The atmosphere outside the Observer was thick enough to touch.
Emma stood at the airlock, her gaze fixed on the golden-crimson swirls that pushed insistently upon the ship's surface. WoodDust, Emma deduced, her Aetherweave senses heightened. This was not the carefully harnessed and controlled energy she was accustomed to working with during routine missions, but raw, elemental force existing in concentrations which defied all known physical laws. The patterns of its movement, visible now to her senses, reminded her of weather patterns, though this energy was comprised solely of concentrated force, not atmospheric matter.
And well, besides the noticeable WoodDust currents, Emma also noticed something else. The ominous feeling of being observed, which, of course, Emma is trying to prepare her crew members from now on.
It felt like they're exposed in ways she couldn't properly define.
"Atmospheric analysis complete," Auren declared through her Questmind interface, his voice filled with an air of concern that Emma picked up on. "The WoodDust levels outside are roughly four hundred times what we'd consider normal operating parameters. Prolonged exposure would cause cellular collapse in mere seconds for unupgraded humans. Even with your Aetherweave modifications, extended exposure could prove dangerous."
Emma could feel the weight of this diagnosis resting on her thoughts like a heavy blanket.
They'd landed in one of the most hostile spots on the entire Cosmic Arbor, and now it was up to her to get her crew out of it. This was more than just dangerous, more than merely going into combat or traversing tough ground. This was an environment that was itself hostile to life on a fundamental level.
It was already hours since the violent crash landing that had thrown all of them against their restraints, she reflected on their predicament. Several hours of repairing by emergency, of sealing breached holes in their ship's hull that could compromise their atmospheric integrity, of establishing that it was safe enough to make an outward reconnaissance probe without promptly dying. And through all of it, one fact of their predicament had become increasingly plain with each ship's system checklist. They found themselves stranded within the Hyper Universe, forced into this track by individuals operating on levels of conceptual trickery that herself hardly fully understood.
The problem was, Emma was able to understand rationally how their predicament was the result of various converging variables. The grief of losing Marcus still shadowed them, an ever-present payload they had not fully come to terms with. The sabotage of unknown foes, who had managed their coordinates. The ideological disputes among Lucas or Aisha that continued escalating by the minute. Now, they had to step outside into a world where within minutes of exposure, they could be milking cows.
Their strategy will thus be dictated by Emma's impression of what they immediately need to survive. This will mean avoiding the possibility of staying on board the Observer FOREVER, as there was no guarantee of what awaited them on a hostile environment that sometimes could not be explored remotely. Therefore, it was important that this period of exploring occurred in this hostile world for those individuals.
However, they could do nothing else but recognize the enormous risks they would be taking by leaving the safety of the ship.
"Final equipment check," Emma ordered as she turned to address her crew now in the airlock. "Lucas, Aisha, Chloe, with me on the reconnaissance. Gray will stay on board to run the ship's functions and provide tactical backup from a safe location."
She carefully observed each of them in succession, taking in not only their readiness level for HE stimuli, but also their psychological state.
There by the equipment lockers was Lucas. His severed servo-arm dangled uselessly from his side. Still non-functional from the complete destruction of the remaining nerve pathways by the force of the jump through the portal jump, its limp motionless tip dragging on the deck. However, his other hand kept twitching restlessly with pent-up nervous energy, golden Kineticvance residue fluttering instinctively from his waving fingers in reaction to the cloying WoodDust concentrations bearing down on the ship from all sides. His face was a mixture of anticipation and hunger, as if he was itching to go on an embrace of this wild energy itself.
It seemed as though he was looking forward to it, Emma couldn't tell if it was healthy or fixation, though he continued to stare at the viewport. Obviously, he was attracted to the chaos in a way that worried her. Latched on to this was the assembly of equipment he had already set up.
Emma moved her attention away from Lucas, looking at Aisha who stood near the environmental suits. It's been difficult watching her withdraw. Emma thought inwardly.
Aisha was the complete opposite of Lucas in her preparations. Every motion was measured, controlled, strictly methodical as she checked her gear. However, Emma could see the guilt in her body language, the avoidance of eye contact with the rest of the crew, the tension invested in her shoulders and neck. The guilt of blame was hers, Emma realized. She was taking the blame for the error of the jump on herself. For her logic and her procedures not catching the sabotage earlier.
The effect of this was found to be alarming in terms of cohesion and effectiveness.
However, Chloe was physically there in the airlock but mentally not there. Emma could see her going through her equipment checklist with military precision, her hands moving mechanically, while her eyes seemed fixed upon something Emma couldn't focus on. Also, the flashback of the violence of the crash had forced the memory of her death of Marcus too near into her awareness, and it still was not emotionally healed from the experience. Several hours had slid by.
This is the team I'm leading into hostile territory, Emma thought with grim acceptance of their own position. Broken by unresolved grief, psychologically weakened by cumulative stress, their physical and emotional bruises are still fresh. However, we don't have options on this particular route.
One's strength is also one's weakness, she reflected while observing her damaged crew. Their ability to keep functioning under extreme stress was both their greatest asset for survival and a potential catastrophic liability because it meant they never stopped to actually process the trauma they'd accumulated.
"Just listen carefully to what follows," Emma said, doing her best to convey an air of confidence that didn't exactly resonate on an inner level. "What we're going out there on is a reconnaissance missions. We go there to evaluate our position and formulate strategies of survival in this hostile environment. We stay together as a unit. We proceed with caution. And we do not engage anything unless we positively have to."
"Clear," Aisha responded promptly with all the conviction of a bureaucrat.
"Yeah, right," Lucas grumbled, still stretching his wounded hand as he gazed in obvious interest at the Kineticvance energy drifting across his skin.
Chloë merely nodded, saying nothing, her gaze remaining unocused.
Emma did take a deep breath, trying to calm herself, then 'cycled' the airlock. The inner door closure was followed by the hiss of pressurization. There was a moment of waiting, until the atmosphere level was adjusted perfectly within safe transition parameters. The outer airlock door then started opening slowly, giving Emma her first glimpse of what lay outside of their protected ship.
The WoodDust atmosphere struck them with physical force.
Emma's lungs shocked as the energy density bombarded her Aetherweave senses instantly. It was not just the WoodDust Emma was seeing now, it was the feeling it press simultaneously upon every cell of her body, trying to ram its way into her mind. The experience was like trying to drown in a liquid energy current, except this energy was almost alive, its chaotic patterns of motion.
This is what primordial WoodDust feels like, Emma reflected while struggling to retain any semblance of clear awareness. This is not the refined energy we use in our applications, not the harnessed force we rely on. This is what it feels like before it's been cleansed of its wild essence, its raw fundamental energy.
"Emma, your Aetherweave resonance has gone into a sharp spike," Auren cautioned through her interface with the Questmind. "It's an instinctual draw of energy in protection of yourself from the stresses of the environment. Your current level is fifty-three percent and climbing."
Emma willed herself to focus despite the flood of sensory data, suppression of her natural reaction as her heightened senses screamed in her mind. Emma extended her awareness via her Aetherweave abilities, imprinting order on the Pandemonium engulfing them, establishing an area of relative calm from which the WoodDust concentrations decreased enough not to be instantly fatal to the human crew. The task was all but impossible, like trying to hold an entire world's worth of water back by herself.
The catch was that this was a field of stabilization that Emma had to continuously work on. Emma could not just place this field there and leave it alone. Emma had to continuously work on this field every second of her life. Emma was trying to resist this force of nature that was trying to push her into a position where her field of protection would collapse. It was like trying to hold an object on your head, except it was an energy force.
"Stay near me in the stabilization field," Emma ordered, conserving the force of will that kept her protection field in place. "This environment is harmful to human physiology on a basic cellular level. Without the benefit of my field, damage would begin occurring in mere moments."
They emerged into the surface of the shard on which they had crashed, and a small shift occurred in Emma's grasp of reality as her newly acquired data was incorporated into her data framework.
What was underneath their feet was not solid matter in the conventional sense Emma knew from normal planetary geology. The ground was organic in some fashion, with a pulse of very slight rhythms, almost like the process of breathing or the beating of a human heart. There was texture on this ground, which reminded her of tissue matter, except it was also transparent like highly Colored Glass, so that Emma could glimpse various structures below. There existed Veins/channels of various levels in this matter, moving WoodDust energy like blood.
And it was hot to the touch, she realized as the heat from it permeated her suit's thermal barriers. Hot enough almost to be dangerous, hot enough that it was radiating its energy at a vibrational level that seemed to resonate through her boots.
"What is this stuff made of?" Lucas asked, kneeling down. "It's alive. Or at least something very close to alive by any reasonable definition," Lucas continued. "This is bio-architecture laced with WoodDust on fundamental levels." Meanwhile, Emma was trying to discern more of the surroundings. "What's that noise? The sound of rushing water or something?"
"Tier-11 bio-architecture, as it appears from my findings," Auren answered, confirming through the Questmind link. "It seems from me? this whole shard of space is a built or grown pattern, not natural geologic formations created by gravitational compression. The WoodDust channels act as both energy transport lines and structural framework in tandem, as if consisting of both a distribution network of energy and structural rudiments within an overall harmonious framework."
Emma scanned her gaze across the region of the landscape surrounding their wreck site, trying to make sense of the information her enhanced senses conveyed.
The resulting landscape was dotted with spikes of various distances, immense versions of the same organic transparent material extending into the golden-crimson clouds. Some of them stretched kilometers into the sky, dwarfed by nothing Emma had seen on habitable planets in her service. And all of them were alive with the same inner illumination, the same rhythmic pattern of respiration as the ground itself. As if the entire complex was one single, unit creature, not multiple ones.
"This is not just a piece of a planet drifting through space," Emma stated aloud, her thoughts racing. "This is someone's space. Something of theirs. We wrecked an object like a building, not just an empty area of space."
"And then where is the owner of this territory?" asked Aisha as her sensors scanned their surroundings.
The question was hardly out of her mouth when Emma realized that an enormous reaction was occurring within her Aetherweave.
The WoodDust's signature was so immense it dominated all else in her awareness by mere appearance. It did not build from the distance of its location, nor was there any portent of its coming. It was simply there, as if it had always been there, and Emma simply had not been aware of it until this very moment. The raw energy density was so great it was beyond Emma's comprehension despite her enhanced awareness abilities.
Is this an elder dragon? Is this what their power levels look like? she realized, her mind reeling. It's not the kind of dragon I've heard of in stories told to me when I was younger, this type of ancient dragons are working on scales that transcend human comprehension.
"Contact!"
Gray's warning voice rang through their communications. "Massive energy signature bearing on your position, approaching quickly! The energy output shows ten to the forty-eighth joules. Elder Dragon levels of energy signature, according to all available sources!"
Emma's head jerked up in the direction of the sky above her, her breath caught in her throat.
Something was dropping from the golden-crimson haze that filled her normal vision. For an instant, she wondered if it was another of the spires, another tower of organic matter moving through the air. Then it hit her that it was moving with intent, with intelligence, and its true size was registering in her mind.
A dragon.
Nowhere near the smaller creatures Emma had learned of through history books or adventure tales. This was mammoth, staggeringly huge, an impossibility of a creature that could ever hope to fly or, indeed, stay whole through the force of its own gravity. Metalic scales shimmered on its skin, golds and bronzes in a liquid motion of coppery hues, as if it was poured from hot liquid metal, always in motion. Kilometer-wide wings stretched into the WoodDust eddies, drifting inexorably downwards.
And its eyes, visible from this range, shone with intense WoodDust energy, which made Emma's Aetherweave senses howl with warning of danger levels.
The problem was, Emma did understand on an intellectual level that they were no match for this creature. If this Elder Dragon chose to merely wipe them out, there was nothing they could do to stop it. No kind of defense they had would be effective against this kind of power. The best they could hope was to attempt to persuade it that they weren't a threat worth eradicating.
Their survival tactics will be guided by Emma's diplomatic requirement of Avoiding acts which could potentially be seen as hostile or threatening. Also, they will focus their efforts on proper communication practices, including first contact settings which sometimes demanded following an unknown protocol. Hence, there was a need for a period of cautious engagement with this more superior force if human beings in this scenario wished to come out of this experience alive.
However, they could do nothing else, from their perspective, than accept their complete helplessness regarding this issue.
"Everybody, stay calm, don't make any rapid movements," Emma ordered, her own heart pounding from instinct. "No threatening gestures or displays of power. This is first contact with local law enforcement, and we most definitely are trespassors upon their turf. It's imperative we do not pose any threats."
The dragon landed heavily enough that it shook the entire shard of ground they stood on, rippling through the tissue like waves on the surface of the water. Close-up, it was almost impossible not to be overwhelmed by the physicality of it all, which was calibrated on a completely different level from the human experience. Emma couldn't help but feel like an insect facing a mountain, only this was a mountain with its eye fixed intently on them.
And then an impossible event occurred that challenged Emma's knowledge of biology.
The dragon's shape started to change and compact in ways which defied the laws of conservation of mass. Emma knew it was no trick of the imagination or holographic image. This was physical transformation, where the dragon's gigantic body was physically reshaping itself on a fundamental level. The scales melted like poured liquid metal into a mold, the immense wings folded into perfect geometric shapes, the one-kilometer body compacted into something approaching human-like form.
What is this process? Emma wondered, observing it all with a mixture of fascination and terror. This is not shapeshifting or illusion magic that I am used to. This is true physical transformation on a molecular or atomic level. Subatomic particles restructured into different arrangements which retain a common essence.
"Shapeweaving," Auren continued through the Questmind link, his voice filled with wonder despite his rational bent. "Dragon magic reserved for Elder dragons and higher rank. Theirs is the ability to reshape their actual physical form, not merely guise themselves differently but reconstitute their matter into various patterns while retaining awareness. This, among others, sets Elder dragons apart from younger ones."
The transformation was finished after a few seconds of restructuring, resulting in an entity that was tall and ominous but not anymore gigantic in size. Humanoid by base structural design, with longer limbs proportionate to her kind, with a visage still sporting marked draconic characteristics rather than human ones. Female, as best could be discerned from her gendered characteristics, Emma observed, though this seemed to her not non-applicable or perhaps irrelevant to an entity functioning on this level of powers. The scales of her metallic skin remained, though much smaller in size, making her resemble someone adorned with non-functional armor. And her eyes still radiated her WoodDust energy concentrated into that spot that caused Emma's heightened sight to squint from direct contact.
"Who," asked the dragon in a voice that had the force of physical energy shaking the air,"has trespassed on my territorial domain unauthorized?"
The speech was unfamiliar in Emma's ears, musical syllables that conveyed meaning. However, Auren was able to interpret it instantly through her Questmind interface, decoding the incomprehensible sounds into Emma's native language.
Emma proceeded with caution as she spoke, ever mindful of the fact that she was communicating with something which could wipe her and her crew from existence effortlessly, without expending itself. "I am Captain Emma Forrest of the Observer. My crew and I come from the Seedkeeping regions of the low tiers of the Cosmic Arbor called earth. We were forcibly routed on this course by hostile sabotage of our navigation."
The dragon fixed her with those radiant eyes that seemed capable of looking into her flesh itself, her very essence of awareness, and Emma could swear she was facing scrutiny on the most basic levels of her existence. Gauged not merely on the surface of her awareness but on her very essence of existence itself.
"Seedkeepers," the dragon repeated, her tone dripping with contempt, as Emma could tell. "Tier 15 or 16 by your power levels, perhaps tier 17 at best. You're just children playing in realms that are well beyond your understanding or abilities, and you have the nerve to assert that hostile sabotage was the cause of our meeting rather than your mere ineptitude with navigation?"
The dismissal stung more than Emma had anticipated. They'd been through impossible ordeals, ones that would shatter more ordinary crews into a thousand pieces, exceeded every limit of their physical and then their mental abilities, fought their way through obstacles that would eradicate most of the best of humanity. And this creature found all of it insignificant.
One's strength is also one's weakness, Emma thought again but bitterly this time while processing the humiliation. Our greatest achievements and hard-won victories mean absolutely nothing to those operating at higher tiers of power. All our struggles and sacrifices are just children's games from this perspective.
As for your position of power, Emma continued, her voice shaking with emotion, "We were specifically routed here by a party that functions on levels of conceptual meddling that exceed our current processing abilities. "Our coordinates have been compromised by means not visible or detectable by us, overriding channels encoded into our navigation data by an illegal hostile party," Emma continued. "It's clear we're the victims of a trap from someone operating on levels of functionality we can hardly understand."
"And then you expect me to feel sorry for your newfound status as a victim?" The dragon asked with sharp amusement that seemed almost cruel. "This is the Hyper Universe, kid. Only one thing matters there, and that's power. Your ideals of right and wrong, of fairness and justice, those will be your Achilles' heel in this place, not an asset. The first step towards survival is always power."
The thing was, Emma was beginning to understand that this wasn't just philosophical posturing or rhetorical flourish. The dragon genuinely believed what she was saying. In the Hyper-Universe, apparently, the normal ethical frameworks that guided behavior in lower tiers were not just irrelevant but actively detrimental to survival. Power determined outcomes, period. Morality was luxury for those strong enough to afford it.
The revelation was worrisome on many counts. If all of this region was built on this philosophy, then there was a strong chance that their gospel of resisting Small God corruption could be fundamentally flawed. What would one counsel entities that valued ultimate power more than anything else in life, the preservation of reality?
Lucas pushed forward impulsively, his Kineticvance blazing with a controlled frenetic energy all around his remaining hand. "So then, let's speak of power. You'd like an idea of what we can do firsthand, rather than merely labeling us insignificant."
"Lucas, step back right now!" Emma ordered firmly, feeling a rush of alarm spread through her sensing.
However, the dragon was already looking at Lucas as if it approved of him, not as a reaction to his bellicose pose. "At least one of you understands the elemental principles of existence. Pure strength and the nerve to wield it. Maybe this one will survive in this place if he doesn't blow it."
Emma could feel the dynamics sliding a little in an unforeseen direction. The dragon was impressed by Lucas' aggressiveness? Now, this was logical if only the currency was brute force, but it was giving merit to Lucas' philosophy more than Aisha's logical mind. This was exactly what kind of setting could come between them.
"We're not here to survive or prove ourselves," Aisha pointed out logically. "We're here to gather intel on Small God corruption that is patterned throughout reality structures on various levels of tiers. The entity named Kaelen-Thot was said to flee into the realms of the Dragon in order not to be tainted by this corruption, which we must find in order to gain information on how we can stop this corruption from totally collapsing reality on all tiers."
The dragon laughed, and this time there was true amusement in it, which seemed almost cruel in its belittling of her concerns. "Corruption? You grossly misinterpret the nature of what's occurring. The Small Gods are merely WoodDust following the inherent nature of its design, which is chaos and destruction and growth. There's no corruption to resist, merely the exercise of power upon weakness. Your whole paradigm of this scenario is predicated on incorrect assumptions concerning the nature of reality."
Emma felt the cold realization drip into her awareness like icy water.
This was more than just a disagreement on philosophy. The dragon was a true believer in what they fought for. They honestly believed that everything they did in this mission was misbased on the true nature of reality. If this was what it was like on the Hyper-Universe level of perspective, it was going to be an interesting experience finding this Kaelen-Thot.
"So you won't help us find Kaelen-Thot?" Emma asked quietly, as if she already knew the answer.
"Help you?" the dragon repeated, the sharp amusement flickering across her face once more. "I will take you before the Scale Accord, which is the governing authority of this sector. They will decide what happens to those of you who broke the territorial laws, regardless of your attempts at sabotage or merely your ineptitude." "As Aresia, Elder of the Ashen Protectorate faction, you will be in my care until a proper verdict is given."
"We're not crooks," Chloe declared suddenly, her voice filled with actual feeling for the first time since the crash. "We're trying to prevent the destruction of reality itself. Can't you see what we're trying to do here?"
"I realize you lack the strength of will to enforce your desires," Aresia continued brutally. "And lacking the proper force of will, your ethics mean nothing more than cacophonous nonsense which no one need take seriously. The Scale will hear your petition, of course, and they will decide according to their own interests, not your ideals."
The problem was, Emma was beginning to understand the trap they were in. This was not a scenario in which right was the issue. Right or wrong did not apply. They could not win this kind of battle. The Hyper-Universe was a place where only one force mattered. Power was all, it seemed. They did not have enough of it to matter to someone like Aresia.
What do you do when you're powerless? Leverage. Find an angle. Identify the actors. Figure out whose interests you can align with. For a moment.
"Prepare for transport to Scale Accord capital," Aresia commanded while beginning to shift back toward her colossal draconic form. "We depart within the hour. I suggest you—"
"Excuse me for the interruption," a fresh voice introduced itself into the polite, calm discussion.
Emma turned her head quickly into the direction of this surprising voice and saw a figure approaching from one of the nearby spires in the distance. Also human-like in design, also blue-skinned like Aresia in her human form, but wearing robes this time instead of scales or armor. And on his forehead, Emma could make out a symbol or sign that she didn't recognize. Ice or freeze, indicated by its coloration and designs.
"Who do you presume yourself to be that you could interrupt this procedure?" Aresia asked, her irritation clear.
"I am Cypher," the man continued with perfectly calm courtesy despite Aresia's irritation. "An archivist of the Scale Accord. Currently operating within this sector on routine documentation expeditions. Even so, it was impossible not to hear your discussion with those individuals known as Seedkeepers. What exactly was the meaning of this 'Access Request' business?"
His pace was deliberate, and Emma measured him with her Aetherweave senses. His energy pattern was peculiar, hard to fully discern. It was not as thunderous as the Elder Dragon energy of Aresia, nor was it anything that could ever be considered insignificant. There was an almost distorted quality about it that was hard to place, almost like seeing a reflection of something in a body of water that was not accurate.
"And why does it matter to the archivist's routine documentation work?" Aresia asked suspiciously. "Why does their plight matter in particular?"
"As it will take a few days to transport them by your normal means," Cypher broke in with rational explanation. "The path from your Aschen Protectorate region of influence to the capital of the Scale Accord passes through not one, not two, but three disputed regions of space, and in light of current factional politics, such transport entails a considerable risk of confiscation or slowdown. Luckily, I do know of an alternate warp route in this region of space which could get them into the capital city in mere hours, rather than days."
Emma could feel her instincts screaming warning signals all through her, but she could not pinpoint on how the danger was coming from somewhere. Cypher seemed to be of help on the surface. What Emma couldn't understand was how Cypher was right on time with the right solution.
The problem was, suspicious timing was not always a sign of bad offers. Sometimes convenient fixes just were convenient fixes. The question was, did they find themselves in an inferior position by accepting the help of this unknown archivist than they did by accepting hostile transportation from Aresia?
Emma hated this kind of decision. Being forced to pick a path with two options that both seemed like they'd been influenced by someone more intelligent than her, someone who'd planned the whole situation so that Emma was led in a particular direction, come what may.
"Why would you help us specifically?" Emma asked pointedly while observing his face carefully for any telltale signs or indication of deception.
"As an archivist," Cypher replied with a small smile that seemed sincere. "I deal in information. The Seedkeepers' efforts to contact Kaelen-Thot make for fascinating information that is worth recording. Moreover, on a purely philosophcal level, Aresia's mode of transportation seems inefficient. And inefficiency rankles me."
Aisha took a step forward. Her logical mind was already breaking down the offer in an analytical manner. "This warp lane you spoke of—is it stable? What parameters do its safety settings cover?"
"I can definitely give you verification," Cypher replied, pulling a data device from his robes. "Detailed route information, energy level data, usage patterns from various users in the past few missions. You can inspect all of this information before making a decision on accepting my offer."
Aresia let out a revulsion sound that echoed through her remaining human-like form. "If you will take the word of this archivist more than mine, then you'd best prepare yourselves for whatever the consequences of your visit will bring. The three of you, Cypher, if this offer of theirs is accepted, then it will be your problem, not mine. I will notify the Scale Accord of you taking custody of these territorial trespassers."
As she declared that, Aresia started her transformation into her gigantic dragon form, seeming no longer concerned with the events transpiring now that another had been willing to take on the task of dealing with them.
Emma pulled her crew aside to discuss options, moving them out of Cypher's range of hearing.
"This is definitely suspicious," she said quietly as she observed Cypher patiently waiting at a decent distance. "The timing of his arrival, the conveniently perfect solution to our problem, the offer of help. It all screams of a trap or an attempt by a malicious entity."
"Aresia's route is definitely hostile and time-consuming," Aisha reasoned. "Aresia is definitely trying to give us a criminal trial for trespassing on her turf. Cypher, on the other hand, could potentially take us quicker than we could going directly."
"He's lying about something basic," Lucas jumped in, glaring hard at Cypher's remote figure. "I'm not sure what exactly he's lying about, but that's definitely not a man who's what he says he is. Let's take the transport that Aresia has available, and then we can fight our way through whatever we find if we must. At least then we're dealing with an honest fight."
Emma turned her focus on Chloe, who had remained quiet throughout the discussion. "What do you feel from him with your enhanced perception?" Chloe remained quiet for a moment, her grief-honed senses honed on Cypher's figure in the distance. "Something cold," she said hesitantly. "Like. obstinacy? No, that's not right. There's this sense of immovability, as if this Cypher has already decided how this particular scenario will go down, regardless of what happens. Like, this could definitely describe an element of his personality or it could be something more. I'm not sure which."
What Emma now realized, was that obstinacy could be either dangerous or useful, depending on whose side the obstinate party was on. If Cypher had chosen to aid them, then his obstinacy could prove convenient. If he'd chosen to betray them, then it would make him dangerous. Emma analyzed their diverging judgments in the time it took Aresia to complete her transformation into her giant form and then head on into the golden-crimson sky with not anotherword of farewell.
They had very little time to decide among themselves. The true nature of their predicament was becoming clear. This was not merely a matter of making decisions between good choices and bad ones. This was weighing the varieties of danger, the varieties of subterfuge by various parties with various agendas.
The route provided by Aresia was hostile, blatant in its hostility. The route provided by Cypher was suspicious, efficient, and potentially not dangerous. What do you do if all of your choices suck? You make the one where you can move the most afterwards. You look for the route that doesn't leave you stuck with preordained consequences.
"We follow Cypher's trail," Emma declared firmly. "However, we remain on high guard all the time. Aisha, you track the warp lane dynamics strictly for deviations. Lucas, you be prepared to unleash your Kineticvance weaponry at all times. Chloe, rely on your expanded awareness abilities to detect deceit or hidden dangers which could escape us. Gray, you retain strategic feed from the Observer node. Be prepared to extract us if this operation goes grievously awry."
"Understood," her crew replied in various tones from reluctant consent to flat refusal.
Emma turned back to where Cypher was waiting with that encouraging smile on his face. "Thank you very much for offering us help. However, we'd like you to understand that we're not ignorant of this whole predicament we're in. If this is a trap, we will fight our way out of it with all we can."
"Quite understandable perfectly sound caution, of course," Cypher continued, "but healthy paranoia is always a sound survival tactic in the Hyper-Universe. Now, shall we go, and the entrance to the warp lane is roughly two kilometers from here in that direction."
Emma could feel Cypher trying to reassure her with his words. As they followed Cypher across this organic surface towards this distant spire, Emma could feel the weight of her decision bearing down upon her. The trouble was, of course, that intellectually, she knew they were moving deeper into this trap that had been set for them from the very start. It was all there in her gut, in the pattern of what was happening. The coordinate trickery, then the violent crash landing, then the hostile welcome by Aresia, and now this useful assistant conveniently appearing on stage exactly on time with exactly the right prescription. It was all stage-managed by someone, planned in advance, and they were following the script like puppets unaware of the show.
However, what else did they have? The fact was clear: the Ashen Protectorate considered them criminals. The best course of events was staying with the Observer. However, this would mean dying gradually as their food resources dwindled in an hostile environment. Even if Cypher was leading them exactly where their unknown foe had been trying to steer them, there was a way out.
The first move of an invisible chess player, functioning on levels of fate or time itself, Emma considered as she watched Cypher's back as he led them on.
We've been schmoozed into every single position prior to us ever making a move on every single occasion prior to us ever making a move, and now we're following this useful guide whose timing could not be more conveniently right.
Back of them, the Observer was exposed, flawed, and helpless on the alien surface. Ahead of them, Cypher walked purposeful as a knife into a warp lane which would take them deeper into the Hyper-Universe and closer to the fate which awaited them. And in this vast universe, Emma was absolutely sure that the entity that had whispered in Pahzua language and altered their coordinates was watching their decision with cold satisfaction.
They had crossed from the relative safety of Ashen Protectorate lands, such as it was, into the next round of a game they didn't understand.
One's strength is also one's weakness, Emma thought one final time. Our ability to keep moving forward, to keep making choices under pressure, is both what keeps us alive and what walks us deeper into traps we can't see. However, there was no turning back now. The decision had been made, the road was chosen, and all they could do was walk it with their eyes open and swords in hand.