Cath

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

“Thanks. Still hurts like fok.” Varen replied, accepting the leaf from Vigdis with his free hand. His South African accent was weak after decades spent with the ESA in Europe, but resurfaced when he spoke in Afrikaans. Usually for slang or to say something really inappropriate.

Varen knelt down and gently leant his Benelli against a protruding rock.

“Doc says that I have a herniated disk which is pinching some nerve.”

He straightened up, took his boonie hat off then pulled off his mask and hooked it onto the bandolier of shotgun shells around his waist.

“The pain would go in a couple weeks if I didn't spend all day stuffed under the floor fixing fokken cabling.”

He shoved a wad of grilled fish into his mouth and chewed, eyes flicking around to take in the scene before them.

“No, but that sounds like ECOWAS every other month. I hope Cap knows not to trust any of these aliens, if our own species is anything to go on…do all these guys know each other?” He gestured vaguely towards the feast.

---

Esedel’s reptilian eyes narrowed at Shirik. A noise like one of the Humans’ Geiger counters rumbled in her throat.

“Ahh, I know. Do you have a penchant for Damage? We stopped a game in the camps some decades past; caught a rogue Thought mage who continues to serve me.”

Esedel swept an arm towards the manacled S’tor flanked by Inquisitors who stood some way behind her. They winced. The Warden looked back at Shirik.

“I thought I smelled burning then.”

Damage was a forbidden card game in Mythadia. Players are linked with a Thought mage that allows each to project emotions at the others. The object is to make other players under- or overestimate their chances of winning, to make reckless decisions or even induce them to commit suicide. Spectators can tune in to the players' inner turmoil and thoughts, activity which can be addictive and hazardous to sanity.

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

“Walking up the hill now. They left their mounts at the bottom of the hill. Mean looking motherfuckers. See?” Anselm put a feed from one of the Jotunheim’s remaining exterior cameras on Mallory’s screen. The left hand-side showed six large figures traipsing up the incline. The right hand side showed three tank-like quadrupeds fidgeting nervously on the edge of the swamp.

“They move quick. I’m not sure I can dial the cannon in for a second shot at the mounts quick enough if they charge.”

---

“...draw prey to the darkling plain, brother.” Esedel rasped, squeezing Kvarr’s shoulder and looking down at him with a razor-sharp smile before letting go.

Zey tore her gaze away from the Warden to an equally imposing, if very different-looking and acting, S’tor. The Deep Work she’d glanded had steadied her nerves considerably.

“Pleasure to meet you as well. My thanks to the Archmagister. We can certainly eat; we were going to go look for something that fell from the ship, but it can wait a little longer. I’ll have the crew bring out our passengers and we can make some introductions.” She didn’t deign it necessary to explain where the S’toric echo that translated everything she said was coming from.

Silbermine grasped General Kvarr’s hand and gave it a hearty squeeze. He felt much more confident, now that his greatest warrior had arrived.

“Never let it be said that House Silbermine came unprepared for a feast. I’ll have my bannerglen bring up beer, bread, and music!” Placing three fingers into his snout, the Glen noble produced a loud whistle with four distinct notes. Noise from the camp down the hill increased immediately.

Tyreese Darnell had been finding different ways to work out since the rec area was given over to living space. That morning he’d been furiously deepening trenches with a spade while listening to vigorous music. But now even he had noticed that others had appeared. He appeared around the side of the ship, his large bare torso glistening with sweat and the bottom of his mask fogged up.

“Captain, what's happening?”

Zey looked at him.

“We’re having lunch! Put a shirt on, for God’s sake. Zey to Bridge, you can stand down. They’re here to help negotiate peace, I think. Mallory, come on out here with the wounded and any civilians that want to stretch their legs. They’re going to have to face these aliens at some point. Balance of power may never be so balanced again.”

Esedel clapped Kvarr on the back as they moved towards the hastily arranged table and grilled food station. To S’tor it was just a friendly pat, but it probably would have knocked an unprepared Human flat on their face.

“Brother, you have lost weight. What do they feed you in the Ascendency? Soon you will be shorter and weaker than me!” While the Warden was taller than her male counterpart, she was still a little lighter.

Esedel clapped eyes on Nellara, who was close to Kvarr.

“Well met, Castigator. Do we owe the disciplined organisation of Tekeri soldiers to you?”

---

True to Silbermine’s word, the Glen did their best to provide a feast. Being herbivores, it did involve a lot of shrubbery and fungi, but the sweet and sticky cask beer more than sufficed at washing it down. The minor nobility that had answered Silbermine’s call for aid all scaled the hill to join the meal; they took off some armour and grouped together around their master to eat and drink. Soon they were laughing and slapping the table while recounting tales.

Zey sat down on a crate at the head of the table closest to the ship and nibbled on the piece of fish Shirik had given her in a leaf.

The wounded came out, as did a dozen of the more courageous passengers. Thankfully, there were just enough masks. Danny Varen came out on his break with a shotgun to watch protectively over them. His bald, masked head was covered by a camo boonie and his skinny, pale tattooed body was covered by a grey sleeveless vest emblazoned with “ESA” and blue cargo shorts. Dr Lambert came back out as well.

Darnell helped himself to a draught of beer then began helping others, watched curiously by the natives.

“Vigdis, Itxaro, beer?”

Esedel had a voracious appetite, devouring her food like someone may steal it from her at any moment. She glanced over at Shirik in between mouthfuls. As the administrator of one of Mythadia’s biggest refugee camps at the Northern Passage, she was desensitised to strange beings and fantastical mutations. But now, up close, she felt an unplaceable sense of familiarity.

“You. Have we met before? Your smell is…familiar.” Esedel blinked after trying to catch Shirik’s attention; her eyelids slid horizontally over her grey-blue eyeballs.

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

“As soon as possible, sir. Please advise.” Dr Lambert replied to Mallory as she clanked up the telescopic docking ramp back into the Jotunheim.

“Sir, we’re tracking multiple large foot mobiles.” Clara Anselm contacted Mallory from the Bridge.

“Captain has requested the rail gun be made ready.”

---

Esedel stalked up the hill, trailed on either side by her two guards. Behind traipsed one of the Thought mages from her Northern Passage bulwark. They were closely flanked by their handlers; their manacles clanked as they stumbled up the rocky incline.

The six S’tor were followed up the slope at a distance by some of the Glen vassals from the lower camp. Perhaps they had heard of the stories surrounding the Warden, and wished to see history being made for themselves. Or perhaps they just didn’t want to be left alone with the Zarseaks, who bayed and scratched at the earth as they watched their riders depart.

As she climbed, rasping breath escaping into the warm late morning air, Esedel studied the thing everyone had come to see. A large, flattened house made of metal, fallen from the sky carrying strangers who spoke in tongues. As soon as she heard the news, she knew she had to see for herself. The sight didn’t disappoint.

As they scaled the hill, avoiding the large fragments of wreckage around them, a crowd of people came into view on the ridge. They had been spotted. Esedel identified Silbermine first, some Glen and Tekeri soldiers next. Then she spotted some short, smooth-skinned creatures wearing peculiar masks - were these the unimpressive specimens what all the fuss was about? The smell of cooked fish pervaded her nostrils - her stomach contracted and her mouth filled with saliva.

Then she spotted Kvarr approaching with an armoured Castigator and a hooded Iriad. She smiled, revealing long rows of sharp teeth.

Esedel looked down on everyone in the assembled reception party when she finally reached the flat clearing. Without acknowledging anyone else, she strode over to Silbermine and knelt before him, both arms crossed across one knee. Even in this pose, her eyes were not much lower than his.

“My lord…”

Her voice crackled like a forest ablaze and caught in the wind. It sounded unlike anything else Zey had heard before, sending a shiver up her spine and wrinkles across her face.

“I have answered your call, and am yours to command.”

The Warden stood again. For a moment, Silbermine was speechless. Then he nodded and gestured to Zey who stood beside him.

“This is Zeynap, the leader of the esteemed Human clan. I hereby command you to keep them safe from all harm, as our honoured guests.”

Esedel stared at Silbermine until he started to shuffle awkwardly, then turned her whole body to stare down at Zey; goosebumps rippled along both the Captain’s arms.

“Zzsssseynap…well met.” She hissed, lizard tongue poking out of her snout as she leaned down closer. Two icy blue eyes bored holes straight into Zey. She was so shaken by this S’tor that she’d unconsciously begun glanding Deep Work again. Her hyper sensitive hearing picked up the reassuring click of the safety coming off Ezra’s rifle from behind her.

“P-pleased to meet you, erm…Warden.”

Esedel nodded like a cobra, mesmerised by the snake charmer’s instrument. She then rose to her full height and addressed everyone, looking at each person in turn.

“Greetings, I am Esedel, Eternal Warden of the Northern Passage of Keraknúr. We have travelled a long way, and are very hungry. We would eat with our friends from Mythadia and from The Ascendency.” Her gaze fell to Kvarr at the end.

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

Dr Lambert squelched back toward the ship. As she got a bit closer she pinged Jack Mallory.

“Sir, the Captain has made a deal with the aliens. They’re going to help heal the wounded. Personally, I can’t wait to see what happens, but I don’t know my way around the civilians yet. Do they all have masks? Do we just get them out here and see what happens? I could use some help.”

---

“Copy that.” Zey replied to Ibarra.

“I look forward to our hunt.” Silbermine beamed, top lip folding up to reveal tombstone teeth.

The engineer then promptly left, leaving the Captain alone with Silbermine. His retinue stood in a loose pack behind him, watching the Tekeri camp nearby. There was a moment’s awkward silence.

“I have sent for tailors from a nearby town. They will bring the finest material.” The Glen began.

“Ah, perfect. Thank you. I was meaning to ask about that. I will ask the Ascendency as well.”

Silbermine scowled slightly, but carried on regardless. Zey couldn’t really discern his expression.

“Stone workers and engineers have arrived from across Mythadia. I’ve commanded them to begin work shoring up the ridge. Your temple is on unstable ground. Also, they can help buttress the walls to help prevent-”

“Lord Silbermine, we appreciate all your efforts. You have certainly been proactive with your aid…but I must insist you proceed with caution around my ship. It is very heavy but also very fragile right now. My crew are busy repairing the superstructure, and any changes to the lay of the land could undo all their work.”

Silbermine scratched his snout, thinking.

“I understand. The last thing I would wish on you is more destruction. What then can we do with these resources?”

It was then Zey’s turn to stroke her chin.

“What about fortifications?”

Silbermine’s ears flicked back violently. Zey thought it was in response to her question, but then some of his retinue turned and stared back out over the marshes.

Then she heard it - a blood curdling wail, like nails on a chalkboard. It wafted in from the North.

Within seconds, the Glen camp down the hill was alive with activity. An incredibly loud, bassy horn sounded.

“The Warden has come!” Silbermine breathed. His voice was equal parts excitement and…fear? He turned to look to the North as well. Zey walked to his side and squinted. She couldn’t see anything.

“Who is this Warden?”

“She protects the Northern Passage in the name of my House. A fearsome S’tor warrior.” Another horrible sound rolled up the hill, and Silbermine covered his ears.

“Ezra, tell me what you see.” Zey looked at the soldier, who was aiming down the sight of his rifle some three dozen paces away.

“Three big creatures with people riding them. They’re fast. Want me to take them down?”

“No, not yet.”

She looked to Silbermine.

“This is needlessly escalatory.”

“Quite the opposite! Wardens do not leave their post often. The Ascendency should feel honoured.”

After a few more moments, Zey was able to pick out three objects skimming through the lightly wooded marshes. They had long legs, big mouths and purply green, tractor-sized bodies. She couldn’t tell if they were naturally that cover or if they’d just been submerged in brackish water. There were tiny figures clutching their backs.

Zey turned off her translator and activated comms.

“Zey to Bridge, we have three bogeys approaching the lower camp. Track the leader and be ready to fire on my order.”

The creatures were nimble and fast for their size, picking a safe path through the marsh to the Glen camp in a matter of minutes. But they didn’t seem keen on getting close to the Glen that rushed out (hands over their ears) to greet them. Instead they let out vicious roars and stomped on the ground til the assembled reception moved back to at least forty paces. Their riders then got off.

All were in armour and carried big swords and shields on their backs, though the leader caught Zey’s eye. Their armour had exquisite yellow and green detailing that was clear to see, even from a distance. They were also very tall, head and shoulders over some of the Glen even with their antlers. They moved calmly and purposefully, but their whole frame was packed with tension. Like they could explode into action at any second.

This new group approached some of the watching Glen and exchanged a few words. Some people of the camp then pointed up the hill, to the Jotunheim. Behind the newcomers, their beasts promptly heaved like cats do when they’re coughing up fur balls. Opening their mouths, they each ejected a slimy figure onto the ground. Two helmeted S’tor guards and a manacled S’tor Thought mage.

Together, they made their way up the hill towards the Jotunheim.

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

Zey eyed Dr Ibarra carefully, then glanced over at the flaming Iriad.

“Shirik did save you earlier. They seem to know the area well too. Though if you think one of the birds would be more suitable, I'll leave it up to you. I would prefer you take one of the crew as well though. Maybe Bosko? He can fly the shuttle back with you in it if it's still intact. Failing that, one of the survey team.”

“Toxicology looks good. What else?” Dr Lambert interrupted.

“Thanks. Would you bring the wounded outside? Some of these creatures claim to be able to heal them.” Zey replied distractedly.

Dr Lambert sighed.

“Aye aye.”

“What say you?” Silbermine asked politely, fingers knitted together.

“We’ll go with you - we’re just deciding who will go. Can you guarantee our protection?”

“Commander, the citizens of Sudenúr look to me for protection. You can expect the same consideration on their territory.”

“Very good.” Zey purred, picking up the rest of the fish steak and taking a bite.

---

Dr Fortin scowled, then looked down at his belt buckle. “Alright. I’ll set something up.”

Dr Feng nodded solemnly. “Copy that.”

“Oh, also!” Zhao Jiayin piped up again.

We need to take cannon offline for three, maybe four hour tonight to inspect rotary system. That’s ok?”

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

Zey’s eyes widened slightly out of concern when Ibarra told her about their close encounter that morning. She reached over and gave her crewmate’s shoulder a squeeze.

“You’re still quite wet even now. That climb back must have been hard work.” She chuckled lightly, then looked to Shirik.

“Thank you. For looking after my crew, on the water and with this delightful fare.” She nodded gratefully and listened as the burning tree explained the longevity of the meat they had prepared.

“If this protein isn’t harmful to us, I’d be interested in negotating for a steady supply of cooked produce. We have enough artificial food to last a while, but fresh fish would make a nice supplement. Is that something you’re interested in? What would you need in return?”

Zey took the leaf with a hunk of fish on it.

“Thank you.” She looked around. Lo and behold, Dr Iris Lambert was skirting round the Jotunheim towards her, having exited the ship holding a handheld device. Zey waved her over.

Shortly after, she could hear the sound of multiple Glen approaching. Zey turned and saw Silbermine with his retinue cresting the ridge from down below. They were armoured, but with their weapons sheathed. Silbermine’s set really was impressive, she though. He even had gold rings and religious-seeming ornaments attached to his antlers that shone in the sun.

The dynamic in the camp instantly changed, yet the Captain stood her ground.

Silbermine spread his arms and began talking. Zey’s translator didn’t pick him up at first over the distance, with the first words being ‘large box’. It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about.

“What? Oh, large box! Yes. Are you hungry? We were just cooking some lunch.”

“I’m afraid we cannot eat such things. We do have some mushrooms (or at least a close approximation, Wodan assured them.) that cook nicely. Go fetch them.” That last part, Silbermine directed to one of his people, who duly cantered away towards their camp.

Zey turned to Ibarra as Silbermine approached, turning the translator off.

“I’d send the survey team but one of them has to be with the comms relay until we can be sure the hunters don’t come back. No one is leaving with them unless they have a buddy.”

She activated all-crew comms.

“Do i have any volunteers for an EVA to retrieve the shuttle and cargo from the swamp?”

Dr Lambert arrived at the makeshift dinner table, staring at Silbermine.

“Fascinating.”

“Food first, Glen later. Here, test this fish steak.”

Dr Lambert took the proferred leaf, tore off a bit of the flesh and stuck it into the small box that clicked out of her device’s underside.

---

The Captain’s request for volunteers came in right after Mallory asked for questions. Zhao chimed in immediately.

“Finding shuttle is menial task, the civilians can do that, right? My engineers are too valuable.”

“Oh, will that be in the marshes? I’d like to take some soil samples. However, i have some concerns about Dr Lambert inducting the new recruits into the department…” Dr Fortin murmured, trailing off.

“I can have my trainees bring the bodies out for cremation as per your last message, sir. My only question is when you want to do that?” Dr Feng asked.

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."