Now, Threnosh World

“I request inclusion in the Task,” Kynnro said.

Caretaker watched their teammate through the lens of their predictive algorithm. Dozens of information streams were fed to them from Kynnro’s simple act of walking into the command chamber and standing at attention.

To the naked eye Kynnro appeared as if they had been healed. Such was the Threnosh level of technology. Critical injuries fixed impossibly quick. Power armor, a gift from the spires, that bore the burden of physical movement for the frail body within.

To Caretaker’s eyes Kynnro was functioning at less than fifty percent.

“You are supposed to be still within the medical pod,” Caretaker said flatly.

“My injuries have been healed to a sufficient level and my trueskin has been repaired. I am ready to take my part in the task.”

“Denied. You are at forty-seven percent of your full capability. Inclusion in the team will decrease overall probability of success.”

Kynnro couldn’t argue against that statement. They had only always known Caretaker to never make a mistake when it came to probabilities. And yet, they knew that they had to be a part of the operation. They couldn’t simply lay in a medical pod while their teammates faced danger. While the other Threnosh soldiers were being sacrificed as a distraction for the Task.

“I will perform above your assessment. As Honor has stated several times. We are capable of going beyond what the projections indicate. Many of us had done so. You and I included,” Kynnro said.

“That is true, however my orders stand. It is my determination that the injuries you suffered are too critical for you to overcome in this specific case,” Caretaker said flatly. “Rest and heal. There will be plenty of future battles for you to take part in.”

The dismissal was clear. Kynnro inclined their head slightly and left on almost imperceptibly unsteady legs.

A frown creased Caretaker’s smooth brow as soon as Kynnro was gone. Their teammate had pulled themselves out of the medical pod in just two days. They didn’t know what to make of it. It was the first time that any of their team had ever willing removed themselves out of a medical pod before the required amount of time for full healing.

The concern was dismissed as they turned their full attention back on the upcoming operation. They were hours away for proceeding and they were watching the surveillance feeds closely to see if there was any change in the cragants’ behavior.

There were none. The giant humanoids had continued their angry assault over the past two days. The Threnosh soldiers gave them a fight to keep them distracted and to continually pull them further away from the center of their main base within the city.

Everything was aligned.

Caretaker only needed to give the final word.

A message to the senior commander as a formality. This Task was strictly within the provision of their team, the T-men.

“Begin preparations to depart,” Caretaker said into the team channel.

“What is it, hierophant?” General Zanya was in a foul mood. The enemy had struck a direct blow to her pride as a leader. It wasn’t so much that they had killed Legate Rathus, but rather the dishonorable manner in which they did it. To sneak in under the cover of darkness and to use an array of tricks was enraging. “I am busy conducting a war.”

“Indeed that is why I summoned you,” Elgorit looked up at the general with an upturned nose. The effect was lost due to the fact that the general was a lot larger. “I am concerned that my defenses have been weakened by your actions over the last few days.”

“The cowardly assault on Legate Rathus must be answered with overwhelming force.” General Zanya stared at the hierophant in disbelief. She realized that she shouldn’t have been surprised. Devotion to their distasteful workings had clearly severed the hierophants from the rightful ways of their people.

Elgorit waved a blood and grime encrusted hand dismissively. They were uncowed by the general’s dreadful mien. “Yes, yes… of course. However, that is no excuse for the complete abandonment of your primary duty.”

General Zanya narrowed her eyes.

“I know you would never forget that all things in the Savior takes priority and as a direct representative, I embody the Savior on this world.” Elgorit gave her a thin smile. “It is unwise to expose the will of the Savior to unnecessary danger.”

“You question my ability to protect you?” The veins on General Zanya’s neck clenched like wriggling snakes beneath her thick skin.

“Frankly, yes. It has been many months and you have consistently failed to root out these tiny gray ones.”

“The disposition of the legions is under my authority,” General Zanya snapped. She had enough of the grotesque hierophant.

“And a fine job you are doing… except,” Elgorit drummed crusty fingers on his chin, “one finds it suspicious that the gray ones are now giving open battle when they had spent months throwing soulless automatons at our forces while running away and disappearing into the bowels of the city before we could crush them with our superior strength.” He cleared his throat with a disgustingly wet sound and spat the resultant filth near, but not directly at the general’s boots. “Your thoughts, general?”

General Zanya grit her teeth. The easy denial died in her throat. She couldn’t refute the hierophant, as much as she desired it. Her experience and gut echoed what the hierophant had said. Yet, cragant honor demanded they assert their dominance over the gray ones that relied on artifice and trickery to barely compete on battlefield with them.

“I simply question the wisdom of leaving my, our, protection in the hands of your personal guard. Although they are certainly elite, their numbers are rather… lacking… in my eyes.”

The general was done with the hierophant. She spun on her heel without further word and departed the foul-smelling chamber.

“General?” Adjutant Trusk was waiting for her outside the door.

“Place our legionnaires on high alert. Double the guard on the hierophant. Pull back from the perimeter. It is better that we concentrate our forces on the hierophant’s dwelling.”

“My suspicions?”

“Are likely. Yes, yes,” General Zanya gave a bitter smile. “I suppose this is me admitting that you were right.”

“Then we are to expect an attack at any time.”

General Zanya nodded. “With the night. They’ll try to do to us what they did to the 3rd Legion.”

“I will see to it that your guard is ready,” Trusk said with a salute as he tromped away from the general’s side.

The cragant’s great height allowed her to see far into the city. General Zanya felt like she was walking among a set of a young one’s toy blocks. Gray with a metallic sheen that sometimes reflected the dying sun as it began its descent over the horizon.

She tried to ignore the feeling. She couldn’t admit that such weak and tiny ones had managed to teach her something like fear. Not for her life, no, true cragants didn’t fear death so long as they died well, fighting to the end. Failure was the demon that occupied her thoughts. The thought that her line would suffer if the Savior found her performance lacking weighed heavily on her.

Had she made a mistake in not debasing herself to the hierophant? If he returned to the Savior with ill words on her behalf?

She shook her head. One concern at a time.

The unique gray ones were coming. She was convinced now. All she had to do was stop them and then all her concerns would be as pebbles to grind beneath her boots.

Typical Threnosh cities were built both below and above ground level when the geography allowed it. Cold Plains City was an example of this. There were numerous underground ways for the T-Men to reach their target undetected.

To the cragants’ credit once they had realized this they had made the painstaking effort to open up the ground like a metal can around their main base. They hadn’t had the time to do the same to their outposts, which Caretaker had used to get Shira into position right beneath the 3rd Legion’s camp.

They weren’t able to repeat the same tactic with the main cragant base. They had to settle for emerging several hundred meters beyond the perimeter of the base.

Rough-hewn trees had been turned into a thick and tall fence. The wall only rose to about neck level for the average cragant, which was more than enough height when placed next to the much shorter Threnosh.

Ultimately the cragants wasted the effort in erecting the wall. Standard Threnosh doctrine would never call for a direct assault with ground bound soldiers.

“No sentries on the wall,” Volkharion said. “I have scattered my surveillance drones throughout the entire base. The entire enemy force is concentrated around the structure housing the primary target, Designation: Hierophant.”

“The enemy commander suspects,” Caretaker said.

“Strength and weight of numbers will make completing the Task difficult without further casualties,” Adjudicator said.

“No, we will scatter them with a fierce and overwhelming attack. The time for hiding and hitting from a distance is finished,” Primal said.

Caretaker said nothing. They let their predictive algorithm go to work with the problem in front of them. Multiple actions and results played out for them and only them. Optimum success was wagered against sub-optimal casualty numbers for their team. They searched and waited for one that predicted success without catastrophic injury and death. It didn’t come. There were too many variables. Namely the hierophant’s mysterious ability. Magic, as Honor had called it. The algorithm couldn’t factor it into its predictions with accuracy.

In the end they had to settle for the best possible path forward, which didn’t feel right. Something Caretaker wasn’t familiar with when it came to their operations.

They quickly sent out specific orders to each team member, along with suggested routes to get into their positions.

“You all know the plan and your places in it. Do not be afraid to deviate if necessary. I trust your ability to decide if the situation calls for improvisation,” Caretaker said. “As a final reminder. Success is crucial, but not at all costs. Intelligent risks only. Do not be reckless.”

The team checked their weapons and systems one last time before heading their separate ways. Some went off on their own, while others departed in twos and threes.

Silver Wolf transitioned to their four-legged form and padded with surprising silence next to Caretaker, Shira, Malendrax and Blueballs as they descended into another dark tunnel beneath the street that led into the cragants’ makeshift fort.

Their group was the largest.

Primal stomped to their assigned position with heavy steps that shook the metallic streets.

Whoosh glided with smooth strides and light boosts from the jets that dotted their power armor. They made for the opposite side of the cragant fort. They itched to go faster, but Caretaker’s orders were precise and to the second. They were to arrive at the exact time. No sooner or later.

Actryarius ran as fast as they could through all of the structures in their way. They had a lot of items to give to the cragants.

Adjudicator and Tynk trailed in Actryarious’ wake. They had to stick to the structures to mask their approach, not that there were any eyes to observe them.

Resplendent Zabriium trotted to their spot. A long, straight street that led right to the enemy fort.

They all waited for their moment. It felt as if this was what they had been building up to over the last several years. The true test of their worth. From so-called Defectives to perhaps the hope for the entire Threnosh world against the gigantic upworld invaders. They had to show that the cragants weren’t unbeatable.

Caretaker didn’t need to give the order, but it felt like the right thing to do.

“Begin.”

Primal shot a massive arrow that exploded a wide section of the wooden wall open. They immediately stowed their bow and started running forward. This battle was going to be fought in closer quarters. Long-range bombardment would’ve meant a high probability of friendly fire. That was just fine with them. They were tired of sitting far away and taking shots at the giant humanoids.

Resplendent Zabriium’s thundering gallop echoed across the largely empty city. They aimed right for the gaping hole that Primal had just opened.

“You will leave enemies for me, Zabri,” Primal threatened over the comms.

“There are enough for you to indulge your unnecessary desire for close combat,” Resplendent Zabriium said.

“That is my expectation. Do not deny me. I have waited long enough.”

Whoosh circled around the far side of the enemy base while they waited for their time to shine. They listened in on the chatter over the comms as the one-sided argument between Primal and Resplendent Zabriium continued. The former continued to grumble, while the latter mostly grunted or remained silent. They’d never admit it to Primal’s face, but they found the diminutive Threnosh’s disagreeable nature entertaining.

Actryarius felt differently. They wished they could mute Primal in the team channel, but for obvious reasons that wasn’t possible in the middle of an active combat situation. They did the best they could to ignore their teammate. They needed every once of concentration they could muster to phase the large, hard pack affixed to the back of their power armor as they rushed through the structures in between them and the enemy base. Going intangible with their power armor was easy, instinctive. Taking other things along wasn’t. Size and quantity increased the difficulty. They couldn’t afford to lose focus and leave the contents of their pack merged with the walls of the structures. The effects of that would be catastrophic to Caretaker’s plan, let alone to themselves.

They had worked hard and squeezed every opportunity to improve their control over the past year in the long fight for Cold Plains City. The results of the experience and effort showed. Actryarius carried their pack into the enemy base well-ahead of Resplendent Zabriium and Primal. They slipped through the final wooden barrier and hurried to set their items where Caretaker’s orders directed.

There wasn’t much space in terms of timing. Everything had to be precisely done.

The ceiling over Caretaker’s head opened up in jagged rents. The cragants had torn up the ground around the outer edge of their base. They had created an island centered around the hierophant’s building. With only fifty or so defenders left it allowed them to shrink the area they had to guard.

“Wait.”

Caretaker’s hand shifted imperceptibly. They were ready to grab Shira. There was a fifty percent probability according to their algorithm that their black-armored teammate was about to jump up to ground level and attack.

Shira restrained themselves, to Caretaker’s relief.

“Soon.”

Caretaker watched the cragants’ reaction to Primal’s explosive attack from the flying surveillance drones. There was less than they had planned. The giant humanoids stayed in their defensive pockets around the entire outer perimeter of the large structure the hierophant had claimed.

“Volkharion, any update on the interior?” Caretaker spoke into the comms.

“Negative. I lost connection with my surveillance drones the moment I sent them inside,” Volkharion said.

“Very well. I release you to deploy your combat drones at your discretion. Prevent the enemy forces from entering the structure as best as you can.”

“Acknowledged.”

A loud explosion from above suddenly shook the tunnel.

“Let us go,” Caretaker said.

Shira took the lead, followed by Malendrax, then Caretaker. Silver Wolf flanked them to the left and a little behind, while Blueballs was almost directly behind Caretaker.

“Move two meters to the right,” Caretaker said without looking back. They knew what Blueballs was doing. “You require a clear line of sight to potential threats.”

“Acknowledged,” Blueballs sighed, but quickly complied.

Much of the base camp between the walls and the hierophant’s structure was already shrouded in darkness. With the bulk of their forces out in the city the torches that would’ve been lit amidst the soldier’s tents were cold.

The team moved quickly, but with caution and silence. The canvas tents dwarfed them. It was a strange feeling. It was like walking through the largest and densest of Threnosh cities. Except instead of gleaming metal structures rising above them the were surrounded by cloth draped over wooden frames. The way the cloth rippled and moved with the wind was unnerving. The tents rivaled the largest structures in Cold Plains City, yet they gave the impression of instability.

Shira’s power armor drank in the darkness, somehow creating a deep void that was darker than the color black. Caretaker had difficulty pinpointing their teammate’s position even with the aid from their predictive algorithm.

“Shira, you are advancing too quickly.”

The blackness slowed, as far as Caretaker could tell.

They reached the end of the tents and stood across the last fifty or so meters to the hierophant’s structure. The cragants stood at the ready in small groups in their typical shield-line formation. Five in a group, with other groups within sighting distance in the light of the torches they had mounted on the side of the structure.

Caretaker had plotted their approach toward the rear of the building, on the opposite side from the entrance. They had counted on their assessment of the cragant psychology. The giant humanoids were uncomplicated warriors. They sought to face their enemies head on. Their commanders, unlike the Threnosh, fought alongside their soldiers, something Caretaker understood. As such, they had predicted that the command staff would take up a position guarding the entrance to the structure. This in turn meant that the best fighters would also be there.

The highest probability of success for their Task was when they avoided direct combat with these individuals for as long as possible. Be where your enemy doesn’t expect you to be. It was one of the most basic things that Caretaker had learned about tactics.

“Silver Wolf, engage the enemy and draw them away.” Caretaker directed toward the handful of cragants that were as of yet unaware that death lurked in the shadows. “Once the space is clear, the rest of us will ingress into the structure.”

The start of the battle was heralded by a four-legged, metal-clad canine beast bounding out of the darkness like a blur.

These cragants were the elite. Though surprised, they formed up behind their shields and readied their weapons. They weren’t ready for Silver Wolf’s mid-leap transformation. The Threnosh howled as they struck.

The shouts drew another group of cragants rushing to join in the fight.

It was what Caretaker had been waiting for. “Go,” they commanded.

Now, Earth

Keisha Davidson didn’t envision her life turning out the way it did when she had moved from the southeast to the west coast to attend college, while living with her grandmother. A decade had passed since she had started at UC Davis on an athletic scholarship. She had a brief dream of the Olympics, but two years in and she had to be honest with herself that wasn’t going to be likely. So, she had focused on doing her best in both sport and studies. She had been aiming for medical school when the world ended.

Everything that had happened since the spires appeared felt like another person’s experience.

Her grandmother had passed away a few years ago. The thought brought a pang of pain. She was the only family Keisha had left. As far as she knew the rest of her family back home was probably dead. Not knowing killed her. And she had know way of finding out.

Almost a decade since the spires ruined all of her hopes and dreams.

Keisha was a scholar and an athlete. Now, she was a warrior, a soldier, a squad leader.

Now she had a Class. Not the classes that she was forced into in the time before. Once she was judged on her race, appearance, how much money she had. She supposed that she could look at it as an improvement, but she wasn’t sure about that.

Her Class, Classes, she had picked up another one in addition to the original, was a quantifiable thing. It was codified by the spires. They couldn’t take that away from her or diminish her as they did in the old society.

Was it better now? Or worse? Maybe it was only a matter of exchanging one evil, controlling system for another.

It was all a game anyways. Now it was just more honest and in your face. Not whispered behind your back or hidden behind unjust laws and a rigged system.

Still, Keisha wasn’t fooled. Unlike the others. She wasn’t blinded by the exciting abilities and powers. Even if it leveled the playing field in a way that hadn’t truly been possible before, despite what the old controlling powers would have had the people believe.

“So… are we going in or not?” Trevor dragged the words out slowly.

Keisha ignored the young man. She kept her eyes on the office building. Dark windows and mirrored glass made it impossible to discern anything on the inside. The encroaching gloom of night didn’t help either. It was some kind of health insurance provider’s office back in the day. Now it was just an empty building. It had been claimed, however, by one of the Cruces brothers to prevent monster spawns.

Which was why the Watch squad was there. They had received reports of shadowy figures entering and exiting over the past few nights. They were so undermanned that they were only able to check it out now.

“Shut the fuck up, Trevor!” Amber snapped.

Keisha held her hand up and turned her head to the rest of her team to forestall the argument.

Amber closed her mouth, but the petite blond kept a laser-focused glare on Trevor.

“Look, guys. I’m just a little nervous about being on the edge of our zone of control this close to dark. We’ve had to give up ground thanks to the fishmen and now monsters are moving back in,” Trevor said.

“I think I did see a pretty big, dark shape down that way earlier,” Del pointed his spear down the street.

Amber snapped her head around to follow. “Damn it! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Fuck, what if it’s a gremlin alpha?” Trevor cocked his arm back. A small rock clutched in his hand.

Del shrugged. “My Danger Sense didn’t go off.”

“Relax,” Rory chuckled, “you noobs need to get that skill.” He thumped Del on the shoulder.

“Or a detect monster spell,” Trevor muttered.

“How many times do I have to tell you that we can’t just pick spells?” Amber snapped.

Keisha frowned. “Del… what about from in there.” She pointed her heavy, two-handed sledge hammer at the office building.

“I’m not picking up anything.”

“So, we’re wasting our time,” Trevor said. “We can go back now? Before it gets really dark.”

Rory snickered.

“What?”

“Nothing, Trevor, just didn’t know that you were scared of the dark.”

“Well, I’m not. I just can’t see in the dark and neither can any of you.”

“We’ve got lanterns and lights.”

“Except they don’t go out more than fifty to a hundred feet,” Trevor said. “Monsters, fishmen, cult fucks… that much distance is way too close for me. I can take them out from much further out if I can see them.”

Keisha ignored the bickering while she weighed their options. The squad was undermanned as was usual these days. The conflict with the Bay Area cultists and the fishmen hadn’t gone well. People had died. People she had come to see as part of her team, if not exactly friends. She had found it hard to make friends when death was something that she had to factor in her daily calculus. It led to a natural distance when it came to interpersonal relationships.

Figures had been seen entering and exiting the office building. None of Keisha’s people for sure. Monsters were a possibility, but the building was still technically under one of the Cruces’ control, ownership, whatever, she didn’t quite get how that worked, nor did she care to understand. She acknowledged that it was willful ignorance and probably harmful. But like not eating her vegetables when she was a kid, she still resisted even if she knew, intellectually what the right action was.

Cultists.

The word made her clench up with anger. Their community had been building toward safety and security from monsters and with more mundane concerns like food and supplies. She felt as if they had some semblance of normalcy within their grasp. It had taken years.

The damn cultists ruined it within a matter of weeks. Now the past year and half found them forced back into a life or death struggle. Or an even worse fate according to some reports.

“Those cultists can summon the fishmen, right?” Keisha said to no one in particular.

“Yeah, if you believe what those kids said,” Rory scoffed.

Trevor nodded. “Gene and them are legit. If they said the cultists summoned a fishman then that’s what happened.”

“A large office building on the edge of our territory without a lot of eyes on it,” Keisha nodded. “Seems like a good place to use for summoning spells, don’t it?”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, but we’re like a half-strength squad… shouldn’t we just come back with more people?” Rory said.

“Definitely,” Del said. “I’m for waiting so we can bring Remy or at least Hanna.”

“There’s no one else and those aren’t available for the foreseeable future,” Keisha said.

“Nila?” Amber added hopefully.

“Without the other two, she’s our last line of defense.”

“The kids?”

Keisha knew who Trevor was referring to. She shook her head. “Same.”

“That’s kinda bullshit,” Rory said. “They’ve got legit superpowers and I’ve seen them wreck fishmen before.”

“Not debatable,” Keisha said. “We’re going to check this out. If you don’t want to then you can stay out here and watch or something.” She picked her shield, wood core with a thin layer of metal on the outer surface courtesy of Remy Cruces. Keisha had also added a thick layer of kevlar on top of that. The added weight didn’t matter when she had an Enhanced Strength passive on top of her already big and strong athlete’s body. Tossing a shot put around since she had been a girl was a surprisingly applicable skill in the apocalypse. She gripped her sledge hammer and strode off. “Follow me or not.”

Keisha decided that she didn’t much like being a squad leader.