(Y6, August 25th)

“This spot looks good,” said Quandocor. A dense clump of trees, with a spot where they could make a small camp.

“I concur,” said Birkathane.

“We won’t have much better around.”

“And this time, we don’t have skill stones to keep in Northworld to avoid decay. So we can take everything with us and not worry too much about some kind of critter coming to see what the noisy bipeds have left there,” added Vantegaard.

“So, how long this time?” asked Quandocor.

“It’s been 12 days with that shit potion they got us to drink. So… say 48 hours. Two days. I’ll try to fish for an exact formula for next time so we don’t waste time.”

“48 hours. Gotcha.”

“Same as last time. We put up a stick… here, when we spawn. And we send a notification on Birka’s chat just before. Let’s see if we can untangle this mess. At least Recess will cut any Skill-based tracking.”

“Recess started. Let’s spread out a bit.”

“Yea.”

“Aye, aye ma’am.”

Birkathane snorted from the joke. Then, one by one, all three disappeared silently within two seconds, leaving the woods undisturbed and silent.

Sammael sighed, then shook his head.

“Hank…”

“Boss?”

“I’m pulling you out. Swordfish’s over for you.”

“Really? But…”

“No but. You’ve just said it yourself. You’re now basically an outcast. You’ve just explained how one of the biggest and most powerful of Gaters organizations has put a bounty on your head. You’ve painted yourself in a corner.”

Sammael looked into Henry’s eyes.

“After your… story last time, I was willing to let it go on because you might get big fish. But now that the big fish is hunting you, you know…”

“My story?”

“Well, I know those people died. And normally you’d be pulled immediately. My fault.”

“Well, I still have some nightmares, because Terminator stories aren’t worth shit compared to the real stuff. But the control system…”

“Is almost certainly another fake thing from Northworld. I mean. You said yourself. The pyramid was hollow. It’s all fake, a prop. From top to bottom. It’s one of those game special stories.”

Henry stayed silent.

“Right now, I’m covering for you. According to the procedure, you’d be put on complete suspension pending investigation. But since it’s in Northworld and no one’s going to be able to investigate anything, I’m going to put you on normal post-accident leave. With an appointment with the shrink once he has room in his schedule. Which is probably in three weeks or so.”

Sammael put his hand on Henry’s shoulder.

“Meanwhile, you take a break. Don’t go on holiday in the national parks or anywhere in the wilds. Cruise the city. Go watch blockbuster movies. Go to the Braves’ next matches or something. Get into museums. With lots of people. Get that Northworld shit out of your system.”

He added, “I need you to bring your Silvergate for reuse.”

“It’s in the bag in my office.”

Sammael raised his eyebrow. Henry added, “It’s too risky to leave at home. Not everyone knows I’m FBI, so a burglar at the wrong time while I’m on Recess and I’d be…”

“You’re not on Recess. You’re in the normal world. Stop thinking like that. The faster, the easier.”

“You’re sure you’ve not been demoted to shrink now?”

Sammael smiled at the feeble joke. They both stood up and left the office.

“And for the rest of your group… you said you were working to be in contact on Earth with them?”

“Yea. Through a contact with the Swedish girl’s chat app. We’re supposed to be on Recess for 2 days, so they’re here on... Earth as well.”

“It’s probably useless, but make an offer to the guy. He’s American, you said.”

“99% sure. He said as much and he’s got a good East coast accent. I’d say he’s from Boston.”

“Then tell him we offer him a deal. No prosecution whatsoever on Earth and he can help us dismantle that group that wanted to hunt you on Northworld.”

“Will do.”

“That’s if he comes in. If we identify and arrest him later, he can deal with the DA on his own instead. Consider this your only caseload. Nothing else allowed during vacation, just that contact.”

Henry opened his sports bag, then picked a large evidence transparent bag, and carefully transferred over the Silvergate in it. He handed the sealed bag to Rosenby. Sammael brought out a paper.

“Hazardous Item Handoff signed and countersigned.”

Henry signed, then exhaled a long breath.

“See. Now get out of my sight, go take 5 pounds eating tacos and pizzas for the next four weeks and watch sports on cable. I’ll have your psych appointment in the mailbox as soon as I get it.”

“Thanks, chief.”

Sammael smiled.

“You know, you’re the second one I have to pull from the ops. Malika couldn’t take it in the end. She came back soon after her first Recess. Said she couldn’t understand why slaughtering deer and boars with a sword didn’t feel wrong, and why she was becoming so desensitized to slaughter.”

“Well… knowing Northworld, I wouldn’t be surprised if the deer didn’t try to eat her first.”

“Hopefully, we’ll know better how to select and prepare our agents for the next round, if any. Barring completely random circumstances like yours,” he added quickly.

“Goodbye boss.”

“See you next month, Hank.”

Erika found two of the Valkyries up on Recess. Not everyone was on the same schedule, of course. As the number of Valkyries with a Silvergate had grown, the Recess times had drifted a bit. Most Valkyries tried to keep their Recess in sync, but a few pushed it until they went into Adaptation Sickness. Having some around was a stroke of luck.

“Siri told those of us who weren’t there on Recess last time. I didn’t expect to see you so soon, though,” said Tullia Malmkvist.

“Yea. Me neither. But shit has happened.”

She ended up explaining the Inquisition and the Hunt to Tullia.

“Wait? So they wanted to drug you?”

“Kinda hard to disarm if you are a Monk Archmage like me. And not just knock-out potions, but they already used something that prevented us from doing Recess. I mean, it’s always 9 days, but it took us nearly 12 until we could use the option.”

Emeli Lötvall intervened, “I heard they use something similar at the Arena Competitions in the Westrealm. They had a few matches where one got cold feet and Recessed in the middle without even conceding. So every competitor takes something just before combat, and they can’t use Respawn for a few hours.”

“Makes everyone ‘serious’, they say. Gladiators,” she added.

“Well, whatever it is, the innkeeper slipped it in our drinks. And it was a bit more than a few hours.”

Tullia steered back the conversation to the topic at hand.

“Anyway, that’s completely fucked up. They have no rights to simply assault people who risked their lives to…”

“The thing is, nobody has. There’s no real law in Northworld. Not so far. So, justice is whatever has the highest levels say it is.”

“Yes, but that’s different from dealing with thieves and…”

“It’s not. The Cartographers are pretty big boys in the world order, and might does make right.”

“So you’re on the run.”

“So we are. We don’t want to just exile. I mean, never going back to Northworld…”

“Not acceptable,” said Emeli.

“Never,” added Tullia.

“Right now, the only idea I have is to go to Mt. Talbor and you. You’re not a world power, but any Inquisition will have to think twice before tackling you in a civilized setting.”

“Nobody will bully a Valkyrie.”

“Does that mean we have to make your friends into honorary Valkyries. Uniform and all. Hmmm???”

“Em, I know you have a dirty mind. Don’t. Just don’t.”

“Bah, you’re no fun.”

“I’ve got a big load on my shoulders at the moment.”

“No kidding. Running away from Thousander PvPers… yeesh,” said Emeli.

“So, what’s the plan?”

Erika sighed, “We’ve been going a bit eastward, as that was the best hiding terrain we found. But we’ve turned northwest since. Since I have my internal GPS, I can pretty much guide us anywhere.”

“Normal trip from Samms to Talbor is supposed to be 10-11 days. But we don’t have detailed maps. The only thing I know is there are a bit of rough hilly spots in the middle. So… let’s say we lost 3-4 days running, and we’ll lose 2-3 days in the middle. We’re four days in, so that means we can probably be at Mt. Talbor starting 11-12 days from now.”

“My Recess ends up tomorrow morning. I’ll notify everyone,” said Tullia.

“Recess ends in three, I’ll be there,” added Emeli.

“The Valkyries don’t shy from conflict. After all, it’s written in the definition.”

“Right!”

“Right!!!”

“Thank you all. It helps a lot.”

“It’s a lot more gratifying than looking into another dungeon to see if there’s something new.”

“Anyway, we’re on short Recess, I’ll be gone tomorrow as well.”

“Any news from your friends?”

Erika looked at the chatroom application on her phone.

“Nope. Nothing so far.”

Jasper Hill hadn’t expected to find his friend Alan around. It was too early since the previous Recess. Theoretically, he could have been on Recess, but there was no specific reason to be. His Adaptation Sickness wasn’t until two weeks, maybe two and a half.

Maybe even three, Jasper realized. Alan had mentioned a tanky swordsman build, with no magic to speak of. Tanks ended up with large Strength, Dexterity, but notably Resilience. It was known that Resilience did influence the duration of your stay in Northworld before the Adaptation Sickness set in. Vantegaard had 32 right now, which meant he could last maybe half a week or longer than when he first spawned with his 24. Alan… Mortefury might be close to that as well.

So, Jasper ended up writing an email, explaining his misadventures. And concluding that this trip to Beta would have to wait, and no ‘next month in Northworld’. At least not yet.

Jasper’s login to the Cartographer website gave an “Account suspended due to a dispute” message. Yea, no kidding was his first thought. Calling it a dispute was like saying that the sea was slightly wet.

His email had two emails from the Cartographers. The first was a laconic information notice that his account was in fact suspended ‘due to a dispute’. The second one was that he should immediately make contact with a guild representative anywhere in Northworld to clear any remaining difficulty.

“Well, already did that. Not going to do it again,” was Jasper’s remark to himself.

The date of the last email was 2 days before he arrived at Hilltop Samms, so that was unintended irony or merely trying to snare him, rather than bluster.

Jasper debated with himself on how he should try to explain himself once again. In the end, he decided he had nothing to lose and settled down to write yet another account of the tribulations in the Alpha-Gamma Interzone and more complete circumstances. The only thing he avoided was his special skills. And Mind over Matter. That wildcard had saved him twice already. But if they forgot about it before trying to imprison him…

With nothing better to do, Jasper went to the movies. He supposed it should be entertaining, but part of him was shouting inside that the actor could have been staying just a bit in Northworld and skipped the special effects. A Strength in the hundreds and dragging cars and pickup trucks along would be almost no problem. Plus, the former pro wrestler already had a physique that almost screamed Gater-adjusted.

Unless… No way.

But ultimately, it was still goofing off. There was nothing really meaningful to do on Earth. His best friend was in Northworld, his family, which he expected only to see at Thanksgiving was on the other coast. The news was insipid – except for whatever Gater-related item there might be.

Jasper spent a couple of hours moving from Gater forum to Gater forum. There didn’t seem to be any news about a world-wide hunt by the Cartographers. Instead, everyone was commenting about the announcement that the Cartographers had managed to pinpoint the location of all the Three areas. And that there was now a path open between Gamma and Beta.

Some had already started to speculate about the Alpha-Gamma liaison. People located on Glacier – where Vasili had said they started from – had confirmed the passage months ago of an expedition headed toward Gamma.

There was one single post on a crafter specialty forum from someone purporting to be from Hilltop Samms saying that part of the expedition had indeed arrived. Jasper didn’t remember the handle from back then, but then, a lot of people had been interested.

Anyway, the announce was dismissed by most, saying that the Cartographers would have announced it if it had been completed. Just wait, everyone said.

One more hour to spawn and no reply at all from his new report. Jasper looked at his chat application and typed “ready, see you in an hour.”

Apparently, he was the first. All other messages dated from their previous Recess.

Henry Esteban sat on his bed. The television droned out in the living room, commentators trying to make the last football match before the end of the season interesting and meaningful.

He looked at his watch. Half an hour until the recess was supposed to end. He sighed.

He still hadn’t sent a message to “Vantegaard”.

It was one thing to be dismissed by a bunch of random people with too many levels. There were always idiots who thought that being on top meant you were smarter and wiser. Although… if they had higher Reasoning…

It was another thing not to be taken seriously by your boss, who had been almost a friend for four years. Sammael hadn’t believed one thing about their discoveries. And his suggestion of fakery might make sense. But if you were making fake backstories of alien Gaters… why would you trap everything with deadly sentinels guaranteed to kill you?

Of course, you could make another layer of deceptive story. Like trying to make it more real, “knowing” that Vantegaard had a skill that let some escape. And another layer of deception. And another one. Until you ended up full-blown paranoid. So you accepted what happened to you as true, or you headed to the white padded room.

Someone had to get to the end of the matter. Anyone. One way or another. It sucked to think this might end up unresolved.

He closed briefly his eyes and reached under the bed, bringing out the backpack he’d shoved there when he’d respawned and left alone. The silver-shod staff clattered to the side. He put it aside, then unzipped the bag and started to throw out the dozen or so of pelts he had kept for when he would have a higher skill to craft them. No need for any of that shit now.

He pulled out the small silvery globe very carefully to avoid activating it.

That Silvergate had been in his bag since they looted it in the… Damp Caves dungeon? Birkathane had said she’d want it for one of her non-Gater friends, but the thing was too light for the volume for her to carry while grinding her skills. And with their flight across the wild, they never had time to think about it. And everyone, including himself, forgot.

He finished emptying everything he didn’t need anymore and started packing and prepping. He grabbed his staff, then he picked the Silvergate and gently squeezed before looking at the distorted surface.

One stick up in the ground.

He closed his eyes and reached with his hand.