“What the hell are the twins doing?” Summers muttered, watching as one of the Humvees they were using for training turned in circles over, and over, and over. “Donuts,” Summers concluded. “They’re doing donuts. Why are they doing donuts?”

No one answered him.

Summers sighed, before heading over to yell at the two. Part of Summers was actually amused, the other part was well aware it was a waste of the only gas this world would probably ever see.

“Fucks sake.”

For the last few days, they’d been trying to move on to more sophisticated training, that is, training with vehicles and the heavier weapons. It wasn’t going well. Oh sure, most army equipment was built to be idiot proof, but that assumed you actually knew what the hell you were looking at. And which end would kill you.

The twins, surprisingly, had taken to vehicles rather well, and started training others in their use. Summers was taking on the more dangerous job, training the new recruits with explosives.

He turned away from the twin’s antics, putting his attention back on his own group, and the elf beside him.

“Right. So, pull the pin, then throw it. Like I was saying, it’s going to explode, so try to throw it as far as you can,” Summers instructed.

The elf nodded, following the instructions up to the point where he actually threw the grenade. It flew across the field, only to hit an errant rock, bounce and start rolling back towards them.

“Crap,” Summers muttered. “Duck.”

“Wh-“ The elf was cut off as Summers forced his head down behind the sandbag wall, and an explosion rang out in the distance.

One thing that many of the recruits didn’t quite grasp was the idea of shrapnel. Many had seen the explosion grenades caused, understood the danger, but lacked context for a piece of metal flying into your windpipe at high speed. The thud of metal slamming into the other side of the bag, rustling it slightly, hammered that point home for the elf beside Summers. His face paled on the realization of what had just happened.

“It’s fine, that’s why we practice. Now find a rock about the same weight and work on your aim with the others.” Summers patted the man on the shoulder. “Next up.”

The next elf shakily moved towards him.

The day went on like that until the small, digital watch Summers had scavenged from some forgotten luggage beeped an alarm. He started to wrap things up, heading towards the bases’ center, and stopping by the canteen on the way. It was a testament to the others hard work that they even had a canteen.

Several minutes after his arrival, a portal opened.

“You’re late,” Summers called to the girl that appeared in front of him, looking more than a little disheveled. “You sleep in or something?”

Asle only grunted in response, wiping the sleep from her eyes. His guess might have been right.

Summers pretended not to notice, instead moving through the freshly made portal and into the obsidian world, mussing the girl’s hair on the way in.

They’d discovered early on they had no way to communicate with Asle while she was quarantined in the other dimension. So, they’d just set up a timer and told Asle where and when to open a portal. That meant they couldn’t count on her in emergencies, but at least there was no chance she’d be in trouble when no one else was around.

Summers waved to Roan and Orvar, the two had been sent to guard Asle and keep her company here while the girl got some rest in. Apparently, not enough.

Summers himself hadn’t been able to sleep well for the past few nights. With everything they were entrusted with, it would take an absolute sociopath not to lose some sleep. Thankfully, he had a good replacement for rest. Coffee. And he was already nursing his second cup that morning.

Teaching the elves about the wonders of caffeine had been high on his priority list, so breakfast usually included a few pots. And he’d hopped right back on the caffeine addiction train as fast as he possibly could.

Asle eyed him as he took another sip.

“I want coffee too.”

“You’re too young. It’ll stunt your growth.” He heard her grumble in response. After another moment of consideration, he handed the rest of the cup over. “Fine.”

She huffed, took a sip of the coffee, and recoiled. He happily accepted the cup back.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Summers responded.

“It’s a bad taste.”

Summers managed to repress a smile; he was getting used to that.

Asle moved back to Summers’ side of the portal, having to edge around a small couch they’d moved to her temporary camp in the obsidian world, stumbling a bit as she did.

He’d been working the girl hard, but so far, she’d stepped up. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t showing signs of wear. Between putting the newcomers through a boot camp and smuggling people in through the obsidian world, Summers hadn’t had much time for rest himself. But Asle had been present for a lot of that, and she wasn’t exactly on the same level as him, physically.

“I’ll see if we can find you some tea, same effect, better taste,” Summers concluded.

He noticed Orvar move up to him.

“Commander, if may I ask a question?”

“Sure, what’s on your mind?”

Orvar hesitated, but Summers let him work out what he was going to say. He’d learned long ago that, despite the man’s quiet nature, he had a good head on his shoulders.

“It’s about this. . . place.”

“Yeah?”

“Why are we not moving civilians here. Or the army? If it’s out of our enemies reach, then wouldn’t that make sense?”

Summers and Asle both paused, looking at Orvar.

“Well fuck.”

“Civilians are fine, but if we move our entire force, we’ll have no one to handle the refugees still coming in,” Synel advised.

Summers walked fast, moving to get everyone in for what amounted to an emergency meeting.

“Aren’t most in your, uh, hideaways anyway?”

“Most, but many have simply arrived here. Not without losses mind you. The roads are dangerous.”

“Yeah, a war will do that.”

Orvar’s idea was, in short, genius, and Summers didn’t want to risk an attack before they had a chance to implement things. The samr had been quiet following their hit and run campaigns, but they’d been working themselves towards a proper attack since they’d arrived. Likely motivated to finish off what they thought were the remnants of the army. That meant that if they wanted to avoid unnecessary losses, they needed to move quickly.

Synel paused, thinking.

“And removing our presence here entirely gives the enemy access to this ‘anchor’. That may give them means to find us. Or strand us there and I don’t think that world is viable in the long-term.”

“Right. . .” Summers agreed. “Well, it’s a safe place for our people to rest when they’re not on duty, anyway.”

“Perhaps. . .”

“Still, this gives us a huge advantage. We can train people, feed them, give them downtime without worrying about an attack.”

Synel gave a worried glance to Asle. The girl was keeping pace with them, but she still looked tired.

“I know,” Summers said, picking up on her worry. They were putting a lot of pressure on the girl. “Between this and our experiment, we’re going to force the samr’s hand sooner or later. Once the immediate threat’s taken care of, we can focus more on consolidating everything.”

Truth was, between the samr building towards their attack, and the ticking time bomb that was Asle and Summers’ conditions, they couldn’t afford to let up. Synel looked uneasy; but didn’t say anything.

Summers noted several manpak’s like Roan wandering around as he walked. None he’d seen before. Then again, he’d been so busy that he hadn’t had time for a meet and greet. This place was growing fast.

Roan and Asle were walking alongside them. The manpaks practically gaped at that, as well as a few civilians. Summers made a point to put a hand on Roan’s shoulder. The boy stiffened.

“Don’t worry, just making a statement.” Summers patted the shoulder before letting his hand drop. “Want to make sure no one messes with you or people like you.”

“Eh, you should keep an eye on my ‘people’ as much as the dung heaps that are staring at us. When people treat you like trash all your life, you hold a grudge,” Roan responded. “Not everyone can be as charming as me.”

Summers gave a noncommittal grunt. He wasn’t good with what were probably delicate social issues.

“Anyway, important part is that we get anyone that can’t fight into the obsidian world asap, these walls aren’t going to do much if the samr managed to get any big guns off the army,” Summers said.

They made their way to Pat. He’d been handling the forces he’d already run through training while Summers helped bring the newcomers up to speed. Summers figured they’d probably need the other man’s help moving everyone and convincing them the obsidian world wasn’t dangerous. Or at least, it wasn’t as far as they could tell.

To his credit Summers had actually gone in there with a Geiger counter at one point, and the good news was that he probably wasn’t going to die of cancer anytime soon. But still, that feeling of ‘wrongness’ in the odd world still put him on edge. There was a good chance the elves would pick up on that as well.

Pat turned on seeing their approach, looking just as tired as the rest of them.

“Commander, I see the manpaks are adjusting.” Pat watched the group Summers just put a show on for slowly move off.

“I don’t know what you’ve been telling people, but yeah, haven’t had any issues.”

Pat nodded.

“Threatened any troublemakers with exile, mostly. If they’re as important as I think they’ll be, we should take the measures to protect them now.”

“We’ll have to find a way to pay them for their blood eventually,” Summers said. “Just make sure no one goes slashing a wrist. A couple of the ‘healers’ are the only ones that have figured out how to find a vein so far, but we have the equipment, and the others are catching on fast.”

Roan’s own arm looked like a pincushion from all the ‘practice’ he’d allowed on himself. The kid was a trooper. Still, Summers had put a stop to that while the poor guy healed. Everyone had veins, hell they could practice on themselves.

They’d also confirmed that the effect wasn’t exclusive to Roan, any of the manpaks blood that touched any part of the hamr had violent reactions.

“I was about to send word to you, anyway,” Pat said, gesturing to a very bandaged, but standing Ayra beside him.

“I never got a chance to thank you properly,” Ayra said.

Half the woman’s face was bandaged, and from what Summers had seen, it wasn’t likely to heal well. Whatever Roan’s blood did had left a crisscrossing mesh of bloody flesh in its wake. Luckily, they were in the land of antibiotics and sterile equipment now. But still. . .

“You really, really shouldn’t be on your feet,” Summers advised.

“Truth be told, not sure I’ll be alive tomorrow. So, I wanted to do what I could now,” She hesitated.

Summers wanted to argue, but she wasn’t wrong. In the best of cases, she’d be coming out of this with the mother of all scars.

“She saw one of the samr’s leaders,” Pat intervened. “As well as some strange. . .” Pat shifted to English. “Machines. Since we haven’t seen the samr using machines before. . .”

“. . .They’re probably worth blowing up, right. The radio still down?”

Pad inclined his head.

“We still haven’t discovered what’s causing it, I suspect that might be the culprit.”

Summers turned back to Ayra.

“What makes you think the people you saw were the leaders?”

“I know a leader when I see one, child. Only a few of those bastards had a head of their own, and those that did looked to him.”

“All right, give us the details later, for now I want you to head back to the medical tent.”

“You are not my-“

“You can talk laying down.”

“I’m not some old woman to be looked after.”

“No, you’re not. Look, Ayra, I told you this before, but I need people like you. This camp, most of these people are in the same situation as you. They need someone that knows what the fuck they’re doing and let me tell you we don’t have enough of those people. We need help. So, I’m asking you, please, get some rest.”

“. . .Fine.”

He let out a sigh as Ayra moved off, back towards the medical tents that he could see now were probably searching for her. His eye was drawn to the rest of the camps the elves had built in their short time here.

“So,” Summers turned back to Pat. “. . .About the civilians.”

“Yes, they’re settling in nicely, it’s been tough getting everyone to relax after their endeavor, handling grudges and the like, but with some careful arrangement of the camps, walls, and such, we managed to-“

“Yeah,” Summers interrupted. “So, we’re going to need to move everyone. Again.”

Pat took a pointedly long breath. Summers might have seen his eye twitch.

“I see.”

After explaining everything a bit more, Pat understood their reasoning. Even if Summers was pretty sure he saw a part of the man’s soul die in the process. The guy had put in work to keep things running as smoothly as possible, and a lot of that included a very complicated arrangement of tents and camps that kept certain parties sequestered away from each other. With buffers of their ‘allies’ in between. But not so much that they’d gang up against someone. It was. . . again, complicated.

Summers had neither the inclination, nor the gray matter to understand it. But they could hopefully just plop them down in a similar arrangement in the obsidian world. Or, spread out more. Honestly, for all he cared, groups could go colonize a goddamn continent once they were inside. If they could manage it, power to them. He didn’t expect them to actually try, but it was important to allow some freedom.

“All right,” Summers patted Pat on the shoulder. “Gonna leave it to you.”

The man inclined his head again, and Summers thanked whatever gods this world had that he was surrounded by competent people.

“So, about this camp of Ayra’s. I have no idea how many of the people there can still think, but if we take them out, we kill any actual strategy the enemy can use.”

And this would also act as a proving ground for the new recruits. With some luck, they could make off with a few of the samr’s people and turn them back to their side. Summers was really hoping he’d be able to recruit some actual military personnel, if only to take some of the pressure off of Pat and himself.

“I believe we’ve narrowed down the location,” Synel interjected. “To the degree that we could. We’re lucky both Helfden and Ayra are familiar with the land.”

“Anything else about the actual defenses?”

“Nothing unlike what we’ve seen before. Though, she did mention seeing the ‘samr’s weapons’ used, so that suggests those from your army may be present.”

“Right. We should them a priority for capture as well. Ex-soldiers, people like me that can train our people up would be ideal.”

The others agreed. Summers watched Asle stifle a yawn but didn’t comment.

“All right. Then let’s get started.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely weird,” Summers commented.

Several black-eyed humans were congregating around in the valley below, moving supplies, creating walls, and a defensible position around what looked like two massive, black lumps with the odd bit of metal sticking out of it. Like someone had mashed playdough around a ten-car pileup. For all he knew, it was some ingenious bit of engineering, but that didn’t really matter.

Summers gestured behind him.

“Close it, Asle.”

The girl complied, allowing the portal they were spying through to dissipate.

He’d spotted a few targets that looked to be in charge, mostly near the two odd amalgamations of machinery and flesh at the base’s center. Given Summers had no fucking idea what they were, there was a good chance they were very important, And thus, the best targets for explosives. He hopped down from the ridge and motioned for a few of the others to join him.

Orvar was there with his squad. A few that had seen combat mixed in with the greener recruits.

“Grenades,” Summers instructed, motioning to Orvar and his men.

The group pulled out a few grenades with small blood bags bundled around them. Basically, everything they’d managed to get from Roan and the manpaks in the base. It was crude, half-assed, and incredibly stupid looking, but it was the best Summers could manage.

“I’m going to count to three,-” Summers stopped himself realizing by the other’s body language that they’d probably never encountered a three-count. “You know what, pull the pin. When the portal opens, throw it in. Asle, you’re in charge of making sure we don’t die.”

The girl nodded and the elves beside him pulled their pins, awkwardly holding onto the lever as they did. The portal opened, and they tossed their grenades in without hesitation.

“Close it!” Summers took a step back as the portal collapsed and hustled everyone back to the ridge.

“Think it worked?” Asle asked.

“Let’s find out.” He motioned for Asle to reopen a portal.

It had, in fact, worked. There was carnage below, more than he’d have expected. The combination of blood and shrapnel had more or less torn through the creatures, and even as he watched, one exploded into a fountain of gore and blood. No idea why that had happened, but it was neat.

“This really is cheating,” Summers muttered.

“Works for me,” Asle responded.

Summers ignored her, gesturing for the group to move. This next part required a little more finesse than he trusted the others with. He shouldered his rifle and aimed where he’d last seen one of the lieutenants’ barking orders at his soldiers. As he scoped in, a portal opened. He held his breath and pulled the trigger. Where the man’s head was, a fine red mist had replaced it.

“Close it,” Summers instructed, just as a bullet pinged off the ridge below him. The samr had apparently caught onto them. The portal closed, and Summers moved to an entirely different ridge, took aim, and repeated the process. Nearby, a few of the elves took up similar posts, firing as Asle opened a portal, then moving to a new position. While they relocated, Asle would switch to someone else.

It was, in a word, effective. In all honesty, he had no idea how anyone could defend against a tactic like this. By the time he’d cleared out anyone that looked like they could be a threat, the camp was a wasteland. Few, if any of the black-eyed soldiers had guns, all of which Summers had eliminated personally. But there were more than a few of the crazed soldiers still impotently charging whenever they’d caught sight of one of them. They’d only be a problem if his group actually stood still.

“Close it,” Summers instructed one last time.

Asle was breathing heavy as she followed his instruction.

“I need a break,” she said.

Summers looked to the girl. He was pushing her too hard, but they couldn’t rest just yet.

“Can you manage one more?”

Asle hesitated but nodded.

“We’ll stop after this,” Summers shouldered the rifle. “Let’s start looking for recruits.”

He’d already picked out the few they’d be able to transport back to base during his attack. A few soldiers still wearing fatigues, they’d been unarmed, and mostly unmutated. He wasn’t sure how the manpak’s blood destroyed the hamr, but he was fairly certain the less of it there was in a person, the better chances they’d have to make it out of the process alive.

Those he’d picked out were prime targets for the process. But as he systemically grabbed and dragged them back into the obsidian world for the others to handle, something nagged at the back of his mind.

“Asle, wait,” Summers held up a hand. “Stand back.”

Something was off. He’d seen a few leaders, that is, those that looked like they were ordering everyone else around. But he hadn’t seen the man Ayra spoke of. He could have just left, but his instincts told him otherwise.

“Commander?” Orvar asked. “What-“ He stopped, seeing something. Suddenly, Orvar turned lunging towards Asle.

BANG!

Summers couldn’t react as a shot tore past him, he saw a spray of blood just as Orvar reached Asle, her eyes wide.

“Asle!”

Then, the portal collapsed, and they were gone. And Summers was left alone, stranded in the remnants of the enemy camp.