Cath

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Silbermine fell asleep early, content from a hearty meal of foraged fruits and fungi. He woke at dawn with aches in his joints but a ripple of excitement in his stomachs. His ears twitched - he could hear more Glen making camp, down the hill.

He called two retainers who worked quickly to fit Silbermine’s barding. Then he gathered Sir Sweven and most of his Glen-at-arms, and headed for the sound. Just a few Glen remained with the camp, entrusted with a horn to sound the alarm if the Ascendency tried anything.

They had to skirt the Jotunheim’s burned out clearing to traverse down the hill. Silbermine looked out at the magnificent, broken temple as they did so. It still awed him to think that this enormous mass once flew through the sky. He was determined to find out how.

He turned his gaze out towards the marshes of Sudenúr. A cluster of brightly coloured tents fluttered in the morning breeze. The ground around them was abuzz with activity already. Engineers organised the supplies they’d brought, and knights marshalled their servants to build shelters and defences.

Silbermine clopped down the hill, tracing back the trail of destruction the Jotunheim had left in its wake. The assembled Glen all looked up and came to greet him. They’d conversed the previous evening, but Silbermine was quick to take some of their vellum and retreat back to his tent. From there he had carefully scribed a series of letters and edicts for his supporters back home and across Mythadia.

His message was clear - he had discovered a new race of peoples on the edge of this sorry March who were supremely powerful and in possession of vast wealth. Silbermine entreated them to send Lightning mages as quickly as possible. He called in a lot of favours, but also dangled the carrot of exotic knowledge, divine enlightenment and unimaginable treasure.

When Silbermine reached the crowd a second time, he gestured to Sir Sweven and took the letters, holding them aloft.

“The righteous might of Mythadia shall be with us in our quest to learn from, partner with and protect these Humans. Who will go forth and deliver my will to our friends and allies?”

There was no shortage of volunteers. Silbermine picked his most loyal soldiers for the task. He then sent a group of Glen to Ertiseda to find a tailor and bring them here. It was an Ascendency town, but with a large minority who visited Mythadia regularly. He didn’t foresee major problems if the Glen were respectful.

Finally, Silbermine set to establishing a party to look for this ‘large box’ the Human captain Zey had mentioned. This took a significant amount of time, as many Glen wanted to get involved. Too many, as it would leave the camp open to attack. The squabbling lasted a long time, and after a while Silbermine smelled cooking up on the hill.

Taking his leave, Silbermine clopped back up the hill with his entourage in tow. Cresting the ridge the Jotunheim sat on, Silbermine spread his hands to show he was not a threat.

“Greetings! We go to look for this ‘large box’ you speak of, Humans. We beseech you to join us and bring your practiced eye to this hunt.”

Silbermine drew nearer and saw they were cooking fish. His stomachs rumbled, even though he could not eat what was on offer.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

“Hmmmm.” Zey’s eyes narrowed, and she looked up into the many eyes of Kerchak, the bird creature standing before her. She hadn’t figured out any of the body language cues that made communicating with fellow Humans much easier.

“Ok, how about this. If you can find someone to vouch for you, I’ll allow you to heal all of the wounded crew and passengers without pay. You can learn more about our anatomy, but I never want to see you turn into one of us without my permission. We’ll have a big problem, and we don’t like big problems, do we Ezra?”

Zey looked at the armoured mercenary stood with his big gun next to her.

“Can’t stand them, ma’am.”

Zey looked back at Kerchak.

“I’ll have some of the wounded brought out today so you can get started.”

Zey’s earpiece pinged, and Anselm came through comms.

“Department heads to the conference room to finalise supervisor allocations.”

That would mean Mallory (who was head of the command crew when she wasn’t needed for executive decisions), Zhao Jiayin (engineering), Eva Edwards (Survey), Edward Fortin (Science) and Duncan Feng (Medical).

---

The Department heads hustled into the conference room - they were all busy but equally keen to secure more resources for their teams.

“I don’t need stupid people in my team. Give me sensible ones who’re good with their hands.” Zhao kicked off the meeting on a cordial note.
“Hold on, you’re not the only one who needs people who’re good with their hands, Zhao.” Feng replied in a calm, even tone.

“Though at this stage i’ll take anyone who won’t faint at the sight of blood.”

“We all need sensible people who’re good with their hands. But I wager that in the science team curiosity is the trait we’re in most need of. The equipment is all fairly self explanatory! The pieces that still work, anyway.” Edward Fortin chuckled.

---

Zey stalked over to the commotion surrounding what appeared to be some large fish.

“Dr Lambert, we have some more alien food here - can you bring the testing kit please?”

She then addressed Shirik and Dr Ibarra.

“Nice catch. Where did you find this?”

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

@gatemirage

"Ah, a force mage! Interesting...How much weight can you...pull?" Silbermine replied, not stopping the onslaught of fruit entering his gullet.

"Temple or not...it is evidently of great importance to them...And so worth protecting." The sound of wood chopping, clanging metal and clopping hooves filtered through the draped entrance to his tent.

"It is not so much falling apart, as about to fall down...the hill i mean. So i suppose the first thing I want you to do is assess the likelihood of that happening. As fast as possible. Forces are already in motion beyond your wildest imagination! Now please, my Glen-at-Arms will give you something to eat before night draws us to sleep."

With that, a barely perceptible wave of the hand signalled for Subira to make herself scarce.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

“Realistically, how long do they need in the sim?” Zey asked Ezra. They stood in the shallowest part of the trench around the Jotunheim; overlooking the marshes and trail of destruction the ship had left as it spun. At this point, it was only knee high, you were only covered if you sat down.

“Minimum, so I'm happy they have a gun around me? Thirty hours. But becoming a soldier is more than just hitting targets. They have to learn to manoeuvre as team. Use comms effectively. I did say it is best to train people from day one but…”

“Yes, I know. I don’t want to get the civilians involved because they’re fucking terrified, Ezra. I’m only doing this because I have to. It's my crew who will get the flak from them, not you.”

Zey watched the rapidly expanding camp of Mythadians down near the bottom of the hill. More of them were arriving all the time. The Ascendency had sent more troops as well. She sighed.

“The sim is going to be too slow, isn’t it? If we bring them outside, how many can you train?”

“You have the guns to teach twelve people Tironut at a time.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Tironut. Israeli army training. My team trained militia in Kenya.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to the civilians and reassure them first. I’m not looking for an armed mutiny.”

They were interrupted by a Tekeri. Zey glanced down at her tablet and Wodan informed her that this one was Kerchak, the shapeshifter. They asked about helping the wounded in exchange for studying anatomy.

“I will be honest with you, Kerchak. I don’t like the idea of anyone of you impersonating a Human, at any time. However, we could use some help with the wounds our people have sustained…"

Zey had a thought.

“Can you only turn into an exact copy of the things you study? Also, do you study your subjects at the same time as healing them? Or is that a separate process? The reason I ask is that we are going to cremate…burn some of our dead today as a…mark of respect. You may study those corpses, because then we’ll know it's you if you ever shapeshift."

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

“Good morning, sir.” Clara Anselm replied from the comms desk. She didn’t turn or look at Mallory. She was leant toward one screen, controlling a spider droid as it inspected a crumpled tangle of metal that had been partially embedded in the mud.

“More aliens arrived down the slope.” She reported, carefully teasing what could have been a comms dish out of the pile.

“Silbermine went and visited them just now. Looks like some of them brought buttresses to install - Cap told me to flag if they start coming closer. Armament is hot. Fuck!”

The spider drone had flipped the devastated comms dish over to find not just a gouge down the middle, but a large, squishy caterpillar type bug stuck to the metal. Anselm flicked the joystick and the spider drone squashed the dish hard against the ground.

A light blinked on Mallory’s console and a message from Zey blinked up on screen:

“Good morning!

• Wodan has finished programming the live-fire sim. Start weapons training regime for passengers and crew round the clock
• Prepare bodies for external cremation
• Circulate list of passenger work assignments, designated supervisor and rota

Ta
ZK”

Wodan chimed in straight away after its eye tracker concluded Mallory had finished reading.

“I would recommend using the Recreation Room to host VR simulations. I have programmed a step by step weapon handling tutorial and three hundred and sixty degree firing range sim. I’ve also mapped every weapon in the armoury for use as a ‘controller’. I would recommend unloading the weapons before allowing untrained supplementary personnel to handle them.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Silbermine returned to his camp with mixed emotions. So caught up in his own thoughts was he, that the Lord didn’t even notice Subira approaching his group. It was one of his retinue who greeted her and invited her to join them.

On the one hand, Silbermine was jubilant that he’d met with these strange new people and managed to make his proposal. They were clearly in need of help, and their ‘commander’ had been open to the idea of participating in The Running, so he counted that as a win. All this talk of rare metals was a big bonus that he fully intended to exploit at a time of his choosing.

On the other hand, he was furious with the rabble that had seemed intent on insulting him and his station. Silbermine realised the Humans had even contributed in some ways to the assaults, now he’d had a chance to go back through the events in his head. He would need to assess whether these Humans could be loyal to him or fickle, playing both sides.

It was only after they’d arrived at camp and Silbermine had changed into something a little more practical that he was informed that a stoneworker and surveyor had arrived. He was getting a little agitated that all the reinforcements he’d ordered hadn’t arrived yet, but at least this was a start.

Silbermine had Subira approach him in his tent. It was spacious inside but sparsely furnished, with only a few large cushions and low tables. Silbermine was kneeling on one such large cushion, eating from a bowl of fruit.

“My Glen tell me you’re a stoneworker. What do you make of the Humans’ temple? Have you seen anything like it before? I promised the Humans engineers who could buttress their temple, stop it falling apart. Tomorrow you will make your services available to them in the name of House Silbermine. See if you can gain access to the inside - I wish to know more about this thing.”

---

More soldiers and artisans loyal to Silbermine began arriving shortly after, trickling in from the countryside all around Keraknúr as word spread of their Lord’s great campaign. In all they numbered forty by the end of the day. These Mythadians set up a separate camp at the bottom of the slope, near the edge of the marsh where they could marvel at the Jotunheim with uninterrupted views.

This trickle of Glen and Tekeri continued in the early morning. They chattered excitedly - there had been strange sounds drifting across the marshes all night. Could the Warden of the Northern Passage really be nearby?

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

“Flash bangs, not tear gas, Jotun Actual. A little fire wouldn’t be so bad in this situation, all things considered. Please advise.” Fret Chappel replied. He had a flash bang in his left hand, index finger stuck through the pin and ready to pull. His other hand grasped his rifle while it pointed towards the ground. He was wearing full gear including a black full face helmet.

Eva was in her Javelin nearby, standing protectively over the compact comms relay and several cases of equipment they had just set up. The towering mech whirred whenever it moved, so she was remaining very still to avoid startling the natives.

The range of hills had wonderful views from the little flat clearing at the apex they’d chosen. On one side was a forested basin with a lake partially visible through the trees. Mountains reached for the sky as far as the eye could see. On the other side was a dramatic vista of the floodplains draining into a vast body of water.

Fret wasn’t interested in that right now though. Surrounding them (but staying at least fifty feet away through the bushes) were half a dozen leather-clad Tekeri with bows. They looked quite dishevelled and appeared to have daubed their feathers in some dark red substance. It stunk when the wind carried it.

---

Zey gave a thumbs up to the Glen blacksmith, slightly creeped out by what she assumed was a smile. She put a hand up to her ear instinctively when Mallory came through.

“Copy that. Ibarra is Oscar Mike, as are some of the natives. Prep a team - nobody touches the comms relay except us.” Zey replied to Mallory after he reported what was going on further up the hill.

She signed off when all the natives began speaking to her. The first was Vigdis, who like many of the crew was very good at slotting in immediately after she’d finished on her comms unit.

“Alright, so we figure out if this planet contains the minerals, get the natives to mine it, then Arancini smelt it for them. Right Arancini?” Zey called to the Jotunheim’s machinist.

Immediately following Vigdis was Kareet, the well preened scholar.

“We’re happy to tell you about the Human race. We’re not comfortable with anyone pretending to be us though.”

Zey shot a glance at Kerchak, who she’d heard openly discussing the possibility of mimicking her crew’s appearance.

“I’ll let my engineers discuss the details of your electric…magic. But that is much appreciated. Thank you.”

Next was the spooky flaming tree.

“We may need food, depending on how long we stay. Is there game in these parts?

Finally, Zey turned to Nellara, who was occupying a strategic piece of dirt between the Glen lord and as many of her crew as possible.

“Yes, of course I understand. Right now though, my crew is in danger from some Tekeri on your territory. Shall we go and figure this out before someone gets hurt, hmm?”

---

The hunters chattered loudly to each other in a dialect that Wodan’s translation software was having trouble deciphering.“What are you saying?” Fret shouted. A few of the Tekeri started forward; they could be startlingly fast when they wanted to be.

“Hey hey hey!” Fret yelled. He pointed his rifle straight up in the air and pulled the trigger.

A loud rifle crack sounded out, rolling down the hillside and echoing off the closest mountains. Fret raised his other palm, with the flash bang in it towards the closest hunter, but there was no need. The Tekeri instantly recoiled at the gun and scattered, running back behind nearby trees and dense bushes.

---

Zey heard the shot and instantly craned her neck to look up the hill. All the Glen jolted, fighting instinctual skittishness.

The Captain connected to the Bridge again, a hint of urgency in her voice.

“I heard a shot, what's happening?”

It was Fret Chappel who sent a blanket message to all comms units via the new relay.

“This is Chappel. Contacts are gone, for now. Over.”

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

“Arrogance is thinking I need a title to slay you where you stand, Castigator Silbermine shot back. It was taking all the restraint he had to maintain a civilised dialogue while being berated at every turn. A twig snapped at the edge of the clearing, and all the Glen ears twitched to listen in. More of Silbermine’s retinue were watching, waiting.

Silbermine turned his attention back to the Human with a lame leg. Frankly he was confused by what they were saying. First, the tiny golem on its arm seemed to confirm they had declined his offer without a moment’s thought. Then they claimed to have come from celestial heavens so far removed that even the gods hadn’t reached them. Silbermine thought briefly of the sky at night; giant constellations of twinkling lights, and was awed all over again.

Then the Human started saying things that he had no understanding of. The golem translator’s long winded unpacking of the concepts was lost on Silbermine, and for a moment his focus drifted to the flaming Iriad of the group. It had shown open spite, but it was clearly a magical being. A champion like that could be a worthy substitute for these Humans if they weren’t willing to help him. His eyes narrowed slightly as the Iriad met his stare.

During this time, a couple of the Humans had talked to the Castigator, and then the lame one offered a demonstration while also claiming magicks too advanced for him to understand. Silbermine huffed and his eyes narrowed even further. He was starting to dislike this one. He did relish the slight note of concern that appeared to be creeping into the Castigator’s voice. They were growing insecure that the Humans may be seduced by the promise of gold and glory.

This was when another Human addressed him. He thought it could be the one he had thrown a currency band to days ago, but it was hard to tell - they all looked alike. What this one said sent a thunderbolt up his spine. Now it made sense why they knew not of the gods! Silbermine boomed a satisfied sigh when Itxaro addressed him again about the Running. The Castigator jumped in at this point, evidently desperate to distract him from his purpose. He replied to her quietly when she came closer.

“You talk of war when that surely visits ruin upon these noble sky people. I am merely offering them coin, expertise and labour in exchange for their help! What do you offer, beyond empty platitudes?” At this point, another Human appeared, carrying some glasses and a red liquid. Silbermine sniffed the proffered glass before Sir Sweven took it. The vessel looked tiny and awkward in his gauntleted fist. The knight took a sip, checking for poison. Glen had their own intoxicating beverages, it seemed Sir Sweven would have preferred those to the strange Human offering. "What is this wine made of?" He asked Arancini.

Silbermine talked around Nellara to Dr Ibarra. “The track I intend to enter has twelve Korunds.” The translator unpacked that as an ‘approximate measure of distance similar to a furlong’.

“I believe I know the perfect role for you in this, Humans. One component of the second Korund is for foreigners who DO NOT know of the gods we worship to gain patronage from a Monastic Order for the House of their benefactor.”

Silbermine didn’t elaborate, because this task was actually one of the hardest feats to achieve. The Monastic Orders exacted a pound of flesh from any champion who dared ask for patronage during the Running. But the rewards from this Korund were huge - Monasteries and Orders in general were fabulously wealthy off the fat of their flock. Gaining patronage from them was a sure way to secure a dynasty.

“Besides that, there are countless opportunities for valour and glory. I require many champions this year, including magic users - what say you? I have never witnessed your ilk before, Iriad. You could be a hero!” The last bit, Silbermine directed towards Shirik.

It was at this point that Zey arrived outside the camp. She’d crossed the trenches that’d been dug around the Jotunheim so far, inspecting their integrity as she went. The rocky terrain made them shallow and irregular, barely shoulder-high on her, but they were better than standing in the open.

All the while, she was listening to the conversation (and occasional argument) unfolding in the camp. So when she arrived, Zey didn’t waste any time. Her tone was firm and measured. She gestured between Nellara and Silbermine with all her fingers pressed together like a teacher might reprimand pupils, despite being half their size. She didn’t even have her plate carrier on.

“Our ‘golems’ are not for hire right now. They’re busy preparing for the arrival of two armies because you can’t put aside your differences. I want to make our position quite clear - we come in peace and want to trade goods and knowledge with both of your nations. But we’re also ready to defend ourselves if threatened. Our kind have fought each other for over ten thousand years; we’ve gotten very good at it. Please don’t make us prove that. Now here’s what you can actually help us with instead of trying to maim each other.” Zey used the fingers on one hand to outline the separate points.

“Firstly, power. If your magic can jump start our…furnace? We’ll take as many people as you’ve got. Secondly, clothing. Our air is different to yours - our clothes could catch fire at any moment. Do you have tailors? We need uniforms. Third, a very large box and lots of small boxes fell out of our ship before we crashed and I want them back…We’ll also need more food samples to test, and water…Am i missing anything?” Zey looked around at her crew for help before resuming.

“In return, we can provide highly refined metals like aluminium and titanium. You have a blacksmith here - you is welcome to test anything and everything we trade” Zey waved at J’eon as he came over.

“I will consider sending a delegation to the Running if…we have a sworn guarantee of safety. We will definitely want to be paid for our participation, thank you Dr Ibarra! We’ll also meet any important people you think we should meet… Do we have a trade?”

Zey looked at Nellara and Silbermine, nervous now she’d finished her monologue. The inhabitants of the Jotunheim had an exceptionally weak hand; she could only hope she’d played it with some element of flair.

As if on cue, the ship’s lights flashed three times. That was the signal to return to the ship. Zey pressed the earbud connected to her comms unit.

“Zey to Bridge, do we have a problem, over.”

---

“Sir, they’re still approaching the comms relay. Fifty metres and closing. Translation software is saying they want us to remove the ‘evil totem’. Chappel is requesting the authorisation of non-lethal rounds to disperse them.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

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The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

“Sir, the mobile relay just came online. It's Edwards and Chappel.” Comms officer Anselm called to Mallory on the bridge.

“Initial scan activated.” A large spherical grid appeared on the Navigator’s interface. A detailed 3D model of the area surrounding the relay’s position on top of the hill the Jotunheim had crashed into began to appear. It was 526 metres away and 167 metres higher up.

They were positioned in the middle of two other similarly sized hills, with verdant valleys running between the three. To the ‘south-east’ appeared a large forest - the scan highlighted a few bodies of water and (with lower certainty) some possible structures hidden within. To the ‘north’ was the floodplain visible from the Jotunheim itself.

One of Anselm’s comm panels squawked - she quickly put on a headset.

“Jotun Two Zero this is Jotun Actual. I read you - what is your status, over?”

Anselm listened intently.

“Copy that Jotun Two Zero, hold for orders, over.”

The comms officer spun in her chair to address Mallory.

“Sir, there are more of those bird things approaching the relay. Edwards says they’re dressed like hunters. Our team are requesting instructions.” This sort of situation was within the XO’s remit. It evidently required a quick reaction and he was clearly in the best position to respond with the Captain elsewhere.