“Whuh guh uh . . . “

“Don’t try to talk, Sergeant. It will all be over before you know it.”

He could feel his body changing as purple energy surged through him. Bumps and bruises from where robots flailed him in the steam vault disappeared.

He felt stronger, too. Strength built up like a light bulb growing brighter and brighter. Soon it shined white hot inside him, and he thought he might burst from all the power coursing through his veins.

His vision hazed over and inverted, making everything look like it a film negative. His breath swirled purple as he panted.

“Whuh hah pin in . . .”

Black light spilled out of his mouth, his head lit up like a dark lantern. He thought he sensed light coming out of his nose and ears, too. He looked down at his arm and realized his skin glowed softly purple, too.

At last, the cone switched off and the humming died down. Rip slumped back in the stone chair, his vision slowly returning to normal.

Behind him he heard gears pulling the crystal cone back into the far recesses of the room. The circular skylight above constricted slowly, closing out the storm clouds and rain.

He took a few deep shuddering breaths.

Hedgefield walked into his field of vision.

Rip stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Right, then. Feeling different, are we?”

Ripped nodded slowly, his eyes still round.

“I feel . . . completely different.”

Hedgefield smiled, knowingly.

“Congratulations, Sergeant. You are now enhanced.”

Rip’s implant pinged, something he had not noticed in a while. A series of system messages filled his vision.

[You have taken a class. You are now a Rogue.]

[You have taken a specialty. Specialty: Battle Focus.]

[Your main class has combined with your specialty. You are now a Battle Rogue.]

[You have taken a subclass. Subclass: Technologist.]

[Leveling system activated. You are a Tier 1.57 Battle Rogue Technologist.]

[Skill Tree activated. You have earned skills.]

[Skill: Lock Picking, 1.00]

[Skill: Disarm Traps, 1.00]

[Skill: Mechanical Discernment, 1.00]

[Skill: Stealth, 1.14]

[Skill: Weaponry, 1.69]

[Skill: General Combat, 1.82]

[You have been enhanced. All stats increased by 30 points.]

[You are a Tier 1.87 Battle Rogue Technologist.]

Rip continued reading through the prompts in his mind’s eye while Hedgefield watched him carefully.

He stared into space as the remainder of his stat screens increased by .30 across the board. His Weaponry skill now resided at 1.99, and General Combat had increased to 2.12.

“Sergeant? I say, Sergeant. How goes it?”

Rip stopped reading and slowly smiled at the Venture Society director.

“What’s a subclass?”

“A subclass you say? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“How about a specialty?”

“Yes. Those we are familiar with, although they’re rare and usually come later, not immediately. Are you saying you have both a subclass and a specialty? Most unusual.”

Hedgefield glanced at the remaining scientist in the enhancement chamber. The man’s look of utter confusion told Hedgefield he had never heard of anything like this, either.

“For our records, Sergeant, tell us what Tier you are starting out with. It may take some doing, but you should get a vague feeling that will indicate where you are. We use a decimal system to track progress among the Tiers—”

“I’m at Tier One point eighty-seven.”

“That’s . . . abnormally high. Most people start at Tier One point oh. Of course, actual measurements are—”

“No. I’m positive. One point eighty-seven.”

“Very well. As for your class . . . presumably this must be why you had more than one discernment card. But your starting stats are phenomenal. True, if someone worked hard through their early years, concentrating in a field of study, say, they would have beginning skills higher than one point oh. They might even start out with a few more points in Tier One. But to start this high? Preposterous. You should gain Tier Two in less than a year at this rate, provided you go out and use your skills expeditiously.”

He sighed, thinking out loud.

“I must say, this does nothing but lend credibility to your origins, Sergeant.”

Hedgefield glanced over at the other man, now furiously jotting down notes.

“Be sure to inform Dr. Oggolopoli of these developments too, will you lad? There’s a good chap. He’ll want to know about this, I’m sure.”

The man nodded, but never looked up. He kept writing.

Rip, meanwhile, focused on his status screen.

“What is Mechanical Discernment?”

“That one, at least, I’ve heard of, Sergeant. Typically we see it in individuals gifted with a penchant for machinery. It’s more of a biter’s skill, to be frank. We don’t enhance too many mechanics, although perhaps we should. It seems machinery is becoming more commonplace these days.”

“Would enhanced machinery need an enhanced mechanic?”

“No, it hardly every breaks down once it’s enhanced. But not much machinery is ever enhanced, you understand. At least not here. It’s difficult to get large items through the door, as you can imagine. The Prussians are known for enhancing larger things, though. They’ve developed systems that can move outdoors. Either that, or they are located in giant hangars somewhere and large items are more easily brought in. They’re a bit cagey about how they do things over there. Military secrets, I suppose.”

Rip raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. They have a history of militarism on my world, too. They started a couple of world wars, back in the day.”

Hedgefield gasped.

“Atrocious! World wars? By that you mean, every country fighting?”

“More or less, yeah. Of course, they suffered the most in the end, and we made them a republic again after the second one. It took better the second time around, and they became an exemplary country after that.”

“Fascinating. I imagine there is much we can learn from you and your world. I wonder if—”

Hedgefield stopped when a loud explosion sounded from outside the building, followed by the staccato rat-a-tat-tat of machineguns.

The door burst open and the second scientist ran back in the room.

“It’s Darhaven! We’re under attack!”