, perhaps there is nothing in the whole galaxy that would make you so happy as where you are now, hm?” She accentuates this by flexing the arm that’s holding you, pinching you tightly between the various parts of her arm wrapped around you.

“Still, ask yourself if you wish to fight. There are many ways for you and your goddess to greet the world, are there not? If this is not the only way to achieve your wishes, I would be loathe to call it the best way.”

And with that, she hefts you and the order slip, passing it to the store to have all the parts delivered to the hangar faster than you can even get back. After all, it is the duty of the high priestess to deliver everything timely, is it not?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle

“Illegal? No no no, just the opposite. Exactly the opposite!” Matty floofs up her fur and runs a hand through her hair as she’s speaking, doing her best to look up at you so that she can try to understand if you understand. “We need their help so that we can help you without doing anything illegal. You have your um, your stock prayers, each of you, and we need at least 51 of them. You don’t have enough, but Mirror believes that if even one of your siblings chooses to help then it will be enough. So we just need to talk to them. I’ll explain, we’re not asking you to put yourself in any danger, just to invite them to meet with me.”
She looks up at you with her big wide saucer eyes. “We’ll take care of things, we just need you to um…” she says something in Hybrasilian, “ah, what’s the translation, to um kick a single pebble to collapse a mountain.”

***

Solarel

<Okay…okay> she signs it a few times. Probably a Terenian speech tick that she’s using directly in foesign, since typically that would be confirmation but she hasn’t actually said what she’s doing yet so it’s unclear what’s being confirmed.

<I’ll go ahead with the writing. It will be extra work for me, but they’re…providing me food and lodging for all the time I spend> she looks chagrined at this, though you have no way of knowing that she struggled with coming up with a word for “paying” in foesign.

<And…you are cute…I didn’t mean to imply that you I wasn’t…> she starts blushing, stops signing, shakes her head. <wait just a moment.>

“Okay, Anna, Pietro, get me an auto-tablet with a neural mesh. If you have to buy it, it’s part of my expenses, but she needs us to write her answers instead of speaking, so I need something to do the transcribing.”

“Oh, I have one!” Anna shouts and instantly leaps out of the room, coming back with a small screen and a sleeve for Pia to wear on one wrist. She slips it on, blushes yet again and discreetly closes the romantic fiction about the two cape-wearing space explorers furiously making out while trying to get the treaty of Murzon signed, then gives her attention back to you.

<okay, we’re all going to sit in front of those machines where the lights are pointing, and then Anna’s going to ask some questions out loud. I’m going to sign them to you and then you’ll sign the answers back.>

She moves you all to the chairs. There’s extra ambient heat from the lights, but they insist that all of them are turned on because apparently it’s important for the machine that Pietro is pointing your way, which has started making a low clicking sound to indicate that it’s running.

“You set it to retro again, Anna?”
“I like knowing it’s running, makes it easy to time the takes, it’s comforting!”
“Sure, okay okay”

Anna turns to you and says “okay let’s get started. Formalities first, who are you, where are you from, what brings you to Horizon? Then, what kind of ship do you pilot or are you part of a crew? What’s it like for a Zaldarian visiting TC space? Do you like it? What’s the most fun thing here? The weirdest? Can you tell us about where you grew up? How do Zaldarians usually live? Do you get date? Get married?”

Pia furiously begins signing questions to you, doing the best she can. So…how do you respond?

***

Mirror

Some time later, you are both breathless, pressed together, Slate resting her head half on a pillow and half against your neck.

She signs, her eyes closed. “Why do you think Hybrasil wants all this” she whispers, unable to muster an energy to raise a hand in a gesture that would encompass the whole of the galaxy with a finger. “I know why a person would. Why [every kitten wants to pounce a thousand things a thousand times.] But Hybrasil? [Hunger never sleeps through the night], yes, but [one who tries to swallow a waterfall in one drink is only drenched] you know?

She breathes out. It warms your neck before the breath in chills the tips of the fur, so close is she to you. “Feels like [Mu Ysha using six arms all to hone blades and polish spears] but then she always ends up using all of them in every story. [A claw cannot pierce the storm, but that does not mean a storm cannot be hunted.] Is that what we are?”

Her breath is on you with every word, but her words are the words of parsecs. The words of everything, the breath of nothing, and the world never stays still for long.

***

Dolly

“You did not watch my fight against Smith then? Not surprising, you had already beaten her by then, it would only have mattered if I didn’t win. But she too said ‘family family family’ and I shouted at her that I had done things alone. Valor is not my family, and the Antonius family does not truly love me, I think.”

She sighs, giving you a shift to make you squeak, Dolly, and then grins. “But family is not the only thing one loves. Is that not so? I can have a people, can I not? I can stand for a place, for its conditions, for its pride, even if there are not so many people who I share my time with from there anymore. It matters to me. Valor is full of wide land. Farms for the great silks of much of the Terenius Consortium. They grow best on a planet and it is one stop from Shiki where they use many of them. Easier for them to build up for population, us to build for fields. And then for that, there is manufacturing, work mechas. The drives we do not make, those come from the capital, but we make the shells, the pistons, the hydraulics. Machines to work the planet, machines to haul the things, great space elevators to reach the floating transports that are too large and ungainly to ever land in atmosphere. Like giant hippos. You know what a hippo is? It is a great fat water beast with a huge backside and a large mouth that swims in great rivers and eats the plants and the unwary both.

I do not make it sound hospitable, ia, no I do not. But it is beautiful in its way. A planet full of growing things and the machines to work them. Covering flatlands and rolling hills, while those who wish rest go to the mountains and look upon it all. It is a stark beauty, the beauty of something that feels large, that your eyes can take in but that yet exceeds you vastly in a way that gazing upon the stars does not feel vast no matter how much greater the expanse it represents.

What then of your home little cat? You hail from the greatest of your planets, why should I think it a match for Terenius Prime?”

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

“Oh…gosh” Pia says out loud, as she flushes. “Oh gosh, oh no I’m causing an international incident! They didn’t mention this in my classes and none of the other Zaldarians were this strict!” She hastily signs <I…didn’t learn the whole culture in my classes. Please forgive me, I did not mean to offend. I can…write? Is that like a translation geist? We’ll sign and then I can use a mesh to write your words on a screen. Would that serve?> She pauses, wipes her hands on her sweater. <I’m very sorry. Is this…normal…have I accidentally made…advances on other Zaldarians?>

She doesn’t speak that last part out loud, but she’s blushing incredibly red and both Anna and Pietro are looking at her. Anna is stifling laughter and Pietro has a grin that he can’t quite keep down.

***

Isabelle

A little time after your training is done, you’re met by Matty, one of Mirror’s followers who’s working at the Hangar. She was the one that seemed easily embarrassed at the party, but she’s also dressed as a mechanic and looks very much like she’s on a mission as she comes to see you.

She marches right up to you, hands at her side. “Hi, I need you to invite whichever of your siblings might help us to come meet me tomorrow at Trosta’s Arms and Armor on Akar II. We need at least one of them for our plan, and I don’t know who would be best or how to get them there, which is what I need your help with. We’ll take care of the rest from there.”

She’s trying to sound very confident, though she doesn’t project herself the same way that Mirror does and she’s got her paws clenched as she’s speaking.

What do you say to her?

***

Dolly

“I feel like maybe you will think less of me. But…I simply want things.”

She sighs and ducks under the doorframe, being very careful not to bump you, Dolly, as you go in. She doesn’t set you down though, she’s enjoying herself as you start looking for list items.

“My last name is Antonius. One of the two great families that formed the Terenius Consortium. But I’m from a backwater planet, and I am not a child of that family. I was adopted into it. My home is called Valor, and it is not so far from your space. But it’s not right next to it either. It is a stopover. Not so large as Shiki, nor so fashionable. Not directly trading with your people, but not close enough to the capital to be truly valued. Right in the middle. When it was named, everyone thought that it was for brave explorers, but I think now it is for the bravery of the people who choose to stay.”

She kneels down so you can look at a shelf (without being let off her back) and confirm that she’s selecting the right parts to be sent to Jade’s idol.

“So, my wish is for things for my planet. Enough to become the greatest manufacturer of the latest generation mark 3 mechasuits and interstellar trade vessels. It is a selfish wish, for my people over other people. Ada chided me for trying to make such a thing happen alone in my last fight. But nevertheless, that is it.”

***

Mirror

Though you may not realize it, you have, through support and planning, squared away a great many things. Matty is out on her mission, her wish a special secret she will not share until she succeeds.

The crew is hard at work on the Whip shaping it to be ready for your battle with Marcina Villajero. They know what repairs to make, have an ample supply of equipment and parts, and have yet to receive any uniquely special instructions

Requests to Mayze are, for the moment, as sorted as they can get, and Slate has seen to it that the food and drink stores are replenished with a variety of sweet and salty flavors that might suit your whim if such a whim takes you.

And as for the rest of your assorted followers and hangers on, well, Dolly is out shopping. Kiriala is also out shopping, though strictly for her own luxury goods, she insisted after her elimination with Isabelle that she had some special jewelry to find and bring home for her crush back on Hybrasil. Isabelle should be presently meeting with Matty to get that rolling.

So, for a brief and blessed moment, you and Slate are entirely alone with nothing pressing on you.

“So, should I take my clothes off now?” she asks with a wink?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

“You know this isn’t my strong suit, boss-” Slate starts to say, but cuts off when Matty raises her hand very high. Slate looks at you, back at her. “Uh, go ahead sweetie.”

Matty blushes and when everyone looks at her briefly goes mute even though she asked to talk, but then she takes a big gulp and starts going. “I um…I think if Isabelle helps, just with an invitation, I could help. I still have space at Trosta’s so it will be weird but not suspicious weird, like the normal kind of weird. Or the weird kind of normal? Like [Watching the visitor taste of new cuisine at a faraway land’s hunt]. “But if we get them there, I think I could do it. I felt like…um, like Isabelle is maybe a bit like me sometimes and if her siblings are all under the same mother who’s like you talked about her, then I think, maybe they’ll be like that too. So I can talk to them and try and I think I can do it.”

Having poured out all her words for this bit of persuasion, she instantly blushes even brighter as she waits for you all to say something.

***

Solarel

There’s a flurry of action. Your lunch is finished, and Anna pulls out a small electronic card that she briefly gives to the woman serving the food, who runs it through some sort of electronics with a primitive geist that makes a number embedded with the card go down slightly, then hands it back to her, which is apparently the signal that you should all leave as Anna gets up and makes a gesture indicating she expects you to come with her.

You quickly find yourself in a small studio, just a couple blocks off the port. There does not appear to be any magic sword-wielders jumping out of the woodwork as you follow Anna. Further, Pietro is not matching her magic cape look at all. He’s wearing pants and a t-shirt and not much else. Notably, he isn’t wearing any shoes in the studio, which is unusual for Terenians in your experience, but this doesn’t seem to phase him, being a fellow that stands nearly as tall as you, with short hair and a neat mustache.

The studio itself is not large. There’s just the one shooting area, but if you have the eye for this sort of thing, you’d be able to tell that within the limits of the space, no expense was spared on cameras or lighting. The setup is perfect, the equipment has high quality lenses capable of any shot one might and that is physically possible to achieve in a cramped studio. You can’t tell what color the cramped studio is supposed to be though because every wall is draped floor to ceiling with massive cream-colored blankets for sound treatment to block out the noise of the port. This also means that you may find the space unusually meditative: quiet like the great fields of Rovig are quiet when the wind dies down.

Pietro just got off the phone, and he’s now discussing something with Anna, but he’s shouting so you can only hear his half of the conversation while you wait. “...can’t believe you took on another project! That’s…what…five this week? Are you going to do all the editing for them too? You need to sleep sometime Anna! Or at least try! Don’t…no…no no no, don’t look at me with that pout, don’t you dare. …I’m not…look, I’m not saying you can’t edit them all, I’m just saying that we both know you can’t keep this pace forever and then you’ll drop off the face of the map completely for days and I’ll have to get everyone together to pick up the pieces. …Can we just…yes this is a unique opportunity, it’s why I already called the interpreter before we did this. …okay you win, but just remember that the last festival said they don’t take submissions longer than three hours.”

There’s a brief pause, they offer you a soda, which is extremely sweet and otherwise has no particular taste. A few minutes later, the interpreter arrives. She’s a short, mousy sort of girl, brown hair cut to neck length and worn loose, and wearing a ribbed black sweater.

“Hi, I’m Pia” she says out loud, while making the hand signs for welcoming an honored guest. “How well do you understand Terenian? Do you need me to sign with my speech for better understanding, or should I just speak your signs for the rest of the room?” She says and signs approximately the same thing.

Anna is trying very hard not to vibrate herself through the floor behind Pia and Pietro is trying very hard to stand still and not sigh or close his eyes.

***

Dolly

Angela looks where you’re pointing and then hefts you over her shoulder without asking (but while carefully untangling your tail from around her) to wade through the crowd. “I don’t think I’ve heard all your history, actually, little cat. No, a Gardens you say? Do all your people take one of their names for their job, or did you just follow in the footsteps of your family until they found you had a more important talent?”
She considers herself as she gives you the bird’s eye view of the crowd (slightly adjusting you so that your butt is just over her shoulder and you’re looking forward and just a tiny bit down without overbalancing).

“You were there, through Jade. With the table I mean. You felt lit, saw it while it was happening. But then, it was mixed with so many things. I was just thinking about moving through the space, you know little cat? Don’t you go on ritual hunts, or were you too recently a Gardens for that? I’ll need to tell the people back home that only some of the Hybrasilians do that if so.” She laughs, her long low laugh, which you can feel vibrate through you view her strong arms. “But I move through the space with strength, that is what this body is for. If you make yourself strong and then you never think to use your strength, well what’s the point, ya?”

***

Isabelle

Asil definitely picks up on your point about Mira: “Mm, also consider, just…for the sake of argument, for speculation, doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, but maybe your mother was actually thrown off by all this? Maybe some of the contingencies she planned for didn’t happen and some things that did happen were way outside her plans. Maybe she’s just feeling off her game. Maybe she just isn’t coming up with a good move, finally feeling her age, that sort of thing. Maybe she got nervous and went to shore up that factory contract? I don’t know all this rich people stuff, but Adriana is the President of all of TC and a champion mecha pilot. Isn’t it possible that the Lozanos are actually the ones that have more to lose if they strain that relationship too far?”

She gives you a look that you don’t see over the backrubs. “Anyway, that’s enough speculation, isn’t it? You’re nearly done with your ice cream, and I’m done with mine. We’ve done all our maintenance, and you’ve got a lot of your schedule freed up. But you should still train, don’t you think? What kind prep do you think you can do against Solarel?”

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

She gives herself a bump on the forehead with her own palm, which makes her hair bounce. “Ah right, ugh I’m dumb, so dumb, most of you don’t speak, I learned about that. Ugh, that was…yes, that was a yes, right? You look excited!”

She runs through a whole emotional train here in the span of a couple seconds as she grapples with beating herself up and then realizing you’re enthusiastic all at once. Her face lights up when she reaches the end. “Okay, okay, can you uh…Terenians usually nod for yes and shake their heads side to side for no, like this.” She bounces and shakes her whole body as she moves her head, her long pink hair and her cape bouncing with her. “So uh, if you can nod then I’ll, uh, I can call my guys and we can do a thing. And, oh my gosh I haven’t even. My name’s Anna Maria Alvarez. I’m a film student, I’m making documentaries and I’m so excited to get to include a Zaldarian. Oh I’ll need to get an interpreter, I bet Pietro knows someone. Okay, so, well, can you nod first and then I’ll tell show the set and everything. And um, I’ll cover your lunch too, for giving me the time of day and everything. Thank you!”

***

Isabelle

Asil, now sitting and working on her own ice cream, gives you a long, considered look. “You have had a lot of trauma” she says after a moment. She takes a considered bite of ice cream, very slowly, lowering her spoon and carving out a nice round piece. The smell of coffee rises from it as she works at it and she enjoys that while she’s thinking of what to say.

“What you’ve said is very bad, but what you’ve described is not a person, not even a very powerful and wealthy business owner, but some kind of monster shadow who reaches all around the galaxy.”

She chews again, considering. “You should meet my bisabuela sometime while she’s still around. She’s 105, did you know? Do you know what she’d do to your mother if she got kicked out of her apartment? It wouldn’t be a lawsuit or some dumb plan to make the system work for her. No, she’d come find your mother and set fire to her room with her locked in it.”

Asil stares you in the eyes. She’s grinning, but she is entirely serious. “Do you think bisabuela cares about getting hurt too, or dying? Or going to jail? She’s 105, she could fall over anytime. She would be delighted to go out spiting anyone who touches a hair on the head of one of her family members. Don’t think for a second that only the reach get to have family, Lozano.” She emphasizes the name, a reminder of the importance of who you are while also denying that importance. A dare, a challenge, and also a protector, someone who’d fight and die for you if you become hers.

“Now, you’ll tell me that your mother would never let anyone get that close. That she’s perfect and monitors everyone and everything. That she’d be entirely comprehensive across the galaxy, right?” She stops and flicks your forehead all of a sudden. “Trauma! This galaxy takes weeks to get news from one end to the other. Even in TC space, you have to be somewhere and news only comes as fast as people move. She literally cannot get word of such a stupid plan any faster than it’s put into motion. But more important than all that. Than any of that is this. If your mother were really so powerful, so confident, so utterly in control, would she really be putting so much on YOU Isabelle? No. I know, trust me. You do that because you’re afraid. She is afraid that she can lose everything she has, that it’s really possible and she can’t do anything about it.”

And then she stares at you. She’s worried. Worried maybe she pushed too hard, but also worried about you, about how much hurt is inside you. She’s looking to see if she needs to stand back up and hold you.

***

Mirror

Whenever you return and have the time to check there are some notes for Mayze Serpaws. Some new orders from various nobles, including a member of the Hybrasilian military who had attended the party. Her name is Shiva Teuru Nine Dishai, she’s the leader of one of the largest huntress lodges on Hybrasil, an imposing lioness. She apparently found your designs intriguing. Though that one isn’t a rush, she wants it for use back home, not for a specific upcoming event, and will gladly take whatever timeline you offer.

Perhaps the most notable is a letter from Adriana Teresio.

To Mayze Serpaws,

You are a rare person. When offered an opportunity to curry favor from someone powerful and of vast wealth, you took a bold risk and delivered me something that could have made me very angry. Or perhaps something I might have refused and even sought to ruin your reputation for making. Many wealthy Terenians would have declared a vendetta against you for delivering a dress that drugged them for an evening.

I am thus forced to conclude that you are either extremely analytical to have correctly understood that I am not such a person. Or that you are willing to humble those in power regardless of what consequences may accrue to you. In either circumstance, you have my deepest respect. People of your nature are extraordinarily difficult to find in my position.

As a result, I will not sully your motivations with an offer of money or power. Nor promises that I cannot truly promise to keep given my political position. Rather, I simply offer you my personal contact. The enclosed comms channel can be used to contact me personally and directly at nearly any time (save perhaps if I am in a summit that prohibits any communication device while present). I trust you will either use it wisely or for an appropriate laugh before forcing me to replace it.

There are, of course, many more orders if you’re willing to open things to them, Mayze has no shortage of customers that would simply offer money, but these two stand out from the others.

***

Jade and Dolly

When the party is over, the crews dispersed, and everyone rested (with appropriate blackmail saved for Six Stones), the question now is what comes next.

Mirror’s request is outstanding, and you wouldn't want to miss the finals anyway, so nobody is permanently leaving Akar for the moment. On top of that, Jade needs maintenance anyway after Mirror had to carry her out of the Arena. The entire connection from the central core to the idol’s legs is completely severed and the crew is going to have to rebuild that from scratch, sourcing all new components.

Jade is also not the most patient mistress. She would like to be able to fly freely at any time, and so even though there is no match approaching, the crew are all working as fast as they can to get the idol fixed. In fact, there’s simply no technical staff to spare right now.
And that is why, Dolly and Angela, you find yourselves together in the bustling Akar port with shopping lists in hand and a long list of specialized electronics and neural mesh wiring to obtain.

“...do Hybrasilians always press-gang their highest-ranked pilots into menial labor?” Angela asks, eyeing you in a way that suggests she’s seriously considering whether to lift you up and carry you over her shoulder to better navigate the crowd, Dolly.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

This is nothing like Roevig. The street where you find yourself feels warm and close. The little table is a light, wooden thing in the shape of a circle, barely big enough to fit your bowl and a narrow tall glass with your tea. Steam still rises from the black lacquer of the bowl, and bits of some kind of green herbs and garlic and small pieces of noodle that were difficult to pick up are stuck to the bottom.
You’ve never eaten food like this. You could have on Akar, if you’d sought it out, but it’s not the mainstay there, and not what they bring Zaldarians by choice. It doesn’t taste like Hybrasilian cooking either: the herbs and vegetables don’t sit well with them, and some of the savory spices in these noodles would probably make Mirror gag.

You’ve never been in a place like this. The table is small because the restaurant seats its people so close together, waiters and waitresses expertly weaving their way between the tiny tables to serve the food. The low lights, tinted slightly reddish, make the space feel even closer and more intimate, as do the velvet curtains that cover the door. Only when someone new comes in is there a moment of white light that creeps into the space like a slash before closing up again. And yet there were so many places like this one. A street filled with little holes for any Terenian to duck into and eat, drink, or chatter if they can make themselves heard above the constant purr of background noise. None of this appears owned by any Empress, none centralized or in service of any knight nor lord.

You reached Horizon in a blind rush. Horizon, the name of both a system and its one habitable planet, stood for a long time as the edge of space for the Terenius Consortium. The Hyperlane to reach it was longer and the only exit point besides TC Prime led to a dead system with no useful resources and that still doesn’t have a name. The Consortium expanded to the galactic south instead, and only when all routes there were exhausted did they return to striking further out, eventually finding the Cerulean Belt beyond Horizon and coming into conflict with the rapidly expanding Zaldarians. But Horizon still sees itself as the edge of space, gazing out into the great unknown. It dedicated itself to making ships. Not mechas, but civilian ships for trade, transport, and exploration. Its shops fill with people, its ports bustle with trade. It is, after all, the gateway to the capital of the Terenius Consortium for the entire galactic east.

Five years ago, you wouldn’t have been allowed here. There are still very few Zaldarians at all, and equally few Hybrasilians. This is squarely in TC space, and it’s filled with Terenians. But you are allowed. The virtue of the Arena meant that raiding stopped and travelers, though rare, were permitted. The Aeteline received no more than a few low whistles at your arrival. Few people here know enough about Zaldarian designs to even realize the unique nature of the Aeteline. To them it just looks like a damn nice ship.

So you were a stranger but only remarkable as an oddity rather than a sensation. You moved yourself to one of the myriad of restaurants along this row, and you ordered the noodles that were the biggest picture on the menu, which they brought you along with hot tea. Sitting in this crowd with the constant rumble of conversation around you feels like being wrapped in a blanket of vibration and warmth. In that space, you devoured your meal before you had even known it.

As you stare into your bowl in reverie, you feel the lightning bolt of a very light tap as a Terenian girl sits next to you and tries to get your attention. Despite the heat, she’s wearing a red cape over her port jumpsuit, for no purpose beyond its look as far as you can tell. Her long hair, dyed bright pink and worn down below her shoulders, shines brightly compared to the room lights.

“Hey!” she says brightly, flashing you a Terenian smile that she’s probably hoping you’ll understand as friendly. “I saw you come in here, but I’ve never seen a Zaldarian tourist ordering noodles before. I know this is forward of me, but do you want to be in a movie?”

***

Isabelle

After the library, Asil insists on ice cream. Someplace smaller and deeper into the city of Akar Prime, further away from the port and out where there’s mostly just housing. People here all watch the matches, but they’re not catering to the pilots, and so when you go into Renaldo’s Scoop, you get simple ice cream and not fancy concoctions that someone is hoping will make it on camera.

When you’re seated, and with whatever is your favorite flavor, Asil sits behind you and massages your shoulders. Then she sits down with you and starts her own icecream, coffee flavor. “You know, since I met you, I keep seeing you how eventually come around. Isabelle Lozano is always panic first, then think of doing the wrong thing, and then figuring it out and doing what’s right. We’re gonna have to work on speeding up that cycle though.” She boops you on the nose with her spoon very gently.

“So…we’ve got time now and we’re way out of the way. So what’s the worst you think your mom could do if you stood up to her? Keeping in mind that you’ve already committed to doing all our cooking and earning our way as a mechanic.” She winks at you.

***

Mirror and Dolly and Entourage

[All Who Gather Feast After Hunting]. To always revere Grandmother Hunger, to give thanks for her reprieve, and to offer it to the pack. If there is such a thing, this was the origin of Hybrasil. To imagine the pack not as a static, tiny thing, but as a growing thing, gathered around the hunter, where those who are weak may feast with those who are strong.

Nine Forests, in her role as the head engineer and most in charge of Jade’s physical body, smiles a knowing smile that broadens to a grin as Dolly dances for the gathering and Nines gets to see the fruits of her own handiwork. In her heart, she thinks that this worship is something special for her as well because her paws worked in the name of her goddess to make it real. [Dolly takes a string on Nines.]

Six Stones, after her fourth drink, pulls her own shirt off and joins Dolly at the pole. She can’t help it. She’s always secretly envied her priestess. It’s why she teases. And in this celebration, safe and without worries for the next day (little knowing what Mirror will demand of her) she lets caution to the wind and grabs hold of Dolly’s collar and her wrists as she joins in the dance and lets Jade do what she will with such an impertinent worshiper. [Jade my take a string on Six Stones through Dolly’s entice on her behalf.]

Poor Matty Swimmer is wearing her little bell tonight just like Mirror instructed after their first meetings. After just one drink, she can’t keep herself from looking away but constantly glancing up at the dance, the blush rising in her cheeks to utterly consume her. After the third time she jingle jangles so loudly that she startles herself, she gives up any pretense and throws herself into Mirror’s chest, where she buries her head happily and looks for pets.

And Slate. Well, she’s certainly enjoying the show, but she’s not overcome. She sidles up next to Mirror instead, arms crossed, a smile on her face and a drink in hand, but with a face that says she’s thinking business. “So boss, you’ve got almost everybody you wanted, right? All the pieces lined up. The only one, besides Solarel herself, is the TC champion you met. Villajero. I watched her fight today. Outgunned her opponent in every way, but she let slip a little. She’ll change things up, but between us, I’m feeling a little reassured. The Ninetails has the firepower to beat her, even if that mecha of hers is [the beast who grew tall to eat the sun until Katchtenkirya tricked it into becoming drunk and spitting it out]. Just make sure you match her until you get your shot.” She sips and watches the dance, her other arm running over yours, her claw pressing on the skin to let you know she’s there as she runs it down through the fur.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle

The Emberlight came through your match pretty well. A lot (really a lot) of nicks and scratches from all the space debris, but you avoided any of the sort of exchanges that would have ripped it open or thrown key components out of place. You can run a finger along the exterior and feel the rough texture of the metal, cold and strong, reinforced in so many ways, capable of withstanding the force of movement when you direct it.

So, compared to your last couple matches, repairs are a breeze. The crew checks it over and tells you everything is looking A-okay, and you go and enjoy a drink and relax with Asil.

It’s only two days later, when you and Asil are cleaning up the paint job, that Asil insists on running a complete internal scan. Because sure it’s not needed after the fight, but thoroughness is important. No reason not to run it and make sure that everything is in perfect shape.

And that’s when she calls you over with a “hey!” that you can’t refuse and you find the internal override for the AI assistant. It’s a small round device attached near the computing core just outside the cockpit, barely larger than your first. But it’s not supposed to be there, and it’s capable of intervening between the piloting controls and the mecha’s actions, changing or simply removing your control. Who knows when it got there. It obviously hasn’t been necessary for whoever was planning to use it. Nobody caused you to throw either of your last two matches. Or took over during any of your maneuvers.

This could be sabotage from Solarel, it’s certainly in keeping with her previous matches. You might have even heard about how she supposedly broke into the Hangar and did something to Mirror’s mecha that caused the power to cut out during their match. The mystery of how still hadn’t been solved on that one. Though, the latest reporting is that nobody has heard hide nor hair of Solarel between her matches since the final tournament bracket started. Not even her own maintenance crews or the former owners of the Aeteline.

Asil, on the other hand, is giving you a look that says she thinks the cause is closer to home and the Lozano hangar might not be a safe place to speculate. What do you do?

***

Mirror and Dolly

The return trip is surprisingly easy for all the mess you’ve made of the field. Mines disarmed, the route to the Hangar is illuminated. There’s a need for support of Jade’s idol, which cannot properly walk after the severing swordblow. Though the cut is so clean that this might as well have been an opportunity to redo the central wiring to the legs.

There’s ample opportunity to discuss payment immediately. Perhaps with Dolly firmly held in the arms of a powerful opponent because Jade’s cult is more than happy to allow Mirror to be the one to pull Dolly from the cockpit once the idol is secured.

And then there is time to relax. In private. Or with loved ones. Matty is ready to rave about how Mirror used her sword the second you prompt her that it’s okay (but she’ll be a very good girl and not say anything without permission until then), and many of the crew are ready with refreshments and relaxation on both ends. Nine Forests has a full report on Jade’s repairs and proposed design updates whenever Dolly wants to hear that too. This isn’t the party of the opening fights or celebration of getting into the finals, but every match matters now and they’re all big and important in their own way. Besides, from here on out, it’s a champion and then it’s…well, would it even be worth the run if it isn’t Solarel at the end?

***

Solarel

There is nothing and no one to stop your departure. But in the void between planets, it is not your mind but your body that gives out first.

Absorbing energy directly from the Aeteline can only go so long. It starts with a sort of itchiness under your skin. Then a feeling of stiffness, joints that want to settle and not move. You know this sensation, though it has been some time since you’ve really felt it with all the work you’ve done in Akar to stay constantly hooked into new plans, new work, new efforts. But your body is tired, it has cycled and released its energy so many times and even you, of all beings, cannot simply sit in a mecha cockpit forever. You need food and rest, a new source of energy, a chance to stretch and to properly sleep.

Will the Walker of the Mountain brave civilization in Akar? Or seek succor elsewhere?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle

“It’s not” Marna says as she attempts a dodge while still recovering, taking half the shots as they slice holes into her mecha, her breathing labored as she discharges yet another round of entry.

[Marna takes insecure in addition to already being hopeless and angry]

“You still don’t understand me, Isabelle. I don’t think I would beat Solarel. Besides her, I’m the best that Zaldaria has to offer. I’ve beaten pilots from Hybrasil and your Consortium. In war, and in the arena. And I still don’t think I would beat her. But I could try. I’ve got enough power, enough speed, enough defense that if I read her strategy correctly, I’d have a chance at winning. It’s possible, that’s what you need to understand. If you couldn’t beat me, it wouldn’t be possible for you to win that fight. But you have. If we keep going, you’ll either tear me apart slowly or you’ll close in and finish things with that laser dagger. So, I yield.”

She relaxes, but makes no move toward the Hangar entrance just yet. “You’re an incredible pilot, Isabelle. Winning or losing against Solarel won’t change that. You don’t need to beat her to prove you’re good. And you won’t stop being good if you don’t beat her. Especially, her! She makes winning about…about understanding, not skill. If you fight with her in an empty field with only blades, I’m sure you’d win. If you got to decide on everything in the battlefield, you’d win. But you don’t get that! You get an unknown.”

She pauses to breathe, then continues. “You’ve already beaten a champion. Don’t you dare forget it. If…if you need to win to prove you’re good enough, you still haven’t found the right reason to fight. Keep looking.”

[Take insecure as the final response to the fight.]

***

Solarel

The fight is over in less than a second.

You kick. The crab leg cracks the ground, pushing with intense force, balanced with the other leg through the intensity of your practice. Thrusters fire at maximum force, combining with the jump to carry you to Maelia faster than any crystal fire drive can move a mecha.

An ionic blade was precisely the right choice for this move. The intensity of its energy cuts through the shell created by the twin crystal fire drives. The strike is precise, perfectly targeted to account for the Supernova’s motion as it finishes the last round of firing. You pierce above the cockpit and cut off the control from the pilot to the power source. Emergency systems kick in immediately and the shield shuts down. The entire mecha shuts down in an emergency stop. You’re familiar enough with Hyabrsialian technology to know that from Maelia’s perspective most lights have gone out and she’s in free motion, bracing for impact, taking advantage of Hybrasilian eyes and instincts once disconnected from controlling her machine.

The Supernova drops like a rock, landing more or less on its legs and then falling backwards into the foliage.

Though your blade is unharmed, the interference from the strange energy has caused a slight decay on the front of the Aeteline’s upper chest where you got closest, and as far as both geist and nanobot are concerned, that small area of the body simply ceased to exist.

[Fight response: creating an opportunity for Isabelle]

Once it stops and settles, the hatch pops open and Maelia pulls herself out. She’s looking up at you and speaking unassisted, but with the Aeteline’s perceptions, you can easily understand her. “Thank you!” She’s saying. “I way overtested in space combat, this was incredible data for combat on planetary surfaces or on-station situations.” And you can tell she’s grinning.

***

Mirror

The jackals are defeated and lie around you. The combat space is narrowed and potential mine locations revealed. What is left last of all is merely the speed of the dancer who feels the nip of your blade and jumps into its embrace to score just one more hit.

How does the final exchange go?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle

“You know you might be throwing the match this way, right? Yeah, good. It would be stupid if you did it without knowing. But doing it while knowing…that’s good.”

She sends a signal for videoscreen, so you can see her directly. The image comes on, a very tall Zaldarian woman with drab grayish coloring that wouldn’t stand out in contrast to her personality. She’s smiling, and her head is tilted just a little.

“This is the kind of move that changes matches, and it’s not a dumb one. Sometimes you press your advantage and it’s exactly what your opponent expects and they’ve got an ion cannon lying in wait for it all along.”

“That’s how Solarel thinks because she fought in war, she was deployed to carry out the Empress’s will, win at all costs. There’s no trick or trap that’s beyond her and no reason to hold back from using them. Raiders are different.”

She flexes her shoulders up and rolls her neck, a motion lightly reflected in her mecha as it withdraws to a safe distance while she talks. This particular match has been a match of terrain and closing, and promises to remain as such as she recuperates.

“You have to think of us as playing a bigger game. We had holds with non-combatants at fixed locations, constantly being skirmished over in the border space. If I showed up and raised an entire colony to the ground because it made a good distraction to intercept a shipment I cared about, you Terenians would have escalated wildly in response to that. Every mecha for three jumps would have converged on me, maybe blown up my entire hold in response. So even if I got away personally, what would I get away to? It changes what’s possible when you’ve got something you’re protecting.”

She chuckles. “I’m pretty sure this translates, but tactics serve strategy. You know that sort of expression, right? You Terenians teach the same thing in your military schools that we Zaldarians teach from our graying elders in the wilderness. Our goal as raiders was to grow our holds: get enough resources for everyone, enough willing artisans and crafters and even farmers and builders to support the pilots, who protected them. Expand territory, eventually build up enough good people to go found a new hold in new territory. It’s how we leapt so quickly from Zaldaria to your borders, and the cats borders all at once. That’s not how the empress herself fights though, nor her great knights. And especially not a knight like Solarel, deployed so far ahead of everyone, all by herself in a newly manufactured machine of war. No constraints, no limits, no repercussions for her. Well…no repercussions until she lost the favor of the new empress and the old empress alike. Call it long-term repercussions. I wonder if she planned for that, planned for how her reputation would affect her life. I kind of doubt it, doesn’t seem like her style.”

“Do you know what she’s seeking now, though? I can tell you that. She wants Mirror, the Hybrasilian pilot. Wants to beat her, wants to capture her I think. You could tell from her big match with Mirror already, the one she lost. She hasn’t put anything near the resources she did for that match into anything else since. And there are stories about them among the Zaldarians, though they’re just rumors since she got banished and nobody ever got a proper account.”

She offers you a shrug. “I guess I didn’t really tell you how to beat her. But that’s what you have to consider. She’s not aiming at you or at me. She’s looking for the fastest, most efficient, tactically best way to get past us and get at her real target. If you want to beat her, use that against her.”

***

Solarel

She goes full burn chasing you, crashing through the smoke screens and doing her best to keep you in range, or just full burst after you. You race ahead of the fire, and stray lasers scorch the Aeteline, sending energy shuddering up your limbs.

[Take frightened]

Seconds pass as the chase continues, roaring past the edges of the fire and through the forest, laser blasts withering sections of trees and baking the earth. She does not explode in a massive core overload, but something is happening.

The Aeteline is shielding you, but whatever Maelia is doing, as she lowers her flight to chase you, it’s harming the arena. This was all built by nanobots, and where the supernova flies, it seems like they are breaking down in surprising ways. Parts of the terrain waver and shimmer. Animating geists within the system are being melted away and the laws of physics aren’t behaving properly, solids acting like liquids under forces that shouldn’t exist. There aren’t a lot of details because you’re both moving too fast, but she’s leaving a wake behind her and it’s tearing things up.

This is a little bit beyond you. The Zaldarians are much less known for their technological experimentation than the Hybrasilians or Terenians. But you understand that this is an effect of the drive. Of multiple drives. This, something like this, is the reason that multiple drives are not combined. It’s the reason that no manufacturing center, no god of any template is supposed to come out with multiple drives. The Aeteline was, as far as you were aware, the closest one could get, with as strong and direct an energy drive as could safely exist (and that arguable as to the safety).

By all rights, this ought to be happening to Maelia herself: she’s at the center of this energy, after all. However, that doesn’t appear to be the case, as she and the Supernova are maintaining the chase. She’s found some way to offload or counteract this problem, creating a zone of safety for herself. While that does mean that she is not experiencing core overload, there’s no way to know if this is simply a permanent state of her mecha, whether it has a time limit, or whether there’s some ongoing randomness to what she’s doing that could eventually catch up with her.

This does present a host of new tactical options. But even the sniper of the Kathresis who missed Akaithon’s head in the heat of battle by scant inches may want to have some care with this. If you manage to breach whatever protections she’s set for herself without stopping the drives, there’s a very real chance that Maelia could be killed.

***

Mirror, Jade, and Dolly

Your match is one of two getting major viewership at the moment, though you have no way of knowing this. Marcina has already won, and Isabelle has disengaged while the combatants speak. Solarel and Maelia are in a chaotic battlefield, and the two of you have engaged at close quarters, offering the most exciting moment to moment fight action. Everything is at high speeds and split seconds as you continue to press in melee and with point blank explosives.

Jackals are careening forward, ready to close the gap and assist their master as fast as they are able. Mines surround the position, and the whip, for all its power, is relatively locked in place, its range of safe movement limited to only a handful of vectors. There’s an opening to try and counter its assault with the jackals in play.

But those jackals are not as fast as the whip’s tails. Tail 2 is inoperable, but tails 1, 5, and 7 are active. And with this frenzied assault, tails 3 and 8 are ready to come online.