“-and that’s the summary, My Queen. An infestation of Class Three or Class Two, depending on how far and deep it goes. A little bit beyond the hourly you assigned me, and, um, I don’t really want to try all those numbers at this time.”

Mr. Personality’s pale tan eyes studied mine in the holo, rapidly going over the file I’d sent him. “I’ll send it on up to Juris, and they’ll deploy a fire team.” The video certainly would help.

“Make a note that all illumination in the video is under darklight, and it’s totally dark from Gloam down there.” Because I was recording the video from what I was seeing via devilsight, like. “But I smell and I need new clothes, My Queen. I’m gonna go contemplate my navel for a few hours, and then I’ll see about tracking down those other two or more packs that came out from this swarm.”

“Juris would like you to stay on station while they assemble a fire team and guide them down.” Meaning stay put, it wasn’t actually a request.

My eyes, which were drooping, rose again. This guy definitely knew how to work the system. Then again, Juris didn’t get a bomb dropped on them like this all the time, and it was time for them to have some fun, I guess. “Uh, if you review my route in and out, there’s no way they are going in that way. They’ll never fit.”

“Their problem.” And mine.

“Fine. I get overtime, hazard pay, bounty on any kills, a bonus based on eventual size of the hive for discovering it, and someone better bring me a new shirt and pants.”

“I’ll put in the paperwork.” And he seemed to be The Master of paperwork.

I lolled my head back, and began to zone, ignoring the early morning skulkers throwing looks at me as I sat there on a public bench in the remains of my clothing.

Just another day as a Termite, I grinned to myself. I’d already flipped a bunch of advances when my Renewal came at midnight, so I was doing something right...

------

“Miss Sama Rantha?”

I heard the hum come down and pause next to me. I opened my eyes and turned my head, and the snappily-uniformed rider on the hoverbike floating there, the target of a lot of very curious eyes, looked me over in grave interest from behind his visor.

“That would be me,” I agreed with a nod. “What brings a nice boy like you down from Upspire?”

He grinned despite himself. “Kapitalist Kourier. Delivery?” He held out a box to me, and his clipboard.

I took them both, stared at the receipt.

Delivery from the Mentat Auction House. One standard-size Klos-Fyt Sym-tactical Masspack; one Psicrystal-intended gemstone, uncut; and one complementary pair of Mentat shirt and pants, thank you for your business.

I snorted despite myself, thumb-printed, eye-blinked, and it recorded the double verification of delivery. I handed it back. “Got a card?”

He swiped at his Band, mine blinked, and I looked at Niles Fergal’s data. “Got it. Have a safe trip up.”

“You know it!” He kicked the bike, and it rose straight up into the air towards the hover lane a hundred yards above, where TC took it and yanked it into the flow of traffic smoothly.

Ignoring everyone watching, I slit open the synthi-board box, and lifted out the Masspack.

I’d already verified what was inside as soon as I grabbed it, otherwise I’d’ve inspected it before I gave him back the receipt. I lifted out the crysmesh of the Masspack, only rated for a hundred pounds of weight offset, but that was enough for me. It was more for the storage room for the homeless girl.

I put my fingers inside, found the shrunken non-living items there, hooked them with my Vajra, and pulled them out.

You didn’t fuck with expanded dimensional spaces, as it was an open invitation for the Warp to pop that little bubble of space and reach out and introduce themselves to you... as well as a good chunk of the surrounding area. Shrinking stuff, on the other hand, was a perfectly viable solution, you only need a dash of inertialess to compensate for the weight and mass, which didn’t go away, but that wasn’t too hard.

I let the shirt fall down... dark navy blue, white lettering around pictures of a brain, front and back, gen-cotton, just an average t-shirt.

Mentats think first, shoot later and Mentats do it in their heads.

Uh-huh...

The pants were synthweave, bleeding off heat, still insulating, and sticking skin-tight as they did so. I lifted an eyebrow at the lettering on the seams on the sides... Mentats follow the lines.

My Queen had a sense of humor, was punishing me, or just had no taste. I couldn’t decide which of the three fit. Possibly all three.

I shrugged, tore off my pants with my Vajra while I had the shirt in front of me, and the hot pants slid right up without me laying a finger on them, to the dismay of some of the watchers. My shirt kind of fell away, cut apart in a flash of gold light like the pants, even as I was pulling the new shirt down over my head.

Technically I was perfectly clean due to my Vajra, but I still wanted a bath. Ah well.

I wasn’t really wearing shoes, just leather straps which those glancing at would mistake for sandals, as my skin was as hard to punch as metal, and more shock absorbent... and having improper footwear on would interfere with my lightfoot and my Tremblesense. I didn’t normally walk on the ground, per se, so there was no issue with my footprints.

And if I had black goth toenails, I had black goth toenails. I could always paint them.

I shoved the scraps of my old clothes in the trash bin nearby, and shrugged on the Masspack.

It had carry straps and the like, but I didn’t actually need them. My Vajra held it in place just fine, molding it to my backside comfortably. It had some exterior pockets for quick access for non-shrunken stuff, but I doubted I’d be using them.

I reached in with my hair, and pulled out the small box the diamond came in.

It was just a lump of uncut crystal at this point, and didn’t look like a diamond at all. That was fine, there was work to be done, shaving it down, getting the facets just right to balance and harmonize both light and internal psionic flows. Between my Vajra and my tremblesense, I had a perfect picture of its internal structure, and whipped up a diagram of it into my Visual File to look at and analyze, as fine as any gemcutter’s analytical devices.

Adamantine mindblade, i.e. Star Core, makes for adamantine soulclaw, too. Perfect for gem cutting...

I made the first few cuts with finger taps, letting the severed bits fall into the box it came with. I could make earrings out of them, or even diamond dust, if need be. Irregular chunks fell away, tap, tap, tap...

Looks like I’d get a seven-carat stone out of this, marquise-cut. Good enough. I only needed a QL 20 for the original stone, I could refine and add more cuts and facets later. I inscribed the binding Runes almost at the molecular level, something normally simply imbued by the psion establishing the connection and just weaving a false Vertex into it. As the Runes began to thirst for energy, I simply placed a drop of blood on it, establishing a link through the tried and true process of DNA’s harmonics... and since I had a Mark IV Vajra, I placed a combined point of Vajra into it to get the ball rolling.

It lit up with light, rapidly harmonizing to my aura and hooking into me. It wasn’t quite an independent thinker yet, but that wasn’t all that far away. It was a little point of mental light, a bit smarter than a dog or newborn child, with a set of eyes and a determined air about it.

Oh, and I picked a band of resonance to my will that gave me +2 to Fort Saves, and thus to my Null. It also could see for about thirty feet around it, which was just fine for watching above and behind me.

“Your name is Grim!” I declared firmly, and the roughly cut diamond twinkled in my fingers. I stuck him into my hair, clasping him in my locks at the top and back of my head. Directly mounted onto my hair, it was exactly like having a third eyeball back there, with a rather short range.

I tossed the box of diamond bits back into my Masspack, and my Band beeped at me.

Ho, the Juris were coming...

---------------

The people didn’t stick around to gawk when the big black hoverwagon descended from above, TC clearing the traffic and giving it absolute right-of-way as it came down with horns blaring.

The normally curious sorts evaporated, and the streets cleared up very quickly. Pedestrians found other routes, traffic was redirected, and shutters closed on windows all around.

As you can see, everybody loved the Juris, especially their tactical teams.

I walked up to the plaza as the bay doors opened, and the guys in tactical power armor began to disembark.

Normal roving Juris generally don’t have the power armor, as it was on the pricey side and not all that comfortable to ride in. A couple Juris did zip past me on their heavy bikes, braking and setting up a perimeter around the Wagon. Yes, somebody was going to take a potshot at it, and then they were probably going to get sniped. There were a couple drones up there on overwatch who were probably going to get shot at, too.

The Juris in their black-and-gold standard armor watched me sharply as I walked directly towards them. “Native,” the first one called out in a humorless voice, “this is now a sealed area. Do not approach further.”

“Juris, I am Sama Rantha, Exterminatis Sanctia operative, summoned to this location by Juris Officer 2XB-Y3 Charlz,” I replied back off the cuff, holding up my Band and dumping the alert on him.

He grunted, held up his hand, and I stopped. “Team Leader, are you waiting for a Termite?” he asked nobody in particular. A moment later, his hand waved, and I skated past him, noting his eyes following my feet cautiously.

The guys in suits were only identifiable by decals and paint without electronic ID, having sealed helms and visors. I eyed the suits curiously, seeing a mixture of tech and some psionic circuits there to make them viable and save weight. In particular, having access to basic psi-conductive materials made for a lot less heat generation. You don’t push the weird science too far if you don’t have to...

They sort of looked at me, then ignored me as I walked up, and I waited patiently. I could see enough inside their suits to see they were all men, but not much detail beyond that.

They were using true power armor, just helmed, not mech suits. They accentuated body movements instead of replacing them. The men were jacked into them, however, and a few were cyborgs, probably lost limbs in combat and opted for mechanical replacements.

However, there were only a dozen of these guys. The hell?

I waited patiently, my eyebrow raised and my frown growing as I drifted back and forth without moving my feet.

One of them finally noticed that, pointed it out to the others without making a motion, and suddenly I had some interest.

One of them stepped forwards, the only one with double bars on his chestplate. “Termite Sama Rantha?” he asked in a harsh, filtered voice.

“Sergeant Charlz?” I replied calmly.

“Yes. We are ready for you to lead us to the source of the infestation.”

I slowly looked past him, looked over him, and said bluntly, “No, you’re not.”

They all kind of blinked inside their helms. A Termite was telling THEM they weren’t ready? Wasn’t this girl the one who got their team called in in the first place, because she couldn’t handle the job?

“Explain yourself, Termite,” the sergeant said crossly, kind of looming on me.