Something, Something. Sandy Crack (Closed)

[Alydia Ettermire]

Bron Retla rubbed the bridge of his nose in the wake of Alydia's sudden departure. Everything was in readiness, but the highly capable thief was spreading herself too thin. The train heist on its own needed all of her focus; she was tangling with people well above her current capabilities. If any of them got their hands on her...

And of course, she was still bent on trying to eradicate some of Raiaera's blight when she got there, and then there was the time-travel project. Neither of those were new goals; she'd been working at them for years. Ever since that one fateful trip into Raiaera to rescue the people she'd lost. Ever since... He sighed. Ever since.

The last thing she needed was to be running yet another caper on top of all of that. She needed even less to be running a caper with an item of questionable origin, operation, and value. Even worse: she was running it against someone ostensibly from the future and obviously with unknown abilities and resources. Why did she not have any sense? Why had she not consulted somebody before initiating an impulsive chase?

Less than two decades before, when a young detective found herself framed beyond fixing for a crime that hadn't actually happened, he had stepped in to offer her an escape. She was certainly was among the most talented criminals he had ever recruited, even if he couldn't control her and thus had needed to tailor his role to be more like their initial relationship: he as an informant, she as a firecracker who chased down and retrieved what she wanted. On days like this, Bron wished nothing more than that she had remained a detective, the protege of the famed Karliik.

Sometimes he wondered if she wished it, too. He knew Karliik wished it; he still conversed with the man every once in a while. It wouldn't be long before their next meeting, presuming the conference of criminals didn't end in a bloodbath.

A dark olive hand unfolded the piece of paper given to him for this adversary from the future. It was a simple sketch done in a style specific to a particular region of Raiaera. There were no words, but there was a detailed level of Blight shown in the shriveled trees and on the ground. He doubted the future man would know exactly which region this was; in another generation, this knowledge would likely be only a faint memory for the Raiaerans. Either the hard-working researchers and adventurers would cure the Blight and erase the Necromancer's last lingering effects, or it would continue to crawl forward until it consumed everything in elvendom.

He could let the future man fumble his way around the world, or he could misdirect him. He could also point him to the exact place she would be, provided certain promises were made. It would all depend on when or if the man reached him. After all, what he couldn't risk, more than anything else, was someone else running Alydia down in the next two or three days. That would be a good way to get her killed.

Folding the note and tucking it back into his pocket, Bron Retla left his small but comfortable home and walked the short distance to the small antiquities shop he ran. It wasn't big or presumptuous; there wasn't much market for such things in much of Alerar, even in its cultural center. Since he was careful to keep his criminal tracks covered and only took legitimately acquired objects, he was safe from arrest. It did make him easy to find for those he needed to know how to reach him or for those who occasionally needed some information he had.

For the time being, he picked up a cloth and started dusting a beautiful old statue. He would see what he needed to do with this new stickyfoot when and if he arrived.

[Lucius]

Alerar is a den of thieves six thousand years in the future. Nothing changed. The smell of oil and destitution was overwhelming.

“So,” I sighed. “Where in the world is she?”

The city was a tapestry of industry. I could see most of the east and southern quarters. Smog stacks and smoke plumes covered warehouses and factories. Airships thundered through the acrid atmosphere.

“Initiating scans,” ARIA said. Her voice was shrill, a high-pitched indication that she was working on three parameters at once. Like all the women in my life, she made me jealous without trying.

“I get the impression she’s not one easily found.” If I could just waltz into this period and use the Administrate database to plot locations of people, I could have left weeks ago.

Things were changing too quickly. Paradox aside, I wanted to leave so bad. Whatever caused the wormhole in our time was no threat to the fabric of our own timeline. It was, however, a potential cause for concern for the Althanas of here and now. Technology could fall through the cracks in our universe. Bedlam.

“Scan identifies three locations that the target has frequented recently.”

ARIA produced an overlay over the panorama. Three blinking lights; one east, one west, and one far north. I tapped the easterly marker for more information.

“No. Not there.” An abandoned warehouse was too obvious. “Show north.”

“The northern location is a criminal network.”

“That one.” I pointed to the third marker.

“Purportedly a world renowned antique dealer’s residence.”

We had been together a long time, but I regretted removing the emotive response restrictions on her programming. She had been all too quick to develop sarcasm and supposition. Whenever we exchanged ideas now, it was like talking to myself. I am, as I am sure you will discover if ever we meet, a highly frustrating bastard.

“Given her proclivity to steal things…” I realised too late what Alydia Ettermire was doing. “I’d say she was showing off.”

A trophy hunt. She was dragging me through her world and telling me, clearly, that she was not to be messed with. She was more like me than ever I’d admit.

“No,” I corrected myself, sullen. Eyes narrowing on the marker, I disbanded the overlay and connected to the small ship high above Ettermire. My home from home. My sanctuary. “She’s showing me that she wants someone to dare try.”

Blue lights. Ascension. A brief journey through time, space, and a shot of whiskey or twelve. I found myself at the door to the aforementioned dealer’s residence with a clenched fist held to the door. Ettermire felt unwelcoming enough, but this building radiated fear and loathing. I could not work out if it was for outsiders, or everyone. I knocked.

“Here goes nothing…”

I held my hands trustingly in the small of my back, finger poised to press the shield device if needed. I smiled as weak and as feeble as my conviction about getting the device back was.

[Alydia Ettermire]

Bron Retla’s door was deep set, cloaked in shadow and decorated in subtle, heat-dispersing trompe de l'oeil. In other words, the perfect cover for any ne’er-do-well in the antiques dealer’s acquaintance to hide from prying eyes. It might have been occupied, for all Lucius knew before he approached. The generally genial thief comprised a fraction of a fraction of Retla’s network, and her rules made her one of the least dangerous when unprovoked. The Bracken might have considered himself lucky to face only a painted iron door if he knew who else regularly crossed that threshold.

He might have.

Darkness trembled in the doorway, more than frustrated, nearly angry. Shadow melted and dripped from rafters to cobblestone, pooling and puddling into a humanoid shape. Lucius stepped back, startled. He knew Alydia fairly well, and while he hadn’t seen this particular ability before, he wouldn’t put it past her to hide from herself while still observing the locale.

What he didn’t think she could do was become a muscular man with razor-sharp features and hair as white as Salvaran snow. L’ V’drin Barra stood before the time traveller, a grimacing sneer tearing black lips back from his teeth. L’ V’drin Barra - The Sleeping Shadow - was nearly as infamous as the “Red Fandango.” He was a thief who also stole rare and valuable items; the only way to tell one of his heists from one of Alydia’s was generally that she left a calling card and he did not. He was also known as an assassin. His favored methods of ambush? From darkness, as darkness, with darkness.

Lucius pushed the button to engage his shield, unleashing the forcefield. L’ Barra tapped the nigh-invisible barrier. “Do you honestly think a thin sheet of light can save you when darkness lies at your very feet, Arian?” Duffy’s shadow coiled around his ankles in thin tendrils, making a blatant point.

The Alydia who had ambushed him in Raiaera - the Alydia he knew, the Alydia who knew him, not the reckless whelp of this day - had warned him of this possibility. L’ V’drin Barra, Zakin Everghym, wanted what Lucius was pursuing, and was thus in pursuit of she whom Lucius pursued. Like Aly, he had a set of rules… but those rules didn’t let many people escape from him.

“That’s not what I think will save me, no. Not from you.” Lucius’s mind worked feverishly. He couldn’t get back to his ship without both causing a commotion and this dark Alerian plunging his own shadow into him like a knife. His pistol didn’t work in this time frame (at least, not for him). And Retla hadn’t opened his door. The Trouper needed to talk his way out, and fast.

“But you know that if I’m here, she’s long gone. You don’t know where she’s going any more than I do, and you’re not the person they’re expecting. Kill me, and you’ve lost.”

A tendril of shadow slashed up from Lucius’s ankle, suddenly hard and sharp as metal. It skimmed his wrist, leaving a seeping gash, and shattered his shield device. Nothing stood between Duffy and the assassin’s strong hands, and his reflexes weren’t good enough to escape the grab.

Stars exploded in Lucius’s vision, tender neck giving into the rough grip of iron-strong fingers. Mechanically-enhanced body struggled against action-hardened muscle, fruitlessly fighting the darkness that encroached more and more rapidly. Tendrils of shadow rippled over the time-traveller, searching for the clue he carried.

A missile whistled by Lucius’s head, so close it brushed his ear. L’ Barra dropped his mark, evading the speeding crossbow bolt, and vanished as a second and third round rang against the door like a gong. Through foggy eyes, Lucius watched a fell shadow drop on an armored Alerian elf, who held up an object that glowed like the moon.

A vehement curse, a lifting of darkness, a quieting of light. Then the street was silent.

Light-weight but sturdy greaves filled the human’s eyes, an emerald gaze regarded him through ash-gray skin. This could only be Zezen Silinrul, a one-time army sniper who had thrown his lot in with Bron Retla and Alydia Ettermire. He bent down, grabbing Lucius by the shoulder and setting him upright.

“L’ rivvil d’Alydia kirn, nau?” Tradespeak was not his language, but the question was clear enough anyway. He shook the human a bit, as though to mix a little more air into his blood - if there was any air to be found in Ettermire’s smog. “Ulu chaon wun draeval d'chaon, jiharditalwien.” He pointed to a small brick building across the square, then walked off, leaving Lucius to find his destination himself.

[Lucius]

I opened communications with my ship and Ansett began to tumble out of the clouds towards the city. Just in case.

“Alydia’s friend?” I asked groggily. I spoke in common, but the audio-relay translator projected it in elven. He was gone before I realised. Just like all of her associates, throughout time and space.

Hobbling in the direction the elf had pointed, I thumbed through the mental handbook of how many ways this could go wrong.

I walked into the building and found myself out of the frying pan and into the fire. If people were not trying to kill me, they were trying to lure me into dark corners of dark ships in dark space and dark times.

A lone olive-skinned elven man stood in the shop. “Ettermire is no place for a human to travel unwarily,” he noted wryly. “You’re lucky that my employee found you on his way to make a delivery.”

I stepped into the shop’s entrance, refusing to venture further in the immediate aftermath of the attack.

“Alydia Ettermire, thief or not, has taken something I cannot allow her to have.”

This pursuit was in defence of time itself. If the device was not in the wreckage when the Paradox Retraction team recovered it in two months’ time, a series of events would occur that would have drastic implications for all of Galaxy 492. At the very least, I’d lose a month’s pay.

“Why come here to ask after her? A thief who takes things with no monetary value seeks no counsel from a humble merchant.” Bron Retla was fooling no-one. Not this time, anyway.

“You are a known accomplice of hers,” I accused.

Retla’s glare intensified.

I took a deep breath. The air smelt of stagnant water. Much of Alerar did. The steam from the eternal cog of industry layered thick the walls and gangways with choking vapour. The vapour turned metal to rust, the rust turned air to poison – only an elf could live a life here for long.

“Sei Orlouge.”

The name slipped out quite by accident. He frowned, clearly irritated.

“He is of no importance here.” A heavy sigh worked its way out of the merchant’s nose. “You were expected, stickyfoot. Come with me.” Retla turned to lead me through the shop. He pulled aside a black curtain. I followed dutifully.

The back room was a small chamber with a ring table, two chairs, and ample gloom. Bron sat enigmatically and gestured for me to sit opposite.

“I know the name Orlouge, but why should Alydia return this item?” Retla raised an eyebrow.

I shrugged. Why should she? “I offer a trade.”

Retla spoke psalms with silence.

“Something she cannot refuse.”

“That sounds like a threat, time traveller.” Retla’s tone could have cut adamantine.

“I simply want to trade.” I did. “How can I let her know?”

The elf was silent again, weighing me, his options, and doubtlessly a dozen other factors to which I will never be privy. “Sinta Illya. Have you heard of him?”

I shook my head.

Retla unrolled a map of Raiaera and pointed to a dot - a research outpost within the Plaguelands. “He is a researcher. Find him. Explain. If judged false you’ll die. If he believes you, you’ll meet Alydia. Go.”

I wasted no time and vanished into the aether.

[Alydia Ettermire]

A knock at the door of his study was Sintta Ilya’s first indication that his day wasn’t going to be normal. That the base would soon be abuzz with both apprehension and excitement was beyond given; Alydia Ettermire was due to arrive within a day. She would pull more Blight from the earth and return hope to the weary researchers and crusaders. All but a few of them, though, did not trust that she wouldn’t steal whatever it was they deemed most precious.

It was laughable to the raven-haired magi-scientist. The thief’s goals were too important to her and required too much of her focus for her to have an interest in stealing things here. After all, one of her goals was the cleansing of Raiaera. The techniques developed here furthered those interests only if they were here.

“Enter,” he called, glancing up briefly from the sheaves of loosely-bound papers on his pine desk. He did a double-take at the figure who stepped over his threshold. It was not his green-eyed compatriot Hyanda Lindir, who had left already to meet their Alerian friend, but golden-haired Glorfindel. He and Sintta had first met when the Bladesinger had accompanied Alydia to the evacuation of Eluriand. To this day, the former Legionnaire did not consider himself a part of Alydia’s organization, but he was willing to aid her so long as her actions coincided with (or at least didn’t contradict) his own aspirations.

Sintta gave him another decade at most before he joined their odd and enlightening cause entirely, as a volunteer. Hiki Komori, in Akashima, bet that Alydia would be dead before the Bladesinger was willing to become part of the group, but that he would much regret not having joined.

“What news?” Had Alydia returned early? Or had Lord Elrohir captured her while she traversed the wastes and Hyanda was sending word of their brief delay?

“A human arrived at the facility’s entrance some minutes ago, asking for you. When I asked him why, he said that Bron Retla sent him.” Glorfindel’s impassive tone belied his wearily resigned expression.

Sintta sat straighter. “Bron? With everything else she’s doing, is Alydia also pulling off a spontaneous heist?”

“I would put nothing past that Tel’gothra.”

Sintta frowned, reaching into his desk and pulling out a glowing blue stone. He set it on his workspace and tapped it four times, then three. It flashed silently for nearly a minute before a dry baritone crackled through.

“This is Retla. I’m with Silinrul.”

“Ilya here, with Tinehtele. Did you send a human to my door?”

“Xas. Alydia stole something from him. He wants to negotiate a trade with her for its return.”

The elf’s frown deepened, though the chantstone could not convey that across the distance. “Why did you not let him muddle through her clue?”

Silence sounded for a moment while the Alerian at the other end considered how to frame his explanation. “He is a voyager from the future by at least a few thousand years. My options were to send him to Istraloth, which wouldn’t fool him long, direct him right to you, or risk having him find her during the train heist.”

Sintta winced. That endeavor was already enough of a mess. The voice continued. “I believe she will be intrigued by his proposal. Hear him out, vet him. If you judge him true, let them negotiate. If you judge him an imminent threat, do what you must.”

The stone went dark and Sintta stood, sweeping the enchanted crystal back into its place. “Please then, Glorfindel. Take me to this human.”

~*~*~

Alydia walked into the base just under a day later, Hyanda Lindir at her side. Exhaustion dragged her steps a little, she was covered in grime. She was also extremely pleased with herself, carrying a prize in her hands. It was wrapped in thick, protective cloth to pad against rough voyages, and the thief pressed it into her old friend’s hands as she greeted him.

“Well met, Sintta. What news from the year?”

Sintta cradled the gift she’d brought. If he was right about what it was, it was a great boon to Raiaeran morale, an ancient piece of art that was still hotly contested. “Your return brings light to the dark places, Alydia. We have made some progress in our research. Was Lyusya able to give you the documents?”

The Alerian nodded, walking at Sintta’s side through the brightly-lit halls. “I read them on the train from Knife’s Edge to Ettermire. I have some suggestions to make the canisters more efficient - rather, Zhaunus does.” She pulled a file from within her coat and gave it to the researcher. If you haven’t worked out a better fix by my return next year, his notes might be of help.”

“Other eyes are always welcome. There is other news. A visitor came for you, and is waiting here. A time traveller by the name of Duffy Lucius.”

Alydia blinked. “He got here fast. Well…”

“The game was violated. Bron sent him directly instead of delivering your clue to him.”

Alydia’s lips tightened into a scowl. How dare one of hers disrupt her dance with a jiharditalwien?

“You can contact Bron later. The visitor wishes to negotiate a trade with you, so it is not all lost.”

The thief sighed, running her hands over her hat and coat, stealing away the dirt and grime. “I will contact Bron later. For now, lead on. We might as well speak now and have it over with.”

Sintta nodded, motioning her down the hall. “It might cheer you that Glorfindel is waiting with him, being characteristically stern.”

“I wonder if Glorfindel even knows how to smile…” Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember ever seeing a light-hearted expression on the Bladesinger’s face. When she had seen him, he always looked stern, sad, or sour.

Sintta opened a door for her, letting her into a small meeting room where a weary wanderer waited.

“Well, Mr. Lucius… I believe you wanted to speak with me?”

[Lucius]

The understatement of the century put a smile on my face. I began to explain myself with a curt nod.

“The ship you stole from is called the Arbalest. It’s a class II interstellar scout ship designed approximately five thousand and eight hundred years in the future.” By way of proof, I activated my hologram projector and conjured a small, transparent image of the ship. It rotated slowly.

“It’s a wreck, though,” Alydia said. She watched the image, unimpressed. “I salvaged what was worth my time.”

“By all means. The rights of Salvage haven’t changed in my time, either.” It was how, after all, how crew of the Tantalus trade freighter made their living in the ruins of a war torn galaxy. Hypocrisy was delicious, and second only to whiskey.

With a thought I deactivated the projector and dropped my hands to my sides. I remained in a neutral stance. I wanted Alydia to feel as though she still held all the cards. Sadly, the one card she did was a trump. Without the trade this world was destined for a fate worse than death. Time dilation. Decay. Entropy and oblivion. Not a pretty sight.

“Then I fail to see your interest in my belonging.”

Oh, she was cheeky. The brim of my cap beaded with sweat. Though I exuded cocksure confidence, I was starting to feel the pressure of the long game the elf was playing. I had to admire her dedication through a wave of nausea.

It was Alydia's turn to smirk. "Let's hear your offer, and I'll decide whether or not I have the item.."

“You just told me you-” I curtailed myself and started over.“You can have anything for the device. Simple.” I had to be perfectly honest with her at this point. She had me firmly by the balls. “I need the device to return to my time and to restore the damage the war there has done. You need what I can offer to become the person you think you want to become.”

I trailed off to allow her time to consider. I took the time to admire the decrepit grandeur of my surroundings. Whoever my host was, he had a strange sense of the macabre. Traits of formerly radiant elfish architecture were visible in every location I chased Alydia through. Yet, the grim faces and the dark elf’s withered soul made the outpost a dank, cold, and unfeeling place to be stuck.

“Anything?” she asked.

I smirked back at her, folded my arms, and nodded. “The universe and all the contents, just for that box.”

[Alydia Ettermire]

Alydia leaned back in her chair, a complete rejection of the outsider’s outlandish offer. “The universe is not yours to give, nor would I want it if it was.” Where would the challenge be? What would she have left to do? “The things I want, you cannot give. This land and its people restored, lost lives returned, lost homes refilled. These things are not in your power to give. Even if they were within your ability, the constraints against you make the giving impossible.”

Lucius opened his mouth to protest, to tell her that of course he could do that! Anything, anything! But a web of darkness congealed in Alydia’s hand, slamming into the table with a loud WHUMPH. In place of the shadow sat a large tome made of dragon hide and liviol paper, set with coruscating gems only discovered four thousand years in his future, written with ink mined from the hearts of a thousand dead stars.

The Bracken looked at her, wide-eyed and startled by both the dark elf’s sudden vehemence and her possession of a Book of Secret Histories. That explained so much of her mysterious future. Had she any idea yet, just how much that was worth?

“Do not think I am uninformed, helothann de’ draeval,” Alydia hissed, blue fire shining in her eye. “Do not think I will fall for your lies or machinations, because I do not appreciate that in negotiations.” Shadow once again consumed the tome, removing it from view. She straightened up, shaking waves of curly black hair out from beneath her crimson coat. “Try again. Try truthfully. While I still have patience.”

Lucius stared at her, dumbfounded. After all she’d dragged him through, while she still had patience?! The long chase, the infernal clues – he’d still be hunting her if one of her own people hadn’t taken pity on him. Come to think of it, Retla had known he was a time traveler, too. ”Information flows too freely between the Fandango and her cohorts in this time, too.” Damn.

Duffy sighed, putting his hands on the table and slouching a bit. It was just like her to make every single step of every single interaction as difficult for him as possible, even if she didn't know it yet. “All right,” he muttered wearily. “What I am prepared to offer you is a pair of time travel devices. You've been working on it for years now, right? But you've had only failures so far, despite your estimates indicating success. The right materials just don’t exist in your time period.”

He pulled one out, giving it a grand flourish. “I wasn't lying or exaggerating, Miss Ettermire. The universe and all within it, unlocked for you to explore.”

He held it out tantalizingly, fairly sure she wouldn't steal it from out of his hand. She might have been a thief among thieves, but he'd always known her to give good faith in exchange for good faith. Now, with all reality hinging on her one decision, would she throw the universe into the abyss or haul it from the brink?

Silence hung in the room while the thief considered her angles and weighed her options. After an eternity, she answered.

“I want the devices, their instructions, and proof that the units you give me function as promised.”

[Lucius]

“The device is quite simple.” I didn’t think about what I was just saying, I simply let enthusiasm and child like wonderment at the marvels of tomorrow guide me. I tended to stutter otherwise.

Alydia took it from me gingerly, weighing it between her palms and examining the components. It was a flat panel with a cylindrical handle much like a comms device, only weighted and capable of opening wormholes in three dimensions. Now that I had solicited her aid and brought her into the fold, one thought crossed my mind. Fuck the Prime Directive. More so, fuck Sei Orlouge.

“The question is less how it works, and more where would you like to go?”

“When.”

I chuckled. This young Alydia’s ‘keep you on your toes’ attitude was starting to win me over, even if it infuriated me beyond measure. Even if it would always do.

“Quite. When. Any point in time.” I gestured for her to enter a date on the panel, using a rotating touch screen that resembled to her (I imagined) a mirror. A magical mirror. A magical, unexplainable, time-travelling mirror.

“Are there any rules and stipulations?” Her tone had a hitch in it, as if she had an idea already and was waiting to see if I would tell her the truth.

This, I thought, was precisely the sort of question logical and sane people asked. I could see why someone like her would both want to ask it, and want to double-check. Given I knew I gave it to her and she did relatively sort of maybe always moral and good things with it, I did not see the harm in telling her the truth.

“Quite simple, really. Avoid yourself at all costs. Ever you meet your future or past counterpart simply look the other way.”

This was the cardinal rule of time travel. Few people had ever tried, and I couldn’t exactly tell you what would happen if you ever shook your own hand (something, according to Sei, that at the least deserved a court martial).

I was glad we agreed.

“Hold still a second,” I asked her.

Flexing my muscles in both shoulders, I conjured holofields around my upper arms. Green light, phantasmal and otherworldly yet really quite simple technology when you put your mind to it filled the chamber. With a twist of both wrists and a complicated series of mechanical adjustments, I appeared to dislocate my right shoulder and my arm went limp. The field on the right failed, leaving the left radiant and my eyes sparkling with a curious mix of pain and anticipation.

“This is a data uplink. It’s sort of like you reading the manual in the blink of an eye.” I pulled a cable from the appeared gap in shoulder pad. With a wrench, my entire arm came off and became an impromptu mace in my left. “Take the cable,” I said, leaning forwards, “and plug it into the spider looking thing.”

“Spider looking thing?”

A thought woke Jensen, and the drone clambered up my back and sat perched on my left shoulder. Its singular, glowing eye was dimmed by the rotary field that hummed louder the longer my batteries were strained. Yet, its ominous appearance and silent whirring still unnerved me.

“It won’t hurt you,” I lied. “Much.”

[Alydia Ettermire]

Alydia stared hard at Lucius for a long moment. The human tried to sit still and appear trustworthy, but that was nearly impossible under the scrutiny of four suspicious elves. When the dark elf released the time traveler from her gaze, it was only to assess the thoughts of her companions.

Glorfindel leaned against the wall directly behind their guest, arms folded over his chest and face locked into an inscrutable mask. By the door, Hyanda’s hand rested upon the pommel of her sword. Still young and twitchy, she betrayed her unease. Sintta, who stood behind Alydia and to her right, simply rubbed the bridge of his nose. As far as he was concerned, this was a bad idea.

He knew Aly well enough that he knew his opinion didn’t matter - she was going to do what she was going to do, and the best anyone who cared for her could do was stand by and be ready in case it killed her.

Almost cautiously, the thief’s gloved hand picked up the spider-bot, inspecting it as though she had an idea what she was looking at. After a tense minute, she took the cable from Lucius’s severed arm and connected it to the false arthropod’s abdomen.

It sprang like lightning, metal limbs digging into the Alerian’s face and the carapace sealing itself over her left eye. Her scream – half surprise, half agony – shattered the tense peace in the small, windowless room. Two swords sang against their scabbards. The tip of one dug into Lucius’s back, the blade of the other pressed against his throat.

Sintta raced to Alydia’s side. The thief was a scarlet ball, curled up into a fetal position with her hands over the spider and her eye. Was she in too much pain to take it? He reached for her face, trying to pry the offending machine off of her, but a raised palm stopped him. All he could do was hover, helpless, while she endured whatever torments the stranger inflicted on her.

~*~*~

It lasted an eternity. The robot had latched onto her nervous system and sent fire through her body, but with that fire came light, and with that came knowledge, implanted directly into her brain. All the knowledge she could ever hope to need to activate, use, and maintain the chronomic device, plus glimpses and hints at an entire universe full of interesting and dangerous things to find and explore.

A universe that was hers.

~*~*~

After several long, tense minutes, the spider fell from Alydia’s face and clambered back to its owner, who still didn’t dare move lest the pair of Bladesingers skewer him. Perhaps he would have been safer if he’d been more up front about the process; the Alerian wasn’t one to shy from pain if it would give her what she wanted, and she could have called off her dogs ahead of time.

Slowly, her breathing evened out and her body unfurled. The same hand she’d used to stop Sintta from interrupting the data transfer waved at Hyanda and Glorfindel, who grudgingly lowered their weapons and withdrew.

Lucius let out a sigh of relief and took his severed arm, engaging the mechanisms to reattach it. He, like the others, waited for Alydia’s verdict. Would the fickle thief decide that Jensen’s data transfer was an attack and that both items were forfeit?

“The deal is made,” she rasped hoarsely. “Take your thing and go.”

The chronomancy device vanished into Alydia’s darkness, replaced immediately by the neutron emitter, which she tossed to him. Hyanda opened the room’s only door, giving the time traveler his exit.

Well, more like demanding that he exit.

The deal was made. The deal that unleashed Alydia Ettermire upon the galaxy.

[Lucius]

Millennia from that moment, Lucius would enter his cabin in the early hours of the morning. It would be a restless night spent tossing and turning, sweating through tribulations and nightmares about the mistakes of his past. He would watch a video recording of that fateful departure after a dream reignited the memories.

After the third playback he paused the scene. The freeze frame showed him as he stepped out into the cold air. He wondered, as oft he did, what might have happened had he handled the situation with more professional decorum. He and Alydia might have become friends, or at the very least, business partners.

“But then,” he mused. His words trailed off into silent thoughts. She would never get to save mankind…”

The echoing cabin hummed. The distant roar of the Prima Vista’s engines served as an immutable reminder that this age was a new challenge altogether. This age owed its existence to that meeting. The concept of a temporal paradox was beyond even the galaxy’s genius minds, so Lucius never gave them more thought than ‘you can do fuck all about it.’

“Self-perpetuating,” he said as he remembered Sei’s words on the matter. “You were never meant to get along.”

They hadn’t. But, all the same, he hated being told what to do. Even by Fate.

Alydia’s acquisition of the temporal device was one of four key events that year that set Althanas on its path towards its end. There he was in grainy and decaying digital imagery, adjusting his hat and taking a deep breath as his nerves finally got a chance to calm. Those events were also the key points in time that ensured the galaxy as Lucius came to know it could survive.

“ARIA, show me chronological log 456.”

The hum of the engines became more prominent. The screen flickered. Lucius began to grow anxious. Soon, they would dock with the Axiom and his debriefing with Commander P.A.X. would begin. Though he had done much for the Administrate, every mistake made by the crew of the trade freighter fell to him to rectify. He folded his arms across his chest.

The new image depicted Lucius some months later. Under the cover of darkness he watched that unmistakable fedora disappear into a bar’s crowd. The image crackled and reformed. There he was, watching her as she and a bard and Sei’s ancestor entered a white temple garden. A roar, callous and cruel, and then a battle. It shifted again to show Alydia taking tea with the antique collector, Jensen stuck to the bookcase behind them, digital ears pricked.

“If only she knew…,” he said longingly.

He pressed the power switch and the panel dimmed. The Administrate’s true goal was to maintain that Paradox. Its agents used the wormholes, caused by the war between Raiaera and Alerar to travel through time. They were the watchers. They were the guardians.

“She stole more than a time device that day in the desert.”

Agent 492 returned to duty.