-Amerys The Once Wise God of the Aetheri-

  Niva wraps around my leg for a moment before Cortez picks her up, petting her softly and scratching right behind her ear just like she likes.

  “Do you think I should order her something?” Cortez asks.

  “I saw some milk and tuna over there,” I say, pointing to one side of the black granite countertops.

  The argument ensues over the Tran debacle.

  “We aren’t a group with the luxury of worrying about other worlds and their problems,” Greymore says, glaring at Dorliac, “Earth always comes first.”

  “She’s not saying that we should put Earth second,” Cortez says, as she walks to get Niva food, “She’s saying that we should always try to do things the right way.”

  Greymore sighs, “Fucking hell, should we start planting trees too?”

  “And introduce invasive species to a world?” Dorliac quips, taking her martini back from her boyfriend Brussels, “Just add to the fuck you fire we leave on worlds.”

  Greymore is about to speak, but Clayton speaks instead, “You know what he meant, and he’s not wrong.”

  Dorliac rolls her eyes, “So, you agree with Colonel Greymore? Nice that you have your own thoughts,” her tone is abrasive. She’s definitely tipsy too, which answers my question of whether or not you can get drunk in this place between places, wherever we are.

  Decidedly you can.

  “I’m a Major now, Lieutenant,” Greymore says, then grumbles, “Stop reminding me they demoted my old ass.”

  I’m also starting to think that this might not be a completely artificial environment. The food feels like it’s filling my belly, and Barlow is complaining about heartburn to Tran.

  I’ve been asking for things that don’t typically fall under the food category, and the system doesn’t seem keen to give me the requested items, the blue text boxes are making that much clear.

  [ Incompatible food item request detected based on Hunter’s anatomy. ]

  [ Note: Ingesting nuclear materials will result in the expiration of your body. ]

  I try a few more things while the argument begins to heat up. Everyone’s always looking to pass the blame, to say that they’d do better if given the option.

  [ Note: Ingesting non edible materials may cause intestinal blockage resulting in a decreased life expectancy. ]

  The truth is that doing better is as subjective as happiness. Expecting that you can do more than you can is a pitfall type of logic. It leaves you dissatisfied with what you achieve, even if you’re surpassing your old standards of measurement. We people are fickle things after all.

  [ Note: Ingesting corrosive chemicals will cause decreased life expectancy. ]

  Under my breath, I whisper my next request, “I’d like to eat tomes of knowledge that specifically describe the innerworkings of magic.”

  [ Note: Pathological lying is defined as a disorder on your home world. ]

  [ Further Note: Would you like to speak with a behavioral health counseling admin for your suicidal ideation? There is always hope, so long as you believe there is, given that hope is a subjective thing. Objectively it does not exist at all. ]

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  I’ll keep trying, that’s what I do. Stress test everything until I break something. Meanwhile the system hasn’t said anything else since it told us about Tran’s biological nuke he carries around in his gut biome.

  “You keep fucking saying the right way,” Clayton says with an angry chuckle, shaking his head, “There is no right way, just the way that gets shit done before our people start dying.”

  Zero, the silent archer puts a hand on his shoulder, Clayton turns and nods to her, when he’s calm she moves the hand.

  “We’re not saying that quickly completing a quest is a bad thing, just that we should be mindful,” Cleo says, her tone isn’t as abrasive as Dorliac’s, but she is trying to get her point across.

  “Why aren’t you saying anything, babe?” Dorliac asks Brussels.

  “I uh…” he begins, clears his throat and takes a well traveled path, downs his drink and leaves to refill hers.

  “Probably because he agrees with us,” Clayton says with a smirk.

  Next, Gilroy and Mwangi start debating whether or not they should punish Tran, and then that turns into a pissing contest with Greymore and his crew because they technically outrank them, even if the chain of command is still in flux.

  It’s times like these that I can appreciate though, even in the animosity there’s learning. I like having a team with diverse opinions, it means our solutions are also diverse.

  “At the end of the day,” Mira says loud enough to get everyone to stop talking, stretching like a cat and sprawling across one of the sofas, her dragon Sylfie snuggles up and rests her head on her leg, “None of you servants get to decide anything,” she looks at me, leaning back into the sofa, a wry smile on her lips, “It’s his choice.”

  “Servants?” Dorliac seethes, turning all her pent up frustration toward Mira, “All right, Mira, I think I speak for everyone when I say, we’ve had enough of your passive aggressive condescension.”

  The now dog sized dragon snorts a puff of smoke and lets out a low growl.

  “Amber,” Cortez says, stepping toward Dorliac, “Deep breath.”

  Mira smirks, then looks down at her polished nails, splaying them outward and holding them up to the light, the tips are sharper than a normal person’s, her tone is dismissive as she says, “I don’t think I was being passive.”

  Dorliac squints at her, then blinks, “I don’t care how strong she is, she’s a bully and…” she downs her drink, handing it to Brussels who promptly refills it, “And she’s a proper fucking cunt.”

  “She’s not wrong,” Clayton agrees, then looking at Zero’s disappointed stare, “What, she said it, not me.” The stare narrows and he finishes with, “Sorry, Mira.”

  “Okay, everyone, settle down,” I say, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalates, “We’re a team. Let’s play nice.”

  “If that’s what you want, darling,” Mira smiles.

  “How long are we going to be in this fucking room?” Greymore grumbles.

  “Three days,” Mira says while stretching and making herself more comfortable.

  Everyone stops and looks at her.

  “Three days?” I ask.

  “Yes, typically.”

  Tran moves forward, “What if…” he looks around, “Hypothetically I need to take a shit?”

  “Have more species you want to genocide?” Dorliac asks him, downing her drink again and passing it to Brussels, he doesn’t seem sure if he should keep refilling it or risk her ire, been there, done that. Not envious of him.

  “That’s not fair,” I say shaking my head, “He didn’t know that would happen.”

  Gilroy scratches his head, “I’m sorry, Novak, but he shit in the only source of drinkable water, he had to know that was fucked up.”

  After letting out a sigh, I turn to Mira and ask, “Is there a place to bathe and do other things?”

  “Yes, walk toward the wall and select the option for it,” Mira explains.

  We all move toward the walls, as we get closer, little panels appear with options on them.

  [ Shower ]

  [ Bathroom ]

  [ Bedroom ]

  [ Error not unlocked ]

  [ Error not unlocked ]

  [ Error not unlocked ]

  I look at the error messages, “Do you guys see the error options?”

  “What error options?” Greymore asks, thumbing the panel.

  “Right, never mind.”

  More questions for me, I’ll ask Sage when I get a chance to visit the Nexus.

  ***

  Mira didn’t know anything about the error messages. She informed us that the reason it hasn’t finished its post mission highlights is because the mission was short, and typically the System will break up its communications into bite sized chunks throughout the after quest breakdown. She also said that the reason Verantha, Tenny and Jericho aren’t here is because they likely selected the no option for the initial prompt. We hadn’t noticed that Jericho wasn’t with us, took us about an hour to realize it, which is probably a bad thing. There’s thirty of us on our Respec quest field team though, and with him being Fisban’s right hand guy, we don’t usually account for him. Anyway, since they selected no, the System sent them to a holding zone by themselves, the time requirement is the same regardless of what you select. Which is the next big problem, one I didn’t realize at first, not until Greymore asked Mira more about the after quest highlight.

  “So, you’re saying that no matter what level of gate, there’s always a highlight thing?”

  “Yes,” Mira says, twirling her hair idly.

  “Fuck,” I breathe out, “That’s not good.”

  “Why not?” Barlow asks, spooning some ice cream to help with his heartburn, looks like plain vanilla. He’s normally a rocky road guy, guess his heartburn is pretty bad.

  “Because,” Clayton begins, downing his next drink, “Earth is not equip for its fighting force to be delayed for three days each quest. That’s three whole days we aren’t fighting gates.”

  “Oh…” Barlow says, dropping his spoon into the bowl, “Shit, what are we going to do then?”

  “Not up to us,” Clayton says, letting out a deep breath, “That’s politician problems.”

  “Project Torchbearer,” Cleo says, petting Niva, “They’ll have to activate it.”

  “How the hell…” Greymore begins, “Oh yeah, your mom probably told you.”

  Everyone waits for him or Cleo to explain what the hell Project Torchbearer is.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Greymore looks down, “It’s the hail mary, last ditch effort to rally for the gates, it’s going to ruffle a lot of feathers. But, it’s better than the alternative.”

  “Which is?” Tran asks, crunching on a bowl of lucky charms, with just the marshmallows.

  “Losing, obviously.”

  “Can’t be worse than what we’ve seen before, right?” Tran asks.

  “It can be,” Cortez says, giving me a worried glance.

  It’s always something.

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