Inelius moved at the front of the party, his boots scraping grit as he navigated the switchbacks. Behind him came Veolo, focused and silent, then Violet, eyes constantly scanning. Amalia brought up the rear, her breathing audibly labored but controlled.
“Do you think your wheezing will start echoing soon?” Violet called over her shoulder without turning.
Amalia’s breath hitched with a chuckle. “Honestly? I’m surprised it took this long for anyone to say something.”
Inelius glanced back. Amalia trekked along with Riza’s massive sniper cannon, NMW, strapped to her back, as well as a handful of the giant slugs it used for ammo. Nearly as long as Amalia was tall, its reinforced plating gleamed under the sun, black with neon blue lines glowing from whatever powered the damn thing. She carried it like a challenge along with the rifle she normally carried, her body straining against the weight.
“Did you lose a bet?” Veolo asked. “Or piss her off or something?”
“Training,” Amalia said, breathing hard but smiling. “Gotta be able to carry it around without struggling if I’m ever going to shoot it.”
Veolo raised a brow. “And Riza agreed to let you use it?”
Amalia shook her head, a flash of amusement in her eyes. “Sort of. She said I have to prove to her that I’m even capable first. Either way, she doesn’t want to be anywhere near it if it needs to be shot. Says the shockwaves could mess with the baby.”
“Ahh,” Inelius nodded as he walked along. “That makes sense.”
Amalia shrugged, still grinning. “So…” a breath, “just gotta,” a breath, “get used to carrying it,” breath, “around.” She took the last step up the incline and took a huge gulp of air. “WHEW!”
“You seem to be handling it well enough,” Violet muttered, resuming her pace.
“I can’t feel my back anymore,” Amalia replied sweetly.
Inelius allowed himself the faintest smile. The rhythm of hoofbeats continued behind him, climbing higher along the ridge. Somewhere ahead, through the warped air above the sandstone rise, was the abandoned relay tower their patrol was meant to check, and the growing concern that it was being used for more than shelter. He rolled out his shoulders and pressed forward.
The environment on Mol’eyne didn’t care what weight they carried.
Sixty days, Garrin had told them.
The Resolute Wind left the star system yesterday, the massive ship slowly shrinking into a dot before disappearing from sight as it left the atmosphere. Commander Garrin had barely been able to convince Aurania to not reject the mission outright.
“I have a really solid lead on something that could help out Nox,” Garrin told them as the ship approached the planet. “There are some promising ruins in the next system over, but I’m awaiting confirmation of their exact location.”
“Well why the hell don’t we go help look?” Aurania questioned.
“Because there are three separate worlds in the star system, and the ruins could be anywhere on any of the planets. To my knowledge, none of the worlds are even really occupied.”
“And our ship isn’t equipped to live out of,” Aurania relented, “especially for so many of us.”
“Exactly,” Garrin said. “The Resolute Wind has orders to undergo maintenance, we have to head the opposite direction from where you'll need to go. Worst case scenario, I get word of where the ruins are, send them to you, and you take enough supplies for a short trip over there.”
That had been the end of it. They could do a lot of good here while they waited. Them, and the several thousand other LU personnel that had been sent out to various towns across the planet.
Mol’eyne stretched around them in every direction, dry, brittle, and cracked. Primarily settled by lazarco, d’moria, and a modest population of shorn, the area they had been assigned to was home to ranches, livestock, and little technology. LU bureaucrats called it a success story in progress, one of the most recent additions to the Liberty Union. The locals just called it what it was:
Hard.
Inelius reached the crest of the plateau and paused, letting the others catch up. The ridge opened into a wide expanse of scorched brushland, baked flat beneath the rising sun. Scattered outcroppings of ochre rock jutted from the ground like fossilized bones, and in the distance, the remnants of the old relay tower sagged at the edge of a cracked basin, its spine warped from heat and neglect. A dust devil spun lazy circles in the distance, whipping up old plastic and sand like ghosts with nowhere left to haunt.
This was the edge of nowhere.
“Alright ladies, hydrate or die.” Inelius said, his tone relaxed but commanding. “Veolo, tell me what we're doing next.”
Aurania had put him in charge for the small scouting mission. He was to keep testing and instructing Veolo in leadership drills along the way. He had fun with it, but she was doing well. She stepped up and squinted at the distant tower. Her damp, silver hair clung to her face, a few strands fluttering in the dry wind.
“We approach in a three-point arc,” she gestured toward the layout. “I’ll take point east, Amalia takes west. Violet anchors the center with you. Locals think it's being used as a hideout, so…”
She let that trail off, glancing at Inelius.
He nodded once. “Keep going.”
“Once one of us gets visual, radio the others for further instruction. We're here to scout, not fight, so only engage if attacked first.” She looked around at the others, expression sharp but not overbearing. She was trying to strike the balance Aurania had told her to practice, command presence without barking.
“Simple enough,” Violet nodded.
Inelius let a moment pass. The wind gusted again, scattering dry seeds from some gnarled brush and making Violet’s twin ponytails dance. He turned to Veolo. “Good plan. Any other day, I'd say it's perfect.”
After a moment, Veolo asked, “But…?”
He slowly turned toward the sweaty, wheezing member of their group. “Remember to adapt to changing circumstances.”
Amalia had her head tilted back, dumping water in and around her mouth. She looked down and saw the rest of them staring. “What?”
Inelius turned back to Veolo. “You're used to Amalia's battlefield advantage of chaos and quickness. I'm hoping to keep out of any firefights on this one, but if we do have to fight…” he raised his brow.
“Amalia is a chaos slug,” Veolo finished.
“Hey!” Amalia said, feigning offence.
“Copy,” Veolo continued. “Amalia with Inelius, Violet goes west.”
He gave her a nod. “Let’s move. We regroup at the base if anything looks off. Talk soft if you need to use comms.”
Veolo quickly peeled off, carefully skirting the ridge. Violet followed a moment later, slipping between two boulders without a word. Amalia dramatically exhaled once they were out of earshot. “I'm so proud of her, she's doing such a good job.”
He smiled back at her. “She really is.” After a few moments, he added, “What's your plan if one of us needs to be carried back?”
Her eyes flicked around as she contemplated the question, finally declaring, “I can handle the weight.”
He shrugged with a look that said, “If you say so.” Then he pulled his bag off his shoulders, took his water bottle out, and tossed the entire pack to Amalia. She caught it and slung it up onto her back with the rest of what she was carrying. She halfway looked like she might cry, but she never complained.
Inelius took a big drink of water, then clipped the bottle on his belt. “Come on.”
They set off toward the tower, slower than he preferred but faster than he expected. Amalia grunted as she adjusted to the new loadout, and they started moving down a narrow path carved into the edge of the basin. The trail was brittle and uneven, but her hoof placement was surprisingly light for someone hauling so much weight. They walked in silence for a few minutes as the wind scraped across the rock like sandpaper.
Eventually, Amalia quietly said, “Hey. What's your read on this Venlin character?”
Inelius didn’t answer right away. He scanned the tower’s silhouette ahead, finally saying, “I’m not sure. Haven’t had more than the one quick interaction with the guy. Dresses fancy enough I guess.”
“I kinda like it,” Amalia answered, stepping over a small boulder. “A well dressed lazarco? Mmm, yeah—I can work with that.”
“Oh yeah?” Inelius cocked one brow at her. “He’s got so many rings on though.”
“Well yeah, you guys have so many fingers. You could pull off some nice jewelry.”
He laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
They dropped into the shallow basin, and the air shifted. It was still hot, but heavier now. The relay tower stood crooked ahead, its steel ribs jutting into the sky like broken teeth. Something had scorched the base recently. Black marks streaked across one side of the plating, and a trail of disturbed gravel led around the far edge.
“Visual,” Violet’s voice came in quiet over the comms.
“Go ahead,” Inelius answered.
“There’s a small compound built around the tower. Counting at least 15-20 bodies moving around in there.”
“Yeah, let’s not fight that,” Inelius said. “Veolo? How’s it looking from your side?”
“One sec,” she answered. “Getting a better vantage point.”
Inelius shifted his weight to one leg and looked around, scanning their perimeter for movement. After confirming no threats, he casually reached down and picked up a small rock.
“Think you can deflect this without touching it?” he teased Amalia.
“Maybe if I try really hard. But I don’t think I’d look good with glowing white hair.”
He chuckled and dropped the rock. “Fair enough.”
“Alright,” Veolo said. “There’s another handful of bodies hanging out behind the building where Violet can’t see. If there’s anymore inside, I’d say we’re looking at upwards of 30. Looks to be mostly shorn, but I do see a couple lazarco around as well.”
“Dayum,” Inelius said more to himself than anyone else.
“How should we proceed?” Veolo asked.
Inelius tightened his brow and looked at Amalia. Then he keyed up his comm and said, “I don’t know, you tell me.”
She took a few moments before responding. “We’ve got a solid count on how many there are. Their gear doesn’t look any more advanced than what we’ve already seen on the planet, most likely scavenged. We pull out for now, report back, assess from there.”
“Excellent work,” Inelius told her. “Regroup back where we split up, I want out of this dust bowl.”
He turned to Amalia and held out a hand. “Here, give me my pack back.”
She took a couple steps back. “What? No, I can carry it just fine. I need the endurance training.”
“Yeah, but you move slower and I want to get back before Garrin picks us up.”
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She took a few more steps back. “Nuh uh. You can have it back if you can catch me.” She started semi-jogging back the way they came.
He just grinned and walked after her.
By the time they made it back to the town’s outskirts, the sun had dropped enough to cast long shadows across the dry roads. The path wound between splintered fences and half-buried cable runs, the cracked soil beneath them giving way to a rough, gravel-packed thoroughfare.
Boadicea wasn’t much to look at. The buildings were a patchwork of recycled metal, sun-warped wood, and LU-issue prefab paneling, some still bearing faded serial numbers. Most stood no higher than two stories, leaning in quiet protest against the wind. One building had a fresh coat of red paint, maybe trying to look new, but it was already peeling at the corners.
Livestock roamed loose across some outer lots, lean, sun-darkened creatures that looked like hybrids between cows, goats, and something armored. A few kids chased them with long sticks, shouting in a mix of local dialect and broken Terr-English. Every structure buzzed with flies or groaned under the weight of disrepair. It wasn’t lawless, but it had a long way to go before Inelius would call it ‘comfortable.’
As they moved deeper into town, heads started turning.
Locals watched from shaded porches and low-hanging awnings, their eyes narrowing or widening depending on their various opinions of what they saw. Some nodded in the polite, performative way that said “I know you’re LU, but I don’t like it.” Others just stared—openly, hungrily, at the lacravida attire that showed off more skin and curves than anyone in town knew how to process. The planet was too hot for them to don the full armor they had been using over the past several months, so they had reverted to what they were used to wearing on Nox: armor plates, airy robes, and little else.
Inelius heard a multitude of mutters and whispers as they passed.
Amalia’s ears flicked like radar, and she murmured, “Friendly place,” with a smile.
Inelius didn’t answer. He was scanning upward.
At the far end of the main strip, a larger building loomed, three stories tall, with a flat roof and twin solar fans lazily rotating. It was the only structure in town that looked like someone had maintained it with actual care. The windows were cleaned, the balcony rails freshly welded.
And there he was.
Venlin Dread stood on the third-story balcony, his loose white shirt billowing in the breeze. Rings glinted on all four hands as he leaned against the railing like a man surveying his land. His lazarco hide was black with red lines accenting in a devilishly attractive manner. Two shorn stood near the balcony door behind him, armed and bored.
He didn’t wave or nod at anyone, he just watched the town from on high.
Inelius squinted up and felt the same thing he always did when dealing with decorated politicians in dirty places: the performative ease of someone who let others bleed for his comfort. Inelius was trying hard to not judge the book named Dread by its cover.
“We reporting in now?” Amalia asked.
“Not yet,” Inelius said. “Let’s find the others first.”
They cut across the northern alleyways to avoid more stares.
Technically, the team had been assigned to a low-slung outpost on the edge of town, what the locals generously referred to as “The North Wing.” It was an old equipment depot that had been half-heartedly converted into personnel quarters sometime in the last decade. The floors creaked, the lights flickered, and the thin-framed beds had proven completely useless after the first night. When they’d walked into the building, Aurania had audibly sighed, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
Then Soren sat on a bed and snapped the frame clean in half, and that was all they had the patience for.
The Ghost of Mandachor was parked not far from The North Wing, near a cluster of dried-out storage silos. They had taken the bedding they were offered and set up sleeping arrangements aboard their favorite shuttle. It’s not like they weren’t used to laying in a big pile already. Their ship also had better climate control than the drafty building that reeked of mildew, it just was a little annoying having to juggle their weapons, gear, and bedding depending on the time of day. They still planned to use The North Wing for daytime staging, gear prep, and planning, but their weapons and armor never stayed there long. Too many strange eyes in town, too many hands that might get curious.
Inelius pushed open the depot’s rattling door and stepped inside. The air was a little cooler, but it still smelled like dust, oil, and sweat. Brana sat at the back table, elbows braced on a stripped-down stabilizer she was repairing. A mostly empty bottle of water sat beside her and a simple handgun was strapped to her thigh.
“You’re back,” she said without looking up. “Shoot anyone?”
“Not this time,” Inelius said. “Where’s everyone else?”
“They just moved gear back to The Ghost and then I think they’re headed to that local saloon.”
“Really?” Amalia excitedly chirped.
“Yeah, Aura said it’s time to introduce themselves to the locals instead of ducking between glances. I should have this patched in the next 5-10 minutes and then I’ll be over to watch the fireworks.”
Inelius laughed. “So Aura’s practicing that ‘Admiral Marrow’ set of diplomatic skills she’s working on.” He turned to Veolo. “Come on, let’s go drop our gear, I have a feeling you’re going to be needed tonight.”
A spark of excitement lit up in her eyes. The girl loved to brawl.
The Ghost of Mandachor’s hull was already coated with red dust, and a few sand-worn storage crates had been stacked to form a makeshift perimeter. A pair of thermal tarps flapped lazily over the entry ramp. Riza sat on one of the crates, leaned back against the hull with one leg propped up. One hand held a thick paperback, the other absently flipped a dagger the length of his forearm—up, down, catch, spin.
“No one bleeding.” She turned a page without looking up. “That’s either good or boring.”
“We’re pacing ourselves,” Inelius walked past her and up the ramp and dropped his rifle in the hold.
Veolo unlatched her pauldrons and let them fall into the open storage bin with a heavy thunk. “Good book?”
Riza tilted her head. “It’s about an assassin who falls in love with her target.”
“Ooooh,” Amalia said, setting NMW down like it was a sleeping child. “Can I read it when I’m on gear guard?”
Riza smirked, eyes still scanning the page. “You gonna use all my things?” She glanced down at her cannon. “It’s all dusty.”
Amalia’s eyes went wide and bashful. “I’m sorry, I’ll get it cleaned right up!”
Riza gave her a warm look, then stopped the girl from moving forward with one of her hooves. She pushed Amalia’s hip, spinning her around, then gave her butt a light kick. “Go play, just clean it before morning please.”
Inelius pulled off the last of his gear and walked back down the ramp. “We’re heading to the saloon. You need anything?”
She glanced up at him, eyes sharp as usual. “I’m good. You just missed the rest of them, but you better hurry before the ‘introductions’ are all finished.”
They set out back into town, the dry wind feeling better without the weight of weapons and armor. Inelius wore simple trousers and a light tunic that breathed. Violet and Amalia were both spilling out of their halter tops, and simple, light belts held long pieces of robe in the front and back of their groins. Their legs, hips, arms, midsections, almost everything was free to the wind.
Inelius barely noticed anymore.
Veolo wore a similar waist piece, but her chest wrap was tied tighter to actually hold things in. She was already wrapping tape around her knuckles as they walked.
“You’re not intentionally going to start a fight, are you?” he asked.
“What?” she answered with humor in her voice. “No, of course not,”
“She’s just always prepared,” Violet said.
The girls chatted more as they walked. Violet said something about Veolo’s figure coming in nicely. Amalia said she hoped her chest wrap failed because it would make a good distraction for whoever she was pounding on.
The saloon was squat and wide, like someone had built it to withstand storms and then forgot to add charm. A creaking ceiling fan stirred stale air over mismatched tables, and the floor was a patchwork of wood, metal, and someone’s bad attempt at concrete. A haze hung in the air, some mix of dust, tobacco, and whatever passed for liquor in this part of the planet.
Inelius stepped through the swinging doors and the chatter inside dipped a little. Handfuls of lazarco, d’moria and shorn sat around tables talking, smoking, and drinking. But when Amalia, Veolo, and Violet followed behind him, that’s when things really slowed.
A man at the nearest table leaned back in his chair, eyes dragging from Amalia’s large chest to her bare midsection. Another nudged his companion, who turned just in time to watch Violet walk past their table. Veolo’s taped fists and lean muscle drew longer stares, some wary, some fascinated. The three of them cut striking silhouettes against the dusty haze of the saloon, all gleaming skin, full curves, and confident eyes.
Half the reason Aurania had sent them out of town today was because most of the locals had never even seen a lacravida before, let alone met one. They started getting stares the instant they stepped on the planet, and Aurania wanted to feel the situation out before throwing the girls in the middle of it. She was less worried about her team’s well-being, and more concerned about killing a local on their first day.
They passed a pair of shorn playing cards, one of them openly staring as his lips curled. Someone back near the entrance let out a low whistle that was just soft enough to feign deniability. Inelius saw and heard all of it, but the girls didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.
Amalia just smiled and walked along. “They’re all so friendly,” she said plenty loud for everyone to hear.
“There’s no way you’re that dense,” Violet muttered.
“Nah,” she responded mischievously.
Aurania, Soren, Tamiyo, and Raine were at a large table not far from the bar. Tamiyo and Raine were seated and cautiously sipping from wide mugs. Soren was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, none of the chairs were likely built to hold over 700 pounds.
Aurania was leaning against the wall next to him with her arms crossed. Her robes draped like royal banners and concealed no more than the other girls’, but her practiced glare seemed to be warding off most of the looks.
Brolgar’s voice caught Inelius’ attention as they neared the table. He was up at the bar talking with the d’moria serving drinks, but his tone was a couple notches above calm. “Y’call this food?!” he blustered out. “I can shit better grub than this, y’should be ashamed t’call yerself d’moria.”
The bartender answered back in an even thicker drawl and matching tone, but Inelius noted that the two didn’t actually seem to be fighting. He’d watched Brolgar and Brana have similar conversations a handful of times on The Resolute Wind. D’moria just had a tendency to yell at each other in normal conversation.
“How you guys liking your first day on Mol’eyne?” Soren asked. “Cuz I have sand everywhere.”
“It smells like balls in here,” Violet answered. “Sweat and balls.”
“Sweaty balls?” Raine asked playfully.
“No,” Amalia played along, “It’s like two distinct stenches. Kinda burns my nose.”
Inelius looked at Aurania. “So how much fun does it look like we’re going to have here?”
She locked eyes with him. “I might legitimately slap Garrin for leaving us here.”
“That good, huh?”
“Apparently, there’s only ever been one other lacravida show up in these parts, she’s supposed to be around here somewhere.” Aurania stepped over and picked up Tamiyo’s mug, throwing a gulp into her mouth. She halfway swallowed, then spit it back out onto the floor. “Gods, that shit could strip paint. And I think it’s where the sweaty balls smell is coming from.”
“Well the scenery is nice enough at least,” Inelius said. “In a dry ass way.”
“I kind of wish I had gone with you,” Soren told him. “Humans are also apparently rare here, so I’ve been getting a bunch of looks too.”
“Well you are really tall for a human,” Inelius said.
The two CIPHERs were giggling to each other.
“That’s not even the best part, Babe,” Raine said.
“Oh?” Inelius crossed his upper arms and raised a brow.
Soren looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Tamiyo smiled and tilted her head far enough back to look at him. “This joke is following you looonng after we leave this planet.”
Inelius, Violet, Veolo, and Amalia all stared, waiting to hear what they were talking about.
Raine smiled at Violet. “You lied to me.”
“About…?”
Raine snorted and jabbed a thumb at Soren. “Behold! A male lacravida!”
The CIPHERs burst out giggling and soon everyone except Soren was laughing. He was at least grinning while he hid his face in his palm. When the laughter finally died down, Amalia said, “Please, someone explain, I have to know more.”
“The locals here don’t know anything about humans or lacravida,” Tamiyo said with a huge grin. “We were out surveying the different areas we’ll be helping around town and someone just kind of assumed so we rolled with it before Soren could correct him.”
“I hate you all,” Soren grinned, his face beet red.
As the laughter around their table died down, the atmosphere in the saloon slowly started to shift. The locals had been listening in and eyeing them up. One group of four shorn at a nearby table had clearly been talking about them for a while now, their posture loose and their eyes sharper than their words.
One of them stood up. He wasn’t big, not by lacravida standards, but he had that rough-mouthed swagger that came from being the loudest man in a quiet town. He was maybe in his mid-thirties with a half-buttoned shirt, a drink in his hand that wasn’t his first, and those long wrist-blades all shorn had. He made a slow walk over toward the group, half-drunk confidence in every step. He smiled wide and stopped a few feet from their table, eyes locked on Amalia.
“Now, I know y’all ain’t from around here,” he started, voice raised enough for others to hear. “But damn. You sure know how to dress for the weather.”
Amalia glanced up with a smile. “It’s hot.”
“Sure is.” His eyes dragged down her body. “But it gets mighty cold at night. I can make sure you stay warm.”
“Aww.” She looked back at the group. “Isn’t he sweet?” Then she told him. “I keep pretty warm already, but I do appreciate the offer.”
Rather than be deterred, the man tried changing targets. He picked Violet. “Now you look like you know how to handle yourself, little lady. How’d you like to handle me?”
She stared back with an expression somewhere between amusement and boredom. “Do those types of lines actually work around here?”
“‘Course they do!” He spouted proudly. “Ain’t no woman in town don’t want what I can give them.”
Inelius leaned in near Soren and whispered, “A disease?”
“Alright,” Aurania sighed loud enough for the entire saloon to pay attention. “I suppose we should get this over with.”
She stepped toward the center of the room. “You all are going to be seeing a lot of us over the next month, we’re helping the Liberty Union do some basic support around town.”
Someone in the back said something about wanting to see as much of her as possible, but she ignored it.
“We’ll also be looking into these raider problems you’ve been having,” she continued. “Now I know this is your home. We don’t mean to be any kind of intrusive, but since most of you seem unfamiliar with our culture, let me give you the highlights. The only thing my girls here like more than fucking is fighting.”
There were some noises of excitement around the room.
“And since I get the distinct impression you all only heard half of what I just said, let me make sure we have an understanding. I don’t give a shit how much you look, we make no apologies for who we are. But we are here to help, and I promise it is in your best interest to treat my girls with respect.” She glared around the room, making sure everyone saw just how big she was.
For a moment, Inelius’ attention was drawn away by Brana sidling up next to him with a long pipe in one hand. She let a big puff of fragrant smoke out and asked, “What’d I miss?”
“Ohh, I think you got here just in time,” Inelius reached forward to pull Raine and Tamiyo’s chairs away from the table. He started rubbing Raine’s shoulders and looked back at the entertainment just as the loud-mouth shorn swaggered up next to Veolo.
“And what if I just want you to suck my dick?” He smacked her ass.
Inelius’ ears popped.
Tamiyo let out a small, “Ohh noo.”
Veolo stared back at the man for a long moment, not even looking angry. Then she shrugged, said, “Just ask…”
And put his face through their table.