Enjoy today's chapter! I've enjoyed the speculation about all the strange world-building flavor I've added to this story, from rifts to aura colors and all the things in between. I'll try to continue to elaborate in bits and pieces, but some of the things I see questions about have been explained before. I think that's the kind of thing that can make a re-read of a story fun, though.

Anyway, one comment about Sass was worth addressing here (and in the story) -- she's not an overpowered special snowflake! :) She's got a white aura, which is less common than say blue or yellow, but nothing unheard of. Her aura system is pretty clever and with her aura and background, she'll get some cool abilities, but she's so low-powered right now that it doesn't matter in the greater scheme of things; she can't fight at Hector's level, even to help a little. Her sword takes 20 seconds to summon and lasts for a couple more. She'll need a lot of growing before that's helpful!Still, I have fun ideas in store for Sass and some of the other members of Hector's little found family. In fact, I have so many ideas, that I'm struggling to see how this is all going to fit in the overall story arc. <wipes sweat brow> We'll see how it goes!

-Plum

8 – I’ve Got You

Hector’s aura system began to hit him in the early afternoon again. No matter how he searched his memory, he couldn’t recall ever having an archetype that pushed his system’s advancement so hard. Hector had never felt the “warning label” effects of a level-up so thoroughly. By late morning, he was lethargic, slow-witted, and achy. The process affected him so much, in fact, that when he woke the next morning, the last thing he remembered was excusing himself from a team lunch, complaining of a headache.

He rubbed his face, his limbs heavy and slow from too much sleep. “Evie, please tell me you have a record of my actions after lunch.”

//I do. You took a forty-five-minute shower and then went to sleep. You awoke nine hours later to urinate, and then you went back to sleep until just now.//

Hector blinked, focusing his bleary eyes on the time: 0433. It seemed his internal clock was already getting used to Burton’s schedule because Evie hadn’t had to wake him. “Okay, let’s see the report.”

A window appeared on his AUI and he focused on the text:

//Corpus vivum conditioning complete and level 14 advancement has been applied. Nascent pathways have broadened, leading to new avenues of advancement and novel aura abilities. Level results are as follows:

·       Strengthened aura pathways, increasing maximum load—use caution when exploring this limit to avoid aura overload.

·       Aura Pool increased from 104 to 124.

·       Potentia threaded through skeletal muscle fibers, enhancing contractile power and raising Strength from 27 to 31.

·       Sensory integration improved, enhancing environmental awareness and raising Perception from 27 to 29.

Aura Potentia Available: 353

End Report.//

“Huh,” Hector said, absorbing the fact that only two attributes had advanced, though significantly. “Aura pool jumped nicely again.”

//I was faced with a few directional choices, and I’m trying to work on your deficits. I’m afraid pathway resistance is starting to really set in—far earlier than in your former archetypes.//

As he got up and made his way to the bathroom, Hector said, “In plain language.”

//When I map new levels for this archetype, they require dense potentia layering—much more than your previous Elite-tier archetypes. For instance, your next level will cost 288 potentia.//

Hector chewed a dental tab while he considered her words. He wasn’t stupid, and he’d been through enough levels with different archetypes to understand what she was getting at. His “Singular-tier” archetype was going to be costly, but it was worth it; he’d reclaim his old power with fewer levels, and once there, he’d have a lot more room to grow. His archetype’s ceiling would eclipse his old ones—if he could gather the potentia to climb that high.

Every archetype eventually hit a ceiling—a point where investments of potentia became so costly and the benefits so slim that even the wealthiest of the Great Houses would balk at the waste—at least that was what Hector used to believe. Lately, he wasn’t so sure. He was beginning to realize that, even when he’d walked among them, he’d been naïve about the Royals, especially where the Imperial family was concerned.

While the dental tab fizzed in his mouth, he focused on Evie’s second report and read about his new options for spending his dwindling potentia:

//Available Advancement Opportunities:

·       Level Advance 14 -> 15. Cost: 288 aura potentia.

·       Veilborn Senses 2: Improve cognitive processing of sensory input, effectively boosting your Perception attribute. Results will vary based on individual and baseline Perception. Repeatable. Purchase Cost: 75 aura potentia.

·       Skill merger opportunity detected: Shadow Stalk + Ghost Reaver -> Unknown hybrid. Purchase Cost: 126 aura potentia.

End Report.//

“Well, at least that’s easy,” he said after he spat. “Just start the next level, and yes, I confirm: spend the potentia.”

//288 potentia applied. Corpus vivum conditioning has begun. Approximately 16 hours to complete level advancement. Disorientation, weakness, and even fleeting incapacitation may occur. Extra caloric intake is recommended.

65 aura potentia remaining.//

In a way, Hector was relieved to see his meager supply of remaining potentia; he was tired of feeling sick and figured he could use a few days off. Burton had given him the impression that if he performed well during training for the first half of the voyage, he’d “reward” him with a significant portion of the potentia Gladia had supplied. Hector didn’t like playing games, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand the motivations of the people involved. Besides, he liked combat drills and exercise.

He’d just bitten off half a protein bar and stepped into the hallway when Evie interrupted his ruminations:

//Mae just contacted me; she thinks you should check on Mathews.//

Hector turned to his left, looking down the corridor toward the commander’s quarters. “Why?”

//She doesn’t have cameras inside private quarters, but she says the shower in her room has been running for nearly two hours, and that, upon review, she recorded sounds from the corridor sensors that could be construed as a struggle.//

Hector started toward the door, scowling. “When?”

//Just before the shower turned on—0241.//

As he approached the door, it beeped, and the locks disengaged; Mae was clearing his way. Even so, he pushed the call button. He heard the beep sound inside the room, waited a few seconds, and then pushed it again. When no response came, he opened the door and stood there on the threshold, looking into a disaster.

Mathews’s room looked like it had been tossed by a lunatic hunting for something they couldn’t find; her clothes and gear were strewn about the room, the drawers of her dresser had been removed and were stacked atop each other beside the door. Her sheets and clothes were torn, her gel mattress, too—hunks of the jelly-like filling smeared on the walls.

The mess was worrisome on its own, but Hector also noted smears of dried blood. Hastily, he stepped into the room and turned to his right where he could hear the shower running behind the closed bathroom door. Mathews had a room just like his and her bathroom would be the same; a toilet, sink, and shower, all sharing roughly the same space. The shower was offset about half a meter, so the water didn’t directly fall on the toilet or sink, but it wasn’t a large space.

Hector gripped the latch, found it unlocked and pulled the door wide. “Shit,” he muttered, hurrying forward when he saw Mathews. She was naked, slumped on the floor under the shower—spraying cold water—and her left hand was stretched up, tied with a shrink-cord to the plasteel towel bar which was a single solid piece molded to the wall. Blood and torn flesh around the cord told Hector she’d tried to pull it free more than once.

“Mathews,” he said, turning off the water. He stood in the puddle as it rapidly drained, grabbed her chin and gave it a gentle shake. She didn’t stir. Two seconds later, after slicing through the shrink-cord with his Aura Blade, he hauled her up into his arms and carried her out of the bathroom. Her skin was cold but she was breathing—shivering, in fact.

“Mathews!” he tried again, slapping her cheek as he set her on the ruined mattress and looked for a sheet or towel that was in mostly one piece. Her guns, disassembled and smeared with blood, were also strewn about, and as he picked up one of the sheets, a knife fell from its folds and Hector thought it was likely the source of the blood.

As he took the sheet over and wrapped it around her, he looked for cuts on her arms or hands, but only found pink scars; Mathews had medical nanites—a permanent battery implanted in her femur. Even as he inspected her, he saw the torn flesh around her wrist scabbing over. The wounds would be healed in an hour.

//I’ve asked Mae to send medics.//

“What about the damn logs? Mae didn’t see anyone coming or going from this room?”

//No, but she’s examining footage for any anomalies. She’s confirmed that there aren’t any other access points; there’s a conduit passage behind one wall, but it’s too narrow for a person to traverse. Besides, I told her the walls were intact.//

Hector glanced back toward the bathroom. “And the vent?”

//Much too small.//

“Dammit.” Hector was holding Mathews up, gripping the blanket tight under her chin. He shook her gently. “Melanie? You in there?”

She didn’t respond, nor did she come to before the medics came. They put her on a stretcher and carried her away, but not before Hector made it clear that he needed regular updates about her status. Hector was looking around the room, trying to make sense of the disastrous state of it, when Gladia and one of her two remaining security people arrived.

“Hector, this is Gil. He’s going to figure out who did this.”

“Yeah?” Hector looked at the man. “Who has access to the camera footage? I’m trying to imagine how anyone got in here, beat the shit out of my friend, tied her in the shower and then tossed her apartment without Mae noticing anything.”

Gladia stepped forward, reaching out to grasp his arm above the elbow. She looked into his eyes, her golden irises like windows into star-filled nebulae. “I’m so sorry this happened, Hector, and we’re going to get to the bottom of it.”

“I mean,” Gil said, clearing his throat. “I feel like the list of suspects is pretty short; there aren’t many people on this ship who can fight at that level, and most of them have bunks in this section.”

Hector glared at the man. He was maybe thirty, well-built and put together; his uniform was neat, and he had perfect posture. “You mean my people?”

The man blinked yellow cat eyes, nodding. “That’s where I’d like to start.”

Gladia squeezed his arm and Hector realized he was clenching his jaw. He shook his head. “You can interview my people, but we need to find out what happened to the cameras. We need to get Mathews conscious. She’ll be able to tell us what happened.”

“She has an AI?” Gil asked.

Hector made a chopping motion. “That’ll be a last resort. We’re not pulling her chip unless we have to.”

The dark-haired man nodded. “Agreed.”

Gladia let go his arm, saying, “Chief Medical Officer Dent is seeing her now. I’m sure she’ll be fine, Hector.”

Gil stepped forward, moving around Hector and Gladia, carefully stepping on sections of the plasteel floor that weren’t stained. “I’ll need to run some DNA samples and look for prints.”

“Yeah.” Hector inhaled through his nose as he stepped out of the room into the corridor.

Gladia followed him out. “We’ll figure this out. Dent will be thorough in his examination, also.”

“Right. Well,” he said, “I guess I’m late. Have Mae keep me updated.”

“Of course.”

Hector nodded, then turned and hurried to the elevator. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to Burton or to practice fighting, but he knew that once he got into it, the exercise would help clear his mind. Something wasn’t adding up with Mathews’s situation—many things. In the old days, when he’d been working as the head of House Conti security, he’d often found that taking a step back, viewing evidence from a different angle, could help cut through the noise.

He threw himself into his training, which mostly involved fighting with Burton until the others showed up and then fighting with them, sometimes three or four against one. Burton arranged the matches and set boundaries—no aura abilities and everyone but Hector could go all-out. He had to pull his blows, which was something he would have done anyway; Hector didn’t have any desire to hurt his people.

It was coming up on lunchtime when Mae informed Evie that Mathews had come around, so Hector approached Burton and said, “I have to go check on Mathews.”

“That right? I suppose you’re about worthless by now, anyway. Your system update going to be as bad as yesterday?”

Hector nodded. He’d already explained to Burton that it would be his last update for a while. “Starting to feel it, yeah.”

Kristy jogged over, padding across the mats. “Is it Mathews?” Of course, the entire team had been speculating every chance they got—few and far between with Burton driving the show—about what had happened to the commander.

“She’s waking up, but I want to talk to her alone first,” Hector replied.

“You’re not done, Kristina,” Burton growled. “You and Saskia have an hour of bladework after lunch.”

Kristy looked like she was going to argue, but Hector spoke first. “That’ll be perfect. Just eat, do your lesson with Sass, and by then I’ll be done with Mathews.”

She frowned, then glanced to the far end of the mats where Demon, Sass, and Orin were taking turns practicing throws. “Can we get lunch now, then?”

Burton glanced at Hector, maybe checking to see if he’d object, then said, “Yeah. Tell the boys they’re free until fifteen hundred.”

Hector clapped Kristy on the shoulder and then left. As he walked to the elevator, wiping his brow on his sleeve, he thought about how his opinion of Sparling’s “coach” had changed. Burton was growing on him; he was gruff and said what he thought, but he was damn competent. Hector hadn’t asked him to train the others. He didn’t think Gladia had, either, but the man couldn’t seem to help himself, and Hector wasn’t objecting.

The funny thing is how quick they all are to listen to him—even Orin.

//Well, that’s easily explained; it’s because they’re following your lead. They can see you respect the man.//

“Huh.” Hector punched the button for the medical deck, trying to get his mind focused on Mathews’s situation again. He’d been processing things in the back of his mind while he sparred with the others, and he had a pretty good idea what was going on. The problem was that he didn’t like what his gut was telling him; he wanted to be wrong.

When he stepped off the elevator and started for the infirmary, Gladia’s security guy, Gil, approached from the other direction. He nodded to Hector as he approached. “She’s awake.”

“Yeah?”

Gil rubbed his chin, his fingers making a sound like sandpaper against his stubble. “Not saying much. Says she doesn’t remember anything. I asked about her AI and she said she put it to sleep—told it she wanted privacy.” He looked at Hector expectantly, probably trying to gauge how hard he should push Mathews. Taking her system chip out by force would be a hell of a thing to do to someone, especially when there wasn’t exactly another victim.

“Let me talk to her.” Unfortunately, Gil’s news hadn’t done anything to silence the ominous rumblings in the back of Hector’s mind.

The man nodded, but held up a finger. “There’s more.”

“Yeah?” Hector asked again.

“There wasn’t any unaccounted for DNA—no prints.”

Hector grunted. As his mind drew dark conclusions, he asked, “You got room in your brig?”

“The ship isn’t exactly big. We’ve got two rooms—in case a prisoner is dangerous or violent. Right now, we’ve got one occupant.” He frowned and snapped his fingers. “In fact, I believe we’ve got you to thank for him.”

Hector narrowed his eyes, but then it clicked and he nodded. “The man I almost killed—Balus’s guy.”

“Yeah. Stinson.”

“Well…” Hector hesitated, hating what he was thinking. “Let me talk to Mathews, but send me a lock code for the empty cell.”

Gil looked at Hector, narrowing his eyes. The look said he knew Hector was holding out on him, but it also said he wasn’t going to push things. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Yeah, okay. Just let me know how worried I should be.”

“You don’t need to worry. I’ve got this.” With that, Hector pushed past him and walked to the infirmary. A young woman in medical scrubs sat at the monitoring station. When she looked up, Hector nodded, and continued past.

The infirmary looked a lot like before; Flint was still in his bed, but the tube had been removed from his throat—the mask downgraded to a much smaller affair that only covered his nostrils. Even so, he was breathing deeply, utterly insensate, so Hector walked past him—Mathews was in the last bed near the wall.

When she saw him, she pushed herself up on her pillows and smiled wanly. “Hey…” Her smile faded when she saw his face. After they stared at each other for a few moments, she closed her eyes and said, “Just do it nice and clean. Use that devil-damned wicked blade of yours.”

Hector stepped closer and took her wrist, squeezing. “We’re not there yet.”

Her face was pale, the circles under her eyes like bruises. When she opened them, pooled tears made her green irises blurry. “It’s bad, Hector. I…I hear him sometimes.”

“Him?”

“Sounds like a him in my head, anyway. I…I’ve been getting urges, but I’ve fought them. You gotta know that—give me credit for that. I haven’t done anything yet—only to myself!” She barked a short, rough laugh. “Promise me,” she whispered. “Promise me you won’t let me.”

Hector slid his grip from her wrist to her hand and then cupped it between both of his. “I’ve got you now, Melanie. You’re not going to hurt anyone, and if there’s any damn way to stop whatever is happening to you, then I’m going to find it.”

She blinked her eyes rapidly, clearing her tears, and her pupils split, sliding apart as she stared at him with those strange cybernetic eyes. “I would have done it myself, you know, if I didn’t think—if I didn’t think I had a chance. Something’s not right—with him. He’s frustrated—angry. Also, I can still eat. You know what I mean?”

Hector nodded. The stories all said that a person with an aura fiend inside them couldn’t survive on only food; they had to feed off people. “You haven’t…not at all?”

“No! None! I’ve lost time—I know it had control of me for a while, but Roxy was awake—I lied about that. She…she saw everything I did.” Mathews glanced toward the exit. “J-just don’t let them pull her, Hector. Sometimes I need a friendly voice in my head. You know?”

“Nobody’s pulling shit.” Hector squeezed her hand. “Like I said, Commander—I’ve got you now.”