^+ Nyx +^

She shuddered at his words. He wasn't... wrong, per se. But he also hadn't come nearly close enough to what she wanted him to understand. It wasn't his fault for being off the mark. Not at all. It was hers.

Still, he scraped at the far outer edges of what she so desperately desired to reveal, to offer, to apologize for. Her mouth parted and the intent to form the words welled within her, only to push against the limitation which punished her for attempting to dare speak of facts and history.

Reid was there, again, touching her hand to reassure her after the restriction ran its course. By the leviathan, she still couldn't even convey to him how ridiculous his actions were. Not that she wanted to, on this front. But still.

An involuntary shudder rolled through her, and she returned the squeeze to her hand. Her student had lost much of his anger and fire when he reacted to her latest convulsion, and she felt guilt. She had experienced that quite often, lately. It was only going to continue - and she needed to get a handle on that, or Reid was going to continue to worry over her. Not that she deserved it. For Reid, E-grade was a fantastical achievement. For her... well, suffice it to say, the grade increase allowed her to reclaim more of her own mind and memories, and not all of them were welcome.

She shook herself again, out of the guilt and her own sliding thoughts. They would have plenty of time for truths, eventually. After that, things would fall where they landed.

For the here and now, she just wanted to continue to help Reid. To cherish his company, help him grow, and reassure him where she could.

His guess was the system was broken, and that it hated him. It was, for now, pointed well enough in the right direction that the best thing she could do was encourage his train of thought.

"That's what I hoped you'd say," she lied. Nyx tried again to figure out how she could offer just a bit of the truth. For things to have devolved this far, that simple messages were impossible to send on a newly awakened planet - it implied conflict and death on a scale she didn't want to comprehend. She was immensely grateful when her words came without triggering a restriction. "The system isn't broken. More... overloaded. I'm not sure if hate is the right word for it, but the outcome is the same regardless. What both of those things mean, together, Reid, is that you should expect to see more... unfortunate scenarios, and other features and functions might be unavailable to us. I'm sorry."

Reid waved her apology away.

"It's not your fault. I'm the one with the shit luck and the skill that makes everything harder. And, really, this isn't all that surprising."

Nyx tilted her head at him. It had been quite obvious that the dawning understanding the system even could be 'broken' had knocked him for a loop.

"I mean, it's seemed like the system has hated me for a while, right? It practically told me at awakening that I was supposed to be dead, after all."

Her hand spasmed over Reid's involuntarily as she wondered how many words she could let fly before the restriction hit her. He took it as an intent to let go, and drew his hand back to himself. She could tell he was still conflicted and curious and worried about the situation. About everything it implied or could mean. But he steadied himself in minutes, and looked up at the ceiling to his metaspace.

"Well, whatever gets thrown at us, I'm sure we can take it on together. But - really... something intense - not just here, not just from me - must be going on to overload the system, right?"

Nyx tried to emulate his easy conviction, and the words he'd offered so coherently to Quinlan rose to the fore of her mind - "The most important step is the next one".

They would make it through this together. They were a team. And she was going to enjoy that as long as it would last.

-{///} Finola {///}-

Finola held the mirror at arm's length, carefully inspecting herself. Her three eyes were each a slight bit bloodshot, and her orange skin was dark with fatigue. She would need to overlay a mask during her next status update to Loz'ar. It would do her no good to show weakness. Not when she had so much left to gain.

The war was a beautiful thing. Set in motion with puppet strings so fine, even those who knew of them had trouble seeing the pull. A series of events so swayed and framed that even a recluse like Belar himself had come out in public. A final push, through the right greased wheels, that had achieved a seemingly laughable goal with relative ease.

And, to all but her ardent little asset from Earth, it was a machination of Finola's great mind. Sure, she had tweaked some elements of the plans to make things fall where they needed, but the baby progenitor came forward with most of the details sorted completely. Her only flaws came from personalities and power structures she couldn't possibly have known. Finola had been more than happy to fill in those gaps. It was yet another grand benefit from that once-problematic planet. Earth - and by extension Sara Calderwall - was the single best investment she'd ever made. The post-war estimates she and her teams had done so far put the benefit of taking over Belar's resources on an exponential curve. It would, in only a few hundred to a thousand years, eclipse the gains they'd made during the Ascheron Empire 'Acquisition'.

But before the riches could be counted, there was work to be done. That was why she found herself out at the edge of properly graded space, trading blows with Belar via a series of mercenary companies. It was an efficient way to war. The dead had a hard time complaining about unpaid wages, and the survivors would turn their eyes for bribes that were a fraction of what the payouts to the deceased's families would have been. The planet on table this week was some brown and green monstrosity where the locals were buried in tunnels like insects. Belar's orbital defenses were almost done, and they would have free reign to turn their cannons planetward. All the resources they wanted here were buried deep, so blowing away the surface structures would do no true harm. If any of the local inhabitants survived, she could even spin it as 'good paying jobs' to have them rebuild their former surface cities. Construction was always needed after conflict.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

A runner skidded to a stop outside her temporary office, and knocked politely. The message they delivered was written. On paper.

If there was one thing they couldn't have predicted, it was the system 'outages' they had suffered. She understood some of it. In times of high load, the system prioritized certain functions. Experience and evolutions were sacred. Awakenings were nearly as high. Quests, challenges, and the like were slightly lower than that, and then things got messy. Some system-energy-assisted functions worked better than others, and trial and error had led them to understand that even video exchanges and messages were still possible. It was just that they were now hellishly expensive. Hence the physical, paper-written updates. It was far cheaper, now, to have a lackey spend their time transiting to deliver non-critical information. Sending those same messages through system-aided networks was simply ridiculous waste. And unfortunately, nearly all of their networks relied on system aids.

So, when her tablet and interface buzzed an incoming live exchange a few hours later, Finola was dumbstruck into accepting the call - despite the caller.

"Finola! Darling. It's been ages. Eons. You don't know how much I've missed that scheming little head of yours."

She took a moment to peg herself to the woman's demeanor. Bettany had been a proper rival to her, once, but that was when they'd both been far younger, with different allegiances than their current employers. It may even be accurate to call the plotting witch an old friend. But the woman was deeply embedded in Belar's power structure, and the two of them were, technically, at war.

"Oh, Bet-bet, that's so wonderful to hear. You would see quite a bit more of me if you surrendered your sector. I could use another assistant, and you look capable enough to be fourth - no, third-in-line to be my top gal."

A momentary wrinkle in the corner of Bettany's eye told Finola she was winning.

"I have a better idea. Since we're such good old friends, you and I, it makes sense that we should strike a deal with one another. One where we both get something that interests us."

"Oh, honey - but I'm going to get everything anyway. Total war, and all that? We're going to continue to roll over everything Belar holds, slow, steady, and unavoidable as the tide. I would even go so far as to say the only thing you can offer is to save me time."

Another twitch. Finola wondered how far their two paths must have diverged for the woman to be this out of practice. It was an almost laughable display. The dripping sweetness faded off Bettany's face, replaced by the frustrated and angry visage that always came when the woman knew she wasn't getting what she wanted.

"Look, you and I both know there are toys in the box we haven't touched yet, because you haven't brought all yours out, either. This could drag on far longer than you want it to. I'm not offering you a planet, or some shiny trinket, Finola. I have something much more impactful to bargain with. Myself."

Finola found herself start to raise an eyebrow. Her expression schooled a moment later, but it had been enough. Bettany's grin was half-vicious.

"I knew you'd like that. Yes - the chip is me. My help, my insider knowledge, my influence to bring others in Belar to heel. You and I both know I have a knack for getting out ahead of the waves, and I can feel the water rising."

Finola took another look at the woman. This made more sense. It was a real reason to spend the absurd amount of energy required to place this call. And, even if she had dulled, Bettany had still once been one of the sharpest knives she'd ever encountered. Getting her onto Blasdej's side in this conflict would be an absolutely massive achievement. But she still hadn't heard the ask.

"Wow. Never thought I'd see the day you'd decide to be done pretending you were some noble from lordly Belar lineage. Tell me, how incestuous is the actual company stock now, anyway? Did they make you harden up the gene pool?"

A more dangerous expression flashed over Bettany's face for half a moment, and Finola mentally walked herself back. Family - the whole lot of it - was something Bettany had always been more serious about and protective of than Finola herself could understand. Relations were just relations, after all.

"My foul," she offered. It was a peace branch - and a callback to a time when the two of them hadn't been on the opposite sides of a deadly conflict. "I didn't realize anyone else bought in with you. Who was it? Brother, cousin, or sister?"

The woman bit the inside of her lip. "All of them, and my parents, too."

Finola nodded. They were getting to the meat of the ask, now. "So, I take it the ask is to find placement for them all once the war is done? Maybe get them out in the first place? I have a few teams that are good at leaving evidence behind. Your people would just need a name change. How deeply embedded are we talking about?"

Bettany waved a hand in the air with practiced grace. "I have everyone - well, almost everyone - accounted for. If you're interested in accepting the deal, I can give you times and places as we continue to grow our... friendship... again. Then all you need to do is pick them up. Glorified taxi service. There's only one that would be more involved. My niece, Beatrice, landed herself a position as head of an exploratory force. Frontier planet near the low-grade battle lines named Vuxarina. It's an awful little world. Newly awakened, hostile locals, and CCE-backed mercenaries on approach complicating the mix. I've already intervened for her once, and can't do it again without compromising my position here. She needs to get pulled out of the fire, maybe weeks or months from now, before things get too hot, and I need it done in a way that doesn't come back to me."

Finola could feel her hooks setting into the woman the more she spoke. "Under the nose of a CCE-backed cork force? That's too much of an investment to make on the promise of future cooperation, Bet. I'm going to need something tangible, now, if we want this to work. You need to play whatever cards you're still holding."

"Well now, that's blunt. But what kind of friend would I be to call you with all this and not offer a gift?" The woman grinned. "In fact, I've got a few for you. First, is a hardpoint map of the planet you're getting ready to try and glass. At least 4 bases that will survive your bombardments, with enough capacity to harass your forces. Second, I know you're a fan of that old algorithm of yours. I can give you all the data we've collected on outsiders and outliers over the awakenings since we licensed it from you - publicly known and off-the-books resource pulls. There's more than a few fun leads to chase down there for your recruiting teams - or to give to the nastier ones, if you feel like taking out threats. And last, but certainly not least, I can offer you something even more... appetizing."

She let the camera pan across a nondescript room with bare walls until it settled on a brightly lit corner. Two imposing automatons flanked a man handcuffed to a surprisingly ornate, comfortable looking chair. He had pale purple skin, interspersed with tan fur. A gag covered his wide mouth. One of his ears was pierced, and most notably, he was missing his nose. The camera lingered, then swiveled back to Bettany. The woman wrinkled one eye, with a self-confident smile.

"You've been slacking, Finny, if you would think I started this conversation without the win already in hand. A friendship should be rekindled on grounds of mutual trust, yes? Well, here we are. Go get my niece, keep working things from your side as I work them from mine, and when this is settled I'll give you the star witness from that farce of a trial you managed to use for kicking off this conflict. Thadden Wheatnick - and all the wonderful stories he's been spinning me - can be yours to do with as you please."

Finola felt the heat rise in her chest. Not because of her coached witness - but Bettany's use of him. Her wonderful game brought Finola excitement that she hadn't felt in far too long. A real, direct challenge. Her rival hadn't lost her edge, after all. She couldn't even begin to understand how Bettany had managed to find and capture someone in the protected identity program. But she knew what it meant. She wanted - no, needed Bettany to come to Blasdej's side, and she had a clear path to make it happen. All she had to do was put one more planet in her sights.

Finola let herself smile wide. This was going to be fun.

"Deal."

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