Axle was in the distance, walking in a square with his measuring twine, and using rocks to lay out where his new library was going to start. I briefly wondered what the hell that would end up looking like but remembered my immediate security goal.

I needed to set up some detection. Radar or whatever its affordable multiversal equivalent would be.

In the corner of my sight rose an installation. It looked to be a building not unlike an air traffic control tower, its many window panes shining brightly against the desert sun. Next to it a bizarrely shaped antenna forked up out of the dirt, its ends then curling out in eight separate but equi-distant directions.

I peered at it curiously, trying to suss out its sudden appearance. On cue, music blared. The American national anthem. I swung my head about, seeking its source. And then it dawned on me.

It was another mother-fucking ad.

VISUAL CONTROL ON LAND, AIR AND SEA. LAAISEA DETECTION ARRAYS PUT THE FINGERS ON YOUR ENEMIES. SEE THEM THROUGH HEAVY CLOUD COVER. OBSERVE THEIR APPROACH THROUGH DARK AND MURKY SEAS. PINPOINT EVERY MOVE THEY MAKE THROUGH FORESTS, HILLS AND MOUNTAINS AS THEY PLAN THEIR ASSAULT.

BUT THAT’S NOT ALL.

SPEED SCHEDULES. REDUCE STACKING. ASSURE POSITIVE TRAFFIC CONTROL AT EVERY AVENUE! WITH LAAISEA DETECTION ARRAYS AT YOUR DISPOSAL, YOU CREATE MORE LAND, AIR AND SEA TO TRAFFIC THROUGH.

150,000,000 morties, 4.9 stars.

That was steep. I’d expected something a lot cheaper. But I had to admit that the station sitting there now surrounded by some sort of glowing energy field looked as impressive as it looked bizarre. I bookmarked it as a future possibility, then actively began to search out other solutions and proceeded to find myself astonished. Even basic World War II radar installations were selling to the tune of tens of millions. Everything was well out of our price range.

I idly walked across the desert toward the parking lot as I continued to browse, quickly giving up hope of any solution. This was another area Dearth appeared to be price manipulating, to keep equipment like this out of my hands, confirming the impending attack.

In a brief moment of anxiety, I pulled up the affiliate page and was relieved to see the church tag still in place. But it was only a matter of time before it dropped, and then Dearth was free to attack us directly.

And without some kind of early warning system, people would die. I sighed as I realized who I needed, before shaking my head and pulling up the option for Clippy’s virtual ad space. The middle of the desert between my site and the storage barns was not exactly ideal for a nap, so I kept walking.

Once I was inside the nice cool barn, seated comfortably on one of the remaining couches, I dove into Clippy’s space.

The animated paperclip was hovering around his orb of ads again and did not notice me until his countenance turned toward me as part of his rotation. Then his features lit up and I felt the weight of his behind-the-veil presence.

Clippy felt like an anglerfish, with a bright cartoon paperclip for a lure. I shrugged it off and waved, as the bizarre cartoon swung toward me.

“Wheee!” he exclaimed, zooming by to circle me. I hated it when he did that, it felt like sharks in the water.

“What can I help you with this time, friend?” Clippy asked.

“I need help acquiring some radar for my affiliate, and I can’t afford any of the options I’ve found,” I said, eyes narrowed.

Clippy swirled in the air around me, moving quickly enough to hurt my neck if I tried to follow him. “Oh wheee! A problem I can solve!”

“Stop circling me!” I finally shouted to the air.

Clippy pulled back, as did the heavy presence behind him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I can solve your problem though!” He calmed and hovered near his orb.

“When one cannot afford a product, perhaps one can afford a service in its place,” Clippy said.

I narrowed my eyes. “A radar . . . service?”

The cartoon paperclip nodded rapidly. “Services are not products and products are not services, but sometimes they can do the same, be the same, help the same!” Clippy spoke rapidly, becoming more and more excited as he went.

I waved a hand to stop him. “Okay, thank you, please show me a radar service.”

Before I had finished speaking, Clippy tossed an ad from his orb at me, and the ad-space went dark.

From the surrounding darkness, a faint trumpet began to ring. From its direction, light began to glow, exposing a beautiful, but alien, desert landscape. Cactus shapes jutting from the desert’s jet black sand reached for the sunlight.

The music swelled as a large, winged bat flew into view, swooping low over the desert cacti.

“Hi! I’m Morbin!” The bat flew into frame, long locks of black hair sweeping back in the wind around his face. The creature’s nose was oversized and piglike, above a mouth filled with spikes of pointed teeth.

His ears were gigantic, and ribbed. Several slopes and gradients built into the cartilage structure, creating a horn shaped funnel into Morbin’s head. The bat creature twitched his ears, and a wavering visual effect rippled across the still-dark desert. Shapes of reaching, twisted cacti and long sweeping dunes were exposed in faded lines of light and sound.

“I can meet any sonic based reconnaissance and defense needs for your affiliate,” Morbin said, flashing the camera a toothy smile. “For an affordable, negotiated price. Contact Morbin Freelancing today!”

The ad crashed to a close with a final swell of music, leaving the affiliate name and a picture of Morbin’s bat face, with the advertisement line; it’s Morbin time’ beneath them.

I pulled up my phone in the ad-space and called him. The phone looked, felt, and operated exactly the same as it did in the real world, and the bald headed being in it nodded at my request, before turning into a tunnel to connect us.

A moment later, he answered the phone with a high pitched squeak that was simultaneously difficult to properly hear, and painful.

“Oh sorry, hi. Human, huh? You from Nu-Earth?” Morbin asked. His voice carried a faint accent reminiscent of eastern europe before BuyMort.

“Yeah, I run an affiliate in Arizona. We need radar, early warning against aerial attack,” I answered.

Morbin blinked his black eyes. “Arizona? I know where that is, that’s right in the middle of Dearth territory. That who’s attacking you, I assume?”

I nodded. “It is. We have defensive means, we just have no early warning system.”

“And Dearth has been buying up all the radar, so you need a service instead of an item. My rate for taking on top ten affiliates is five million, per week, up front. Non-negotiable add-on to the rest of my rates,” he said, casually. “Crossing top tens is not something I do for free, but the service you’ll get is top notch. I can literally even do my job in my sleep, I’m really just that good. It’s worth the morties.”

I ground my teeth at the price, staring at the creature on the screen. He was seated, wings folded over his broad, muscular chest. The alien bat simply stared back at me.

“Agreed,” I said finally. “When can you start?” With the Sleem farm upgraded, and the extra morties we got anytime we fought Dearth directly, I figured we could afford it. Besides, it wasn’t like I was in any position to argue or negotiate.

“I’m already on my way, Tyson Dawes of Silken Sands. Should be there by tonight, but I’ll need something rather specific to stay in. Do you have construction available?” Morbin asked.

I nodded. “We do. Some new structures are being built right now. I’ll add on whatever you need. Can you send me the instructions somehow?” I froze, a deep scowl on my face. “Hold on, how the hell did you know my name? Or my affiliate?”

Morbin grinned, his pointed teeth gleaming yellow in the light. “Only one fool fighting Dearth on Nu-Earth and winning. You’re getting famous, mister, turn on the television sometime. Might find yourself on a who’s who list.”

That was mildly unsettling, but I ignored it as I got a notification letting me know his schematics had come through. It was a roost. Morbin required a sophisticated bat box, with dimensions that made me wonder what size he was. The box was required to be dozens of square feet around, but only a few feet tall. It was also required that the roost be at least twenty-five feet off the ground, on stilts.

“You get the schematics?” Morbin asked.

I nodded slowly, still looking them over. Mud-crete was on the list of approved building materials, which made me grateful, as that market hadn’t been weaponized against us quite yet. “This won’t be a problem, I can have my crew assemble it before tonight. Roughly when are you arriving?”

Morbin reached a long wing with tiny claws up and to his side and slid a panel on the nearby wall open to reveal the darkness of space. Outside of his window, a red planet could be seen, with a trail of twinkling ships in lines around it. The alien was on a ship, using Mars to slingshot toward us. The largest line of ships visible in the window was behind Morbins vessel. “Should be there before nightfall, according to my manifest.”

The background around him was lit somewhat by the red planet in the window, and I could see that Morbin was seated in what looked like an oversized commercial flight seat.

“Oh, okay, thank you. I’ll see you tonight then, I suppose,” I said.

Morbin nodded and smiled again. “Get your affiliate ready for Morbin time.” He disconnected, and missed the grimace on my face when he said it.

As the call vanished, Clippy returned, swooping in toward me from his orb. “Did I help you solve your problem?!”

I frowned, and started nodding. “You really did, Clippy, thank you. Work on that bedside manner, I’ll catch you next time.”

The animated paperclip, and the entity hiding behind it exalted in joy. It was palpable, and Clippy started whirling in circles near the top of his orb, shrieking in exaltation and excitement. The presence behind the veil seemed to swell, and become manic with excitement.