“If the Spiral watches, do not hurry.”

  Drexari Scout proverb, unranked clades

  When Feebee came round it was to the calm voice of the QI filling her mind, smooth and even.

  ‘Nanite alteration detected. Unclassified signature. Monitoring adaptation. No immediate threat identified – 95% confidence. Bodily repairs in progress. Changes to...’

  ‘Shut up. Am I going to live?’

  ‘Thanks for looking after me. No, you’re welcome.’ The QI paused, ‘And Yes, it’s good that you’re awake, about time.’

  ‘Alteration? What alteration? What’s the source?’ She asked, more through instinct than a need to know.

  ‘Unknown. The serpent or the motes – 33%. The Drexari – 13%. The…’

  ‘Stop.’

  Feebee smiled, ‘You don’t know, do you?’

  ‘Correct. This is outside the contextual perimeters of my corpus.’ Then the QI said something Feebee had never heard it say before, ‘Your guess is as good as mine on this one.’

  She laughed; more pain. ‘Don’t make me laugh.’

  ‘Ack,’ came back from the QI.

  Meanwhile, somewhen else… The Long Quiet updated.

  ASSESSMENT: Subject stabilised.

  Resonance returned to equilibrium.

  QUIETUS PROTOCOL: STANDBY.

  No further correction required.

  SECONDARY EFFECTS:

  Bond integrity sustained.

  Nanite convergence accepted as persistent state.

  THREAT ENVIRONMENT: Clear.

  OUTCOME: Balance holds.

  STATUS: WATCHFUL

  Meanwhile, back then, somewhere safe and away from the action… Chen was sitting in his office; aboard his ship. Two of his bosses, senior commanders, were projected onto the desk in front of him. They conferred as they reviewed comms transcripts and written reports.

  One turned, “So, let me get this right. Your plan was always to remain hidden. Allow some of the pirates to escape. You’d follow them back to their base. Destroy the base and remove the troublesome pirates. And finally, return for your people.”

  “Yes Sir!” he responded crisply.

  The bosses looked to each other. “And how did that work out?”

  “The plan was sound but based upon bad intel from J2.” Chen started to elaborate, “J2 is the Intelligence Dir…”

  “Damit man. I know who J2 are. They work for me. All of them.”

  Chen continued, “The activity of the hostiles based on the intel was indicative of pirates.”

  “And that assumption was based on what?” asked the head of J2.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “The report issued by J2 said there was a credible threat. I didn’t believe it was just pirates but went along with that story. That’s why I sent Jones and her squad…”

  He let his voice trail off.

  “Speak freely. Continue.”

  “I didn’t send the fleet, according to doctrine. That could have escalated, got out of hand very quickly. I sent in Jones’s team. Off the book. Deniable. That’s why I went along with the pirate’s story. We got the job done; quickly and quietly. And stopped the invasion before any declarations of war could be made. Good outcome if you ask me.”

  The two Commanders looked shocked, but Chen’s post-incident report matched the facts as he had presented them. As did the comms. He had repeatedly told Jones he was waiting to follow a ship from the ‘pirates’. It hung together.

  They shook their heads and shrugged. “Ok. That’ll be all. For now.”

  Somewhere else…

  Vol’Shaar had replayed the incident many times; the Scout had been too eager, and once it had lost discipline, the result was inevitable.

  But then, zhe realised there was nothing inevitable about motes coming to the rescue of a human, or a Scout popping apart and dissolving.

  Or someone being skewered, bleeding out, then recovering in no time at all.

  There were no carvings for this. Nothing cut into ancient bone or whispered in the clade’s lore. It stood beyond legend, beyond stillness. What is possible? zhe wondered with new perspective. Zhe looked back at the human. It was remarkably resilient, almost unkillable.

  How had it recovered so quickly? Zhe’d like to think zher field medicine could do the same but knew better, zhe’d done little.

  Lie the human down, keep it warm and feed it chocolate the QI had instructed. It wasn’t much but it was a favour returned; honour salved.

  Zher bonds were loose but still in place – more a symbol than a reality of restraint.

  The human was staring at zher and snarled as it got up. Holding its side, where the knife had been. It picked up the Instrument of Reckoning and carried it on its shoulders.

  Sigils lit up along the Instrument’s body. Motes sat like glowing beads of light on glyphs, pulsing, alive.

  The Instrument’s head seemed bigger, the body longer and there were more glyphs than before.

  Had it somehow grown?

  Who had carved it new memories?

  Was this how they celebrated, carving memories into the bones of the Instrument? Had the human kept zher alive so it could celebrate a glorious victory and carve more memories?

  The thoughts made no sense; they had both helped save the other’s life. The hot blood seemed to have an awareness and ‘honour system’ closely aligned with that of zher Drexari clade.

  Before zhe could ponder this more, the human sat down just out of reach but close enough for their stench to invade zher senses.

  It touched its chest and said, “Feebee.” Then pointed and asked, “Your name?”

  Why did it want a name? Not out of mercy; they were brutal death-world predators.

  So that zher name could be carved, or worse, desecrated?

  These were zher first thoughts, but they were quickly replaced by a different mind-set, informed by recent events and critical thoughts.

  Zhe stayed still, quiet.

  “Thank you for tending my wound,” then after a pause… it continued, “Me Feebee. You?” it repeated as if talking to a crecheling.

  ‘Am I making sense to it?’ Feebee asked the QI.

  ‘It’s listening and can hear. Earlier, I projected to it directly.’

  Then Vol’Shaar responded to Feebee, loud and clear with sound. Zhe did not want the human to take control or feel superior.

  “We have one name to share, one name for silence. My shared name is Vol’Shaar, Egg carrier and decorated chief from the elite war-clade Vol.”

  Feebee shrugged, “Wow, that’s a mouthful,” she muttered. “I’m thinking something shorter.”

  Then, after a pause. “I’ll call you Ember,” she said with a smile. “Because you look like you’ve survived a thousand fires.”

  Vol’Shaar processed the words from the human, rechecked the translation and felt herself falling into shock.

  It had named zher – Ember.

  Zhe struggled for control, retreating into a cold place where zhe became a study of stillness. Only awareness. Ony breath.

  Zhe forced herself to witness the content of now and replay the moment of bestowal.

  It was the only way zhe could endure the moment. Once named, you are whole.

  It had named zher – Ember. A name of flame, of endurance through ruin. A myth-word. A title carved in bone, old ancient bone whispered by Shadow Hands, never spoken aloud.

  Ember was The One who Walked Alone. The one who danced ancient steps to ancient tunes around the pyres of death and war carrying truth in silence.

  Ember was Cold Discipline. Balance restored.

  Zhe had no silent name.

  Not until now.

  And this human; this imposter, this heretic who was one with an Instrument of Reckoning had given zher a silent name.

  Because zhe’d survived a thousand fires.

  Impossible.

  Yet…it burned true.