Going about his day felt extraordinarily difficult and paranoid for Vertan, given what had happened last night.

  Nothing could ease his mind, and his anxieties began to manifest in physical forms. A persisting abdominal pain continued to claw at him, somewhat dull but hurting just enough to make the day out running errands an insufferable experience.

  But what was he to do? His mind raced for answers.

  He needed a solution, and fast. His mother had offered Lym a stay at her home, having set up a cot in the living room. She still seemed to be in the phase of offering her acts of kindness and gratitude after bringing Vertan home, and couldn’t understand his concerns. There was no way to voice it. Even without the terms hanging over him, he would still sound like a deranged madman.

  Vertan had allowed it this time, but the stay can only be temporary; Lym cannot remain there forever. It was far too risky. Despite what he had witnessed of her as an ordinary person the past several hours, Vertan found himself constantly in a state of unease. He wondered if her mere presence will cause the house to implode under no context or precondition.

  He knows what kind of destruction she is capable of, he swears! He also has no way to prove it, even if he were allowed to speak. He had only ever seen one other individual like her, several long years ago, in which came in the aftermath of witnessing absolute carnage. Who was to believe him if he proclaimed that this ordinary, somewhat disabled, looking woman can destroy the planet? What sane person would believe this, from the hermit lunatic hiding out in the woods?

  Does he believe that? Is that correlation even correct?

  But most severely, he felt the eyes of the system boring down on his shoulders. This risk to him felt even greater than the previously mentioned raw power. He wonders if they already know. His mother is willfully harboring Lym in their house. Surely, there will be a show of force because of this. They can label her anything from “conspiracy to commit a terrorist act” to “demon sympathizer”. And yet his terms forbid him from informing her of this situation. To do so will also mean death.

  It’s not fair—!

  “Hey,” says the vendor.

  Vertan blinks out of his stupor. He is once again back in the middle of the busy market square, traffic of people and vehicles bustling around him.

  “Hm?” Vertan mumbles.

  “You’ve been standing there awhile,” says the vendor. “You gonna pick anything?”

  “Oh, um, yes,” mumbles Vertan, picking out fruits, vegetables, and other foods for his mother. Those were the last bits for the day. Absent mindedly, he hands the vendor significantly more cash than he should.

  “Um, that’s quite a bit, let me get you some change—”

  “Keep it.”

  “...Alright then, my lucky day!”

  Vertan begins to make his way home, the now full container floating along, following him, as he continues to think.

  If he continues to allow Lym safe harbor, the risk of the Coalition finding out and bringing harm and danger will increase. Could he get away with keeping her behind closed doors in the meantime?

  If he informs his mother, action will be taken against him for violation of his non-disclosure agreement. Could he get away with whispers behind closed doors? How would they find out?

  If he somehow manages to rid themselves of Lym anyway, there is now a liability running about in the Myriad Worlds that can cost more lives and also be traced back to him. Could they actually trace it back to him?

  Silly. Stupid. Vertan considers slapping himself for a moment. The Coalition is “investing” and “developing” in this formerly fringe and irrelevant world for a reason. No doubt had he not come back from the Expeditions, they wouldn’t be here. They want to make sure the game goes by their rules and that he stays in his place without trying anything funny.

  A Coalition warship rumbles overhead, momentarily blotting out the sun high up in the sky. A fury consumes Vertan; he wished for the stupid thing to blow up and crash into the sea ahead.

  Finally making it home, Vertan comes up over the hill, and in front of him—

  “Mum, what are you doing?!” he exclaimed.

  Mother Zviedal looks up from the day’s work. With her outside is Lym.

  “What?” she calls back. “I see you’re back from your errands, did you remember everything?”

  “Yes, I did,” Vertan replies, walking closer. “I thought I told you not to let anyone see her!”

  “Nobody will! We live far out here and she’s just been helping me with work around the house.”

  “I just saw a warship fly overhead, what if they saw you, huh?”

  “We’re like tiny ants down here, what are they actually going to notice?”

  “Mum—”

  “What has gotten into you? Calm down for a moment, won’t you!”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “No I don’t! You won’t tell me anything. You expect me to believe that? If she’s such a dangerous individual like you told me, then we can turn her in when they come.”

  “That will put us into even more trouble!”

  “For being honest and following the law? Quit being stupid! Where is your kindness and gratitude to her? All I’ve seen from you is animosity towards her. Have you considered that she’s far from home with nowhere to stay?”

  “I know, and I have! I just—look, I don’t know what to do! I just know it’s dangerous for us the longer she is here! We can’t just keep letting her overstay her welcome.”

  “She hasn’t been here a day! And this is my house, you know. If it bothers you so much, you can go off back to your place that you don’t even tell me about. I’m still upset with that, you know!”

  “I can’t just do that! This affects all of us! I can’t just—”

  “Hello.”

  Vertan almost jumps, and whirls around to find Lym standing there.

  How did she walk up so quietly?

  Before her, she holds on one arm a very large stack of cinderite blocks, likely weighing several tons combined. She appears to stand completely upright, as though the weight to her was nothing more than a cup of tea. She sets this stack down near the small construction site that Mother Zviedal had been working on.

  “Good to see you are back, Vertan,” she says, bowing politely.

  For a moment, Vertan is stunned and at a loss for words.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “I know you are concerned with my stay here, and I understand,” she continues. “I hope you can forgive me; I feel obligated that I return some favors to your mother for her extended hospitality.”

  “See?” Mother Zviedal quips. “Isn’t she such a sweetheart? She’s been helping me build the foundation for our new sauna today! Ooh, with her strength, this is going to be wonderful—”

  “H—How are you speaking so well already?” stammers Vertan in shock.

  “Oh, my goodness, I forgot to tell you,” says Mother Zviedal. “I took her with me to town earlier today while you were at the markets running errands. Don’t you worry, I had her face concealed just like you would’ve wanted, so I’ve thought about it. I had to return a book I was reading to the library, and she told me she read through the whole place by the time I was done! How silly, right?”

  “I did read through the library, ma’am,” says Lym. “There wasn’t much.”

  “Quick learner, isn’t she? I figure she went straight to the languages section and got to work.”

  “I went through every section, ma’am.”

  Vertan continued to stand there in stunned silence.

  “Alright son, you’ve been standing there long enough, and it’s hot out. Why don’t you both go inside? I’ll make us a meal soon.”

  Nodding, Vertan leads the floating container back inside the small house, and unloads the groceries into storage. Lym stares curiously at the container, both her biological and mechanical eyes analyzing it.

  “Does it bother you that I am here?” she asks.

  Vertan turns around, slightly anxious.

  “Um, n—no,” he stammers. “Why do you ask?”

  “You do not have to lie,” she continues. “I can leave.”

  “N—no, it’s fine, actually,” stutters Vertan. “Besides, where would you go?”

  Stupid! What am I doing? he thought.

  “I will simply go elsewhere,” replies Lym. “I will survive.”

  “But where would you stay?”

  “I don’t have to stay anywhere.”

  “What are you going to do, just sleep out under the stars every night?”

  “I have not slept in over fifteen hundred of your years. I will be fine.”

  Vertan blinks. She didn’t seem at all hostile, resentful, or otherwise passively aggressive as she said this. He is met with only pragmatic straightforwardness.

  “No, actually, you can stay, please stay.”

  “Why?”

  “My mother will kill me.”

  “She will? Cruel culture.”

  “No, not really—it’s an expression of ours.”

  “She will be very upset with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting expression.”

  “Do you ever stop analyzing?”

  “No.”

  Vertan looks out the window in paranoia for a second, his fingers drumming on the kitchen countertop.

  “Alright, look,” he continues. “I know we haven’t had the chance to talk as much, but it’s easier now that you speak so fluently. You can stay here, and I mean it, alright?”

  “Alright,” replies Lym.

  “But you have to understand that it’s not safe for you here,” says Vertan. “There are bad people out there looking for you, and if they find out you’re here, we’re all in trouble. I need you to be careful.”

  “Already?” asks Lym. “How quick of them.”

  “No, sorry, I meant they have always been looking for people like you,” says Vertan. “I mean sure, it would be quick of them if they were to find you here so soon—”

  “My kind?” says Lym. “Of course.”

  Vertan raises his eyebrow at this.

  “‘My kind’?” he asks. “‘Of course’? What do you mean by that?”

  Lym continues to face Vertan with the same pragmatic expression.

  “My kind have been in this war for millions of years,” she continues. “This is unsurprising.”

  *****

  The most dangerous thing in the universe is truth and knowledge. Information. Its spread. No quasar or black hole could ever come close to matching its raw power.

  The following several weeks were especially stressful for Vertan. Lym stuck out like a sore thumb. He attempted in all manners of teaching her local customs, culture, and ways of carrying herself, so as to lower suspicion.

  Frustratingly to him, he knows that she has an innate ability to learn and adapt very quickly. She could pick up any academic subject, textbook, or reading, and would have analyzed and learned it to completion that same day, what would take a normal person a full semester. So by this reasoning, he knows that she makes a deliberate choice not to do what he wants. Eventually she tells him that she prefers her way of carrying herself, not out of any individualistic sense, but as a means to preserve her people’s cultural and traditional customs down to the letter. Vertan begrudgingly let this slide as he quietly wondered what kind of society hardwires this into someone so strongly.

  She quickly becomes well-liked by some parts of the local community for her strength and quiet efficiency. Vertan hated the attention it drew, though he couldn’t argue against the positive improvements that she brought. He could only, figuratively and literally, bite his nails nervously as his anxiety gnawed at him.

  An unspoken tension between the two continues to persist, and a shared unwillingness to speak leaves the two a mystery to the other. Mother Zviedal on the other hand is very pleased with her newly completed sauna.

  One day, Vertan once more embarks on his walk into the woods to where his secret cabin is. Making his way through the thick, he traces his steps as he—

  Vertan runs into something, and falls backwards, rubbing his face in pain. Confusedly, he looks back up to find that there was nothing.

  Tentatively, he reaches back out, and in the middle of nothing, his hands brush up against…something. Something hard and tough.

  Suddenly, the previously invisible object comes into view, and he is met with the face of his nightmares. Vertan yelps. That armored demon. The black void behind its eyes. The—

  “Are you alright?”

  Vertan yelps again.

  Scrambling to his feet and turning around, he finds Lym behind him.

  “C—can you stop doing that?!” he exclaims, exasperated. “You’re so quiet! What are you doing following me?”

  “Apologies,” she says. “I was not. I am here for my suit.”

  Vertan looks back at the thing behind him, which continues to stand there.

  “Th—that thing?” he stammers.

  “Correct,” replies Lym. “Powered armor suit.”

  “Wh—why is it here?”

  “Would you rather I have kept it at your mother’s residence?”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “A crucial part of its navigation system is damaged. I cannot leave this planet otherwise.”

  “Really? So you need to fix it?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, the locals have no suitable tools for what I am looking for so far. I have traveled most of the continent already.”

  “Most of the continent? How? Where are you getting the money? How are you getting on flights with no identification—?”

  “I don’t. I travel on foot.”

  “How—? Oh, right.”

  “Perhaps you have the tools necessary, mystery-man?”

  “Did you just call me ‘mystery-man’? You don’t usually talk like that.”

  “It was an attempt to make light of the situation.”

  “Alright, well…”

  Vertan paused in speech for a moment, thinking.

  “Well, if you need to get off the planet,” he continues. “Fine. Follow me.”

  “Thank you,” says Lym, bowing again.

  Vertan began leading the way. Without even so much as a glance, Lym’s powered armor suit comes to life, and begins following behind her, making soft mechanical sounds and the thud of its footsteps on the ground, unnerving Vertan for a moment. The air immediately surrounding it appeared to wave and distort from its presence upon powering up.

  “So, um, that thing can just act independently of you, huh?” Vertan asks.

  “No,” replies Lym.

  “But it’s following you?”

  “It is an extension of my body. Of course it would.”

  The two continue to walk in silence for another moment.

  “So, what’s your plan then? To fix, whatever it is?”

  “My gunship crashed elsewhere on this planet, and I have yet to find it. Fixing my suit’s navigation will allow me to track it back down.”

  “And you need your gunship to get off-world? Couldn’t we try booking you a ticket first?”

  “My gunship contains the information for my navigation back home. This was corrupted on my suit when I crashed here.”