Thegn thunders over the battered remains of a highway road, his gnarled hands on handlebars. Black exhaust pours out of the back of his ride as he thumps his way along. He knows he’s playing out a cliché—or at least, it would be a cliché if this were an earlier time. Death crossing the land on his pale fire-breathing steed.

He couldn’t care less, though. The continued rumble of the old motorcycle’s engine is just loud enough to mask the persistent buzzing sound in his mind. His connection to the Karui hive. He’s a long way from the closest nexus, so he’s out of range from their pervasive means of telepathic communication. At this distance, they can’t read his mind the same instant way they can when they’re nearby. Still, though, there’s that buzz in his brain. A constant hum that reminds him the connection is still there.

He exhales deeply and lets the droning pulse of the motor and wind roar over his mind as the road rolls under him. It’s the most calm he’s felt in a while.

Do you really think it’s her again?

“Fuck!” The unexpected voice in his head breaks Thegn from his reverie, causing him to swerve. If he was in a state of calm before, he’s at the far opposite side of the spectrum now.

He fixes his course and glances down at the white rat sitting in the saddlebag to his left. Caffiel. His only companion over the years. The one who has been with him the longest, even through this current hundred-and-fifty-year debacle. Annoying know-it-all rodent.

The rat continues, the voice in Thegn’s mind clear over the growling motor. It’s Thegn’s voice, but the rat’s words. I mean, it’s been quite some time since you last dispatched her. You seemed hopeful that last time would be, well, the last time.

Thegn keeps his eyes straight ahead. “You do realize that I might’ve laid this bike down from that, right? I cut the wheel too hard and you’d be a road stain.”

You’re avoiding the question.

“I’m not avoiding anything. You interrupted me.” Thegn pulses the throttle to punctuate his point.

How exactly did I interrupt you? You weren’t saying anything.

“It’s my head. I was here first.”

If he could sigh telepathically, that’s what Caffiel would be doing right now. Thegn focuses on the road, but reflexively smiles. The mental picture of the rat trying to reach its forehead with its tiny arms and pinch its brow is just too good.

Fine. I know how much you dislike telepathy as a means of communication. However, I’m not exactly within your field of view, so visual cues aren’t a viable option.

“You could just quietly enjoy the ride.”

We’ve been on the road for hours. And it’s not like I have enough space in this sack to do something that might occupy that time.

“You are the sleep sigil. Sloth incarnate. Your waking hours are few and far between.”

And I very much prefer to be productive in those hours. So. Back to my question. Do you really think it’s her?

“Again.”

Pardon?

“You asked if it was really her again.”

There’s the briefest of pauses before the rat responds, I’ll not be dragged into a semantic debate, young one.

Young one. Caffiel likes to remind him of the difference in their ages, despite their respective appearances. Thegn looks at his aged, spindly fingers wrapped around each handle of the bike. His arms, pallid and scarred, have been pickled in the vinegar of time. He has certainly put this body through its paces, but there is still more to be done.

He revs the motor before he responds. “Yes. It’s her.”

The silence between them feels louder and says more than the chugging engine of the bike as they push forward down the road. He had found her again. Fairly late in this generation, though. There’s only been a few times where he’s allowed her to get this old. The others are harmless, easy to manage. They’re easy to bend to submission. But not her. Not Durga.

“Do you think that—”

Thegn’s words are cut short as the minor buzzing in his head suddenly explodes and envelops all of his senses. He’s vaguely aware of his body riding along on the motorcycle, but there’s nothing he can do to control it. He’s stuck in a mental void. Words from Caffiel echo far away, like in a deep chasm.

The buzzing increases. Insistent. Demanding. The Karui hive. Thegn may be out of reach of any members of the hive or a nexus, but they can still communicate with him across that distance. However, since he’s not fully part of the hive, there are trade-offs.

Motherfucker! I told you to give me a warning before reaching out to me this way. Ping my comm.

The response from the hive doesn’t have a voice. Not like how it is with Caffiel. For the hive, the buzz simply gets louder, and Thegn suddenly understands its meaning.

Well, you should’ve pinged more than once. Motorcycles are loud.

Yes, I’m on a motorcycle. Why do you think I’m so pissed off? My consciousness can’t be in two places at the same time. This long-distance telepathy has me frozen on that bike. Not exactly safe.

The buzz’s response—the hive’s response—is impatient. Displeased.

I’ll take whatever risks I damn well please. That’s part of our deal.

Look, do you want to get to the point? The highway in this area is straight, but—

The hive cuts off his thought. They want her. Another of the Four to bolster their ranks. A weapon to carve their path to victory.

You can’t control her.

They convey that they can, and they will. One way or another. Just like they control him.

It’s a bad move. It’s better to kill her, as we’ve done before. Better for everyone. Thegn has more thoughts on the matter, but he can’t think them. Not now, when they can hear. He made that mistake before when he recognized her and said her name.

I’m retracing the path of that merc’s head. There’s another outpost town just south of here; that may be where his team fought her.

It’s not certain she’s been triggered yet. I won’t know until I face her directly. Then—

Stop interrupting! I don’t care if you know my answer without me thinking the sentence. Yes, I can still defeat her.

The drone of the hive pushes to the edges of his mind. Prodding. Searching. Testing.

I’ll get you your fucking weapon. Are we done?

The answer comes in the form of a quick release of the buzzing and humming in his brain, soon replaced by the bellow of the motorcycle engine, the feeling of wind in his face, and the sensation of Caffiel digging claws into his shoulder and screaming in his mind.

Thegn!

A chunk of the road is missing, replaced by dirt, scrub brush, and a ten-inch drop. Thegn manages the drop reasonably well, but the other side of the hole is too close. Thegn and Caffiel are launched from the bike’s saddle. He watches as the motorcycle somersaults beneath them as he feels a sharp, burning sensation at his shoulder blades. His wings have emerged. He glides down to the road on the other side of the hole and continues to walk as his wings fold up behind him.

That outpost town isn’t far from here. He has a job to do. Fuck the hive.

They did their long-distance thing on you again, didn’t they? From his perch on Thegn’s shoulder, Caffiel looks back at the wreckage behind them. You lose so many bikes that way.

“Stay the fuck out of my head, Caffiel.”