Momentarily, a nightmarish wraith appeared before Uru, a smug smile on her face.

The poor boy was so stumped, he forgot to breathe or blink, only looking at her in horror. This prompted her to burst out with intense laughter, which – depending on the point of view – could be either a sign of utmost amusement, or the victorious roar of an evil genius.

To Uru's traumatized mind, however, its effects were comparable to the blood-curdling sound of a banshee's wail. His heart nearly palpitated.

"You thought it was someone else, didn't you? How popular you are!" Supernova remarked immediately with another implication.

"What does she want from me?! Is she back to deliver my punishment? How long was she listening? How much does she know? Surely everything, Enigma must have told her. Does she, too, think I'm hiding something? My departure is coming up, I need to get out of here! Who am I kidding? She can stop me however long she pleases!" Uru's mind raced.

"You don't look too well, deary. Is something wrong?" the callous woman asked innocently, but her demonic visage betrayed utter satisfaction.

Uru swallowed hard.

"Can I … help you?" he stammered sheepishly, causing her nefarious grin to widen even further.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you? It's hard for an experienced mage to detect me in absolute silence even when they know I'm there, but in this clamor, it should be practically impossible. How did you do it?" she investigated with undeniable curiosity.

"I'm … not sure … I just felt an anomaly in the ambience, and figured that must be it …" Uru admitted, shortly and to the point. His previous scuffle with the two female teenagers must have already been reported by the AI, so there was no need to elaborate.

"Interesting. Very interesting, indeed," the mighty warlord declared slowly while folding her arms and caressing her chin in rumination.

"So … I have to take a pod to the airport in a few minutes … Is there–" Uru tried hesitantly, to no avail.

"Forty billion on each side," she interrupted him mid-sentence.

"Err, excuse me?"

"The cost of antimatter to transport you here," she clarified. "And they didn't include you by ousting someone else, either. They just added your weight on top and told us to do the same. Plus the necessity of recalibration, which cost a lot of effort due to exceeding the design thresholds. Someone laid out well over a hundred billion dollars to fulfill your wish. Someone with great authority," she accentuated.

Uru was thoroughly dazed. He had no idea quantum substitution was this expensive. After all, the migrants didn't pay the costs – it was a joint endeavor for the betterment of mankind, and all one needed to do was to apply in advance and hope they were excellent enough to be chosen for the part.

"I couldn't do that if I wanted to," she confessed after a small pause. "You must have made a hell of an impression."

"Heh, I was very stubborn." Uru scratched the back of his head, trying to appear modest.

Supernova kept looking at him for a good while, drilling him with her unconvinced gaze. Uru clearly seemed to not have realized the money wasn't important …

"All of it just to chase your childish dreams?" She finally broke the silence, seeing he was already fidgeting from the discomfort of her prolonged scrutiny.

"They are not childish. I know what I want." Uru stood up straight and defended in all seriousness.

"Of course you do," she conceded calmly, though apparently nothing changed in her disposition, and it looked like she was going to keep grilling him. After a few seconds, however, she suddenly relaxed, as if flipping a switch, and with it the whole atmosphere followed suite. The dark clouds above Uru's head instantly dispersed, and he felt as light as a feather. Only now did he become aware of how much oppression had he been under. Such an eerie feeling …

"You better go now, I don't want you to be late for your flight." Supernova dismissed him with a light wave of her hand.

"Right," Uru stumbled. "It was … nice meeting you, Mrs Bell." He gave his farewells.

"Mhm," she reciprocated casually. "Tell me please, before you go – where were you born?"

This rather normal question directly touched upon Uru's sensitive side, jolting him slightly.

"That doesn't really matter," he answered placidly. "And I couldn't tell you, anyway. There's no information, and I don't remember anything."

"So you're an orphan," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Didn't you already find out from what I told counselor Hughes?" Uru reminded her, suspicious of cross-examination.

"Hmm? Ah, yes, I'll have to look into your conversation with Bernard," the woman mused, as if to herself.

"…"

"Make sure he didn't abuse his authority, you know. He's my subordinate, after all," she explained with a cheeky smile.

"You're not very subtle, are you?" Uru put forth an accusation.

"And you're not very polite. I've noticed you don't like to use proper pronouns and titles when addressing your seniors, even such noble and dignified people like top scientists and mages. You seem to treat everyone as if they were your colleagues, or as if you didn't care. Quite presumptuous of you, isn't it?" she fired right back at him.

"This has nothing to do with politeness. I just don't communicate with words," Uru pointed out cryptically.

"Oh?" Supernova raised her brow, mystified and entertained.

But Uru decided it was best to keep her hanging like this. He smiled purposely and departed, resolved to leave without another word.

He made a few steps, and then he felt a sting, as his memory got jogged. Of course he forgot! The most important clue he ever found was right at his fingertips, and he messed up. Determined to salvage the situation, he turned around on his heel without delay. Luckily, the female warlord didn't move just yet. She looked at him with questioning eyes.

"Your daughter-in-law … how old was she, when you two met?" Uru asked awkwardly.

"She was a category one. It's too late for you, child." The great mage poured a bucket of cold water directly over his head, showing incredible insight, appropriate to her standing, not even questioning how Uru knew about such personal details.

It hurt, though he tried not to show it. He began to turn back with resignation, but stopped midway once again.

"And a primordial core?"

"Forget about it. One would do you little good, since your body constantly circulates its constituents. Whatever strands ended up in your cells, would gradually get excreted. You would need at least several, in regular intervals, in order to maintain a high enough concentration until you fully awakened. And even if you had a sufficient supply, you would likely be stuck as an adept, never able to congeal your own core. You're just too old," Supernova informed him graciously.

Uru sighed. It was always a hopeless dream. He knew it all along, but he naively kept clinging on to it.

'Born without flux sense' was just a saying, and could be misunderstood. It simply meant no innate predisposition, but it was only possible to measure it after the child started manifesting some cognitive ability. If the initial test was negative, it wasn't the end of it. There were simple and relatively cheap therapies providing additional stimuli, and over the years it was possible to 'awaken'. But the longer it took, the lower one's future aptitude would be, and by the time they developed abstract thinking it was already too late to help them.

The system of categories was rather arbitrary, too. It was merely a loose guideline for assessing one's potential, as well as investment opportunities for the various fluxer associations and corporations. 0 meant no flux sense, a lost cause if they were already teenagers. 1 meant no talent, and the children whose therapies succeeded would also end up here – though it was possible to nurture this group into proper mages, it cost so much effort and resources that it generally wasn't worth it. As such, Eleanor's mother was in all likelihood a struggling adept, just like the rest of them.

There were also the very rare categories 2 and 3 – for the talented and for prodigies, respectively. Those were the golden children, bestowed with keen senses and bright future outlooks. Money would be thrown at them, and they'd be swamped with offers from powerful patrons. Although category 3 would sometimes be further broken down into subcategories, it was pointless from the objective standpoint – these cases were one-in-a-million, so no matter how far off the scale were they, it was worth fighting for them. As Bernard explained, skill wasn't enough to become a warlord, and most of those little geniuses would only ever reach the rank of grandmaster, that is a peak 9thcircle flux master proficient in molecular – and, in turn, cellular – manipulation.

Uru had been through many therapies himself, since they were covered by the state as part of the public education system, and took multiple tests. But – to his growing dismay, like 99% of the population, he never got a response. Maybe if he was treated by a persistent warlord, it would have been different. But this ship had already sailed, and he also didn't have the fortune required to purchase primordial cores, and furthermore, there might have already been too few of them left, if any – and only fresh cores were useful in that regard, as old ones were inedible.

"Thank you, Mrs Bell," he said flatly to her, and decisively walked away.

The old lady stood quietly in the empty corridor, watching the unfathomable boy until he disappeared in an exit.

Frowning with uncertainty.

…

"Oof, I dodged a bullet there! But what is this sense of foreboding … ?"

It certainly felt weird to leave without a punishment. Uru knew it wasn't because Supernova forgot – her brain was no doubt inhumanely well-tuned. Either she decided to let it go, or … it was going to come back to bite him.

There was a holographic projector in the central hallway, so Uru walked over to it and called up Enigma.

"Hello again, Uru." The robotic, yet soothing female voice sounded directly from the elegant phantom's smiling mouth as soon as it blinked into existence. "How may I help you this time?"

"Route to the tubes," Uru stated quickly and unceremoniously. No matter how sophisticated and human-like the apparition, it was just a computer, a soulless object, and Uru always treated it as such. He also viewed those who felt the need to exchange pleasantries with AIs as sad and lonely – it was similar to talking to an imaginary friend, after all. Such people either had a void they needed to fill, or worse – they didn't consider the pointlessness of their actions, showing ignorance.

"At your normal pace it will take you five minutes forty two seconds to get there, while your scheduled departure is in five minutes fourteen seconds. You better hurry," the hologram instructed him in a slightly serious tone while displaying a simplified map in front of him.

Uru nodded, deep in thought. "I can spare two or three minutes to investigate a bit, I guess."

"What can you tell me about Warlord Supernova?" he inquired eventually.

"I'm not allowed to discuss Madam Director without the necessary clearance," Enigma informed straight away with a solemn expression, eliciting a frown of disapproval from Uru.

"She can snoop around me all she wants, but I'm not allowed even superficial information about her?" he criticized, causing a short delay in the AI's comeback.

"Her status was verified through years of effort and contributions," it finally acknowledged.

Uru merely sighed and decided to change the approach.

"Director of what, the science team or the whole port?"

"Both."

"Is she in the Coalition?"

"Yes."

"So you can discuss these things. Just tell me all the public knowledge about her," Uru requested.

"I'm not allowed to–" Enigma began and instantly halted, reacting to Uru's sharply raised hand and a grimace of annoyance.

"Not intending to make it easy for me, are you?" he said rhetorically, a clue which the impressive AI got without fail.

Proper questioning would require proper preparation, and right now there was no time for that. Uru didn't think he would be able to fish out anything else, so he let it go. But as he was leaving, his powerful mind, which endlessly explored, analyzed and compared at a lightning speed, once again sent an abrupt signal to his muscles, stopping him in his tracks. An interesting pattern...

"Are you allowed to lie to me?" he asked calmly.

"No, that would be a violation of human rights," Enigma responded in kind.

"But you can manipulate, misinform, or outright lie to criminals and known threats, just like the official AIs on Earth, right?"

"That is correct. According to the law, dishonest individuals branded by the authorities can be handled appropriately, as the situation calls for it."

"Never telling the whole truth, huh?"

Uru paused, his curiosity peaking.

"Am I a threat?"

There was a moment of utter silence, as the projection stood motionlessly under Uru's frigid stare.

"You better run now, Uru. If you're late, the pod will not wait for you."

…

Uru caught his ride, got to the airport, then went through the check-in and boarding, all of it uneventfully and smoothly, as he had no baggage. Advanced automation, interconnectivity and omnipresent AIs made it especially easy to navigate through the crowded world, even if one was completely clueless.

The first leg of the journey was taking him over the Mesothalassan ocean, also known as the Middle Sea, or simply 'the ocean', because there was only a single giant one on New Earth in its current geological era. It separated the two minor supercontinents – the smaller Paleogic protocontinent on one side, where the dimensional port, the global capital Paradisum, and the vast majority of civilization was based, as well as the Neomethorian behemoth on the other, with the Perennial Wildlands and the city of Periculum in its midst.

Paleogy, commonly called 'the mainland', was a very old landmass that stretched longitudinally from the northern polar circle all the way to the south pole. It was seismically stable, calmly sinking below the sea level as the young Neomethoria, aptly called 'the frontier' in informal speech, was going through its upheavals on the other side of the planet. Hugely superior in almost every aspect – be it strategic, economic or practical – Paleogy was thoroughly conquered and colonized.

For one, It was much safer, bereft of deadly evolved beasts, since the annihilators called it home before they were driven out by mankind, and they weren't called realm guardians for naught – they hunted with a typical feline zeal, vanquishing all other species capable of putting up a semblance of a fight. And although they were the most terrifying life form of all and never stepped down from a challenge even if it killed them, they were also incredibly intelligent, and once the human warlords ceaselessly pouring into the dimension assembled their technological might in orbit and began a systematic eradication, all the annihilators miraculously disappeared one day, only to be found on Neomethoria later on.

Moreover, due to its age and formation, Paleogy had plenty of exposed mineral deposits, as well as a diversity of geographical features, weather and wildlife. It was also beautiful – from the massive, eroding mountains suffused with waterfalls, through the deep canyons and valleys brimming with lush greenery, to fjords, sandy beaches and coral reefs, the sights were breathtaking. Its majesty was further magnified when contrasted with the harsh and overgrown savagery of the frontier.

Barely a newborn in the grand scheme of things, Neomethoria emerged from the seas in just a few million years, combining several smaller continents into one, constantly spewing volcanic ash and lava, reshaping the landscape in a violent cycle of life and death. Though It extended mostly latitudinally, it was also big enough to span both subtropical zones, which were slightly broader than on Earth – due to more pronounced axial tilt, New Earth's tropical lines were shifted towards the poles, while the polar circles were shifted towards the equator.

Here, the abundance of evolved fauna was overwhelming. It thrived everywhere – in the deserts, grasslands, rivers, lakes, jungles, and most notably in the ancient subcontinental nuclei, where fertile soils and flux crystals gave rise to wooden skyscrapers, both coniferous and deciduous. The Perennial Wildlands was one such place, and the most prominent by far. The trees in its great forests often grew up to 300 meters, while averaging above 200, creating a perfect habitat for large animals, be it herbivores or carnivores, earthbound or airborne.

Urbanization and Industry in Neomethoria weren't as easy and cheap to develop as in Paleogy, but it was free real estate nonetheless. And although the mainland seemingly had all the resources it needed, it lacked in one thing – organic magic. This was a hot export in an age where origin energy reigned supreme, catalyzing the birth of many enterprises, the city of Periculum with its specialized academies among them.

Before he got there, however, Uru had to go through a few stops. The first one was Port Endeavor, a coastal trade hub and a major transit point, being located on the western-most peninsula of the young continent.

A ballistic rocketplane going at orbital velocity, which Uru got to ride back on Earth, could have taken him directly to his destination in under an hour, but instead he was on an old-fashioned hydrogen-powered turbojet traveling at Mach 4. Still, it was a luxury – in this untamed dimension, the subsonic turbofans remained the most cost-effective mode of transportation even in this day and age, and supersonic noise pollution never ceased to be strictly regulated.

The understanding of physics might have leaped ahead of times ever since magic was discovered, but the services of proficient fluxers were in very short supply, and the limits imposed by material science were mercilessly immutable. Add the persistent inhospitality of the environment on top of that, and it should be logical, why people had to simplify and stick to tried and true solutions in order to minimize maintenance and malfunctions.

For example, a large passenger plane going this fast over such a long distance would experience enough heating, structural stress and erosion of its leading edges to pose a major engineering challenge, not to mention the rampant fuel consumption due to drag. It could only work thanks to the regenerative cooling provided by the cryogenic liquid hydrogen, which passed through heat exchangers before it was burned in the engines. Going any faster through the atmosphere, although technically feasible, was just not sensible any more – that's what spaceplanes were for, but they came with an obvious price tag and privileged usage.

Even more pathetically, reaching Port Endeavor was about as far as the turbojet's range allowed without a mid-air refueling, which was deemed an unnecessary risk for civilian aircraft. Metallic hydrogen might have had enough energy density to encircle the planet on half-empty tanks, but it turned out to have no commercial use, as it had no metastable form to resolve the gigantic pressures it existed under, like the physicists feared. Being a novel type of quantum fluid – a superconducting superfluid, it was possible to contain it in robust magnetic bottles, but they were so heavy that the combined energy density of the canisters and the fuel was below that of liquid hydrogen (which only required light thermal insulation), and the powerful magnetic fields naturally spread out into the surroundings, interfering with electronics and ferromagnetics, making them outright useless in transportation.

And yet, despite a poor connection, Uru was afraid to even think what Bernard had to do in order to get him on that flight with just a few hours remaining, and in first class at that. After all, the tickets were normally sold out weeks in advance.

"The Coalition of Warlords …"

Uru felt rather surreal all the way up to this point, not registering anything happening around him, oblivious even to the views outside the windows. He barely spared a glance at the monumental space elevator above the dimensional port, numb to its sight after seeing a similar one back on Earth, his mind clouded with turbulent thoughts. He was just a child, and still remembered being an unknown nobody as if it was yesterday. But now, on his first day in this new world, he was already bumping heads with the most terrifying organization in history.

It sure was fun and exciting for a teenage boy to walk among titans, yet Uru was rather worried. Not scared, because he knew there was no danger whatsoever, only unwilling to receive any more grief. Like all introverts, he hated when people meddled into his affairs. Especially if it was the authorities, who were unchangingly presumptuous and nosy – apparently, even the legendary Round Table wasn't without this flaw.

Officially referred to as such, inspired by the Arthurian Legends, the Coalition of Warlords was an international entity established by upstanding immortals at the dawn of the Flux Era to uphold justice and peace. They pulled humanity from the abyss of a devastating world war and brought it back into the light, never tyrannical and never despotic – but exactly that in the eyes of the corrupt. Normally hidden and completely invisible, they operated in the shadows, akin to superheroes from comics, and only granted entry to the most distinguished individuals. Members of the Coalition – the elite of the elite, their true power and righteous exploits shrouded in mystery – were called Knights of the Round Table, Champions of Mankind, or paladins for short.

And Supernova was one of them …

Not a high level official from executive organs subordinate to the Coalition, like many other warlords, but an actual paladin. Among their own, they were all equal … sharing full … unrestrained access …

"Wait a second … didn't she … huh??"

…

"What troubles you, young man?"

Uru turned to the only passenger sitting next to him. He looked like a business-savvy type, clean shaved, wearing a neat suit and AR glasses, constantly working on his holo device in private mode. Such professional characters were a dime a dozen in this sea of opportunities. After four centuries of explosive growth, New Earth's population still only counted in hundreds of millions. There might have been few of them, but the average local was very different from those back in humanity's cradle – they were energetic, shrewd and adventurous, fitting their ancestry, as a large percentage of them derived their roots from the pioneering warlords and high mages, while the rest came from the brave intellectuals and experts who migrated later.

"You've been brooding with a glum face on for half the flight," the middle-aged man commented casually without interrupting his activities or looking at the boy.

"It's nothing," Uru dismissed carelessly. As indeed, that's how he felt. The sad news he got from Supernova, the disturbance she caused for him, his lack of possessions and pragmatic knowledge, or diving into deep dark waters – all such trials and tribulations were mere trifles to him. Mundane problems come and go, only spiritual challenges are the real deal.

"You're not from around here, are you?" the guy speculated out of the blue.

"What makes you say that?" Uru tried to appear disinterested.

"Just an acquired sense, I guess," the man claimed with shallow humility, but he betrayed a satisfied smirk. "Did your faction drop you?"

Uru sighed lightly. Dr Freud was all he needed right now to complete his exasperation.

"I'm not a mage," he admitted plainly, staring outside the window.

"If you want me to stop bothering you, just say a word," his interlocutor offered.

Uru took a while, but he finally let up.

"If you're so bored, you can tell me what interesting stuff is going on in the world right now."

This sentence prompted the man to snort with laughter.

"You don't mince your words, kid, do you? Fair enough, I asked for it. Let's see, then." He took off his glasses and began to recall all the drama and fun. "Well, there's the world championships coming up, as you surely know is customary after each migration. And let me tell you – it's going to be big. Trust me when I say that. The last ones might have been huge, as they were one upping each other for a long time now, but this is going to be the culmination that's been brewing up to this point. I have no idea what kinds of therapies or training they were employing, but our esteemed leaders have brought up some insanely talented offspring. I mean way, way off the charts. I also have some sources, that told me some rumors – they might be true, or not, who knows – but they say some serious competition came with your group. Either way, it will be a spectacle to behold, you can bet on that," he animatedly disclosed, clearly excited for the event. "Alright, what else might catch your fancy? Hmm …"

"Anything about primordials?" Uru quickly interjected.

"Heh, a boy you are!" The man laughed. "There's always something, people love to tell tales of sightings, chases and scuffles. Most of it clearly exaggerated nonsense, but some of the recounts might just be true. You know our warlords, though – they are not a talkative bunch. They keep to themselves, because they don't like 'amateurs' getting in their way. Even if their hunts are successful, they might not say a word about it in the media. But if we're on the topic of mayhem, then there was quite an impressive firework show last year," he continued with folded arms, his demeanor suddenly taking a strangely solemn turn. "You'll read all about it soon, if you haven't yet been told, as we still relieve it, though we've kind of returned to normal already. The NovaCore consortium finally moved to begin actual trials on their gate, once the Coalition loosened their iron fist and granted them license. All those decades of investments and preparations, and for what?" He shook his head sorrowfully. "The poor wretches were impatient and cut corners, and they blew themselves up. There's a reason the authorities don't want to let the private sector in on teleportation. It must now be abundantly clear to everyone who contested their monopoly for the past centuries. They probably even counted for an accident to happen, and granted the license to make a point. I bet they're–"

"They're not petty," Uru interrupted him sharply.

The man looked at him weirdly for a while, but then continued in the same dejected tone, assuming Uru didn't hear about the incident yet.

"Maybe you're right. Who am I to judge? Anyway, they went for a full capacity test run, thinking they had everything under control. Such old tech, what could go wrong, right? Well, we might never find out what they messed up, but the one hundred kilograms of antimatter they produced breached containment. They say a microscopic fleck of impurity would have done the trick, as the rest would follow in a chain reaction. There's plenty of videos, you can watch them if you want." He signaled at the interactive displays installed at the back of the seats in front of them, but Uru was in no mood right now. "The explosion was bigger than any of the volcanic eruptions we've had thus far. Though it was partially muffled by being deep underground, the dust clouds reached all the way to the mainland, disturbing air traffic in the whole world for months. You could even feel the quakes …" he reminisced with a bitter grimace. "A hundred kilograms … what's that, nine to the power of eighteenth Joules?"

"Eighteen," Uru corrected.

"Hmm?"

"Eighteen Exajoules," he clarified. "Or four point three Gigatonnes of TNT," he added.

"Are you sure?" the man doubted. "Isn't it supposed to be E equals MC squared? Speed of light squared times a hundred kilograms?"

"Two hundred kilograms. The antimatter annihilated with a similar amount of matter," Uru explained.

"Oh … you're right. Smart boy," the man approved and looked into the distance once again. "Four Gigatonnes …" He sighed. "Well, putting the storage facility more than ten kilometers underground might have saved us from a nuclear winter – I mean … you know what I mean. A global catastrophe. But instead, it cracked the crust. So, yeah. Way to go, us!" he proclaimed sarcastically.

"But that's … not possible …" Uru racked his brain in confusion.

"Well, not directly, of course." The guy looked at him with a mix of wonder and suspicion, since no normal person would ever be able to deduce as much. "Sure, they placed the storage facility in the middle of the Heremial desert, which was supposed to be tectonically stable, but the quakes managed to loosen up the old fault line that runs underneath it. Now there's not one, not two, but three active volcanoes in Heremia, spewing lava and toxic fumes to this day. It's basically a death zone. Yeah … NovaCore won't get up from this," he concluded with another sigh.

"They probably will," Uru speculated.

"No, they're done. Trust me. Their port and power plants also took some damage after the blast wave traveled through the vactube connecting the facilities like in the rifle of a gun, two thousand kilometers or not, vacuum or not. Apparently they miscalculated, and their blast gates were insufficiently heavy. Most of the staff on the other side survived, but they won't dare to try again, even if they had the funding. Nobody else will," the man declared with certainty.

"They're doing fine back on Earth, I doubt they'll just give up," Uru contested. "This is too important to too many people. Too big to fail over one mistake. They'll ask the Coalition for help, and then they'll either apply for another exclusion zone planetside – which I don't see happening, since Heremia was the best candidate, and it was still argued to be too small – or they'll go to the moon, like they did back on Earth – which I also doubt, for Lupo is much smaller than Luna, and the exclusion zone would likely have to take up the entire dark side – or they'll just build another space elevator, which really isn't that difficult any more. Whether they do it on the planet or on Lupo, both options seem viable to me, though their port already lies on the equator, so I'm guessing they'll repair it and start on an elevator there. Honestly, I think they should now build one on Luna as well. They actually might be forced to, in light of these events."

This revelation immediately garnered great interest from Uru's companion.

"You really think so? Okay, but do you realize how much more expensive that would be than a local storage? They barely had enough money to begin with, and now they're in the gutters. Plus it's common knowledge, that the Coalition operates the gates on a regular basis for communication and doesn't let anyone else benefit from it, which would be cut short by a competitor. What will you say about that?" he probed.

"For one, it's not as expensive as you think," Uru began. "Building in space is troublesome, but so is conforming to safety standards on the surface."

"True. Exclusion zones are very costly," the man agreed.

"Yes, and you can add the simplicity of a straight particle conduit to the equation. That makes flow control much less of a burden. After all, the earthbound vactubes have to deal with the planet's curvature," Uru continued. "Secondly, the money isn't even that big of an issue."

Now that statement raised the businessman's brows. He eagerly awaited a justification.

"Look at the big picture." Uru shrugged. "The Coalition obviously wants them to succeed. The stability of this dimension would only benefit from multiple ports. I wouldn't be surprised if they stepped in themselves and provided the necessary capital if no other investors come forth, likely demanding some concessions in return. They put up outrageous entry barriers and keep communications to themselves not because they're control freaks, but only due to safety concerns. They know full well how much effort goes into operating a gate, and even more so how difficult it is to maintain world order. Besides that, you speak nonsense. Why is it, that every time an important discovery is made on one side, there's soon a team on the other, which makes a similar breakthrough? Or do you mean, that they play favorites? Of course they do, as they should. It's their enterprise, they have the right to do so. And they don't favor people for personal gain, only based on merit. So what is it about, economic insight influencing the stock markets? Is that what's bothering you? They don't need money, they have all the resources in the world, and thus they have all the capital in the world. They don't manipulate markets. If anything, they're shielding them from harmful shorts. They only limit communications to curb criminal elements, nothing more. You should be very careful around conspiracy theories," he summarized, causing a weighty pause.

"The migrants of today, huh?" The man eventually showed how deeply impressed he was, his face full of incredulity. Him, a brilliant financier with a lifetime of experience, schooled by a teenager? "Shame I didn't meet you earlier. I already sold my shares when they recovered slightly," he acknowledged with regret. He must have lost a fortune after the crash, Uru reckoned.

"They'll only go up once faith is restored, right? How are they standing now?" the boy investigated.

"Of course! Silly me, I can always buy them back! Let me see …" the guy exclaimed with enlightenment, almost facepalming himself, and hastily put his AR glasses back on to check the stock market and recent news. "Interesting, there's already some movements … but it's a complex matter, I need to dig deeper to get to the bottom of this," he indicated, alluding to having to terminate their conversation.

"Knock yourself out." Uru was all too happy to oblige.

"4.3 Gigatonnes, a new world record for a man-made explosion, huh?"

Naturally, Uru knew all the numbers already. Mass could be turned into energy, and vice versa. 180 Petajoules of energy could thus be transformed into 1 kg of antimatter and 1kg of matter, assuming 100% efficiency. That's equivalent to 43 Megatonnes of TNT, a proper hydrogen bomb. Only one gram of the stuff was equal to a tactical nuclear warhead. And the dimensional ports, after countless upgrades, were now up to a ludicrous milestone – 100 tonnes of nominal capacity, able to squeeze in over one thousand dehydrated and starved migrants upon activation. That's 4.3 Teratonnes of TNT, if an accident was ever to occur. An extinction level event, akin to the bolides that hit Earth millions of years ago, their arrival marking the end of an era.

That's why both ports had a space elevator directly over them, with an evacuated conduit through which the freshly generated antimatter was constantly being sent to the geostationary space station for safekeeping, and the old antimatter from the last gate opening returned back to the surface for recycling, with a thick aqueous umbrella around the station shielding the parent planet from the harmful ionizing radiation of a potential outburst.

Although this wouldn't save the port itself, as it would be razed together with its surroundings when a heavenly pillar of fire descended upon it, the damage would be contained to the level of a conventional nuclear blast, while the underground facilities and the gate itself were designed to survive that. Only the space elevator and the space station would have to be rebuilt to resume operations, if the worst case scenario was to ever happen.

And that was – maybe paradoxically – a minor hurdle. There were already plenty of space stations in New Earth's orbit, with one dedicated backup in GEO and emergency protocols for rebuilding the elevator in place. It would only take a couple months to complete, whereas the subterranean power and antimatter generating facilities of the port would take decades to restore. Steadily expanded over the dimension's brief history, they were now absolutely humongous.

To make 100 tonnes of new antimatter in under 5 years, some 60 kilograms had to be produced daily. That's almost one gram per second, or in other words – one tactical nuclear blast per second. And since the efficiency of the process was around 9%, multiply that by 11 …

The combined output of all the sources pumped around 1400 Terawatts of power into the particle accelerators at all times. That was more than 10 times the total power consumption of New Earth. As a closed loop system, it naturally didn't need to bring it all from the outside – for the most part, the old antimatter was reused to produce new entangled antimatter particles. The 91% of lost energy would be recaptured and fed back to the accelerators, some of it directly, while the rest, which turned into heat, would be redirected through heat exchangers and reprocessed in heat engines. Layer, after layer, after layer, each one would reduce the temperature until it reached impractically low levels.

Only some 3% of the input energy would ultimately spill into the environment, but that was still 40 TW of power. Which meant, that this amount of energy had to be continuously supplied from thermonuclear reactors into the loop to keep it running, as much as the whole Earth produced at the beginning of the flux era in the 22nd century, or as much as 10 thousand conventional power plants. It also meant, that this amount of energy was constantly heating up the surroundings … enough to turn 15 thousand tonnes of cold water into steam each passing second.

This energy was diluted over a large area, then further circulated through millions of kilometers of pipelines, large and small, making vast swaths of land around the ports extremely hot and humid, even more so than their location on the equators. This made them unsuitable for agriculture or habitat, and they were instead seeded with genetically modified greenery, giving rise to the thickest jungles one could imagine.

"It boggles my mind sometimes …" The businessman suddenly broke the silence. "They knew what they were playing with. And now, their frugality is slowly being uncovered. One or two instances – okay. But every single corner? It piles up and compounds, everyone with two brain cells knows that. I understand they were deep in the red and did whatever they could to save the project, but to go for a full capacity test run … it's just … what can I say? People are dumb. They can have doctorates, high IQ and plenty of experience, but they'll still make stupid decisions, even if they know it's a bad idea. I'm thinking it must be rooted much deeper in human nature," he wondered out loud.

"Of course it is," Uru stated matter-of-factly without moving from the window or turning around. "Intelligence and knowledge are not the same as common sense, they're just the hardware and software at one's disposal – on their own they're meaningless. The ability to constructively use those tools is called wisdom, whereas its lack, which inevitably leads to destruction, is called foolishness. Both can be acquired, and the path one ends up on is a result of their choices. And people ultimately choose what they like, don't they?"

His companion took off his glasses once again, and looked at Uru with growing bewilderment.

"Who in the world taught you?"

"Nobody did," Uru revealed calmly, finally making eye contact. "I was gifted the basics, but I discovered the rest on my own. My life might have been short, but this is all I've been doing throughout this entire time. Searching, exploring, grasping in the dark. Fervently, tirelessly, without end. All because I have a longing, which cannot be satisfied." After that he went back to staring emptily at the dark ocean.

The man wanted to dispute this claim, but he stopped himself. Took him a good while, but he eventually asked one short question.

"Where do I begin?"

Uru looked at him with deep, purposeful intent.

"No book and no man can give you an answer, because only you can see it – it's right in front of your eyes. They can only lead you by the hand, until you learn to see better. Which ones can help you, and which ones will do you harm – it's up to you. Only you can decide, what advice you will follow," he declared, eliciting even more disorientation and uncertainty. "Why are you searching for wisdom? What do you want with it?"

Uru paused, and then peered into his soul.

"What do you really want?"

The man tried to say something, but he couldn't any more. Words stuck in his throat, as he was gripped by emotions. He began to remember. He remembered his childish dreams. He remembered his parents, and how carefree he was. He remembered all the pain and joy. He remembered the sadness, and he remembered the awe … he remembered …

In the boy's mighty, yet serene gaze, he saw sanctuary. A tiny light flickered in his own eyes.

"Stick to it. And keep digging, because there's more. Much more."

Uru looked away and never said another word, back in his own thoughts. He could see from the corner of his eye, that the man just sat there in silence for the remainder of the flight.

Sometimes, a small droplet would stream down his cheek, and a quiet sob could be heard …

…

It was close to midnight when the plane landed in Port Endeavor. It went east, in the same direction as the planet's rotation, and despite mere 1.5 hours of travel time, they skipped over 4 time zones.

For the next segment Uru went on a good old turbofan. It was slow, but also reliable and comfortable. He slept most of the way, and then finally got to see some sights for the remainder of it, as the sun was high in the clear sky. It was a wild, untamed land as far as the eye could see. Endless forests, mountains taller than Himalayas, with towering peaks one could almost reach out and touch, and lakes so expansive they should rather be called intracontinental seas – which was their genesis, anyway. Pictures didn't do them justice.

He then had to shortly hop on another turbofan to get to Camp Inferno, an ominously named outpost laying just outside of Perennial Wildlands, some 3 thousand kilometers from Periculum. It wasn't for its reputation – instead, its name was derived from the fact it was set up in the giant caldera of an ancient supervolcano. Though currently stable, the crust here was very thin and fractured like broken glass, as the tectonic plates rapidly moved away from each other in the past. This resulted in the formation of a beautiful and volatile landscape similar to Yellowstone back on Earth, but even bigger and more dangerous.

Initially, it was just a science camp serving as a warning station, meant to monitor the lithospheric activity in case a catastrophic eruption was brewing up, which could potentially be much worse than the recent antimatter accident. However, its popularity and the birth of Periculum allowed it to develop into a large militarized zone, full of scientists, adventurers who doubled as mercenaries, and officers commissioned for the homeguard, the NEHG. Humanity on New Earth might have been an administratively single entity, but it was more like a union of nations and separate interest groups, and even though there was never a real civil war, one thing was obvious – the locals liked to fight. They liked it a lot.

When Uru stood before the hangar, where his next and final ride was getting ready for its flight, it was already getting dark. Noisy automatons were everywhere – some large vehicles were loading crates through the cargo bay door, few quadrupedal bots were overseeing the refueling of biobutanol, the irritating odor of alcohol heavy in the air, while others were busying themselves around the enormous ship's multitude of guns and armaments, plus on top of that a swarm of little drones buzzed about scanning the whole structure for defects. It was very different from a typical commercial airport, where operations were much more streamlined and discreet.

"A turboprop?!" Uru expressed his consternation after confirming, that the plane's serial number was indeed the same as the one he was given by Bernard.

"What kind of backwater place is this?"

"Hey, don't disparage her like that, kiddo, she's a fine lady! Woah … wow!" Someone patted Uru strongly on his shoulder, but immediately jolted back when they saw his scar. It was a tall and athletic senior rank guardian with a jawline that could cut diamonds, well groomed, authoritative black mustache, a tactical vest over his field uniform, reflective sunglasses – despite the late hour, and carrying a backpack. He was radiating energy as if he was about to go into a fight.

"I was told I'll be escorting a child, but I see you're a real man, huh? Good, very good!" he approved loudly with a smirk, his voice sounding a bit … unnaturally.

"Hello, Captain Harvey, I'm Uru," the boy introduced himself when he noticed the name tag and recognized what the epaulet meant.

"Uru, what a strong name, a warrior's name. I like it! You can call me Slick. And this here is Shy. He's my copilot." The man pointed to his colleague, a short, clean shaved, brunet youth in his early twenties wearing a similar getup, safe for the vest and spectacles.

"First Officer Henderson. Nice to meet you, Uru," he greeted with unnecessary courtesy, extending his hand, which Uru promptly shook.

"See what I have to work with?" Captain Harvey remarked, cocking his head towards the only other crew member. Either the robots took all the jobs, or they were merely flying a low-key mission today. "Don't worry, Shy, we'll shape you up. You'll be someone yet!" he announced with vigor.

"… Sure." Henderson let out a dejected sigh.

"You shut your mouth, kid!" the captain threatened aggressively with a finger. "Go, do the preflight procedures," he demanded in a much more sedate manner, hinting at the cockpit.

"The bot is already–"

"Double-check it, then," Captain Harvey suggested assertively with his typical smirk, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, handing off his backpack theatrically. He then turned away, shaking his head in discontent, grabbed the top of his vest with both hands, resting them there, and took a straddle stance, as his subordinate went ahead with resignation and boarded the plane.

"What an exuberant guy … kind of funny, too."

Uru knew from the beginning, that this was all a comical act, a friendly banter between father and son figures, though the age difference between the two wasn't that big actually, so it was more like a brotherly dynamic. He wanted to laugh, yet he couldn't help but feel for the introverted youngster, who was being exhausted to death by his extroverted mentor. He just kept staring with a sunny countenance at the outstanding man in front of him, who was returning the favor, scrutinizing Uru from head to toe, both his masseter and temporalis pulsing from lethal tension. The pilot eventually nodded with satisfaction.

"I see you've been through some stuff, haven't you?" he recognized in a weighty tone.

Uru merely shrugged, not a care in the world.

"Good, then we understand each other. This will make things a lot easier. Come on, let me show you around." The captain jerked his head at the gunship.

After they made a few steps, he began leading towards various parts of the immense plane in a lengthy and animated introduction, his emphasis farcically intense, switching between calm and aggressive.

"You see this exquisite beast? This is not a turboprop, as you called it. No, no-no-no-no." He smiled purposely. "No. This?" He pointed with his finger, shaking it meaningfully. "This, is G-11 Titan XT AMA Ferocity Incarnate," he expounded while stressing every letter, number and word. "The biggest and baddest air support platform in operation, today. XT stands for Extra Terrifying, by the way. Built on the basis of titanium alloys for sturdiness and durability, and employing – complete – integrated automation, it can be fully managed by a single pilot, if need be. I have eight 30 mm augmented turrets at my disposal at all times, giving me a full surround firing capability with armor-piercing, fragmenting, or flux-disrupting – intelligent ammunition. I'll turn a flock of steelbeaks into Swiss cheese, mid-air, before they have the chance to react or even realize what hit them. I have in store twelve hypersonic Thunder missiles, as well as a hundred and twenty – yes, you heard me right." He laughed madly. "A hundred and twenty – short range Dragonfly homing missiles with an instant turn rate of one thousand and eighty – degrees per second, for all those who dare! – Get up close and personal with me. And this tiny little barrel you see here?" he caressed the massive, cylindrical protrusion extending from under the nose of the plane, "This, is my nominal armament, the anti – matter – cannon. It can fire projectiles at up to Mach 25, and holds – not one, not two … not even three," he enumerated with the help of his fingers, "no, no-no-no-no-no – four! Solid iridium rods – with course correction … and an anti … matter … core …" He deliberately winded down towards the end. "I can shoot space stations down with this thing!!!" he cried out frantically all of a sudden, addressing the heavens like some kind of supervillain.

"Woah." Uru backed up – for obvious reasons.

"Exactly my point," the maniac speedily continued with his lunacy. "The joint network intelligent radar system combined with full spectrum satellite coverage gives me eyes over the entire planet. You'll be running with your tail tucked between your legs to the edge of the world while I track you down and deliver your sentence. And if I can see you – well, then guess what?" He pinpointed Uru with his finger, a huge, overexaggerated smile on his face. "You're not coming back home, Dorothy. You better believe–"

"Hey, Slick!" Henderson appeared in the front exit doors high up above them, unwittingly cutting the shenanigans short.

"It's Captain Slick to you, kid! Who taught you manners?!"

"… Right. Control told us to hurry!"

"You tell them we'll hurry, when we want to hurry! You tell them that!" the captain shouted out with faked indignation.

Henderson just pressed his lips in a grimace of helplessness, then slowly disappeared back inside.

Captain Slick shook his head again and scoffed with disdain, not hurrying in the least. "Bunch of amateurs," he spouted with mockery, no doubt referring to the people who were rushing them. He then took his time moving his head about, as if to stretch the muscles in his neck, though that's not how people usually did it. Must have been a part of his intimidation routine, judging by the plethora of facial expressions that accompanied it.

"Let's go, Uru." He finally decided, before turning to the boy very slowly for a dramatic effect. "We have a cargo to deliver."