Mistrunner 3 - Chapter 5 - Meeting the Crew

Mira has told me a little about what she did while we were apart, though I feel sure she’s kept the worst of it to herself. I get it. After Nova, she was broken, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t fix her. Because she didn’t want to be fixed. She didn’t think she deserved it.

Patrick Ward

I lay on my side, my hand resting on Patrick’s bare chest, the rise and fall almost hypnotic in its simplicity. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. Once he was completely awake, he turned to me, gave me a slight smile, and said, “Good morning, you.”

“Morning,” I replied, returning his smile with one of my own. In times like that, I sometimes questioned what I’d done to deserve happiness. Certainly, I hadn’t earned it through my actions. I’d done horrible things, and though I didn’t necessarily regret them, the guilt still weighed me down.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, reading my emotions like a book. My expression hadn’t really changed much, aside from my smile fading away, but for Patrick, that was enough to paint a clear picture.

“Just thinking,” I said, shifting closer. He lifted his arm, letting me rest against him, and hugged me tight. “About everything. About how lucky I am.”

“I agree. You’re extremely lucky to have such a supportive, handsome, and understanding partner,” he said. “And did I mention handsome?”

I playfully slapped his stomach. “Shut up. That’s not what I’m talking about,” I said. Though that wasn’t really true. Without Patrick, I never would have climbed out of my malaise. Absent his anchoring presence, I probably would be dead somewhere after having picked a fight I couldn’t hope to win. I was functionally immune to inebriants – and God knows, I tried to challenge that – but there were plenty of other forms of self-destruction, and I’d sampled them all.

“I know,” he said. “I look back at everything, and I’m sometimes amazed at how we’re even alive. One little change, and everything would be different.”

“Yeah.”

For a while, we just lay there, enjoying one another’s closeness, but then, I said, “So, you really think they’ll betray us?”

“Probably. It makes sense,” he said. “Once they get what they want from us, they’ll turn on us. Probably try to take the Leviathan, too.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Do you not want to do it?” Patrick asked. “We could head out right now and be on the other side of the world by tomorrow. You remember that mountain town we visited a few months back? The one with the monks? You liked it there, didn’t you? Isaac and his people wouldn’t be able to follow.”

“But you wouldn’t get your circuits,” I said.

He gave a slight shrug, then said, “I’ve gone this long without them.”

“You really want them, though,” I countered. “You’re not really good at hiding excitement.”

“Wasn’t trying.”

“Right. But I can tell how important this is to you,” I said. Indeed, Patrick loved to tinker with various machines and cybernetics. In the beginning, I thought he was just trying to advance his [Cybernetic Engineering] skill, but over time, I’d come to realize that he truly enjoyed the process of creation. That wasn’t really my thing, but given my work creating various Ghosts, I could understand how rewarding such a process could be. Besides, his hobby had often proved useful.

“I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t,” he stated. I started to respond, but he cut me off by saying, “But it’s not as important as other things.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like staying alive,” was his response.

That much was true. I was reasonably certain that I could survive just about anything Isaac and his crew could throw at me, but I wasn’t invincible. More importantly, neither was Patrick. In fact, he was downright squishy next to me. Sure, he had some nice equipment to shore up some of his weaknesses, but the best equipment in the world was useless in the face of overwhelming power.

“Still. I think we should do this,” I said. “If they turn on us, we’ll just be ready. Then, we’ll take their stuff.”

He sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he said, “Guess that’s that, then. May as well get ready to go.”

With that, we both got out of bed and got dressed. I started with my Infiltration suit; I still hadn’t found anything better, regardless of how hard I’d looked. I wasn’t disappointed with that, though. It just proved that I had the best available. Still, I was hoping that, some day soon, I’d be able to find an upgrade.

My Sheath, by contrast, had seen a couple of updates. Neither were game changers or anything – just a couple of enhancements that made it more durable – but I was more than happy with my subdermal armor. Patrick had even gotten something similar, though his was of lower quality. Not because we didn’t want to spend the money, but rather because Dex had been unable to find anything as good as mine.

Over my Infiltration suit, I donned a pair of tight-fitting black pants, a black top, and a short, red jacket that didn’t even reach my waist. Next came my gun belt and Ferdinand II. Finally, I slipped on a pair of heavy, black boots that laced up to mid-calf.

Patrick, by comparison, wore his own version of the Infiltration suit – again, not quite as high-quality as mine, but it was probably light years ahead of anything Isaac and his ilk would have. Over that was white tee-shirt emblazoned with a logo I’d never seen before, a pair of blue pants, and a yellow jacket.

“Lookin’ good,” I said, grinning as I saw him strap a holster to his own belt. In it was his Tergan Tactical pistol. “You look like a real swashbuckler.”

“Wouldn’t I need a cutlass for that?” he asked.

I shrugged. “You would look pretty dashing with a sword,” I said with a small grin. “Would probably be awkward to sit in the pilot’s chair with that, though.”

“See? That’s why I keep you around. You think of everything,” he said with feigned earnestness.

I stepped forward and put my arms around his neck. “Is that the only reason?” I asked, looking up into his eyes.

He swallowed hard. “I can think of one or two others,” he admitted, pulling me close. Then, he leaned down and kissed me. It only lasted a few seconds before I pulled away, and he asked, “What?”

“If we start going down that road, we’ll be late.”

“I can be quick,” he complained.

“Not really what a girl wants to hear,” I said with a shake of my head followed by a light chuckle. Then, I pulled out of his embrace and added, “Come on. They’re going to be waiting for us.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, but he said, “Fine. But I reserve the right to ravage you later.”

I winked, asking, “Who says you’re the one who’ll be doing the ravaging?”

With that, the pair of us continued making the final preparations for our departure. Most of the Leviathan’s vital systems were automated, but Patrick was a stickler for his processes. So, even though doing so wasn’t entirely necessary, we went through his pre-flight checklist before finally getting underway.

I settled into the navigator’s chair beside him and shared my map with his interface via the Secure Connection we’d established. On it, I’d placed a Waypoint for our destination, which was a mid-sized town nestled high in the nearby mountains.

“And off we go,” he said after firing up the Mist reactor. Fueled by Rift shards, even starting the Leviathan up was an expensive prospect, but flying it was enough to bankrupt a small town. We could afford it, though, if only barely. Worse comes to worst, we could’ve just run a Rift.

I shuddered as the memory of my last attempt at delving a Rift came to mind. No – I didn’t want to risk that unless absolutely necessary.

The Leviathan lifted into the air, rocking a bit as it fought against the planet’s gravity. After only a second or two, it stabilized, and then, we were on our way. The ground sped by beneath us; the ship was capable of going much faster, but doing so would have drained our fuel extremely rapidly. The ship wasn’t designed for terrestrial travel – instead, it was meant for space flight – so it took a lot of power to make up for its unsuitability. As a result, we kept our speed low enough to minimize the fuel consumption.

Still, it was fast enough that it only took us about an hour to reach our destination.

One thing I’d learned soon after Nova’s fall was that airships were not nearly as rare as I’d expected. Most were cobbled together versions of pre-Initialization vessels, but there were plenty of newer ships around, too. Because of that, most important settlements were equipped with some version of an airdock. Our destination was no different.

The city was called Abernathy, and as far as I knew, it hadn’t even existed before the Initialization. That meant that the city had been built with modern issues in mind, so its airdock was fairly advanced, if a bit small.

The dock itself was a series of circular spaces enclosed by high walls, and after communicating with the Abernathy authorities, Patrick settled the Leviathan into an assigned slip. Once we’d set up the automated defenses – and I’d used Bastion – we disembarked the ship. Immediately, we were greeted by one of the city’s officials.

She was a small, nervous woman with dark skin and vivid pink hair. “What brings you to our great city?” she asked in accented English.

“Meeting friends,” said Patrick. “Maybe picking up some cargo. Depends on how the meeting goes.”

“Then you need to be aware of the tariffs on exports,” the woman said before explaining that anything leaving the city was subject to a tax. That wasn’t abnormal – most towns had a similar system – but it didn’t worry me. With Patrick’s [Smuggler] skill, he could easily get around such things.

Unless someone had a skill to counter it, but that rarely happened.

Once we’d finished with the official, we headed through the slip’s gate and into the town itself. Like most cities, it was constructed of durable materials and protected by a Mist shield – though not a powerful one. Still, we hadn’t seen any particularly noteworthy wildlife on our way in, so it was probably sufficient.

That was one thing I’d learned since leaving Nova behind. The wilderness was dangerous – even more so in some of the untamed regions we’d visited in the past couple of years – but there were pockets of stability where habitation was fairly safe. Abernathy had clearly been built in one such area.

Certainly, nowhere was completely safe. Danger could spring up out of nowhere, and I was sure that Abernathy was not completely protected. Still, it was safer than most places, which meant that it could afford some level of stability.

The architecture could be categorized as what I now recognized as influenced by an Eastern style. With sweeping, tiled roofs, the buildings combined with the gardens to evoke a sense of serene stability. As if neither time nor danger would ever touch the place. Cherry blossoms lined the road leading away from the airdock, enhancing that atmosphere.

“Not a bad place to settle down,” Patrick said, looking around.

“I’m sure it’s hiding something below the surface,” I responded. My cynicism had died down a little since what had happened in Nova, and I recognized that my perception of the city had been tainted by my mindset. However, no amount of personal growth could mask the notion that people were, by and large, self-interested. And where there was selfishness, there existed a seedy underbelly of crime and corruption. It was an inevitable part of human nature. So, when I saw a beautiful town like Abernathy, I recognized it for the façade it was.

“Might just be a nice place,” he said. “Everywhere isn’t like Nova.”

I shrugged. I didn’t want to argue with him. As well as we got along, his mindset was fundamentally different from mine, and I didn’t think we’d soon bridge that gap. Even so, we didn’t need to agree on everything, so we hadn’t let it affect our relationship.

We continued on to the meeting place – a tavern called the Wandering Duck – and as we traversed the town’s streets, I used Observationto get a better sense of the place. And just as I’d expected, I saw precisely the corruption that infected every other human settlement. I saw pickpockets, more than a few addicts, and shady businesses that were obviously fronts for less-than-reputable activities. However, I was pleased to note that the local constables – as recognized by their bright red uniforms – seemed to be doing their jobs. I didn’t notice a single undeserved beating, which was a rarity when someone gained even a modicum of power.

Gradually, we crossed the town and, eventually, we reached the Wandering Duck, which was a three-story structure following the same architectural pattern as the rest of the city. We went inside, and I let out a sigh of relief when I saw the familiar confines of a bar. No matter where else I went, they were always the same – a comforting throughline that connected everything.

Sure, details changed. Décor might be different. But the atmosphere? Or more importantly, the people – they remained consistent. In this case, the furnishings reminded me more of a spacious teahouse than a pub. Still, the feeling was the same as any other bar.

As I searched the area for threats – there were at least four people in the tavern that looked like they had the attributes to handle themselves – and potential escape routes, Patrick told the host, who was a small man with sharp features and slick-backed, black hair, that we were there to meet our friends. He seemed to have been prepared for our arrival, and he quickly led us into a private room upstairs.

That’s where we were reunited with Isaac, Huascar, and four other people. The first was a tall, broad man wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a sleeveless shirt sporting a logo I’d never seen before. The second was a pretty, petite woman – a girl really – with stark white hair streaked with green and a pair of pistols strapped to her hips. Third came a sloppy, rotund man who looked as if he’d never participated in a physical activity in his life. His hair was a thin fringe of fuzz, and even from a distance, I could smell the stink of excess sweat and sour beer. Rounding out the group was an incredibly handsome man with high cheekbones, lavender eyes, and blonde hair that hung down to his shoulders.

And he had pointed ears. It actually took a flare of Observationfor me to notice them, but they were there all the same.

I had Ferdinand II out in the space of an instant, and it only took a fraction of a second longer before I had the barrel pointed in the intruder’s direction. “Alien,” I muttered, locking my eyes on his.

I’d encountered plenty of aliens in my young life, but aside from a few merchants in the Bazaar, I’d never had what anyone would consider peaceful relations with them. They were invaders, after all. And there was only one thing to do with those sorts of people.

Everyone erupted into motion. Patrick drew his own pistol, getting it out almost as quickly as I’d drawn mine. The pretty girl did the same, and though she couldn’t match our speed, she still managed to arm herself in a flash. The big man pushed himself from the table and promptly tipped over onto his back, cementing my impression that he wasn’t a real threat. Huascar bent over, covering his head with his hands as he tried to make the smallest target possible while his brother held up his hands in a gesture of placation.

Meanwhile, the alien just smiled and said, “Impressive. Very perceptive.”

“Give me a reason not to kill you, or I’m going to start painting the walls,” I growled. Then, I felt someone smash against my Mistwall. They were rebuffed by my defenses, and I counterattacked with Backlash. Immediately, the fat man started to convulse. “And if big boy there tries to attack me again, I’ll drop him without a second thought.”

“Very impressive,” repeated the alien.

“Everybody just calm down!” hissed Isaac. “We don’t have to fight.”

“Tell that to the invader.”

“Mira…”

I didn’t turn to look at Patrick – I had no intention of taking my eyes off the enemy – but I could hear the plea in his voice. So, I said, “Explain. Quick. Or –”

“You will paint the walls, presumably with our blood. A very visceral description,” said the alien. “I promise, I mean you nor the inhabitants of this world any harm. In fact, our interests are far more aligned than you know.”

“Yeah? Gonna need more than that,” I said. If I had to go on the attack, I’d take out the alien first. I had a hard time getting a read on his power level. Then, I’d hit Isaac. After that, the girl. The man in the hat still hadn’t moved. Instead, he seemed entirely disinterested as he took a sip from his mug of dark beer. Yeah – he’d be next. Then, Huascar. Finally, the fat man. I could manage that, so long as none of them displayed any particularly impressive abilities. Not a guarantee. Plus, I’d have to get Patrick out of harm’s way. No – a fight was a bad idea. Maybe necessary, but still not smart.

“This doesn’t change anything,” said Isaac. “Askar is part of the team.”

The alien spread his hands and smiled. I had to concentrate to see that the tips of his incisors were slightly pointed. “Indeed. Just a cog in the machine.”

“We need an explanation,” said Patrick. “Now. Or we walk.”

Isaac looked from me to Patrick, then back at me. After a second, he sighed and said, “Very well. At least have a seat. This might take a few minutes.”

I nodded before pulling out one of the chairs and taking a seat. I kept Ferdinand II out, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Patrick hadn’t holstered his weapon either. Finally, once we were seated, I said, “Okay, talk. And make it convincing.”