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The spooky season is upon us, and there’s so much going on! I’m going to try to keep this update short since there’s a big ol’ chapter of Patchworld Nova stuffed in here as well.

Despite still technically being in pre-release, and I’ve only had physical books for a month, I’ve already sold dozens of copies of Patchworld Nova! The idea has really been resonating with people, and the responses to the book have been fantastic so far. The e-book is distributing wide in pre-release, starting today . The book “officially” launches on November 1st when the e-book goes live. That’s the day I’m looking for a flood of reviews online. So, if you’ve already read it, that’s the day to tell the world what you thought of it. Do it on Amazon, Goodreads, Smashwords, wherever you can leave a review, it’ll be appreciated. If  you’re planning to, but you haven’t got a copy yet, buying it that weekend would also help a ton. https://books2read.com/patchworldnova

While I’m focused on Patchworld Nova’s launch, I’d be remiss if I didn’t also share the Halloween launch of the Don’t Read This Book After Dark Omnibus. All 3 volumes collected into one mega terror with 68 horror stories by 10 different authors. I’m super excited for this one. While I had 4 stories in Volume 3 of the series, I was lucky enough to be able to contribute 2 additional bonus stories to the Omnibus! 

Prepping for Hal-con has been an all-consuming task these days. I feel like I’m getting close to ready, but there’s still so much to do! Here’s all the things I’m organizing so I can sell:

  • Books, obviously books. Both novels in paperback and hardcover, all the collections, the novella and Green Door, Red Door, Mean Door, Dead Door.
  • Story Cards. I’ve currently got 15 different story cards, with one new one out tomorrow and another on the way before the event.
  • Bookmarks. I sold out of all the bookmarks I made earlier this year. I’ve redesigned the four that I had and have added a fifth!
  • Bookbags. I’ve got new bookbags with good ol’ Picklegut Mug on them “advising” everyone to read.
  • Stickers. I wanted a couple new sticker designs, but time is short. I’ve ordered more of what I have so I don’t run out.
  • Adventure Journals. I’ll be bringing along some cool blank journals with exciting covers painted by my talented wife Jill https://www.jillcooperartist.com/
  • Mystery Envelopes. I sold out of the last batch, so I’m making another set and tweaking the mysterious contents within.
  • Prints. I have prints of several of my covers, paired with genre similar stories. Art and a story. What’s not to like?
  • Trash Fantasy. Yep. Sword and sorcery, straight from the trash. You heard right.
  • Ebooks? Maybe. I think I’ve figured out a good way to do this over-the-counter, but it still requires a bit of testing. We shall see how it goes.

It’s all been a 3 ring circus to organize, but I’m getting there. All this prep, and vehicle reliability issues, have kept me close to home and limited my plans for going to markets. I miss my Sunday Alderny Landing Artisan market, and hopefully it’s something I’ll be able to do again after the big event. For November, the best place to find me will be the Bridgewater Farmer’s Market and, obviously, at Hal-con in Halifax from the 8th – the 10th.

It feels like I’m forgetting something, but I think that’s enough. I hope everybody’s having a great fall season, being spooky, playing with gourds, hanging out in graveyards or whatever it is you enjoy. Thanks for the interest and support in all my weird writing!

Time to get back to the serial fiction goodness! Troop has just made a pretty risky decision, abandoning some friends to go look for others. Facing the Patchworld alone is no small feat in Chapter 10: The Wanderer. As always, this is drafty stuff. If you see typos or errors, have mercy. I’m just a lowly human.

Troop wove between the trees,
racing up the hillside. The enormous snake creature that chased him was as nimble as he was, matching pace. It had already come close to catching him twice, striking with twin fangs, curved like cutlasses.

As he crested the ridge, he spun around, dropped to one knee, and raised his rifle to fire wildly.

He knew the creature wasn’t one of the sentient aliens in this patch. He’d seen those earlier, from a distance. Short chubby things in squat little houses. He’d avoided them, trying to cross as quickly as he could, looking to reach the area he’d seen the airship crashing towards. He’d thought that sticking to the deeper forest and avoiding contact would be the fastest route. He hadn’t expected the local wildlife to be so dangerous.

Compared to a lot of the critters Troop had seen since leaving Nova Scotia, the serpent was fairly normal looking. It was massive, twice the length of a car, and had its skeletal system on the outside, with bands of bone ribs that ran like stripes down its sides.. A hard skull covered its head like a helmet. Otherwise, it was green and scaly and moved exactly like Troop expected a snake would.

His previous attempt to shoot it hadn’t damaged the thing. He’d become a decent shot, but the animal was hard to target, slithering left and right with fluid motions. The few times he’d hit it were reflected off the hard exoskeleton. Desperate to get a lead on it, he fired low, back and forth, near the ground. The assault didn’t hurt it directly, but it disturbed the soft earth, and the pelting shoved it away. The beast slid backwards down the incline on a cascade of dislodged dirt and fallen leaves.

It wasn’t much of a head start, but it was all he would get. Out of bullets, Troop dropped the useless rifle and drew the Knife. It wasn’t meant to cut living things, but it was better than nothing. He sprinted down the backside of the hill, careening through the trees in long, unbalanced strides. His heart was pounding, and he was out of breath, but the barrier wasn’t far now. The sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs pursued him.

It was going to be close.

He didn’t bother looking back when he reached the wall of magenta energy. Like a samurai, he sliced horizontally twice, curving up with the first strike and down the with second. The opening was small, but he needed it to be. Too large, and the thing would follow him right through.

A hiss at his back warned Troop that he was out of time. Spinning, he managed to see the snake as it ached its neck, preparing to strike. He dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the fangs. The armored head crashed against the barrier. It recovered, coiled around, and rushed him. Troop swung the Knife and struck it in the face, pushing it off target. The weapon didn’t harm it, and the serpent’s momentum drove its head past him. Troop leapt over its trunk-like body.

Shrugging his shoulders, he dropped his pack. There was no way to get though the hole while wearing it.

As the snake turned for another attack, he tossed the knife ahead, grabbed the upper lip of the force field, and jumped into the breach feet first, like he was hopping through a car door window. In the last moment, as he passed through, he felt the snake’s forked tongue on the back of his neck.

It hissed and thrashed at the hole, trying to jam its head into the gap, but it couldn’t manage it. Troop sighed, looking at his discarded pack through the colored wall, shoved away by the lashing serpent. It was well out of reach, not that he could grab it while the beast remained in the way. Was it worth waiting for? There was no way of knowing how long the snake would stick around. His goal was speed. There was no telling what state the airship had landed in. Callie could need help, or might have left it behind already. It had been two days since they’d all jumped the fields. If they were gone, their head start on him was significant.

Troop looked around the patch he’d just arrived in. It appeared safe enough. The ground was covered in a frilly blue vegetation. There were tall plateaus and steep valleys, all draped in the deep blue lichens on their tops, with bare orange stone on their sides. These layers were stepped, and it didn’t look like he’d have much difficulty traveling. Once he got to a higher vantage, he’d be able to make a better assessment.

He decided that the pack wasn’t worth the wait. If there were plants here, there was probably water. The air was warm, the sky was clear, and he had no trouble breathing. Besides, when he found the airship, he was sure there’d be more supplies to scavenge.

He set out for the highest summit he could see.

There was no sun in the false sky, only a mottled sheet of dull pink clouds to provide an even, source-less glow. It was difficult to tell how long Troop walked. At first, it felt good, without the additional weight of the gear and rifle. But time took away any relief he initially felt. As hours passed, there was no onset of darkness to mark the day.

Mesa by mesa, he clambered. By the time he reached his goal, his legs were sore. The plateau top of his destination was wide, and it took him a good while to cross. When he finally managed it, his long effort was rewarded.

There, in the distance, was a black smudge; the leftover scouring of a fire. This trailed over an edge, out of sight, but he didn’t need to see the actual airship to know this was where it had gone down. The sight filled him with equal measures of fear and hope. He made better time on the downhills, and anticipation drove any exhaustion from his mind. It may not have been less time, but it felt like it.

The airship was smashed into chunks, a dozen large fragments amid a burnt swath of smaller debris. These were scattered around, but were still connected to the deflated balloon by cables. A section of tarp had been ripped away, folded into a rectangle, and placed near the crash. Troop saw the unmistakable outline of bodies lined up in a row beneath the makeshift sheet.

At the sight of it, he broke into a run. Bodies, covered and organized, meant there had been survivors. They’d already left, but there was only one way to confirm that Callie might be among them. Prepared for the worst, he kicked away the scraps holding the sheet down, and pulled the covering away, running with it reveal them as he passed. When they were clear, he dropped it and looked back, scanning the row. Walking the length he surveyed the carnage.

The remains were mostly Vult and Celevere. Troop wasn’t sure, since the injuries were severe, but he thought one of the dog-like bodies was Bouth. There were a trio of D’ekah, one of the Myo-rak, and, at the end of the row, Sargent Bayfield.

The sight of him, the last body, filled Troop with a swirl of feelings. While he’d never liked the man’s military mindset, the Sargent had saved his life more than once, and they’d shared the journey together. It was a difficult thing to see him dead. There were black stains, like blast marks, on his environmental suit, and several slashes. It was hard to tell what wound had actually killed him. Whatever fight they’d had with the Eaters hadn’t left him unscathed. All of the bodies were similarly injured.

With a heavy sigh, Troop replaced the blanket. Despite the grizzly discovery, and the hurt feelings at seeing the Sargent, the knot in his stomach relaxed.

Callie wasn’t there.

He was confident that she’d been on the crashed ship. She had to be. How else would they have thought to jump the wall or sorted the math? Now that he knew she hadn’t died in the impact, that there were other survivors, it was just a matter of finding her.

As he let go of the fear that she’d been lost entirely, the exhaustion he’d been holding at bay swooped in. He would go after her, but he needed to rest first.

He used the Knife to cut himself a blanket from the ripped sails, found himself a concealed nook in the wreckage, and went to sleep with the dead.

_______________

Troop didn’t have any difficulty following the trail the survivors had taken. The blue vegetation was delicate, and their steps left enough of a mark to lead him where he needed to go. It was a stroke of luck, balanced out by misfortune. Any scavenging he’d hoped to do at the airship had already been done. There was no food or water to be had. Despite his earlier confidence, he’d found no sources of liquid anywhere in this patch.

He was dizzy with thirst, his stomach in a constant ache, when he reached the spot where the path intersected the next barrier. It was milky blue color, but along the bottom, there was a circle where the color had tinted, blending into white. He knew that the machine the Vulk used to cross the barrier wasn’t like the knife. Instead of cutting through, it was more of a softening, until it melted away, slowly healing in layers.

He touched it and felt resistance. But it was less than normal though, and when he pushed on it, there was some flex to it. The Knife had a much easier time than usual slicing through, thinner as it was.

The other side was a mechanical wasteland.

There wasn’t a single sign of life. The stone ground was laced through with veins of circuitry, and geometric buildings littered the landscape. These were covered in pipes, panels, and machines of every description. Some spun and spat steam into the air while pistons rose and fell, giving the entire thing the impression that it was breathing. It was all comprised of a dark, blue-black metal, layered into harsh concrete and highlighted by lighter bits of pale aluminum.

The sky above was milky white, with black dots of stars, as if it were a photographic negative. Off to his right, the enormous void of an ebony sun crouched fat on the horizon.

Troop licked his dry lips and cursed.

Taking his best guess as to which direction the others would have gone, he kept going. There was a pyramid-like building, with low sloping angles, directly ahead through a canyon of factories. From there, he’d get a good view. It was the perfect spot for anyone to see where to go. In a half daze, he trudged toward it.

His legs developed a near-constant tremble, and on more than one occasion he stumbled, almost falling over. His breath was ragged and hot, puffing small clouds into the cooler air. They annoyed him. Each tiny puff was moisture leaving his body. A barely significant amount, sure, but he didn’t have any to spare. They were like a countdown, reminding him that he was running out of liquid. If he didn’t make it across soon, there wouldn’t be any breath left.

Darkness bled into the edges of his vision. Troop slapped his face, pushing it away, and stumbled ahead. The ground was uphill now. Somehow, he’d made it to the pyramid. His fuzzy brain was glad for it. The sharp bits of logic he had left weren’t as excited. If it took this much to get here, how would he have energy to leave?

All he could hope was that he caught up to the others. They’d taken the food. The water. They’d save him.

If he caught up.

Despite is intentions, he realized that he didn’t make a very good rescue party.

The next hours were a blur. Troop didn’t remember falling, but he pulled himself from the ground more than once. He had no idea how long it took The enormous black sun didn’t rise or set in the sky, but circled on the horizon, like a shark. When he finally got to the top of the pyramid, it was directly ahead of him, a full ninety degrees from where it had originally been. Was that a day? Two? There was no way of telling.

On the top of the structure was a large rectangular pool of glowing blue water.

The vision was like a spike in Troop’s mind, shoving a moment of clarity into his addled and exhausted senses. With all the energy he had left, he stumbled for it. Without slowing, he fell to the edge and plunged his head into the liquid.

It was water. Filtered pure, clean, and icy cold. He slurped at it desperately, filling his empty stomach with the frigid liquid. He hadn’t yet drunk his fill when he heard a voice at his side.

“Please, remove your organics from our coolant system.”

Troop pulled his head out and wiped his face, rolling on to his side to look at the speaker.

It was robotic, humanoid, and draped in a thin mono-filament cloak. The limbs were spindly, laced with wire muscles and tubing. Its face was a black dot, reminiscent of the never-setting sun, with a cluster of speakers and tiny antenna beneath it, like a beard of sensors.

Seeing his compliance, the being nodded.

“Thank you. I will assist. You may have coolant, but I would prefer if you allow me to provide it, as the purity of the liquid is essential to our system.”

Troop scurried back, regaining his feet. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know.”

The robot took its cloak in hand and traced their finger along the hem. The portion fell off. Deftly, it shaped the near transparent fabric into a cup. Tapping the side, it hardened. “Apologies are unnecessary. You could not have known. Your brief contamination period was within acceptable parameters.” Crouching, it scooped a cupful and passed it over to Troop.

“Thanks,” he said. After draining the glass, he passed it back. The robot scooped him another. He was feeling better, by a slight margin. Hunger still gnawed his ribs, and he was tired, but the feeling that he was on the edge of passing out receded with the hydration. Three more times, the being filled his glass without complaint. When Troop had enough, he sat down. The robot sat down next to him, mimicking his position and posture.

Troop had an idea how the thing already knew his language. “I’m not the first person you’ve seen come through here, am I?” he asked.

It nodded. “An accurate observation. You are the third organic visitor we’ve had.”

“You’ve seen another human? Was there a woman with them?”

“There was another being that matches most of your biological systems. But they were 17% smaller, had several different organs than you, and were symbiotically paired with another species. Is this what you mean by human?” it asked.

Troop couldn’t help but grin. “Absolutely. Yes. I’m looking for her.”

“She is gone, with the others. Pursued by the organics of the second incursion.”

Troop didn’t like the sound of that. “Second incursion?”

The robot pointed, off toward the sun. “Yes, from that direction. When the first incursion came, we were confused, and accidentally interrupted the functioning of several of the organic systems as they tainted our coolant pool. Once they stopped, the largest of the entities attempted rudimentary communication. Recognizing their sentience, we ceased our purge and were able to dialogue. They forgave us our ignorant actions. We provided coolant. I wanted them to stay. I’ve seen organic systems through the walls, but never interacted directly. I had no idea they were capable of higher cognition. They were willing, at first, but when the second incursion happened, they left without warning. I was…” the robot paused.

“Disappointed.”

The hair on the back of Troop’s neck went up. Second species? He hadn’t seen any sign of them, but had the Eaters breached this patch? If they had, he needed to get out as soon as possible.

“This second incursion. Who were they?”

“Representatives, like me, but they do not speak. They coated everything . Took away the inactive organic systems I’d intended to study and scoured our habitat, looking for more. When they’d finished, they pushed a hole through to another, leaving behind only the black road,” he said.

“The black road?”

The robot stood, offering a hand to help Troop up. “Come. You can see it from here.”

Hesitant, Troop took its hand and followed the robot to the edge of the pyramid. From their vantage, he had an excellent view of the patch. A familiar black hue cut a meandering gash across the landscape. It was lumpy and rounded on the edges, fat with the rolls of near-solid smoke Troop had seen before. The area around it was hazy with a sooty fog. There were dark shapes moving in the gloom of the road, as if it were a highway.

His first instinct was to run, but he was far too tired for that. As he watched, he realized that it appeared contained. They weren’t spreading out, looking for more organic material anymore. They’d already taken what was here. They’d eaten their fill, leaving nothing behind. Now it was just a route to the next meal.

“They don’t bother you?”

The robot shook his head, no. It was strange, seeing such a human gesture considering its short amount of contact. It’s intellect was impressive.

“No. It has no interest beyond the conversion of cellular material. All attempts at communication have failed. The being controlling it is not present in its representation, as we are.”

It was the second time the robot had used the phrase. “What do you mean, representation?”

The robot pointed. “They are not here, as I am not here, in this body. I am elsewhere, within what you would call machinery. This tower is a cooling station for a tiny portion of me. My consciousness is projected, through this device, to talk to you.”

It was a simple enough concept for Troop to grasp. Somewhere, some massive thinking computer was using a tiny robot as a phone. He wasn’t clear on the distinction the robot was making about the Eater’s though.

“Okay, I understand. This body I’m talking to is a communication device. But those, down there, aren’t the same. They’re more like remote control? Something being driven, but not actually intelligent or aware?”

The robot wiggled his fingers. “They are like your hand. It makes no decisions for itself, cannot speak or be spoken to, and acts according to the information provided by your mind and senses.”

It was an interesting revelation. Troop’s understanding of the Eaters shifted as he looked down at the black road. What he’d seen of them were just parts; the grabbing hands, the greedy mouth, and the swallowing throat. This road, wasn’t the part that scooped and chewed. It was the muscles, sending troops to the front. It was the esophagus, carrying organics back. But back to where?

“Do you know where it leads?” asked Troop.

“For a bit, yes. But as to its ultimate destination? No. I presume its original habitat. Only there would you find the mind that guides.”

It was fascinating stuff, but Troop didn’t have time for the academics of it. Directly conscious or not, that thing was what was after Callie and, judging by the description of the translator, Hyus as well. He’d said they fled when it arrived. Troop needed to know where, so he could follow.

“You said the others left. Can you show me where?”

The black dot of a face didn’t convey any emotion, but Troop almost felt like the robot was apologetic as he answered. “As I said, they ran, and the others followed.”

He pointed to where the black road cracked a hole in the barrier, passing through.

How many times could they have escaped? They’d been on foot this time. No airship to speed them along. All the hope Troop had been accumulating – finding the airship, her body not being among the dead, and the robot’s confirmation she was alive – melted away. Troop’s shoulders slumped, and he sunk to his knees.

It was over. He had to abandon it. There was no following them onto that road. The Eater’s weren’t racing over to kill him right now, but only because they were confident they’d already purged the patch. He had no doubt that the moment he came close to that organic fog, they’d pounce. All he could do now was to get away without being seen and resume his trip to the Spire. He’d have been better off staying with Enler, Minala, and the others in the caravan. They were probably already at the mysterious tower, working to solve real problems, not off chasing some fool’s dead end.

The robot sat down next to him, cross-legged. “You wish to pursue them?”

Troop shrugged hopelessly. “I can’t. Those things will destroy me.”

“Not if they don’t see you,” said the representative robot.

“How could they not see me? They’re made of living fog. They permeate everything.”

The robot reached up and clicked the buckle on his translucent cloak. “Not everything.”

Swinging it over his shoulder, he passed it to Troop. “The dial on the latch will cause this to encase you. The micromesh is permeable and organic resistant. You can breath through it, but no trace of your organics will escape. No biological matter can enter. Not while its power supply lasts.”

Troop took it, barely feeling anything more than a slippery silken texture in his hand. “How long is that?”

“As long as it took you to walk to the pyramid, approximately. Be warned, it creates a solid seal. You will not be able to eat or drink while it is engaged. Your body secretions will be trapped within.”

Troop stood, draping the thin clothing across his shoulders. “Got it. Drink a lot now, pee first, and hold it once I turn this on.”

“As you say.”

Troop looked down at the robot, strange representative of some alien computer. “Why are you doing this? Helping me?”

It didn’t answer right away, thinking about the question. When it did, it got to its feet and put a hand on Troop’s shoulder before speaking.

“We do not know why we were removed from our collective and placed within this isolated conglomeration of beings. But we can assume, by our very inclusion, that we share a common self-awareness with the other inhabitants, as different as we all are. We were alone on our planet. We find this place to be an improvement. The variety is…” Again, the robot paused, looking for the right word.

“Astounding.”

He gave Troop a little pat on the shoulder. “Please, do not die, as we have just met.”

Troop smiled. Loneliness was as good a reason as any to make friends.

“I’ll do my best.”

_______________

While the water helped the immediate symptoms, Troop was still dehydrated and hungry. The Representative gave him a fabricated bottle to take with him, in case there was no water when he was finally able to unseal the cloak. But he couldn’t sip from it until he was safe.

Troop had his doubts about the plan.

He stood a few kilometers off from the dark miasma of the black road, building up his courage. The pressure of time held him firmly in its grip. Time to find his friends. Time before the cloak lost power. Time before he starved. Time before this dark, yearning menace devoured his home.

It was the last one that forced his hand to his collar, flipping the dial that encased him in monofilament fibers. The thought of his world, stripped of life, was a terrifying incentive. He knew Nova Scotia had only been a bit of the Earth, but it was all he’d ever known. He could hardly imagine what the Eaters could do to it. Rocky rubble where trees and forests had been. Muddy streams without reeds or lily-pads. Beaches without seaweed, crab shells, or gull feathers washed up on the sand. A dead ocean, lacking fish and lobster alike. No grass in the valley. No hemlock on the hills.

Driven by fear, he strode into the nightmare of the Eaters.

He half expected to die the moment he stepped into the haze, but the robot’s gift was good. Dust swirled around his feet in tendrils, exploring his legs, caressing his shins. That was all it did though, settling back into a think layer of black grit as he passed. Everything grew dark, dim, and infused with shadow.

He was engulfed in thick, cloying smoke. Unbidden, he wondered if this thick smoke had been what Carlos, Amanda and the others had felt, back at Nelson Wynder grade school, when the batteries had blown. After he’d thrown the switch that killed his friends. The people who’d trusted him. All so he could try to escape.

He shook his head, pushing the idea away. Of course this wasn’t the same. There was no fire. He wasn’t burning alive. It was disrespectful to even compare the two. He squinted, doing his best to see, and focused on his task. The road was dark enough without adding his own grim memories.

Troop stopped when he saw his first Eater.

It was a bloated thing, not the kind he’d seen through the wall in Celevere or in the photo his mother had shown him. The shape was similar, vaguely ape-like with wide shoulders, shorter legs, and a bent head. But where the others had been upright, muscular, and fierce looking, this being was hunched over. It’s belly was distended, making up almost all of its mass. It dragged this dark sack of flesh slowly, clawing along the ground with spindle arms and legs. Remembering Bouth’s words, he realized this must be one of the harvester types. The kind that expanded, thinning their density to engulf bio-matter and pull it into themselves.

The belly it dragged was full of stolen life.

Troop knew it was probably plant matter, since that’s what the majority of living things were in most of the patches they’d been through. But he couldn’t help wonder if it were something else. Fish from the sea. Animals ripped from their habitats.

People, taken from their homes.

A sudden fury came over Troop. Without thinking, he drew the Knife and marched over to the thing. With a vicious slash he cut it open, causing the contents to spill out into the dark dust. A thick tangle of vegetation tumbled out in wet clumps, like a ruptured lawnmower bag. There was the sound of heavy footfalls, emerging from the gloom, and Troop regretted his actions immediately.

Three Eaters, the kind he’d seen before, barreled over to the injured carrier. Troop froze, as the massive warriors approached. They were taller than him, and heavy. Their arms were muscular, thick, and looked as hard as cast iron. They made crunching sounds as their weight compressed the dust on the ground. Two of them looked around with glowing eyes, while the third inspected the wound Troop had inflicted.

Raising its arm, the fog accumulated around it. This mist added to and extended its forearm as the fingers melted away. Seconds later, it had a long, black blade instead of a hand. It drove this into the head of the wounded Eater. Troop watched, captivated, as the pitiable thing melted back into dust, becoming the very smoke that surrounded them, leaving only a pile of mashed plant clippings behind.

A skinny, emaciated Eater crept from down the road, joining the others. It stood over the heap, hands on its hips, and thrust its stomach forward.

In the same way the fierce Eater had created a sword by manipulating the fog, the carrier did the same. Layers of dust accumulated on the plants, thickening and smoothing out, to connect with its torso. Minutes later, it had engulfed it all and began dragging it back down the road. The warriors left.

Troop stood watching it go, amazed. It was horrifying and fascinating, and if he hadn’t just seen it happen, he didn’t know he’d believe it. It was clear from the demonstration, that they did not act as individuals. Killing Eaters one at a time was a futile task.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. As often as they needed, in whatever forms they required.

Troop continued on down the road, alternating his thoughts between concern for his friends and wondering about the insatiable intelligence that guided the Eaters. He was thirsty again, by the time he reached the misshapen hole the dark beings had made into the next patch. Strange curves of muscle and tendon, like some strange wrought-iron gate, held the arch open. The fog drifted into it constantly, being sucked into the frame as it replenished itself to hold the force-field at bay.

There was more activity here. Warrior types marched through the gate, headed for the next wall. Slower, heavily burdened carriers, emerged from it, dragging their swollen burdens behind.

With swirl of activity, it was impossible to see through the haze. He bumped into Eaters blindly as he passed through. None of them paid him any attention. He could tell by the softness or stiffness which ones were which. It was awful, moving through the crowd, filling Troop with a panicked swirl of fear and revulsion. As soon as he made it through, he left the road, looking to get out of the smog.

The ground in the new patch was loose with boulders and stones. He clambered over these until he emerged from the bio-nanite body of the Eaters. As they had in the robot’s realm, they’d stripped this one clean, and all that remained of them was a dark gash of road, leading on to the next conquest. Troop had no idea what the patch might have looked like before they’d razed it. All that was left were heaps of boulders beneath a minty sky, piled randomly, as far as he could see.

Callie and the others had gotten here first, before the Eaters had broken into the lifeless land of the computer intelligence. Troop had to ignore the missing life, and the black road of Eaters, and do his best to guess where they might have gone.

Following his tried and true method, he set out for the highest mound. It was what they would have done, and would put some distance between him and the dark road. Once he was far enough, he could risk turning off his cloak and get a drink. He’d gorged himself before he left, but it had been nearly a day since then. He desperately needed more. He’d also been trapping all his sweat inside the shielding cloak and been forced to relieve himself several times. His shoes were filled with rancid liquid that made walking difficult. The sooner he drained them, the better.

The first hill offered nothing but a view of two taller mounds that had been hidden behind it. From his vantage looking back, Troop didn’t like how close he was to the dark highway. He kept going, bouldering up in a combination of jumping and crawling. Again, what he thought was the top of the hill was just a wide ledge, continuing upwards.

Three times this happened, until Troop finally reached the summit. The Eaters were a barely visible, thin line far below. He turned off the cloak and took a drink. He intended to only drink half his water, to ration it, but when it hit his lips, he couldn’t control himself and he drained the bottle. Flopping to the ground, he unlaced his boots, jerked them off, and peeled away his foul socks. His feet were red and blistered.

He stretched out on the stone, staring up at thin wisps of cloud in the sage-hued sky. Just to be safe, he twisted the dial on the cloak, reapplying it.

Moments later, he was asleep.

_______________

There was a slight tingle as the cloak ran out of energy. It was enough to startle Troop into wakefulness. He sat up, worried that he was unprotected and the Eaters were so close.

The sun had set and the sky was dark and starless. There were no moons or light coming from the sky. The only illumination he saw was the distant glow of the barrier he’d passed through earlier. Looking down, back the way he’d come, was an inscrutable abyss. There was no way of telling if the Eaters remained on their road or if they were branching out. He knew it was unlikely that they would do so, but it still made him uncomfortable, not being able to see the danger he knew was there.

Carefully, he navigated the stones by feel, moving to the other side of the ridge. It was the same on this side, with the only light coming from another barrier. The bright pink wall was surprisingly close, leading Troop to believe he’d broken into a corner, or perhaps a narrow in the patch. It was good news. If the others had seen this, they wouldn’t have had far to go to escape. Assuming, of course, this place hadn’t been full of giant thorn bushes, aggressive occupants, or any number of dangers the Eaters had already consumed. The naked stones he crossed weren’t what they’d passed through.

Looking down, wondering about the best way to descend without breaking a leg in the dark, Troop noticed a tiny patch of pale coloration in the barrier below, a white spot. Squinting, he could see something reflecting near it, like shiny metal or glass. It had to be the Vulk breaching device! They could be there, right on the other side of the wall!

Troop tied the laces of his stinking shoes together and hung them from his belt. Barefoot, he scrambled down the hill in the dark, feeling the way with his toes. The rocks were rounded, and even with the blisters, it felt better on his feet after a day in soggy boots. The tactile sensation, and the fear of stubbed toes, kept him cautious when he otherwise would have wanted to rush. Despite the dark, he made fairly good time.

His suspicions were confirmed when he arrived. He hadn’t seen the machine before, but this had to be it. It was low, built in such a manner as to serve the shape of the dog-like Vulk. The size of a small cart, it was still working on powering up, but hadn’t accumulated another charge yet. The thing was useless until it did. For whatever reason, they hadn’t managed to bring it through with them. That meant they were trapped in the next patch, with no way through the force-fields.

He pressed his face up to it, trying to see what the other side contained. It was no good. The other side was equally dark. Whatever it was didn’t matter. He’d find them. He pulled his shoes on, drew the knife, and cut his way in.

He was met with cold rain and tiny pelting hail. There was a crackling sound as the ice fragments fell through a canopy of dense, needle-leaf, trees. It was dark, but not night. It was the heavy gloom of a storm in the forest. After three days, the mere sight of plants, strange as they were, made Troop smile.

An obvious route had been hacked through the dense foliage. It curved and twisted, following the path of least resistance until it came to a cliff-side of slick brown stone. There, it turned left, moving along with it until intersecting with a narrow ravine. Barely able to contain his excitement, Troop trotted through the twists and turns.

He saw a flickering orange glow on the rock ahead, and, as he made a final turn, came into a sheltered overhang where there was a blazing campfire.

Hyus and Callie were there, rifles raised at the sound of his approach.

He’d never been happier to have a gun pointed at him.

Callie!”

She lowered her weapon and rushed over to him. “Oh my god, Troop!”

As he hugged her, he felt a tight knot he hadn’t even been aware of dissipate in his chest. Hyus came over and patted him on the shoulder with one of his large, paw hands.

It is good to see you, friend. Even in such a miserable place.”

Troop nodded, turning to Hyus and keeping an arm around Callie. With his free hand, he patted the Knife on his belt. “Well, we won’t have to stay here for long.”

Tilting her head in concern, Callie looked over at him. “Is it just you? Where are the others?”

They’re fine. Most of them. I left Enler, Minala, and everyone else with a caravan, headed for the Spire. Someone cleared the way, broke through the walls permanently. They should be there by now.” He looked around the meager camp, seeing that it was only the pair of them. “And you? Are you all that’s left? I saw what happened to Bayfield.”

Hyus walked back over to the fire and hunched in front of it. Troop and Callie, holding hands, joined him.

We are not alone here. A few of the Vulk, and a D’ekah are around somewhere. We parted company. We’ve been with them since the crash, but it hasn’t been easy. When we had to leave the field disruptor behind, and they blamed us for getting trapped here. We’ve parted company.”

As they sat, Troop took a better look at his friends. He realized that Hyus’ hand was wrapped from the elbow down, the fabric stained with a dark liquid. Callie had a large chunk of her hair missing and an angry looking burn on the side of her head. Looking closer, he noticed that there was a network of thin circuitry growing out of her ear, extending up to the wound and down her neck, filling her old scars.

He flinched in alarm. “Callie! What the hell is going on with your ear?”

She smiled. “Oh, this? That’s the Iza. They’ve been busy, building. It’s okay, Troop. They’re helping with my burn, numbing the pain and rebuilding the tissue.”

The look of it made Troop nervous. “Be careful. Don’t let them take over too much.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry. They’re good house guests.”

They talked through the night, sharing the details of their time apart, and slept curled up beneath Hyus’ thick, warm arms.

In the morning, they set out across the patch. It took the whole day, but by sunset, they reached the final force-field.

Unlike all the others, this one had no color. It was bright white, opaque, and didn’t allow them to see through it at all. But they knew what was on the other side. Finally, after all this time. They’d reached their goal.

The Spire.

Troop drew the Knife and cut their way through.

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