《Knights of the Eternal Beacon [Sci-fi/Apocalypse]》


 Ch. 1 — Absconding With Alien Technology

    On the morning Auntie Em rattled up the driveway in her ancient pickup, hauling what looked like some kind of UFO, my father met her and immediately started yelling. Aunt Em hung her arm out the window and flashed him a self-satisfied grin. She must have said something smart because he stopped his tirade real quick, dumbfounded.


    I watched this exchange, eagerly, from the bay window of my room. I just wished I could hear them. Maybe if I was quick, I could catch the rest before they knew I was watching.


    Aunt Emma was my favorite person in the world. And not just because she had free reign to piss my dad off. She was an honest-to-God war hero, and a Knight.


    I threw an oversized sweater on over my shorts and T-shirt, and ran barefoot down the stairs to get a closer look. No way I was gonna miss this.


    My little brother Matthew trumpeted something to his friends over the sound of clanging swords from the tv in the living room.


    ¡°Hey! We got company!¡± I yelled at him.


    ¡°It¡¯s my sister,¡± he said over his headset, talking to some other kid over the Rhode Island Intranet. ¡°It¡¯s not the kind I can pause!¡± he said back to me, eyes still transfixed and blearily reflecting the screen.


    ¡°I know, ya dummy, but it¡¯s Auntie Em!¡±


    ¡°Oh, dip,¡± he said, tearing his headset off and running to slip on shoes next to me. ¡°Why didn¡¯t she tell us she was coming?¡±


    ¡°I think she didn¡¯t want to give dad the opportunity to say no,¡± I replied, yanking the door open and stumbling out.


    Autumn was here, like here here, in Rhode Island. Orange and yellow littered the lawn and the trees swayed in the wind, a shimmering sunset of color. My father¡¯s greasy face shone red from the chill wind as much as yelling.


    ¡°You can stay,¡± I heard him saying as I crashed against the porch railing, straining to hear. ¡°But I¡¯m not letting you put whatever that thing is in the barn!¡±


    The wind was in strong from whatever direction was to the left of me, and sent my dark curls dancing in my vision. I should have thrown it into a bun. Aunt Em didn¡¯t have to worry about her hair getting in the way. Her mother wasn¡¯t around to tell her how to keep her hair. Or well, I guess neither was mine since she was all the way in Provenance, working for the mayor. But her influence was felt. Aunt Em ran her fingers along the short cropped sides of her hair, a habit she¡¯d kept as long as I¡¯d known her.


    ¡°Look, Gregg,¡± she said, ¡°where else am I gonna keep obviously stolen contraband from the Dreadnaught? You want me to park it right in the drive?¡±


    ¡°Hell no, Emma! Jesus!¡±


    Auntie Em just raised her eyebrows and gestured to the barn behind the house. My father cursed and walked back towards the porch.


    ¡°So I can put it in the barn?¡± she called back to him.


    ¡°Just make it quick, Em!¡±


    His eyes turned to me. I gave him my sweetest ¡®I¡¯m your youngest daughter¡¯ smile in an attempt to diffuse any anger. He sighed and smiled sheepishly. He didn¡¯t like yelling around me. Doesn¡¯t mean it didn¡¯t happen, just that he felt bad about it afterward.


    ¡°Hey, Kat, baby. I was going to make a frozen pizza but now that your aunt is here¡ª¡± the way he said ¡®your aunt¡¯ seemed to imply it was a stand-in for some harsher term. ¡°Now that she¡¯s here, maybe we should make something else?¡±


    ¡°Dumplings?¡± I offered.


    ¡°Why not?¡± he replied.


    ¡°Yes!¡± I pumped my fist in celebration and looked at Matthew. We high fived and ran in unison to get the kitchen ready. I was halfway to the kitchen before I realized that maybe this was all to get me away from Auntie Em so I didn¡¯t see what she was up to in the barn.


    What my daddy didn¡¯t know was that Em, and I were tight and she was probably going to show me anyway.


    My father stormed past, as Matt and I got the fillings started. He reminded us to make sure to season the filling, and continued up the stairs to his office. He wasn¡¯t one to skip out on helping us make dumplings, but he also was working on some academic paper for the University. I also knew that he liked to drink when my aunt was over, so maybe he was off to do that.


    Who knows?


    I frowned and grabbed the pre-made dumpling sheets from the fridge.


    ¡°What¡¯s the deal between dad and Auntie Em anyway?¡± Matt asked after we¡¯d been working for some time.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly,¡± I said. ¡°Something about the war? And apparently when Nona got sick, dad had to take off work to help, and Auntie Em didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Matt said to himself. He was ten, so he was capable of some amount of thoughtfulness. If only in short bursts. ¡°But wasn¡¯t she off fighting to save the world?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Greg doesn¡¯t see it that way,¡± Emma Gallahger said as she strode into the kitchen, a fresh sheen of sweat on her brow, and a roguish smile on her moderately chapped lips. Em was only two or so inches taller than me, maybe 5¡¯6¡± or so, but she always seemed to tower over us. She wore a classic jeans and flannel combo that accentuated her broad shoulders, and even without those two inches her legend would have dwarfed us anyway. She was larger than life.


    ¡°Auntie Em!¡± Matt shouted with the enthusiasm of a kid. He tackled her around the waist before Em picked him up and swung him around.


    I hung back and waited for my turn. I was thinking maybe a side hug? What was appropriate for an 18 year old?


    Em set Matt down, and opened her arms out to me. Ah, crap. I was gonna have to go in for a real hug.


    She pulled me in tight, and I was surprised to find myself squeezing her back.


    It had been a while since I¡¯d seen her. I must have missed her.


    As I broke from her hug I asked, ¡°yeah, what¡¯s up with you and dad?¡±


    ¡°Only twenty years of grievances and a heap of Catholic guilt. What¡¯s this?¡± she asked, promptly changing the subject. ¡°Dumplings? Man, I was gonna show you how to make carbonara!¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°What¡¯s carbonara?¡± Matt asked.


    I wondered too, but was far too cool to show it.


    ¡°¡®What¡¯s carbonara?¡¯ You have me seriously considering calling child services.¡± Em answered. ¡°What would your Italian ancestors say? But I guess I¡¯ll help with the dumplings.¡±


    ¡°Carbanara?¡± Matt asked. ¡°Or is it pronounced Carbo-nara?¡± he asked, gesturing in an offensively over italian way.


    ¡°Of course it is!¡± Aunt Em said, and then putting her fingers together in a mimicry of Matt¡¯s super-Italian stylings, and exaggerating the syllables. ¡°A-car-bon-ara!¡±


    I tried not to laugh, but I couldn¡¯t help it.


    Aunt Emma¡¯s fingers were long and thin like mine¡ªthe fingers of a musician, she sometimes said¡ªbut there was a ruggedness to them that mine lacked. My nails had clear polish on them and the tips of my fingers were soft. Hers had a chipped fading black polish, and were rough where she had developed her guitar-playing calluses. When she pinched the dough around the filling, her fingers moved with the sureness of long practice. Mine were not nearly as good, and Matt''s left holes that she had to go in and fix for him.


    Em made everything look easy. She always said that it was the benefit of an early retirement, that she got to practice as many skills as she wanted. But I liked to believe that it was some kind of magic. I never saw her mess up.


    You don¡¯t always know which moments are the ones you are supposed to savor. This was the last time the three of us would be together like this, and had I known it... well, maybe it would have ruined it. Maybe it was perfect as is. Just the three of us in the kitchen, being silly together.


    Once we were done, and the dumplings were in a steamer on the stove, Auntie Em excused herself to head back out to the barn. As if knowing it was safe, my sister Ruth came down the stairs not thirty seconds later.


    ¡°Hey Mattie, go turn off your game! The electricity isn¡¯t free.¡±


    ¡°Oh spit!¡± Matt said, ¡°what time is it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, ah,¡± Ruth looked at her watch. ¡°A little after seven?¡±


    ¡°Oh, jeez! I gotta be at a raid right now! Can I play for¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure, go for it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks Ruthie!¡± he said as he rushed into the other room.


    For the next couple minutes it was just the two of us.


    ¡°How is your audition practice going?¡± she asked after some amount of awkward silence.


    I was only just starting to appreciate the fact that she wasn¡¯t trying to be bossy. Our parents were both busy and she must feel like she had to step in to keep us on track. I wasn¡¯t able to appreciate that then, though. Then, I was just annoyed.


    I felt like it was always the audition. It was all anyone talked about. I practiced every morning and every evening on the damn thing while my father, my sister, and sometimes mom watched over my shoulder like some kind of vulture.


    Not only did they care about my education, but they claimed that it was ¡®vital to preserving our human culture in the face of the encroaching galactic hegemony.¡¯ Not sure what that meant, but it always seemed a little xenophobic to me.


    ¡°I got to watch the stove,¡± I said.


    ¡°I can watch the stove if you need more time. And have you chosen your personal selection?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I keep changing my mind.¡±


    ¡°What about one of your own¡ª¡±


    ¡°Juilliard wouldn¡¯t be impressed by anything I¡¯ve written.¡±


    I put my finger in a pile of salt on the counter and swirled it around. I should have just gotten a paper towel and cleaned it up, but it gave me something to look at that wasn¡¯t Ruth Gallahger or her concern.


    ¡°Who cares about Juilliard?¡± Aunt Emma said as she strode back in. She ignored my sister, and my stunned silence, and opened the fridge. Finding what she wanted, an apple, and closing the fridge with her foot, she leaned against the counter and began cutting into the apple with a pocket knife. ¡°All the best music teachers are on the Dreadnaught.¡±


    ¡°Despite The Aliens poaching all our best talent,¡± my sister said sharply, ¡°Juilliard is still one of the best music programs in the world.¡±


    Auntie Em popped an apple slice in her mouth and chewed loudly for a few seconds before offering, ¡°sounds like something your father would say. But you haven¡¯t been to the Dreadnaught. It¡¯s what the world should be: Everyone working together for the good of humanity. Juilliard is working for the good of the dollar.¡±


    ¡°Humanity, Auntie Em? Or the Somnifer?¡±


    Regardless of anyone¡¯s feelings about it, the Dreadnaught was the technological and cultural center of the world. It was the headquarters of the Knights of the Eternal Beacon, and the thing that had kept us all from the abyss those many years ago.


    Auntie Em shrugged and looked to me.


    ¡°How¡¯s your mom doing by the way?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Still working for the governor,¡± I replied.


    Emma made a thoughtful sound and seemed unbothered by the silence that stretched on after.


    ¡°Let me know when the dumplings are ready,¡± Ruthie said as she strode out of the kitchen.


    Suffice it to say, dinner was awkward. Dad and Emma kept the small talk up, while Matt interjected with details about whatever was going on in his video game. Ruthie seemed kind of quiet and sullen. I tried to pry as many details from Aunt Em about what she had been doing the last couple of years and what the heck could possibly be in the barn. My every advance was parried by Auntie Em¡¯s practiced nonchalance. I wouldn¡¯t get much out of her with my dad around.


    After dinner, Auntie Em disappeared again. I went to work on my audition. The Beethoven piece was still kicking my ass, and it was too late to switch it to Schubert.


    My phone called out to me on the piano rest. It would be so easy to just give up, and flop down on the couch, and scroll through Rhode Island Social forums or waste time on Intranet video hosting services. I almost succumbed, when I got a text from Aunt Em:


    Claire Kennedy headed down drive


    Then:


    Come find me in barn when you get away


    And not two seconds later:


    Bring workout clothes. Leggings are fine.


    Auntie Em was a triple texter.


    Also, crap. My mom was home.


    Claire Kennedy-Gallagher was just shy of five feet of imposing career woman. She wore suits or athleisure wear equally well, and never seemed to stop moving. Until the end of the day, that is. She flopped down on the living room sofa, and my sister rushed to massage her feet.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine Ruthie,¡± she said, throwing an arm over her face dramatically.


    ¡°I know,¡± she replied, ¡°I like doing this.¡±


    Claire raised her arm just enough to give her eldest daughter an appreciative smile, then settled in.


    I stood from the piano and rushed to get my mother a pillow.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Ruthie said in a whisper.


    After thirty minutes of dodging questions from my mom about my Juilliard application performance, I was able to sneak up to my room successfully. Em had said ¡®workout clothes.¡¯ I wasn¡¯t totally sure I knew what she meant. So, I wore my workout leggings, threw a sports bra on under my t-shirt, put my hair up, and called it a day.


    From my window, I could hear the crickets chirp, and spy the leaves rustling across the lawn in the wind from the light that spilled from the house. Auntie Em carried some tools from her truck to the barn, stopped midway, and looked up at me. She smiled as if to give me permission to follow her. She had a weird sixth sense like that. Even unintentionally, I¡¯ve never been able to sneak up on her.


    There was something in the back of the truck, something strangely shaped and covered in a plastic tarp. I wish I¡¯d been more curious about it. Maybe I could have averted disaster.


    I waited for my mom to move from the couch back to their room, which didn¡¯t take too long. I waited for the sound of the TV, then crept out the back door and around the house to the barn. Ruth watched me suspiciously, but was apparently feeling generous and didn¡¯t narc on me.


    Making it to the barn, I steeled myself, checked my bun to make sure it was up tight, then reached out for the sliding door. It slid open, seemingly of its own accord.


    ¡°Took you long enough,¡± Aunt Em said, grabbing me by the hand, and pulling me in.

 Ch. 2 — The Song of Creation

    The barn was absolutely festooned with Aunt Em¡¯s tools, and building materials, and junk. How had she fit all of that in the back of her truck?


    In the middle of it all sat the thing, whatever it was she had hauled up here with her truck. It curved in a largely circular shape, and looked distinctly like Somnifer tech I¡¯d seen in magazines and TV. If Aunt Em wasn¡¯t Aunt Em, I would have been afraid to even be near it. The Aliens didn¡¯t let just anybody get their hands on things like this.


    ¡°What the heck is that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°A fabricator,¡± she replied, like I should know what that is. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°What are we doing with it?¡±


    ¡°Nothing right now,¡± she jumped up on a bale of hay, and patted a space next to her. ¡°Come sit.¡±


    I laughed, and joined her.


    ¡°What are we doing here Auntie Em?¡±


    ¡°We are going to make you a suit of armor.¡±


    She let that sink in. Her eyes reflected back calm. But under the surface of that calm was something scary. It spoke of a kind of seriousness, and determination I¡¯d not seen from her often.


    She was serious about this. That was terrifying. My heart sped.


    Emma Gallahger had fought with the original Knights of the Eternal Beacon. When the war came to what we used to call the United States of America, she was too young to enlist. Several years into the war, we were running out of Knights. A seemingly endless supply of robots poured from the rifts, and at first there were just the twelve Knights.


    Emma enlisted in that second wave of recruits. Like I said before, she quickly became a legend.


    We¡¯d always talked about me maybe joining the Dreadnaught, but that was after Juilliard. That was sometime in the future. What had changed? Why make my armor now? And why unsanctioned by the Aliens? What was happening?


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding,¡± I said, knowing with everything I was, that she was in no way kidding.


    ¡°Do I usually joke about stuff like this?¡±


    I leapt down off the hay bale, and paced around the barn.


    ¡°Why now? Aren¡¯t we committing intergalactic treason, or something, by making unsanctioned armor?¡±


    Knight armor was some of the most technologically advanced equipment in the universe. When the Reformed States of Columbia, of which Rhode Island was a founding member, had announced their intent to poach Knights to fight for them exclusively, the Aliens had gone to war. Aunt Em was one of those that hunted down the rogue Knights herself.


    Aunt Em played with her pocket knife in her lap, opening and closing it absentmindedly, silent for a second, before responding.


    ¡°Not technically,¡± she answered.


    My mind reeled with the implications. I couldn¡¯t say that I wasn¡¯t floored by the idea. My own armor. It was everything I¡¯d always wanted.


    You spent your childhood afraid of the robots, the metal men that would drag you out of your bed screaming, and whisk you off into the night never to be seen from again. Every year, your class had fewer and fewer kids. I¡¯d stopped expecting the friends I made in school to be the same from semester to semester. Many of those kids fled with their parents to some new opportunity.


    Some lucky few made it offworld.


    Others just¡­ disappeared.


    Being able to fight back was every kid''s dream. Not only that, I¡¯d grown up on Emma¡¯s stories.


    She had been at the Siege of Paris, where Commander Parker and Dara and the rest of them had stopped them for good. She¡¯d fought alone at the Battle of Golden Gate, holding off an entire army by herself until all she had was her sword, hacking through dozens by the second. I¡¯d seen video of her dropping from a helicopter at 15 thousand feet, and landing without so much as a scratch.


    I mean, even if it wasn¡¯t my dream, who wouldn''t want to be able to do that?


    I looked at her.


    ¡°What do you mean about ¡®not technically?¡¯¡± I asked.


    She hopped off the hay bale, and walked towards me.


    ¡°I mean, If anyone asks who you fight for, as long as you say you fight for others, fight for the Song, no Knight could ever say that you weren¡¯t legitimate.¡±


    ¡°What about the Somnifer?¡±


    ¡°Eh,¡± she replied, ¡°they¡¯re a big deal, but the Knights transcend species and planetary culture. They may pretend to be the rulers of the verse, but they¡¯re just as scared, and broken as we are. And they always need more allies.¡±


    I looked to the fabricator. It had tubes on one side and what seemed like some kind of hatch on top. I could see in the dark window in the hatch little mechanical arms. I wondered if I said yes, how quickly it could make the armor. How quickly could I change my life forever?


    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®the Song?¡¯¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s kind of esoteric, pre-Somniferian lore. We can talk about that later.¡±


    The soft glow of fluorescents lit her face as she leaned against the fabricator. She gazed out the window of the barn. I could see some of who she had been back then, gallant, a hero. But she wasn¡¯t that anymore.


    Could I do this? Back when Emma had talked about me joining the Dreadnaught, it was all some far away thing. I¡¯d always assumed I would be assigned a support role with the men. To be a Knight?


    ¡°Why did you quit?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I got injured,¡± she answered.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I waved to get her attention, ¡°Auntie Em. It¡¯s me. If we do this, I have to know what happened to you.¡±


    Emma sat back down on the hay bale. Her green eyes seemed distant, as if she were recalling a memory she didn¡¯t much relish.


    ¡°There¡¯s a piece of shrapnel in my leg. If I do a high G maneuver in my armor, or get hit with an EMP, it¡¯ll rip right into my femoral artery. I could bleed out, internally, in seconds. But honestly, if I still believed in what Dara was doing up there...¡±


    I sat down next to her. Her eyes snapped to me.


    ¡°Look, kiddo,¡± she said, ¡°there is a reason I brought the fabricator with me instead of sending you to the Dreadnaught. Bureaucracy is a bitch. If you want to do some good, you have to get out there, and do it with your own hands. And people like me have lost the plot. We don¡¯t have the right headspace anymore. It¡¯s up to the young to go out there, and change things.¡±


    My own hands. I looked at my hands. Long, thin, a lot like hers. Was I just trading one family member¡¯s expectations for another? Dad wanted me to be the musician he¡¯d never had the opportunity to be. My mother wanted me to make money. Aunt Em wanted me to follow in her footsteps.


    But what did I want?


    I wanted to be brave. I wanted to never be afraid again. Hell yeah I wanted this. Also I also couldn¡¯t say I wasn¡¯t curious what it would be like to meet an alien. In the pictures they seemed so alluring with their green skin, and the flower crowns growing out of their heads.


    It all seemed like a grand adventure. I was wrong, but you couldn¡¯t have told me any different back then.


    ¡°Look,¡± she said. ¡°You don¡¯t actually have to make any big decisions yet. We¡¯re just making the suit. It¡¯ll only take us a couple of days. It¡¯s up to you to decide what you want to do with it.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said.


    ¡°Okay?¡±


    I smiled in spite of myself. I could feel the rush of doing something without my parent¡¯s permission. The rush of doing something forbidden, something dangerous.


    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s do it!¡±


    The rest of the night wasn¡¯t very eventful. The machine scanned me to get my measurements. I ran around, modeling my movements for it. I even did some light sparring with Auntie Em. She could keep up. But I felt like maybe she was holding back. We talked about what kinds of stuff I¡¯d want the armor to do. I had some expectations about that. I¡¯d spent quite a bit of time on the Intranet talking to other KEB stans about what they could do.


    Stolen story; please report.


    I wanted something maneuverable, something with a highly flexible Field Application even at the cost of a lower Estimated Strength Augmentation. Something with a unique sensor array. This meant we were probably gunning for a Dragoon Class armor platform, but a Runic Class may work as well. Aunt Emma sketched some designs out on a pad, and worked to help me understand some of the technical details. I wouldn¡¯t have a gun yet, since that was one of the more difficult things to manufacture, but my aunt had brought her old sword.


    I unsheathed it under the fluorescent lights, and suddenly it was all too real. It was heavier than I thought it would be for its length, maybe eight or so pounds, but well balanced. The blade was long and straight, and black, fading to white where it got diamond hard at the edges. Interlaid in the dark sheen of its blade was an intricate scrollwork in some script I didn¡¯t understand.


    I sheathed it, and we called it a night.


    After a night of talking back and forth about what was possible, and what we could do, I was buzzing with excitement. I crept past my parents room. They were talking in hushed tones. I didn¡¯t want to hear what they were saying, so I continued on.


    Alone in my room, I couldn¡¯t sit still. I didn¡¯t know the connection yet, I didn¡¯t know why, but I felt like writing. I sat down at my keyboard, plugged my headset in, and played different chords and melodies, struggling to put something together but not really worried about it, playing far into the night.


    When I slept, I dreamed in technicolor. And when I woke, I was still tired, but excited to face the day. What we were doing in that barn was important. I didn¡¯t know but that was one of the last days of ¡®normal¡¯ I would have for a long time.


    The next morning, I woke up early, and got the coffee started for my parents, like always. They''d be off to work soon, alongside my older sister. My father went to the University to work on site at Brown every Wednesday. I made a quick lunch for my little brother, for him to take to school, then took my earl grey outside. My Aunt was awake already too.


    ¡°We going to the barn?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not yet. I got a buddy of mine, or well, his kid. Hopefully he can help us with some of the finer details.¡±


    I just nodded, and we sat there on the porch in silence for some time. Dew shone on the grass, and fog hung in the air. The pink sky faded into a burnished silver. It was cold, but acceptable with my hoodie.


    I went back inside to work on my audition piece. My parents kissed me goodbye some time later. Then it was just Auntie Em and I, for a while. She seemed nervous. It was a look that I didn¡¯t see on her often. Maybe one time when we were playing Jenga?


    Some time later, Aunt Em, her friend, and I sat in the barn staring at the fabricator. Auntie Em¡¯s friend was named Darsh Mehta. He was probably a couple years older than me, had a well manicured beard, and eyeliner, and while he was attractive enough, he also sorta looked like, well, I think the term is an ¡®elder goth.¡¯ He wore a simple black jeans and a t-shirt combo, but I¡¯m fairly sure both were tailored, and he had a leather wristband with metal spikes on it.


    He wanted to be called DiDi. I got the feeling nobody called him DiDi.


    ¡°This is a bad idea,¡± he said. His voice had a slight British English accent to it that made him sound sophisticated. If he was one of my Aunt¡¯s friends, he probably knew what he was doing.


    ¡°Darsh,¡± she replied. ¡°It can work.¡±


    ¡°Look, I can shunt the signal when we power it up, and maybe jerry-rig a faraday cage to mask the power output, but all it will take is the Dreadnaught thinking to ping it while it¡¯s on, and we¡¯re done for.¡±


    ¡°Can you just crack it open, and cut the transmitter out?¡±


    ¡°Cut the transmitter? This is pre-Somnifer technology. I¡¯m a software guy, anyway. I could cut something vital, and have no idea what it was.¡±


    ¡°What are we talking about?¡± I asked.


    Darsh looked at me, and gave me a sympathetic smile.


    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m excited, as a civilian, to help you make Knight armor. It¡¯s a dream come true, honestly. But If you turn this thing on, I can¡¯t promise they won''t find us, and turn us all into a very red, very wet stain on the ground.¡±


    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± Auntie Em said.


    ¡°Oh? And you¡¯ve never killed someone trying to steal Somnifer tech before?¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s different. We¡¯ve already stolen it.¡±


    ¡°We?¡± Darsh said incredulously, ¡°Oh there isn¡¯t a ¡®we¡¯ yet, darling.¡±


    ¡°Eh,¡± Emma said with an exaggerated grimace, ¡°I mean it sort of is. You¡¯ve seen it now.¡±


    Darsh cursed in Hindi.


    ¡°Why are we even doing this?¡± he asked.


    I gave my aunt a questioning look. I wanted to know, also.


    ¡°Look, my niece is a once in a generation talent. And with the armor she¡¯ll be able to do a lot of good. The Dreadnought just isn¡¯t ready for her.¡±


    Darsh made a pensive noise, and thought for a moment before saying, ¡°well, dear, you¡¯ve already convinced me. I just had to put up a token defense.¡±


    He got to work immediately. They stretched some kind of fabric material over it, but after that, most of the work they had to do was typing on a laptop, and scowling.


    I didn¡¯t have much to do yet, so I put earbuds in, and listened to a podcast I¡¯d downloaded. I started sketching for a future cross stitch. It wasn''t a great drawing, but I¡¯d refine it in thread. This image of feathers kept cropping up. I wasn¡¯t sure what they were. Sometimes things just come out of you.


    Auntie Em said something I couldn¡¯t quite hear. I pulled an earbud off.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s a raven feather,¡± she said.


    ¡°Could be a crow feather,¡± I replied, fairly sure there wasn¡¯t a difference.


    ¡°Raven feathers are shinier,¡± she said, as if she could tell by my drawing.


    ¡°How¡¯s the work going? Is the Dreadnought going to come after us as soon as we fire it up?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°Then why push it? Why now?¡±


    ¡°Do you want to stop?¡± she asked.


    I paused my podcast.


    The truth was, I wasn¡¯t sure. Even though we haven''t done much yet, I still had this feeling, well, now that I imagined having my own armor I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about it. I couldn¡¯t put the idea back in the bag.


    I wanted this now.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that notation, there?¡± she asked, referring to the simple chord I¡¯d doodled at the top of the page.


    ¡°Oh, just something I came up with last night.¡±


    Darsh had headed back to the house for a soda, and to let some code compile, so it was just the two of us. Auntie Em hummed part of the chord to herself. Her face lit up.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me about this?¡± she asked.


    ¡°It''s not a big deal. I mean, none of it is very good.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. It¡¯s just...¡±


    Her eyes seemed distant. I could tell she was doing that thing where an adult was weighing whether they should lie or not. I mean I was an adult too, but your family never stops treating you like a kid even at 18.


    Eventually she said, ¡°so, what do you know about Plato?¡±


    If this was a lie, it was a very weird one.


    ¡°Uh. Teacher of Aristotle. Not a fan of art. ¡®Is the pious pious, if god loves pious?¡¯ Not much. Why?¡±


    ¡°Right. Do you know his whole idea of the forms?¡±


    ¡°Sorta?¡±


    Emma scratched her head, and continued.


    ¡°There is a world of perfect things outside our own that we draw inspiration from, right?¡±


    ¡°Sure. Like, in the world of forms is a perfect chair, and every chair in our world is just a reflection of it?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    I felt scepticism twist my face.


    ¡°Auntie Em. Why are we talking about Plato?¡±


    ¡°So, imagine that every book, story, song, they all came from a single place. Imagine that there is one single song that encompasses every single thing you could imagine. That is the Song of Creation. That is the thing the Knights draw power from. It¡¯s the thing that powers the design of their armor, and their field applications, like fire or lightning. The Somnifer believe that the previous inter-galactic civilization created it, and they revere it religiously. Other aliens just think they discovered it.¡±


    I suddenly made a wild connection in my head.


    ¡°That¡¯s why you named your armor Ferdiad!¡±


    Ferdiad was the name of an old Irish hero. I couldn¡¯t quite understand what the hero had to do with her armor, but I understood that she was tying her armor to a story.


    ¡°Exactly!¡± Auntie Em¡¯s face lit up in excitement. She grabbed my hand. ¡°This could be the beginning of the song we will write that will encapsulate the armor. This is more important than any blueprint.¡±


    ¡°Because it is the blueprint!¡± I said.


    ¡°Precisely!¡±


    I was suddenly aware of Darsh¡¯s presence in the doorway of the barn.


    ¡°What are you guys talking about?¡± he asked. He had three bags of chips in his arms, and a soda in each hand. I was honestly kinda impressed.


    ¡°Go finish that song,¡± she said to me. Then turning to Darsh said, ¡°I¡¯ll catch you up in a bit.¡±


    I stood, and ran out the door, across the lawn, and back up to the house. My parents would be home in a couple hours. I had to get as much of this song written as I could before then.


    Song writing is difficult, circuitous, painful work. But it was also just playing the piano, and writing down things that sounded good. I worked harder than I had at anything in my life. The armor was this close. I could feel it taking shape.


    Days flew by. I wrote music. I collected quotes, and images, and stories that inspired me. My aunt slowly, but surely revealed more about what the armor needed to be, and how it worked.


    All armors had these special medallions that formed its core. She refused to tell me where she had gotten the extra one, other than that it wasn¡¯t hers. Any one piece of the armor could be replaced except that one.


    The very first piece we made was the helmet. A thin hard band of plates would encircle my chin and ears, with a bubble of clear ballistic plastic covering the rest of my head for maximum visibility. I wanted to put it over my head so bad, but it needed to be connected to the gorget to fit correctly.


    If the fabricator was transmitting our location to the Dreadnaught, we didn¡¯t know either way. It was good enough that nobody showed up.


    Later that week, I sat on that same hay bale I had days ago, when she had revealed what we would do. Darsh argued with Emma about how big the nanite storage tanks should be. He was a bundle of energy once he got his soda.


    We eventually resorted to big two liters we kept in the fridge, to keep him topped off. If my parents minded him hanging around so much, they didn¡¯t say. I did my best to refrain from lying to them, and they didn¡¯t ask many questions since I was on the piano more than I had been. So, anyway, I was on the hay bale, when my eyes fell on the medallion.


    It was about the size of both of my hands put together. Circular, metal, with intricate alien script around it, it looked both incredibly mundane, and impossibly futuristic all at once. In the center was a shining blue crystal, not quite opaque. I reached out to touch it. I don¡¯t even remember when I got off the hay bale, I was just suddenly there.


    I am sitting on the balcony, my feet hanging over a drop of hundreds of feet. The crystalline towers stretch iridescent and shining in the sun to my left and right. I can smell the tea in the twisting, horn-like cup in my hands, it is floral and alien, yet strangely comforting. The barren blue grassy plain below me stretches on for miles. I know they are coming, and I am unafraid.


    I gasp, as if I had been holding my breath, and I¡¯m back in the barn.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Auntie Em asks.

 Ch. 3 — I Meet My First Alien

    Auntie Em¡¯s face scrunched with concern for a moment, then it softened.  Darsh typed away on the laptop.  I took a deep breath.


    ¡°Ah,¡± I struggled to get my mind in order.  ¡°I think I¡¯m okay.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a reaction like that.  You¡¯re not supposed to touch the crystal, by the way, that¡¯s what the disk around it is for.  What did you hear?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t hear anything.  It was almost like being stuck in a memory.  But not my own.¡±


    Emma¡¯s frown deepened.  She very carefully took the amulet from my hands, and set it back on the table without saying more.  If what I had experienced had been dangerous, I¡¯m sure my aunt would have said something.  Right?


    What was that?  What did I see?


    Sometime later, I paced over to where Darsh was, at the folding card table we¡¯d set up for him.  I could see a rough blueprint of what the armor would look like.  It was sleek, like a sports car, and only half a foot taller than me if I got the little numbers next to it right.  We¡¯d settled on a Runic configuration.


    ¡°It says, Ferdiad 2.0?¡± I asked.


    Darsh looked up at me, only slightly startled, then he answered while keeping his attention on the blueprint.


    ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± he said.  He clicked on the helm and started adding lines of code to what looked like the Heads Up Display.  There was some kind of interesting ring of sensors that floated around the helm. Not sure what that was for.  This was all too technical for me. ¡°I don¡¯t have a name for it yet.¡±


    ¡°What about Morrigan?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Ooh,¡± Auntie Em cut in, ¡°that¡¯s bad luck.¡±


    I looked over my shoulder.  She had a beer bottle in one hand, and played some sort of game on her phone with the other.


    ¡°Why not?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Armor platforms are always men.  Ferdiad.  Arthur.  Etcetera.¡±


    This was true as far as I knew.  I didn¡¯t know of any that were named after women.  But other than the two she named, I also didn¡¯t know many of their names anyway.  Arthur was Commander Parker¡¯s armor.  She was the most famous, or infamous, of the Terran Knights.  And there was my Aunt¡¯s.  It must be bad luck or something to give it out to the public.  It certainly had been for Arthur¡¯s pilot.


    ¡°Again, why?  Knights are always women.  Isn¡¯t it sorta misogynistic to name them after men?¡±


    ¡°What?  No!  Maybe.  I don¡¯t know.  It¡¯s just tradition.¡± She pointed at the laptop with her beer bottle.  She had a band T-shirt on today over some thermals.  ¡°Also some men are Knights, ah at least that¡¯s what¡¯s been speculated.  Or they could be.  I don¡¯t know.  It¡¯s just a stupid superstition from the Somnifer.  And it should be a hero, the name, not a mythical creature or god.  It¡¯s bad luck.¡±


    ¡°Fits with the crow theme,¡± I said.


    Darsh crossed his arms, and watched us with a look of annoyance.


    ¡°You mean raven,¡± Emma corrected.  ¡°Look if you want to go with a raven theme, why not Giddeon?  Or Owain?¡±


    ¡°I like Morrigan.¡±


    In the silence, only the whine of the laptop fan could be heard.  Darsh sipped his soda loudly.


    Emma hummed a tune I wasn¡¯t familiar with, then said, ¡°alright.¡±


    At the end of a week, Morrigan was three quarters finished.  We had the whole helmet system, and chest done, as well as the skeleton midlayer.


    It was coming along well!


    The ring that floated around the helm was the aural sensor array.  They would interpret my sonic environment, and encode the world into music.  Or something like that.  Once it was powered up, it should slowly rotate in a circle from my chin, around my ear and behind my head so it didn¡¯t impede my vision.


    It also was responsible for something called a Visual Projection.  I could see with my eyes, but to the armor, that was just one sensor ¡ª maybe the best, but not only.  Once I was in the suit, I could see more than what was just ahead of me.  I could see around me, and more besides.


    It wasn¡¯t long after that then, that the Dreadnaught found us.


    I was at the piano working my way through Morrigan¡¯s song, when a strange feeling overwhelmed me.  The feeling buzzed like something between anxiousness, and urgency.  Paranoia?  I think paranoia is the right word.  As I was playing, my fingers keyed dissonant chords without even thinking about it.


    Something was wrong.  I grabbed my hoodie, and walked out to the front porch.


    Emma and Darsh were there too.


    Suddenly, as if it were some kind of normal thing, as if it were an everyday occurrence, two figures rounded the bend in the road, and approached the property.  Two armored figures.


    I cursed.


    ¡°Katherine,¡± Emma said, ¡°get back inside.¡±


    Go back inside?  And do what?  Wait for them to kill my aunt?  Destroy my armor?  Maybe they can be convinced.


    ¡°It¡¯s my armor,¡± I said.  ¡°Whatever happens, I should be here for it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I think I¡¯ll go¡ª¡± Darsh began saying.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Auntie Em said, cutting him off and grabbing him by the shoulder, ¡°make sure we have the blueprints backed up.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Hurry.¡±


    Darsh cursed, and ran back into the barn.


    Now that the armored figures were closer, I could tell who they were.  One was taller, thinner, maybe approaching seven feet tall, with white, red and lavender accents.  She had a small red rose on her chest.


    Knight armor remained a constantly evolving technology on earth.  They always must be custom built for the fighter, so conventions in design have changed over time as combat ideology changed.  The first ones were bigger, and bulkier.  Current generation Knight armor usually stood not much taller than the person it needed to fit.  The new ones also had a more organic look, with softer curves.


    This Knight didn''t seem to be carrying any weapons, except for a single sword.  That wasn¡¯t unusual for her.


    I knew because she remained, after all, incredibly famous.


    Paula Martinez was named the Knight of Roses ¡ª one of the original twelve.  She was far and away, even in her advanced age, one of the strongest Knights still living.  Only Dara, or Commander Parker, was held in higher esteem.


    Her apprentice¡ªI assumed because anyone else had to be of secondary status¡ªthough shorter, was far larger in bulk, her armor black and red with a massive gun slung over her back.  She was newer.  From my time on the Knight forums, I think her name was Kalea.


    Even if my armor was complete, even if my aunt had her armor as well, we would have been screwed.  You didn¡¯t fight the Knight of Roses, and live.


    If they wanted to come in hot, and kill us all ¡ª they would have come in running.  It was still incredibly nerve wracking, waiting for them to get closer.  Aunt Em started walking down the drive to meet them.


    I followed.  What else was I going to do?


    ¡°Emma.  What a welcome surprise,¡± Paula said through the speakers in the neck of her suit.  Her voice echoed warm and friendly, and had a heavy Spanish accent.  ¡°I know you are a reasonable one.  I¡¯m sure we will have this sorted in no time, yes?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure!¡± Emma responded, a measure of nervousness in her voice.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Oh, come now,¡± Paula said, ¡°no need to be frightened.¡±


    Her mask slid open to reveal a beautiful face, lined with age, but looking far younger than I knew her to be.  How that worked with the Knights, is anyone¡¯s guess.  I¡¯d have to ask my aunt about it later.  She wore a hint of makeup, pink eyeshadow, and lipstick.  Her hair had been styled in an elaborate braid, pinned up in a bun to highlight her undercut.  Most knights cut all their hair off, like Aunt Em, but Paula seemed to take a lot of care in a feminine presentation.


    ¡°I¡¯m not frightened,¡± Emma said, ¡°just cautious.  The Dreadnaught doesn¡¯t send two Knights out, if they don¡¯t expect action.¡±


    ¡°If I was expecting some action, I would have brought a bottle of wine,¡± she ended that sentence with a cute little laugh that seemed to hint at some kind of shared joke.


    ¡°God, Paula, in front of my niece?¡±


    ¡°What?  She doesn¡¯t know about us?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no ¡®us¡¯ anymore, Pau.¡±


    ¡°Dios mio.  It¡¯s a joke.  Kalea, talk to the kid, yes?  Get her version of the story.  Em and I will be in the barn.¡±


    Auntie Em rolled her eyes, and led the Knight of Roses to the barn.  I hoped that Darsh had been able to download the files in time.  Else, all this could have been for nothing.


    I stood next to the six-foot-tall armored figure, and waited for her to speak next.


    ¡°Well,¡± I said to cut the tension, ¡°want a soda or something?¡±


    The armored figure laughed.  It was strange to hear a laugh come from the speakers of the suit.  It sounded slightly tinny.


    ¡°Do you not speak english?¡± I asked, and felt a little embarrassed that I could be right.


    The Knight replied in a language I couldn¡¯t understand.


    The mask of their suit peeled away to reveal their face, and for the first time, I got to see what an Alien looked like, up close and personal.


    She was surely Somnifer.  Her skin nearly glowed with the characteristic green hue.  Her floral culture traveled in a strip of moss, lichen, and flowers much like a mohawk from the top of her head to disappear down her neck, and into the suit.  She had wide human-like features, and large eyes.


    I was startled by her beauty, and strangeness.


    The flower culture and feminine features told me she was quite old.  I wondered what kind of life she must have lived before becoming a Knight.  Her dark eyes had a kind of kindness to them.  Though all Knights were women, of a sort, not all of them used the same pronouns.  Should I ask them?


    There was also the fact that she was literally an alien.  I only knew what I saw on TV, and the things whispered in forums.  The Somnifer were more likely to talk about the ¡®beautiful diversity of the intergalactic community,¡¯ than explain their culture and biology.


    The knight stepped closer to me, and exhaled spores.  I should have seen this coming.


    The spores quickly entered my nose and mouth.  I coughed, choked, stumbled back, but in seconds I began to breathe again.  I briefly saw hallucinatory, iridescent butterfly-like creatures before they disappeared.  I knew them to be species from the Somifer home planet.  They were a common hallucinatory side-effect of this kind of exchange.


    Her speech then continued with what sounded like gibberish at first, but then¡­


    ¡°But I¡¯ll stay out here if it¡¯s all the same,¡± she said with a smile.


    On the one hand I knew what this was, the fungal exchange that incoded their language patterns into your mind, but hearing it, experiencing it, it almost seemed too much to understand.


    Language should take work.  It should take effort to understand.  But here I was hearing, and understanding it all the same.


    I realized that I had been staring.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, ¡°be right back.¡±


    I scrambled up the porch in front of her.  I at first worried that she would shatter the front steps as she stepped up onto the porch behind me, but the armor must not have weighed as much as it looked.


    My parents weren¡¯t home, and so there wasn¡¯t anyone to see me as I visually freaked out.  I had a Knight, not just my aunt, but an actual Knight in armor, and an Alien, on my front porch!


    I told myself to be calm.  Center yourself.  This is serious business.  I have to convince them to let me have my own armor.  And if I say the wrong thing, they could pop me like a grape.


    I grabbed a soda from the fridge, and ran back to the porch.  The Knight had her hands behind her back, waiting patiently.


    I handed it to them.  She took it in two of her massive fingers.


    ¡°So,¡± I said, ¡°your name is Kalea?¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± she responded.  Except that¡¯s not what she said.  She said something else, and that¡¯s what I understood it to mean.  I get that this was how language always worked, but I didn¡¯t have the lexicon.  I just had the meaning.  I didn¡¯t know anything about the language, but I understood it.


    She seemed to have no trouble drinking the soda with her large, gauntleted hands.  She must have had practice.


    ¡°So, um, what are your pronouns?¡± I asked.  This was a polite thing to ask when meeting someone from a different culture.  But even to this day, some people got weird about it.


    ¡°She/her is fine.¡±


    This didn¡¯t surprise me.  Almost nobody had ever seen a male Somnifer.  They existed, I think, but they were supposedly well guarded, far away from Earth.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said.  Neat!  I can update that part of the wiki now.


    ¡°And you?¡± she asked me.


    ¡°Ah.  She/her, also.  Do I, um, not look like it?¡±


    ¡°Sure.  But I try not to make assumptions.  You let your men just walk around with you.¡±


    ¡°Right. We do, don¡¯t we.¡±


    Jesus, this was awkward.  The lack of men among them was a cultural, and biological thing I didn¡¯t understand.  I wanted to ask her about it, but held my tongue.


    ¡°So,¡± she said, ¡°you¡¯re building armor in the barn?¡±


    ¡°Right to it, huh?¡±


    She gave me a nervous smile, then took one single sip of the soda.


    ¡°Look, I ah, I usually just hit things,¡± she continued.  ¡°Or shoot them.  The fact that we¡¯re talking at all, is sorta weird.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to shoot me, right?¡±


    The gun on her back was insanely large.  I guessed it was one of the new coilguns.  Could be a railgun though.


    ¡°Not if I don¡¯t have to,¡± she said.  ¡°Certainly be easier though.¡±  Her eyes looked away, and she said something I took to be a curse word.  ¡°Ah, man.  That was a bad joke.  I¡¯m sorry.  I just.  I¡¯m trained to fight robots mostly.  We don¡¯t fight people anymore.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I said.  ¡°That¡¯s good.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she replied.  A look of mild panic crossed her face.


    The conversation stopped there.


    ¡°Oh!  Right,¡± I said, stumbling over my words.  ¡°Yeah.  So, I¡¯m building armor in the barn.¡±


    ¡°Cool.  Or I guess.  Not cool.  Depending.  What are you going to do with it?¡±


    ¡°Fight robots.  Help save the world.¡±


    ¡°The war¡¯s over.  Just stragglers out there,¡± she said.


    ¡°Emma thinks differently.  Says that there¡¯s something big on the horizon.¡±


    ¡°Does she?¡± the alien asked.  Her large black eyes studied me carefully.  ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t say.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    Kalea took a second sip of the soda, then put it on the railing.  She sighed, the suit peeled open like a blooming flower, and she stepped out in one fluid motion.  My brain had a hard time comprehending what I was seeing at first.


    She was hot.  Like, unexpectedly hot.


    But I¡¯m also not sure what I was expecting, though.  She was all of maybe five feet, but, man, was she massive ¡ª like protein-shake-chugging, barbell-curling, biceps-the-size-of-my-head massive.  She paced in front of me, agitated.  I could see the power rippling beneath her muscled shoulders.  Were they all like that, jacked?


    No.


    I¡¯d seen other Aliens on TV.  They were usually very shapely, and womanly.  Word on the Intranet was that they looked hot because the spores, and pheromones in their floral cultures caused arousal.  But if that was the case, why did they need to have tits like that?


    Lots of speculation on the Intranet about that also.  The prevailing theory was that they were ¡®seeded¡¯ by the same extraterrestrial DNA as earth, that they were guided to be mammals like we were by some ancient designers.


    That didn¡¯t make any sense to me.  But then again, how else would you explain them looking like hot green women?


    Anyway!  That¡¯s right.  I was talking to a Knight!  I mean, not just my aunt, but an actual honest-to-God hero!


    I was staring again.  That was rude.


    And I didn¡¯t want to exotify her too much.  She was a person.  A person like me.  Or well.  Not like me.  Twice my weight in muscle, and with a steely gaze that I found myself unable to break from.


    ¡°You okay?¡± she asked with a wry grin, her eyes dancing around, always searching the surroundings.


    ¡°Yeah.  Just never seen a Knight up close.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve seen Emma.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Look, I just thought we could talk better without the suit, but you¡¯re still being weird.¡±


    Her underlayer was different from the one I¡¯d seen my aunt wear.  Mostly grey and black, It pressed tight against her, giving her a boyish chest like they all did, but lacked any covering on her arms or back.  For the arms, that was an odd vanity.  For the back, I guessed it was to make sure her floral culture didn¡¯t get squished.


    I mean, maybe I¡¯d do something like that too, if I had arms like her.  And her abs!  Oh, man she had abs.  I could see her obliques through her underlayer.  She must be ripped.  Just, absolutely shredded.


    ¡°Hi,¡± I said, trying to focus, ¡°my name is Kat.¡±


    ¡°Hey, Kat.  Kalea.¡±


    I put my hand out for her to shake.  She took it firmly, but not uncomfortably, not like she had something to prove.  I could feel the strength in her hands.  They were rougher than my aunts.


    It was all so normal!  I just shook hands with an Alien!  No tentacle popped out to grab me.  No more of those spores.  Just a normal handshake.


    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± I said, taking my hand back, absentmindedly.


    ¡°Likewise,¡± she waited for me to get back to explaining myself.


    ¡°My Aunt has been training me for this, for a long time,¡± I said.  ¡°I can use the suit responsibly.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not necessarily the issue, Kat.  Why don¡¯t you start at the beginning.¡±


    I started at the beginning.  I told her how I¡¯d always wanted to fight back.  I told her about the stories I grew up with, about my aunt.  I recounted how she just showed up a week ago with the fabricator, and asked me to help her design my own Knight armor.


    She listened patiently, interrupting only intermittently to ask a question here or there.  Listening is a skill, and I felt like she knew it well.


    Then, I told her about the song, Morrigan¡¯s song.


    ¡°A song, huh?¡± she asked.  ¡°How does it go?¡±


    ¡°Well, it doesn''t really have any lyrics.  It¡¯s a piano piece.¡±


    ¡°Okay, Kat, lead the way.  Play me this song.¡±

 Ch. 4 — Prophecy Girl

    Kalea grabbed her drink, and followed me to the living room.  I could barely hear her behind me.  My eyes darted over my shoulder.


    She moved, cat-like, with a kind of aloof grace.  Or maybe not too gracefully.  Her elbow tagged a vase on her way in.  She caught it with one hand, and deposited it back on the entry table without slowing.  I felt myself smiling for some reason.


    ¡°Watch it,¡± I said, ¡°you break anything, and I¡¯ll have to write a strongly worded letter to the Dreadnaught.¡±


    She just chuckled, and continued to follow.


    Was I really that funny, or was she just humoring me?  You know what?  I just decided it didn¡¯t matter.


    I sat at the piano.  She sat on the couch.  She sipped her soda.


    ¡°Nice place,¡± she said.


    I made a show of examining my house as if I¡¯d never seen it before.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I said.


    ¡°You¡¯re being modest.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s not like the Dreadnaught.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, there.  Nothing like the Dreadnaught,¡± she spread out on the couch in a distinctly unwomanly way.  As short as she was, she certainly knew how to take up space.  ¡°They don¡¯t have rooms like this though.  Only the big shots get rooms like this.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I said.  ¡°So you¡¯re not a big shot?¡±


    ¡°I certainly carry a big gun,¡± she replied.


    There was an awkward silence that hung in the air.  As if trying to find something to say, Kalea glanced around the room looking at the walls.  With the light shining on her the way it did, it sent her green skin shimmering.  Every breath she took, put more of those spores out into the room, damn near sparkling in the beam of light she¡¯d situated herself in.


    I knew that the fungus was mostly harmless, more than that, it was considered a blessing.  The galaxy revered the Somnifer for their technology, sure, but their bodies themselves let people communicate easier.  After spending time with them, even the humans could communicate with a look.  People also reported just feeling happier, with more energy.


    It still seemed weird to me.  Fungus in the air usually just made you sneeze.  Or worse.  I also wondered how they were able to walk around on earth without a Knight suit.  Wouldn¡¯t they get sick?  Further, why didn¡¯t they make us sick?  None of this made much sense to me, but I wasn¡¯t a xenobiologist.


    ¡°What¡¯s with all the needlepoint?¡± she asked.  ¡°Your mom a big homemaker?¡±


    I tried to keep my laugh in, and ended up snorting.  Somniferian understanding of human culture could be a bit textbook at times.


    Kalea gave me a quizzical look.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, just the thought of my mom being a homemaker is funny.  Nah, they¡¯re mine.  It¡¯s, uh, I like to keep my hands busy while listening to my podcasts, and stuff.¡±


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    ¡°All of them?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, every one.¡±


    ¡°Even the one that says ¡®Jesus is my only drug?¡¯¡±


    ¡°That was a gift to my grandma.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    This conversation was starting to make me nervous.  I felt like I was making myself look like an idiot in front of the maybe hundreds of years old Alien.


    ¡°You want me to play the song?¡±


    ¡°Whenever,¡± she said with a smile.  Her smile was mostly in her large brown eyes.  They were very dark.  I was used to seeing brown eyes more like mine, with flecks of other colors in them.  Her eyes were just dark, and wide.


    ¡°So, anyway,¡± I said, ¡°this song is called ¡®Morrigan.¡¯¡±


    I began to play. ¡®Morrigan¡¯ wasn¡¯t a very complex song.  It had a simple chord progression, and a catchy leitmotif.  But the song built on itself over time, bringing in more complex chords.  I was fairly proud of it.  Now ¡ª I know that this was all supposed to be magic, but it still didn¡¯t make sense to me yet.  The music just sounded like music to me.


    Kalea sat transfixed.  I stopped playing, and she kept up the tune, humming a previous phrase.


    ¡°Now, that¡¯s something,¡± she said.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    Her eyes bored into mine.


    ¡°Do you know about the Prophecy?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Um.  I¡¯m not super big on church.¡±


    ¡°Says the girl that needlepoints for The Jesus.¡±


    ¡°It was for my nona!¡±


    ¡°Anyway, It¡¯s not a religious thing.  Or well.  At least not to me.¡±  She blinked and seemed to snap out of whatever feeling that had a hold on her.  ¡°I better go talk to Paula.¡±


    ¡°Am I in the clear?¡±


    Kalea chuckled.


    ¡°None of us are, yet.¡±


    I followed her to the porch.  Paula was already there, at the steps.  She was still in her suit, but she hadn¡¯t closed her mask yet.  A sheen of sweat covered her neck and brow.  A panel in her gorget was left open, exposing her clavicle.  Again, I wondered if it was vanity, or if she just wanted to cool off.  Maybe those suits were hotter than I imagined.


    ¡°She tell you about the song?¡± Paula asked.


    ¡°She played it for me.¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s legit.  Sargent Gallagher may have¡ª¡±


    ¡°Let me worry about Emma.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    Paula looked past Kalea, to me, then back to her apprentice.


    ¡°We should head up the road to talk.¡±


    Kalea glanced back at me briefly before turning back to Paula and saying, ¡°okay.¡±


    ¡°Besides.  If what Emma is saying is true, we should do a sweep of the area anyway.¡±


    Kalea put her back to the armor, and it slid over her body quickly, and carefully.  They both ran off down the road, large steps bounding.


    I watched them leave.


    When they wanted to run, they could sure run.  Their gait was long and loping, but it took them quickly down the road, and before I knew it, they were gone.


    I waited for a second, trying to parse what all this meant.  The wind swept in from the west, and sent my hair dancing.  I tried to ignore it and enjoy the wind.


    Prophecy?  And who could be waiting in the woods for us?  What had Kalea heard in the song?  It couldn¡¯t have been important.  Maybe it was Morrigan?  Maybe Morrigan was more advanced than we thought?


    I walked towards the barn.  Auntie Em slid the door open before I could put my hand on it.  I started.


    How did she do that?


    ¡°Get in,¡± she said.  ¡°We need to finalize the design.¡±


    ¡°What happened with Paula?¡±


    ¡°I told her what she wanted to hear.¡±


    ¡°The truth?¡±


    ¡°A version of it.¡±


    ¡°What did you say?¡±


    ¡°She believes in some kind of prophetic ¡®Savior of the Beacon¡¯ that is destined to destroy the robots for good.¡±


    ¡°Okay, Kalea said something similar.  How does that help us?¡±


    ¡°I let her believe it''s you.¡±

 Ch. 5 — A Surprise Attack

    It was finished.  A fully operational suit of Knight armor hung in the barn, just waiting for me to try it out.  What would it mean for me to put it on?


    I leapt out of bed that morning, and threw on what my aunt called ¡®workout clothes¡¯ but I just called ¡®clothes.¡¯  Because my social life outside of school didn¡¯t exist, it was pretty much my uniform on most days.  Always leggings and t-shirt when at home.  My sense of personal style had been annihilated by my studies.


    Next, I dragged myself down the stairs.


    Kalea and Paula gave some input on the armor over the last day or so, helping Emma understand where the cutting edge of armor design was.  Kalea insisted I make a shield, but I didn¡¯t have the time to fabricate it.  It was light on weapons and protection for sure, but sophisticated.


    Paula was nice, dazzling honestly.  I tried not to crowd her, but being around her was exhilarating.  If my aunt was a legend, Paula was some kind of hero from antiquity made flesh.


    She was also a huge dork.  She kept this tiny sketchbook where she would doodle and scribble song lyrics, and notes, and constantly sang old Spanish pop songs from before the war.  I later learned that many of them had been ones she¡¯d written herself.


    Kalea was something else, too.  She was boisterous, loud, but down to earth.  She felt easy to be around in a way that Paula did not.  She wasn¡¯t a hero yet.  But man was she cool.  She also was mad for calisthenics, like super into it.  You¡¯d think that Aliens were just naturally buff or not because of their alien physiology, but I guess even Aliens grew muscle like everyone else ¡ª just food and effort.


    I once counted her pull-ups until I got bored.  She did like a hundred or something.


    These knights were at once larger than life, but also just people.


    Even Aliens could be boring.


    Now that my armor was done, I could be one of them.  What did that even mean?


    I got the coffee ready for my parents, and put toast in for Matt.  My sister greeted me first.


    ¡°Does mom and dad know what you¡¯re building in the barn?¡± she asked without preamble.


    She must not know I had finished it.  I decided not to do anything to shatter that illusion.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.  Do you?¡±


    Ruth rolled her eyes.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s armor for Emma.  You¡¯re going to get her in trouble again, you know.  I just hope it doesn¡¯t affect your shot at Julliard.¡±


    ¡°What do they care what my aunt does?¡±


    ¡°You just don¡¯t want to give them a reason.¡±


    Ruth pulled the toast out of the toaster, seething in pain as she burned a finger on the hot rack.


    ¡°Serves you right,¡± I said.


    Ruthie shot me a dirty look, and headed for the door.  She probably had a shift at the convenience store down the road.


    I snapped a picture for the New England Intranet, light coming in from the window well before golden hour but good enough.  This made the edge lighting a little dim, but it lit me up enough that it highlighted what cheekbones I did have.  Had I known it would be the last social media post I¡¯d make in a long time, I would have spent more time on my ¡®just out of bed¡¯ look.  But I had actually just gotten out of bed.


    Oh, well.  I should get a run in.  Maybe I¡¯ll grab granola or something on my way out.  I zipped my hoodie on, tied my shoes, and headed for the door.


    After my quick run, Matt stopped me before I could head back to the living room to practice.  He grabbed my hand then stepped in front of me.  After a little twirl, he asked me a question:


    ¡°So, how do I look?  I want to look professional for MIT!¡±


    He had on a little purple polo shirt, and black slacks.  He¡¯d popped the collar on the polo, and meticulously styled his hair.  I reached out, and folded down his collar.


    ¡°Perfect!¡± I said.


    ¡°Hey!  Popped collars are back in!¡±


    ¡°Sure, for jerks.  Professionals keep it classy,¡± I gave him a finger-guns to drive the point home.


    He was on his way to Boston, and then on a school trip to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.  Still a prestigious school, but no longer the cutting edge of robotics, and engineering.  For one, robotics research was heavily regulated now.  For two, well, anywhere outside the Dreadnought had to be second best.


    ¡°James Dean wasn¡¯t a jerk!¡± Matt said.


    ¡°James Dean died over a hundred years ago.¡±


    Matt stroked his chin dramatically as he thought it over.


    ¡°Well, I reserve the right to put it back up later!¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said with a smile.


    It was a ridiculous conversation.  I wish we had talked about something different, that we¡¯d said we loved each other or something.  But I guess a conversation about the personal fashion choices of a pre-teen was close enough.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    He ran off to give his hair another once over before he left. I poured myself a glass of orange juice.


    Kalea walked in.  We weren¡¯t quite sure how to treat each other.  She seemed keen on being friendly, but we didn¡¯t have a whole lot in common.  Even setting aside the whole, you know, alien thing.


    ¡°Your brother left with who I assume is your mom.  He had, just, so much goop in his hair.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not sure it can be helped.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed like she was trying to figure out some kind of puzzle.


    ¡°You still haven¡¯t told me what you plan on doing with the armor.¡±


    ¡°I know I want to use it for good.  Maybe I¡¯m just waiting for something to happen?¡±


    I regretted saying that as soon as I said it.  ¡®If something happened¡¯ that necessitated me getting in Morrigan, a lot of people would already be dead.  Kalea frowned.


    I went to go practice my audition piece, and Kalea back to her calisthenics.  Paula and Emma didn¡¯t seem to be around.


    Some hours later, after practice and catching up on podcasts, I got a second glass of orange juice, and checked my notifications.  I had quite a few.  Maybe I didn¡¯t look as bad as I thought?  Your girl finally getting some recognition?


    The first one was from Reiley George.  Reiley hadn¡¯t talked to me in person since middle school, when she threw milk at me, and called me gay.  I wasn¡¯t gay.  Probably.  I didn¡¯t even know what that was at the time.  Even if I was¡ª I didn¡¯t deserve milk thrown at me.


    So why was she commenting on my post?


    The notification said ¡ª


    ¡®I¡¯m so sorry.  You must be out of your mind right now.¡¯


    That was weird.


    I could hear my aunt arguing with Paula now.  That wasn¡¯t too strange.  They were always arguing.  Or about to argue.  Or mad at each other because they had argued.  This sounded different.  A sense of urgency threaded through voices that sounded husky with concern.  Anything that could concern a Knight, one of the Twelve even, was something I didn¡¯t want to hear.


    But I had to.  I set my orange juice down, and walked out of the kitchen, stopping at the landing to listen.


    She¡¯s telling her that her injuries would kill her.  Emma said she had to go.  Go where?  I felt a rope of fear twist in my gut.  Something was wrong, something beyond the normal ¡®wrong.¡¯


    I rounded the corner, and they stopped talking.  Kalea was there too.  She stared at me for a moment, a mask of concern on her face, before walking to me, and placing a warm hand on my shoulder.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I asked with a nervous laugh.  I didn¡¯t like that they knew something I didn¡¯t.  That rope around my gut wrapped tighter.


    ¡°There¡¯s been an attack in Boston,¡± Kalea said.  ¡°We don¡¯t know a lot yet, but it could be a full scale invasion.¡±


    For the first time in my life, my greatest fear, the worst thing that could ever happen to me, had just happened.  MIT was just north of Boston.  Not only were the robots back, but they were close, close to someone I loved.


    They were close to me.  I felt afraid.


    I¡¯d seen them on TV¡ªmetal and superplastic exoskeletons with cobbled together weapons, dead shining eyes like a shark¡ªbut we had always lived so far from the rifts.  I¡¯d never seen one in person.  The thought that they could be here, so close, chilled me.


    I felt sweat wet my brow, and my head went all light and dizzy.  I fell back against the wall.


    My mother was with the Rhode Island governor.  My father was likely at the office at the University, well away from all this too.  But Matt.  Matt was right where all this was going down.


    Pulled my phone out to call him.  It went straight to voicemail.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Kalea said, ¡°they aren''t anywhere near here.¡±


    ¡°They could be,¡± Auntie Em said.


    ¡°Right,¡± Paula said, as if just considering that, ¡°Kalea, do a sweep.  Keep on comms.¡±


    Paula put an earpiece in, and Kalea ran to the barn.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way they could make it here, right?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s not even fifty miles away, Kat,¡± Emma replied.  ¡°Anything¡¯s possible.¡±


    ¡°But not likely,¡± Paula said with kind eyes.


    I suddenly needed more orange juice.  I leaned against the kitchen island, and stared at the granite ¡ª my juice so close to my hand ¡ª but finding myself unable to reach it.


    I just tried to hold myself together.


    Auntie Em and Paula continued talking in the hall, but I could barely hear them.  Then I heard the door slam.  My breathing sounded loud in my ears.


    Suddenly, I could feel Auntie Em next to me.  I startled, and looked at her.


    ¡°You okay, kid?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I replied, barely above a whisper.


    She wrapped me in a hug.  I fought back tears.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she said softly, ¡°we¡¯re going to be fine.  Paula and Kalea have already left.  Kalea is a tough bitch, and Paula is the best we have.  They¡¯ll get this incursion quashed in no time.¡±


    They¡¯d left already?  How much time had passed?


    I pulled back.  She kept her hands on my shoulders.  I looked into her blue eyes, as if looking at them could keep me from bursting into tears.  If she wasn¡¯t crying, I could keep it together, right?


    ¡°But I¡¯m supposed to be the hero.¡±


    ¡°Right now,¡± she said, ¡°you don¡¯t have to be.¡±


    And then several things happened in rapid succession.


    My glass of orange juice exploded, sending a sticky wave of liquid across the counter.  I felt a sting on my arm.  Then I heard the gunshot.  Then I heard the rest of them.


    A cacophony of gunfire roiled from the woods to the west of us, and chewed up the walls of our house.  A frame of cross stitch leapt off the wall in two pieces.


    Emma grabbed my hand, and led me around to the back of the island as debris leapt at us from all around.  I didn¡¯t have time to glance out the window, and see who was shooting at us.  They were using old gunpowder weapons.  That could mean only one thing.  The robots were here.


    I kept my head down, as pieces of granite rained down upon us.


    My hand went to the wound on my arm.  I was cut, deep.


    The ringing in my ears wouldn¡¯t stop.


    It was chaos.


    What do I do?


    What could I do?


    I couldn¡¯t do anything.


    I was going to die.


    I was going to die!


    Auntie Em¡¯s thumb dug into the nerve in my shoulder.  A jolt of pain shot through my arm.


    ¡°Ah, shit, Aunt¡ª¡±


    ¡°Listen to me!¡±


    She had been trying to say something over the gunfire.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to the barn!¡±


    ¡°What?  Why?¡±


    I knew why, but it didn¡¯t make sense.  I had never used the armor before.  She couldn¡¯t possibly expect me to, expect me to what?  Fight?  In this?  This madness?


    The cabinet door next to me flew off its hinges, and slid across the floor.


    We were going to die.


    ¡°We aren¡¯t dying today!¡± Auntie Em yelled through the din.


    ¡°Okay!¡±


    ¡°Stay low!¡±


    She grabbed my hand.  She squeezed hard, keeping hold even against the blood that made my hand slick.  We stayed crouched, and crawled from the island to the hall.

 Ch. 6 — The Sweet Song of Battle

    Sunlight streamed in from the holes the bullets left.  We scrambled down the hall on all fours, desperately trying to get to the back door.  Were it not for Auntie Em, I would have stayed at the kitchen island, and been torn to shreds by bullets and shrapnel.


    As it was, the wound in my forearm bled a lot but didn¡¯t seem to be too bad.  It made the floor slick as I crawled, but I only slipped once.


    The gunshots rolled in intermittently.  They came in waves, almost with a musicality to it.  If I wasn¡¯t scared out of my mind, maybe I could have found some kind of pattern.


    My breath came in ragged, staccato bursts.  I was a distance runner.  I should be good at this.  But I¡¯d never crawled across the floor while being shot at.  It was way different.


    Auntie Em threw the backdoor open without waiting, or stopping to look through the shattered window.  She stood up, keeping my hand the entire time.  We ran together.


    I could see the bullets hitting the ground next to us as we ran to the front of her truck.


    We ducked near the engine.


    Auntie Em let go of my hand.


    The gunfire stopped.  For a burst of seconds, maybe half a dozen, it was just the ringing in my ears.  Maybe they ran out of ammo?


    Or maybe they were just waiting for a clear shot.


    ¡°Stay here,¡± Auntie Em said.


    As if I was going anywhere.


    She ducked around the front of the truck.  I kept my head down.  It was everything I had to keep standing.  I pressed my head up against the hood of the truck, and stared at my feet.  I focused on my breathing.


    Auntie Em would come back for me.


    The gunfire started again.  I could feel myself scream, but couldn¡¯t hear it against the sound of the machine guns rattling from somewhere in the woods.


    I didn¡¯t know what to do.  I was so exposed out here.  If I ran to the barn they would get me for sure.


    I didn¡¯t want to die.


    Then came the distinctive roar of a coilgun.  A wave of sound rocked me to my core.  It came from my left.  Had they circled us?!


    That wouldn¡¯t make any sense.  They were firing on us from the west.  It came from the east.  They¡¯d be shooting at each other.


    If it wasn¡¯t the robots¡­


    Emma slid around the front of the truck, and fell at my feet.  I helped her up, instinctively.


    She had a large pistol in her armored fist.  The armor stopped at her elbow and connected to a basic exoskeletal brace that went from her elbow to her shoulder.  It looked like her old Knight armor.  But it couldn¡¯t be.  If it was, it was just a part of it.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I asked.


    She laughed, wildly.  Her eyes were filled with some kind of crazy emotion I¡¯d never seen before.


    ¡°Probably dislocated my shoulder with this junk!  But that shut them up for a bit, yeah?¡±


    I just stared at her.


    ¡°Well,¡± she said, ¡°run for the fucking barn!¡±


    She pulled me to my feet and flung me towards the barn.


    I ran.


    The space between her truck and the barn must have been no more than twenty feet, but it felt like an insurmountable distance when I expected hot lead in my back.  My skin itched where I expected the bullet to go.  My bare feet pounded into the grass.  Wisps of my hair streamed behind me.


    I don¡¯t think I¡¯d ever run so fast.  I crashed into the barn door, flinging it open.


    Sunlight painted the floor in alternating stripes of color.  Dustmotes hung in the air.  It was peaceful here.


    Saanvi was at her laptop.  I didn¡¯t have time to be embarrassed that I had forgotten she was here.  She had one hand on the keyboard, typing, while the other hung at her side, limp.  Blood poured from her shoulder to a pool on the floor.


    ¡°Come on, you little chutiya!¡± she said, then looking at me said, ¡°it¡¯s almost ready!  Go!¡±


    A bundle of cords ran from the laptop to Morrigan.


    Morrigan.


    There she was.  I could hear a hum emanate from it as the machinery warmed up.  I looked to Saanvi.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Just get in!  You¡¯re the only way we make it out of this!¡±


    She was right.


    Morrigan stood there for me, waiting.


    She was beautiful, and strange.  Mostly midnight blue with black and violet highlights, she reminded me of the sky at night.  Intricate copper designs scrolled across her plates.  Here and there, I could make out raven feathers, or gaelic script.  Her hips were a little wide from where the nanite fabricators were, and she had a very pleasing organic shape to her.  Auntie Em¡¯s sword hung from her waist.


    Everything else in the barn seemed to fade away.


    How did I open it?  How did I get in?


    I felt my feet carrying me to it.  A song sprang to my mind.  Not Morrigan¡¯s song, but something else.


    I peeled out of my sweater, just in my leggings and sports bra.  I didn¡¯t feel exposed at all though.  It wasn¡¯t the sophisticated underlayer, but I hoped it would work just fine.


    She opened up for me, plates sliding, and blooming open of its own accord.  As I approached her, I could see that it would fit me snuggly.  I put my back to it, and I could feel it shift over me gently, as if enveloping me in a gentle hug.  The armor¡¯s helm beamed a Visual Projection directly into my visual cortex via the neural assessors that gently cupped my face, and touched my body at very specific intervals.  A Heads Up Display gave me the time, and outlined potential threats as they popped up.  Decades ago, something like this had to be attached directly to the nerves at the base of your spine, but now it was extradermal.


    The song was in my head now.  The incessant ringing from earlier was washed away by Morrigan¡¯s aural interface.  Now, I could just hear her music, her song.


    I took my first step.


    It was like walking on land for the first time after spending a lot of time in the ocean, or in a river.  I could feel the armor move around me at first.  Then I took another step.  Then another.  And suddenly it was like Morrigan wasn¡¯t even there at all anymore.


    I was in my own little world, but at the same time, keenly aware of all kinds of things I shouldn''t have.  I could see in front of me, and behind at the same time.  When I walked, in some ways it felt like the world moved, not me.  And then, all at once, I was used to it.


    Bullets shredded the barn door.  Saanvi ducked under her folding table, cursing to herself in an incessant stream.


    I ran to the door, and did the first thing I could think of.


    Morrigan, and I ran right through it.


    The heavy wooden door felt like barely anything, it was almost comical.  I almost laughed.  But there was the robot.  He had his combustion rifle pointed right at me.  The rifle cracked as it fired.


    The bullets slid right off of Morrigin¡¯s plating.  Her aural dampeners told me that he was firing his gun, but it didn¡¯t hurt my hearing.  His black metal eyes narrowed.


    I drew my sword, and brought it down in a single overhead chop.  He frantically put his gun over his head to block it.


    Crap.  I¡¯d heard edge alignment was important.


    The edge of the sword skipped off the gun, but I¡¯d hit it with enough force that it tumbled out of his hands.  My sword blade was already pointed at his chest, so I lunged forward, and buried the point of it right through where I guessed his heart would have been.  Had he been human.  The tip of my sword kept going, and I felt it enter the side of Emma¡¯s truck.


    I blinked once.  He scrambled against my sword but I had him well and truly pinned.  My HUD lit up as gunfire came in from the treeline.


    It took some effort, but I yanked my sword free, and swung for his head, separating it from his shoulders in one efficient movement.


    ¡°Get down you idiot!¡± Emma screamed.


    I could feel the bullets ping against me, rattling the suit no harder than heavy drops of rain against a plastic sheet.  Until one found its way past a plate, and punched into Morrigan¡¯s liquid-crystal polymer skin.  It felt like being punched in the chest.  I tumbled over, and scrambled behind the engine black next to Emma.


    Morrigan threw up a reading in my hud that said:


    LCP dermal integrity 98%.


    ¡°Yeah thanks,¡± I muttered to myself.


    I had only been with Morrigan less than a minute, and already she¡¯d started to develop a sense of humor.


    ¡°You¡¯re not invincible out there!¡± Emma yelled.  ¡°Pay attention!¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± I said, the sound of my voice distorted by the speaker.


    All the technology in the world, and the speaker distorted my voice?  Maybe it was a deliberate choice.  Not every Knight died on the battlefield.


    Being in the suit was disorienting.  I had so much information coming in.  From my HUD, to the music, to the sound of Emma¡¯s voice.  It was all so much.  I focused my vision on Emma.  The music changed.


    What song was that?  Was it Emma¡¯s?


    ¡°Here,¡± she said, pressing her oversized pistol to my hand, ¡°take this.¡±


    I didn¡¯t want it.  I¡¯d always been a little scared of pistols.


    ¡°Just point, and shoot!¡±


    I waited for the break in gunfire, stood, and leveled the weapon at the treeline.  The roar of the handcannon was immense, overloading my aural dampeners and sending my ears ringing again.  I dropped my sword, and it skidded away somewhere behind me.


    The treeline exploded.  I could hear Emma trying to say something.  More gunfire from over the ridge.  I moved the barrel over to the hill, and closed my eyes.


    The gun fired, recoil pushing me back on my heels.  I opened my eyes.  The top of the hill was gone.


    More gunfire from the house. I turned towards it.  Emma said something again that I couldn¡¯t hear.  I pulled the trigger.  Nothing happened.


    ¡°You overheated it, you idiot!¡± she said.


    A reading in my HUD read:


    Weapon thermal capacity at 120%.


    Crap.


    Two robots spilled from the backdoor.  I dropped the gun, and ran forward.  If I spent even a moment thinking, it wouldn¡¯t happen.  The only thing that kept me on my feet was motion.


    I scooped my sword from the ground, and slid across the gravel toward the two robots.  They cast aside their guns, and drew some kind of makeshift weapons, steel shafts sharpened to a point.  I batted aside the first thrust, and stepped inside the reach of the other.


    My sword blade jerked in my hands as it met the resistance of the metal exoskeleton.  I kept hold as I followed through with the swing, and cut him in half.  Black oil spurt into the air.  Shoulder checking the one to my left to make a little space, I stepped in with an overhead swing that cut him from shoulder to hip.


    Then, just like that, it was over.


    Sword red hot from the friction, I stood there for a moment, listening to the victory fanfare.  It was nice.  I¡¯d earned that.

 Ch. 7 — I Just Decided To

    The technical term to describe what was going on with me was ¡®anxiety nausea.¡¯  Probably a more accurate description was that I ¡®freaked out, and threw up.¡¯


    As sophisticated as Morrigan was, she didn¡¯t really have a great solution to what to do if I yakked in my own helmet, so I popped out of the armor, and made it all the way to the couch before losing my lunch.  The couch was already completely covered in debris from the shattered windows, and the Swiss cheese drywall, so It probably wasn¡¯t that bad that I got it a little messy.


    I felt hot and sweaty, and the nausea hit me in waves as I lay on the couch staring at the ceiling.  Once my eyes started to focus and the world stopped spinning, I gazed at the coffee table for some, I don¡¯t know, maybe a little variety or something.  Something caught my eye.  Kalea had left a soda can on it, and hadn¡¯t bothered to put it on a coaster.  It had probably made a ring at this point.  What a jerk!


    The light from the windows caught the small bit of dark colored liquid that remained caught on the lip of the can from where she had drunk from it.  Weird.  I couldn¡¯t stop looking at it.  The way it caught the light was¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure.  It looked golden in the light.


    Another wave of nausea hit me.


    What had I done?  I knew that I was supposed to be some big damn hero, but I didn¡¯t feel like it.  I felt like an idiot.  I felt like I had gotten so very lucky.  Had I been just a little bit slower, had I not followed Emma exactly the way I should have, I would¡¯ve been Swiss cheese too, just like the drapes, just like the couch.


    Morrigan couldn¡¯t look at me disapprovingly, because she didn¡¯t technically have eyes, but I felt it.


    ¡°Ugh, what do you know?¡± I said, weakly.


    Emma walked in just then.  She didn¡¯t say anything at first, just sat at the ruined piano.  I could feel her gaze but didn¡¯t turn to look at her.


    Some time passed before I heard her plink at the piano, trying each key one after the other until she hit one with a broken string.


    ¡°Arrggh, what do you want Auntie Em?¡±


    ¡°To congratulate you on winning your first firefight.¡±


    ¡°They shot up our house,¡± I said.


    ¡°Eh, it was starting to look a little dated anyway.¡±


    I looked around at the decor and mourned for all of the cross stitch and embroidery that had been ruined by the assault.  It represented hundreds of hours, wasted.


    ¡°How are Paula and Kalea doing?¡± I asked.  ¡°Did they save Boston?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.  My phone doesn¡¯t have service here.¡±


    ¡°Just use the wifi.¡±


    ¡°You never told me the password.¡±


    ¡°Have you just been using a hotspot this whole time?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Jesus.  Hand me your phone.¡±


    I held my hand out for her without taking my focus away from the ceiling.  She gave me her phone, and I typed the passcode in.


    ¡°Is it alright if I?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    I opened the RII portal and checked my socials.  More flooding of support from people I barely knew.  Several of my mutuals had shared the same story.  There were messages of ¡®Rest in Peace Paula.¡¯


    Damn.


    That was the news of the day, everywhere.  Paula, one of the last of the remaining twelve, had been killed in action protecting Boston.


    I just kept scrolling.  It didn¡¯t get better.


    Six silver elite units, or Silv-ite, robots had ambushed her.  Despite an amazing display of field application where she called down a flurry of thunder and lightning, she¡¯d been overwhelmed.  Kalea escaped, but the city had fallen.


    The army had moved in to set a perimeter, but nobody had faith that they could contain the problem, much less kick defeat the robots.


    I cursed.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Emma asked.


    I handed the phone to her wordlessly.


    Aunt Emma cursed too, and slammed her hand on the keys.  She left my phone on the couch at my feet, and walked away.  I reached down to get it, only then noticing the patch on my arm that was covered by some kind of medical gel.  The cut I received was fairly shallow, caused by flying debris, but Morrigan must have seen to it anyway.  That was nice.


    It was strange to have this thing do stuff without my directing it to.  It needed to be flexible.  But how much could Morrigan think for herself?  What was really up with her?


    I should have talked to Saanvi more.


    The sound of breaking glass in the other room brought me back to my current moment.  I knew Emma had to be having a hard time.


    Also, Kalea needed me.  I was the closest Knight.  Or I wasn¡¯t a Knight yet, but I had a suit.


    I wasn¡¯t ready for combat, real combat, yet was I?


    Putting my phone down, I stood.  I felt woozy on my feet, but I could stand.  I needed to comfort Emma, at least.


    I looked at Morrigan, briefly considered getting in her, I would feel stronger like that, but my Aunt probably needed a human presence.  Or at least I hoped I could help.


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    I made sure to step around the sharp debris as I made my way to the kitchen.


    ¡°Oh, hey,¡± Aunt Em said, ¡°you shouldn¡¯t be in here barefoot.¡±


    I winced as I stepped on something but brushed the debris off my foot easy enough.  A stricken look passed her face.


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± I said, ¡°most of the glass isn¡¯t sharp anyway.¡±


    Aunt Em was suddenly very close, and she pulled me into a hug.  She cried into my shoulder.


    ¡°God, you shouldn¡¯t have to deal with this, you shouldn¡¯t have to deal with me,¡± she said through the tears. ¡°What have I done?  You¡¯re just a kid.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Aunt Em!  I¡¯m 18!¡±


    I mean.  I thought it was fine at the time.  If I didn¡¯t do something, who would?  If I hadn¡¯t jumped in Morrigan, we would have been very dead.


    ¡°No it¡¯s not!¡± She said, keeping her hand on my shoulder but pulling back to look into my eyes.  ¡°You don¡¯t even know how to fight.  I should have prepared you better.  I should have listened to the prophecy from the start.  I just didn¡¯t want it to be you.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know about all this prophesy stuff, but having some more combat training before all this would have been nice.  But I did okay in that last fight, right?


    ¡°Hey, I did okay!¡± I said.


    ¡°God, you were a mess.¡±


    ¡°Morrigan did most of the work.  I did fine, okay.¡±


    ¡°Yeah we did okay on Morrigan.  She seems like a great suit.¡±


    ¡°Look,¡± I said, ¡°I¡¯m gonna go out there and give Kalea some backup.  Then we¡¯ll rescue Matt.  Then we¡¯ll come right back home.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s such a bad idea.¡±


    ¡°Well it¡¯s the only one we have, Aunt Em.  If you have a better one I¡¯m all ears.¡±


    ¡°We stay here and protect the house.  Once Boston is cleared, we take you to the dreadnought like we should have all along.¡±


    ¡°But you said¡ª¡±


    ¡°Fuck what I said, Kat!  I¡¯m an idiot!¡± Her eyes were shut tight and she¡¯d slammed her fist into the counter.  ¡°I believed too much in the stories.  You aren¡¯t ready,¡± then, speaking softer, looking out the shattered window.  ¡°I just lost Pau.  I can¡¯t lose you too.¡±


    I stepped back from Aunt Em.  I knew that she was right.  I was in way over my head.


    But I had to.  I had to.


    Matt needed me.  Kalea needed me.


    Could I really do this on my own?


    Saanvi entered the kitchen.  Outside, it was starting to rain.


    ¡°I brought you flip flops,¡± she said, placing the cheap plastic thongs on the floor next to me.  Then, bringing her attention to Aunt Em, said,  ¡°I¡¯m sorry about Pau.¡±


    Aunt Em¡¯s hand went to her mouth as she choked back a sob.


    ¡°How is it out in Boston?¡± I asked her


    ¡°It¡¯s bad,¡± she replied.


    I turned my head to focus on Aunt Em one last time.  The pain on her face was almost enough to make me stay.  Almost.


    I decided just then that from now on I would be brave.  No matter what happened.  No matter how awful and scared I felt, I had to go out there and save Kalea, save Matt.


    I just wished that the last time I saw my Aunt that it had been the face of someone who believed in me.  The face of pride.  Instead, it was a woman in pain, a woman scared in a way I had never seen before.


    No matter.  I was going to be a hero.


    My feet carried me into the other room and I kicked off my flip flops before putting my back to Morrigan.  Her plates slid over me like a warm hug.


    I was fast, real fast.  Before I knew it, I was out the door and down the road in seconds.  Every step whisked me down the road much quicker than I was used to.


    Hope you know where we¡¯re going, I thought to myself.  Or maybe to Morrigan.


    And just like that the HUD had a small map of the area surrounding Boston, then the image scrolled across the country to my family farm, to me.  I was a small arrow.


    How helpful.  Boston, here I come.  Another pop up in my HUD:


    Weapon load out ¡ª Side arm: not selected. Main weapon: not selected. Melee weapon: shortsword, elite-grade.


    I stopped, turned around, and sprinted back to Auntie Em¡¯s pickup truck.  The coilgun pistol, it¡¯s huge clunky design with exposed sections showing the red hot barrel steaming in the rain, lay there for me.  I picked it up, and found a compartment for it next to the nanite storage tanks at my hips.  Morrigan pinged my HUD again.


    Side-arm: Chester-class coilgun pistol [TC 110%]


    So this thing would be useless until it cooled.  Or until its Thermal Capacity dropped.  Maybe there was a Field Application, or Knight magic as the normies called it, I could do to cool it down, but I didn¡¯t know any of those.


    Saanvi headed to the barn.  She gave me a double thumbs up.  I waved back.


    I ran.


    The rain came at me sideways as I started off at a sprint.  It was easy, exhilarating.  My legs carried me and I hardly felt the ground.  The trees whipped past me as my feet tamped down the gravel.  Headlights came toward me, but I sidestepped the cars easily.


    I was fast.  I was cooking.


    Morrigan gave me an ETA, a small number next to the map, of an hour from now.  I must be pushing seventy miles per hour.


    It wasn¡¯t long til I was at I-95.  Brakelights stretched as far as the eye could see, traffic backed up in both directions.  Clumps of people walked down the road, huddled together against the rain, splashing in the painted ribbons of red from the brake lights of cars trying to escape the city.


    They¡¯d draped coats over rolling bags, covered their backpacks with their waterproof parkas, anything to protect their possessions against the rain.  Some didn¡¯t have anything more than the clothes on their backs.


    The cars whipped past, and I ate up pavement as I ran.  I had to get there faster.  I had to run faster.  Before I changed my mind.


    I couldn¡¯t go back.


    I had to do this.  Because I decided to.


    It wasn¡¯t long until the city was on the horizon, the sun a grey presence somewhere behind the clouds.  Man, how fast was I running?


    I wasn¡¯t even tired.  It had been only a little over half an hour of running, full tilt.


    Something was wrong.  I could hear screaming.  But how?


    Something flashed in my vision.  It was my Visual Projection.  I could see shapes, man-like shapes highlighted in the distance.  But it wasn¡¯t men.  They were the robots.  Three of them.


    My heart leapt.  This was it.  If I was going to prove to myself I could do this, it was out here on my own.  A pack of them had split off from the main fighting.  What were they doing?


    One of them pulled a woman from her car.  I ran faster.


    Another grabbed her arm.  They were going to pull her apart.  I couldn¡¯t let that happen.


    Naked metal, and dead eyes.  Like last time, but now they wore clothes.  The metal bones, and jagged plate armor jut unnaturally against thin T-shirts and tattered scarves.  The common ones had never looked made for war.  And maybe they hadn¡¯t been.  But now they looked even less threatening.  One, bizarrely, had plastic sports pads strapped to his joints.  How could I take anyone in knee pads seriously?


    But they were monsters.  They didn¡¯t even wipe the blood from their face plates.  How many people had died before they made it here, to this woman.  And now they were outfitted with the things they took from us.


    I pulled my sword from my waist as I ran.  It¡¯s do or die now.  I¡¯m not going to let them hurt her.  Her eyes looked at me.  If I let her die¡­


    That wouldn¡¯t happen.  Not today.


    And now I was on them.


    I fell to my knees and slid on the armored plates protecting them.  The robots let her go and grabbed for me.  Their metal fingers stretching for me, just out of reach.  I arched my back down low, and brought my sword into the legs of the first one, making sure to follow through with my swing when I felt it connect.  I cut right through it, and leapt to my feet, bringing a slash down on the second one.  He fell in half, and I kicked the first¡¯s head clean off.


    Water sloshed off my armor and pooled at our feet.  Not great footing at best of times.  Two down.  The third leapt on me.


    I wasn¡¯t fast enough.

 Ch. 8 — Knights Say Yes Sir

    The rain ran in sheets. Thunder crashed. My left foot slid in the water.


    I fell on my ass. He pounced.


    I could see his dead metalic eyes set in the metal plate of his face. His hands closed around my neck, and he began to squeeze. My gorget, the armor at my neck, could turn aside a bullet, but he didn¡¯t need to pierce my armor. He was going to crush my throat behind it.


    It would all be over in moments. Either I died here, just outside Boston, failing my brother, and disgracing the Knights, or maybe ¡ª just maybe ¡ª I proved to myself this war thing wasn¡¯t all that hard.


    God, he was stronger than anything I¡¯d faced in my life. And this was a little one! This was the weakest of them. A strange sound that sounded like a mechanical hiss of static and garbled oscillating tones came from him. They weren¡¯t words really, but I could gauge the maliciousness from his tone. Also from the fact that he was trying to kill me.


    This wasn¡¯t how I died. I hadn¡¯t even started.


    I grabbed him by his scrawny metal throat, and pulled him close. He made a surprised sound. The pressure on my neck lessened. I¡¯d rolled with stronger people before. Now I was the stronger person. I could do this.


    I hooked my feet behind his body, closed my guard, and scrambled to reposition from beneath him. I got it! Hooking my arm around the back of his head, I was able to get his face in my armpit. I shifted my hips forward, pulled back on the guillotine, and popped his head right off.


    His body went limp in my lap and some kind of oil splattered over my helm.


    ¡°Auagh,¡± I screamed, ¡°gross!¡±


    I crushed his chest for good measure. Then, I had his head in my arms, his dead eyes staring up at me. I shoved his body off me with my feet, and threw his head into the woods at the side of the road.


    That was awful.


    The clapping cut through the music in my helm. The woman lay in a pool of water next to her car. A cheer broke out, as people left their cars, and huddled all around us.


    Ah, crap! They saw that?!


    They clapped, cheered some more. Did they see that fight? I could have died. You people shouldn¡¯t be clapping!


    I shook my head.


    If I was going to wear the suit, though, I had to say something to her. I willed the ballistic bubble that enclosed my helm to open, and it did. I knelt next to her.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I asked gently.


    ¡°My arm hurts,¡± she said, cradling one of her arms.


    ¡°Let me see,¡± I said. I touched her other arm to let her know that everything was okay and made a show of looking at the hurt arm. I had exactly zero medical training. But it looked like it hurt.


    ¡°I think you¡¯ll be okay,¡± I said, lowering the pitch of my voice a bit to sound more confident, but not cartoonishly so. She gave me a smile, and tried to stand. I helped her up. ¡°I need to head into the city,¡± I continued. ¡°Are you going to be okay?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± she said softly. Her eyes were very blue, and she looked at me like, well, like I was somebody far more special than I was. Like I was a hero. I wasn¡¯t a hero.


    ¡°I need to go,¡± I said. I cringed a little at that last part. That did sound cartoonish.


    I picked up my sword, steaming hot, and burning red from the frictional heat it gained when cutting through the metal. I ran.


    Now what? Did we have any info on Kalea, where she was? The song in my helm shifted into something more percussive. The driving rhythm pushed me forward towards the center of the city. That made sense. If I couldn¡¯t find her right away I could at least maybe get to the top of one of the office buildings, and get a better view of the situation.


    I shook my head, and ran faster, making it into the city in no time at all.


    I stopped at the edge of an overpass. I could feel Morrigan, the song, leading me directly away. The street lay at least thirty feet below me.


    An explosion sent smoke, and debris into the air. Sounded further into the city, many blocks away. Morrigan opened a map of the city in my HUD, and pointed out where it was exactly.


    Well. That had to be her.


    Here goes nothing.


    I sheathed my sword, hoping it was cool enough, and stepped off the overpass. I fell. My feet hit the ground, and I rolled. All the energy of my fall shook through my armor, and I was fine.


    Wow.


    The rain stopped, but the world was still silver and grey. I kept running.


    I tucked around the corner down the street. Cars swerved to miss me.


    That office building over there had to have a better view of where I was. I was running blind. It was only five stories tall, quaint red brick.


    Maybe I could jump it?


    I overshot the lip of the apartment building¡¯s roof by several feet, and slipped on the concrete as I came down. I cursed under my breath, and scrambled to my feet. Where was I?


    The music picked up.


    I ran for the edge of the building, and lept to the other. Every leap was like being pushed by a strong wind at my back. Once I started, my momentum led me forward, pushing me faster, exhilarating and terrifying. My heart leapt up into my throat.


    I knew I was running towards danger. But it was enough just to run, to use my new abilities.


    I was a fool.


    I found the street with the robots. It was filled with them. Hundreds of them.


    They had a cannon with legs in the thick of it, a mobile gun platform. The barrel ran the length of a school bus. It made an awful groan of steel against asphalt as it scuttled its legs like a crab, and turned to face me.


    Well, shit.


    I threw myself flat on the roof, and rolled away as fast as I could.


    The sound was tremendous. I knew I had hearing protection, but it didn¡¯t matter. The entire quarter of the apartment complex I had been standing on erupted into the sky.


    I fell into the apartment.


    I squeezed my eyes shut as the world spun. Thankfully my VP was only present when my eyes were open.


    I opened them. I¡¯d fallen on someone¡¯s couch.


    I had to move my ass. Who knows when it would fire again?


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    I pushed the door from its hinges, and ran down the hall. Another roar of the gun. The hall behind me tore itself from the rest of the building and flew into the air.


    That was ten seconds, my HUD announced.


    It took ten seconds to recycle a round.


    I had eight.


    My legs churned. A window. I had to get closer.


    I leapt through it. Glass bounced off me, and dashed across the ground like the rain.


    Rolling, I stood to take in my surroundings.


    Three.


    I was in a sea of robots. My first instinct was to punch the one closest to me. I did.


    It knocked him off his feet. They fell back just enough to level their rifles at me. I ducked down an alley as bullets buried themselves in the pavement.


    One.


    The cannon fired, and the apartment collapsed, regurgitating debris into the street. Smoke and fine dust hung in the air, oppressively blocking my vision.


    The world was grey. With visibility close to nil, I couldn¡¯t see more than a couple feet in front of me. But neither could they.


    I had no idea what I was doing. I was surrounded by robots that wanted to kill me. There was a crab-walking robot gun somewhere in the clinging dust. I was alone.


    Where was Kalea? She was supposed to be here.


    I was alone. But I had a sword.


    My right hand went to the scabbard at my waist, and my left wrapped around the hilt of the sword. I pulled it free.


    I could see the white material of the double-edged blade shine in the light caught in the dust.


    Here goes nothing.


    Two robots wandered into the alley. I cut them both down in two strokes.


    That was easy! I wondered how long the dust would stay, and if I could just keep doing this.


    The next robot stumbled into the street carrying a ¡®pedestrian crossing¡¯ sign like a club. But I¡¯d known that would happen. How? Huh, weird. He swung it at me, and I threw myself back. The metal sign whiffed in front of my face. I lashed out with my sword at his hand, severing it neatly. The sign fell. I advanced, and cut his head from his shoulders.


    My sword glowed red against the dust, and the grey that was my world. Maybe this wasn¡¯t so hard after all! I moved back onto the street, and continued to cut them down one by one.


    The cannon fired. The asphalt in front of me peeled up, and the ensuing explosion threw me onto my back.


    Pain shot through my whole body. I had to get up!


    I scrambled to my feet, and cut down two robots that had yet to stand. Yeah, this was dumb. I was going to die for sure.


    But I had five seconds.


    I ran toward the gun, ducking around robots and cutting down those that got too close.


    Three seconds.


    I¡¯m an idiot. I could see the cannon. What was I doing? My legs pumped hard.


    One second.


    I had a clear shot at it. I fell on my side, and slid like a play for home plate. The gun roared. I could feel the asphalt shower my back.


    I was under the gun, its legs around me.


    Get up, get up, get up!


    I leapt to my feet, took the sword in both hands, and swung at the first leg. The sword bounced off the plate.


    The cannon scurried, trying to get me out from under it, but I moved to keep it above me. A robot leapt at me, and I cut it down. I swung at the leg again, this time at a spot between plates. My sword bit deep. I pulled it free.


    Two more robots came in swinging metal pipes. The first one was crushed by a leg from the Crab Walker. The second I kept at bay with wild swings.


    This was stupid. That could be me! One mistake, and I¡¯m a crunchy jelly from this thing.


    I flailed, batting aside advances from the robots, and taking swipes at that one leg when I got a chance. Only now did I notice the song. It was guiding me. And I could feel them somehow through the music. It was like reading ahead on sheet music to a song I¡¯d never heard. I had an idea of what would happen just seconds before it actually did.


    In the distance, I heard a loud crash.


    I could feel the hair that had fallen out of my bun plastered to my face with sweat. I began to tire.


    I kicked one robot in the chest, knocking it through the window of a quaint red-bricked shop close by. Another took its place. They jostled all around the gun, waiting for an opening. Why wait? A third robot leapt in, and was promptly crushed by a leg of the Crab Walker.


    Oh. That¡¯s why. Right.


    Man, this was dangerous. Why did people do this? The walker was going to kill me!


    That crashing sound again. It was closer. What was it?


    A black shape crashed into a leg of the walker, utterly destroying it. I ducked out from under the machine as it fell. The gun went off, tearing a line of destruction through the robots that surrounded us.


    It was a Knight ¡ª black, and red, and huge ¡ª not much taller than me but twice as wide. The red designs on her facemask, hard geometric designs. Two shields, one at her left shoulder and one at the elbow below, were affixed to her left arm. Her right hand held a great axe with a hook at the back.


    Kalea! I¡¯d found her!


    Not important now. We had to fight our way out of this.


    She grabbed my arm, and led me away from the crab walker that was already starting to get back up, and waved her axe in an arc. A shimmering wall surrounded us at chest height. I could see bullets pinging off it like the rain on a windshield.


    ¡°I¡¯ll shoot!¡± she said, hooking her axe to a spot under her lower shield and pulling the massive cannon from her back. ¡°You keep them off me!¡±


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am!¡± I said.


    ¡°Knights say, ¡®Yes Sir,¡¯¡± she corrected. That first part was in her language, but ¡®yes sir¡¯ was clear, pristine english.


    ¡°Yessir!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right!¡±


    Kalea¡¯s railgun ¡ª larger and considerably more dangerous than a coilgun ¡ª once deployed, was almost as long as she was tall. It was an older design of weapon. I liked it. I liked it even more when it spouted fire out the front with a roar to rival the crab walker.


    An entire line of robots, all the way to the end of the pack, crumpled in the wake of Kalea¡¯s gun.


    I ran to her at full speed. Two were coming in from her back, crawling over the shimmering wall. I dodged around her, leapt and crashed into the first, dashing him to the pavement, and swung my sword around on the second, cutting him in two. Kalea turned, and aimed the gun at me. I ducked, and moved to be at her back.


    The Crab Walker still had three legs left. It was almost on its feet again.


    I saw Kalea fire behind me, her back blocking my vision somewhat. I wished I could have seen what she did to it, but I had my hands full.


    Because there was a Silv-ite unit.


    Every horde of robots had their elite units that were differentiated from the rest by the intricate armor they wore. And with the heavier armor came the weapons they had brought from the rift. The robots had access to dizzying technology, but reserved the best of it for their elite.


    I¡¯d lucked out. There was only one.


    But that didn¡¯t matter because one would be more than enough. This one had a sword. I had my own. I had to cut him down before I was overwhelmed.


    He came in fast, silver armor flashing, his face a featureless metal helm. I batted aside the first sword blow easily, the next bit into my shoulder, deep. I ignored the blinding pain ¡ª my armor was rushing medical gel to the injury already ¡ª and I parried the next two blows.


    This was bad. I took a desperate swipe at him, but I hit air, and was forced to return to the defensive. Maybe this was how I died?


    Kalea swung her gun around. I side-stepped quickly out of her way. She kicked the Silv-ite unit in the chest, sending him soaring, and pulled the trigger.


    The fire engulfed him, bisecting him neatly.


    I leapt to defend Kalea¡¯s back.


    ¡°Good job kid,¡± she said. ¡°You set ¡®em up, and I¡¯ll knock ¡®em down!¡±


    I had just enough time to marvel at what she had done to the Crab Walker ¡ª she¡¯d torn it into three pieces ¡ª before I had to hustle to keep their melee weapons from me.


    Kalea¡¯s gun roared three more times in rapid succession. My ears rang louder.


    I cut down a small one, and turned to engage the next Silv-ite. He had a spear.


    It was all I could do to keep it away from me. I had both hands on my sword, and put everything I had into my parries. Each time I did, pain shot through my arm. I couldn¡¯t let that stop me.


    Maybe I could beat him on my own, this time.


    The end of his spear spun around, and hit me right under my helmet, and I saw stars. I parried wildly, and instinctively as my vision swam. This was bad. He flipped his spear around again, and struck me in the hip.


    I crumpled. The creature stood over me, and raised its spear. I couldn¡¯t see its eyes, had nothing to really look at on its featureless metal face. It grunted something in its mechanical language, and plunged the spear down at my chest.


    I saw Kalea drop her gun, and pull her axe.


    Down the spear came. I put everything I had behind my sword in an attempt to parry the blow just enough to miss. I caught it in a bind behind his spearhead, and it plunked down into the pavement next to me. I turned, and pushed my sword down to keep it stuck there.


    Just in time.


    Kalea collapsed his metal helm with a crunch, and kicked him away.


    Then, she dragged me to my feet just in time to meet two more regular robots that came in swinging. The first struck me in the plate covering my lower abdomen with a metal street sign. I cut him down for his trouble. The second leapt at me with a knife. I kicked him in the chest.


    And there was Kalea again, leaping in to crush his head with an axe blow.


    I turned to cover Kalea¡¯s back, and there was nothing. The robots had fled. When did that happen? I stumbled to my knees.

 Ch. 9 — After the Battle

    Kalea hooked her hand under my elbow, and pulled me to my feet.


    ¡°Stand up straight.  We¡¯ve won the day.  They¡¯re retreating.¡±


    And that was how I won my second battle.  I wasn¡¯t sure I did much.  Kalea had done all the work, really.


    She¡¯d saved me.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± I said, attempting to follow the fleeing robots, but stumbling again.  Kalea didn¡¯t have to hold onto my shoulder too hard to keep me in place.  I think something was deeply wrong with my hip.


    ¡°Not like that, you aren¡¯t,¡± Kalea said, soft and stern.


    I turned to focus my VP on her mask.  I couldn¡¯t see her face, but I imagined what it must have looked like behind it.  Was she laughing at me?  Was her face concerned?  Her mask grimaced at me, the stylized designs I almost saw as a face.  But maybe that was just the pareidolia talking.


    They looked kinda like some tattoos I¡¯d seen.  I¡¯d seen what she looked like behind that mask before, but I wondered if she had any tattoos.  What a weird thought.  Did Aliens even get tattoos?


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, relenting. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s head to the roof,¡± she said, picking up her gun.  It collapsed into a more compact version of itself, as she stowed it on her back.  She motioned to the roof closest to us.


    And before I knew it, she¡¯d dipped me into her arms, and leapt.  She set me on the roof, and I could see the city splayed out before us, the holes in the skyline smiling like broken teeth.


    ¡°Your mask,¡± Kalea said. ¡°It should be safe to breathe up here.¡±


    I tapped the bottom of my mask, and the clear bubble slid open.  I breathed the air in, and winced.  I must have hurt a rib in addition to the other injuries.


    Feeling the wind on my face was a miracle.  I pushed the strands of hair out of my eyes clumsily with my gauntlet, and took in the view.  My vision felt diminished now that I didn¡¯t have my VP, and the music was gone, but there was something more ¡ª authentic, I guess?  Something more authentic about seeing with my own eyes, free from Morrigan¡¯s input.


    I could see the capitol building from here.  It had a hole in it.  That was new.    Thin trails of smoke snaked like black ribbons against the dark blue sheet of sky.  Lit by the fading sun, twilight was well on its way.


    The spring air blew crisp and pleasant, but it hurt to breathe.  I took shallow breaths.  Kalea walked in front of me.  Her armor peeled open, and she stepped out in one fluid motion.


    She rubbed the sides of her neck under her floral culture.  The agitation seemed to flow out of her in a single breath.


    ¡°Are you hungry?¡± she asked, her voice holding some amount of kindness.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I choked out.


    Kalea turned, and tapped on her suit.  A plate slid, and a compartment opened.  She reached in, pulled out a protein bar and a bottle of water.  Getting a closer look at her suit, I could tell it was a much newer model.  Older suits looked a lot like old US Army tech from before the War, were all flat planes.  They looked a lot like the ancient tanks from before contact.  The newer ones were more organic, they almost looked like a creature, more alive.


    From our speculation ¡ª us fanatics online ¡ª it seemed like as the Knights discovered more about the pre-Somniferian tech that powered their suits and made the Dreadnaught fly, the further away from typical Terran tech it looked.


    For some reason, the Somnifer that stayed, the ones that helped us after liberating Earth, didn''t want to impose their understanding on us.  And when they went to battle alongside us, they used our technology.  Were they really stretched so thin?  Maybe.  Or maybe they just didn¡¯t care in general, and those that stayed were the weirdos.


    I tore my eyes away from her suit, and took the bar from her, ripping it open with superhuman strength.  The bar popped out of my hands, and with some scrambling I caught it before it hit the ground.  It was slightly sweet, and chocolatey, a little gritty on the tongue, but made of food I couldn¡¯t quite place.  Maybe it was meant to cater to Somniferian tastes.


    The water helped the dry food go down easier.


    ¡°Better?¡± Kalea asked.


    ¡°Some,¡± I replied.


    Kalea didn¡¯t reply, just gazed at me thoughtfully, hunched down in a squat.


    ¡°That your first combat?¡± she asked.


    I thought for a second.  Was that number three, or number two?  Or maybe it had all been one thing.


    ¡°Sorta,¡± I said weakly.


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    ¡°You¡¯re good.¡±


    I laughed, and broke into a painful cough.  I didn¡¯t feel ¡®good¡¯ at this.  I had mostly just kept the bad guys busy, so that Kalea could jump in, and finish them off.  But I was alive.  So I guessed that counted for something.


    Could I really do this?  Could I save my brother?  Save Boston?


    ¡°Obviously not good enough,¡± I said.  ¡°I think I bruised a rib.  Should I get out?¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± she replied, ¡°let the medical gel do its thing on your arm.  For a bit.  We may need to check your sternum later, make sure we don¡¯t need to pop a rib back in place.¡±


    ¡°Ouch.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s not fun.  Also,¡± she continued, ¡°make sure to take deeper breaths.  Even if it¡¯s painful.¡±


    I tried my best.  I could feel the sweat on my skin under this thing.  My armor was going to smell real rank once I was finally out of it.


    Kalea gazed into the sky, wide eyes squinting.  The wind ruffled her floral culture, and the silence hung there between us for a moment.  I looked closer at the flowers, and algae, and who knows what, that formed up her ¡®hair¡¯ so to speak.  One of the flowers was clearly a rose, but the others were either unfamiliar to me, or actually alien.


    Kalea looked at me for a moment, smiling, then finally said, ¡°Why aren¡¯t you with your aunt?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here to rescue you.  Also, I have to find, I have to find¡­¡±


    I couldn¡¯t say it for some reason.  A lump formed in my throat, and now I couldn¡¯t swallow or breathe.  I fell to my knees, and doubled over.


    I didn¡¯t want to cry.  I shouldn¡¯t.  I was 18.  I was a woman.  I had so much I had to do.


    But I couldn¡¯t do it.  I¡¯d gotten hurt.  I couldn¡¯t run like this, fight like this.


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± Kalea said.  ¡°No, you¡¯re not crying are you?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I said through the tears.  Dots formed on the concrete as they dropped there one by one.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Kalea said, kneeling next to me.  ¡°It¡¯s okay to cry,¡± she said.


    ¡°Did you?  When you first started?¡±


    ¡°Ah, no,¡± she said, with some embarrassment.  ¡°But I¡¯m an alien.¡±


    I sobbed harder.  I don¡¯t know why but this wasn¡¯t stopping.  I wanted it to stop, but it all just hit me at once.  I had to go.  I had to get up, and go save Matt, but I couldn¡¯t, and it was all my fault.  All of this was on me.


    I couldn¡¯t do it.  I¡¯d fucked it all up, and that kid would die, and it would kill my parents, and I couldn¡¯t go home after that.  Or to the dreadnought.  I couldn¡¯t go anywhere.


    I¡¯d be freaking homeless!


    ¡°Ah, shit,¡± Kalea said in English.  ¡°Now you got me going too.¡±


    I looked up at her.  She wiped a tear from her eyes.


    ¡°Wait, why are you crying?¡± I asked, just barely able to breathe.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a thing that happens with us.  You guys think that we have so much control over you with our spores and pheromones, but we¡¯re just as susceptible.¡±


    ¡°Wait really?  Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡±


    This was a dumb question. ¡®Hello alien woman, tell me everything about your biology!¡¯  Also, when would she have brought it up?


    ¡°When would I have brought it up?¡± she asked.


    There it was.


    ¡°Wait.  So if I was happy, you¡¯d be happy?¡± I asked, sniffing.


    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± she said, sitting back, resting her hands on the concrete.


    I¡¯d stopped crying now.  The weirdness of the situation had kind of shocked me out of my doom spiral.  I sat down.  A plate on my chest popped open.  A bit of cloth stuck out.


    ¡°Thanks Morrigan,¡± I said, and dabbed my face.  ¡°So how does it work?¡±


    ¡°So,¡± she said, her head bouncing around as if she were weighing what to say next.  Then, she just powered through it.  ¡°So to us, humans are a huge ball of hormones and emotions just constantly roiling, and putting it out into the air everywhere.  To some of us that aren¡¯t used to it, your feelings can sometimes overwhelm us.  Our noses are quite attuned, and our flower cultures are very delicate.  Quite like your hair, our bodies receive data from it.  So when a human cries or is in distress, it can be distressing for us too.¡±


    ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m sorry I,¡± I felt the tears coming again.


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize!¡± she said quickly, holding her hand out like she was trying to calm a scared animal.


    ¡°I''ve been around humans enough to get it,¡± she continued.  ¡°I¡¯ve had lots of practice separating my stimulus from human feelings.  This is just unexpected.  I¡¯ve done a lot of listening about this.  I know you need to release these feelings, or you could have maladaptive thoughts.¡±


    When she said listening, she meant the Somniferian Sagas.  They preferred to encode information in songs rather than words.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I said. ¡°Somniferians don¡¯t need to release their feelings?¡±


    Again, the wonder of talking, and being with an entirely different kind of being cut through all of the pain.  This was all so new to me.


    ¡°Not so much release, but share.  We have much more communal living situations.  Our culture prioritizes consensus, and support.¡±


    I thought back to some of the podcasts I¡¯d listened to.  Some of them were quite salacious about speculating on Somniferian sexuality.  Thinking about what she¡¯d just said, I could see how some people could infer that they were overly promiscuous or something.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing it,¡± she said, standing.  ¡°You¡¯re imagining that we¡¯re all some kind of ¡ª¡± here I was unable to understand what she said.  Were the spores wearing off?  Did I need more to understand what those words were?  Or was the concept just so alien, that the spores hadn¡¯t gifted me with the proper context?  How did any of this work anyway?


    ¡°I didn¡¯t understand that last word,¡± I finally said.


    Her beautiful lips quirked in annoyance.


    ¡°Yeah, I bet.  I will say that some of the rumors of Somniferian immodesty are not entirely unfounded.  Imagine all the feelings of newness and discovery of seeing an alien, mixing with an intensity of feelings from them you aren¡¯t used to managing, some of these feelings quite brazenly amorous¡­ and some of us have found ourselves flaunting fraternization norms more than is prudent.  But that just tends to be some very notable, and embarrassing outliers.  And if anything it is humans who are ¡ª¡±


    ¡°I would never assume.  But wait.  How does ¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hey, we¡¯re in the middle of a warzone, kid.  I¡¯m not gonna get into ¡ª¡±


    ¡°I was just ¡ª I wasn¡¯t meaning to ¡ª¡±


    I was absolutely meaning to.  I was 18, but not entirely innocent.  I could feel the heat spread to my face.  I was probably getting all splotchy, and thinking about that probably just made it all worse.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to make some tea,¡± Kalea said.  ¡°Do you want some tea?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.