Lieutenant Doyle nodded at me as I walked into his office. “Belessar. I read about your mission. It seems to have gone well?”

“Well enough. Got Gravitic and the remaining Grunters. Grumman wasn’t there, though.”

“Could you have taken him, if he was?”

“Absolutely. Gravitic went down easier than expected.”

“You still got hit by a bus.”

Inside my mask, I winced. Doyle was right. “I may have gotten a bit overconfident around the end.”

“A little more situational awareness wouldn’t go amiss. I like you, Belessar, and I’d hate to attend your funeral.” Doyle stood up. “Still, I hope that day will be far, far in the future. Shall we focus on today’s program?”

I nodded. “Thank you for arranging this.”

“Remember the terms of your agreement with Major Frasier.” Doyle spoke into the intercom. “Bring him in.”

A man in a white-and-grey suit stepped through the door, with the number 26 emblazoned on his collar. “Good morning, Lieutenant.”

“Driver Twenty-six,” Doyle replied. “Good morning. This is Mr. Belessar, whom you will be escorting to Area 224.”

“Wasn’t it supposed to be Area 51?” I joked.

“We ran out of space there,” Doyle deadpanned.

Driver 26 looked me up and down. “Weight?”

“One hundred and twenty-five kilos. Give or take a few.”

“You hardly show it,” remarked the Traveller. “Stand back a few feet, please.”

“Do we need to go to a special room or something?” I asked.

“Not needed. I trust you know the charges?”

“Lieutenant Doyle explained that I need to pay the costs of transportation.” I handed over a wad of bills. “Five thousand dollars. I’ll need a pickup after a few hours.”

“Send me a message when you’re done,” replied Driver Twenty-Six. “Now stand still, please.”

: be safe, bro

A gentle spark began to open in the air above me. A tear in reality, as blackish-purple sparks oozed from it and crackled, spinning into a dome surrounding the two of us.

Out of curiosity, I snapped off an Observe.

WORMHOLE BASED PORTAL

TYPE: LOCAL

STATUS: OPENING, 30 SECONDS REQUIRED TO STABILIZE

AS YOU GAZE INTO THE MAW OF THE ENERGIES THAT LIE BETWEEN THE WORLDS, YOUR PERCEPTION EXPANDS. YOU WONDER: WHAT MAY BE GAZING BACK AT YOU?

FORTUNATELY, YOUR QUESTION SHALL GO UNANSWERED. FOR NOW.

FOR THE FIRST TIME OBSERVING THE STABILIZATION OF A WORMHOLE, YOU GAIN +1 TO PERCEPTION.

Something that lies within the nothingness between worlds… might be able to see us?

I shuddered.

The portal snapped into place, and we were instantly elsewhere.

“Area 224,” said the Traveler. “Thank you for your business.”

I glanced around.

Major Fraser stood there in uniform. Two more officers were by his side, one with the insignia of an eagle and the other with silver oak leaves on his shoulders.

“Belessar,” Major Fraser acknowledged. “Welcome to the U.S. Army Biological Research Division, Field Office Six.”

“Also called Area 224?” I asked.

“That too,” nodded Fraser. “Thank you, Driver Twenty-Six.”

The Traveler saluted the officers, then called up his own portal and left.

“He’s not allowed to stay?” I inquired. “Not even for refreshments?”

“I’m afraid not,” replied Fraser. “This is one of the most secure areas in the U.S. military. We don’t generally allow Travelers here.”

“The Stratospheric Guard understands these regulations,” added one of the officers. “I’m Colonel Avi Goldman, Belessar. My colleague is Lieutenant Colonel Dr. Davien Shapiro. I trust you understand the level of secrecy involved in this visit?”

I nodded. “I signed about thirty pages of nondisclosure forms before they even told me you existed.”

The Colonel nodded. “Regrettable but necessary. Follow us, please, as we take you to the remains.”

The remains of the aliens were stored in the largest morgue I’d ever seen. Row upon row of caskets lined the walls, all covered with the telltale frost of below-zero temperatures.

“Like human tissue, the aliens’ remains are better preserved under refrigeration,” said Dr. Shapiro. “We maintain the temperature at -40 degrees within the caskets.”

“Just the caskets?” I asked. “It’s pretty cold in here.”

“The room is maintained at 12 degrees celsius,” added Shapiro. “It’s still a temperature you can work in - with acclimatization. Then again, this is not a place we want people to get too comfortable.”

“Where would you like to start?” asked Colonel Goldman.

I shrugged. “One corpse is as good as the next, I suppose.”

Goldman nodded. “We can start with the basic soldiers - I believe you call them the Sarnak.” He walked over to one casket by the wall. “Specimen 186, deceased at the Battle of Chicago.”

The casket hissed open as Goldman pressed a button.

What remained of the Sarnak was not pretty. I invoked Observe.

SARNAK TROOPER CORPSE

THIS SARNAK TROOPER FOUGHT HARD BUT WAS ULTIMATELY OVERWHELMED BY A CONCERTED INFANTRY ASSAULT BACKED BY ARMOR.

YOU ALREADY KNOW THIS TYPE OF ENEMY. NO UPDATE TO BESTIARY.

“Killed by a combined infantry-armor assault,” I told the Colonel. “Not much new here. Is there anything other than these basic troopers? Any larger, bigger or meaner-looking specimens?”

Colonel Goldman tilted his head. “There may be a few. Shapiro?”

“This way,” Dr. Shapiro headed towards another casket and unlocked it.

The Sarnak inside was definitely larger. Much larger.

SARNAK SERGEANT CORPSE

NEW ENEMY IDENTIFIED: SARNAK SERGEANT

THE SARNAK SERGEANT IS THE BIGGEST, MEANEST OF A POD OF SARNAK. LESS THAN ONE IN A HUNDRED SARNAK ACHIEVE THIS ELITE STATUS. A SUCCESSFUL SERGEANT CANDIDATE UNDERGOES BIOLOGICAL AUGMENTATION AT THE HANDS OF THE XERANAI OVERSEERS, AND IS THUS STRONGER AND SMARTER.

LEVEL 20

HP: 800 ARMOR: 200

TOTAL HP: 1000

ATTRIBUTES:

STR 40 DEX 10 VIT 40 INT 10 WIS 5 CHA 0 PER 10 ATT 0 LUK 0

WEAPONS/ATTACKS:

HEAVY PLASMA RIFLE +200 DAMAGE/HIT +50% BURN, 4 SHOTS / MINUTE

COMBAT KNIFE +70 DAMAGE/HIT

BAREHAND PUNCH +40 DAMAGE/HIT

INFORMATION ADDED TO BESTIARY

“This is a more dangerous version of the Sarnak,” I gave a quick rundown to the officers of the Sarnak Sergeant’s abilities. “And they undergo biological augmentation at the hands of another race, called the Xeranai. This makes them stronger and faster. Also heavier armor - almost double that of a normal trooper.”

“Sarnak Sergeant, you called it?” Goldman asked. “Makes sense.”

“If you wanted to augment somebody, you’d pick the experienced NCOs,” added Shapiro. “I’m interested in this race called the Xeranai, though. What can you tell us about them?”

“Nothing yet,” I replied, “but give me time. And a Xeranai corpse, hopefully.”

The next hour went by examining corpses of hundreds of Sarnak. Most gave very little information, but the soldiers were keenly interested in everything I could observe - even the littlest things.

“This Sarnak had food poisoning when he died,” I pointed to one corpse. “Does that matter?”

“Every little bit helps,” explained Major Fraser. “If we examine the food in this one’s gut, and compare it to that in the gut of another, we can draw some inferences about their diet - and possibly their logistics. Intelligence work is about picking out millions of little details and finally using them to build a comprehensive picture of your enemy.”

“And on that note, let’s move to the next species,” added Goldman.

The Raptor corpses were in similar condition to the Sarnak. Burnt, stabbed, pierced by bullets, smashed by tank shells, blown to bits by high explosive - the effects of human weapons might be less destructive than those of the aliens, but they were deadly enough.

I wondered for a moment what my targets looked like afterwards. I’d never stood around long enough to check…

“Anything?” asked Major Fraser.

“This one was hit by armor piercing rounds,” I pointed at the Raptor I’d just observed. “Raptor Guard, same as the others.”

“We haven’t found any Raptor Captains,” commented Shapiro, “except the one from New York. Are they that rare?”

“I’d say we got lucky in New York,” pointed out Goldman. “Assuming that officers and soldiers have the same death ratio might not be true, though.”

I nodded. “It’s likely the officers either get better armor, or better enhancements.”

“Is that data from your power or just a guess?” asked Shapiro.

I winced internally. “It’s a guess.”

“Let’s stick to the data for now,” suggested Shapiro. “Once all of it is in, we can work on correlating the same.”

TEST OF INTELLIGENCE: FAILED.

YOU HAVE BEEN SENSITIZED TO THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN FACTS AND OPINION BY A HIGHLY TRAINED LOGICIAN, DR. DAVIEN SHAPIRO. THIS SHOULD TEACH YOU A LESSON ABOUT DISTINGUISHING BETWEEN THE TWO.

FORTUNATELY, SINCE DR. SHAPIRO IS AN ALLY, NO PENALTIES WILL APPLY - THIS TIME.

I wondered - not for the first time - if any other ultrahumans had powers that talked back to them. With an attitude.

“How about this one?” asked Fraser.

This body was a bit more intact, and appeared to be covered in several tattoos. I could make out what looked like a bird, a hybrid squirrel/shrew analogue, and what looked like a six-footed camel with a cobra’s hood - plus a dozen other objects which made little sense.

RAPTOR HEAVY SNIPER CORPSE

INTUITIVE LEAP: SUCCESS

THIS RAPTOR WAS A FAITHFUL ADHERENT TO CLAN VELAXA, AS SHOWN BY HIS CLAN TATTOOS.

THE TATTOOS REPRESENT THE VELAXA BIRD, SHOWING HIS LOYALTY TO VELAXA, AND THE OURAPAGOS SHREW, WHICH IS GIVEN TO THOSE WHO PASS THE RIGOROUS HEAVY SNIPER TRAINING PROGRAM. ALSO PRESENT ARE VICTORY MARKS REPRESENTING BATTLES FOUGHT, SHOWN BY DOTTED CIRCLES, AND ENEMIES SLAIN, SHOWN BY RED X MARKS.

Wow. That was a lot of information.

I recited it out for the benefit of the officers, and all of them perked up.

“Clan Velaxa, you say?” inquired Fraser. “That’s the second clan you’ve been able to identify. Also the part of his being bound to the clan first rather than a formal military organization.”

“That does seem to be the case,” I nodded.

“I count thirty-four red X marks,” said Goldman. “This seems to be a fairly qualified individual.”

“Depends on whether they count individual soldiers as kills or only heavy units like tanks,” added Shapiro. “Any information on that?”

“No, but I’ll keep an eye out,” I said. “Let me try something.”

I squinted more closely at the individual tattoos and tried to use Observe - just on the tattoo.

A TATTOO OF THE OURAPAGOS SHREW. FOR MORE INFORMATION, STUDY AN ACTUAL OURAPAGOS SHREW.

“Didn’t work,” I grumbled.

“That’s fine,” nodded Goldman. “Can you get any more information out of this one?”

“Apart from the fact that he’s been in six battles, nothing.”

“Let’s try another, then. We’ll focus on the ones with tattoos and body paint.”

By evening, we’d been through hundreds of corpses and gathered a fair amount of information about both the Sarnak and the Raptors.

Unlike the Raptors, the Sarnak didn’t seem to have clans. Where I’d been able to glean information, it had shown them as belonging to a faction called the Bones of the Hierarchy. What that meant was anyone’s guess, and my power wasn’t sharing.

Six Sarnak Sergeants had shown up in the process, and all had been listed as being enhanced by Xeranai technicians. All had the same scores for attributes, which I’d listed patiently for the benefit of the soldiers.

Shapiro had raised an eyebrow when I started listing numbers for attributes, but the others had shown no signs of surprise. I wouldn’t have wanted to play poker with any of these men.

The focus on the tattooed Raptors, though, paid off. We discovered six more clans - Kanmar, Vosatha, Mudhvai, Aghorai, Tenemahas and Bruthama. Tattoos showed up mainly on Heavy Snipers, but there were a few Guards as well.

“Their officer ranks seem a bit thin,” commented Goldman at one point.

“We may simply not have gotten most of the officers, sir,” replied Fraser. “Their militaries might not believe in leading from the front. Also, based on Belessar’s observations, the officers might have better equipment - and better survival rates as a consequence.”

Goldman nodded in assent.

“Let’s move to the next section,” suggested Fraser. “The bearlike ones.”

“There’s another set of aliens?” I asked, surprised.

“Three more types,” Fraser replied, “that we have samples of. Perhaps one of them will be the Xeranai you spoke of.”