We walk as a group towards the tent – except for Sam who is still arguing with the constable. The city official is holding his fingers to his ear. That can’t be good for Sam. I turn my head around and find Xenfova a few steps behind, glancing back at Sam every few seconds.

I slow and let him catch up then lean over to his ear and speak just loud enough to be heard over the bustle and chaos. “He’s going to be charged and either arrested, fined, or banned from the city."

The short-haired elf sighs and nods. “Yes.”

“Shouldn’t you go get him?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “We cannot risk being caught up in the consequences of his actions. He will make his own choices.”

I feel sad and concerned for all of them, Sam included, when Jo breaks me out of my melancholic thoughts.

Aria, I need a response for Ms. Owens…

I excuse myself and jostle my way through the crowd in an attempt to slip off to the side. I whisper with my fingers on my ear. “Can she tell them he is on a mission and away?”

Negative. They have a record of his presence in his hotel room and it is too late to produce evidence to the contrary. In the same way they know who is available and combat-capable, these things are monitored throughout the city. If I had known in advance I could have altered his location record, but it is not feasible now…

I figured it wouldn’t be that easy. “What about if he is in a level-up sleep or whatever that’s called?”

One moment while I ask Ms. Owens…

I don’t know what else to do. Vic is hibernatiing in a fucking cocoon. What is he supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?

Ms. Owens states that the claim is unprovable. It is a plausible delaying tactic only and not a solution. They will simply physically check on him…

“How long can she hold them off before he is required to show or they check on him?”

A moment passes before Jo responds.

An hour or two at the most. He is listed as ex-UFH military and thus is expected to report in without delay…

“Fine, start with the level-up excuse for now. I’ll keep thinking. Isn’t there anybody you can call?”

Perhaps…

I push my way through the crowd and rejoin my four party members. “Sorry. I had to deal with some business stuff before I get too busy to do it." They all nod without comment, apparently believing or understanding.

Once we, along with the mass of drafted combat-capable humanoids, approach the entrance to the massive block-sized tent in the open field near the waterfront, we are ushered based on our capabilities to a corner of the tent. Healers to one, melee warriors to another, ranged warriors to a third, and casters to a fourth. Human Specials are apparently escorted to an entirely different tent and assigned from there. Likely based on their level and affinities and such. I wonder what they would have done with Vic. I chuckle at the thought. He might have broken their brains.

While we are waiting in line, everyone can hear and feel shudders in feet from underground explosions.

I have intercepted city communications. A critical alert has been issued. An insectile beast breakout from underground is now listed as imminent and will likely result in mass casualties. The number of insect lifeforms is in the high hundreds at least but presumed to soon reach into the thousands. Defensive structures have been set up to best direct the enemy forces to defensible locations…

This is going to be as bad as I feared. Or worse.

Xenfova and I are directed to the ranged combatant corner where we get into one of eight lines. They are actually moving pretty quickly.

I whisper to Jo again, “Why this whole setup if it’s imminent? Shouldn’t we be taken to the fight?”

Humans have learned from hundreds of beast breakouts over the last century and a half that control and organization are clear requirements to avoiding mass casualties. There are already innumerable teams prepared to combat the three pre-set locations for the breakout from below. You will be assigned to a team with a limited command structure and given responsibilities from there. Smaller teams are set to patrol routes to search for non-directed breakout locations…

Huh. Humans really are as adaptable as I thought if it has only taken them a century and a half to figure out a way to be this organized. I'm quite curious about this supposed command structure. How do they enforce it?

I’m distracted from my musings as Xenfova, who is directly ahead of me, stops in front of a grav table with an elf in Sea Saddle City Law on her chest and asks, “Weapon and capabilities?"

He answers, “Hand mana projector, high accuracy, low power. Rifle mana projector moderate accuracy, moderate power. Moderate mana pool. I will require munitions support.”

She taps a cryspad and points it at him. He holds his hand to his ear, nods, and steps to the side then wanders off with a brief smile and wave at me. I step up, wondering how they manage people to lie about their capabilities. Could they already know the answers to the questions? The guild teams’ data is likely already available so that makes sense at least.

Registered…

The constable looks at her cryspad and her eyes widen. “You have been pre-assigned by command,” she says is a low voice.

That was fast and I didn’t have to answer any questions. Did Jo take care of it for me?

As if in answer, I hear in my ear,

That was not me. I simply registered you so you would not have to publicly speak of your armaments. I would be cautious…

Oh. Vic’s mysterious connections probably? Jo really is quite paranoid. But then again, so is Vic.

The elf constable points her pad at me.

You have been assigned ranged combat unit thirteen. I will direct you…

***

It is actually quite easy to find my group thanks to the many crystal projectors with numbers highlighted over areas. As I walk past each group, I see they all differ in species and makeup, but are all groups of twenty-one or less. This area must be for ranged combatants because all I see are bows, crossbows, and mana projectors of different sizes and shapes. Only about a quarter of the humanoids are unarmed, likely holding their weapons in spatial containers – like me.

I trot towards where I see a floating number ‘13’ and find a group of twenty humanoids gathered inside.

You have been reported present…

I begin to scan the group to gather intel on the makeup of the team when a bellowing voice from my left distracts me. “Bout time! Now that da princess be here, we ca start."

What the fuck? Princess? Does he know who I am or was he being rude because I was last?

The dwarf that stomps over glaring at me has a blond beard braided to his navel covering the center of a shiny silver breastplate. Every part of the dwarf is covered in this plated steel armor, including his head with the exception of a gap for his angry eyes, scrunched nose, and turned-down mouth. If that armor weighs anything or hinders his movement, you would never know it by just watching him.

He stands in front of me and keeps bellowing despite being less than a meter away. “Pay Attention! I not goin over dis mor’n once. You be calling me Leader and I be runnin dis patrol. Ya be followin me orders or I report ya and ya be fined or arrested. Clear?"

I open my mouth to confirm it is clear but he just keeps going, clearly not caring if it is clear or not.

He turns in a circle, speaking to the group. “We be a ranged assault group assigned ta flight overwatch n’ patrol."

What is flight overwatch? Vic and I had yet to get to “joint combat operations” as he calls it.

“What is flight overwatch?” a human male holding a projectile rifle asks. I thank him in my mind as I'm relieved from being the dwarf’s target for the moment.

The dwarf answers only after walking another circle around the group. “We be in flyers or transports above and abou da city. Our job be to locate bad spots, disrupt if it be possible, and pick off stragglers when we can.”

Sounds like a support role to me. Totally feasible for me. Of course, I’ll be up high and I don’t really do great with heights. Thanks to Vic and Peggie – well, mostly Peggie – I have been able to get control over my fear. Ok, some control. A little. I sigh.

The dwarf takes out a cryspad from a wrist container and taps it.

You have just received your assignment into group one…

The dwarf echos Jo with, “Ya just received your assignments. Each group has a leader. I be leader a’ group one. I expect ya ta follow the leaders’ orders or ya be unhappy." He growls that last threat. I assume each of the team leaders is picked due to their experience. The dwarf orders, “Team one, follow me."

Four other voices say the same but with different team numbers. After we are grouped into five groups of four, the dwarf leads us off. I’m surprised to find a familiar face among my group. The human, Sampson, is looking at me with a glare and stomps after the also stomping dwarf. I sigh. I’m sure Vic would have something witty to say about now. Or he would just explode everything. Damn, I miss him.

The other member of our party is a straight-faced dwarf, also blond but with lighter leather armor with studs of steel throughout. Looking at his arm, I don’t see a clan marking. That’s odd. I had been so distracted by everything going on, I hadn’t checked the leader.

I’m sorry, Aria. I have a system restart coming. Please be careful…

Are you kidding me? That is not good timing at all. Having Jo was like an extra layer of security and the comfort of her presence was the deciding factor in my decision to join an assault group rather than a healer group. Now I’m completely on my own, surrounded by two strangers and a guy who hates me. I sigh again. Maybe I should go back and volunteer at the healers’ tent.

Nodding to myself, I speak up. “Leader, I was supposed to be assigned to the healer’s group. I don’t kn-”

Without turning around he snaps “Shut up princess! Ya be assigned and ya be here. Ya leave an I be reportin ya far desertion."

Damn. Should I run? That would reflect really poorly on Vic, and he’s already going to be in deep shit. After a few seconds of consideration that included the dwarf glaring at me, I decide to stick it out. At least until somebody gives me a reason not to. So far nobody has done anything other than be rude and I don’t have an excuse that I can use when it’s reported.

Our group leads the others about twenty meters away to a huge open grassy area set aside for flyers and transports. I think this used to be a park for the waterfront. There are at least thirty vehicles of various sizes and shapes either on the ground or floating just above it.

The dwarf turns around once we reach a particular unarmed transport with no identifier. He taps his pad again and the four other team leaders touch a comm and nod at the dwarf.

“Leaders,” he calls to them. “Ya have yer transports an auth. Go."

The four other groups wander off to their various vehicles and the dwarf looks at his team. At a glance I can see he also has no clan identification; that is quite unusual and raises the little hairs on the back of my neck. I don’t need my mother’s sense of the world to realize something is not right with this situation.

The lead dwarf points at his leather-clad compatriot. “He be da pilot.” Then to the pilot he orders, “Go."

He nods at the order and heads inside the open-side loading door. A few moments later, the flyer begins to hum and rises six inches from the grass.

“We be assigned our patrol,” the dwarf tells us. “You gunna aim out da door n shoot when I order it. Understood?" I glance over at Sam who is still glaring.

The dwarf turns around and climbs in.

I think to myself, “Last chance to decide, Aria.”

Sam walks by me with a glare but doesn’t touch me at all. In fact, I think he might have gone out of his way to avoid being in touching distance.

“Wha ya waitin fir, Princess? Ge in r ge lost an I report ya!"

In the end I decide and climb up with a nod. I haven’t been training to defend myself for nothing. Either I believe in my training, abilities, and Vic’s guidance, or I don’t. Time to prove to him I can be part of his team.

There are five individual seats on the transport—three facing the front, and two facing the back. In between the back-facing two is the entrance to the cockpit, which is closed. I pull up a seat on the opposite side of the grinning dwarf while the glaring Sam sits on the same side of the dwarf with the middle seat between them.

Mag-restraints uncloil from the walls and auto-attach as we rise and head to battle.