August has been a bumpy ride! This month feels like an entire summer in four weeks for me! Events have been good, bad, and forced a degree of course correction in my upcoming plans. Good thing I’m durable, adaptive, and determined.
Last month’s car and computer woes continued. The vehicle is finally sorted now, but the issue kept me local for almost all of August. I was able to do Collector Con in Sackville and take part in the last Bern Art Maze Night Market. Both events were awesome. But, I was unable to attend Alderny Landing’s Artisan Market even once. I like that market and the other vendors there a lot. I’m excited to be heading back in September. I’m planning to be there the 8th, 15th, 22nd, and 29th (vehicle willing). While we’re on the subject of markets, I’ll also be at my regular Saturday home at the Bridgewater Farmer’s Market all of September, and also attending their first of two annual Night Markets on September 20th! Should be lots of fun.
My computer finally bit the big one and died. I’ve managed to lifeboat everything into another one, so nothing significant was lost. It was a lot of work though, moving it all, redownloading programs, and getting everything involved with writing and publishing shifted into a new device. I’m still not entirely at home and, as you may have noticed, my social media posting has slowed to a trickle. Between the crash, and ongoing issues with Meta, it might be a while before that changes. I think my phone number may have been the source of the hack that locked me from my Facebook. There have been strange things going on my Instagram as well. Don’t expect much on the posting front for a while. My focus is on finishing projects and all those other problems can wait.
The month wasn’t all bad though! My middle daughter came for a visit and I took a mini-vacation from working for a week to hang out with her. That was super nice.
On the exciting news front, I’m finishing the final edits on Patchworld Nova today and am getting the final stages of the cover design done! It’s entirely possible, and likely, that I’ll have sneaky little pre-release copies for sale at my table before October, for all the folks reading along who don’t want to wait month-by-month to see what happens. While I can’t show you the cover yet, I can assure you my cover guy, Michael Carty, did a wonderful job and it’s pretty freakin’ great. I can give you a peek and reveal the title design though.
All this chaos has forced me to face the reality that I won’t finish and launch Shunt when I’d originally intended. I’m more than 1/3 of the way through the book, and if it was all I focused on, I’d manage it. But there are other things I need to prioritize in the next 9 weeks before Hal-con. There’s some booth changes, new products (book bags anybody?), and promotional stuff that has to happen. Shifting Shunt back is the smart idea. I’ll finish it by December/January and have loads of time to promote it over my 2025 Write-bernation and then come out of the gates in April with a new book. Almost like I did with The Mud Fisher’s Catch, and that’s been going very well.
I’m already into the daydream phase of what comes after Shunt – an actual series made of short, creepy action books that involve spiders. A lot of spiders.
That’s enough of a recap for August! Time to dive back into the serial goodness of Patchworld Nova! Troop and the others finally found a nice place on their journey, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to stay that way! As always, this is draft text, forgive typos and take it for what it is. I hope everyone’s been having a splendid summer! Enjoy it while it lasts. Soon, the spooky season will be upon us. Can’t wait! See you then.
The year before Troop turned thirteen, his mother had sent him to a month long summer camp near Tangier Grand Lake. The area had originally been a wilderness preserve, before the abduction, but that sort of distinction didn’t matter much anymore. Government wasn’t fully back in control back then, and, without the power grid up, people had done whatever they needed to survive. Logging what used to be preserves for building materials and firewood was common. As Nova Scotia struggled to find a sense of normal, without electricity, there had been a boom of businesses focused on teaching survival skills. With everyone working so hard to make due, and the school systems in tatters, youth training camps became a fairly common phenomenon. People, unsure of the future, were drawn to the idea of teaching their kids a basic set of outdoor skills.
The fact that Troops mother, who’d dragged him through a lifetime of rugged living, sent him to a place like that had always bothered Troop. She said it was to help him with socialization, but he knew she’d just started dating someone and it was really just an excuse to be rid of him. She’d gotten married shortly after. The experience had been painfully frustrating to him.
Everything they taught was about team building, cooperation, and working as a group. It all felt like nonsense to Troop. They were given tasks, told how to complete them, and judged on how well they followed the directions. Half of what they wanted the teens to do was bullshit, and Troop knew better ways of going about it than the instructors. Over and over, he completed the tasks alone, quickly, and with better results. All it ever got him was reprimands and people telling him he was wrong, when he could see with his own eyes, that he was right.
Every night, they’d gather for a sharing and feedback time. Nearly a hundred teens and counselors would sit around a fire pit, scattered on an assortment of benches, stumps, and blankets. As the leaders played guitar and guided them in song, they’d take turns going over how the day went for everyone and what could have been done better. Troop found the whole thing nauseating.
Now, as he sat on a chair, surrounded by over a dozen species of alien, each of them seated differently, either propped or standing, he couldn’t help but think of those camp nights.
Same vibe, different crowd.
The discussion wasn’t similar in topic, but, just like in the past, it was infused with a frustrated and impatient feeling for Troop. At least, this time, he wasn’t alone in the sensation.
The dog creature with arms sticking out of its shoulders was named Bouth, and his species were called the Vulh. They were the most vocal of the other travelers, and kept taking control of the discussion.
For everyone at the assembly, there was a Celevere seated nearby. These amicable folk appeared entirely oblivious to the seriousness of the discussion as they allowed the group to talk to one another. They lounged, relaxed, and offered snacks and drinks, oblivious to the doom that was gnawing through their wall. Their presence served only as a mental conduit, connecting everyone, but they offered no opinions of their own.
Troop found their disinterest in their own fate unsettling.
“We predict that there are less than forty-eight hours before they breach the barrier,” Bouth transmitted. “Escape is impossible, as our means of passing through the force-fields requires longer than that to recharge. We have no choice but to fight.”
Troop shook his head. “Our device has no recharge. We can open a way into another patch whenever we want. Right now. Fighting isn’t the only option.”
There was an assortment of noises from the new aliens, surprised by this revelation. They were an odd bunch, but no stranger than their own expedition.
One of them was floating in the air, several feet off the ground, in a bubble of blue liquid. There was some manner of mechanical orb in the center of the water. The creature itself – or perhaps creatures – resembled a school of fish, endlessly circling in their little wet globe.
These Tisacko spoke as one. “With what we’ve learned, it would be best not to fight the Eaters. Victory is unlikely,” they said.
This comment piqued Hyus’ attention. “You know about them? What sort of beings they are?”
A small humanoid, furry with mold with a halo of floating gas-sacks on stems, answered. They spoke slowly, as if they were reading a memorized passage from a book.
“A multi-body organism, connected through biological nanites. They are an opportunistic conversion process, turning all living matter into themselves. They eat. What they eat becomes them. Their forms fluctuate in shape, density, and function. Insatiable. Indiscriminate.”
Bouth, eager to guide the conversation, spoke before the chubby mold-man finished, gesturing with his human-like arms.
“They have different shapes we’ve categorized into types. Some are small, used spread themselves. Others transport things. The dangerous ones, their fighters, are incredibly dense. Very heavy and resistant. The black fog that surrounds them isn’t smoke. It’s a part of their bodies. It tears down and recreates the others at will. We think they might all be one enormous thing, connected by their bio-cloud.”
Callie shook her head, incredulous. “You want to fight that? We need to get these people out of here!”
Troop was surprised when it was Bayfield who responded to her. “Don’t jump the gun. We’re not powerless. We’ve got the combined technology from all of our patches, and don’t forget the Celevere’s aid.”
Minala was sitting in front of Troop, leaning on his legs to facilitate the psychic bond. As the meeting had begun, Bouth had told them about the cat-people’s offer.
Just like they’d provided them with customized beds and seating, food and medicine, they were capable of creating anything that their guests might desire, as long as they were given the specifications.
As peaceful as they were, they had no qualms about creating weapons for their friends.
The idea repulsed Troop. The thought of these innocent caregivers creating the worst weapons of war from an assortment of worlds felt like a violation.
But not everyone saw it that way. Of his group, the soldiers wanted to make a stand. Oddly, the Ancervin who had bonded with them also voiced a desire to stay. Enler and the one that had befriended Callie did not. The fierce little Rovisco and their mechanics were more than willing to enhance their mechs for battle.
Troop assumed Hyus would want to continue on to the Spire, but as he watched him, and his two subordinates, he had the same expression on his face as when he’d been making the difficult decision to trust them.
Of the new species, Bouth and all the Vulh were the most eager for a fight. They were a large group, with almost two dozen of the hound-like beings. They were joined by a handful of insectoid hunters called the Ikatchani who reminded Troop of the inhabitants of Spindle Crag, the Kerbachak. Although, these didn’t look so much like spiders, as scorpions. But the similarities were striking, right down to their clothing. They might have come from different regions of the same planet.
The D’ekah were split down the middle, much like the humans and the Ancervin. These tall, lanky beings, with elephantine feet, long necks, and boneless arms spent most of the meeting arguing among themselves.
At the edge of the gathering sat three large figures. Their broad bodies were smooth, black stone and they looked like simple statues depicting a standard humanoid form. Abstract caricatures of bipedal life, hewn from midnight obsidian. Troop noticed that there were no Celevere sitting near them, as if they were being excluded from the conversation. He leaned in close and spoke to Minala.
“Who are they? Why aren’t they joining us?”
As she answered, Troop noticed that it sounded different. The sound in his mind was more like a whisper, meant only for him. *These ones do not talk, or eat, and our scans reveal nothing. Their thoughts are hidden from us, and our words do not find purchase.*
Troop turned his attention back to the conversation. He realized that Minala had only been sending the words of the people he was focused on. As he’d been thinking about the issue, she’d given him some quiet in his mind. While she’d been doing so, things were quickly devolving into an argument.
“We couldn’t do your plan even if we wanted!” hissed the lead Ikatchani, clacking mandibles. “The Celevere don’t want to leave their home, and you can’t force them out. Even if they did wish to go, there’s no way to organize an evacuation of so many in time. Abandoning them would mean certain death. We must stay and fight!”
Enler waved his arms and chuffed. “You believe to run is impossible for scale, but seek to fight a war with a mere handful. Both exist beyond our reach, neither to be grasped fully.”
The audio speakers on one of the Rovisco mechs squawked. “All we need to do is keep the barrier plugged up. Numbers won’t matter as much if we could hold a single pinch-point.”
Arany, who’d remained quiet for most of the proceeding, projected an image onto their dome, of multiple cracks in the barrier. More than one hole. The message relayed was clear even before his Celevere translated it.
“This plan won’t work forever. Eventually, they will break in additional places.”
This prompted a round of protests, counter suggestions, and the meeting devolved into disorganized sub-conversations, straying off topic. Troop had heard enough. He stood up.
“We don’t need to argue. A unanimous decision isn’t necessary. There’s no reason we can’t do both. The people who want to stay and fight, should do that. I hope that plan works, truly, I do. But, if others want to leave, or try to organize an exodus, they can come with me, because I’m leaving.”
“I have the Knife and will cut a way out. My priority is getting to the Spire. Anyone who wants to join in that goal is welcome. I suggest we stop this nonsense and let everyone focus on their own plans.”
Troop looked at Enler and Callie, at his sides. Both of them stood up, joining him. Arany scurried over as well.
Nobody protested. There was nothing to argue. They’d all come together incidentally. As the grounds of their collaboration shifted, they were free to follow their new goals. Troop could tell that the Bouth and the other Vulh were upset with the decision. Their faces were close enough to dogs for him to read, and they whined a bit, but they didn’t fight it.
As they split, many of the ones from the other expedition joined them. The floating, fish-filled orbs of the Tisacko all came. The moldy folk joined up, and more than half of the tall D’ekah joined.
It was no shock when Bayfield and his soldiers remained, but when none of the Myo-rak got up to join him, Troop was surprised. Despite their intolerance of violence, they’d decided to stay. He thought he’d become good friends with Hyus, and his choice was disappointing. The big guy was reasonable, a deep thinker, and had brought a valuable perspective to the group. Troop had no idea why he’d go with the crew that had committed to fighting. Whatever his reasons, he had a right to them.
Troop was saddened by the loss as he left with a new entourage. Their gentle hosts came along, whiskers twitching as they smiled happily and waved goodbye to the fighters and their kin who attended them.
The offer that the Celevere had made, regarding the fabrication of whatever the expeditions desired, had been interpreted by the fierce Vulh to mean weapons, but that wasn’t the sum of the offer. The Celevere were willing, and eager, to fabricate anything that was needed. This included supplies and transport for a journey. The new coalition of Spire-bound species, set to work immediately on sorting out what gear would be best for them. They worried, at first, that there would be competition with the others who were asking for weapons, but it turned out that there was an abundance of assembly facilities. More than enough fabrication capacity existed for everyone.
The realization, as they were ferried to a nearby floating town, made Troop feel sick. There were many more Celevere than he’d imagined. When he asked Minala what the population of the patch was, she’d been very specific.
*Of course I know how many of us there are! We consider ourselves a family. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t know my own family?*
“So, how big is it?” he’d insisted.
*Today, there are 73,328 of us. But, next week, my far-brother Nevi will melt into time. Soon, in the Misting, though, there will be two new people born! Two! It’s so exciting.* She bobbed and grinned.
His heart sank. Their lifespans were long and children were rare. If he couldn’t talk a large number of them into leaving, the imminent attack would be devastating. He had no doubt that the others could hold the enemy back for a while, but not forever. Sooner or later, the Eaters, the Outbreak, whatever they were, would make it though and destroy this place.
The only Celevere to survive would be the ones who weren’t there when it happened.
As he watched them working on new, upgraded environmental suits, he racked his brain for a way to try and convince them to leave with them. Lost in thought, he didn’t hear Callie approach, and she startled him when she spoke.
“I just want to let you know, Troop, the Iza think we’re doing the right thing leaving. They’re heartbroken, for what might happen, but they know we can’t stay here,” she said.
Troop nodded. “Well, that’s good to hear. They seem pretty clever, those little guys.”
Callie agreed. “They are. They’ve put in their own requests for the Celevere. Modifications to my suit, and other suggestions. Things that will help us.”
It hadn’t occurred to Troop that the Iza would have any requests, but they were as much a part of the team as anyone, even if they were living inside one of his oldest friends.
Callie continued. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, so I wanted to tell you myself. I’m going down to the breach site, where everyone else is. I’m not joining up with them, but the Iza have a few ideas about these Eaters. They want me to get close to the breaching point, so they can study them more clearly. They think their scale will help with understanding their biological nanites.”
Troop wasn’t so sure.
“Callie, that field could burst at any moment. I’m not sure it’s safe. Besides, aren’t the others trying to build some sort of wall over it, to plug it up?”
She looked off in the direction of the construction. They were much too far away to see it, but the cranes and drone swarms had been working since before they left. “I know it’s not safe. But it’s important. I’ll stay out from underfoot. If it looks like there’s going to be a problem, I’ll leave right away. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. That’s when we’re leaving, right?”
It was.
She hugged him goodbye, and Troop couldn’t help but feel the tension in it. The very real possibility of it being the last time they’d see each other.
She broke off the embrace sooner than he would have, and left him to his tasks.
It was Enler who’d had the brilliant idea of getting the Celevere to provide them with a heavily modified version of their flying machines.
“Much trouble and difficulty on the once-trusted stone underfoot. Skies in most patches, unlike those of Ancervin. Calm and still. Like the raft, on water, we used, but better. Above the broken toil,” he’d said.
Troop couldn’t agree more. They spent the remainder of the day working with the others to direct the specifications. The strange mold guys, with their odd spore sack balloons, had particular opinions about how the Celevere could improve their blimp-like transports.
Troop was glad they were there, but he found their species tedious. They spoke slowly and, even after being introduced more than once, the best he could determine their name was “the lingering departure into the wet night of autumn”. Their primary spokesmen called himself “between rocks with a misting and long up the sprouting edge after suns”. Minala did what she could to paraphrase them, but many of their conversations resulted in standing around for three minutes before she’d be able to relay a simple idea. Troop took to doing other things between messages. The moldy people didn’t mind, understanding the differences.
A lot of his time, he spent trying to convince Minala that her people should migrate to an adjacent patch. They had a great relationship with one of their neighboring worlds. They had traded technology, shared folklore, and always gotten along well with the manta-like beings that lived there. The environmental specifications weren’t a perfect match, but it was nothing they couldn’t overcome easily with their capabilities. They knew they would be welcome.
But they did not want to go.
*Leave now? When so many new people have just arrived? And more to come? What kind of hosts would that make us?* she’d argued in the most pleasant of tones.
No amount of warning worked. The Celevere were either unwilling, or incapable, of believing the Eaters would kill them. Or, perhaps, they knew, but were so extremely invested in putting the needs of others before their own, they considered it an acceptable outcome.
If Troop was going to get any of them out of danger, it wasn’t going to be with warnings. He needed another strategy. It was nearly sunset when he finally figured one out. He brought the idea to the others, and they all agreed it was worth a try. It would strain the capabilities of the Knife, but after conferring with Enler, they both believed it would work, if they moved quickly enough.
When Troop made the suggestion to Minala, she was bafflingly accommodating, agreeing to his plan instantly. All the Celevere she told were the same, eager to accommodate the suggestion without question. Within an hour of his presenting the idea, they had begun the preparations for a large number of them to leave with expedition. It wasn’t anything Troop and the others needed to help them with, so he went back to prepping for the trip.
Arany had been having a grand time applying new attachments to their robotic suit. Troop laughed as the gooey spiderling showed off a dozen different leg attachments; flashlight, cutting laser, grappling line, and even a sword. The friendly creature’s enthusiasm, and the potential to save a fair number of Celevere, had Troop feeling better. It was a welcome relief after coming face-to-face with the alien threat.
Up close, the Eaters were terrifying. They lived up to every nightmare their original photo had inspired, and more. It was difficult to conceive of a species who’s entire purpose was the conversion of organic matter. The D’ekah patch had already been destroyed by them. They’d lived adjacent to the Eaters for centuries and never seen more than dusty black desert in their zone. They told Troop, the Eater’s biome was different than the others. It didn’t have a Drip. No food or power was provided to it from the Dyson Platter. The barrier was dark, almost black, and thicker than the others. The other side was a barren, dead place, coated in dark soot. They had always assumed it was empty, awaiting some future inhabitants.
They realized now that they’d been wrong. Very wrong.
It wasn’t the D’ekah that developed the technology to breach the barrier into the Eater’s patch. Another species, in another world that shared a border, that had forced their way in. They did it mere weeks after the Platter had shifted direction and the power shut off. Whoever they were, they must have already had the technology to overcome the force-fields and been been biding their time, waiting for an opportunity to escape. They’d likely believed the Eater’s patch was empty, just like the D’ekah had, and considered it a good test area.
The consequences of their mistake had been as immediate as they were deadly.
The entire desert of black dust rose up in a great maelstrom and surged into their patch through the hole they’d created. Whoever they were, they didn’t even have time to cross the threshold before a storm of soot burst into their world. Like water pouring from one bucket to another, the Eaters took form and swarmed the breach, engulfing everything.
Once they’d rid the place of any life that wasn’t them, they used the biomass they’d accumulated and attacked the walls.
It took them less than a month to crack into another patch. The D’ekah had been desperate, trying to figure out a way to migrate, to put some distance between them and the aggressive Eaters. But their technology wasn’t up to the task. Repeatedly, their attempts failed. When the Eaters turned their attention to one of their force-fields, their survival had seemed unlikely. They’d watched enough of the process in other places to know they had a week, at most, before they were annihilated.
Salvation came when Bouth and the Vuhl had beaten the Eaters through the force-field with their own portal tech. The Vuhl hadn’t even known about the Eaters, or how close they were to destroying the D’ekah patch. They were on their way to the Spire, already far from their own home, passing through the Ikatchani patch.
Seeing what was about to happen, the Vuhl backtracked immediately. The D’ekah begged the fierce scorpion folk for asylum, and had it granted, and the Vuhl kept the door open for them as long as they could. They were only able to evacuate a small percentage of their population before the Eaters cracked the wall. When they did, the Vuhl shut down their opening, cutting off the escape route and trapping most of the D’ekah in with the enemy.
The Vuhl machine wasn’t an efficient method of breaking through. Every time they crossed a barrier it would take days before the mechanical device would recharge enough to repeat the process. The Vuhl gave the the Ikatchani and D’ekah the schematics to build their own versions, and continued on their way to the Spire. Representatives of both species had joined the Vuhl expedition, hoping that it would lead to a solution.
It had been months since then. By now, everyone assumed that the Ikatchani homeworld was gone, just like the D’ekah’s patch was, but nobody knew how many of them might have made it out.
Meeting actual races that had seen their worlds destroyed by the Eaters filled Troop with dread. It had been a long time now, since they’d left Nova Scotia. As near as anyone could tell, there was no rhyme or reason to how the Eaters were choosing their directions. The expansion seemed random, sometimes following a course, sometimes backtracking. What they did know, was that they were only expanding one world at a time. That meant that, for now at least, if they were at the Celevere wall, it wasn’t likely they were clawing their way into his home.
But it didn’t mean they hadn’t already destroyed it.
The thought that Callie, Bayfield with his minions, and himself were the last of humanity on the Dyson Platter made him nauseous. He tried to remember that Earth existed, out there, somewhere, and people in the universe would carry on, even if they didn’t. But he’d never seen Earth. It was an abstract comfort, and it did little to ease his fears. The best he could do was to concentrate on the plan and help as many sentient species as possible along the way.
Minala, an almost constant presence at his side, reached out and took his hand. *You were just smiling, but now you look troubled. Is there anything I can get you?*
Troop wished there were, but he couldn’t think of a single thing they hadn’t already provided. The sun was setting, he’d just taken a break to eat, and everything was on track for leaving. Their route was set, their transport was done and being loaded. He had on a fresh new travel outfit, far superior to the makeshift suit the Province had provided. A warm breeze carried the smell of flowers on the air, and the false sky was streaked with lavender and cobalt colors as night approached. As always, there was the sound of gentle music in the distance.
Their world truly was magnificent. It made him wonder what their home planet was like. Was the entire thing such a paradise? What miraculous set of conditions had guided their evolution into such a glorious result?
He was about to tell her that there weren’t any current needs they hadn’t already satisfied when the world screamed.
The high pitched wail burst into his mind like turning on a stereo full-blast, zero to ten in an instant. He reeled back from Minala, clutching his head, and as he let go of her hand, the sound diminished, but didn’t vanish. Squinting, he looked around to see all the Celevere were in a similar state, holding their heads and curling up in pain. Enler, along with the one of the Tisacko fish spheres, rushed to his side. Enler gestured with urgency.
“A broken hope! The barrier is falling. We must depart now and preparations abandon!”
Troop wasn’t sure his reading of Enler’s words was entirely accurate, but he got the gist of it well enough.
“We have go now. We need the Celevere for that,” he knew his signing was rough, but he didn’t have time. Bracing himself, he reached down and touched Minala’s shoulder. The horrible wail returned to his head, a wince inducing rusty squeal. She turned to look at him, doing her best to smile, but he could see that she was suffering terribly.
*I’m sorry for the noise, Troop. Our new visitors are a bit loud. I hope it’s not bothering you too much.*
Troop wondered if it was the first time she’d ever felt pain. It was possible. There was an uncertain confusion in her watering eyes, beneath her forced pleasant expression.
“We’ve decided to leave early. Right now. Everyone’s ready to go, aren’t they? We can do that?” he asked.
Trembling, she regained her feet. *Yes, of course, we’re all set. But we haven’t finished all of your requests yet.*
Troop shook his head. “That’s okay. You all have done wonderfully. They don’t matter anymore. We’d like to leave now.”
She nodded. *I’ll tell the others. Are you sure you don’t the other things?*
“You’ve given us so much. We have plenty,” he said. She gave him a shaky smile, as her whiskers twitched. “Right now, leaving as fast as we can is what we want the most.”
As she left to get the departure underway, she moved like she was drunk, unsteady from the mental assault.
It was their unfailing desire to please people that had given Troop the idea that got them to agree to an evacuation. They’d never leave on their own account, but when he’d told them the expedition needed doctors and mechanics and chefs and translators, and they couldn’t possibly continue on their trip without the aid of an entire floating town, they’d been all too happy to comply.
The real issue had been if Troop would be able to cut a hole in the barrier big enough, quickly enough, with the Knife, to allow something so large to pass through.
They knew from experience that openings made in the barrier healed over time, closing up behind them. It didn’t appear to be a function of size, and they found that it typically took around half an hour. The actual slices, when they didn’t carve out an area, sealed shut much faster. Enler had calculated the diameter required to fit of one of their smallest floating towns through a hole, and he’d drawn up a sequence of perforations that would create larger, triangular holes, which would last longer. This would allow for several fast cuts to remove the empty majority space between them. If they used their new transport, with a deft pilot and the Knife attached to a steady hand, it was possible. Arany was entrusted with the actual cutting and had an attachment fabricated specifically for that purpose.
With everything they required on their customized ship, the plan was for them to make the hole and the Celevere town to follow behind.
He turned to Enler.
“I’m going to take one of the small vessels and go get Callie. You pilot our ship, and get Arany started on the barrier. I’ll meet you there.” He turned to go without waiting for a response and felt one of Enler’s strong, three fingered hands grab his arm.
“Newborn. No.”
Troop tried to pull his arm free, but Enler held tight. His antlers shook and he glared at his friend. Troop quit trying to break free and stopped. Trusting that he wouldn’t run, Enler let go so he could talk. He signed slowly and deliberately.
“I do not wish to see your death as well. Callie and her tiny inside people are wise. Their flight, already likely. Trust her. Seeking her, you seek a stick in a whirlwind of knives. You will die. Hope over fear in slicing times, Newborn.”
Troop felt the ground begin to move beneath his feet as the floating town began to ascend. He hated it. Everything in him wanted to run and look for her. But Enler was right. Even if the Eaters hadn’t broken through entirely, the area would be a war zone. There was nothing for him to do, no matter how worried for Callie he was. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and patted his friend on the shoulder.
He wanted to say something, to thank him, but the Ancervin gestures wouldn’t come to mind. He had no words. He have Enler a squeeze, hoping it was enough for his old friend.
They rose into the beautiful streaked sky he’d been admiring only moments ago. Together, they went to one of the railings where they could look in the direction of the breach.
The view was terrifying.
What they saw looked like slow-motion footage of volcanic clouds. It almost reminded Troop of bubbles, clusters of dark, foggy black bubbles, piling up and spreading out like foam along the barrier. They’d pop, recede, and then swell up again. It was easiest to see along the edges, where it grew. Inside, it was inscrutably dark, nearly impenetrable to the eyes.
But they saw flashes of light, bursts of yellow, blue, and orange in the gloom. The defenders were still fighting, even as the deadly fog of the Eater bio-nanites raced along the perimeter of the barrier. They could see other airships moving around in the area. Troop’s heart jumped.
Maybe one of them was Callie. Even now, she might be on her way to the spot they’d chosen to cut through the barrier. The relief made him breathe heavy, and his hands shook.
Enler saw the problem before he did.
The Ancervin pulled his notepad and a ruler, and he began taking measurements and doing calculations. Troop looked at his work and frowned.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Enler shook his head, antlers swaying. “Too fast. Along the wall it froths, not coming inward. Too fast. It builds a noose. The cloud will arrive at our intended departure point before Arany deals his dance of cuts.”
He looked from the Eaters to his calculations, switching numbers and flipping pages in his book to the map of Celevere. In all their time and through all the dangers they’d faced, he’d never seen his friend so nervous.
They weren’t going to make it out.
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