Valiant: Tales From The Drift

[Tails #17: The Sewers of Coreolis]

Log Date: 1/21/12764

Data Sources: Jazel Jaskolka, Lysanne Arrignis

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Dandelion Drift: Hangar

4:29am SGT

“Alright, I think that’s everything.” Lysanne says, tightening her gloves and looking around the skipper’s bay. “Milor, are you suited up?”

“Don’t rush me, blondie.” Milor says, sauntering up the ramp of the skipper as he fumbles with his neck gaiter. “You’d think we were suiting up for a blizzard with all this.”

“It’s necessary.” Lysanne replies, making her way to the skipper’s cockpit, where I’m finishing the preflight checks. “Shanarae only need a single touch, skin on skin, to rip years of life from you. If they see you have anything exposed, they’ll go straight for that.”

“I know what Shanarae can do, kid.” Milor says, pausing to check the crate in the skipper’s bay. “You don’t need t’read me the riot. You got all the ‘quipment we’re gonna need down there?”

“Everything we should need for the assignment should be in that crate, yeah.” Lysanne replies over her shoulder, then looks to me. “You ready, Jazel?”

I nod quietly. “Yeah. Engines are warming; we’ll be ready to go once the ramp is up.”

“You sure?” Lysanne asks. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

I give a laconic shrug. “Just early in the morning. Still not fully awake.”

“Alright. If you say so.” Lysanne says, turning on the comms. “Dandy, this is Lysanne. Engines are warming, ramp is closing in a couple. Do we have the lane reserved for atmospheric reentry?”

“The Coreolis planetguard has authorized a descent corridor for you. I will forward the trajectory to your navcom.”

“So we’re not taking the fox along on this one?” Milor says, ducking into the cockpit and looking around. “Senses like hers, and as powerful as she is, she could probably have it sewn up in a second.”

“We didn’t want to risk her, what with how dangerous Shanarae are.” I say, starting the ramp’s closing sequence.

“Ain’t that cute. He’s feelin’ protective.” Milor says, slapping the back of my chair. “Well, I’ll be in coach if y’all need me. Try to keep the turbulence to a minimum.”

With that, he steps out, while Lysanne starts to bring up the pilot controls. With my part done, I lean back in my chair, taking a deep breath and trying not to dwell on Milor’s words, and what Kayenta had said to me a week and a half ago.

If we were attacked, could you protect me? Could you even protect yourself?

“Alright, ramp’s up.” Lysanne says, glancing to me. “Ready to go, Jazel?”

“Yeah.” I say quietly. “Ready to go.”

Dan Splainsworthy’s Encyclopedia of Sentient Galactic Species

Shanarae

As one of the oldest known species in existence, the Shanarae predate all but the humans that are their primary food source. Thought to be the precursors of modern-day vampires, the Shanarae have a long history and a rich culture, though much of it has been lost in the dying twilight of their species.

In the physical regard, Shanarae are largely indistinguishable from humans. The only tangible feature which sets them apart is a certain homogeneity in hair and eye color; all Shanarae possess black hair and violet irises. Beyond that, they come in a range of skin colors and sizes, just as humans do, and possess essentially the same physical propensities. They are, however, capable of living for hundreds or even thousands of years in a state of preserved youth, which is made possible by their ability to siphon life from organic lifeforms.

This siphoning is arcane in nature, though the origin of the mechanism is unknown and theorized to have been the result of divine tampering or engineering in the distant past. While the siphoning is limited to physical touch, skin to skin, it is extremely efficient, such to the point that a Shanarae can kill a mature human with two or three seconds of full hand contact. The stolen life is used to sustain the Shanarae at whatever age they happen to be at the time; though it can prevent a Shanarae from aging, it cannot reverse it. If a Shanarae does not siphon regularly, they will begin to age, and eventually die of old age as a human would.

Occupying the role of a deadly apex predator has shaped Shanarae culture to a considerable extent, and largely to the detriment of species that must share space with them. Early Shanarae built empires and established systems of control that ensured that subjugate races not only served, but venerated them. Shanarae philosophy emphasized a manifest right to rule that was predicated on the concept of racial superiority, with the rights of prey species being subordinate to the rights of predator species. This philosophy was propagated among the Shanarae race at large, and though it received pushback from fringe factions of the Shanarae race, these voices were usually silenced in a permanent fashion, as they represented a threat to the Shanarae orthodoxy of thought.

The result has been the slow self-destruction of the Shanarae race over many aeons. The concept of manifest right to rule has evolved to adapt to each era of technological advancement, but was never truly reasoned away; Shanarae assumed a right to feed on other species as they desired. Stuck in a cycle of residing in or near populations that would eventually react violently after growing tired of being fed on, the Shanarae slowly dwindled, and suffered a considerable decline after the formation of the Vaunted, whose creation was meant to rein in supernatural crimes and enforce parity among the various species of the galaxy.

In the current day, the Shanarae are considered critically endangered. It is believed there are less than fifteen thousand individuals left galaxywide, with many now living on preserve worlds where they can be monitored by the Vaunted. Shanarae communities on preserve worlds are on the generations-long project of overhauling the foundations of their culture, and trying to reeducate the Shanarae that still subscribe to the old philosophy. Those Shanarae that still live outside the preserves often exist on the fringes of society, employed in the criminal element as assassins, or finding ways to hide among galactic populations, passing themselves off as ordinary individuals while carefully and discreetly preying on the populations they reside in.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Coreolis: Shinigasi Sewers Access Point

7:19am SGT

“Normally we don’t outsource this kind of work, but we’ve lost four officers down there.” the sheriff says as Jazel, Milor, and myself all shuffle our way into waders. “We still haven’t found the bodies of the last two. City Hall folded when I told them they could be the ones that delivered the bad news to families of the next officers that turned up dead or never came back.”

“Don’t y’all have a mage officer on hand?” Milor asks as he starts tightening the straps on his waders. “City this big, you’ve gotta have at least one.”

“There was an incident last year that put a lot of officers on medical leave and convinced others to walk.” the sheriff says, moving to the table that’s got full-cover breathing masks on it. “It’s brought the force’s numbers down, and we still haven’t fully covered the gap. It takes time to train a peace officer, and neighboring precincts have their own problems to deal with. They’ve loaned us a couple, but there’s been no permanent transfers.”

“Our condolences.” I say as I finish tightening my waders. “We’ll do our best to get this resolved for you.”

“I’d appreciate that. Just don’t take more risks than you have to.” he says, coming back over to hand us our breathing masks. “I figure you all are better equipped for the job than we are, but even so, it’s a Shanarae. I’ll be keeping a unit on site here, in case you need to retreat back to the surface. Our comms don’t do too hot underground, so if you call for help, we probably won’t hear it — so don’t get in over your head.”

“You don’t need this leech brought in alive, do you?” Milor says, checking his pistol.

“Alive is preferred but not required. They constitute an active threat to the community, so if it comes down to a choice between bringing them in dead or not bringing them in at all, I’d rather have them brought in dead.” the sheriff says as I take my breathing mask from him and start pulling it on. “And one more thing before you go.”

“Yeah?” I say, starting to tighten the straps on my mask.

“Don’t get yourselves killed. I got enough to deal with already.” he says, folding his arms. “Good luck down there.”

I nod, and turn to see that Jazel’s already starting down the manhole, with Milor waiting beside it. I head over to join them, tapping my mask to make sure it’s functioning; while I’m waiting to Milor to start in, I check my deckholder, which I’ve repositioned to the shoulder strap of my waders, then my bone bracelet, and the array of vials I’ve got in my jacket. By the time I’m done with that, Milor’s descended into the manhole, and it’s my turn.

In the tunnel below, I find that Jazel and Milor are waiting for me. “Gods, it’s rank down here.” I mutter, stepping off the latter and onto the tunnel floor. “Figured the smell wouldn’t be so bad if there wasn’t any standing water.”

“Oh, there’s standing water, it’s just not here.” Milor mutters, turning on the lights on his mask. “Smell’s coming from the lower levels, where there is standing water.”

“The masks don’t filter out the smell, they just filter out the fumes.” Jazel says, his phone out and already studying the map of the sewers that the police department has provided to us. “The police marked out the lines on the sewer map where their two teams have gone missing. Seems like a good place to start.”

“Ah yes. So we know exactly where to go to put ourselves in danger.” Milor says, drawing his pistol and checking the plasma cell.

“We’re not going to find it by avoiding it.” Jazel says, turning around as he studies the sides of the tunnel.

“Alright, everybody covered?” I ask, checking my neck gaiter and my gloves, then making sure my balaclava is covering my entire head. “No exposed skin?”

“Yeah, and I’m already sweatin’ like a pig.” Milor mutters. “If I don’t die o’ heatstroke, then the leech can put me out of my misery.”

“I’m covered, yeah.” Jazel says, turning around towards Milor. “It looks like we’ll be heading down this side of the tunnel on our way to the sewer line where the first pair of officers was found dead.”

“Right then.” I say. “Jazel, you stay in the middle, since you’ve got the map. Milor, you’ll lead, and I’ll bring up the rear. I don’t usually say this, but… if we come up on it and it moves to attack, then shoot to kill.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that from you, blondie.” Milor says as he starts down the tunnel in the direction Jazel indicated. “Thought you Preservers were all about preserving endangered species.”

“Not it it means dying for it.” I reply, following behind them. “And even if they are endangered, there are some members of certain races that don’t deserve to be preserved.”

“Good to know.” Milor replies as we start to delve into the depths of the sewers. “In that case, you can leave the exterminatin’ to me.”

The Grand Compendium of Aurescuran Spells, Ninth Edition

Honeycomb Shield

So named for its appearance, the Honeycomb Shield spell is a modern invention, having no comparable cognate among the canon of defensive spells that existed during the Old Cycle. Created by a government-funded research group two hundred years ago, the spell’s use has expanded considerably over the last century as it has been refined by other research groups, and adopted as a common tool in the arsenal of various Aurescuran peacekeeping and military groups.

The application of the Honeycomb Shield is not new, unique, or complicated; its purpose is to protect, just the same as other shield spells to precede it. It is the mechanism which sets it apart from other shield spells; where other shield spells typically generate a single large pane, or multiple panes layered atop each other, Honeycomb instead generates dozens of hexagons arranged in a grid, with each one effectively an individual shield. Standard shield spells, when they reach their kinetic limit, tend to shatter and dissipate, suddenly leaving the caster without protection. By contrast, Honeycomb shields break bit by bit, with the hexagonal panes rearranging themselves to fill in gaps left by shattered panes. As a result, Honeycomb shields tend to last longer, though their protection diminishes as the shield ‘shrinks’ due to the loss of individual panes in the grid.

Though largely utilized for individual use in local police and strike forces, variations on Honeycomb have been created and used on larger scales in military contexts, usually as a protective measure for artillery positions or other heavy vehicles. Funding has been provided for research attempting to scale up Honeycomb for use on interstellar vessels in Aurescura’s fledging military fleet. Though the research remains top-secret, it is believed that test runs of the spell have already taken place, with some pundits and observers insisting that implementation may only be a few years away.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Coreolis: Shinigasi Sewers

8:32am SGT

“Y’know, technically speaking, a sewer is just a giant toilet.”

“Thank you for that remarkable insight, Milor.” I say as I circle around the hub where several sewer lines meet. We’re waiting for Jazel to figure out which way we need to go. “Are there any other gems of knowledge you’d like to share with the class today?”

“Not really, but I figured that if a sewer is just a giant toilet, you could take a piss anywhere and it would be kosher.” he says, sizing up one of the tunnels.

It’s a moment before it clicks, and when it does, I turn to him in disbelief. “Is this your way of telling us you need to take a piss?”

“Hey, look who’s a smart blonde.”

“Unbelievable.” I mutter. “I told you to go to the bathroom before we left because it was likely we’d be down here for a while.”

“You also told me to hydrate, because we’d be down here for a while.”

“You did them in the wrong order! You hit the bathroom, and then you hydrated, not the other way around!”

“Look, blondie. I don’t think tactically about my piss schedule. When nature calls, you gotta answer. Figured you’d know all about that, since you’re a Preserver.”

“We need to head down this tunnel.” Jazel says from where he’s standing in front of one of the hub’s exits. “It leads down and it’ll take us towards the line where the other two officers disappeared.”

“Well, before we get started on that, Milor needs to take a piss.” I say, moving towards the tunnel Jazel’s indicated. “We won’t do it out here in the open, we’ll do it in the tunnel. Fewer angles we can be ambushed from. Milor, you get in the middle. Jazel and I will stand watch on either side while you’re going.”

“C’mon, blondie, it’s only gonna be a couple minutes.” Milor complains as I push him along towards the tunnel. “No need to stand watch while I’m taking a piss.”

“Your skin’s going to be exposed during those couple minutes. We’re not going to take any chances, especially with a Shanarae.” I insist as Jazel moves into the tunnel a little ways, putting away his phone so he can keep watch on his end of the tunnel.

“Seriously?” Milor says as I finish pushing him into the tunnel. “Unless this leech plans to run up on me, grab my dick and suck my life out through my balls, I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, well I’m not willing to risk that.” I say once I’m in the tunnel, turning around so my back’s to Milor and I can keep an eye on the hub. “This Shanarae might be desperate, and desperation makes you do crazy things.”

“Fine. If it makes you feel better, you can stand watch while I’m doin’ my business.” he grumbles, unbuckling his waders. “Also, why don’t these waders have a crotch zipper?”

“That would defeat the point of being waders, because then liquid would seep through the zipper.” Jazel says tersely.

“Yikes, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

“Just do your business, Milor.” I sigh, fingers tapping at my deckholder.

“Alright, alright.”

Over the next minute or so, there’s no sound but the background ambiance of the sewers and the sound of Milor wrestling with his waders and zipper. Then, of course, the telltale splatter of liquid hitting the wall of the tunnel. It runs longer than I was expecting, and then halfway through: “So, blondie, how are you and strawberry soda getting along?”

“Are you seriously—” I sputter, almost turning around in indignation and then remembering that I don’t want to do that. “Are you seriously asking me about my relationships while you’re taking a piss?”

“I mean, I thought it’d be kinda awkward for you guys to just stand here and listen to it, so I figured I’d try to break the ice.”

“You know what’s even more awkward? You! Asking me about my relationships! While you’re taking a piss!”

“Ah, so you’re admitting you’re in a relationship with her?”

“That’s not—” I cut myself off as I curl my hands into fists, bringing them up and taking a deep breath. “Ooooh, I swear to god I would turn around and deck you so hard if you didn’t have your junk out right now.”

“Good to know. Next time you’re nagging me I’ll just whip out my junk to scare you off.”

“Do that and you’ll end up with your junk detached from the rest of you.”

“Well, I guess we know why you think the Shanarae would run up on me and grab my dick, since you’re threatening to do the same.”

“That’s it. You’re on dailies for the next week.” I say, then realize he’s still going. “Good grief! Are you still pissing? How much do you have in there?”

“You told me to hydrate!”

“Quiet!” Jazel hisses at both of us. “I hear something.”

I freeze, hunching down a little and staring out into the hub. I don’t know what Jazel’s heard, but I can’t hear anything yet, except for the splash of Milor’s piss against the tunnel wall.

“Milor!” I hiss back at him. “Stop it!”

“Good grief, woman, can’t I finish pissing?”

“I can’t hear anything over the sound of the biblical flood behind me!” I growl back at him.

Milor mutters sulkily, and the sound of splattering eventually peters off, whether through intention or the fact that he’s finally run out. As he starts zipping up and shuffling his waders back on, I start to hear the echo of boots growing closer, coming from one of the tunnels connecting to the hub.

“People are coming.” I hiss over my shoulder, before crouching to one knee to reduce my profile and give Milor a clear line of view over my head. Reaching up, I press two fingers to the top card my deckholder, pulling it halfway out as the sound of bootsteps gets louder and closer.

It’s another twenty seconds before the source comes into view from one of the left tunnels of the hub — a group in black military gear, equipped with breathing masks of their own and coilgun rifles. Considering the body armor they’ve got on and the grenades they have clipped to their belts, they’re way better equipped for a fight than we are, but they’re obviously not what we’re looking for. When they swing their rifles in our direction, I realize that I forgot to turn off the headlights on my breathing mask.

“Contact!” the one in front shouts, jerking his coilgun up. “Hands in the air! Don’t move!”

“Hey, wait, whoa!” I shout back, putting my hands up as the others in the group start to fan out in the hub, aiming their rifles down their tunnel. “Relax! Relax! We’re not here to hurt you!”

“Identify yourselves!” orders one of the shorter soldiers in the back.

I squint. “We’re Preservers contracted with CURSE! We were sent down here to hunt a Shanarae. Who are you all?”

One of the soldiers lowers his rifle a bit. “Oh, for crying out loud. They’re just Preservers, guys.”

There’s groans from the other soldiers in the unit, which looks to be about six strong. They start to ease up, lowering their rifles and taking fingers off triggers as the shorter one in the back reaches up and pulls her filtration mask off, letting loose a shock of flameorange hair. It takes me a moment, but then I realize that it’s Tashilo, the Vaunted captain that was originally sent to deal with Kayenta, and then Ozzy.

Behind me, Milor crows and pulls off his breathing mask. “Hey carrots! Still comin’ in second place?”

On seeing Milor, Tashilo closes her eyes and tilts her head back. “Good goddamn, please no. What did I do to deserve this.” she groans, massaging her forehead.

Milor moves around me and out into the hub. “We gotta stop meeting like this. I like what you’ve done with your hair, by the way. Letting it grow out?”

Tashilo whirls on him, her teeth gritted as she jabs her finger into his chest. “You are lucky I haven’t slapped cuffs on you after the last two times you bungled my assignments. What the hell are you and your redneck clownshow doing down here? And I swear to the gods, if you say you’re down here to catch the Shanarae—”

“CURSE sent us to catch the Shanarae.” Jazel says and both him and I step back into the hub.

Tashilo throws her filtration mask down. “No!” she shouts, pointing at Jazel, then at Milor and myself, repeating the word each time. “No! And no! I don’t care what CURSE has told you to do, you don’t have jurisdiction here!”

“I mean, actually we do…” I say, folding my arms. “Besides, what’s the big deal? If you guys are after the Shanarae, that means we have the same target. We can work together.”

“What’s the big deal?” Tashilo repeats back to me, throwing a hand out. “The big deal is your group screws up every assignment you interfere in! First Vissengard, then Talingrad, and now this. What are you going to do this time around, try to take in the Shanarae and hide him on your ship just like you did with the morphox and the necromancer?”

“We were going to kill this one like we were told to, thank you very much.” Milor retorts, holstering his pistol. “Once we found them, that is.”

“Yeah, sure.” Tashilo scoffs, turning away. “Well, we’re here now. You can take your kids and run back up to the surface; we’ll take it from here.”

“Um, no.” I say at this point. “CURSE sent us down here to catch or kill a Shanarae. That’s what we’re gonna do. If you want to tag along, you’re free to do so.”

Tashilo gives me an incredulous look. “Excuse me? ‘Tag along’? You’re lucky I haven’t arrested you for interfering in Vaunted operations twice now!”

“I mean, since we got there first both times, technically the Vaunted were interfering with CURSE operations.” Milor points out.

“Watch the sass, skippy.” Tashilo growls at him. “I’ve got a set of cuffs with your name on them, and I’ve been dying for a reason to break them out.”

“They wouldn’t happen to be fuzzy and pink, would they?” Milor replies without missing a beat.

“The longer we talk, the longer it takes to find the Shanarae.” Jazel suddenly declares from the back of our group. “I’m tired. I’m hungry. I want to go home, and this place literally smells like shit. Are you going to help us find the Shanarae or not?”

Tashilo looks around Milor at Jazel. “And what do you know about hunting Shanarae, kid?”

“We have a map of where the dead officers disappeared or were found.” Jazel answers. I notice he’s scowling, and I realize that Milor was right. For some reason, Jazel did wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, which might explain why he’s been so quiet. “We’re heading down this tunnel whether or not you like it. You can stay here or you can follow us, but we’re going now.”

With that, he turns and starts back into the tunnel. I twist and scramble to get after him. “Jazel, wait! You can’t just go walking off into the tunnel like that, you need someone taking point in case you come up on the Shanarae.”

He pauses and steps to the side of the tunnel without looking up from his phone. “Be my guest, then.” he says.

“What is wrong with you today?” I ask as I move ahead of him. “You’re moody. Did something happen?”

Jazel’s eyes dart away from his phone, and after a moment, he looks back over his shoulder to see that Milor’s still talking to the Vaunted and motioning down the tunnel that we’re in. “It’s nothing.” he mutters as Milor starts to come down the tunnel, with the Vaunted falling in line behind him. “Let’s get this over with. I just want to get back to the ship.”

I want to push it, but I know he’s not going to want to talk about it with Milor and a bunch of strangers listening. “Alright then.” I say, starting down the tunnel ahead of him. “Let me know where to go.”

“Just keep heading down this tunnel. There’s going to be a split in a bit; we’re going to take the right fork.”

“Right fork. Got it.”

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Coreolis: Shinigasi Sewers

12:24pm SGT

“Y’know, after four hours of putting up with the smell, you kinda don’t notice it anymore.” Milor says, taking another bite of his granola bar.

“Speak for yourself.” I mutter. We’re both leaning on the railing of one of the many catwalks that crisscrosses the atrium; at the moment our combined group is taking a lunch break. Three of the Vaunted soldiers are standing guard, watching the tunnel entrances that lead to atrium, while the rest of us rehydrate and break our teeth on stale granola bars.

“Maybe I’m just a little more used to it after summers spent on my grandfather’s farm.” Milor says, still gnawing on his granola bar. “The livestock stunk to high hell, but you just got used to it after a certain point. You had to get used to it, since you had to work with them every day.” He looks up and around, studying the many pipes in the walls that end here, emptying out into their atrium on their way to the water treatment plant. “You could always get away from it, though. It didn’t surround you the way it does here.”

“I can’t imagine living down here.” I say, staring at my half-eaten granola bar. “Living in the filth and stench, day and night. Where do you sleep? And what do you do when you’re not sleeping?”

“Wherever the leech is, he’s probably got some nook or cranny he can pop into.” Milor theorizes, cramming the rest of his granola bar into his mouth. “As for what he does when he’s not sleeping… goes topside and finds some homeless people to rip the life out of, since nobody’s gonna miss them. That’s the whole reason we got sent here in the first place, isn’t it? Homeless population was dropping and they couldn’t figure out why until they realized it was because people were disappearing, not because they were magically climbing out of the poverty bracket.”

I snort. “Upward economic mobility in an unregulated capitalist society? Next you’re gonna tell me the tooth fairy’s real.”

“Whoa there, boss. Take it easy. Put that sassy college education away before it gets you into trouble.”

“I’m just observing an inconvenient truth.”

“Yeah, well people don’t like it when you pull back the curtain and show ‘em that their hard-earned wealth ain’t actually hard-earned, it’s just collected by rigging the system so they don’t have to pay their fair share.” he says, straightening out his empty wrapper and looking around the atrium until his gaze falls on Jazel, eating alone on the walkway rimming the atrium. “Y’know what’s up with the kid? He’s been in a mood all day.”

“I was going to ask you, actually.” I say, taking another bite of my granola bar. “I hadn’t noticed anything wrong with him before this. Part of me thinks it’s just because he had to get up so early, but I dunno. Maybe it’s something more.”

“Maybe it’s something to do with his fox. Hard to tell, though. Sometimes I don’t think she’s got anything but butterflies between those fluffy ears of hers.” Milor says, starting to fold the wrapper over on itself.

“That is a derogatory statement that I reluctantly agree with more than I should.” I mutter past my granola bar. “Not gonna lie, I envy her sometimes. She just floats through life, not a care in the world aside from getting her next feeding from Jazel. It must be nice.”

Milor shrugs. “She’s a simple creature. All she had to do for four centuries was find someone to feed on every five years, and spend the rest of it sleeping when she wasn’t wanderin’ around. She’s almost more an animal than she is a person. Animals don’t worry about things like ethics, or politics, or legacy… they just live for the day, and then the next day after that, and then the day after that.”

I consider that, then look at him. “Shouldn’t we teach her to be something more? Show her there’s more to life than just living day to day?”

“Ignorance is bliss.” Milor says, flicking his folded wrapper over the railing. “You wanna take away her bliss?”

“Whoa, hey, what are you doing?” I demand as the wrapper flutters down into the darkness, unfolding as it goes. “C’mon man, really?”

“What, it’s biodegradable!” Milor protests. “Said so right on the wrapper!”

“Yeah, if properly disposed of!” I say, flipping over my bar to read from the wrapper. “Biodegradable. Please dispose in the proper receptacle. Does the bottomless pit beneath us look like a proper receptacle to you?”

“C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen.” Milor scoffs. “It’ll probably get caught in one of the water treatment’s filters and break down over time. No big deal.”

“Yeah, that’s the exact thing I’m sure you and dozens of other people have told themselves.” I say, taking another bite of my granola bar. “When a dam bursts after a heavy rain, no single drop believes it is to blame for the flood.”

“Ooooh, look who’s breaking out the eco-mysticism proverbs.” Milor says, rolling his eyes. “You got a moral parable about the evils of industrialism to go with that?”

“I got the moral parable of mah boot goin’ up yo ass in just a moment.” I mutter, my eyes wandering to where Tashilo’s conferring with some of her soldiers. “What’s up with you and carrots? Seems like you’re sweet on her.”

Milor shrugs, going back to leaning on the railing. “She’s cute. I’ve got a thing for little spitfires. There was this spicy little werecat assassin that I knew back in the service—”

“Alright, I’ve heard all I need to hear.” I say, holding up a hand. “I get it, you want to get between her sheets. But honestly, you really think you’ll score with a Vaunted captain?”

“What can I say, the kid’s inspired me.” Milor says, fishing a toothpick out of his jacket and using it to pick bits of granola from between his teeth. “If he’s got the courage to chase a soul-stealing murder vixen that’s three centuries his senior, what’s to keep a dashing outlaw like myself from courting a hardened woman of the law?”

I give him a flat look. “Well, to start, that ego of yours seems like a pretty sizable obstacle.”

“Confidence is attractive.”

“Attracts a boot to your ass, maybe.”

“You’re just jealous of my rugged good looks and my roguish charms.”

“Quite the opposite. I pity the fool that gets caught in your sheets.”

Milor snorts, taking a sip from his canteen. “Says the one who wouldn’t know how to have fun if her life depended on it.”

My jaw drops. “Oh, I don’t know how to have fun, do I?”

“As much fun as a corpse at a birthday party, blondie buzzkill.”

I shake my head, going back to leaning on the railing. “Unbelievable. Gonna make you eat those words one day.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

An echoing laugh cuts into our conversation, causing us to look up along with the other Vaunted and Jazel. It ripples around the dim emptiness of the atrium, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Tired already? You’ve only been fumbling around for a few hours.”

“Masks on, weapons free!” Tashilo shouts, rushing to get her filtration mask back on. The other Vaunted do the same, yanking their gloves back on and making sure their skin’s covered, and I fumble to get my balaclava back over my head and my breathing mask on over it. Beside me, Milor grumbles and pulls his toothpick out of his mouth.

“How very cute, covering up like a gaggle of Anayan nuns. Afraid to show a little skin, are we?” The voice is definitely male, but I still can’t figure out where it’s coming from. The way it echoes, it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from the tunnels, but the drainage pipes that empty into the atrium. Securing my breathing mask, I look over to Jazel to see he’s getting his neck gaiter pulled on.

“You’re one to talk.” Tashilo calls back up into the air as she flicks the safety off on her rifle. “What’s wrong, you’re afraid to show your face?”

“All in good time. We need to set the mood lighting first.” the voice echoes back. Around the atrium, the lights start to flicker and waver; they don’t go out completely, but they’re heavily snuffed, the shadows against the walls growing much longer and deeper.

“Buddy up!” Tashilo orders to her soldiers. As Milor finishes tightening his breathing mask, I back up against him, reaching up to my deckholder and pulling a card free while he draws his plasma pistol.

“You ready?” I murmur.

“Hard to be ready when I don’t know what I’m supposed to be ready for.” he mutters back, charging his pistol.

“Ready for anything, then.” I say, flipping the card over to see it’s the jack of oceans. “At least I know I’ll be starting off strong.”

Before Milor can reply, something trailing a shroud of black smoke goes arcing through the air from one of the drainage pipes, and then another and another. Two are headed for the pairs of Vaunted, and explode into a swirling nimbus of darkness when it hits the platforms and catwalks they’re standing on. The third one never reaches Milor and myself, because he jerks his pistol up and squeezes off a single shot, nailing the projectile dead in the air. It explodes in the middle of the atrium, streaks of darkness flying everywhere, but not shrouding us like it’s done to the other pairs of Vaunted.

“They’re comin’ from the pipes!” one of the Vaunted soldiers shouts, raising his rifle and squeezing off a burst of coilgun spikes. I turn to see dark outlines dropping from the pipes around the atrium, and I can see, by the muzzle flash of the rifles, that they’re at least vaguely human. With how dark it is in here, it’s hard to really tell.

“Focus, blondie.” Milor says, firing a shot over my shoulder. I look back down the walkway to see one of our attackers halted by taking a plasma bolt to the shoulder from Milor’s pistol; I throw my card without thinking. Slicing through the air, it explodes the moment it hits him, eight or nine swimming pools’ worth of water released in a sudden, violent burst. It slams our attacker back against the atrium wall, but the weight of all that water exploding outwards hits the catwalk hard enough to rip the railings right off that section of the catwalk and dent it downwards in a metal-bending v-shape. Milor and I find ourselves knocked flat on our backs as the walkway slants beneath us, with a veritable fountain of water raining down across the entire atrium.

“Lawd ha’ mercy, blondie!” Milor grunts, scrambling backwards to a section of the walkway that’s not threatening to cave. “Overkill much?”

“I’ve told you before, it’s randomized. I can’t pick what card I draw.” I grumble, using the railing to pull myself after him. The sound of coilgun bursts echoing in the atrium is deafening, and out of the corners of my eyes, I can see our attackers flitting through spots of shadow, appearing nearly anywhere they want. “Shit. This is definitely more than one Shanarae.”

“Shanarae can’t shadowstep like this.” Milor says, getting back to his feet and helping me up. “Somethin’ ain’t right. We’ve been played.”

“A remarkably self-aware observation from someone that was never the brightest bulb in the box.” says a voice from the tunnel nearest to us. We both whirl around to see someone stepping out of the shadows — a man with grey hair, wearing a greatcoat, and carrying a stately cane. He seems familiar, but I can’t quite place him until Milor replies.

“Grimes. Fancy seeing you here.” Milor says, lifting his pistol. “You’re a long way from Vissengard, mayor.”

“Travel is good for the mind. It broadens one’s horizons.” Grimes says, raising his free hand and flicking it. A glint of red light whips through the air, thickening as it goes, and wraps around Milor’s gun wrist, yanking it down to the catwalk railing and tying it there. “Though I’ll admit no amount of travel could ever wring the whiskey-soaked redneck out of you. Too busy looking for a drink and a girl to see what’s right in front of you.”

“A good drink and a bad girl are two of the finest things life has to offer.” Milor grunts, trying to free his hand from the crimson binding that’s got it tied to the railing. “Now if you’d quit the evil wizard routine, that’d be much appreciated.”

“No, I don’t believe I will.” Grimes says, glancing across the atrium to size up the state of the battle. “I quite like you right where you presently are. Which is to say helpless, and not causing problems for me.”

I glance as well to see that the combination of darkness and shadowstepping has proved to be a major problem for the Vaunted, who aren’t doing too great. At least one of the soldiers is unmoving on the catwalk; a couple others are injured, and the rest are trying to hold their own against what I now suspect are Grimes’ elf gang. Though there’s only four of them, it’s clear that they’re experienced combatants, with how fast they move and how aggressive they are.

And one of them’s got Jazel, dragging him back towards one of the tunnels leading from the atrium.

“Hey!” I shout, reaching for my deckholder even as I start along the catwalk. I don’t get very far, because my world is suddenly filled with erratic red flashes and a full-body agony I’ve never experienced before; when I come around, I’m lying on the catwalk, panting as remnants of red lightning crackle over my clothes. Grimes is standing at the other end of the catwalk, crimson arcs snapping over his free hand.

“Such bonds of filial loyalty are touching, but we cannot be having that.” Grimes chides, flicking his hand until the crimson arcs have dissipated. “My only complaint is that you didn’t bring the morphox as well. But I’ll take what I can get at this point. There will be later opportunities to complete the set.” Turning, he snaps his fingers to one of his loitering elves, pointing at us. “Deal with them. I don’t want them following us from here.”

“Oh, now that’s just rude.” Milor grumbles, glancing back to me. “You okay, blondie?”

All I can do is stare at him, panting and wishing the aches would fade away. “Everything hurts.” I gasp, wincing at the pain that goes through my jaw at those two words.

“Bastard.” Milor mutters, then looks back to the end of the catwalk, where one of Grime’s elf grunts is stepping out of his shadow. “Right, note to self. Avoid the red lightning.”

“Milor.” I gasp. “Jazel.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” Milor grunts over his shoulder. “But I’m kinda tied to this railing right now. Carrots, could we get some help over here?”

“Does it LOOK like I’m in the POSITION to HELP right now!” Tashilo shouts back, punctuating her words with punches thrown at the elf she’s grappling with.

“Fine, fine, just whenever you get the chance, no rush!” Milor shouts back to her as Grimes’ elf marches down the catwalk towards us, pulling a double set of sickle blades out of his cloak. “Gotta do everything myself, don’t I…”

“Milor.” I gasp again, trying to move as the elf gets nearer. The pain’s going away, but not nearly fast enough.

“Don’t worry, blondie.” Milor says, reaching up to start flipping switches on his plasma pistol. “I ain’t gonna let them hurt you.”

With that, he lifts his pistol as much as he can with his wrist bound to the railing the way it is, and squeezes off of a shot. The bolt of green plasma streaks down to the catwalk in what I thought was going to be a warning shot for the elf.

But when it hits the catwalk, it bounces, ricocheting up at an angle and nailing the elf square in the eye.

The elf’s head jerks back at the impact, the rest of him flying backwards. The sickle blades are immediately dropped as the elf clutches his hand to his face, screaming and thrashing as the plasma boils his eye in its socket; Grimes, who was starting to walk back to the tunnel, turns around. When he does, Milor adjusts one of the dials on his pistol and fires again; this time, the bolt bounces off the catwalk, pings off the railing, ricochets off the railing on the other side, and nails Grimes in the the shoulder.

“Augh! What the hell—” Grimes shouts as the staggers, clutching his shoulder and the hole that the plasma burned through his greatcoat. Crimson arcs gather around his fingers once more, and Milor ducks down as a bolt of red lightning rips through the air over him. “I would’ve killed you back on Vissengard if I knew you were going to be this much trouble down the line!”

“Yeah, you’re not the first person that’s regretted leaving me alive.” Milor says as the now one-eyed elf struggles upright and starts to stagger away. He fires another bolt, this one bouncing off the railing and hitting the elf in the thigh; it prompts a scream, the elf leaning heavily on the railing as he limps back towards Grimes. “Get in line.”

“Get him out of here!” Grimes snaps to the elf who’s got Jazel, who looks unconscious. Turning back to the rest of the atrium, he shouts. “Pull back! We got what we wanted!”

“No!” I wheeze, forcing my way past the fading pain to shunt myself to my hands and knees. Around the atrium, the elves are shadowstepping away, some returning to the pipes they came through while a couple others cover Grimes’ retreat. “Milor— you’ve got to stop them—”

“I can’t get a clear shot, blondie, I might hit the kid!” Milor hisses back at me as Grimes and his elves start backing into the tunnel.

“NO!” I shout, lunging drunkenly to my feet and bracing myself on the railing. Reaching up to my deckholder, I rip a card out of it, not even bothering to check it before I throw it at their retreating backs. It curves into the tunnel after them, and a moment later, there’s an explosion of water blasting back out of the tunnel — even more than there was when I threw the jack of oceans earlier. I gasp as I realize that the card I threw must’ve been the queen or king of oceans — and with that much water exploding within a confined space, I might’ve just killed Grimes and pretty much everyone else in the tunnel, Jazel included.

“Shit! No no no…” Using the railing to support myself, I stagger along to the walkway rimming the atrium. Water is still emptying out of the tunnel at about ankle height, trickling through the grated holes in the walkway and into the pit below. Splashing through the runoff, I reach the tunnel and peer inside, the glow of my headlights sliding along the soaked walls of tunnel, but failing to penetrate more than forty feet into the darkness. There’s no sign of Grimes, his elves, or Jazel — the force of the water being unleashed in the tunnel would’ve blasted them further down into it, god only knows how far.

I start to step into tunnel, but I slip on the ledge, and the water still flowing out of it. Pitching forward, I catch myself on my hands, but still bash my shin on the stone, gasping as I hold in a shout. Grounded by the pain, arms braced in the stream of water flowing out of the tunnel, I jerk my head up and scream down the tunnel, all my frustration and fear and desperation coming out in a raw sound. “Jazel! JAZEL!”

But nobody replies, and the only response is my own voice echoing back to me, and the sound of water draining from the sewers into the bottomless pit behind me.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Coreolis: Shinigasi Sewers

1:28pm SGT

“I followed the tunnel down to the split. The wave would’ve run out by that point, and I didn’t find any bodies, so they’re still alive.”

I can hear Milor’s voice behind me, along the walkway some distance. He’s come back from scoping out the tunnel that Grimes and his elves disappeared into, taking Jazel with them. Hearing his words, I close my eyes and bury my face against my arms.

“So they’re still out there. Just great.” Tashilo replies. Her bootsteps echo on the metal grate, evidence of her agitated pacing. “I’ve got one dead. We’ve triaged the rest. Normally I’d call for an extraction, but short-range comms have trouble getting through subterranean areas like this. We’re gonna have to hike ourselves back out.”

“We’ll help you get back to the surface.” Milor says. “Are we carrying the fallen, or leaving them for extraction later?”

Tashilo sighs. “We’ve got two that are well enough to carry him. It’s going to be hard, but I don’t want to leave him down here. Decay sets in faster down in sewers, and gods only know what kind of scavengers skulk around down here. Can you help us with supporting the wounded out of here? They can walk, but they’ll need help.”

“Yeah, of course. We’d be more than happy to help with that.” Milor replies.

“Good.” A railing clanks, probably because Tashilo’s taken to leaning on it. “You’re a pain in the ass, Deputy, but you’re a decent-enough fellow.”

“I’ll take it. When are we leaving?”

“They’ve rested enough and we’ve done all the first aid we can. I’ll give you five minutes to talk with your charge over there and then we’ll get moving. Unless you’ll need more?”

“Five minutes should be plenty.”

“Good. Just let me know if you need more.”

The end of their conversation is marked by footsteps clanking away over the grated metal, with Milor’s stride growing louder as he gets closer. Stopping beside me, he sits down, hanging his legs out over the walkway the way I am, and folding his arms on the lower section of the railing like I’m doing.

“So, I’m not going to pretend you didn’t hear all that.” he says. “He’s not dead. That’s the important part.”

“I should’ve checked the card before I threw it.” I whisper. “I should’ve known better.”

“Yeah… yeah, probably.” Milor agrees gently. “We all make mistakes. It’s okay; it happens to everyone.”

“It’s not okay!” I snap at him. “If I had just… if I’d just stopped and checked, I would’ve realized what it was, and I wouldn’t have thrown it… or maybe I would’ve, I don’t know, I had to do something, I couldn’t just let them walk off with Jazel…”

“You were panicked. It happens.” Milor says calmly. “That happens in combat. Situations change quickly, and we do the best we can to adapt to them, but it’s rarely perfect.”

“But if I hadn’t thrown it, maybe it wouldn’t have blasted them down that tunnel as far as it did, and maybe we could’ve caught up with them—”

“And do what, blondie?” Milor asks. “I was tied to that railing. I couldn’t have chased after them. Carrots had wounded soldiers to triage, she couldn’t just leave her people bleedin’ out while she chased after Grimes. And you could barely walk. If you’d followed them into that tunnel, you woulda gotten knocked on your ass. Or worse.”

“So what, there’s nothing I could’ve done about it?” I demand.

“Yeah.” he says simply. “I know that’s tough to hear. Sometimes it doesn’t matter what you do. Sometimes that shit ain’t something you can control. But it doesn’t do you any good to keep beatin’ yourself up over it.”

“Goddammit, Milor, this isn’t some minor incident!” I snap, shoving off the railing and standing up. “They kidnapped Jazel! Like actual, no-joke, bona-fide kidnapped him! And they escaped! We have no idea where the hell they’re taking him or what they’re doing to him or how we’re supposed to find them! This isn’t something where you just handwave it and go ‘oh, mistakes happen’. They have kidnapped him! He is in danger!”

“Never said he wasn’t.” Milor says, standing up as well.

“Yeah, well then maybe you could treat this a little more seriously!” I know my voice is echoing around the atrium, but I’m too upset right now to care. “We should be getting after them, not standing here while they get further and further away!”

“Your friend’s alive.” Tashilo says, her boots echoing over the walkway as she makes her way back around to us. “They wouldn’t kidnap him if he wasn’t valuable, and if they wanted him dead, they would’ve killed him and then dragged off the body. They took pains to capture him alive, so they need him alive. And he’ll stay alive until they’ve gotten what they want out of him.”

“Oh I’m sorry, is that supposed to make me feel better?” I snap at her.

Tashilo stops and tilts her head at me, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, actually. Yeah it is.” She turns, pointing across the atrium. “You see that body over there? When I get back to my ship, I get to record a message to send back to the family telling them that their son and their brother isn’t coming home.” With that, she turns back to me. “Yeah, it sucks that your friend was kidnapped. Yeah, I’d be worried about him too. But he’s still alive. There’s a chance he could still come home. So stow the complaints, and check it before you wreck it. Your friend isn’t the worst off here by a long shot.”

“Captain.” Milor says quietly.

Tashilo’s eyes flick to Milor. “You’re too damn soft, Deputy.” she mutters, looking back to me. “I’m sorry about what happened, but moaning and bitching won’t fix it. We don’t have the manpower to chase after Grimes and his gang. There are people that need medical attention, and we have a responsibility to those that are still alive. We get everyone back to the surface, and then we can focus on tracking down and rescuing your friend. Is that understood?”

“We get it, Captain.” Milor says before I can respond. “Let’s get moving. The longer we spend talking about this, the more time Grimes has to get away.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Tashilo says, turning and marching back the way she came, shouting as she goes. “Alright, everybody up, let’s move! Help isn’t coming to find us, so we have to go find it. Let’s roll out.”

As the Vaunted start to get back up, bracing for the long trip back through the sewers, Milor turns to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “We are going to find him. We’re not going to leave him at the mercy of Grimes.”

With that, he turns and starts off after Tashilo, probably to help with the wounded Vaunted. Left alone, I can’t help but look back at the tunnel that Grimes escaped through, tempted to just leave the others and go off after Grimes on my own. It’s going to take us hours to get back to the surface, and by the time we do, Grimes might have a headstart on getting offworld with Jazel. And if he manages to get offworld before we track him down, then it’ll be all but impossible to figure out where he’s gone.

But I know that wherever he went down that tunnel, he’s long gone. There’s not a chance I’ll be able to find them, and at the moment, the best course of action is to get back to the surface and get help. And hope that it’s not too late.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I turn and follow after Milor and the others, pulling my breathing mask back on as we slowly make our way back into the sewers of Coreolis.

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Location: Unknown

8:41pm SGT

When I come to, my head is bursting with pain.

It’s pounding, aching, throbbing, and my first instinct it to curl up and just hold it. It’s radiating from a spot on the back of my head, presumably where I’d been hit with something. Who hit me and what they hit me with are still fuzzy; all I can remember is a burst of pain knocking my head forward, and then nothing. Prior to that, though, I remember fighting, and shouting, and the rank stench of the sewers…

The sewers.

I open my eyes, not because I want to, but because I feel like I have to. I have to figure out where I am, and what’s going on. Looking around, squinting through the pain, I realize I’m lying on what looks like a patchwork of towels on a carpeted floor; it’s cold and my clothes are faintly damp. There are seats along the wall, leather and plush, and the ceiling overhead is glass. Beyond it, there’s the bent lens of space as seen through a warp field…

Hyperspace.

I must be on a ship.

Taking a deeper breath, I cough to try and clear the thickness in my throat. When I try to move my hands to brush my hair out of my eyes, I realize they’re restrained; looking down, I can see they’ve been shackled. Not just cuffed at the wrists, but full-on shackled, clamped in metal pods from the wrists downwards. I can’t hold or grip anything when they’re like this, and most importantly, I can’t activate or use my grimoire.

The muted tapping of thumbs over a screen gets my attention; grimacing at pounding in my head, I roll over. On the other side of the cabin in one of the leather seats is an elf in the cloak he was wearing in the sewers, typing away at his phone. “Don’t even think about it.” he says without looking up from his phone.

I squeeze my eyes shut again. There’s too much I don’t understand, too much I don’t know. I know I’m on a ship, but I don’t know how long it’s been, and I don’t know where it’s going to. Lysanne and Milor aren’t here, and the elf must mean that Grimes managed to capture me. Still, I might as well try to find out what I can. “Where am I?”

“Don’t ask those questions, humie.” the elf says. “Once you start up that shit, it doesn’t stop. Where am I? Where are you taking me? What did you do with my friends? What are you going to do to me? I’m not even allowed to answer half the questions you’re going to ask, and you probably already know the answers to the rest. So just don’t. If you lay there, nice and quiet, then I won’t get up and beat your ass like a bass drum. It’s a win-win. Everyone gets what they want.”

“I want to be released.” I growl at him.

His eyes leave his phone to fix on me, and after a moment, he sighs. “So you’re gonna be one of those types. Gods, I don’t get paid enough to put up with this shit.” Setting his phone aside, he leans forward, flicking a hand out to one side. A nimbus of darkness swirls into existence over his hand, folding in and over itself in unending loops. “Let me see if I can get this across to you another way. Are you familiar with what a shadowpacter is?”

I stare at the ball of looping darkness over his hand, starting to realize that I’m not in a position to defend myself. “That’s… that’s a certain type of Ranter magic, right…” I say, a bit quieter.

“Very good. I see that we are starting to understand each other better now.” he says, his voice more approving when he sees the aggression bleed out of me. “So here’s the deal. Your quality of life directly correlates with how easy you make my job. If you make my job easy, your quality of life will stay where it is right now, and might even improve. If you make my job hard, your quality of life is going to drop off the edge of a cliff. Got it?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t like you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” he says, leaning back in his seat, the nimbus of darkness over his hand evaporating. “But I don’t care if you don’t like me. You can hate me all you want. Just don’t make my job harder than it has to be.”

With that, he picks his phone up and goes back to scrolling through it, the cabin returning to silence once more. Unsure of what to do, I look around the cabin again, but my head hurts too much to try and glean much from my surroundings. All I can really infer is that it’s a rich-person ship because of the plush leather, and the fact that they put towels down underneath me to keep the carpet from getting wet when they dropped me on it.

“They’re gonna come for me, you know.” I say after a moment.

“Delusion is one of the five stages of grief.” the elf says without looking up from his phone.

I squint at that. “I… don’t think it is?”

“Well, it should be.”

“Point is, they’re gonna come for me.”

“Mhmm. That’s what they all say.” he murmurs.

“She can track me.”

“Ship’s warded from prying eyes. This isn’t the first time we’ve done this, humie. Trust me, if you can think of something to escape or get help, we’ve got a counter for it.”

I go quiet at that. If the ship was warded, then it meant Kayenta might not be able to use the scars on my face to track me. Which did imply they had been doing this for a while, and they had probably gotten good at it. “Even if she can’t find me, CURSE will.”

The elf smirks at that, and doesn’t say anything.

“What’s so funny?” I demand.

“You, of course.” The voice comes from the hall leading into the cabin, and I twist on the floor to see Grimes stepping into the room. “Your faith in CURSE is amusingly misplaced.”

I glare at him. “I’m no fan of them either, but they’re competent. You won’t be able to evade them for long with the resources they have at their disposal.”

“Oh, I’ve got no doubts about their resources.” Grimes says, resting his hands on the head of his cane. “What I doubt is their will.”

I scowl. “Well, yes, they’re a little slow and bureaucratic sometimes, but they’ll take action once I’m reported missing.”

“Still a brilliant idiot.” the elf sighs.

“What’s that mean?” I snap at him.

“It means you’re not getting what’s staring you in the face.” he answers.

“Not… what?” I say, looking between him and Grimes. “What am I not getting?”

Grimes crouches down so he can look me in the eye, his cane folded over his lap as he does so. Lacing his fingers together, he smirks with the next words out of his mouth.

“CURSE isn’t coming to rescue you, because they’re the ones that told us where to find you.”