The inquisitors flew the refugees of Conway to the Great Gaia Beast on the backs of their condors. Everyone in their group had been accepted on probationary status. They took them in groups, according to familial unit. Jack insisted on seeing everyone else off and kissed Mary, his wife, several times before she and the newborn, Hope Salvidor, climbed onto the back of the condor with the aide of its rider.

“Enough, Jack. We’ll see each other again soon.”

Specialist Fosro climbed on behind Mary and secured the straps of the broad, leather saddle to keep them on. A quick look and a nod passed between the pink-haired man and Jack. Coop wondered if he should ask about it. Perhaps Specialist Fosro wasn’t who he said he was. Perhaps Jack had noted the man’s competence with a firearm and was trusting his wife’s safety to him. Or perhaps Coop was reading too much into a look.

When only Jack, Lieutenant Azor, and Coop remained, Coop felt a tingle in his shoulders, at his hips and, strangely, at his abdomen. He found himself bouncing on the balls of his feet and made himself stop.

The idea of getting to fly, to move through the air with grace and purpose, as opposed to making calculated leaps and awkward landings, filled him with something he didn’t recognize.

Coop looked around to make sure no one was watching, then powered up his jumpack and used to thrust himself a meter in the air. He went straight up and landed with a thump, feet apart and knees bent. It was awkward, but he kept his feet. Then he did it again and again, the fluttering in his abdomen growing.

“Uncle Coop?”

He mistimed his landing and collapsed in a heap. Lieutenant Azor stood nearby, expression surprised.

Coop pushed to his feet. “Nothing,” he said before she could ask the question.

“All right. The condoriders are returning.”

“Really?” He bounced on the balls of his feet again before he could stop himself.

“Are you feeling all right?”

Coop nodded and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you seem… excited.”

Coop cocked his head and considered. He couldn’t remember feeling excited. Or maybe he couldn’t remember what it was to feel excited. “Perhaps I am. The chance to fly, Jessica. What does it make you feel?”

“Sick to my stomach.”

Coop laughed and the sound startled them both.

Lieutenant Azor smiled. “Come on, Uncle Coop.”

The turtle’s shell was a gentle hillock. There were no flat spaces except for the tavern which had been built up on the low end. The space where the condors landed and took off was flatter than the rest but still sloped gently. It’d been cleared of trees. Thick grass and wildflowers grew with abandon.

Coop followed Lieutenant Azor to the little meadow where three Kitewing condors were swooping in low to land.

He watched with interest how the riders directed the condors with thick, braided reins attached to a halter flitted over their heads. He wondered what it took to learn to ride a condor. To get on its good side. He wondered if the condors were beasts of burden or had some agency in the matter. The avian beasts landed and Coop noted how the riders braced for the landing. He felt fairly certain, with some practice, he could do that.

Because Jack and Coop’s cybernetic enhancements made them heavier than normal, the condor riders insisted on each of them mounting a separate beast.

The condor Coop had been assigned to folded its wings and settled upon its hanuches. It flexed its feel, digging its thick, black talons into the turf of the meadow. Coop wondered if it enjoyed the feeling of earth between its toes. The bird had a long neck and kept its head upright, occasionally cocking it this way and that, swiveling from side to side. A quick look at the other birds told him they did the same and had set themselves up in such a way as to watch each other’s backs.

The condor rider prepared to dismount and assist Coop, but Coop engaged his jumpack enough to leap to the saddle behind the rider and sit astride. The rider looked over their shoulder at him. The condor riders wore thick clothing over light leather armor and helmets with scarves. All Coop could see of them was pale skin and dark eyes. The skin around their eyes crinkled. Coop hoped it was a smile.

Together, they buckled him to the saddle then waited while Jack and Lieutenant Azor were similarly secured. A hump in the saddle separated his seat from the rider’s. Upon that hump were a pair of handles on either side to give a passenger purchase. Coop took hold of each handle in his upper hands, braced his lower right on his thigh, and with his lower left held tight to his sword.

There was a low warbling noise, and the condor rider flicked the reins. The beast unfurled its wings with a sound like snapping cloth and leapt from the meadow. In moments, they were airborne. The condor pumped its wings, pulling for altitude.

Coop tried to look everywhere at once. The top of the canopy was a sea of deep green. The far horizon was the palest of blues. Below them, and slightly behind, was the giant turtle where Haver’s tavern was. The meadow they’d taken off from was nearest the beast’s head. The top of its head was covered in dark, greyish green skin. And from this vantage he could see it plodded slowly but steadily through the forest where the canopy was thin. In its wake was flattened underbrush and a few dislodged trees, but fewer than Coop expected.

The condor banked hard to its left and swung about. Coop gripped with his knees and moved his gaze to follow. He recognized the mountain he’d seen last night, great jutting stones, striating in shades of red, not unlike where the spring was in the smaller turtle’s back, but where the turtle they’d left was a great, moving hillock, this was a titanic mountain. At the base of the jutting mountain a forest clung like moss. It was hard to make out details from here, even with his HUD zoomed in, but as they got closer, he saw that a city had been carved from that forest at the base of the red mountain and climbed up the stone in several terraces.

As they swooped closer, Coop got a better look at the city. It was largely made up of stone construction ground floors and wood construction upper floors. The narrow streets wandered crookedly, joined by flights of stairs. Buildings were roofed with clay shingles and most had a small, circular tower jutting from the top floor. Coop wondered if that were a defensive measure.

General Ashphlot had told him the city was about one square kilometer, which meant the surface area of the beast’s shell, not even counting the height of the mountain was at least twice that. The Gaia Beast was bigger than anything Coop would have thought possible. If the smaller turtle had knocked down a few of the ancient trees, they would be crushed by the feet of this beast.

Coop looked over his shoulder trying to find the beast’s head, but the curve of its shell hid it. That’s when he noticed the condors carrying Jack and Lieutenant Azor had trailed behind and were landing well before the city. His grip on his sword tightened. He had no doubt he could kill the condor rider, but had significantly more doubt he could land the beast safely. He didn’t know how the death of its rider would affect the condor, or whether he could survive a fall from such a height. He probably could, but wasn’t certain.

It was soon obvious the condor rider was taking him to the stone mountain from which the monastery had been carved. As they approached, Coop could see the stone had been carved into windows and doorways, terraces and walkways, stairways and balconies. They took a wide curve around the mountain to the other side. There were five peaks to the stone mountain, each successive peak at a more shallow angle, like spines. The condor rider guided their beast to the valley between the first and second peaks and into a broad meadow wedged between the two.

They landed and the condor rider motioned for Coop to dismount. After some fiddling with the saddle straps, he did so and before he could react, the condor leapt into the sky again, leaving him alone. Coop considered whether to attack them, but it seemed spiteful and would gain him little other than complication.

The moment passed and he let it.

At the far end of the meadow from where he’d been dropped, Coop could make out an open doorway carved into the stone. With a grumble, he began to walk.

Much like the landing area on the smaller turtle, the meadowed vale was covered in thick, long grass and wildflowers. Copses of trees stood here and there. He could hear the buzzing of insects and chirping of birds, small creatures that most wouldn’t have categorized as beasts. The ground was squishy in spots. Coop imagined there wasn’t much drainage in this vale between stone peaks. It probably flooded in a rainstorm.

The thick grass, soggy ground, and his weight made the trek more difficult than it should have been. His feet grew heavy with mud, his hips ached, his chest grated. Lieutenant Azor had told him all but his brain had been destroyed. He shouldn’t be getting blisters or aches or pains, nonetheless, the aching irritations grew to a distraction and he could only focus on walking. He pushed himself through the soggy vale one step at a time.

The droning buzz only pulled him from his focus when he was nearly upon its source. A copse of trees just ahead and to the left was thick with bright yellow bumblebees big as the last joint of his thumb. He stopped for a moment to watch them. There were insects on Gaia IV that could kill a full-grown human in a fair fight. But a biosphere needed smaller creatures to pollinate plants and consume the dead. Unless they were terribly different from the ones he knew, the bumblebees were harmless at worst and helpful at best.

There was a figure at the base of the copse. It took several moments before he saw it. His HUD flickered, trying to recognize it.

To Coop’s eyes, it was a human male, or had been. The figure had sun darkened skin, thin hair, and a distended belly on a thin frame. He was clad in a simple monk’s habit. Coop couldn’t tell if he were old or simply weathered. The way the figure sat, he leaned back into the divot between two trees, and at first Coop thought he were asleep, then he saw the monk’s eyes were open. Half-lidded, but open. The bumble bees crawled over the monk, but he only sat there placidly. Coop began to suspect the monk had died, but his HUD told him he was alive and after a bit of patience, he saw the monk breath, if slowly.

The monk shifted slightly, face angling toward Coop, and he opened his mouth. Coop thought he was about to speak. Instead, one of the bumble bees crawled into his mouth. Then another. A drop of golden saliva beaded at the corner of his mouth. He took a slow, deep breath, his throat swelled, and a collection of small, fleshy, holes opened like the pattern of a beehive. A bumblebee squeezed out through one of the holes, shook its wings to dry them, and buzzed into the air.

Coop recoiled.

“I see you’ve found Master Yorion.”

He spun about, claws punching into position, and drew his sword. The blade sang through the air like a battle cry. His HUD flared. It hadn’t noticed the arrival and now it screamed at him, outlining the figure in bright red and marking it as a high threat.

The man spread his hands with a placid smile. He too was dressed in a simple monk’s habit. He had pale skin and a bald head with almost no eyebrows. He stood in the doorway carved into the stone of the mountain.

“Easy. There’s no need for violence here, Mr. Coop.”

Coop prepped his nozzles and jumpack.

“My name is Brother Selys. I’m a gardener at the temple.”

“Are you the one who had me separated from… from my niece?”

The man hesitated and Coop advanced a step.

“Yes.” Brother Selys’ voice when high. “But there is a good reason, Commander.”

Coop grumbled. It took another few moments to convince himself not to attack the man. “I hate this cloak and dagger shit.” He switched Brother Selys from red to yellow in his HUD, then slid his sword into her sheath. She went with a disappointed sigh, almost a pout. He eased his claws back into his forearms. He did it slowly and might have grinned at the way Brother Selys squirmed.

“I understand,” the man said gently. “But when Inquisitor Harris told me she thought you’d make an excellent hunter, I saw an opportunity. The Father prefers to interview all hunters personally. He doesn’t want to assign to the position anyone who might be inclined to poach or kill indiscriminately. I can get you a meeting with him right now and you can…”

Brother Selys trailed off and grimaced.

“Why assign me a lawyer and a specialist if we’re just going to get the job done the moment I arrive?”

“It did not occur to me you would be pegged for the job of a hunter first thing. Strike with the day is new, yes?” Brother Selys didn’t have the look of a military man about him, too squat, too chubby, too soft. But Coop had met many specialists with the UPSF who were unassuming. It could be an asset.

“So you’re going to get me an audience with Daddy?”

“I am the head gardener her at the temple,” Brother Selys said. “Essentially, I’m the quartermaster for the whole community. I oversee all the supply chains. That includes the hunters. I can take you to see him right now.”

“All right. I get the job done, then what?”

“This place is a warren. I can hide you until evac arrives.”

Coop nodded. He was happy enough to get the job over with. He itched to question General Ashpholt, to get his hands on the schematics of his cyberization.

“Let’s get this done. Lead the way, Brother Selys.”

The temple had been carved from the mountain. The hallways were inconsistent, sometimes broad and comfortable, sometimes narrow and claustrophobic. They twisted and turned with no rhyme or reason Coop could make out. Without his HUD mapping their progress, he’d have been quickly lost. They ascended and descend flights of haphazard stairs, but they ascended more than they descended. Coop kept an eye out for alternate escape routes. Just in case.

They passed only three other people in the hallways, all in simple monk’s habits, none of whom spoke to them. It was quiet in the temple, the dark hallways lit by candles in carven niches, or occasionally windows.

Eventually, they emerged upon a balcony overlooking the city and surrounding forest.

The balcony was roughly semicircle. It was broad and smooth and flat. It was clean of dust and detritus, but a small wooden shelter had been built at one end, more sturdy than a tent, but nothing like a real house.

Sitting at the edge of the balcony, at the very zenith of the semicircle, was a man. He sat with his back to them, bare from the waist up, long, dark silver hair just brushing the balcony floor. There was no railing to the balcony, Coop realized, and he knew, with a quick rush, he could knock the man to his death and no one the wiser. For that matter, he was fairly certain Brother Selys could have done it.

He tensed to do just that when the man stood and turned in a quick, graceful motion. He had dark skin and a well-toned body. His eyes were pale and his face lined. He smiled at them, and it seemed genuine. The smile gave Coop as much pause as the movement. He was certain this man was no stranger to combat. He was also certain the man was genuinely pleased to meet him. Coop imagined the man parrying his charge and using his own momentum to toss him over the balcony. Even if he had overestimated the man’s combat prowess, charging him no longer seemed a viable idea.

The man approached with quick, sure strides and stopped just out of arms reach. Coop could have struck with his sword. He could have let her drink the man’s blood, to drain him until he was little more than a pile of dust. But he stayed his hand.

His HUD had marked the man green. An ally.

“Mr. Coop. It is a pleasure to meet you.” His tone sounded so genuine, Coop couldn’t help but mistrust him. Still, his HUD didn’t change the man’s ally designation. “I’m called the Father in this temple.”

Coop nodded.

“Would you give us a moment, Brother Selys?”

Selys smiled. “Of course.”

Soon, Coop was alone with the man he’d been sent to assassinate.

“Alfana speaks highly of you,” the Father said.

“Who?”

“Alfana Harris. She’s the woman who interviewed you. She told me you were reserved but confident. Not many make an impression on her.”

Coop shrugged.

The Father shifted and gestured toward the edge of the balcony. “Would you join me? I want to show you something.”

Coop hesitated, then started forward. He’d suspected tossing someone off this rail-less balcony would be a good way to get rid of them without arousing too much suspicion. Now he was being invited to stand at it with his target, but he worried that if it came to a fight, he might not come out on top. They walked side by side to the edge of the balcony. Coop made sure his jumpack was prepped. The Father went right up to the edge of the balcony and Coop joined him.

The balcony was carved from a natural overhang. Directly below, more than a hundred meters according to Coop’s HUD was the harsh slope of the jutting mountain just before where it met the forest. Coop didn’t feel vertigo, but a tingle of trepidation danced along his spine.

“I find it’s better to not look down,” the Father said. He put his hands behind his back and stared out across the massive rounded hill of the giant turtle’s shell.

Coop did the same. Even from this vantage, he couldn’t tell they were on the back of a titanic beast. He tried to make out the difference between the forest on the turtle’s shell and the forest the turtle moved through, but even with the advanced vision of his HUD, could not do so.

“The Voice of Gaia seeks to teach us how to live in harmony with this planet, rather than struggle against it. She is a difficult, wild, titanic force of nature. Trying to tame her, even to carve out a refuge like the city of Vesper, is folly at best. Doing so only invites destruction. As though one could stand defiantly in the path of a hurricane and expect to survive. Instead, we try to move with her, to avoid the hurricane. Which is how we came to live upon the back of the Great Gaia Beast.”

Coop had to admit it made sense. It was a tactic of survival that would work at least as well as taking refuge behind the UPSF and their cities.

The father swept his arm as though to encompasses all the city. Coop looked at it, the tiled roofs in shades of red and brown and grey. From here, it seemed clean and peaceful. Vesper, where the UPSF Excelsior military base was housed, had its share of negative and positive qualities. He knew there was crime and poverty, but also technological advancement made lives easier, that art, education, and entertainment thrived. Not that he ever experienced it.

He knew the capitol city’s defense system kept the beasts of Gaia IV at bay. That the people there were safe from the predation of the planet. Or at least safer than most anywhere else.

“Does it work?” asked Coop, surprising himself with the question.

The Father nodded. “Mostly. We’ve got our problems, to be sure. But the people here focus on harmony with our surroundings and tolerance for each other. That gets us through most disagreements.”

Coop shrugged again.

“It’s my responsibility to protect the community. Which is where you come in, Mr. Coop.”

Coop started, wondering if the Father knew of his mission.

“We are not pacifists here. We need hunters and sometimes warriors. The beasts of Gaia, fearsome though they are, can be hunted and harvested. It’s how we get our food, our clothes, building materials, all of it. We keep moving and we adapt.”

“And warriors?” said Coop.

The Father crossed his arms. “I fear the day will come when those who disagree with our way of life decide to punish us for it. There’s even been an assassination attempt on me.”

“The inquisitor told you I was in private security?”

“She did.”

Coop nodded. He looked at the edge of the city, where it met the forest of the turtle’s shell. There was no wall. He supposed, unlike the settlements on the planet itself, this city wasn’t subject to attack by wandering beasts. His gaze shifted to the horizon.

“Are we looking forward or back?” Coop said.

“Is that a metaphor?”

Coop shook his head and gestured. “I wonder if I should see the Gaia Beast’s head.”

The Father nodded. “If not for the curve of its shell, you might make out her head from here. Especially with cyberneticly enhanced vision.

Coop didn’t say anything.

“I recognize Cypress class power armor. It’s pretty distinctive if you know it exists. Any ‘borg can have four arms, but only the Cypress models incorporate them so seamlessly. Every piece I can see is built from a harvested beast: behemoth leather, mantis plates, lupine horns. And more I cannot see I should imagine. Maybe even more than you know.”

Coop tightened his grip on his sword. The Father must have had a connection to the UPSF to recognize so much about Coop’s power armor. Did he know Coop was with the military? Still, his HUD marked the man an ally.

“I’m asking you to be a hunter, Mr. Coop, and if necessary, a warrior. But I’m not asking you to do it for nothing. You and your niece will live here, on the back of the Great Gaia Beast. It’s as safe as anywhere on this planet can be. Further, I imagine you might have some questions about your cyberization. I might be able to provide answers.”

Coop had already decided he wasn’t going to try to complete his mission now. It was too uncertain. But at the suggestion he might get questions answered, he decided to take his time. It was a strange feeling, to push aside the drive to complete a mission before all else.

“How is it the leader of a group of zealots knows about the Cypress armor?”

The Father laughed. “Zealots? Well. Perhaps from a certain point of view. But did you know Dr. Cypress Ark was one of us? That she founded the Voice of Gaia?”

Coop felt his joints go loose, the blistering ache on toes on heels pulse, the crick in his neck tighten.

“Did you know her?” he asked before he could stop himself.

The Father laughed. “No. It was nearly a hundred years ago she was assassinated, and though I am advanced in years, I’m not that old. The first people to find succor upon the back of the Great Gaia Beast, they knew her. She was one of them. And we have her notes.”

Coop put his hands at his back and forced himself to stand straight.

“And you’d be willing to share those notes with me?”

“Of course, Mr. Coop. If you agree to be a member of our community, our resources are open to you. I’ll speak to Sister Asad. She’s our librarian and will know where to look in the archives. I’m afraid it will take some time.”

Coop suspected he was being strung along but decided he didn’t care if there really was information he wanted.

“What about you, Mr. Coop. Did you know her?”

Coop shrugged. “I have no coherent memories from before this.” He gestures with his upper right hand as though to encompass his entire body.

The Father nodded. “That happens sometimes. But there are meditation techniques that can help to recall lost memories. If you like, I could teach them to you.”

Coop did not tell the Father that he’d never been good at meditation. Instead he nodded. “I would like that very much.”