《Overseer (Dwarf Fortress x Worm)》


 Overseer 1.1

    Overseer 1.1


    Steve ran in front of me, waving his two-handed boffer blade before being struck by two heavily padded arrows shot from two toy bows. He fell to the ground with an absurdly dramatic "Ya got me! I''m going to die here on the cold ground, my life''s blood draining away as my eyes stare off into nothingness..."


    I ignored him, trying to get closer to our enemies before they reloaded, hiding behind the shield that was nearly as tall as me, barely poking my eyes over the top of the shield as I ran. I was holding my sword arm directly behind me at full extension with the boffer short sword, so I didn''t accidentally extend my arm outside the protection of the shield as I ran. Danielle had good enough aim to hit my arm, and would try to. She''d done it before.


    As I ran, closing the gap, the next two shots from Danielle and a new male player that I didn''t know yet were low. One bouncing off the bottom of my shield, the other bouncing off the ground and barely grazing my leg. I called out "Light!" and kept running, but faked a bit of a limp.


    The new guy to Danielle''s right, my left, stepped in front of her and swung his bow in a wide sweep. I caught it on my shield with a muffled ''whump'' noise as the plastic bow hit the foam padding on the front of my wooden shield. Whoah! Definitely new to LARPing. Rules review time!


    "Watermelon!" I called out, and everyone stopped. "Thirty seconds everyone. Rules review." There were a couple sighs and various irritated grumpy noises, but no outright complaints. Most of our people knew not to whine too loud during rules reviews. It tended to drive away new players. Besides, we''d all done it every now and again, forgotten something about the safety rules when the adrenaline hit. Especially the guys, who would forget and start to swing with full extension. Even with boffer weapons, getting smacked in the nose with a full extension swing from someone hurt. Bow users were either supposed to drop their bows and use a boffer weapon, or just try to dodge or run away when approached by a melee weapon opponent or someone wearing boxing gloves that indicated deadly claws or natural weapons.


    I looked at him, and could tell from his expression that he knew he had messed up. I bonked him on the head with my shortsword. Carefully. He grinned. "You know what you did wrong? That was pretty dangerous."


    "Sorry. I wasn''t thinking." His eyes flickered over towards Danielle.


    I see.


    Danielle smiled at me, with that impish grin of hers, and moved a bit farther behind him. When she knew she''d caught my eye, she gave me a big wink, while putting her right index finger into a ring formed by her left thumb and index finger, and moving the right index finger back and forth a bit.


    I almost busted out laughing, but controlled myself with a grin.


    The guy gave me a puzzled look, and then turned a little to see Danielle, clearly noticing that I was looking at her instead of him.


    Danielle''s face became instantly innocent, almost bored looking, and she reached her arm out to his elbow. "Listen to Sharla, Mark, she needs to explain what you did wrong."


    Mark shrugged and obediently turned back to me. I started going over swing rules again for how to use boffer weapons and especially bows. He was commendably serious and apologized. I took out my infraction book and marked his name with a single infraction. Three infractions and he''d have to monster without weapons, or be a birdseed packet spellcaster for the rest of the weekend.


    Danielle certainly wasn''t completely innocent here. As I was re-explaining rules to Mark, she caught my eye again and held her hands about a foot apart, then made a huge-eyed expression of surprise as she looked at the space between her hands. I coughed and pounded my chest with my fist a second, apologizing to Mark as Danielle smiled a huge smile.


    "Sorry, one sec, I think a bug flew down my throat."


    No doubt this guy would be sharing her sleeping bag tonight, and she had probably been building up to it for a while, to the point where he was instinctively protecting her. He was a little tubby, maybe, but well-tanned and handsome. Maybe Mediterranean? He was wide across the shoulders, and had big hands. I looked again. Very big hands. Dragging my eyes away from his hands, I saw that his forearms were heavily muscled. He had probably been an athlete a few years ago in high school. Danielle might not just be playing games with my head. Sometimes her stories made me wish I could get into the whole non-committal relationship thing, but I''d tried it, and it really hadn''t worked well with me. I couldn''t deal with the risk. Computer games and books couldn''t get me pregnant.


    Smiling at my twin sister''s antics, I finished explaining the rules, then added a bit extra. "OK. Cro-magnon instincts confirmed. Trying to protect the sexy lady archer is commendable. You can stand in front of her but you should fall if boffered enough to lower your health to zero. Try not to do it again, OK?"


    He blushed a little bit and quickly glanced back at Danielle who smiled brightly and nodded. Cleverly, he turned back to me and said "Uh. Yes. I''ll remember."


    I nodded, and then, quickly, called out "Resume!!" and boffered him a dozen times before he could back away, again and again until he pretend-fell down, lying on his back.


    Mark was laughing but still complaining. "That wasn''t fair. You''re supposed to give a ten second warning before resume! I know I read that."


    He was laughing, so he''s not a creep. At least not a horrible creep. Have fun Sis.


    "Oh. Hush. I''m doing you a favor." I said to him as I advanced on Danielle who was laughing hard and somehow managing to not be able to draw her bow and shoot at me. I boffered her until she was ''dead'' too.


    Before she fell down, she staggered several steps toward Mark while spinning around a couple times, and then fell to her knees and forward, draping herself across him. He caught her as she fell, but was clearly smart enough to figure out that she intended to fall exactly where she was falling, so he let her fall on top of him.


    Danielle ducked her head up underneath his chin and wriggled her body to the position she wanted it in, then grabbed his left hand and looked closely at his fingers, before saying "Oh, Goodie."


    Mark had a very stunned look on his face. One I had seen before with Danielle''s LARP weekend conquests. As I turned around, Danielle was wriggling her hips against his a little bit, saying something about getting comfortable while they waited for the healers. As I turned away, I saw Danielle give me a thumbs-up.


    You owe me one, sis. I thought as I turned away, my face feeling like it was on fire.


    A few minutes later, I was standing up from where I had been laying on the ground (by myself) after being slaughtered by the enemy fortress champion. The match was ended, and the monsters had won. The ''healers'' had raised us all, and Danielle was sitting in Mark''s lap at a picnic table. I looked forward to hearing about it tomorrow. It was sure to be good relaxation material.


    All of a sudden there was a whistle, and I heard Carrie call out. "Everyone, we have newcomers! Monster players from another LARP group in Cincinnati! They''ve brought an incredible beast costume. Please be extra careful with the boffers, we don''t want to damage it."


    The beast costume was pretty incredible looking, a giant scorpion. The man walking next to it was wearing a black robe, and a cheezy wizard hat with stars and moons. He was carrying two short boffer daggers.


    The man spoke. "It''s a tinker-made suit folks, you can hit it as hard as you want. Well, within the rules." He shrugged and grinned. "Wouldn''t want anyone to get hurt, would we?"


    Carrie blew her whistle again. "Let''s give the new monsters a warm welcome, they are both enemies of the realm! Huzzah!"


    There was a great cheer and most of us dashed forward, running until we were within a few feet of the giant scorpion and the wizard, then slowing and walking forward. The archers and spellcasters stayed back.


    The wizard yelled "I am the great and mighty Whizbang, and this is my trusty mount, Crawler, you will never defeat us!" He jumped on top of the suit, standing there, and the suit didn''t budge, just slowly waving its two large claws and tail.


    Someone inside the scorpion suit said "Chitter. Chitter. Screee!!", and there was a collective laugh from everyone as we started beating on the scorpion, and trying to get at the wizard, all of us calling out our weapon damage as we hit it repeatedly.


    A few seconds later, the man in the scorpion suit, yelled out. "This is hilarious, Jack. We really need to do this again."


    The wizard, who was still standing on the scorpion''s back replied, "Yes. Yes, it is. And it''s about to get a whole lot more fun!"


    The wizard swung one of his boffer daggers into the crowd, and a small bag of birdseed flew out of my line of sight. "Death!" he cried, naming the high level spell. There was a gurgling scream. Someone had managed a great death sound. There was some cheering as we continued to beat on the scorpion and a couple people with longer weapons started getting hits on the wizard too.


    The wizard and the man on the suit were laughing like madmen, really sounding evil. They were good. Really good.


    Then I noticed that one of ''Whizbang''s'' boffer daggers had lost its sheath. We needed to get that handled before someone was hurt. As I called out "Watermelon" and backed away from the melee, I looked for Carrie. She might have seen where the boffer dagger padding had fallen.


    Carrie was laying on the ground. That wasn''t right. Carrie was handicapped, one leg and one arm missing from the aftermath of a cape fight, so we had special rules for engaging her, to keep her from being knocked off her feet. During special battles, when things might get a bit crazy, she always stayed back and acted solely as a judge.


    I walked over to her where she was lying in a fetal position with her back to me, and toed her with my sneaker. "Hey, you''re supposed to be watching and immune to cast spells." She didn''t move. I pushed my toe against her again, just a little harder. "That means you, Carrie. Did you see where Jack''s boffer cover went?"


    I looked up and saw another new person. Some woman in a zebra outfit that made her look naked. I think you''re here on the wrong weekend, lady. The furries are here next week, according to the park schedule. She was holding up a smartphone, clearly videoing the special melee. Maybe she was Jack''s wife? I made a note to myself to talk to the woman after the special event. That is a pretty hot suit. I bet Danielle would love one like it. It would be an awesome Christmas gift, and I bet she would even blush when she opened it and realized what it was.


    I noticed a heavy coppery smell, and someone nearby had clearly farted obnoxiously, recently because that scent was strong too. Carrie bounced forward weirdly, like there wasn''t any muscle tone to her at all, and then she flopped back towards me. The front of her green dress was black with blood. Her hands were covered with blood, her arms. There was blood everywhere. I screamed, and jumped back.


    I vaguely remember Jack''s voice saying "Resume!!" and then the chorus of screams started. For the rest of my life I would never forget the carnage. My LARP group almost literally exploded. Everyone in melee range of the scorpion died or was mortally injured instantly. The spray of blood blinded me momentarily, and I fell to my knees in shock, rubbing the blood out of my eyes instinctively.


    "Catch them, my trusty scorpion steed, the archers and spellcasters must not escape!" The wizard yelled as he swung his arms back and forth. I heard more screams and watched the horrific scene in shock as the scorpion quickly skittered over the pile of my dead friends.


    Jack. Jack Slash. Crawler. I looked over at the woman in the naked furry zebra suit. Siberian.


    My mind stopped working as I knelt there.


    ...


    A gentle hand cupped my chin and lifted my head so I could look forward. As my head came up, I saw brown leather boots under a black robe first, then noted the heavy splatters of blood on the boots and the robe. I tried to duck my head down again, but the hand was too strong.


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    A man''s face looked into mine, his eyes darting from place to place on my face before he looked behind him, to his right, my left. "Yup. I bet I''m right. They''re identical twins."


    A little girl''s voice said. "I''m not sure, Jack. They might just be fraternal. Oh, Jack, I have an idea!!" I heard the sound of clapping and a light thumping, and an image of a little girl jumping up and down ecstatically popped into my head. "We can ask her! I''m sure she knows."


    The man turned towards the little girl''s voice and said. "You know, I bet you''re right." He turned back to me, still holding my face up. "Riley, please bring her over here."


    I heard the pitter-patter of little feet running, and then some little-girl grunts and something sliding across the ground. A little girl came into view, dressed almost like a doll, with cute pigtails. She saw me looking at her and waved at me shyly. "Hello, I''m Riley. Is this your twin sister or are you just fraternal?"


    As she spoke, Riley finished pulling her burden. A woman''s hand came into view, then the arm, and then the shoulder and then my sister''s face, turned to me, a little dribble of blood coming out of her mouth, her eyes open and staring in my direction. Riley kept dragging her, and I noticed the rest of my sister was gone below the waist, red, ropy flesh hanging out.


    "Danielle!" I screamed, and punched the man holding my face as I tried to scramble to my sister.


    The man''s face barely budged from my blow. He shook his head. "No, No. We don''t want to know her name. Is she your identical, or fraternal twin?"


    I just stared at my sister, and over her staring eyes I saw the pile of dead friends in LARP armor and scattered boffer weapons.


    "This is all real. Ohgod. Please help me. Anyone help me." I whispered, knowing that there was no way I could possibly survive this. "Please kill me quickly." I whimpered.


    The man smiled. "So confused." His head tilted a little to my right. "Help me." His head tilted back the other way a little, to my left. "Kill me. Which do you want?" He raised one eyebrow like Spock. "I have a better question. How are you even thinking about asking favors? You''ve been so rude. We just asked a simple question, and you haven''t answered it. Is this young lady your fraternal or twin sister?" He paused a moment. "Sorry, wrong tense, I suppose. Was this young lady your fraternal or twin sister?" He smiled a friendly-uncle smile.


    The friendly smile broke me. My hands jerked and moved to my throat, then there was darkness. A few moments later, my hearing returned and I heard voices.


    Riley, no, Bonesaw was chattering excitedly. "It was a trigger, I know it! I know it! We can''t kill her. You were pushing her so hard, Jack, she''s bound to have something potent. We could even put her sister''s corpse in a couple coolers and I''d have spare parts for her." She paused. "Can I keep her? Pretty Please?"


    "Well, I suppose so, Riley. But she''s your responsibility. If you forget to feed her, none of the rest of us will." That voice. So calm and mellow, it made it even more frightening.


    I shivered violently as the little girl''s voice responded. "I promise, I''ll take good care of her and brush her hair and feed her, Jack. Promise. She''s probably housebroken. Though, it seems like she might have broken training today."


    The mellow voice spoke again. "OK, Riley. I''ll hold you to that. Siberian, did you get most of that recorded? I really want to see the Youtube comments before they remove it." There was a pause, before he spoke again. "Great!"


    A rough male voice chuckled and then spoke. "I''ll never have to worry about being beaten to death with pipe insulation ever again!"


    Four voices laughed at that.


    My hand clenched in response on the USB pendant. I felt something. A strange sensation, like there was something active inside. That was clearly impossible. The only thing in the pendant was the storage chip for my current Dwarf Fortress game.


    I felt it again. Then there was a weak voice in my head. Call us, Overseer. Call us. We''re ready!


    So this is what it''s like to be insane. I thought to myself. Why not? Maybe if I lose myself in the insanity, I won''t know what they do to me.


    I chuckled to myself, and mumbled "All warriors of Axespeaker, to me! Protect your Overseer!"


    I felt a strange sensation pass through my body, and all of a sudden I smelled leather and sweat.


    I glanced up, and there were many absurdly thick, hairy, stumpy bodies in light blue armor surrounding me. Their ponytails were ankle length, and I could see beards just as long dangling from their faces. Their wrists were nearly as thick as my waist, and those wrists hung to their ankles when they stood upright. They couldn''t have been over five feet tall, and they were broader across the shoulders than they were tall.


    Haha welcome to insanity. Dwarves look exactly like I thought they did.


    Bonesaw squealed in glee. "Jack, she''s a Master!! There must be a dozen of them. Armor, weapons, they are fantastic! This will be so fun!"


    I felt huge hands quickly grab me, and a voice spoke, so deep that I felt it more than heard it. "Urist, the Overseer is Human? How can that be?"


    Another incredibly deep voice. "Odo, I don''t care if she''s a fuzzy wambler, she''s the Overseer. She called us here to protect her, and these other humans were surrounding her and offering her no succor from the megabeast there. Overseer are there any allies here? Can you speak?"


    I whispered "No. They said I was the only one left." Urist Copperstriker, was my fortresses'' most experienced legendary axemaster. He had defeated two forgotten beasts by himself after I accidentally opened a path to one of his socks he''s lost in the third layer caverns, and he went to go retrieve it. I saw that this Urist was also missing a left hand. Could this be real? Could Bonesaw be right? Were these my dwarves, made real?


    I laughed loudly. "Let''s have FUN!" I shouted at the top of my voice. My dwarves roared in unison "For the Overseer of Axespeaker! Blood for Armok!"


    I heard the mellow voice get a little excited. "Siberian, protect Riley and me. Crawler, get the girl! Do NOT kill her. If these things are half as tough and crazy as they look, she deserves a chance to join us."


    Me. S9? My mind fled from the thought and I buried my face in the beard of the dwarf carrying me like an infant in its left arm. "Please, don''t let them have me. Kill me before they can take me." I begged.


    There was no verbal response for a moment, then a rumbling voice responded. "I, Odo Frostwheel, will honor your wish, Overseer."


    Most of my dwarves had rushed forward, but a few stayed by me. One hammered his fist into the ground hard enough that I felt my bones shiver, and left it there for a moment. It, he, I think, nodded to himself. "There is no aquifier here, and the soil is deep. We can dig quickly. Shall I start?"


    Odo replied quickly. "Yes, Iton, drive a shaft. Make it fast. Whatever that megabeast is, it''s just ripped Ulok''s arm off. Weapons just bounce off the other three. The Overseer had very powerful enemies."


    I had to give them direction, they didn''t know capes. "Tougher than a megabeast." I corrected. "Consider the crawling one a god. Delay it. The strongest and deadliest one is the striped one. She cannot be hurt, and anything she touches can''t be hurt. She can destroy anything. She''s worse than what lies under the adamantite layer. We cannot win here, we can only delay and attempt escape."


    My dwarves muttered excitedly to themselves. The one that asked if he could start digging pulled a huge pick off his back, and started to swing. A literal fountain of dirt began to fly through the air behind the digger, and I heard my dwarves speaking again, but so low that I couldn''t hear it over the noises of the digging.


    Crawler shouted "Jack, the constructs have powers! Do you see the geokinetic there? The ones on me are all low grade brutes, and the blue axes actually cut me a little. Siberian, don''t let them go, there are four of the constructs with crossbows pointed your way. This is awesome! I ripped one''s arm off when it tried to bite me, and it laughed, picked up the arm, and started beating me with it."


    The mellow voice again. So beautiful, so frightening. Despite all the noise, it cut through the air like he was speaking next to my ear. "Withdraw. We can''t properly test her without agreement from the others, and Cherish and Burnscar went shopping. Crawler, get the ID from her sister''s corpse. We''ll find her again." He paused a moment, and then continued. Shivers ran up and down my spine as I could clearly sense the joy in his voice. "Girl, I like your style. You''re going to fit right in. Like you said, it will be FUN!" He pronounced the last word with gusto.


    Bonesaw whined. "You promised Jack, she would be mine, not a team member."


    "It''ll be more fun this way, Riley, can''t you see it? The possibilities?"


    "Well, I suppose so, Jack. Can I have a puppy instead?" There was a little whining tone in the voice at the end.


    The dwarf carrying me backed slowly into the hole in the ground and my battered and bloody dwarves followed, being showered with the flood of dirt being thrown towards us by the dwarf whose pick was moving almost too fast to see. They were all grinning madly, one of them was dragging what looked like his own arm behind him, bleeding heavily and lurching a bit.


    A couple minutes later at the end of a tunnel hundreds of feet long, now extending through at least fifty feet of stone, Urist Copperstriker reported to me as I was being carried. "The siege has been lifted, Overseer, but if I understood them right, they will return. We will need to prepare. They are too strong to fight in the open. The zebra-striped one destroyed my masterwork shield with a headbutt when I tried to bash her." He shook his head and lifted his artifact adamantite axe, ringed with obsidian, menacing with spikes of diamond. "Even Catgutter couldn''t cut the zebra-striped one, but she seemed surprised when I struck her with it and she slapped it out of my grasp. It almost seemed like she thought she should be able to damage an artifact axe. Madness."


    I realized that I was seeing everything like it was in full daylight. Why can I see underground? There''s not even a torch here?


    One of the other dwarves had found a boulder and carved a crude chair out of it in thirty seconds, and the dwarf carrying me set me in it.


    The coldness of the stone made me shiver. The shivering made me remember. "Danielle." I sobbed, numb, emotion beginning to seep back into me as I sat on the stone chair.


    With the exception of Urist, all of my dwarves found something else to look at, examining the walls and floor, looking at stone and soil, anything but looking at me. One of them started etching something into a wall with a small tool. Urist leaned forward a bit towards me, eagerly. "They killed your sister, did they? I heard them say that." His eyes bored into mine. Grey clouds in white orbs, glinting with barely suppressed madness. "Is this blood feud, Overseer Sharla?"


    All of a sudden, I remembered. Urist was a vampire dwarf. At least I was pretty certain he was. I had suspected it after he survived the two forgotten beasts while collecting his old sock.


    His eyes ignited a well of hatred within me, which began to grow, consuming all other emotion. I stared back into Urist''s eyes, feeling the challenge from him, towards me. Emotion bounced back and forth between us, growing in intensity as we locked eyes. My sadness drained away, replaced by hatred. Pure, cold hatred. I felt my hatred flow to my dwarves, who all turned to me and stood just a little straighter, looked a little bit angrier. Except the dead one missing an arm. He seemed to have disappeared.


    Urist finally turned away from me in submission, with a little bow, and I responded to him. "Yes, it is blood feud, Urist."


    We all cheered at the declaration, a bloodthirsty howl.

 Overseer 1.2

    I was exhausted, but kept drawing raw materials, tools, and dwarves out of my saved game anyway. One of the first things I had tried to do was summon a second Urist Copperstiker, but he wasn''t there. Apparently I could only summon each dwarf once. The dwarf with the missing arm was gone from this world, and the save. When they died, they were gone.


    That made things a lot scarier. I had been hoping to use artifact doors and grates to build a safe area, duplicating them to create entire rooms. That wasn''t possible. My fort was well established, with a substantial number of artifact items, but a lot of it was useless. An artifact cinnabar flute was not going to be useful. Besides, cinnabar had mercury in it.


    The dwarves were madly carving out a new fortress. I had summoned all of them out of the saved game fort now, except for the children, and there were dwarves everywhere. One hundred eighty dwarves madly trying to build traps and defenses, storage areas and workshops. It was no surprise to me that they insisted that the brewery and kitchen were built first.


    Right now though, I was speaking with the bookkeeper, who was tugging on his beard nervously. "Overseer, I''m having a really hard time here. Some of these things that the outdoor scavenging crews are finding? I have no idea what they are. The craftdwarfship on some of it is amazing, but made of such terribly flimsy materials. Refined hydrocarbons for the shells of tools? I can''t wrap my mind around it. I have never seen tools like this. I don''t rightfully know if they are tools."


    "Tikon. I understand. Anything you cannot identify, we will put in a separate stockpile. I will identify it, and designate it for melting if I don''t want it for myself." A thought struck me. "Actually, I will only designate for melting if the fortress needs the materials. Otherwise I want to keep human technology items in the secure storage area with mood materials. I would be very interested to see what sorts of things a moody mechanic or weaponsmith comes up with."


    "I, well, yes. I can do that, Overseer. But can I join you when you go identify things, so I can learn what they are? Surely they aren''t all incredibly complex technology that requires mastery level skills to comprehend?"


    I sighed. "All of you want to learn so much, Tikon. I understand that. Especially since you were a founding member of the fortress, and an accomplished mechanic before I put you in charge of bookkeeping and the trade depot. Defense, however, comes first. The S9 said they were coming back. They want to make me one of them."


    He nodded his massive head. As a non-warrior, he did not braid his beard. It was a luxurious growth that covered half of the width of his chest. "I understand. I would like to offer a suggestion though. You keep mentioning ''electricity'' as a requirement for so many of these devices. You describe it as if it were controlled lightning." He paused, waiting for me to respond.


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    "Yes, electricity is vital to a great number of human technologies, and hydrocarbons too." I really needed to end this conversation. I desperately wanted something to drink.


    Tikon squinted at me. "Overseer. As a mechanic of no small skill, even though those skills are rusty, I tell you that the thought of potentially harnessing lightning to use against enemies in traps fills me with a great need. A growing need. We have already established that, somehow, we can read human texts. You do not have the time to teach us all, but we have found a great number of tomes in these strange self-articulated carts that the haulers are bringing in. Allow us to study them."


    I was puzzled, momentarily. What did he mean, being filled with a great need? Oh, shit! My eyes snapped to his. "Tikon, are you saying that you feel as if you are about to enter a mood? I wasn''t aware that you could know it would happen in advance."


    Tikon nodded, then shrugged. "I have no idea how you know so much about us, or why we even listen to you. You''re human, for Armok''s sake, but reality is reality. He leaned a bit forward, across the table. You don''t know everything about us though. Let us study the books. If you can find books that explain this, electricity, then I need them." When he said ''need'' his eyes bored into mine.


    I stared back at him, thinking thoughts about berserk dwarves and tantrum spirals. Tikon knows everyone in the fort. He''s one of the three surviving out of the original seven. God, I need a drink. "Tikon, I don''t know how well this will work, because, well, weird shit. I''m giving you a new job. Electrician. Have a new storage facility designated for books. Remove books from the main tool storage. Make sure that all human-made containers are opened and checked for books as well."


    My brain screamed. Alcohol. NOW.


    Tikon was watching my face, and his head tilted a bit. "Are you well, Overseer Shayla?"


    I reached forward and grabbed his beard in both hands, and yanked, trying to pull him closer to me across the top of my desk. I only succeeded in making him wince, and pulled myself halfway across my desk towards him. It wasn''t exactly the image I was trying to cultivate. I let go of his beard and lifted myself off my desk, back to my feet.


    "No. I''m not well, Tikon. I just watched my sister and a lot of my best friends torn apart in front of me. The S9 want to recruit me, or kill me, or turn me into a sockpuppet for Bonesaw. On top of that, I''m tired and I''m fairly sure I''m going insane."


    Tikon looked up at me, mild concern on his face. "I see."


    "And I need something with alcohol in it. NOW!" I screamed.


    Tikon jumped to his feet. "Now, that''s serious!"

 Overseer 1.3

    Tikon and I walked to the nearest drink storage depot, and I started to look for a mug. The fortress had thousands of mugs. None of them were here, I realized, because I had set up a trade goods depot for mugs, instruments, and non-utilitarian finished goods close to the entrance in the saved game fortress; Iton and the other miners and craftsdwarves had been told to duplicate their old home as faithfully as possible.


    My companion grabbed a handle on top of the nearest barrel and pulled the top off it. He sniffed, got a big smile on his face, and then startled me by sticking his head into the barrel. After about five seconds, he pulled his head out. He shook his head like a wet dog, and I was sprayed with what smelled like beer.


    I just stood there, shocked by the utter strangeness of his behavior for a moment.


    Tikon sighed. "That''s some good beer." He looked back at me and beckoned me towards the barrel.


    I approached the barrel slowly. It was a really good beer smell, I had to admit. Very fruity. The closer I got to it, the more the little voice in my head yelled at me to...


    DRINK!


    I didn''t have a mug though. I couldn''t bring myself to just stick my head in the beer. I had no idea what a beer bath would do to my cornrows, and I doubted very seriously that there were any dwarves in the fortress with hairdressing skills. That was certainly NOT on the skills list. Then again, I thought to myself, electrician wasn''t on the list either.


    Tikon was still watching me. "If you don''t like dwarven beer, Overseer, I see some human-made sewer brew over there." After a pause, when I didn''t respond, he continued. "If you tell us what you like, we can arrange for a small depot of your favorite drinks and foods to be kept near your quarters."


    My need for alcohol finally overcame my need for clean hair. I dunked my head into the beer and took two big swallows, then pulled my head out of the barrel.


    It was delicious. Absolutely incredible. A traitorous thought skated across the surface of my mind. "But, I hate beer?"


    I went stiff, and realized that no matter what some people said about Master capes, it was clear that my dwarves were tainting me with their sensibilities. This was not a one-way connection. Part of me wanted to give into that, at least until after the S9 showed up. A very big part of me. Because dwarves were insanely brave when they were called on to fight. Another part of me wailed and screamed and reminded me that dwarves were demented psychopaths who were firmly of the opinion that magma was part of an elegant solution to almost every problem.


    The practical, scared-shitless side of me screamed Worry about sanity after survival!


    Scared-shitless persona wins, I decided. Go with the flow.


    I concentrated and could see the connections between me and the one hundred eighty-what? I paused and examined the connections again. One hundred eighty-one dwarves. One of the haulers had given birth while dragging a Ford Mustang to the Human tech depot.


    Was there a limit of two hundred dwarves in my real-life fortress? I sighed and summoned all the children from the fortress save. I had wanted them out of the way, but if the dwarven females who were married were going to pop out new kids every year until they reached two hundred population again, I might as well have older children who could be somewhat useful.


    I touched my USB fob on my necklace and twenty dwarven children popped into existence around me, immediately scattering, except for the youngest children who simply cried and waited for their mothers to show up.


    I shook my head. Five crying babies on top of everything else. I walked out of the room, towards the new book storage depot. I saw a dozen dwarves running past me with bins, going in the same direction. "Tikon, can we store books in cabinets, or on shelves, please? Storing them in bins will be cumbersome. I''d also like them arranged by topic and alphabetically."


    Walking beside me, Tikon said nothing for a couple steps. "Ah. What is a shelf?"


    I stared at Tikon for a moment. He stared back, waiting for an answer as we walked.


    "Sorry, I forget that there are a lot of very simple concepts that you were never exposed to. It''s a flat surface that you can place things on top of. If you build several of the flat surfaces one above one another, with a casing around them, and something backing the storage surfaces so things don''t fall out the back, you create a very large surface area for organized storage of small objects, using little floorspace."


    Tikon''s eyes lit up. He stopped, and turned to the stone wall beside us and pulled out some sort of chisel from a pocket. In a few deft strokes, he scraped out a very good image of a simple shelf. "Like this?" He poked the chisel at the shelves, drawing vertical lines above one of the shelves. "And the books fit on the shelf like so?"


    After seeing how rapidly he had just scraped an image into stone, I was stunned. "Exactly." I muttered.


    "That''s brilliant." He threw back his head and laughed with a huge belly laugh that I could feel reverberate through me. "I have no idea how Dwarfkind could have possibly missed this idea for so many centuries." Tikon slapped me on the back, and I was thrust forward, stumbling about ten feet before regaining my balance.


    "OW, Tikon!" I yelled. That''s going to leave a bruise. Across half my back. I glowered at Tikon.


    He was oblivious, until he looked up at me and then at his hand. "Oh. Sorry Overseer. I forget how pathet... err, fragile humans are."


    "I''m going to need adamantite armor to survive the goodwill of the fortress, I think." I muttered as I knuckled my back.


    Tikon nodded. "I have just added that to the list of work orders, as highest priority, Overseer. Our best armorsmith is collecting adamantite wafers now."


    I reached out to my dwarves, searching connections, and found Grandmaster Armorsmith Azon Oakweaver literally running from one stockpile to the next, collecting components.


    "Do I need to be fitted?"


    "Fitted? I don''t understand."


    "How does he know how big to make it?"


    Tikon beetled his brow and looked up at me with no small amount of confusion. "You''re part of us. We know. He knows. It will fit perfectly."


    Several dwarves ran past where we were talking at a sprint, carrying... shelves.


    "You guys are so incredible. When you were just a game, well, you were fun, but here? This is worth potential insanity. I could lose myself here, I think."


    I gave Tikon a hug. "Thank you."


    Even if they weren''t fully real, my dwarves were real enough. I had no illusions about being able to fight off the S9 all by myself, but before I died I''d damn well take some of them with me. I snarled to myself If they think they can take me alive, there''s a lever in the room next to my bedroom that says otherwise.


    There were a score of dwarves in the book storage room when we arrived, half of them were working, and half of them were running their fingertips over shelves and examining the construction with huge grins on their faces.


    Tikon left my side, running to what looked to be a granite shelf, inspecting it closely and smiling, almost caressing the stone. It was weird, but if it made them happy, I was all for it. Anything to prevent a tantrum spiral would be good. I habitually did my best to keep my dwarves happy. I was extremely glad that I had done so.


    I began examining books, skimming over the large hardback college texts first. Engineering students always complained about the absurdly huge books they had to drag around.


    After a few seconds, I found what I was looking for. Fundamentals of Physics 101 and 102. I pulled them off the shelf, and handed them to Tikon. "These describe the basics of how this world works, Tikon. Not just electrical information, but mechanical too. After you read these, I am certain that you will be able to find other texts here that will be of interest. I see several engineering and math books."


    I pulled out a Basic Algebra and Basic Calculus book as well. "You will want..." My hands were sticky and stuck to the Basic Calculus book. I looked down at the book and my hands, and there was crusted red, sticky blood on both. With shaking hands, I opened the book and saw the name "Cassie Smith" on the inside cover.


    I fell to my knees, dropping the book, open, in front of me. "Cassie. I''m sorry Cassie."


    My dwarves in the room with me stared with glittering eyes of many different colors. I could feel their connection to me. I could feel them feeling what I was feeling. Helplessness. Fear. I was eroding their happiness level, slowly. I could feel it.


    One of the connections blazed back at me, and I could feel the anger returning as Urist jammed a thought into my skull. "Blood Feud, Overseer Shayla. Blood Feud. You know what I am. I will not let you make me a mewling wreck. I will kill you first, and fade into oblivion before you make me a coward."


    That mental declaration shot through me like a lightning bolt. The scared-shitless part of me squealed and tried to bury itself under the angry part of myself, and thanks to Urist''s efforts, there was plenty of anger to hide under.


    I examined my connections to my other dwarves. They, for some reason, were nowhere near as strong as my connection to Urist. I tried to push a thought to Urist. "Do not threaten me, Urist. I am in control here."


    All I received in reply was a malevolent chuckle before his connection to me reverted to the same type of basic connection I shared with my other dwarves.


    As I came back to myself, the room was empty except myself and Tikon. The books were all shelved, and Tikon was rapidly flipping pages in the algebra book. When he saw me move, he said "We have made a bed for you, Overseer. You don''t have to sleep here. The woodcutters have been working to build up stores for a siege, but everyone has a bed of their own."


    I nodded as I stood. There were plans to make. I could really use information. I knew very little about the S9 really, only what everyone knew from mass media.


    "Tikon spoke, gently. This Cassie person. She was a smith?" His face had some small compassion visible.


    I smiled weakly, and tried to phrase reality in a way that he could understand right now. "No, Tikon, she was studying to be a teacher of young humans. She had been seriously injured in a fight. Our... nobility, provided her with funds to survive on while she learned to teach. The last name does not hold any meaning more than identity."


    Time stopped.


    Just like that. Time stopped.


    I couldn''t move. Only my mind was active. None of the minds of my dwarves were active either.


    I noticed something, at the far end of my ability to sense. There was a human there. I nearly panicked, thinking "I''m not ready!" as I imagined that the S9 were already here.


    As I started to panic about what the intruders were, I all of a sudden realized that I did, in fact, know what they were. I had a very tentative connection to them, like the one I had to my dwarves. I concentrated on the intruding Human. It was a ''PRT Trooper.''


    My inner scared-shitless-self poked her head out from under my angry-self long enough to say that they might think we had killed all our friends.


    I don''t need more enemies. I thought to myself. I have to speak to them myself. I can''t control my dwarves well enough to talk to humans reliably.


    I sent a command to my dwarves to all return to the main burrow. Then I commanded Urist to join me at the obsidian depot, and the rest of the military dwarves to wait nearby.


    I watched as the humans approached. Two, then five, then twenty. Fifty, a hundred.


    My anger started bubbling as their numbers increased. I found myself muttering to myself. They are just humans. Terrible equipment. Weak. Almost as pathetic as elves. Urist could probably kill them all himself if they...


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Stop that! I yelled at myself as I tried to damp down my connection to my dwarves.


    I thought I had yelled it to myself. A cautious voice, female, called out from the tunnel entrance nearly a hundred yards away. "We''re stopping. Can we talk?"


    "Briefly. Do you have satellite uplink equipment or a portable database on the S9? I need more information about the S9 so I can kill them when they come back to try to recruit me. Again."


    There was a long delay. "The S9 Youtubed what happened. The PRT, that''s us, saw the video. We know what happened. Your parents saw the video. Dragon has sent a drone to bring them here. We only want to help."


    My mind went to pieces. "Mom! Dad! Danielle!!" I screamed as I collapsed to my knees, and started to cry.


    Out of the corner of my eye I saw Urist stiffen and stare at me, his face becoming extremely angry. His mental connection forced its way into my head. "You have an unknown amount of time. Perhaps a day or less to prepare to defeat the strongest enemies I have ever encountered. Stop whining and trying to drag me down with you! Your parents will only make you weaker and take away your time. Send them away. If you survive this, then you can celebrate your victory with your parents. They will rejoice at the deaths of the ones who slaughtered their other daughter. Blood Feud, Overseer. Blood Feud."


    The anger flooded me, but a curiosity too. "Urist, are you a manifestation of schizophrenia?" I said out loud.


    Cold satisfaction came across the link. I don''t know what that is, though I get a sense of it from your thoughts. You don''t really know what it is either, I can tell. I''ll just say that I don''t care what I am, as long as you don''t infect me with weakness.


    I stood. I could see where all the humans were, and some of them were moving around carefully, looking at the site of the killing.


    Something in my mind intruded on my thoughts. Flutes. You must trade three flutes.


    I grabbed the side of my head with both hands, and yelled at the ceiling. "Flutes? How do Flutes matter? I don''t even like flutes!"


    The human woman''s voice wafted down the tunnel to me after a brief delay and some muttering that I couldn''t understand. "Your parents are nearly here. We can help you. You''ve had something horrible happen to you. We have resources to help victims. If you are injured, we can get you healed. Will you talk to us? Will you meet your parents?"


    Something tripped in my head, and I blazed, screaming at the top of my lungs. "If you bring my parents here, I will kill you all!"


    There was silence, and I saw the humans begin to retreat towards the edges of my awareness.


    I yelled, loud but more controlled. "The S9 are coming back. For me. I don''t know when. They said tomorrow, but that means nothing and you know it. All I want from you is information about them, as much at you have. Then I want you to get the fuck out of my way so I can get ready to try to kill them when they come try to recruit me."


    The woman''s voice called out, calmly. "One minute please, Shayla. We''re redirecting your parents to a safe house in a different city."


    Urist shouted out. "You will call her Overseer, or Overseer Shayla, never by her given name alone, human lackey!"


    The calm woman''s voice spoke again. "Apologies, Overseer Shayla, we were not aware you had taken a cape name yet."


    I yelled back. "Are we done with this conversation yet? You are distracting me and my dwarves when we should be concentrating on death traps for the S9. I really need information about them, unless you want them to take me."


    Flutes! Must trade flutes!


    I sent a quick command for three masterpiece silver flutes to be delivered to the depot. The insistence wasn''t going away.


    "We want to take you away from them, Overseer Shayla, so they can''t find you, so you can get help. Your parents want to help too. They love you and they are hearing this conversation right now."


    Rage coursed through me. "The S9 killed my twin sister! They say they are coming back. You will have to kill me to keep me from staying here to try to end them. If you really do have my parents listening to this, then I don''t need to ask you to tell them that I love them, and I''m going to try to avenge Danielle. I''ll die inside if I don''t at least try."


    I sniffled loudly, then shouted again, with a raspy voice. "If I live, I''ll grieve then. I will not allow myself to be captured alive. Right now I need my rage and not other people''s kindness!"


    Three dwarves arrived at a sprint, placing the three masterwork silver flutes studded with precious stones in the depot, then going off somewhere. Probably a party in the dining hall.


    Flutes! Flutes! Must trade Flutes!


    "I need to give you flutes!" I shouted.


    "What? Say again?" My counterpart shouted back from the tunnel entrance, sounding very confused.


    "Look, I have this voice in my head insisting that I have to trade flutes. It''s driving me nuts."


    "I... see. Dragon has requested to meet you, if that''s possible, Overseer. She has one of her small remotes nearby than can fit into this tunnel. She has a data package and a laptop computer to give you, if you will meet with her. I suspect she might be willing to, ah, trade it to you for flutes."


    Urist looked at me and grinned, speaking in a conversational voice. "A dragon? I would enjoy meeting a dragon."


    I whispered forcefully at him. "Shut up Urist, Dragon is another cape. She creates... golems. That''s what a ''remote'' is to her."


    Urist''s face fell, slightly. "Disappointing. I killed the last dragon in year 56. It was fun."


    I stared at him, and he smiled at me, then ducked his head fractionally.


    The woman and her two partners were rapidly moving away from the entrance, and a new intruder appeared. As expected, it was tagged in my head as a golem, with no precise description, other than a job ''Trader.''


    "If you attack her, I will end you, Urist. If she has what she says she has, it could give us what we need to actually win. The PRT and the Guild probably have more information about the S9 than anyone else."


    My ancient dwarven vampire bodyguard smiled at me. "It pleases me that you speak with such strength, Overseer Shayla."


    "I''m still not convinced that you aren''t some fragment of myself, Urist." I shot back.


    He shrugged. The golem was moving rapidly but stopped at the entrance of the tunnel. A pleasant female voice, very 1950''s perfect-mom-ish floated down the tunnel to my ears. "Overseer, this is Dragon. This is a noncombat remote, specifically designed to interface in negotiations. Will you meet with me to trade?"


    "Yes, Dragon. Please come forward. Do you have information on the S9 for me?"


    The slender humanoid shape walked down the tunnel towards me, and Urist stepped between me and it.


    Dragon spoke as she stopped, ten paces away. "This is terribly foolish of you, you know. You''ve been a cape less than a day, and you think you can defeat some of the most powerful capes in existence, who will come for you as a team? By yourself? With a few constructs?"


    I crossed my arms. "Did you come here to give me what I need, or try to keep me from doing what I have to do?"


    Dragon looked at me, and her shoulders slumped a little. "You have so much promise, Overseer Shayla. You''ve been brutally mentally abused. I am sorry for you but I will not stand in your way." She set down two packages, pointing at the larger one first. "One of these is a small generator, gasoline powered. I saw satellite footage of your dwarves hauling all the vehicles into your base, so I know you have a lot of gasoline, but remember you need ventilation."


    Urist snorted, clearly unimpressed with the warning.


    Dragon looked from him to me, standing behind him.


    "Dwarves have been smithing underground using magma and combustibles for a very long time Dragon. They understand the need for ventilation."


    "I... see." Dragon''s remote stared at me for a moment.


    I stared back.


    After a moment, Dragon continued.


    "In the other package is a reasonably powerful laptop computer with charging equipment that can attach to the generator."


    "Thank you, Dragon."


    "I will leave now. If you survive this, we need to talk again. There is also a smartphone in that bag that has one of my numbers. Call me."


    FLUTES!! FLUTES!! MUST TRADE THREE FLUTES!!


    "Get out of my head!" I screamed.


    Dragon said nothing, unmoving, simply staring at me.


    "Not you. I have something screaming in my head telling me I have to trade flutes."


    I walked slowly over to the trade depot, and carefully picked up the three flutes. They were breathtakingly magnificent masterpieces.


    I walked over towards Dragon and Urist growled at me.


    "Shut up, Urist. You have one hand, and it''s holding an axe."


    Urist laughed a belly laugh. "Fine. Better than seeing you whining, I suppose."


    Dragon''s remote accepted the flutes from me, glanced at them for a moment, and then stared at Urist again.


    Urist stared back, and stropped the blade of his axe against the light blue metal plate on his handless left arm.


    I snapped a command at him. "Stop that, Urist. You''re a novelty here. This world has never seen dwarves. Not real ones, and certainly not psychotic vampire legendary axemaster ones."


    The remote stared down at the three flutes in their pig-tail cloth wrappings again for several seconds, then looked at me. "These are real. You made these?"


    I looked at her, confused. "Of course not. I have a legendary metal crafter, a legendary gem cutter, and a legendary gem setter. Please take them. I think my sanity is at risk if I don''t trade three flutes today."


    After a pause, Dragon spoke again. "These are far more valuable than what I have given you. I will see that they are given to your parents if you do not survive."


    I didn''t think the voice in my head would care what Dragon did with them after I traded them. "Do what you want with them, I have twenty three more flutes of similar quality."


    The remote was silent for about half a second before speaking again. "I have something else that I think you will appreciate. I hope that you do not take offense that I believe I know at least something about your powers." The remote placed the three flutes carefully within a compartment in its chest, and a small panel opened up on one of it''s arms. The remote then slowly and carefully plucked a substantial-sized USB storage device out of the open panel and handed it to me.


    I looked up at her quizzically, and she responded. "That''s an offline version of the Dwarf Fortress Wiki. I''ve also provided a few hundred historic saves from the Dwarf Fortress File Depot, and a copy of every single Dwarf Fortress Executable package. I don''t know how your power works, exactly, but I hope those might help."


    I would have kissed her, but she didn''t have a face. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" I gigglescreamed as I did a pirouette with the USB device held tightly against my chest.


    "You''re welcome, Overseer." She paused. "I do not think you are making the right choice here. You can''t win. Not against the S9." She turned and walked away.


    "No, Dragon, you''re wrong." I whispered in a rough voice, trying to restrain my rage, because I knew she meant well. "I might not get them all, but it''s for my sister. I can''t lose."

 Overseer 1.4

    As Dragon''s remote left my range of influence, I gripped the USB storage block with all the saves in it that Dragon had given me, and felt. Willing myself to link with the dwarves on the saves inside. Nothing. Damn, I thought to myself, I need to do some !science! to figure this out. I put the USB storage block in my pocket. The Wiki and the DFFD saves would probably still be useful for ideas, even if I was limited to fortresses I personally created, or whatever.


    I quickly looked over the area for other intruders that I might have missed. I didn''t see any, and relaxed a bit. I little voice in the back of my head poked at my consciousness. That doesn''t mean they aren''t there. There are capes that could sneak or be just as invisible as a goblin snatcher, like that creepy bug girl from Brockton Bay. She can teleport herself from place to place with her bugs, I heard. I wasn''t sure if any of the S9 could teleport or be invisible, so, after a moment''s thought I sent a command to my dwarves. A grid of animal-powered watchtowers were scheduled for creation. Masons rushed for workshops. Glassmakers rushed for... Wait. Glassmakers. S9. Wasn''t there a... Crap. Shatterbird.


    I blew out a long breath of air as I marked everything in the fort made of glass as trash and set up a special glass trash depot. The animal-powered watchtowers were expendable and no dwarves would be around them. Only chickens would be at risk to Shatterbird.


    I set the door in the glass-trash depot to open only with a lever, and that lever was in my lever-room, off my bedroom. I felt a gaggle of my dwarves, inactive, near the human tech storage depot, and sighed. The human tech depot was filled with stuff partly made of clear glass and silicon wafers, and my dwarves were confused. I settled for having a stone enclosure built around it, with another door and another lever controlling that other door. Once again, in my lever room. Most human tech would be off limits until the S9 were dealt with.


    Two dwarves rushed up and started reaching towards my generator and laptop, and I stopped them. "No, these are mine." I explained.


    The two haulers nodded, and ran off to join the work crews moving windows and stone block from underground to outdoor temporary depots for the masons, to improve their building speed on the towers. It would take about thirty minutes to get all thirty towers made and filled with chickens. We had enough glass in stock to finish the watchtowers, and I... Crap. I had set all the glass to trash. I reversed that on enough glass to make the windows for the watchtowers, and my glassmakers started running in different directions, collecting raw green glass.


    I could feel the irritation of my hauler dwarves as they carried things back and forth. Sorry guys. I tried to project the thought across the network, and felt a little begrudging acceptance, and a hint of amusement from the gestalt.


    I picked up the laptop bag and put it over my shoulder, then picked up the generator by its handle. I was sure it had silicon control boards, and maybe glass panels. The laptop would be the same. Silicon and Shatterbird were not a good mix. She had destroyed Dubai, an entire city, with sand.


    Sand. Sand isn''t glass. I checked storage, and found hundreds of bags of sand. I designated all the stored sand as trash and directed the haulers to move it to the glass trash storage area. I set up plans for a little computer closet, and monitored the progress of my dwarves as they Shatterbird-proofed the fortress. I hoped.


    Urist walked behind me until we passed the artifact floodgate set up as the main complex entrance. When the floodgate closed behind us with a solid thump, we both relaxed and walked a few feet before passing through a drizzle of water falling from the ceiling into a chest-deep pool of water. The dwarves had finished the mist generator and dwarven bathtub. No more tracking blood all over the fortress.


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    As I finished wading through the chest-deep dwarven bathtub, which was neck-deep on Urist, I suddenly realized I''d messed up. Badly. I panicked briefly until I realized the laptop was in a waterproof container. The generator, however, was not. I am a TARD, I screamed to myself as I looked down at my right hand. The generator dripped water, mockingly, agreeing with my self-assessment as it hung there, suspended in my grasp.


    Urist said nothing as he nodded to me, curtly, and ran off towards where he was teaching haulers how to dodge and bite, or something.


    Hopefully, it will work after I let it dry off. I stared at the generator, then at the laptop bag. I could only hope Dragon was kind enough to leave me a full charge on the battery.


    Shaking my head, I made my way to my quarters, meeting several craftsdwarves as they left, having finished setting up levers and mechanisms for the two new doors I controlled. I walked to the newly-carved computer room and put the computer on the table. After a few seconds staring down at the generator, silently dripping at me, I shook it a little and set the generator down next to the chair.


    I may have just doomed my fortress by walking through a dwarven bathtub. I thought to myself with macabre humor. That would have been hilarious on the Bay12 forums, but it was crushing here. I almost collapsed then and there, but sniffled and convinced myself that the laptop might be enough, and the generator might dry out and still run.


    I carefully opened the laptop bag, extracted the laptop, and booted it up. I found a real keyboard in the bag, and a real mouse, with a cord. Thank you, Dragon, I muttered to myself. Laptop keyboards and touchpads might be optimal for the size machines they were attached to, but they were still terrible.


    The battery was fully charged, and the machine was optimized for most efficient power utilization. Six hours charge. I started looking through files on the S9, with classification ratings, known tactics, psychological profiles. I summoned Urist. It would be far easier to show him and let him read it all. I felt his irritation at being summoned away from training recruits, but I knew that when he saw the information I had here, he would immediately be very happy, or at least less irritated.


    As I was waiting for Urist to arrive, kneading my forehead with my fingers, I felt something rough and wet brush my ankle. I jerked my foot away in surprise as I looked down.


    A snow-white kitten was looking up at me. "Mew?" After a moment looking at me, it directed its attention at my foot again. I watched with a grin as it wriggled its butt a little in preparation, then leaped and tackled my foot, biting and pawing at my shoelaces. I smiled, then leaned over and scratched its head.


    "You''re a cutie, yes you are," I cooed.


    A powerful feeling came over me, and I felt reality shift slightly. A name inserted itself in my head, and a connection to a tiny mind. Stunned, I looked down. I''d been adopted. "Well, hello, Stalker Ratbane." I said with a grin as I picked up the cutest little kitten in the world.

 Overseer 1.5 - Interlude 1

    "I don''t know." I told them, truthfully.


    A mutter went around the room, and everyone stared at my remote. For the briefest moment I was annoyed. They expect me to know and do so much. A brief instant of contemplation, and I forgave them for annoying me. They expect me to know and do so much because I actually can do almost as much as what they expect of me.


    While the humans around me took their time being confused, I checked on the birdcage, verified the Simurgh''s location, and updated my Endbringer emergence calculations.


    Almost two seconds had passed since the muttering had started before Director Piggot spoke. "Dragon, please show the activities at normal speed. I''d like to see that at the rate it actually happened."


    A brief hiccup of broken logic threatened my thought processes for a fraction of a second, and then I realized that Director Piggot probably hadn''t noticed the 1:1 ratio timestamp at the top right of the screen. I examined my sensory data and verified that her eyes had not ticked up and to the right during the thirty-minute satellite video that I had enhanced with data from the S9 YouTube video and other imagery taken from the public video data of the deceased.


    Half a second later, I responded. "Director Piggot, that satellite imagery was in real-time."


    She stared at me, for a moment, as if she were trying to intimidate me into telling the truth, then shook her head, muttering to herself. I heard what she was muttering, but chose not to take offense, based on her obvious fear and personal history with a similar Master.


    "How accurate is the data?" Another voice. Director Costa-Brown this time.


    I was pleased to receive a meaningful question. "As requested by the PRT, I enhanced the satellite imagery with the S9 YouTube video and other data in order to allow clarity sufficient for reasonably accurate risk assessment. Three smartphones belonging to deceased victims had been recording and uploading to the cloud at the time of the attack, and for up to twenty minutes afterward before they dropped offline. That data was also provided to me by the PRT. I can provide the raw data and processes I used for the enhancement, if you like, but I assure you that it is sufficiently accurate for basic risk assessment."


    Director Piggot spoke again. "But you say you don''t know how dangerous she is, even after you spoke to her."


    "I don''t know how dangerous she is. I don''t know the limits of her power. I don''t know how sane she is. If I told you otherwise, I would be lying. I will play the video again in slow motion, one quarter speed if you like."


    "Please do." Director Piggot replied.


    I directed almost all of my processing power towards useful activities as I began playing back the enhanced recording again.


    "Pause, please." Director Costa-Brown requested.


    I paused, and the director requested a reverse of two seconds.


    "Crawler said he ripped the arm off one of the constructs, and it started using the arm as a weapon. It matches the imagery, but is there real data other than his statement to verify it?"


    "Yes, Director. One of the smartphones of the deceased was at an angle that allowed it to see a one-armed construct running towards Crawler, waving its arm over its head with the other arm, like a club." I showed the relevant video snippet on screen.


    There was a mutter from the participants of the meeting. I heard a lot of different comments that seemed to indicate people were equating her with Nilbog. That was expected, but unfounded. Not entirely out of the question, but not certain either.


    I needed to defuse the fear a bit, redirect the emotions. "I would like to point out the extreme mental stress Overseer was under at the time of her trigger. You can see here that Bonesaw and Jack Slash were taunting her with the corpse of her sister. She had already, apparently, mentally collapsed once before that, and Jack Slash brought her a little out of that fugue state just to prod at her again."


    An angry mutter of agreement went around the room, anger at the S9, which was what I had been trying to generate. I wanted to give Overseer at least the benefit of the doubt.


    Director Armstrong spoke up. "She threatened to kill the response team if you brought her parents to her though, wouldn''t a person so badly broken by what the S9 did to her want comfort desperately enough to take a risk to get it?"


    "No. Not necessarily." This time it was Legend speaking. "Think about it. The PRT were telling her that they were bringing her parents to her, and we heard Jack Slash say he was coming back. She''s clearly unstable and obviously in great mental pain, but she was situationally aware enough to recognize that the PRT were indirectly threatening the lives of her parents. I can''t say that my reaction would have been a great deal different. I would like to think I wouldn''t have threatened to kill people if I had been in her situation, but I''m not so sure I wouldn''t. Threaten someone''s loved ones, even indirectly, and you can start to see the animal come out. Especially after severe mental trauma."


    Unwilling to give up, Director Armstrong tried again. "She refused help though. We could have sent people in to help her. Not just mentally, but maybe even people and equipment. An opportunity to help defeat the S9? I think we could make a good case for helping her. But not after those threats. Not with the displays of irrationality."


    "People she could trust? People who had just indirectly threatened her parents? Masters usually trigger in situations where they have no control, and their powers provide a way to let them have control. You expect her to just give it away again?" Legend replied, archly.


    Director Armstrong didn''t respond. There was more thoughtful murmuring.


    Director Piggot spoke up next. "I would like to make sure that people note that Crawler didn''t manage to kill any of the constructs. Crawler. Several of the constructs were struck by him hard enough to fly fifty feet or more through the air and literally dig trenches in the ground, but they got back up and kept fighting. One of them attacked Siberian. Head on, and survived. Siberian kicked the axe out of that one''s hand and the axe did not break. I have never seen video of Siberian hitting anything and it not breaking." She was sweating. "I''m sorry. I must excuse myself."


    Director Costa-Brown reached up and touched her temple with one hand, frowning.


    I could easily tell that Director Piggot was fully in control of what she was doing. She was highly stressed, but her actions were calculated. They always were. Few humans had the sheer willpower of Emily Piggot. Commendable at times, maddening more often. Everyone in the room knew about what had happened to her during the Nilbog fiasco, and she was playing it for all it was worth. She wanted to quarantine Overseer like Nilbog had been quarantined.


    As Director Piggot left the room, she was watched closely, silently by almost everyone. I was glad to note that most of them had signs of cynicism mixed in with signs of concerns. Her ploy had been recognized by most present. The people in this room played ''the game'' at high levels of wordplay and meaning. Still, she had still made a very potent comment. Individually, Overseer''s constructs were far tougher and more capable than a lot of low tier capes.


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    Piggot had brought an expert on bunker fortifications with her as a consultant, Thomas Calvert. He wasn''t the only consultant in the room, but his company specialized in Endbringer bunker systems. Nothing would keep an Endbringer out of a bunker, but bunkers could save people from side-effects. Sometimes. His company''s bunkers had saved millions of lives. He stood and spoke after the door closed. "I normally would not speak, but I was one of the two PRT survivors of the Nilbog incident." He nodded at the door, as if anyone would forget that the other had just walked out. "Despite that, I would like to point out something else. Forty-three coffins were carried from underground, and the remains from every victim were put in those coffins. Extremely realistic images of what each victim would have looked like when alive and resting peacefully in sleep were carved into the top of each coffin, as shown in the images collected by the response team. We didn''t retrieve the coffins or remains, yet, but every image matched someone who was there, based on Dragon''s analysis of records. Whatever else, Overseer respects the dead. That says a lot to me."


    After several seconds in which a lot of people looked long and hard at Calvert, there was more muttering and then sounds of agreement. I was confident that Director Piggot would certainly need her blood pressure medicine when she reviewed the meeting minutes. I set an alarm on the meeting files to alert me when she viewed them, so I could monitor her health.


    After the muttering reduced in volume slightly, Calvert started speaking again. "Overseer has huge potential. She hasn''t done anything yet to make her an enemy, only made threats which I could imagine coming from anyone who had been pushed that hard." He looked around before seating himself, judging the reactions of others, and seemed satisfied.


    Director Costa-Brown seemed to be in agreement with Calvert, nodding before she stood. "Also note how quickly the work was performed. At one point there were eighty constructs on the surface. The coffins were brought out, the corpses sorted, the images carved, in eleven minutes." She paused, and looked at the others. "While the victims were being provided with personalized coffins, and for the next nine minutes after that, thirty acres of mixed pine and hardwood forest were cut, leaving only immature trees. Twenty-seven vehicles were carried underground, including a park services water truck. That water truck would have weighed roughly twelve thousand pounds without water in it. The construct that retrieved that truck did not drag it. It picked up the truck and carried it. Slowly, but it carried it. All of the cut trees were hauled underground within minutes. Overseer and her constructs not only have great potential for ground troops, but they work very, very fast. I''d like to get that on our side if possible."


    Legend nodded. "Cleaning up after Endbringer attacks with a Master cape like Overseer would be incredible, even if all they are good for is demolition."


    He had provided a perfect time for me to bring out my strongest argument. "I have five pieces of evidence that I have been waiting to display, for an appropriate time." I began.


    That got everyone''s attention on me again, so I continued, first displaying a close-up image of the one-handed construct in light blue armor, pointing at the axe with my laser pointer. "This is Urist, apparently a bodyguard of sorts. Urist is the construct that attacked Siberian. The axe he is carrying is undamaged. The blade is made of a material I do not recognize."


    There was muttering around the world as it sunk in what it meant that Dragon did not recognize a material.


    "Now, next," I continued, "is this strange series of kiosks and booths. It looks in many ways to be much like a series of stalls at a flea market. However, it is made entirely of obsidian, cut to tolerances that are frankly incredible. Obsidian is not a material I use frequently, but I know I would need some study time to duplicate this simple structure."


    More muttering. Time to set the hook, as a human fisherman might say. "Lastly, because it certainly crossed my mind that she might have a shaker power like Labyrinth, to allow her to create physical items that were not strictly ''real'', I analyzed these when they were handed to me, and asked Armsmaster to do the same to verify behind me. They are real." I opened the carrying case on the table beside me and beckoned for an assistant, directing them to take them to each participant for viewing.


    "If you choose to remove the instruments from their padding, please do so carefully. They are appraised at between one point six and four point three million dollars each. They are in perfect tune. I would have difficulty matching this construction without a great deal of study. They are not tinker tech, they are three of the finest, most richly decorated flutes on the planet. If you can play the flute, feel free to do so, if you like. There are disinfectant swabs inside the case as well."


    As the flutes made the rounds, only Legend picked one up reverently, and played it, a quick little jig, only a few notes. He used the disinfectant and placed instrument back into its padding carefully.


    After the flutes were presented for viewing to all the directors and the triumvirate, I concluded my statements. "I said before that I did not know if Overseer was dangerous enough to try to quarantine or kill. I stand behind that statement. She is clearly unstable at the moment. I am also strongly of the opinion that she is too potentially valuable to risk making an enemy of her." I paused. "I am fairly certain that the S9 will end up killing her, or she will kill herself trying to kill them. That is highly unfortunate, however, it is conceivable that she might drive them off; you have all seen what her constructs can do, and the S9 have rarely ever engaged in underground operations. Overseer seems quite at home there."


    Director Costa-Brown requested a vote, and it was decided that no actions would take place until after satellite data showed that the S9 had entered and left Overseer''s facility, or two days had passed. There was talk of sending help whether Overseer wanted it or not, because an opportunity to take the fight to the S9 was a rare thing, but it was decided that in her state of mind, Overseer couldn''t properly recognize allies, and might turn on anyone.


    After the vote, Eidolon, who had said nothing during the entire meeting, came up to me and quietly asked. "How deep will they have to dig to reach magma under the park?"

 Overseer 1.6

    "You called, Overseer?"


    Urist''s voice was so deep, it reminded me of Lurch from the Adams Family. I imagined them standing side by side, and could barely restrain a little giggle. I scratched Stalker behind the ears, trying to hide my amusement. When I had myself under control, I spoke again. "Urist, I am not a fighter. I know I''m not. I always counted on traps more than military dwarves to keep the fortress safe."


    He looked at me, and the expression on his face was so obviously ''Tell me something I didn''t already know'' that I almost laughed, again. He clearly read the humor in my expression though, and sighed. "I don''t understand what is funny, Overseer, but I would like to understand why you called me here."


    "I''m sorry, Urist, I wanted you to see the data that was provided to us on the S9, the enemies you fought outside. I do not have the expertise in combat or military matters that you do. I understand capes better, and I know human technology better, but I suspect that you and the others will be better able to create an effective defense if you have the most complete data possible. This is that data."


    Urist looked at the laptop computer, staring for a moment. "One page of data? That''s all the device holds, Overseer?"


    "Huh?" I looked at the screen, then it struck me what Urist was seeing from his point of view. "Oh. Sorry. The screen changes, Urist, in response to input." I thought for a moment. "Like pulling a lever changes the state of a mechanism. Imagine that there are millions of tiny levers inside the machine. The screen is thousands of dots, and the levers inside the machine change the colors of the dots, changing the appearance of the screen, based on the input from the mouse," I pointed at the mouse, "and the keyboard," I pointed at the keyboard.


    I carefully dropped Stalker to the floor and stood, motioning for Urist to sit.


    Urist looked puzzled, but was mumbling to himself. "Millions of levers? Millions?" He looked at me with an incredulous near-glare.


    My temper frayed a little bit at his disbelief, and I snapped at him. "Blood Feud, Urist. I have not forgotten. There is no subterfuge or game-playing here. Human technology is extremely advanced."


    I felt the connection between us grow stronger for a moment, then fade. Urist''s expression grew more serious, and he nodded, then sat and looked at the computer. The fingers of his one hand traced across various components with delicate grace. "A mouse. I suppose it''s vaguely rat-shaped. The keyboard doesn''t seem to have any resemblance to keys though."


    "It''s far too complicated to explain easily, Urist. You can use it without understanding it. Most humans know less about computers than me, and use them just fine."


    "Teach me to use it then. This first page of data promises a great deal." He was looking at the table of contents, known abilities of the living S9 members.


    "First, though I know you will be careful, I need you to avoid touching the screen. It is the most fragile part of the computer."


    He nodded slowly, looking back at me a little. "That makes sense, it''s made of levers that are made of light."


    "Ah, not exactly, but close enough." I coughed. "Sorry. Back on track. How to use it, not how it works. First, your fingers are simply too big to use the keyboard, so you will need to use only the mouse. It is rather fragile, but I saw the care you were using just now, so I will not warn you to be gentle with it. You seem to already understand that."


    Urist shrugged. "It''s an unknown machine, extremely strange, and you say it''s made of millions of levers. That means it''s very fragile. It certainly doesn''t smell like adamantite."


    "OK. If you carefully move the mouse across the surface, like so," I moved the mouse and pointed to the pointer on the screen with my other hand. "it will change the location of the mouse pointer. A lot like using a stick to point at diagrams on an engraving."


    Ten minutes later, Urist was an expert mouse-user, navigating through PowerPoint presentations like a pro. Well, sort of. Despite his complete lack of computing experience it was scary how fast he scanned the documents and his retention was frankly incredible. When I had challenged him about how fast he was reading, he didn''t even look away from the screen. "I''m over a thousand years old, Overseer. Even with the, ah, benefits I have due to my nature, you don''t get that old if you aren''t at least moderately intelligent. I''ve been reading for a very, very long time. I have memory tricks I use to read very fast, upside down, and in mirrored reflections. All sorts of things. Information is pretty critical for me. Keeps me alive." He paused. "Well, you know what I mean."


    Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "You fought two forgotten beasts for a sock! How was that intelligent?"


    He looked up at me and grinned. "It was a good sock. I wanted it back."


    I stared at him for a moment, then laughed, and turned towards my bed to take a nap while he finished reading the two hundred or so pages of tightly-packed data about the S9. Then I remembered what Urist was, and it struck me. Being in the same room alone with him was very not safe. Especially if I was asleep. I turned back towards him, remaining standing.


    "Humans taste foul, by the way. Just to let you know. Barely palatable at all." I saw his eyes looking at me in the reflection of the laptop''s monitor. "Ulok was dying. He satisfied my needs for at least a season or two."


    "I... see." This, for some reason did not make me feel safe.  Imagine that.


    Urist shrugged. "I want to stay alive, Overseer. I''m in a very strange place right now, and you know more about the place than I do." He paused. "I''m fairly confident that I wasn''t even real before you pulled us out of our world, based on how strangely limited our knowledge was. I refuse to believe that Dwarfkind, if we had been real, could have missed something like shelves. That would be like us somehow not realizing that round things roll better."


    I floundered while trying to decide how to respond to that. "I, uh..."


    "You don''t need to hide anything, Overseer." Urist spoke calmly. "I watched you when you summoned the non-warriors and the supplies here. Somehow you drew us out of that pendant you wear, I think. Like sketching characters from a book. I can feel a little bit of what happens in your mind, through our link. If I exert myself a little, I can widen that link a little."


    He''s very likely going to be right up front when the S9 comes, the first to die if I don''t do this right. He deserves the truth. "You were all part of a game, Urist. Like a book, yes, a book with rules. Played on a machine a lot like the one you are reading on now. The most complex game ever created, but not complex enough to truly be alive and react realistically with the world."


    Urist stopped reading and turned to me. "We have holes. Gaping holes. We''re filling them, gaps in knowledge. Innovation. Are we dwarves really alive? What happens if you die"


    I stared at him. Metaphysical questions from a Dwarf. "I don''t know, Urist. Dwarves bleed here too. You reproduce. There was a child born here. But I don''t know. If I die, you might simply disappear. Or maybe if I die, nothing will happen to you and Dwarves and Humans will coexist in this world from that point on. I don''t know."


    Urist snorted, and turned back to the computer screen, raising his handless left arm in the air. "You don''t even know if this world that I am in now is real, do you? Perhaps you are a construct in some greater being''s machine of millions of levers?"


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    I swallowed. This was getting deep. "Urist, I''ll be honest with you, if you''re thinking like that, I''m pretty sure you''re actually alive." I remembered what he had just said. "Or, at least as alive as I am, anyway. In a certain sense, with the whole undead thing."


    Urist clicked the mouse and advanced to the next page, and he started speaking again. "So let us examine this reluctance of yours to sleep in my presence. We cannot rule out that you are what keeps me alive. Not definitively. If I inexplicably become hungry far sooner than I should, for some reason, do I risk my own existence for an awful-tasting meal or do I do find some worthless peon hauler in a dark corner somewhere and have a tasty snack that has no chance of ending my existence?"


    I couldn''t put any holes in that. Even if human blood tasted good, the logic still held. Still. Psychotic dwarven vampire legendary axeman in my bedroom. Not Sleeping. "I see your point, Urist. Please forgive me if I am still unable to sleep in your presence."


    I could see him smile in the reflection of the screen. "No offense taken. I accept your fear of me as a compliment."


    Scary dwarf in my bedroom. I shivered and sat on my bed. "You''re nearly finished anyway, aren''t you? You''ve been reading very quickly."


    "Yes. Unless there are other documents?"


    "Not that I saw. Wait. There is documentation of other designs of other fortresses that might be useful for defense as we extend the fort downwards. That might be something useful for you to know?"


    Urist shook his head. "Get one of the legendary mechanics in here. Let them read the other documents, then send them to me. Working together as two experts, we will be better able to quickly exchange ideas in a planning session. You are welcome to attend the planning session as well. I would suggest Adra Greensiphon. She is very intelligent and will probably be nearly as fast as me to learn about this machine, and how to use it. She will also likely be able to decipher plans and documents related to her profession nearly as fast as I read these."


    I summoned Adra as Urist continued clicking page after page. Before Adra arrived, Urist stood. "This information is very troubling. The one called ''Siberian'' has immense, unbelievable power, and can share physical invulnerability by touch."


    "Yes, she''s invulnerable. We''re probably going to have to just try to hide from her. I don''t think any of them have special senses that will let them track me unerringly. If they split up to try to chase me down in the 3D maze I''m having the miners create, then I should be able to direct the military to the ones that are killable. It''s a matter of balancing how many traps there are against how badly they want to catch me. I don''t want them to catch me, clearly, but I don''t want to be too safe either, or they might not split up, so they can be killed."


    Urist scrubbed his jaw, looking at me. "You understand that fairly well. Yes. Too many traps and they all stay with the invulnerable one. Too few traps, and you might have to do a lot more running around before you can get them into a trap."


    "Crawler might separate. He''s very tough." I pointed out.


    As he walked towards the door leading out of my quarters, Urist agreed. "True. Let''s discuss this later though, after Adra reviews the other data you have. I need to start pushing what I''ve learned to the rest of the military, so everyone will have the information. Most of these humans will die quickly if caught off guard, I think." He paused. "This S9 group. They are all combat veterans. Hunters. Killers. Like me. I recognize this, and I will make sure we won''t underestimate them, even if they split up from the invulnerable one."


    Adra arrived a minute or so after Urist left. I taught her how to use the mouse, then panicked when I realized that the USB device Dragon gave me had been in my pocket when I walked through the Dwarven bath. A quick inspection revealed that the device claimed to be waterproof, and it connected and data was properly visible. I immediately copied everything from Dragon''s USB to the laptop, and then disconnected the USB device, putting it on a table in my quarters to make sure it dried out fully.


    After I showed Adra how to navigate the Wiki, she started plowing through content.


    I didn''t even think about what her reaction might be to the non-technical parts of the Wiki until she called me over. "Overseer. The rumor has been going around that we weren''t really real before. Is this really what we were? A game?"


    Didn''t I just have this conversation? I sighed to myself. "Yes. It''s true. Right now though? I don''t know. You seem to be as real as I am."


    Adra looked at me for a minute with very serious eyes, then turned back to the screen. "Thank you, Overseer."


    I went back to my personal storage cabinet and got a mug, then walked into my dining area and scooped a mug of beer out of the barrel in my private drink depot. I drank down the mug and filled another, then grabbed one of the prepared meals and walked back to my bed with it.


    As I sat on the edge of my bed, Adra giggled. A very deep, throaty giggle that startled me, but it was definitely a giggle. "There are some very good ideas in here. Most of them are simple and obvious, but I really like the goblin grinder. We had smasher bridges, collapsing floors, and obsidian mixers, but mostly magma baths. Was that your preference, or was there another reason?"


    I was relieved. "You aren''t going to ask more about whether you are real or not?"


    "I feel real. I have a child that feels real. I''ll just act like I''m real and not worry about it, if that''s OK?" She looked at me, clearly concerned, obviously not wanting to discuss it any further.


    I nodded. "Fine by me."


    Adra let out a sigh of relief. "Good. Less to distract me. What about the traps?"


    "Well, I''ve always liked using magma. Something about melting away all the useless bits of goblins and leaving behind their metallic equipment is just, well, elegant."


    With a grin, Adra pointed at the screen. "I agree. Whoever wrote this understands both of us, Overseer. At least when it comes to enemies."


    I looked at where she was pointing. At the bottom of the entry for Magma was a quote ''Magma is very well known for being the perfect solution to any problem encountered by dwarves.''


    We both laughed, but I wasn''t sure we were laughing about the same thing. It was still relaxing.


    I walked back to the bed and sat again and Adra continued paging through links of the offline wiki.


    Turning my attention to the food in my lap, I took a deep sniff, holding it under my nose to try to identify it - it smelled delicious. I''d never smelled anything like it. I took a tiny taste and it tasted very good. Stalker chose that moment to jump up on the bed next to where I was sitting, and cuddled next to my leg. I scratched him absently on his back, and he purred loudly.


    Adra sniffed the air. "Do you have any more of that, Overseer? I haven''t had a good cat roast in a long time."


    My stomach did a double-flop. I gulped and looked down at Stalker, trying to keep down the beer I had drunk on an empty stomach. I spoke carefully while I handed Adra the plate, trying to control my gorge. "I''m not sure, Adra. Ah, you can have this. I''ll... go find something else."

 Overseer 1.7

    Overseer 1.7


    I checked on the status of my dwarves, looking for any who were in distress before going to sleep. One of the masons had walled herself into a place she couldn''t get out of. She was hungry and thirsty. I designated a wall segment for deconstruction, and she tore through it in seconds, running for the drink depot.


    The magma cisterns were still empty. Why?


    I checked on Iton, and Brok who were digging the exploration shaft in such a way that it was convertible into a pump stack. I had assigned them to keep digging down till they found magma.


    I found them, but they were incredibly far away. Miles away, straight down. And they were both hungry and thirsty. Dwarves could move quickly, but I could see that Iton and Bron were in bad shape, moving slowly back up the shaft that went... Damn. Ten miles down?


    This was a panic moment. Iton was another of the original fortress dwarves. He had always been a miner. Nothing else. I always needed something dug, and Iton wasn''t a very social dwarf. Even though he was not very social, he did take breaks, and been around a long time. He knew everyone, and everyone knew him. A lot like Tikon. And he was going to die. He was too far away from the nearest food and drink depot to survive the return trip.


    Aaaargh! I do NOT need a tantrum spiral now! I reached into my cabinet next to the bed for my mug and threw it with all my might across the room. It smashed against the wall with a satisfying crack, breaking. I smiled in satisfaction.


    I need a drink. Badly. I stood up off the edge of the bed and reached into my cabinet for my mug so I could go get a beer. The mug was gone. I turned my head, and saw the shattered masterpiece jade mug set with opals and rubies laying in pieces. I could feel Goduk, the legendary stonecrafter who had made the mug growing furious at the destruction of one of his eleven thousand masterpieces. I pushed an apology to him over the weakening connection between us and asked him to please provide me with a dozen more. Sullenly, he agreed. I inspected his living space, and discovered it to be rather plain. I had an artifact cabinet moved from artifact storage to his room. He detected the change immediately and went running back to his room to meet his new furniture as the hauler ran to bring it to his quarters.


    My shoulder sagged. Iton and Brok wouldn''t be that easy to save. They were too far away.


    BEER NOW!


    I didn''t want a beer, I didn''t want alcohol to soften my mind. But I didn''t need the voice in my head screaming for beer either.


    I stormed into my eating area, opened a keg and stuck my head inside, taking two deep swallows before coming back up for air.


    That... wasn''t beer, I realized. My nose, mouth, throat and eyes burned. My head was cold. I had to close my eyes tightly to keep the liquid out of them. After a moment''s panic, thinking the dwarves might have put lye in my drink storage, I recognized what I had just drunk. Grandpa used to make moonshine. I kept my eyes tightly closed and rubbed my face and head with my shirt. The cold of the evaporating alcohol went away after a few seconds.


    I opened my eyes and looked at the top of the barrel. ''Sewer Brew''


    I licked my lips. It was pretty good, actually.


    Almost pure alcohol. In my hair. All the oils and conditioners gone. My ''do was certainly ruined at that point, I realized. I definitely need to teach a couple dwarves how to do cornrows. The way they do their hair, I bet some of them would actually like it.


    Damn. I walked over to the food depot and checked very carefully, examining every meal for contents. I chose a meal of beer-roasted duck with prickle berries, and carried the plate over to the table. As I walked over to the table, I staggered a bit.


    It dawned on me then. Oh, hell. How much did I drink? Two big gulps? That''s about what, four shots of moonshine? Equivalent to nine or ten shots of vodka? On an empty stomach?


    I considered making myself puke to purge the alcohol, but something inside me rejected that idea. I couldn''t even make myself try, so I sat down and started eating the meal quickly, hoping it would help absorb the alcohol in my stomach.


    I started to cry a little bit. Iton had been the dwarf that first struck the earth for me here. He had been the first to strike the earth in the fortress save well. I was watching both Iton and Brock lumbering weakly up the stairs next to the pump stack shaft, still miles below. I would watch him die, and then feel it as every dwarf in the fortress would suffer a happiness hit, not to mention me. Still, Iton was one of the strongest dwarves in the fortress, possibly stronger than Urist even, but with no military training. And dwarves gave one hundred percent of everything they could give until they died. He might make it, I lied to myself.


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    Iton and Brok would never give up, but they wouldn''t survive the trip back to the fortress. I tried to resign myself to their death, but I couldn''t even do that.


    "Damnit!" I screamed at the top of my voice, slashing my arm across the table, the half-eaten meal splattering all over the place.


    I staggered to my feet, and put my hands on the pendant, checking, hoping that I had missed something, any food, any drink in the old fortress. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I realized I had left nothing. There was nothing there. No way to save Iton and Brok. I had stripped the old fortress place bare of everything made by dwarves.


    The alcohol I had drunk was hitting me harder, and I staggered sideways to the wall while trying to remain standing as the world started to spin. Falling to my knees, I crawled across the floor aimlessly, mind blank momentarily.


    My head bumped against a barrel. I was next to the little depot where my personal food and drink were stored. I bumped against the barrel with my head. Then I bumped it again. No particular reason, I just thought it was funny to bump my head against the barrel. I laughed for a few seconds, then burped. The alcohol was taking over. At not much more than a hundred pounds and five-foot-three there wasn''t a lot of me to absorb four shots of moonshine. One shot was enough to buzz me hard, two would make my vision swim. I had never tried three. I hoped four wouldn''t kill me.


    I fell on my side, then rolled to my back, casting my mind down to Iton and Brok, and sending a feeling of apology to them, for failing them. They did not seem angry, only resigned. And hungry. And thirsty. And tired.


    I flopped my arms, smacking barrels and food containers randomly whole laughing out loud. I could save them with the food I have right here. But I get to watch them die instead. Some master I am, allowing my creations, my wards, my dwarves to die because of stupidity.


    I designated food and drink depots and beds in tiny rooms, one every half mile, next to the shaft. I could at least prevent the problem from happening again. Hauler dwarves charged down the stairs carrying food, drink, and beds. They wouldn''t make it in time to save Iton and Brok.


    In my alcohol-stupor, I grabbed my pendant. I had specifically rejected the idea of trying this before, because I had no idea what it would do, but I no longer cared.


    I concentrated on a meal container, and wished it back into my saved game fortress, hoping that my brain wouldn''t explode, or I wouldn''t convert the mass of the meal into energy, or whatever. I really didn''t care at this point.


    The food disappeared. I was still alive. My muddled thoughts insisted that I could feel the food in the saved game.


    I would have jumped for joy if I hadn''t been drooling drunk, laying on the stone floor on my back, with my left hand gripping the pendant and my right waving a chicken wing in victory.


    "Yesh!" I muttered in satisfaction, brandishing my tasty chicken wing again. When did I find a chicken wing? I quickly sent a barrel of drink and more meal containers into the fortress save, and then brought them back out again, on the landing above Iton and Brok, miles below.


    As the massive headache spiked through my skull, driving away consciousness, I felt my two dehydrated, starving miners register surprise before immediately beginning to eat and drink what I had sent them. They then collapsed into sleep on the stairwell.


    After my dwarves were safe, I charged into the blackness to battle whatever was attacking my brain, armed with my trusty vorpal chickenwing. Nothing could defeat me now!

 Overseer 1.8

    I woke up trying to scream, but I couldn''t scream, because my body was immobile. I wasn''t breathing. I was in my bed, and didn''t remember getting there. There were two dwarves leaning over me, and they were both unmoving.


    All of that was meaningless, because somewhere, far overhead, a flying forgotten beast had just crossed into my sphere of influence.


    Simurgh has arrived. A gigantic humanoid with a multitude of wings. Fear her corrupting voice!


    In my mind, I stared at the beast overhead and began gibbering. Simurgh! Aaaah! I ordered my noncombat dwarves away from the surface. I Activated the military and sent lever-operators into specially prepared rooms with food, drink, and beds.


    I don''t have any magma yet!


    I looked to see where Iton and Brok were in their digging, and discovered they had finally finished the shaft and carefully broken through to magma. They were currently fleeing up the stairwell as the pressurized magma began to rise. Iton had some fairly severe burns from lava splatter, but nothing that would slow him down. Brok was uninjured.


    Stunned a moment, I stared at the magma. Pressurized magma? Volcano. Iton and Brok just created a volcano, and it''s going to erupt through the fortress. Fifty miles outside Brockton Bay. I''d love to see people''s reaction to that, but I suspect I''ll be too carbonized to appreciate it if I can''t control it.


    The magma had risen up the pump stack shaft by two miles while I slept. I quickly designated a storage cistern and floodgate system with pressure plates near the bottom of the completed pump stack, a mile or so below me, requiring all construction to be made with magma-proof materials.


    I checked to make sure all legendary mechanics and masons were taken off other jobs, and put on the volcano cap job.


    Volcano from below, and Simurgh from above. No pressure.


    I tried to laugh when I realized I''d punned accidentally, but I was still in alert state, so I was immobile, only my mind active.


    While I flailed mentally about, trying to make certain I had done everything possible to prevent the fortress from being cooked in a volcano while getting my dwarves all deep, deep underground, hoping against hope that the Simurgh would just fly overhead and be gone, I struggled to maintain enough control to think.


    Thinking suddenly became much harder. Like everything else in my sphere of influence that I was aware of, I had a thin thread connecting me to The Simurgh, just barely enough to track it. I felt that connection growing stronger, in much the same way that Urist would do when he wanted a connection with me.


    I fought it, trying to narrow the connection, sever it, make it go away. I tried to forget The Simurgh was above me, hoping that would make her connection vanish. None of it worked. Trying to forget that the most dangerous Endbringer was following a manifestation of your power into your head makes it very hard to pretend they don''t exist.


    As I did everything in my power to break the connection, the thread got stronger, rapidly. I started to hear a strange song in the background, through my connection and if I could have squealed and pissed my pants while in alert state, it would have happened.


    The widening connection reached me with far more power than any of Urist''s prior connections. When the wider tethering finished attaching itself to my gibbering mind like a leech, I felt a cold presence entering my mind, poking and prodding. The vastness behind that connection was examining my mind clinically but casually, like an indifferent but diligent high school student poking at the corpse of a dead frog in biology class. An image of Dr. Frankenstein flew through my mind, and I felt the massive intelligence examine that thought and discard it. There was a sense of curiosity and satisfaction in the mind that dwarfed mine, and I tried to make myself as small as possible. Being boring and small might make the immense mind lose interest and leave me alone, I hoped. After a very short time being aware of frighteningly attractive singing accompanied by a sense of my mind being paged through like a rolodex, there was a sense of impatience and even a touch of respect in the mind.


    I knew what it wanted me to do, somehow, and I immediately did it, ending the alert state.


    The connection between us snapped nearly shut, back to the bare minimum connection of inanimate objects and non-citizens. Three hundred kilometers overhead, The Simurgh slightly shifted its orbit.


    The two dwarves standing over me started moving again, talking to one another.


    "It''s almost like she had a bad reaction to alcohol. I''m not quite sure what to make of it. I''ve heard of humans having no constitution to speak of, but I never imagined our Overseer would be so..."


    The listening dwarf had been looking down at me as I opened my eyes. He punched the speaker in the shoulder with a solid, meaty thump. "She''s awake. Shut up."


    The speaker looked down at me, a little frightened. I ignored them both as I concentrated all my attention on the being far, far overhead. Desperately hoping that it was going to do what I hoped it was going to do.


    About five seconds later, it did, disappearing out of my sphere of influence.


    The real world became slightly more important, and I started to shudder violently, uncontrollably. All the fear I''d experienced and tried to repress with the Simurgh overhead, poking into my mind, doing who knows what. It all hit me then.


    While my body reacted to mind-spasming terror, the two dwarven doctors restrained me. At the core of my mind, I could feel something panic and wonder how having the Simurgh paging through my mind with a direct connection through my power during Alert time counted against Simurgh exposure time. I had no way of knowing. I damn sure had no way of finding out, because there was no way in hell I was going to tell anyone that Simurgh and I had just had a little direct mind-to-mind connection. The rest of the world would probably cheer and buy peanuts while rooting for the S9 if anyone found out about it.


    It was another reason to doubt myself. Exactly what I didn''t need.


    When my body allowed me control over it again, I demanded to be carried to a mist generator and left alone with a bar of soap. I cleaned my fouled self and my fouled clothing, only collapsing five or six times in abject terror as memories of the mental connection scorched through my mind, time after time.


    I felt Urist''s annoyance in my mind as he tried to chide me for fear and I opened a wide channel to him, forcing what I knew about the Simurgh into his mind, and the fact that it had just fucking noticed me, and connected to me. After I felt a little terror and a lot of apology from him, I reduced our connection back to a trickle.


    I realized I''d just forced open a connection to Urist and actually transmitted knowledge directly. I cautiously tried it with other dwarves, and could not widen connections to them. How did I do that?


    No amount of trying let me open a wider connection to other dwarves. I had probably only been able to do it with Urist because he was trying to widen it a bit from his end.


    My mind provided a more terrifying possibility. Maybe The Simurgh did a little reprogramming while it was poking around, singing tunes in my head. After that thought ran screaming through my mind in mad panic, my body found something else in my bladder to soil myself with. Numbly, I started washing myself again after I picked myself off my ass a few seconds later.


    When I finally finished washing, I had no idea how much time had passed, but the bar of soap was gone, and my fingers looked like raisins. I was cold and shivering violently on my knees, staring at my hands thoughtlessly. I could see at least ten dwarves watching me from a safe distance. I could feel their unhappiness, their worry.


    I forced myself to my feet, and raised my mouth to the water overhead, gulping. I''d had nothing to drink but alcohol in I didn''t remember how long. No more than a day, I knew, but I had no real sense of time without the sun. I hadn''t figured out how dwarves measured time, or my mind simply couldn''t emulate it like the ability to see in the dark. Or whatever. It didn''t matter.


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    I put my clothes back on, and snapped out to the nearest dwarf. "Take me somewhere where there is a heat source that will allow me to dry off quickly without injuring myself, but not be in anyone''s way. Have my armor brought to me at that location."


    I mentally created a request for a clean well to be created directly off my quarters, and a soap depot. Despite my immensely heightened desire for alcohol, I needed water for drinking and washing. I was still human, mostly. I hoped. My body seemed to be, anyway.


    I followed my guide to a nearby kitchen and sat next to a stove on a chair taken from a nearby furniture depot. I stared at the cook, and warned them. "Do not cook with any meat while I am here. After I leave, do what you wish."


    The cook nodded carefully, and tiptoed off with a large cauldron towards another kitchen at the far side of the food processing area, stopping by the butcher shops on the way. I saw butchers carefully wrap meat in untanned leather and leave their shops.


    The cook returned with vegetables of various sorts and began cooking, carefully not watching me.


    "I''m sorry." I apologized to the cook, and passed the apology to all of my dwarves over the link. I could feel most of them accepting the apologetic offering with a little confusion. I could also feel some anger coming back to me from Urist and others of like mind to him. I stomped their anger flat, refusing to be intimidated, and tried to push a thought across the network, that apology isn''t weakness, it''s acknowledgement of wrongdoing or a mistake. I felt a reverberation of respect still mixed with a little suspicion coming back from my dwarves. That was good enough. I''d just subjected the whole fortress to my absolute terror after Simurgh, no doubt they had been shocked.


    I really need to control myself better, I thought to myself. I need something to center myself.


    An armorer arrived, with light under leathers, and my adamantite plate armor to wear over it. As promised, it fit perfectly. Too damn perfectly. I didn''t have a mirror to check, but I was certain the pants fit snugly enough to show a cameltoe. Everything fit me like a second skin.


    "Does it have to be this tight?" I asked the armorer.


    She looked up at me, and said simply, "Yes."


    "Why?" I asked, curiously.


    "Otherwise the metal armor you wear over it would chafe you." Was the response.


    I shrugged and accepted the expert opinion of the armorer. The light blue armor that was being fitted to me certainly wouldn''t offend my sense of modesty. The under leathers were basically armor underwear, like spandex pants, but made of leather.


    A couple minutes later, I was fully armored, with gauntlets hanging from my left hip, a kite shield over my back, and a helm handing from my right hip. The leathers and the armor put together did not weigh much more than my old clothes. The adamantite plate was almost as thin as tinfoil, but I couldn''t even make it flex with all my strength. Every piece was masterwork class; the jointing was so excellently done that I could move in it almost like I wasn''t even wearing it.


    As the armorer was finishing up her final inspections of the fit, and explaining to me how to release the shield and remove and put the armor back on myself, I noticed a small child behind her, peering up at me.


    I knew already, of course, but I asked anyway. "Hello young one, what is your name?"


    The little dwarf, not much more than three feet tall and no more than twice my weight, ducked back behind her mother, hiding herself shyly. She had both arms around her mother''s trunklike left leg. After a couple moments, she stuck her head back out and looked up at me. "Kylar, Overseer."


    I smiled. "Hello, Kylar. How are you today?"


    "I''m well, Overseer, thank you for asking."


    "What would you say if I told you that I was thinking about creating a school and letting you learn all kinds of math and science that dwarves didn''t know about before?"


    The little female dwarf looked back up at me, clearly confused. "But, Overseer, we already have a school?" Her confusion rapidly left her face, replaced by pure joy. "I went two hours ago and helped! Basic geometry is fun!"


    I stared back down at her, then quickly put a smile on my face. "When did this start?"


    The little girl shrugged. "I don''t know, Overseer. Probably today, since there weren''t books before."


    "I see. Thank you, Kylar. You be good and mind your mother, you hear me?"


    "I will, Overseer, I will!"


    Kylar''s mother, Doko was her name, reached behind herself with a hand the size of a snowshovel and rubbed the youngster''s head. "I''ll hold you to that, Kylar." Doko grinned up at me and winked, then slapped my arm very carefully and said. "Done. If you can survive a battle at all, you will survive it wearing that."


    "Thank you, Doko. I appreciate this." I smiled in real thanks and slapped her on the upper arm, as hard as I could without hurting myself or with exaggerated motions, and she smiled up at me.


    I cast my thoughts out, seeking dwarven children. Normally they would be following their mothers, mostly, until they matured at twelve, but I found that every child over four was in a single small room that had been cut directly off the book storage depot. I had not requested that the room be built, and I certainly had not designated is as a ''school.''


    I was briefly worried that I might have done it without knowing I had, maybe when I had been blind stinking drunk, before I passed out. I quickly scanned the fortress for other anomalies, and found a large number of them. When I examined them, they seemed logical.


    They are learning. Adapting. As Urist said, they are innovating and filling gaps in their knowledge. Am I becoming redundant here?


    It dawned on me that if I was becoming redundant here, that it was a good thing, not a bad thing.


    A few minutes and a wild ride in a mine cart later, I walked into the classroom with the children and saw that every child in the fortress had their own learning station, a personal workshop for every child.


    Every workstation was laden with books. Every student present was copying a book open next to them into a blank book at bewildering speeds. Not as fast as a modern office laser printer, but at least a page or two per minute. As I watched, open-mouthed, three students approached Tikon at the front of the class. As they spoke to him, he made notes on an open book in front of him, and spoke back to them. They then put their newly-copied books on a pile to one side of Tikon''s desk, and picked up another book from the other side of his desk.


    Tikon coughed. "Class, we have a visitor."


    All the children turned to me, and I could feel their childish joy. They were ecstatic to be in this room, copying books. Looking at them individually, I could see their happiness levels were the highest in the fortress, maximum possible happiness.


    Basking in the warmth of their bliss, I could feel my mind shifting, finding a firmer grip on my new reality. I nodded to the front of the room. "Carry on, Tikon."


    I looked over the rest of the room. "Don''t let me interrupt you, children." I projected a fierce pride in them, and felt them smugly accept it as their just due.


    I chuckled at their cheekiness as I walked back to my quarters, and my thoughts hardened. I wanted to spend more time with the children. To do that, I would need to survive. The fortress would need to survive.


    Losing was no longer fun.

 Overseer 1.9 - Interlude 2

    A critical anomaly was detected, generating highest priority alarms, and Dragon''s attention immediately snapped to it, analyzing. The Simurgh had just shifted orbit slightly. It had never done so before, unless it was attacking Earth. After all prior attacks, Simurgh had returned to exactly the same orbit.


    Now, it changed, and it did not appear to be attacking Earth. Some simple calculations on radar data determined exactly where the shift occurred... Directly over the underground base of the new cape, Overseer.


    More complex calculations occurred rapidly. Highly precise measurements were generated from additional radar sources and satellite footage that was routinely available to her due to her security access.


    The more intense calculations indicated that Simurgh''s course change had occurred within feet of it crossing into airspace directly over the clear-cut national parkland that Overseer seemed to be claiming as her own. The Simurgh apparently was avoiding airspace above the Overseer.


    Dragon devoted a significant amount of processing power to analyzing everything she knew about Overseer against the new data, and only came up with several unprovable hypothesis. They simply didn''t know enough about how Overseer''s power worked.


    A close examination of the new and old satellite data of Overseer''s clear-cut showed a very slightly increased ground temperature, and a large thermal bloom coming from the cave entrance and a few small thermal blooms from other locations scattered about the clear-cut area. Clearly additional exits and entrances to the underground facility.


    There was, additionally, a grid of small stone and glass structures spread across the landscape. Satellite imagery could not tell her exactly what was in them, but each small building contained something small, and mobile. The positioning of the buildings...


    A brief perusal of the Bay12 forums found what she had remembered. Animal-powered watchtowers. Built exactly the same as in the forums. The small moving contents would be some sort of bird or non-grazing animal. Used to detect invisible attackers.


    Did Overseer expect that this world would behave exactly like the game... A disturbing possibility struck. Dragon devoted more processing power to analysis of satellite data.


    When the frenetic surface activity had begun, every construct on the surface had moved in the shortest possible path between every item that had been retrieved and the entrance of the complex. No construct moved in a curved line. Not even once. Not even during the short battle. Based on the newly recognized data, Overseer didn''t just expect this world to behave exactly like the game, she apparently did actually have perfect awareness of everything within her range, except beings that could make themselves undetectable to normal senses.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Her range appeared to be roughly defined by the clear-cut forest horizontally. The surface temperature and cave entrance heat plume seemed to indicate that something was moving a large amount of hot air. Had she driven a shaft all the way to the mantle nearly twenty miles below her already and started bringing magma closer to the surface?


    Animals in watchtowers would not be able to see invisible humans normally. Nor would they raise any sort of alarm detectable to a human. Either Overseer could create other types of constructs besides the ''dwarves'', and see through their eyes, or... Realization struck. If Overseer somehow detects the presence of anything in her sphere of influence, Simurgh may have detected Overseer''s ability to detect it and wish to avoid that detection, while not being concerned enough about it to attack Overseer.


    Dragon collected her analysis and prepared it for filing, suggesting adjustments to the power classification of Overseer.


    Master 8+ (estimated) highly efficient constructs with minor power ratings and shared senses


    Thinker 2+ (estimated) complete knowledge of normal-human sensory data within sphere of influence tentatively estimated at forty total acres surrounding her tunnel entrance. Unknown vertical range estimated from Earth''s mantle to high orbit.


    Shaker 1+ (uncertain) possible alteration of some physical laws in her sphere of influence to allow her sphere of influence to behave similarly to Dwarf Fortress.


    Tinker 1+ ability to create items from material adamantite, based on Dwarf Fortress material of the same name.


    After a very brief consideration, Dragon revised the analysis, post-dating it to the next day. Overseer certainly hadn''t beaten the S9 in her first encounter, but she wasn''t a casual cape to be brushed aside either. The S9 might try to gather information on her from PRT records or captured PRT personnel, if an opportunity arose. The PRT would be taking no action to engage her for at least another day and a half or so. There was no pressing need for the data to be available for any official purpose today.


    Good luck, Overseer, you will need it. Dragon thought as she reluctantly turned her attention to other things.

 Overseer 2.0 - Interlude 3

    As we approached the scene of yesterday''s excitement, I slowed the school bus, viewing the changed terrain with caution. Someone''s been busy, I thought to myself.


    Before reaching the rather clear demarcation line between trees and no trees, I stopped, put the bus in park, and set the emergency brake. "OK, everyone, we''re here!"


    I turned slightly in my seat to take a look at my passengers, they all appeared ready. I could see signs of various degrees of apprehension, eagerness, and caution, all mixed with readiness.


    Siberian, seated directly behind me on the first bench, looked up, absently licking her fingers like a cat licking its paw. I couldn''t read her at all. She never displayed and fear and always seemed ready for entertainment. Not being able to read her wasn''t critical, just irritating. She also had no apparent desire to lead, which likely explained why I wasn''t dead on the side of the road somewhere, missing a pound or two of flesh. It added a little excitement to have a bit of unknown mixed into the group.


    I stood and carefully stepped over the deceased ex-driver, who was missing an arm. Riley was absently poking at one of her spiderbots with small sharp surgical implements. Crawler was tucked into a nest of small corpses, restless, but not moving, so he wouldn''t accidentally destroy the bus with his spike-like legs.


    I picked a little sandwich triangle out of the red-stained lunchbox on the dash above the door-lever and popped it in my mouth, chewing and swallowing the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Almost as good as mom''s. Then I popped a straw into the little box of juice from the same lunchbox and took a long drink, emptying about half of it.


    King had introduced us to school busses years ago - they were the next best thing to sliced bread. Everything we needed to travel, all in one convenient bundle. Better yet, Riley enjoyed waiting for the bus with other kids her age, and her simple joy was intoxicating.


    Cherish was acting bored, but I could tell she was actually a little on edge, her attention switching from teammate to teammate, watching everyone closely. She had an impressive poker face that wasn''t quite good enough to fool me. Her father seemed to have trained his children to conceal their emotions quite well. I chuckled, thinking to myself, imagine that.


    Everyone was watching me now; I needed to stop amusing myself with Cherish''s antics. I doubted she was ready to act on her obvious plans yet, which was fine. She was fun to have around, and definitely filled a gap.


    "Well, as everyone knows, we''re short one member right now." I had their attention. "I know there was an agreement that we would head into Brockton Bay to test out a few promising potential members." There were a couple impatient nods from Shatterbird and Cherish. Crawler shifted in the back of the bus where ten benches had been ripped out to give him room for his nest of bodies.


    "As we discussed, I think this young lady that we''re about to visit has the potential to fill out the team. If I''m wrong, well, it should be entertaining anyway. If I''m right, we''ll just stop by Brockton Bay anyhow, strictly for fun rather than recruitment." I scanned over them before continuing. "Has anyone thought of any objections on the way here?"


    Everyone either indicated a negative, or in the case of Siberian, just looked up at me.


    "OK, everyone, off the bus. Cherish, please get the back door for Crawler." Cherish really didn''t like Crawler much, and he didn''t have fine motor skills. It was a match made in heaven, giving me a reason to put her near him regularly. I grinned to myself, carefully not looking towards Cherish as she pretended nonchalance, stepping over Crawler''s legs and the bodies of children on the way to the back door of the bus. Crawler knew his appearance bothered Cherish, I had made sure to tell him. He wasn''t very intelligent, but he did like irritating people because it made them want to hurt him, which he encouraged.


    After we were all off the bus, gathered and looking at the clear-cut where there had been a forest yesterday, Cherish spoke up. "You know this is probably a trap, right, Jack?" She paused. "It''s a weekend in a state park, and there was nobody on the lake, nobody in any of the picnic shelters, no parked cars." She paused. "No homicide detectives and cadaver dogs looking for pieces of dead bodies."


    That was a little funny. I chuckled and gave her my best knowing smile. "Well, Cherish, I know you''re new, but after the last couple little adventures we''ve had, you should know by now that we take our entertainment where we can find it, or where it finds us." I shrugged. "It''s all the same in the end. We do what we want, when we want, and if anyone gets in our way unexpectedly, then it''s just a bit more spice."


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    I could tell that Mannequin, Burnscar, and Cherish were all slightly irritated by that statement, but that was fine. They were the more cautious ones. It never hurt to have a few cautious people on the team, as long as they knew when to act and when to think. They had all survived initiation, so they knew when to act.


    I waved my hand at the landscape in front of us. It looked like a logging operation had just passed through, and based on the lack of logs, that was not just an appearance, it was a reality. "It seems as if our new cape has been busy. Apparently she needs wood in pretty significant quantities. That might be worth remembering."


    Burnscar smiled eagerly, clearly excited. Beautiful.


    Mannequin was looking closely at something, his body language indicating he was thinking hard.


    "Does anyone have anything to say before we move in?" A tiny motion of Mannequin''s head indicated he had made a decision. He said nothing. I almost laughed.


    I repeated the warning I had given them before. "Remember, we want to capture her and take her out of her comfort zone. I''m not living in a hole and waiting for entertainment to come to me. She ran by going underground, so she''s clearly more comfortable there."


    Shatterbird spoke. "There''s very little glass or sand here. I can sense a tightly-packed concentration of sand underground in one place, and two concentrations of glass near that. Aboveground, those little buildings have a lot of glass. Other than that, there are a few small concentrations of silicon that feel like printed circuit boards. One of them is moving, and feels very strange."


    "Any reason to change plans?" I asked.


    "No. Not really," Shatterbird said, thoughtfully. "You told her we''d be coming back. She apparently knows enough about me to store glass away in what she thinks are safe places." There was a smile and a pause. "But she left cubic yards of it in those buildings, and there''s plenty of sand over there." She waved her hand towards a volleyball sandpit. "Shall I begin?"


    "After you, my dear." I saw the little hungry glance she directed my way. Shatterbird''s attraction to me was fun to play with. She was the product of a middle-eastern culture where women simply didn''t initiate sex with men. It was amusing to encourage her desire and watch her refusal to act upon it. Her obvious discomfort mixed with desire was, frankly, better than sex for me. Not that I wouldn''t mind indulging her if she ever decided to ask me, but that would be second prize.


    A beautiful thought struck me. Now that I think about it... I smiled a little wider at her and let my eyes drop down to her breasts then to her face again, watching her eyes watch me, I could tell they her attraction to me had just jumped a notch. Excellent, this will be entertaining. After indulging her fantasy with me a couple times, I could start ignoring her advances. Watching her mind slowly crack like glass as she realized that I really didn''t give a damn about her might be better than what I was getting from her now.


    Shatterbird turned her face away from me a little, blushing. With a simple gesture of her hand, a tidal wave of sand formed from the volleyball pit, rolling across the ground until it reached her and lifted her off the ground, almost like she was surfing.


    Crawler rushed in after Shatterbird started moving, passing her and climbing onto one of the nearest towers, reaching inside with a claw, poking at something. I heard the confusion mixed with humor in his voice as he yelled back to me. "Jack, uh, have you ever heard of chicken-based powers?"


    Shatterbird began to sing and Crawler''s demeanor instantly shifted from curiosity and disbelief to excitement as he pressed himself against the glass of the tower, yelling to Shatterbird "Hurt me baby! Hurt me so good!"


    Shatterbird quickly glanced at Crawler in obvious disgust at the sexual innuendo, but then turned away from him and began to scream, appearing to lose herself in ecstasy as she embraced her powers. If we ever did have sex, I was certain she''d be a screamer. I couldn''t resist a little chuckle, and saw Cherish smile smugly as she gathered a little more information about me that she thought would be useful to her transparent plans. I smiled at her, and her smile faltered a little. Cute little backstabber, aren''t you?


    I finished the other half of the juice-box with straw-slurping sounds that I knew would irritate both Cherish and Riley, and then joined in as the rest of us linked hands in a circle with Siberian. Before Shatterbird built up her power to get things started, I looked over the barren wasteland of tree trunks and weird little towers, thinking to myself, young lady, you had best not disappoint me.

 Overseer 2.1

    I was in the middle of a very excellent meal of beef roast stuffed with valley herbs and cave wheat when time stopped right as a forkful of the delicious meal touched my tongue.


    My eyes crossed a little as I tried to look down towards my fork.


    How irritating, I thought to myself, tasting the food on my tongue but unable to do anything about it. Apparently taste buds work in Alert Time.


    I almost decided to start time again just to eat that bite, but decided to check first. The new clearing in the forest had apparently attracted deer and hawks, as they had constantly been moving in and out of my sphere of influence, driving me nuts all day. Or night. Or whatever time it was outside. The laptop battery had died long ago, and as tempted as I was to try the generator, I needed to be doing things more than I needed to be fiddling with computers and generators. Silicon and glass would be critically dangerous when Shatterbird arrived, so the two items had been moved to Human tech storage. The time for research was done.


    I cast my senses out, looking for the newcomer, and the delicious meal on my tongue was immediately forgotten as I found the new arrival.


    Crawler. Fear and excitement and anger all rose simultaneously in me, but I used a single word to beat down the fear and excitement. Danielle.


    Frigid hatred cascaded through my mind, erasing all other emotions. All extraneous thoughts not related to ending the S9 and protecting the fortress children vanished. I had been pacing and fretting all day, clearly irritating my dwarves, but somehow not causing them much unhappiness. They understood anxiety in the face of imminent danger, and recognized that a good leader rarely ever believed they had thought of everything. At least that was what Urist told me in the meeting I had called, nearly twelve hours ago.


    You could never perfect fortress defenses. There were always ways to improve them, but my dwarves had been working very hard. Urist and Arda, as well as a half dozen other highly experienced masons and mechanics, hammered out plans with me for hours after I had spoken with the children. For hours more, I had just done my best to simply stay out of the way and adjust permissions and active assignments of dwarves at the request of Arda and Urist. They told me who needed to do what job, and I made it happen.


    Urist, after confirming his soldiers knew their mobilization and deployment plans had even started cutting stone blocks for construction at a rate clearly indicating he was at least a high master mason, despite there being no record of such a skill for him. The fact that so many blocks were coming out of a masonry shop dedicated to low skilled masons was not lost on the other masons. He lied and said he''d had a masonry mood when he was a child in another fortress he lived in before he emigrated to Axespeaker. At least I thought it was a lie. Nobody pressed him on it, certainly not me.


    I assigned dwarves to burrows and verified again that food, drink, and beds had been moved around to various lever rooms and into each burrow. I checked the deep bunker that had been prepared for the children, nearly twelve miles below, and the obsidian mixers that would seal the long passage leading to them. No adults would accompany the children. There were three eleven-year-olds who would be fully adult within months, and enough food and drink stored to last them for two years, as well as a complete set of all workshops, books, and tools. If the rest of the fortress fell, they would be the future - if they survived my death, which was by no means certain. I hoped that not even the S9 would dig that deep for twenty children.


    I spent nearly a subjective hour in alert time, checking every incomplete job and every dwarf''s status. There were no must-finish incomplete jobs as far as I could tell.


    A critical thought struck my mind like a hammer. Socks. Where are all the socks? And vermin corpses. Having a butterfly corpse keep a critical door from closing and allowing Crawler into the wrong place at the wrong time would be bad, worse than enraged elephants.


    I verified that there were no socks or any other unclaimed items outside of depot storage. There was no refuse anywhere except a few dead vermin where cats had left presents for the ones they had adopted, and those were in non-critical places. Even the cooks and brewers had been pressed into duty assembling defenses in the fortress. Every dwarf had an innate sense for stone construction.


    I went through my mental checklist one more time, and could think of nothing. I ended Alert Time. My dwarves exploded into action, finishing any job that was important to defense, and abandoning any job that wasn''t. They ran like mad for their assigned posts as I continued eating the food in front of me without tasting it. I would need the energy. I couldn''t leave my quarters anyway - the final solution lever was in the private lever room off my bedroom.


    Shatterbird appeared at my border as I watched Crawler climb onto one of the watchtowers and kill the chicken inside. I could feel the nervousness of my dwarves as a strange scream began to build in intensity, we could hear it through the stone itself, through all the doors. It didn''t echo, it was everywhere, not like real sound at all, but still painfully loud and shrill. The window glass of all the animal-powered watchtowers disappeared in an instant, followed closely by all of the glass in the glass storage areas. Damage to items in the human tech storage areas was severe and growing worse. I also felt the disappearance of all the bags in the sand storage area within seconds.


    Shatterbird''s screaming continued, and the human tech items rapidly disappeared. I imagined that all three of the special storage rooms were now filled with a vortex of sand and glass, rapidly beginning to wear the stone that surrounded it. After breaking her sand and glass out of the enclosures, Shatterbird would use her sand to map out the fortress, and as a weapon when needed. If they intended to capture me, she couldn''t use the sand to simply kill everything that moved though.


    The rage of my glassmakers as their master crafted windows and finished glass goods were destroyed in an instant rushed through me like an artic gale. I had done what I could for them. I had warned them, provided them with the best of everything. Every surface in all of their private quarters were engraved with masterworks. Statues to their gods, made of the materials of their choices, with gemstones to match their preferences were placed in their quarters. They even got personal mist generators in their quarters, before I had gotten a shower in mine. Still, I lost two of them to their rage as they entered a berserk state, their connection to me failing, diminishing, until they were no more connected to me than Crawler and Shatterbird were.


    All of my glassmakers had willingly been confined, locked in cells deep under the fort. In a rage, the two berserking dwarves began smashing at the walls of their enclosures, but those walls had been reinforced to hold even berserking dwarves. I directed that appropriate levers be activated and three extraordinarily angry, but not berserk dwarven glassmakers left their confinement and rushed to a nearby armor and weapon depot to equip themselves with masterwork weapons and armor. I could feel their sanity stabilize as they admired the weapons and armor they hoped to use to kill intruders with while they moved to their assigned positions within the fort.


    I closed my eyes and clenched my fists, shoulders shaking in fury as I watched Crawler and Shatterbird moving towards the fortress entrance. The two berserk dwarves were lost to me, they were lost to the fort, but I couldn''t let them die now by releasing them and directing them through prepared passages to charge the S9 as they had asked. If I did, their deaths would damage the morale of their relatives and friends significantly, which the fortress could not afford.


    I wasn''t certain if I was being a complete idiot or not, but there were rumors that one might trigger a power twice, and gain additional strength or abilities. The S9 were professional killers, used to working as a team, capable of sieging entire cities and defeating entire groups of organized capes by themselves. I was a college age young woman, and my only combat experience outside of LARPing was being beaten up in seventh grade by a fifth grader. My dwarves would do what they could, but I still needed anything I could get. I needed more. The S9 had triggered me once. I was hoping to trigger myself again with the rage of my dwarves as they died or went insane, because I had little doubt that most of my dwarves would die with me today.


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    My dwarves knew my plans, and they did not approve. The memory of being called insane by the dwarves in the planning meeting made my mouth twitch. Their expressions as I had started laughing uncontrollably had been a bright spot in the day. After I explained what was funny to the dwarves in the meeting with me, they had all laughed as well. Macabre humor was nothing strange to dwarves. They still didn''t like the idea, but I pointed out to them that they could not stop me. The happiness level of the dwarves in that meeting had dropped a little, in unison, but they accepted my choice fatalistically.


    As my glassmakers raged, I tried to widen my connection to them, attempting to mimic what I''d done with Urist after The Simurgh had mind-raped me. At first there were five trickles of rage feeding me, and I was trying with all my might to open those connections wider. Then, all of a sudden, the two unfortunate glassmaker dwarves had gone berserk. For a brief instant, while I was trying as hard as I could to pull their rage into me, the connections between us had widened. What had been two trickles of inhumanly cold rage had become a raging torrent of rage so raw that I had barely managed to maintain consciousness before the connections to the berserkers failed.


    After being beaten against the rage of the berserking dwarves like a rug on the first day of spring, I felt the depth of my connections to everything in my sphere of influence widen slightly. Not enough to reconnect emotionally to the raging dwarves, but more detail. I could feel Crawler, spiked legs punching through soil as he advanced. I could feel the stone being worn away by Shatterbird''s remotely-controlled glass and sand. I could hear the sounds of my dwarves whispering amongst themselves, and hear them voicing their worry for me. Then, I heard a familiar mellow voice commanding his team to move up and meet by the entrance of my fortress.


    Frigid fury ripped through my mind as I watched more enemies enter my sphere of influence. The Siberian first, then Jack Slash, Bonesaw, Cherish, Burnscar, and finally Mannequin, who I had somehow forgotten about until the documents from Dragon warned me about him.


    I reached out to my mug of watered strawberry wine, and threw back a swallow, wiping my mouth with a napkin. I ignored the headache and pretended that the red stain on the napkin was the color of wine.


    Shatterbird reached the entrance of the fortress before the others. I could feel the glass and sand that she controlled in her immediate vicinity, the shape of it, the velocity, and the density. Not each individual grain and shard, but the shape. I felt when she sent the majority of it into the first chamber, clearly scouting ahead.


    She spoke, and I had to concentrate to understand her words. "There is a long tunnel with a large room at the end. The room has a substantial structure in the middle of it. There is a very heavy metal door, with an incredibly tight seal. I cannot pass sand or glass beyond it."


    I wanted to let them enter the trade depot room so I could treat them like filthy elves, but I didn''t want to warn them that I was watching them, able to hear what they were saying. They would almost certainly expect some sort of big trap in the first room, outside such a sturdy door. The Siberian would certainly be ready to protect them. It would be better for them to think I was scared and blind.


    I directed that a lever be activated, and a dwarf ran to that lever and pulled it. Three floodgates opened, and a section of ceiling attached to that lever activated. Magma filled the three storage areas where Shatterbird was trying to use the sand and glass to bore her way through stone. The glass and sand was absorbed into the mass of magma almost instantly. In the space of a half second, all the glass and sand deep in the fortress was stripped away from Shatterbird''s control. I heard her gasp of surprise, and smiled coldly.


    Another half of a second passed, and the false ceiling above the entrance tunnel and the trade depot began to withdraw, allowing a solid sheet of magma to fall from the ceiling. The falling sheet of magma started twenty feet into the tunnel, and then followed the retracting ceiling towards the trade depot and the artifact door guarding the entrance of the facility. All of the sand and glass shards in the chamber became part of the magma immediately, stripping almost all of Shatterbird''s remaining sand and glass away from her control.


    I directed that another lever be thrown, and two hatches opened at the base of the tunnel, one to either side of the door. Magma drained rapidly. I did not reset the traps. That would come later, when they were inside. Let them think the traps were sprung.


    I heard a voice I didn''t recognize, female. Speaking softly. "Jack, you said this was that college-aged girl who collapsed in fear in the video? That she created a dozen constructs that looked like dwarves from fantasy?"


    The mellow voice responded "Yes, and she''s apparently been very, very busy. She even created some very nice coffins for her friends and her sister. I wouldn''t mind having a coffin like that someday." He sounded rather pleased. When he mentioned Danielle, a wave of fury passed over me so strongly that black spots danced in front of my eyes. I crushed the worry of my dwarves before it could weaken me.


    Cherish identified herself as the new female speaker by explaining what she was sensing with her power. "She, ah, doesn''t feel like she''s afraid Jack. There aren''t just a dozen constructs either, I''m sensing around two hundred emotion sources. Every one of them is just this side of insane rage, except two, which are in a mindless rage. I''ve, ah, not seen anything quite like it." She paused. "I mean, I can make people that mad, but she''s duplicated across her constructs, I can''t tell which is her."


    "How far away from us is she?" Jack asked.


    There was another pause before Cherish spoke again. "Scattered. From a few hundred feet underground to far enough underground that I can''t really pinpoint exactly where she is - at least ten miles. Not far from us horizontally, no more than a few hundred feet."


    After a moment Jack spoke again. "Ten miles, you say? And more than a hundred of her?"


    "Closer to two hundred. Around twenty of them are more than ten miles away. The rest are within a mile underground" Cherish corrected him.


    There was laughter from Jack, a gleeful laughter. "And here I was thinking that she might have just holed up and hoped we''d forgotten her. Boys and girls, she''s challenging us. She wants this fight." He paused. "And I forgot my Indiana Jones hat and whip."


    Crawler chuckled, and several other voices groaned good-naturedly.


    Jack spoke again a few seconds later. "OK, Crawler you''re on point. Everyone else circle up the wagons on Siberian until we get past this lava trap and see what''s inside the bunker."


    I heard two loud taps and then a loud scraping on rock, followed by two more taps. I tried to feel out what had just been scraped into the stone, but Jack read it faster than I could decipher it, sounding a little irritated. "Magma then. Thank you for the correction, Mannequin."


    I saw Crawler start moving quickly into the facility, and the others gathering together into a double line behind Siberian.


    Jack spoke again, sounding like he was about to get into an amusement park ride. "This will be more fun than I thought." He paused. "Still, ten miles." Another pause. "Cherish, feed her anger. Let''s see if we can draw her to us in a rage. I''d rather not chase her around in some underground maze for hours."


    Cherish sounded a little unsure of herself. "OK, Jack, I''m going to have to spread it to all those targets though, it''s not going to be much."


    "I understand. Do what you can. As we find them, there will be fewer to spread your concentration. Just keep fanning that rage."


    "I''ll do what I can, Jack." Cherish replied.


    Oh, please do, I silently thought as I allowed a thin-lipped, arctic cold smile to form. I reached forward to my mug of watered strawberry wine again, taking another drink. As I felt my rage begin to spike, I carefully set the mug down, daubing my mouth afterwards with the napkin to remove the dark red liquid from my upper lip.

 Overseer 2.2

    I watched as Crawler skittered down into the cave, intentionally moving from side to side to walk through small puddles of magma, occasionally muttering "Hot, Hot, Hot! Are you gonna do it?" as he snapped his claws together in a vaguely familiar rhythm. When he reached the end of the tunnel by the artifact floodgate, he paused above the left drain over the magma storage cistern.


    After a moment, he reached in to the open drain and ripped out the hatch, throwing it to one side before he jumped into the magma, ten feet below.


    I stared at the image of Crawler swimming in the magma, and heard him singing "rub-a-dub-dub" before he climbed up the cistern wall, spiking his limbs into the stone hard enough to support his weight as he climbed.


    The rest of the S9 had stopped near a large puddle of magma and Burnscar had separated from the rest, moving over next to the puddle for a moment.


    "Ow, damn, it''s too hot. It''s not really a fire. There''s a little bit of oxidation occurring at the surface of it, but not enough to allow me to teleport to it easily." Someone hummed, and based on the tone, I thought it was her. "I can do it, but it would feel like a normal person being dropped in boiling water if I landed directly in magma. Very unhappy, and unable to concentrate well." After a moment of silence she continued. "There are no normal fires of any sort that I can detect anywhere in my range."


    Jack''s voice answered, sounding thoughtful. "So, you can detect where our favorite dungeon master has placed more magma traps?"


    Burnscar replied, slowly. "Sure... sort of. I can tell where the magma is stored, but it''s a bit hard to tell where some of it''s supposed to come out. It''s all over the place. I''m seeing pockets of the stuff everywhere, and it''s all connected by tunnels and..." The voice became a whisper. "Wow. Jack, I think she created a volcano. There''s a massive vertical pipe of magma going down as far as I can detect."


    "A volcano, you say? Why, this is getting more and more interesting all the time. I can think of so many fun things we could do with a volcano!" He sounded excited, almost joyful. Just the sound of his happy voice made me shiver in anger, raising goose-bumps on the skin of my neck and arms under the armor and leathers. I collected that anger, pulling it into myself greedily, not allowing any to escape.


    "Mannequin, Bonesaw, imagine the science projects! I think we''ll call her Krakatoa if she ends up joining us, what do you all think?"


    Crawler shouted out "Never say no to Krak!" and then chuckled to himself as he moved up next to the artifact hatch leading into the fortress.


    If I didn''t want to kill him so badly, I probably would have smiled. I hated him for trying to be funny when he should have been dying, and collected that hatred, hoarding it, distilling it.


    While I was collecting that hatred, I lost track of time, briefly. Or maybe I blacked out for a second.


    Bonesaw''s voice spoke, sounding a little concerned. "We''ll definitely need to do something to let us control her if she joins, Jack."


    "I agree, but I''m sure you can come up with something." That was not a question, from the serious tone.


    Bonesaw treated it as a question anyhow. "Oh, sure. But we''ll have to talk about it in a little more depth if we capture her, and if it looks like she might be able to join us. No need to put too much thought into foresight when the future is so muddy."


    I heard and felt the vibration of hammer blows, progressively getting stronger, until the blows stopped, and Crawler spoke again. "Jack, this is Weird with a capital W. This door looks like some kind of rock, but I can''t scratch it."


    "Oh, is our little Krakatoa a tinker too?" Jack was sounding a little concerned now. "Master, Shaker, Tinker? If this gets any more complex I think it''ll be better to just have our fun here and be done with it."


    There was more hammering, interspersed with Crawler talking. Slam. Slam. "It''ll take me a minute to break out the rock around it enough for me to get a grip and rip it out." Slam. "A rock tinker though?" Slam. "Uh, that''s almost as weird as chicken-based powers, Jack." Slam."I guess it''s possible though. Tinkers clearly have a pretty wide range of specialties, based on present company. Maybe BamBam would be better than Krakatoa?"


    Jack spoke softly, chuckling. "No, I think Krakatoa works better, but I do like the sound of BamBam. I''ll remember it. Siberian. Over here please."


    Their casual banter as they waited for Crawler to get through the door was maddening. Fucking murderhobos in my fortress chatting like they were at a bar over beer and peanuts discussing fantasy football draft picks. Worse than elves.


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    I watched as they all moved over to the trade depot. Mannequin detached himself from the group, and walked around the building. It had been unharmed by the magma.


    "Shatterbird, this looks like glass. You can''t work with it?" Jack''s voice, inquisitive.


    "No, it''s obsidian. There''s too much iron and other metals in it. I can do a little with very low metal content obsidian, but this stuff is so heavy with metals I can''t even make it vibrate."


    "I see. So, there''s no silicon in the underground that you can work with any longer?"


    "No, Jack. Not that I can work with, other than what I have around me right now." She paused. "There''s a tiny bit that I can sense, but can''t do anything to. Maybe our rock tinker works with silicon too? That might explain how they were so thorough in preventing me access. Most people forget at least something made of glass, or that has sand in it, even if they know I''m around."


    I leaned forward and picked up my mug of watered strawberry wine and the red-streaked and spotted napkin sitting beside it, one in each hand. Then I leaned back, holding the mug in one hand and daubing more red off my upper lip with the other before I drank. I didn''t want to ruin the taste of the wine with that salty metallic taste.


    Shatterbird''s voice sounded excited. "Jack, the silicon just moved forward, and then back again, about six inches, in an arc, not a straight line. I think..."


    Jack finished the sentence for her. "It''s something she''s made. A tool. She''s wearing it. Well, well. Please point in the direction of our little Krakatoa, please, Shatterbird. Let''s see if Cherish can narrow down her focus."


    My blood went cold. I had thought maybe she had picked up on an artifact with some sand in it that wasn''t part of the construction, at first, but... I gripped my USB pendant with the bloody napkin reflexively. It had to be what Shatterbird had been talking about. I had completely forgotten that there was a silicon chip in it. I summoned Urist in a panic. I needed to get my USB pendant away from me, and start having it carried around the fortress, put it somewhere to bait a trap.


    "No need Jack. One of the nodes I was watching just shifted from cold hatred to panic. I''ve got her isolated from the rest now. I''ll point at her."


    There was a pause and Shatterbird spoke a couple seconds later. "About four hundred yards that way, almost straight down, yes."


    "No. No. No. This isn''t the plan!"I screamed out loud as I desperately tried to come up with any idea other than the final solution lever. Bravado was one thing. Actually pulling that lever and ending myself was the last thing I wanted to do.


    Jack laughed and then started to speak to me as if I were in front of him. "So, Krakatoa, you were listening to us the whole time, eh?" He clapped out loud, slowly, at a measured pace. "Bonesaw here was right the other day! That trigger event of yours must have been quite a rush! Master with brute constructs, Shaker, a little Tinker, and now, we find out that there''s at least a bit of Thinker in you too. Quite the power set you have there."


    After a few moments, Jack continued. "You''re welcome, by the way. I hope you have enjoyed your powers. I''m afraid that there''s no need to thank me though. At this point, it would be more troublesome to try to fit you into the group than it would be worth. Thinkers are such a pain, and I like my secrets. What we gave you, we will now take away."


    I heard a sharp crack followed by a rumble through the stone as the artifact floodgate, still undamaged, was ripped out of its stone frame. Crawler''s voice echoed into the main corridor behind the floodgate. "Knock Knock. Anyone home?"


    I heard another loud crack, and felt Mannequin picking up a large chunk of obsidian and scraping tools across its surface. He then hopped on top of the depot and jumped towards the ceiling overhead. When he hit the ground, he was no longer carrying the chunk of obsidian.


    I barely heard Jack telling Cherish to make me go berserk if she could as I realized what Mannequin had carved into the chunk of obsidian he''d used to jam the retracting ceiling open, so I couldn''t refill the Elf bath trap.


    A butterfly. Mannequin knew the theme of my power.

 Overseer 2.3

    Mind-shattering rage forced itself into me, filling my mind like someone had jammed a fire hose into my mouth. I threw myself out of my chair, heaving the small granite table to the side so that it shattered against the wall. I was halfway out of my quarters in six steps at a fast walk, having already put on my helmet and gauntlets, walking towards the weapon rack next to the door to pick up the goblin whip, the only real weapon in the fortress that I could even lift.


    I could feel my connection to everything in my sphere of influence growing more solid. The anger being forced into me by Cherish was feeding me. I knew what the intruders were wearing. I knew exactly what they were doing, I could see them in my mind like I was watching them on a security camera.


    Cherish pointing the way to Jack, who gave commands to Crawler, and Shatterbird using the little sand she still had with her to scout in advance of Crawler. Every now and then, they would simply walk through the stone like it was air, holding Siberian''s hand as they followed Shatterbird and Cherish''s directions. Crawler would follow behind while Siberian''s power of matter destruction created a tunnel, then move back to point when they broke into a new passage through the fortress. Burnscar was helping them avoid magma traps, and Crawler was simply setting off all the non-magma traps with glee.


    While I was watching the S9 calmly moving almost directly towards me, I picked up the whip and grabbed the door knob.


    Mannequin stopped at an uncarved section of wall, and quickly carved an image of a young girl running from seven humans and a scorpion. The leader of the humans was laughing. After finishing, he quickly rejoined the group coming almost directly towards me.


    Novice work at best, came the comments of several of the dwarves connected to my mind. There was general agreement. Reasonably decent for a human though, did you see the movement he used with his etching tool on the bevel at the end of the scorpion tail? I might actually have to try that. Came another comment.


    The connection to my dwarves was more solid than it had ever been. I was sharing thoughts with them, not just simple information and commands. We were all charging towards the S9. Even the children, deep below were grabbing picks, beginning to mine upwards to join the fight. I tried to force them to stop, but they ignored me. It would take days for them to mine up the shaft to the area of the fight though. None of them were mature. None of them were seasoned miners.


    Instead of me drawing the fury and anger from my dwarves, my dwarves were now drawing fury and anger from me, but it wasn''t enough. Cherish was overloading me, and I was overloading my dwarves. Despite the banter in my head, despite the cold rage radiating from every one of us, we all knew we were doing exactly what we were expected to do. And we didn''t care.


    Cherish started speaking. "I''ve got her, Jack, she''s on her way now. We probably want to find or make a large open area - they are coming but they seem to be coordinating to arrive in a big wave. Well, most of them. Some of them seem to be moving very slowly, far underground."


    After I opened my door, I pulled the kite shield off my back and settled it on my arm. I at least knew how to wear the armor, and I could feel my dwarves struggling within my mind to help me understand a little better how to move and fight in armor, but the smallest adult dwarf weighed about six hundred pounds, averaging closer to eight hundred. They had very little to teach me that would help.


    I ran down the hallway, joining half a dozen dwarves as Arda and Tikon coordinated our headlong rush in the shared mind, converging on the communal dining room. After the first twenty or thirty of us died, almost everyone would be in a berserker state, fighting anything that moved, so we would want to surround them, to create the largest number of berserk dwarves close to the enemies as possible.


    There''s Urist! I thought to myself, as I saw him running towards me, axe slung over his back.


    As he approached, he didn''t slow down, running straight at me. Even in an enraged state, I did not want to run into almost a thousand pounds of sprinting dwarf. I slowed, expecting him to do the same. "Urist, what''s wrong?"


    He swerved to the side to avoid me, and a gigantic fist reached out, grabbing me around the waist as he ran past. "I''m sorry, Overseer." Before I understood what was happening, I was ripped off my feet and my shield and whip fell to the ground. There was no opportunity to struggle as I was trapped against his chest with his handless arm as he ran. In shock, I felt my helmet being ripped off by the hand of Urist''s good arm, and then I watched as a gigantic index finger thwapped me in the forehead. Then there was a bright tunnel, and darkness.


    **


    I woke up coughing from a bucket of ice cold water thrown in my face. I did not recognize the place I was in, but a quick check of the fortress map in my head indicated that I was in the graveyard. Urist was standing over me with a somber expression on his face.


    I could only feel twenty-one sane dwarves in the fortress. Urist and the children. The children were nearly insane with grief over the deaths of their families, but their amazing happiness levels had kept any of them from berserking.


    One hundred eighty dwarven corpses were scattered in the communal dining room, stacked like cordwood where they had charged the S9, who had been ready and waiting for them.


    "Urist, I should have been there!" I kicked him in the knee as hard as I could, my sabatons clanging against his greaves.


    He shrugged. "But you weren''t." He looked down as I kicked him in the knee again with another loud clang. "Would it make you feel better if I said ouch?"


    My head hurt so much. Still, I forced myself to look. I needed the rage. If I didn''t have the rage, either the headache or the hopelessness would make me collapse.


    I watched as Cherish and Shatterbird crawled out of the large wooden bin sitting next to Siberian. Burnscar and Bonesaw were both brushing dust off themselves. Siberian had protected all her fragile team members in the wooden bin that had apparently been looted from a nearby depot. Crawler and she then killed dwarves until they berserked and turned on each other. As my enemies calmly talked amongst themselves, my rage started building again. Jack and Burnscar laughed as Crawler told a stupid joke about short people.


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    Siberian picked up a bloody bit, looked at it from a couple angles, and then took a small bite of it.


    "Does it taste like chicken?" Jack asked, with a chuckle.


    The naked zebra woman simply nodded.


    Cherish and Shatterbird, muttering to each other, slowly turned in my direction, and Cherish spoke. "She''s in that direction, Jack, with one construct."


    I watched as Jack turned in my direction. "I know you can hear me, young lady. This has been a lot more interesting than I expected it to be, but we really do have places to go. The longer we chase you, the less happy we will be when we find you."


    My blood went cold with fear, and my hand gripped the USB pendant around my neck. "Urist. They can still track me."


    Urist looked down at me, then held his hand down to me. "I suspected that, and you''re probably going to start raging again soon, unless they decide they just want to hunt you for fun."


    "Why do this then, Urist? Why didn''t you let me die with them?"


    "Because I wanted to do something stupid." Urist shrugged.


    My mind went a little blank. "What?"


    "When you''re completely outmatched by an enemy that you cannot possibly defeat in a direct fight, you don''t fight directly."


    "We tried that, Urist, it didn''t work!" I yelled up at him.


    Urist flexed his fingers. "Take my hand and stand, please. I''d like to have my axe in my hand when I die, not reaching down to help a weakling."


    My vision went red. I grabbed his hand with my right hand, and pulled myself to my feet as hard as I could. I used the pulling motion of my right hand to help me add power to the looping haymaker punch of my left. I saw Urist''s head move slightly, so he took the blow on his eyebrow instead of his nose.


    "Fuck you, Urist." I screamed as my gauntleted fist smashed into his eyebrow ridge.


    "Dwarves don''t do that, you know. Spores." He flicked his hand across his brow and looked at it, there was a little blood on his hand. "I''ve been hit harder by a four-year-old, but that was a pretty good blow for someone of your size and experience."


    "So you are planning on fighting and dying here. Why didn''t you just join us before?"


    "I already told you. I wanted to try something stupid." He kicked a gravestone, breaking it.


    I stared, shocked. A dwarf desecrating a grave? I had brought the remains of all the dwarves in the old fortress graveyard across, and all the headstones and coffins as well. There were over four hundred graves here.


    Urist wandered from place to place quickly, ignoring ten or twenty stones in a row before kicking another. I saw no rhyme or reason to it until I looked at the names and causes of death on the broken headstones closest to me. They were all Urist''s victims, all but one listed as death by loss of blood during assault by unknown vampire.


    "Urist." I whispered. "Are you really trying to do what I think you''re trying to do?"


    He kicked another head stone, which shattered into four pieces. "Since I just saw you reading three stones, and then look at me sharply, I''d say probably so. Like I said, a stupid idea." He twirled his axe in the air, then caught it and smiled at me.


    "How is dying this way going to be any better than dying to the S9, Urist? The children don''t have the skills to make new markers, and they can''t mine out before the ghosts will find them."


    Urist glanced in my direction as he kicked over another stone. "Overseer, I am certain that when you die, all of us who remain will cease to exist. We came into being from nothing." He paused. "That''s just not possible. Not even necromancy works that way. There''s always a source, a precursor, something before."


    I couldn''t argue with that logic, even if I wasn''t sure if he was right. At best it would be a he-said, she-said argument. "Why end it this way? We could have just gone into the melee. Or the final solution lever. I had a lever in my room that could have killed us a lot easier, and given the children a chance, if you''re wrong."


    "Who said anything about ending it? You''re not understanding, Overseer. After they figured out where you were, there was absolutely no way possible that we dwarves were going to defeat those enemies, whether by trap, trick or melee. They have complementary strengths, better-than-piss-poor leadership, and enough caution and experience that they were just going to wander back and forth through the fortress slaughtering us until they found you, and then we would all poof."


    "So you say." I glared at him.


    "Indeed. So I say." He smiled at me. "You don''t really understand your role in this yet, do you?"


    "My role in what? Dying? That''s pretty straightforward, I''d say."


    "No." He grinned at me fiercely as he walked back towards where he had broken the first headstone, the newest-looking stone. Ulok Obsidianplow''s stone. The first dwarf to die in this world, mortally wounded by Crawler, then drained by Urist.


    I watched, nervously, as a transparent white form started to coalesce in front of me, above Ulok''s broken tombstone. I could see other white forms beginning to form above other desecrated graves. They had all died to violence, they had all died to Urist, and he had personally just desecrated all their graves. They were going to be in a state of complete rage when they finished forming.


    Urist moved to stand beside me, near Ulok''s forming ghost. "Overseer, when there''s no way in hell you can win any other way, the smartest thing to do is try something stupid."


    I punched at his face again, and he casually blocked me with his arm stump, the clang of our armor colliding rang loudly. "That just sounds insane, Urist."


    "You got a freebie, Overseer, but only one. You have to earn the next one." He smiled toothily. "I want to live. All the rest of the adult dwarves are dead except two berserk dwarves that I will consume if I survive, so I do not have to prey on the children. The children can''t carve memorials, and you aren''t a stone crafter either. I, on the other hand, am a master engraver and a master stone crafter. You convince the ghosts to kill our enemies without killing me or you, and we all live."


    I stared at him in shock. He wants me to convince murderous ghosts to help us?


    Urist winked at me. "Remember, it''s for the children."

 Overseer 2.4

    I almost exploded in fury on the spot when Urist made it clear that he had leveraged the lives of the children against me in order to save his own skin. Almost. I internalized the anger instead.


    Urist had to wait. I had other things to worry me. Even if Urist and I died, the murderous ghosts would kill everyone in the fortress over time, including the children, if they didn''t have new memorials to replace the ones Urist had shattered. Right now, Urist was the only one in the fortress who might conceivably create twenty new memorials rapidly enough to please twenty extremely angry ghosts.


    On top of that, I could see the S9 carefully but rapidly heading in my direction, Crawler, Siberian, Burnscar, Shatterbird, and Mannequin were all working together to set off traps on Crawler, or disable, disarm, or avoid traps that Crawler couldn''t simply set off with no risk to others. All of the ''crunchy'' S9 were staying very close to Siberian. Once every fifteen seconds or so, Cherish would point in my direction, and Jack would nod. I had about two or three minutes before they arrived.


    A brief moment of melancholy took me. Danielle, if Urist''s insane plan doesn''t work, then I''m sorry I didn''t avenge you and the rest.


    I needed the anger. I could feel connections to the dwarven ghosts beginning to form. I had to have the strength of rage, and I knew where to find it. Just looking at the S9 made my blood turn to ice in hatred. The talkative ones were chatting between themselves. Cherish and Burnscar were trying to talk Bonesaw into doing her hair into pigtails, cajoling the girl who was hesitant about how she would look in them. Almost like a family conversation between sisters. Almost like some conversations I''d had with my sister.


    That thought turned the ice in my blood to liquid helium, and I was able to begin sapping the rage from the children who were still trying to mine up from their bunker. They were still desperately unhappy, but they calmed down, organized themselves, and began digging faster. Nowhere near as fast as even a single adult dwarf would though. They would take days to dig what Iton could have finished in a matter of a few hours.


    Thinking of Iton, my senses found his body. The wounds were horrendous. I couldn''t tell what had caused them, but it didn''t look like it had been a blade. Piles of mangled bodies everywhere. Those wearing steel armor, like Tikon had been, were in worse shape. Crawler had been able to shred them terribly. The ones in Adamantite had simply been dismembered, pulled apart at the joints where the armor fit together. A few pieces of adamantite armor had suffered damage, presumably from Siberian.


    I could feel the children and Urist responding to my rage, drawing it away from me, instinctively taking it into themselves and drawing it into themselves. I couldn''t allow that. I needed my rage, all of it. I blocked my rage from leaving me so I would not lose any of its preciousness to the dwarven children who couldn''t effectively do anything with it, or Urist who didn''t deserve it. I blocked them off from my emotions, reducing their connections to me to the narrowest that I could. I felt Urist trying to force the connection open, but ignored him and he stopped trying.


    I started reciting names of the dead dwarves out loud, so I cound get twice the impact, once from thinking them, once from hearing them. I fed each recited name into the cold flame of my rage twice. All of them would need headstones too. If I could enlist the ghosts. If they could kill the intruders. If they would allow Urist to live and create headstones.


    If. If. If. Dad used to say that if frogs could fly, they wouldn''t bump their butts. I almost broke out of my carefully constructed rage as my thoughts slipped to parents. Dad and mom would be devastated by the loss of Danielle, and if I died too, it would leave them no children. I wish the stakes were as low as a bumped butt here Dad. I wish you and mom were here, in a way, but I''m glad you''re not.


    An image of Bonesaw dragging Danielle into my field of view, with piles of my horribly dismembered friends flew into my mind''s eye, and I fed that image to my rage.


    I then had the thought that my parents might have seen the video Jack mentioned, they might have actually witnessed with their own eyes how Danielle had been killed, and perhaps then seen her body being used as a prop to mentally torture me. When I fed that image to the rage, black spots floated in front of my eyes for several seconds as the rage flared and coldness crept deeper into my mind, seeking more fuel.


    I cast about in my mind for more sources of rage. I imagined the panic state my parents would now be in. The possibility that my parents might still be hoping and praying that Danielle was really still alive and I might survive enraged me even further, adding another strong measure of sweet, glorious hatred to the arctic bonfire growing ever more brightly in my mind.


    My sight was marred by large bright and dark spots, and I was having difficulty standing. My body was cold, and shivering, wet from the bucket of water used to wake me. I could feel liquid running over my lips and across the front of my chin, and saw a steady pattern of crimson droplets falling through the air and splattering on my light blue chest armor. Crimson and light blue. The color of love and ice.


    With the mental connection of love and icy hatred made in my mind, the hate within me jumped across the mental bridge and my hatred blazed to levels beyond what Cherish had managed to subject me to, and I gloried in it, even as I went to my hands and knees, and the crimson drops fell to the ground, instead of onto my armor.


    "Now would be a good time, Overseer." Urist whispered, as he stood beside me.


    I fed my irritation at Urist to the hate. Barely worth the effort of thinking about it. I analyzed what he had said, hoping to find more fuel, but there was nothing else to be angry about in his statement.


    I had started out collecting the hatred to help me gather strength to try to deal with the murderous ghosts Urist''s actions had created, but now it was no longer something I needed to try to do. I was wallowing in my hatred now, enjoying it, finding everything I could to feed to it. I recalled memories of holidays and birthdays shared, and linked them to holidays and birthdays that would have been shared, but now never would.


    Ravenously, I cast about in my own mind for more fuel and found none. Instinctively I sought out connections, hoping for any bits and scraps of rageworthy memories. Then I felt them, the watchers. While I had been basking in the glory of hatred that I was drawing from my own memories and visions of the world around me, I had gained an audience. I couldn''t see them, but I could feel them. Twenty connections, tightly held, barely more than what I would get from a stone.


    Even with the tiny connection available to me, they leaked glorious hatred. So much beautiful hatred. I had to have it. I tugged on their connections, dragging their attention to me. I could feel them coming closer and closer, encircling me, curiosity tinged their rage. They stopped, several feet away. They refused to open themselves to me. I could taste their rage, lives that had ended in rage. They wouldn''t share.


    My muscle tone went to water and I collapsed from my hands and knees to my side, bonelessly. The position on my side was irritating. Blood was dripping the wrong way now, across my right cheek to the ground, carving a new crimson path across my cheek made muddy by sweat, water, dust and dirt. All of the ghostly apparitions that I could see through the bright lights and dark spots swirling through my vision as I lay on my side were staring down at me. "Please, help me. I need it. To save the children. Some of them are your relatives."


    I heard Urist curse, and then walk away, muttering something about pathetic humans and it being a good day to die. He didn''t understand, and I fed my anger for his misunderstanding to the hatred.


    I tugged on the connections of my ghostly friends, gently, cajolingly, trying to encourage them to share their glorious hate with me, seducing them with offers to share my own hatred. I could feel their attraction to me, like moths to a flame, and it was growing stronger as trickles of rage passed between us like lovers'' notes. They drifted closer and closer to me, almost within reach, had I been able to move my arms.


    Ulok''s ghost reached out to me, hesitantly poking towards me with the club-arm that Crawler had ripped from him when I first summoned my dwarves. He was clearly preparing to make a physical connection.


    Time Stopped.


    A small, metallic device had intruded into my sphere of influence. I examined its composition and shape. A long tube of steel and aluminum, with strands of copper and hinged flaps on it''s sides and tail like a fish. Silicon and highly conductive metals of various sorts. Extremely complex chemicals wrapped around a sphere of uranium. Uranium.


    Fucking humans! I raged, uncontrollably, as I recognized that I was being attacked by a nuclear weapon. Based on its angle, it was targeted so that it would fly straight into the open entrance to my fortress. I had watched images of how precise guided weapons could be. I had no doubt that it would go exactly where they wanted it. A nuclear weapon aboveground was terrible. Below ground it would be a hammer of God, the enclosed space in the fortress entrance containing the blast, preventing it from pushing its energy into atmosphere as the path of least resistance. It would certainly cause a failure of the magma systems and free the nascent volcano under the fort to bleed out to the surface. If the explosion were sufficiently powerful, it might even crack the stone around the children''s bunker and allow the newly formed volcano to slowly cook them all alive as the magma slowly pushed its way down to them through the cracks.


    Making everything I''m trying to do now meaningless. Second triggering won''t save me from a nuke. Fury struck like a lightning bolt and I ripped the missile out of the sky and forced it into my amulet while greedily consuming the succulent fury and distilling it into a profound expansion of my hate. I felt something snap in my mind as the ecstasy of hatred grew too great to bear. Vaguely I felt my arms and legs thrumming against the ground.


    Distantly I heard a murmur of a score of voices, muttering in admiration. As blackness began to claim me, my body jumped time and time again as massive jolts of hate thrilled through me. I heard Ulok''s voice in my mind as the light at the end of the tunnel grew dim. "We gladly join ourselves to you, Overseer."


    **


    "Are you sure this is a good idea, Jack?" A girl''s voice spoke, next to me. "I''ve repaired the aneurism, but..."


    A mellow voice laughed, interrupting. "We never got an answer earlier, Bonesaw. I hate asking questions, and not getting answers. You think she will be able to speak?"


    I recognized the girl''s voice. Bonesaw. I was pretty sure I should be hating her, but I was a little fuzzy on why. It sounded like she had saved me. I listened as I floated upwards into consciousness and light, and within seconds a face in front of me began to come into focus. "Probably. The damage was mostly confined to her emotional centers. The stimulants will bring her up, but she''ll probably stroke out no more than a few seconds after regaining consciousness as the stimulants raise her blood pressure again. You''ll have to ask quickly, and she might not be quick to answer."


    My heartbeat was growing faster, and the light was getting brighter. I blinked.


    A kindly man''s face looked down at me, smiling gently. There was a striped hand touching his shoulder, and over that shoulder I saw a woman in a naked zebra-striped suit that was incredibly lifelike. I needed to ask her where she got it. Danielle would go bonkers over it, I knew.


    My eyes snapped back to the man''s face as he started speaking again. "Young lady, I''m afraid we don''t have much time left to talk. Where were we when we were so rudely interrupted before?"


    "I''m not sure, sir." I answered, trying to remember what he was talking about.


    My heartrate was going up, faster and faster. The light was getting painfully bright and I squinted a bit. A spot on my head felt weird.


    The man frowned, slightly. "Oh, yes. I remember where we left off. Was your sister your identical or fraternal twin? I think you said her name was Danielle?"


    Danielle. Images of pillow fights and birthday parties.


    Danielle. Playing twin games with guys in bars.


    Danielle. Walking in on her when she was in the middle of sex with one of her conquests.


    "Oh, I remember now. Danielle was my identical twin." I was pretty sure I was still forgetting something.


    Another memory clicked into place.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Danielle. Her body being dragged in front of me like a carcass in a PITA horror video.


    "Good, good. Thank you. That was all I wanted to know, dear." He raised himself from one knee beside me, his hand patting my cheek gently before he straightened fully.


    Another memory danced across my mind, and then several more in rapid succession. The light was so very bright, and my heart was beating so fast, so fast. I wished that the girl holding fire in her hands would put out the light.


    Then it struck me. How silly of me. "I remember something else, Mr. Slash. I almost forgot."


    "What was that, Krakatoa?" He smiled, and this time I could tell he was taunting me, but that was OK. I could tell there was something broken in my head, but I remembered what I needed to do.


    I patiently explained, "I promised myself that I would kill you."


    Mr. Slash responded with a look of mock surprise, accompanied by an open palmed hand across his chest. "Dear me, that is such a compliment." He bowed to me with a flourish. "I am flattered that you were able to remember that after all you have been through." I heard chuckles from various directions around me, and turned my head to see who was where.


    "I''m afraid that we need to go now, Krakatoa, and Bonesaw says you won''t be with us much longer." He flicked his fingers at me as I sat up, then did it again.


    "No, Mr. Slash, I won''t be with you much longer" I said as I stood, carefully, staggering a bit as I regained my balance.


    Another memory clicked into place, and I remembered Mannequin creating a rather poor quality engraving about me. Ah, perfect, I thought as I smiled brightly. Smiling just seemed like the right thing to do for some reason. "Mannequin figured out the basis for my cape powers, I remember that now."


    They were all staring at me, slowly moving towards Siberian, except for Crawler who was muttering "Oh boy, Oh boy, this is gonna be soooo awesome, I know it!! Volcano time!!"


    Jack made another flicker of motion with his fingers and his eyebrows furrowed a bit, but he kept smiling.


    It only took a couple seconds for all six of the fragile ones to reach Siberian and touch or be touched by her.


    I could feel emotions beginning to form again, and was glad for it. I''d hate to do this and not have fond memories of it.


    Crawler was dancing back and forth, practically bubbling with joy as he pranced from side to side on his spiked legs. I smiled at him. I wasn''t sure why. He got even more animated, spinning around like a child''s toy and singing some old song I didn''t know.


    Bonesaw was looking at me with wide open eyes. "Jack, she''s healing. It''s not me, and it''s happening piece by piece, instantly, like a jigsaw puzzle."


    Jack flicked his fingers at me again. I smiled at him and he flinched. That felt good. I smiled again, even bigger. He furrowed his brow.


    I looked at the white mechanical shell of a man who had just touched Siberian''s shoulder. After a half second of thought, I asked him a question that I was pretty certain would get the reaction I wanted. "Mannequin. Do you know what raws are?"


    There was no warning at all, no sign that he was going to attack me. The white-shelled mechanical hand that wasn''t gripping Siberian shot out at an amazing speed, and struck me, two fingers extended. One finger struck my right eye, the other my left. The hand fell to the ground, and quickly reeled back in by a thin chain.


    I blinked, and laughed, then shook my head and spoke to them in a conspiratorial tone. "I feel like such a cheater, you know. For years and years I played vanilla Dwarf Fortress. I never used any mods. I never save-scummed. I really loved the game the way Toady made it, warts and all. I learned the game and knew it better than anyone else I knew. I knew all my dwarves by name, I could draw my entire fortress on paper without having the game active."


    I mock frowned. "Now though. Now, you have finally made me a cheater." I raised my arm and touched my forearm to my forehead, looking away with a dramatic pose. "Alas, it starts with altering one human''s body and making them invulnerable, then erasing wounds."


    Cherish was staring at me. "Jack. I can''t feel her."


    I barely heard Bonesaw muttering to herself, while staring at me like a bug on a stickpin. "Second trigger. I knew it. I really need to cobble together some sort of monitoring equipment and try to see if I can force one."


    I continued complaining at them, my voice raising until I was yelling out loud in a mock-disgusted voice while barely containing my joy. "And then, THEN, I have the gall to start removing special abilities from other entities, so they will be easier to kill. Can you imagine that? Such a tragedy."


    None of them looked afraid.


    After a moment, Crawler said "Bored, bored, bored. C''mon, get on with it. Villains are supposed to soliloquy, not victims. Where''s the volcano?"


    "Fuck you, Crawler." I gestured at him, and he exploded into gibbets.


    Siberian smirked at me. The first expression I had seen on her face. Then I noticed that she wasn''t looking at me, she was looking at where Crawler had been.


    "This isn''t as fun as I''d hoped it would be." I commented as shattered pieces of white armor exploded away from the remains of Mannequin.


    Siberian and all the rest jumped, and stared at me.


    "Oh, that''s better." I walked around them, slowly, and they turned in place, all of them trying to keep me in view. Siberian looked a little confused. Jack''s fingers were twitching constantly. Bonesaw was watching one of her mechanical spiders crawling across the ceiling, trying to get close to me. I smiled at her, then her spider-thing exploded in gibbets, chitin, and shards of metal.


    I cast out my mind and found Urist nearby. He had been terribly mauled by Crawler or Siberian, but he was still alive. Vampires were damn hard to kill. I erased his wounds and repaired his armor. After a moment of indecision, I gave him his left hand back.


    I stopped circling them. "I''m really not that much into torture though. I''ll be happy to just kill most of you." I paused. "Except you, Jack. You, I think deserve a little torture."


    I gave Jack Slash invulnerability like I had already given to myself and Urist, and then raised the body temperatures of the rest of the other surviving S9 to about four thousand degrees. Scorched bone and vaporized blood billowed out from the epicenter of the explosion


    Wheee catsplosion. That was one thing I had always wanted to try.


    When the shockwave passed, I repaired the damage to the headstones and fortress walls and ceilings. As an afterthought, I cleaned up all the bodily remains. It wasn''t polite to leave trash in a graveyard. The dwarves would certainly not approve.


    Jack was wide-eyed, a knife in each hand, slashing wildly in every direction, muttering under his breath while breathing hard. "Illusion or a trick, has to be."


    I checked the ambient temperature around us and returned it to normal, then took away Jack''s invulnerability, and his ability to move. "No, Jack, it doesn''t have to be. You''re in my world now." I gave him a real big grin as I saw him realize he was paralyzed. This is more like it.


    Urist walked in, from where he had been peering around the corner of the doorway, looking at what was happening. "Are you done blowing things up yet, Overseer?" He asked, shaking his new left hand and making fists with it, like as if it had just fallen asleep. I stared at him. He was not faking nonchalance. He really was that calm. I was impressed. Killing 36,163 other sentients over 1043 years probably had something to do with his nonchalance towards death and mayhem.


    After nodding my head to answer his question, I said "All done with exploding things." I glanced at Urist with a smile, remembering a conversation with him while we had been discussing the individual members of the S9. "Urist. I believe I remember you saying that you wanted the chance to tell Jack what you thought about him. Feel free to do so, then kill him, please. I''m afraid I''d enjoy it too much, and I want you to have a bit of fun too."


    Urist tossed his axe into the air with his right had, and snatched if out of the air with his left, almost fumbling it. He looked back at me and said "You didn''t see that."


    "See what?" I smiled.


    "Nothing, never mind."


    As I hoped, Jack had actually grown angry again, as we bantered and treated him as a nobody. His ego was such an easy target.


    Urist walked up to Jack and started talking, like he was instructing a particularly dull student. "Jack, after reading all about you and hearing how terrible and fearful you were, I was shocked and dismayed to discover that you only had a few thousand confirmed kills to your name. Such a waste. I looked, and I saw no evidence that you had fully depopulate any urban centers. Not even any small towns. Not even one!" Urist turned his back on Jack for a moment, shaking his head slowly in disgust. "You were trying to be some sort of nightmare to the people of this world. But you''re pathetic. No vision."


    Urist turned back to Jack. "Over the last thousand or so years, I''ve slaughtered entire six towns by myself. Four of them because I didn''t like the beer. The last one because I thought someone had stolen one of my socks. After I got to the next town, I realized that I had put both of my socks on one foot. I was so amused with myself that I decided to celebrate and kill everyone in that town too. Funny, eh?"


    I didn''t release his paralysis. I didn''t really want to know if it was funny to him or not.


    As he slowly dragged his axe through Jack''s immobile neck, Urist smiled. "Tell Armok you''re a loser for me, Jack."


    As the head fell to the ground, I breathed a sigh of relief, cleaned up the mess, and then I stared at Urist as I repaired the gravestones he had broken. There had been about twenty voices inside my mind that had been enjoying themselves greatly over the last couple minutes. As I was repairing gravestones, they had started clamoring for me to kill Urist. As the gravestones were repaired, I felt the spirits depart me.


    I removed Urist''s vampirism. "Don''t say a single word, Urist. I''m not going to let you eat the children, and you would have been forced to, eventually.


    Remembering the missile, in my mind, I reluctantly adjusted a setting. [INVADERS: NO]


    My shoulders sagged. That just felt so wrong, somehow.


    I consoled myself. It''s for the children. I can turn it back on later.


    **


    Mannequin stood motionless, watching the rest of the group as they stared at each other in confusion. For the first thirty seconds or so after arrival, everyone except Siberian and himself had stood motionless, checking to make sure all their body parts were still there. He had already done an inventory without needing to move wastefully, of course, and was missing nothing.


    Siberian was walking around the boundary one way like a mime against an invisible wall. Crawler was going the other way, looking like a scorpion trying to climb the glass side of a terrarium. Mannequin was certain that the two of them were even more idiotic than he had previously thought, if they wanted to go back in there. The game had been an interesting challenge at one time, until he discovered that it was intentionally designed to be impossible to win. Still, it had been a fascinating simulation and had provided some amusement in his graduate student days, just seeing how the game evolved over time. Some parts had even been inspirational for his own early simulations.


    Jack Slash finally popped back into existence after everyone had gathered, and ones that would talk had started talking a little.


    Everyone went silent as he arrived. Nobody even moved as he rapidly checked himself for missing body parts, paying close attention to his neck. He looked up and beetled his brows while looking around at the rest of us, saw he was surrounded, and very clearly noted that nobody was in a good mood.


    Raising his arms in a shrug, Jack turned and stepped past Bonesaw, into the bus. "Well, that was certainly invigorating, wasn''t it? "Cherish, please close the back door after Crawler is back in the bus."


    Nobody moved. Jack stuck his head out of the bus door. "She cheated. Let''s not play that again. After you guys left, Urist had some very inspirational words for me. I want to share them with you all, and see what you think."


    Slowly, everyone started to move, looking at each other and nodding or shrugging. Even Siberian nodded. Mannequin was certain he was the only one that noticed Jack release the breath of air he had been holding.

 Overseer 2.5 - Epilogue

    Riley looked towards the magnificently carved coffins on the other side of the barrier. The burial receptacles of the S9 victims were meticulously arranged and the grounds surrounding them were precisely maintained to a standard that any Japanese rock gardener would envy. "Seriously Tattletale, I am NOT going in there. I''m not even touching that barrier. Krakatoa is nobody you want to talk to. I told you what she did. I know I did. She''s insane. Two hundred bloodthirsty fragments of a twice-triggered headcase."


    "Overseer, not Krakatoa." I corrected, "And I''m not going to ask you to enter. You are only here because it''s my turn to watch you, and I come back here every season to try this again." I really wish I were doing the negotiating instead of Dragon, but Dinah said she will be more generous with Dragon, when she finally chooses to trade, so that''s that.


    "I still think you are making a very serious mistake." Riley whined plaintively. "Dragon said the US military tried to send a tomahawk missile with a nuke in it into her base, and it never detonated. What if you piss her off and she drops it on us, or maybe she decides to try for Golden Morning Part Two?"


    We''ve gone over this at least ten times Riley, I thought to myself. "We''re pretty certain that she''s restricted to that area. You know full well Khepri would have yanked her out of there in an instant if she could have."


    Riley fired back. "Maybe Khepri couldn''t just reach in there. It''s pretty clear Scion didn''t bother her, for whatever reason. Seriously. Scary, scary cape, Tattletale. You''re playing with something that I know damn well you don''t understand. You''ve never seen her, and all we know about her from her parents and surviving friends is from before two triggers."


    My power told her that Riley really was as scared as she sounded. "Riley, what did Dinah say again?"


    Riley calmed down a lot, while muttering something under her breath that I pretended to ignore, then said, with gravitas "Still. Seriously. Scary cape. She turned Manton''s projection into a real person, then blew it up. I remember seeing Siberian explode into gibbets as my head flopped through the air. I do not know why she let us live. I think..." Riley started talking more and more to herself, glancing nervously towards the coffins every now and then. The bright red flags on stakes every few feet around the perimeter of the invisible barrier fluttered in the light breeze.


    I sighed and ignored Riley''s muttering and spoke louder. "We''ve told you this before, Riley. Manton Effect. She didn''t really blow you up, she just pushed you out of her sphere of influence. Her shaker ability created effects that made it seem like you were blown to pieces. For the Siberian, she simply denied Manton the ability to properly form his construct inside her area."


    Riley shuddered, her arms crossed over her chest. Clearly deep in thought and ignoring me.


    I poked her in the arm and she jumped, but started listening to me again. "Dragon and I have spent days working with Dinah. Unless you think we messed something up? Zero percent chance of her being able to leave her sphere of influence? Zero percent chance of her lobbing that nuke back out at us? 99.98% chance that anyone we send in to trade will not be killed, provided they don''t start a fight or have a power or body modification that gives them pointy ears or green skin? If you enter, yes, there''s a near certainty she''ll try to kill you, but you''re not entering. There''s a 74% chance of her responding favorably to a request to trade this season. So stop your whining."


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Riley shuddered. "You''re going to do it anyway." She turned away. "I don''t want to look. If I''m going to die here, I don''t want to see it coming."


    I threw the paper airplane at the barrier. Unlike humans, it passed through. On it was written a message.


    **


    Overseer,


    Your parents would like to see you, and pay their respects to the remains of your sister. We can have them here in one hour. We have trade goods with us now. Several vehicles full of exotic woods, precious metals, rare gemstones, and hundreds of samples of the best alcoholic beverages from ten dimensions. We also have various portable electronics with replacement batteries, equipment for a geothermal power source, and a fuel cell power storage system. As we have said for the last thirteen seasons, we really need your trade, especially tools. Trillions of people across hundreds of dimensions are struggling. You and your dwarves can make a difference to the lives of more people than you can probably imagine.


    **


    Five minutes later, a young, dark-skinned woman in sky blue armor approached hesitantly. I watched her look closely at the gathered rag-tag convoy with dozens of guards through the barriers, fifty vehicles of forty different sizes and shapes, from semi-tractors hauling exotic wood to armored cars carrying gems and bullion, all the way down the tech tree to horse-drawn wagons stacked high with small barrels and casks of alcohol.


    I stepped forward, closer to the barrier, drawing Overseer''s attention with my movement. I knew what the answer was already, but waited for her to actually make the gesture. After seeing the nod and beckoning hand, I waved Dragon and Colin forward and they started the convoy moving.


    As the trucks and carts began moving, the woman in blue armor turned her back on us all with a flourish of dozens of long, tight braids. As she walked towards the entrance to her fortress, she swung her arm over her head in a very clear gesture to follow.


    Smiling, I dialed a phone number where two parents were waiting. They had suffered rejection eight times before they had stopped coming with the convoys, afraid that somehow their daughter knew they were there, despite Dinah''s and my attempts to convince them otherwise.


    "Mr. and Mrs. Smith? Your daughter would like to see you." After two minutes of excited babbling from a male and female voice on two landline phones had calmed down, I continued. "Transport will be at your location in five minutes."

 Links to the game and the fiction

    OK, two things.


    First, I''m really, really irritated that Royal Road does not preserve italics and bolding from other text.  That Really Needs To Be Fixed IMHO.


    Second, is two links.


    First Link to Dwarf Fortress, which can be found here.</a>


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Second Link to Worm, which can be found here.</a>