“Your honor, I claim my client’s innocence based on exigent circumstances.”

“Explain.”

“He was unable to pay his debts through no fault of his own. He had the funds available but was trapped in a pocket realm due to a cursed artifact he had inherited.”

“What’s the nature of this artifact?”

“It appears to be a common penny your honor, but a magical investigation revealed that upon holding it for a period of time, the wielder would be shunted off to an enclosed area. It took him more than three months to escape.”

“Sounds like payment deferment due to misadventure would be appropriate in this case.”

“Aye your honor. My client was in a cent.”

--Trial Recordings, Lenorian Magistrate. From: “In a cent: My Journey for Justice.” AC 1427.

I pound on the newly formed wall, my claws striking against the compressed stone. I activate my skills in sequence, trying to get through. [Earth Manipulation] to try to soften the material. [Sever] to provide more force to my strikes. [Water Manipulation] to decrease the speed and friction of my claw in the water. Ringing noises sound in the depths of the cave as I try everything I can to break into the trap in front of me. I back up, panting and look at the fruits of my efforts. A thin scratch is all I can see, and as I watch, the red mana that encompasses the box glows brighter for a moment. To my dismay, the scratch begins healing, and in seconds is completely closed up. My thoughts spin, lifting and discarding potential courses of action. As my emotions grow too overwhelming, I latch a mental claw on my panic and force it down. All that’s left is a thin spike of anger that pulses through my shell. You want to keep one of us trapped in there?

Fine.

I look at Luna and say,

"Pile up at least five legs at the base of the structure. I'll do a mana-up and compress what I need into an explosion as well. We'll see how this wall fares when the two meet."

She moves forward, yet before she can begin pulling explosives from her spatial storage, I hear a crackling from my comms.

"Wait a second Luna, hold up."

"...come in... Crabby..."

The communication is faint, and there is a lot of interference. It must be due to the mana suppressant effects of the stone. I move as close to the trap as I can and receive a better signal.

"...you there?"

"I'm here Sergeant Smith. I tried to break in, but the trap began healing itself. I was going to pile some explosives to see if I can overwhelm the repair function."

"....negative. Mission... priority... stealth... continue... mission."

I take a second to parse out what he's trying to say. Then, I immediately balk at the order. I transmit back to him,

"We can't just leave you here!"

"...affirmative. Report... status... higher... explosion... alert... enemy."

I consider my plan in light of what he's saying. It seems like a risk. There's no telling if whatever this cube is has some sort of function to inform whoever set it. I realize I'm not experienced enough to make that kind of call and take out the geo-locator that Sergeant Smith had previously given me. A few button clicks later and I'm ready to send a report up. As I'm about to send it I realize that I don't know the call sign of whoever is on the other side of this thing. I didn't think to ask at the time, and I certainly wasn't expecting to use it so soon. Resolving to do better in the future, I press transmit,

"Err... any station on this channel, this is Specialist Crabby with..."

What's my official call sign? Normally those are assigned to me. I'll just continue using Mooncrab.

"...Mooncrab squad. I'm currently on a scouting mission under Sergeant Smith's command. We're surveying the cave system discovered approximately one kilometer from the trench and Sergeant Smith is trapped in some kind of glowing compressed stone box. We are unable to get him out without compromising stealth. Requesting orders."

I release the transmit button and wait. Time seems to stretch into the distance, and I stare impatiently at the box in my claws. Finally, a voice comes out of it and I almost drop it in surprise.

"Mooncrab squad? This is the command frequency for the MIB. How did you get access to this communication channel?"

MIB? It takes me a second, but then I remember the Men in Blue. It seems like forever ago that I met Agent Hypnofrog in the depths of the Deepwater Dungeon. I glance suspiciously at the trap that Sergeant Smith is contained in. Who does he work for? I put that aside, focusing on the matter at hand.

"I was given a geo-locator by Sergeant Smith. He's an isopod paladin, and we are currently doing a scouting mission under his direction. I say again, he has been trapped in a compressed stone box. We are unable to get him free without breaking stealth. Requesting orders."

The pause on the other end is even longer this time. Finally, whoever is speaking on the other line is replaced. A gruff voice says,

"We'll send out a rescue team within the next few hours. Be advised, the trap you've described is a new ploy recently used by the enemy. Full disclosure to the troops was scheduled for next week, but then the trench got all riled up. Continue on with your mission. We need to ensure that the enemy is not burrowing under our lines. How copy?"

My insides clench as I consider the orders. Continue on? What if they can't get someone out here in time? What if there are additional failsafes in the trap design that will do more than just contain him? What if the corruption has already been notified and we're walking into an ambush? My thoughts whir and I grit my mandibles. I ask,

"To clarify. You want us to leave him and continue on? What happened to never leave a fallen soldier?"

There is no delay this time, the communications box immediately spewing out instructions,

"Listen here Specialist. The mission comes first. There are things going on that you don't understand at your level. We need this intel. Do you copy?"

Everything about this twists me the wrong way; the subterfuge, leaving Sergeant Smith here, venturing into the cave system without backup or support. What could be going on that would warrant such extreme circumstances? We're new soldiers for Wisdom’s sake! I tense up, and then release, having made my decision. The MIB is right. I don't know what's going on. All I can do is trust the process. Resolved, I call back.

"Affirmative. Mooncrab squad moving out."

I place the box back in my spatial inventory and transmit to Sergeant Smith. I let him know what's going on and he responds with a simple,

"…stealth …last …three hours …God speed …Crabby."

I nod and turn to the rest of the squad. They're on edge, clearly upset with the situation. I realize they must have heard everything that just went on and try to affect an aura of calm. The situation is tense enough as it is, I shouldn’t make it worse. I nonchalantly say,

"It looks like it's just us then guys. Prepare to move out."

We form up, and a nagging doubt circulates in my mind.

What the heck is going on up there?

Two hundred meters from the trench.

"Mooncrab squad moving out..."

Mr. Black places the cube back on the desk in front of the dispatcher. It joins a series of ten other cubes, all arrayed neatly on the desk. A second's warning is all he has before he's diving to the floor, a compressive shock wave expanding from the mana artillery. After getting to his feet, he shuffles out from the tent he's in, brushing past the vegetation used to camouflage this position. Moaning and wounded soldiers lie haphazardly along the trench line, and a medic squad passes through… triaging and treating as able.

Moving to the earthen wall next to him, he peaks his head over the defensive trench. Far above, a megalodon twists in pain. A hole is gouged out of his side and he slowly turns, limping back to receive medical care. A swarm of clown fish provides cover fire, trying to suppress the enemy titan that had just launched out of the abyssal trench. The enemy had caught them by surprise, and the clownfish were firing off bolts in sequence, aiming for the eyes; trying to blind and distract from pursuing the shark.

Mr. Black sighed, wishing he had a pipe, and returned to file a report. He grabbed a cube from his storage and sent the information to the rear through normal channels. The telling was short, just an account of the battle sent to the rear. He hesitated and then added his own analysis. It seemed that the Navy would need to move up additional heavy support if the enemy continued revealing larger forces. A shudder coursed down Mr. Black’s spine and an ill thought rose from the shadows of his mind. Hopefully they wouldn't need to call on the veterans outside the incursion zone.

He considered the course of the battle thus far, and the steady escalation on both sides. The problem with commiserate response is that the enemy would respond in kind. Which seems all well and good until you’re a small fish trying to dodge fights between krakens and leviathans. The casualty projections are already higher than expected and a fight like that would leave too many dead and wounded. Mr. Black set aside those thoughts for the moment and got back to his usual job; tracking the progress of the asymmetric warfare teams.

Ten geo-locators laid on the table in front of the dispatcher. Seven of them belonged to scouting teams Mr. Smith had sent out. After initial reports that the enemy had burrowed in multiple directions, elite scouting squads were sent out to investigate each and every possible ingress route. It was immediately after that the main initiative was started and the larger consensus from higher was the burrow sites were a failed gambit on behalf of the enemy.

And yet…

Six of the geo-locators laid dull and blank, indicating that the partner device had lost contact with the parent. Six teams potentially gone dark. Though he knew it would be useless, Mr. Smith requested additional assets to investigate. He didn't have the authority to reassign troops, he was military intelligence after all. But still... as he looked at the map of the front, and the seven locations behind the lines where the corruption had broken the surface... a nagging concern continued to grow.

He had a bad feeling about this.