“Wake up,” one of my copies tells me firmly. “It’s zone control.”


    Immediately, I’m awake. Flailing around in a rather undignified manner, I kick the covers off and roll out of bed, taking a moment to steady myself before attempting to walk. Heading straight into the bathroom, my copy follows me, unperturbed as I peel off my clothes and step into the shower, hot water pouring immediately from the faucet.


    “We have eyes on the field yet?”


    The construction of a Crucible arena for the War Games is under heavy security, to prevent anybody from getting an unfair advantage by seeing what it’ll look like early. I didn’t bother sending anybody to try and get in yesterday, figuring their time was better spent on other projects. But now that it’s complete, and we know that it was designed for zone control, it’s possible one of my intelligence agents will have been able to sneak a peek.


    “Yeah. Take a look.”


    As I’m letting the water soak through my hair, the other me, holographic body shimmering slightly in the stream, transmits an image to me over the brainband. It’s a perfectly symmetrical design, that- unlike the map provided for the Peregrines and Komodos -appears to be entirely manmade, without any of the false appearance of nature that other arenas have provided. It’s a testament to the skill of the Crucible construction team, and the power of their machinery, that they were able to make something that looks so real in just under a day.


    The arena seems to be designed to look like a city street, or rather two sets of streets on opposite sides of a divide. There’s a vertical lane bisecting them, with ample cover provided on both sides by some buildings that look to have had their exteriors painted on entirely, concealing the fact that they’re really just building-shaped barriers meant to prevent us from sniping each other from across the map.


    Both of the streets have identical alleyways stretching down to the south, which connect to a central courtyard at the very bottom of the map, at the endpoint of the dividing lane. There’s very little cover there, meaning it would probably be smart to have somebody post up on one of the balconies overlooking it, ready to shoot anybody who emerges from the other side’s alleyway.


    What really draws my attention from this aerial picture, however, is a pair of buildings on each side, mirroring each others’ positions. Actual buildings, not empty facades, with multiple points of entrance- one from the courtyard, one from the alleyway behind, and one from a bridge above the street. Those buildings have got to be two of the three designated zones to control. The map was clearly designed so each team would easily be able to claim one of the buildings, by entering from the access points on their side, inevitably forcing us to fight over the third point.


    Having just woken up, I’m not quite confident enough to guess where that third point is going to me. The courtyard seems like the obvious spot, but then again, both of the buildings have excellent vantage points from which to cover it, so either we’d end up shooting at each other from cover, nobody stupid enough to rush the objective and get gunned down, or one of us would get their first, and that momentum would allow them to capture all three points in short order, an unsatisfyingly quick end to the match. That seems like the kind of thing the Citadel staff would be looking to avoid, considering how decisive the Peregrine-Komodo battle was.


    The other obvious spot is at the intersection between the two streets and the dividing lane, which can basically only be entered through a pair of narrow choke-points on either side. But, like with the hidden tunnel into the fortress from last time, I suspect there are probably some secret passages that would allow a clever commander to bypass the enemy’s defenses and deliver a killing blow. Hopefully I’m clever enough to figure it out in time.


    “We discussed which plan to use,” my copy informs me, after I’ve processed that information, and started to rub some lotion into my skin. “Consensus was Codename: Threnody.”


    The codename triggers my recollection of which plan she’s talking about. We made too many of them for me to commit them all to memory, so instead I saved the plans in the brainband, and set up a series of keywords to trigger me to recall the specifics. This one is a zone control strategy designed for a map with heavy cover, but a non-hazardous and stable environment, and a hybrid plan of attack that neither commits fully to offense nor defense. Exactly what I would have chosen- because I did choose to. Ten of me did, in fact.


    “Got it. What about the others?”


    “Most of ‘em are still asleep. War Council is waiting for you downstairs, though. Well, Sofie’s still getting dressed, I think, but she’ll be ready by the time you’re done.”


    Nodding, I squirt some conditioner into my palm and mush it into my hair, digging fingers into my scalp to make sure it really gets in there. Her work complete, my copy steps straight through the shower door and disappears, leaving me alone with my thoughts.


    Fifteen minutes later, I step out of the elevator into the lobby of the Hyperion Building, where my War Council awaits. That includes Ada, despite not being an official member, because her technological contributions to today’s battle will require some preparation.


    “You’re looking serious, Izzy,” Sofie jokes. “Is there something going on?”


    “Very funny. Let’s move out.”


    <hr style="font-weight: 400">


    The streets are empty when we arrive at the Crucible. It’s too early for anybody to be out and about. I got a solid night of sleep, knowing I’d have to be up as soon as the Crucible doors opened, but despite that, I can already feel that I’m gonna have to crash later. Fortunately, I’ve got some stimulant patches ready to make sure I don’t collapse before the fight’s over.


    My companions fall into formation around me as we walk, Niko and Sofie on either side, Grant and Ada on their left and right respectively, with Sander right behind me, like a shadow nearly twice my size. It’s a shame there’s nobody around to see it, really.


    A single Crucible staffer is waiting outside the side door when we get there, looking distinctly unimpressed by our whole power-formation thing.


    “You’re the Gazelle commander?” he asks disinterestedly.


    “That’s me.”


    “Locker room’s open,” he says, gesturing to the door beside him. “We already brought in all the equipment you requisitioned.”


    “With the modifications I specified?” Ada asks, a note of urgency in her voice. She spent quite a bit of time yesterday developing her radiation-targeting laser-sight thing, and it would be a shame if we didn’t get to take advantage of her hard work because the armory people got lazy.


    “Yup. You can go see for yourself.”


    Again, he nods towards the door, clearly done with the conversation. I grab the handle and hold the door open, allowing the rest of my people to head in before me.


    It’s a pretty extensive facility, with enough lockers to accommodate more than twice as many people as comprise my unit. I guess they didn’t want to find themselves lacking for space if there ever comes a time when significantly more Nobles than usual are in attendance here. We’ve been in these facilities before, while using the Crucible for training exercises, but never had cause to use all of the amenities available. A large cart laden with weapons, ammunition, explosives, and other devices we requisitioned is sitting in the middle of the room, waiting to be unloaded. But before my people can get to work on that, I clear my throat.


    “Just one thing. I’m gonna share the game-plan with you all now, so you’ve got a little extra time to go over it in your heads.”


    As I speak, I’m transferring the contents of the strategy Kat and I devised called Threnody, which my copyclan concluded was the most appropriate for this particular battlefield configuration. The information transfer is immediate, but it takes a few seconds for everybody to process it. Once they do, I give them all a nod.


    “You know what your jobs are. Get to it.”


    No sooner have I spoken does Ada head straight for the cart, pulling a rifle off the rack and examining the laser sight and scope carefully. Once satisfied that it was calibrated and installed correctly, she slots it back in place and moves on to the next one.


    Niko heads over to a wall-mounted console to bring up a three-dimensional holo-map of the battlefield, with significantly more detail that the memory-snapshot I received this morning. Toying with the controls, he rotates the projection, zooms in and out on different spots, and eventually pulls back for a distant overview, as Sofie and I walk over to examine it with him.


    While we’re doing that, Grant heads over to begin unloading the items off the cart that Ada isn’t examining, moving a single set of armor, several magazines, and various other pieces of equipment over to each locker, so that everybody will have theirs waiting for them when they arrive. Sander, after finishing his routine bug-sweep, joins him.


    “You figure the second point’s gonna be here?” Niko asks, gesturing to the southern courtyard. “Or here?” He points to the northern intersection. No point in mentioning that the two buildings will be points one and three respectively, that much is obvious to all three of us.


    “Probably the latter. Courtyard is too exposed for it to be properly defensible. We’d end up just shooting at each other from here and here.” I point to the two balconies overlooking the courtyard from the sides of the buildings, and Niko nods, understanding.


    “Makes sense,” Sofie says, but her eyes are elsewhere on the map.


    “You seeing something?”


    “Not sure yet. I’ll have somebody check it out once we’re in the field, won’t take a minute.”


    No need for me to push her on it- if her hunch turns out to be worthwhile, she’ll let me know, and if not, best I focus my attention elsewhere entirely.


    “Guess we should have expected something like this,” Niko muses. “Last match was so one-sided they had to tip the scales and it was still a blowout. But they’re expecting this one to be a toss-up, so they give us a battlefield that’s identical on both sides.”


    “What’s your assessment?” I ask. “This good for us, or not?”


    “Neither,” my Combat Officer replies, without a trace of doubt. “It’s perfectly neutral. Meaning we win or lose on our own merits.”


    There’s a long pause.


    “Okay. I can work with that.”


    <hr style="font-weight: 400">


    Over the course of the next two hours or so, the rest of the unit trickles in. Most of them look well-rested and ready to fight. Those that don’t, I pass a stim patch and tell them to slap it on before we hit the battlefield.


    Slowly, everybody equips themselves, donning Citadel-approved body armor, for the most part over our own clothes. Just about everybody had the presence of mind to wear something comfortable and ergonomic, but for those that didn’t, there are some bodysuits provided in the locker room that they change into.


    After that comes their equipment. Everybody takes a rifle, and most people bring along at least one other gun, though for most it’s a simple sidearm. Sander straps on his usual roomsweeper shotgun, Colleen opts for a compact SMG, and I take a case containing a collapsible sniper rifle too large for me to carry comfortably except contained like so. In addition, everybody takes three grenades to be strapped o their belts- two standard frags, and one containing Nikitha’s latest creation, a potent psychoactive agent that should take effect quickly enough to incapacitate the enemy within seconds of coming into contact with it. Naturally, everybody gets a quick shot to inoculate their bodies to it, lest they end up incapacitating themselves as well.


    Along with several ordinary magazines, we pass out to everybody a single mag marked with a bright red stripe, containing Ada’s specialized armor-piercing ammunition, calibrated to punch through the armor of the Oxen’s juggernaut engineer, Heinonen. Then some goggles equipped with thermal imaging lenses, in case the enemy tries to use smoke against us. Red phosphorus smoke makes thermals useless, of course, but it’s not exactly standard-issue. Besides that, I don’t assign anything else, just let everybody take whatever they think might be useful, reminding them to be cognizant of the weight it’ll add to their kit.


    However, there’s a great deal more I think we might need, and my personal philosophy is that it’s better to have something you don’t need than to need something you don’t have. So I pile up a bunch of stuff I think could be useful, stick it in a duffel bag, and ask Sander to bring it with us when we head out.


    Finally, the time comes for me to talk to everybody. Not that I’ve been silent thus far in the preparations- quite the opposite, really. But that’s hardly the same as what I’m about to do.


    “Look, you all know speeches aren’t my strong suit,” I say, as the Gazelles assemble into a loose semicircle in front of me.


    “That’s for sure,” Bret ‘quips’ from somewhere in the crowd. Not a single person laughs. For a moment, I consider saying something cutting in response, but decide against it. Now’s not the time for me to be petty, no matter how much I might want to.


    “So I’m not gonna belabor the point here. You all are the finest group of warriors I’ve ever had the pleasure of serving with. Also, the only group, but that’s beside the point.”


    A few snickers, but I think the seriousness with which I started this whole thing kinda killed the potential comedic effect that line might have had. Plus, Bret’s ill-fated attempt at humor can’t have helped.


    “We’ve got what it takes to win this, but don’t fool yourself into believing it’s a done deal. You know all the cliches by now- believe in yourself, trust your instincts, blah blah. So I’ll tell you all something you might not have heard before. Be unpredictable.”


    That elicits a few nods, and a couple confused looks.


    “Not saying you need to try and get tricky with your shooting, or whatever. But if you’re planning on hiding, don’t pick the obvious spot, because what’s obvious to you is probably gonna be obvious to them, too. Assume the enemy has a brain, and that they’re at least as good as you at using it.”


    Trying to model somebody who’s significantly smarter than you is usually not worthwhile, because you can’t actually imagine yourself into superior competency. Besides, raw intelligence isn’t usually what’s important in this context, it’s experience and instinct, which are even more difficult to model if you lack them. So if you’re facing somebody you know is actually much more experienced than you, you’re probably screwed. That’s not the case with me today, thankfully, but I’m sure I’ll have to go up against people who have decades or more of practical experience on me. And if I want to see my plans through, I’ll have to beat them. Tellis is just a warm-up.


    “With that said, let’s talk strategy.”


    <hr style="font-weight: 400">


    Not too long after, an announcement comes over the brainband, informing us that we’ve got fifteen minutes until the doors to the arena open. Immediately, everybody falls silent, and looks to me. Which isn’t much of a change, because they were already mostly silent and mostly looking at me, while I explained our plan for this exercise.


    Obviously, I shared the details with them via the brainband, but having some of the finer points laid out more clearly was- hopefully -illuminating, for the less tactically-inclined members of the unit. What matters is that they all know their roles, and I’m fairly confident that’s the case. If anybody’s still confused, they’ll just have to figure it out once we’re on the field, because there’s no more time for talking.


    The last few minutes are gone before I know it, and before our eyes, the doors to the Crucible open, allowing us to enter, and exposing us to the eyes of the world.


    It’s impossible not to think about, of course. As soon as I pass through the door, tens of thousands of people- maybe more -are watching me from across the Imperium. My family, of course, is among them, but I’m more concerned about everybody else. The last Noble in my line was a virtual nonentity, not even commanding his own unit, nor surviving past the first six months of his time at the Citadel. As such, my presence here is somewhat noteworthy. Just about everybody watching- everybody whose opinion matters, at least -will already have an idea of how they’re expecting me to act. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit worried about whether I’ll be able to meet those expectations.


    A moment later, though, I feel a cold clarity come over me. Not the effects of Midnight, though I’m prepared to use that when necessary, but a more natural substitute. This battlefield is where I belong, and there’s no place for distractions here.


    We enter straight into the lane on our side of the battlefield, about two hundred yards in length, with the narrow archway leading into the central control point visible at the far end. Between there and here are several stacks of metal crates, fastened together with straps, to act as cover, so that they can’t gun us down from all the way over there, and vice versa.


    Directly above us, at the very back of the lane, is a raised walkway, leading into the building on our right, where ‘our’ control point is located. We know those locations for sure, now- they appeared on our map a few minutes before the doors opened, exactly where I thought they’d be. On the left side, hidden behind a thick wall, is a flight of stairs leading up to the walkway, which is where I head.


    Not everybody follows me. In keeping with the plan, Niko leads the combat team straight down the lane, not charging for the control point, but setting up behind cover and preparing for an eventual push forward. A few of them, carrying proximity charges and trip-mines, set up traps all down the lane, but not very many of them. We’ve got a limited supply, and they’re better placed elsewhere, for the most part.


    Those who do follow me up the stairs, mostly continue along as I cross that walkway and head into the building. Amalia, however, hops onto a balcony on the left-hand building, and heads towards the center point, in accordance with my instructions. She’s our scout, and I need eyes on that point, so I’ll know whether or not to send my people in.


    Once I’m inside the building, accompanied by the rest of the intel team, and Ada’s tech people, I take stock of my surroundings. It’s actually a reasonably large building, bigger than it looked on the map, with a ground-floor area that’s got a few more of those stacks of crates to provide cover, as well as the most important item, the zone beacon. It’s a stout, wide cylindrical device with four crab-like legs hooked into the ground, meaning it can’t be removed, and a holographic readout displayed from the top, currently sitting at 0%. There’s a hand-scanner on the side, and as soon as I see the device, I drop down from the upper level to put my palm against it.


    Immediately, the display ticks up to 1%, and swiftly begins increasing from there. As long as one member of our unit is in proximity of the device, it’ll continue increasing until it hits 100%, at which point we’ll be considered to have captured the point. The enemy will be able to capture it even after we’ve done that, and the match won’t end even if we or they capture all the points- so long as at least one member of each unit is alive, the match will continue until time runs out, at which point the victor will be calculated based on who controlled the most zones for the longest amount of time.


    While I activate the device, my team disperses through the building, securing entrances with traps and hiding cameras in corners, which we’ll be able to patch into directly via the brainband. Those mainly go outside of the building, giving us good angles on any potential approaching enemies. Heading back up the stairs to the ‘upper floor,’ which is really just a wide ledge that overlooks the ground floor of the building, I open up the duffel bag Sander was carrying, and signal Valent over, once he’s set up all his trip-mines around the lower doors.


    “Stuff’s in here. You know what to do.”


    He nods, and grabs the satchel I point to, taking it and slipping out through the east-side door of the building, which leads into the alleyway on the right side. He’ll be taking that directly to the enemy’s side of the map, through the courtyard, and towards their building, positioned and presumably designed exactly like ours.


    ‘malia, what’s the word?


    Nothing yet, the scout replies. I’ll keep you posted.


    Sending a pulse of wordless acknowledgement, I put down the case containing my sniper rifle, crack it open, and begin rapidly assembling the powerful weapon, the precise motions not the result of practice, but of information downloaded into my short-term memory from the brainband. If I intended to use this more frequently, I’d have taken the time to learn it the hard way, but I’m not sure if I want to make it a regular part of my kit or not. This is more of a trial run- perhaps dangerous to be doing in the middle of the War Games, but proper combat lets you learn things that you simply can’t during training.


    Once I’ve put the rifle together, and slotted a magazine in, I hoist it up over my shoulders in a fireman carry, and head out towards the other upper-level exit to the building. Not the one that leads to the walkway overlooking the lane, but the one that connects to a balcony facing the courtyard.


    Passing through a small alcove area on my way, I emerge back into daylight, aware that the camera may just have shifted to me, depending on whether they’ve got camera feeds inside of the buildings or not. I did consider having some kind of holo-banner to activate once we entered the arena, but ultimately, there didn’t seem to be anything worth saying that would justify such a crass stunt. Unpredictability is one thing, but being random for random’s sake veers more into Bret territory, which is somewhere I’d much rather avoid.


    As soon as I peer down the rifle’s scope, the feeling of all those eyes on me disappears. With magnification at minimum, I scan the courtyard, less looking for enemies and more getting a sense of the terrain. When I look up, however, it’s to see a small, keyhole view into the enemy’s building, straight through the same doorway that I just walked out of, in our building. The lighting is poor, but the rifle’s scope can pick up heat signatures, and I see flashes of movement- too far away for me to hit anybody, and firing would only give me away. Instead, I just watch.


    By the look of things- and admittedly, I’m not seeing very much -members of the Ox Unit appear to be having some sort of argument. Without a remote mic, I can’t hear anything, but I see somebody walk past the doorway and throw their hands up in frustration. The thermal silhouette is blurry, and I’m probably just seeing what I want to see, but based on their gait, it looks like it might be Tellis. Which means, if I’m right, that our little psyop plan worked. At least one person seems to be refusing outright to cooperate in whatever his plan for this battle is, and if we’re lucky, that could be enough to turn the odds in our favor. Or, if not, at least provide us with a bit of an edge.


    While I’m watching, though, I see somebody start to head through the doorway, towards me, and hurriedly flip down the cap on my scope, to prevent the glint of the sun off its reflective lens from giving me away. Not that I’m exactly hidden, here, crouched on an exposed balcony. Whoever it is, they’re probably just looking to get the lay of the land, but if they see me, I’m sure they won’t be able to resist taking a shot at the enemy commander. And, clever as I might be, there’s really nothing preventing a lucky shot from taking me out before the battle has really even started. So I grab the rifle by its center, and hurry back inside the building before they spot me.


    Thankfully, the traps my team set up are calibrated only to activate when they detect someone who isn’t a member of our unit, else I’d have tripped several of them just on my way back in. When I get in, though, most of the other Gazelles are already gone. Several of them are going to be playing defense, helping keep this point secure, while others are going to scope out the enemy base. Sofie, however, has struck out on her own, intending to run down her hunch from earlier, which I suspect involves some of the secret passages we’re assuming must exist around this battlefield. Finding them will be harder without tech like what Hark’s unit used, but if anybody among my Gazelles can do it, I’m sure it’s her.


    Accessing my tactical suite, I cycle rapidly through several different perspectives. Ada is in the back corner at the end of our alleyway, ready to gun down anybody she spots trying to sneak into our base, with a gravity snare positioned to trap them so she won’t have to worry about hitting a moving target, something she’s struggled with in training before. Kat, her heartbeat slightly erratic, is on our side of a narrow passageway at the north side of the courtyard, beneath where the middle control point is located, which provides a perfect avenue for crossing the divide between their side and ours, and infiltrating our base from the front-facing side, without having to cross the highly exposed courtyard. There beside her is Grant, providing both fire support, and a calming presence, which I suspect is the main reason why she hasn’t worked herself up into a panic attack yet.


    Movement, Amalia informs me, voice sharp, and I snap to her perspective immediately. She’s looking through binoculars at the enemy’s lane, from a vantage point above our own, which gives her a narrow angle on the other side through a gap in the barrier to the control point.


    Through that gap, she- and I through her -sees an enemy force, moving fast. A quick headcount gives me five, and though I can’t immediately identify four of them, I know who they are. All the members of the Ox Unit’s combat team, save for Fabian Vasile and Hudson, who must have refused to participate in this frontal assault because of the fabricated tape we ‘leaked’ to them. The fifth is easily, immediately identifiable by her cherry-read armor, which unlike what the others wear, covers her entire body, because it’s quite literally attached. Emilia Heinonen. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    I run a cost-benefit calculus in my head, but it’s a quick one. They’re making a play for the central control point, ownership of which will likely determine the outcome of this entire fight. If we let them take it now, it’ll only become harder to wrest from them. Our best bet is to meet them head-on and hope that we can win. Losing Hudson and Vasile hurts them somewhat, but clearly not enough to call the whole attack off. Still, I don’t really see any option except to meet them in kind.


    Niko. Go for it.


    As I transmit that order- on the public channel, so everybody knows what’s going on -Amalia asks me permission to do something, not with words, but rather by simply sending me the image of what she wants to do, with the mental equivalent of a question mark attached. I reply with immediate confirmation.


    Still watching from her perspective, I see her put the binoculars down, pull one of Nikitha’s psychoactive grenades from her belt, and lob it through the gap she was peering through, to land directly in the center of the control point. It detonates just as the Oxen are entering, and appears to hit at least one of them head-on, though it’s not easy to see through the haze of iridescent, multicolored gas. Through the indistinct shouting, I hear an order to pull back, and it seems as though the rest of them are able to escape the brunt of the effects.


    Inoculated from the drug’s effects, Niko’s team moves in, and doesn’t hesitate to fire on the unfortunate Ox who got hit with the full force of the drug. Being shot to death while tripping balls has to be an intensely weird experience, and I almost regret that his last moments won’t be recorded by the brainband, because- trauma aside -it would probably be a fascinating memory.


    I swap to Niko’s perspective just in time to see him slap his hand to the beacon, activating it, and beginning the countdown to our total control of the zone. Which reminds me- I drop his perspective for a second, and glance at the counter in our main zone. It’s already in the seventies and swiftly climbing.


    A lot can happen on the battlefield in a few moments, as I’m reminded the moment I switch back to Niko’s point of view. The gas cloud is already almost entirely dispersed, and the Oxen are shooting their way into the control point. Naturally, my people are shooting back, but the strange thing is, their bullets don’t seem to be nearly as effective. None of them had time to swap in armor-piercing rounds, so their ordinary bullets are barely scratching Heinonen’s smooth metal chassis, but even the ones that hit the other Oxen and penetrate their weaker body armor seem to barely register.


    As I watch, Colleen sprays a larger Ox, who I think might be Chen Lu, with a hail of bullets from her SMG. Several of them clearly hit weak points in his armor and go through, but he doesn’t even flinch, just rushes her, ramming the blade attached to his rifle straight through her gut, then pulling the trigger, nearly cutting her in half with the resulting discharge.


    “Fall back!” Niko shouts. Out loud, not over the brainband- a deliberate choice, to make sure the Oxen hear him. They won’t follow my people as we retreat, not because of honor or anything like that, but because they know we’ve got to have our lane well-defended with traps, and pursuit would mean incurring needless losses, when they could instead fortify their position around the control point.


    Indeed, that’s what they immediately begin to do, as my Gazelles flee from the point, leaving behind not one but two bodies. The other must have fallen elsewhere during the skirmish- judging by the number of gas grenades on her belt, it seems to have been Nikitha. Unfortunate, but better to have lost her than one of our heavy hitters.


    What the fuck was that? Ibrahim asks the unit at large, as he limps back behind cover, bleeding from a gunshot wound to the leg. He’s close enough to where Kat and Grant are stationed that I decide to send the latter a silent order to go see to Ibrahim’s wounds, leaving the former alone for the time being. She’ll be fine- the Oxen don’t have enough people available for a second frontal assault right now.


    I don’t know, I answer honestly. Not the kind of thing you want to hear your commander saying under any circumstances, but it’s the truth. Seemed like they weren’t feeling any pain at all. And I don’t think they would have all shelled out for pain-editing bioware. Definitely not without us hearing about it.


    Surprisingly, it’s Sofie who pipes up, as the remains of the combat team tend to their wounded and head back down the lane, towards our building, to regroup. Niko must be directing them on a private channel, so as not to clog the main line while we work to figure out what the Oxen are up to.


    MacKenzie. Thea MacKenzie. One of their techies. They don’t seem to have a designated officer for that group, since it’s basically just her and Heinonen. Her specialty is drugs. Combat drugs, I mean. Could be that she whipped up a top-shelf painkiller, maybe with some other effects thrown in, so that they’d be able to take whatever we could dish out.


    Makes sense, Mars concurs. They seemed… unusually aggressive, too. Not enough that they acted stupid, just enough to give them a boost.


    Sounds like the most likely explanation. The upshot is, you all probably hurt them pretty badly back there, even if it didn’t seem like it. Couple of them could keel over in a minute or two, after their brain realizes their body is dying. Downside, we’re not gonna be able to take the point head-on with them juiced up like that, even if some of them do die. Tellis will already be sending in reinforcements to secure it as we speak.


    Silence reigns for a few moments after that. Back to using my own eyes, I pace back and forth inside of our building, alone save for Sander, who remains stoic and still.


    Okay, so what’s the plan? Bret asks, despite not having moved from his position ‘guarding’ the lower level of the building. He’s really more there to serve as a canary in the coal mine, alerting me to the enemy’s presence via his death.


    If he’s reinforcing the central point, it means their building is undefended right now. Niko, bring your team back in here, take a few minutes to patch up anybody who needs it, then get ready to mobilize for a stealth strike on their base from the alleyway.


    That seems to garner some enthusiasm. Slowly, the remaining members of the combat team pick themselves up and begin to head towards our building, while I continue to pace. My mind drifts to the commentators who, even now, must be discussing the events of this battle. Baxter Bryant, brimming with excitement over every victory and defeat. Arno Van Horn, dripping with contempt over every member of my unit, for their ignoble backgrounds or the disreputable line from which they come.


    Upon thinking about that, I find myself growing more motivated to win this fight. Not that I was particularly lacking in motivation before, but that was of the cold, calculating kind, not the burning-hot desire to prove wrong everybody who thinks I can’t succeed, shouldn’t succeed, because of where I come from. Who thinks that they’re better, or more important, than my parents, because they have some prestigious academic title, rather than being an ordinary farmer.


    My righteous anger is interrupted by Ada’s urgent call from over the brainband.


    I got someone! I got—


    The transmission cuts off abruptly, in the way that can only happen under one condition- if the person talking dies mid-sentence. Dropping my rifle, I run for the door leading to the small balcony overlooking the alleyway where Ada was stationed. As I run, I slide my combat knife out of its sheath, flipping the blade in my hand to point downwards.


    Two things jump out at me as I look down onto the alleyway. First, Ada’s corpse, blood and brains splattered across the floor of the arena. Second, her killer, still trapped in her gravity snare, holding a rifle with smoke still streaming from the barrel. He hasn’t noticed me, but my footsteps weren’t exactly silent as I tore through the hall connecting our building to this balcony. I’ve got seconds before Hudson swivels that gun up and shoots me too. So I vault over the railing and land directly atop him.


    With the help of the gravity snare, I tackle him to the ground, knocking the gun from his hands, and pinning one arm with my free hand, the other with my knee, as I plant a foot on his chest. He struggles, but the mine means he can barely lift his head off the ground, much less get out from underneath me. And before he can even make much of an effort, I jam my knife straight into his throat, and twist it to the side, blood spraying out as I sever the artery.


    In his death throes, Hudson spasms violently, nearly dislodging me despite the gravity mine, but it doesn’t take long before those spasms turn to twitches, which then turns to nothing as the life drains from his body. Rationally, we might know that dying is only temporary, but the animal in all of us is still terrified of it, and that part of the brain tends to take over in a situation like this.


    My guess is that being asked to take MacKenzie’s combat drug was the final straw for Hudson, after the recording we sent him, and he decided to strike out on his own instead of joining the charge. Unfortunately, he was able to take out one of my people in the process, but I think it was a worthwhile trade-off, considering his death has weakened the Oxen significantly more than losing Ada weakened us. That might be harsh, but it’s a simple fact. Her contribution to the battle was already made, for the most part, with her tech. Having her on the field or not isn’t gonna make much of a difference.


    Only after the gravity mine shuts off, battery exhausted, do I stand, wiping blood off my helmet’s visor. Suddenly aware that Hudson might not have come alone, I glance around for any sign of a second attacker, but find nothing. A moment later, I realize that Sander appeared behind me at some point, having dropped everything to follow me the moment I took off running. Good thing, too, because if there was someone else, they’d have had a solid window to shoot me- were it not for Sander covering my back.


    Ada’s down, I inform everybody, as I head back inside the building, wiping off the blade of my knife. Tai, I need you to cover the alleyway.


    It’s pretty unlikely there’ll be another attack there- Hudson seems to have been on an unauthorized solo mission -but I would be remiss not to plan for the possibility regardless. Besides, Tai isn’t doing much holed up inside of the building watching the cameras, which failed to see Hudson coming, so he may as well take up that post. And if crouching next to the corpse of his friend and colleague bothers him, it’ll be an incentive to position his cameras somewhere with fewer blind spots next time.


    When I return to the main room of our building, I see the combat unit gathered, those who were injured being tended to. My bloodsoaked armor draws their eyes, and I get a few approving nods from some of them. Our beacon now shows a nice, round 100%, meaning we officially control this zone. That means the Oxen control their corresponding one, while they can’t be much more than fifty percent to controlling the central zone. Still, they’re likely to have control of it for a decent chunk of time before my plan is complete and we’re ready to move on it again.


    “How soon til you can move out?” I ask Niko, removing my helmet for a moment to catch my breath.


    “Two, three minutes. Most of us aren’t hurt too bad.”


    The exception appears to be Ibrahim, but he looks determined not to let the tourniquet on his leg slow him down too much, judging by the way he grips his rifle, and the defiant look in his eyes when he meets mine.


    “Good. Tell me when you get going, I’ll cover you from the balcony.”


    Niko nods gratefully, and I head back up the stairs, opening a channel to Sofie.


    Any progress?


    Yeah. There’s this little alcove set up to look like a market on the left side of our lane, towards the entrance to the control point. Found a hidden door that leads to a narrow passage, which looks like it lets out at the very top of the map. Long story short, it’s got a perfect angle on the point. Probably not gonna fit more than two people through, though- the rest will have to go in the normal way.


    Got it. Thanks. Send me the exact location and head back, I need you here.


    Need me, huh? Sofie responds playfully, but she cuts the connection before I can respond. This isn’t the time for flirting, much as I might like it to be.


    While the combat team is gearing up for their mission, I pick my rifle back up and fiddle with the scope idly, waiting for them to be ready. In addition to the thermal filter, it’s got Ada’s radiation scanner built in, which I suspect should come in handy in the near future, as Niko’s team painted most of the enemy’s combat unit with their own rifles before they fled. So, should I feel the need, I’ll be able to see them through walls over a reasonably long distance, although this rifle isn’t quite powerful enough to shoot them through those walls, unless the Crucible team used much shoddier construction materials than usual.


    Before I can ponder that much further, though, I get another frantic transmission from one of my subordinates- Kat’s panicked voice is unmistakable.


    Um, I can see somebody coming down the hallway… they’re getting closer…


    What’s he look like? I ask sharply. It’s not Kat who responds but Grant, who maintains his composure as he describes the oncoming enemy.


    Lighting’s not great, so I didn’t see much, and he’s wearing armor, but he was definitely carrying two guns. SMGs, looked like.


    Definitely Vasile, then. He’s been trying to make the dual SMGs his ‘thing’ for weeks now- highly embarrassing.


    Okay. We can’t get anybody over there in time, so you two are gonna have to take him out on your own. Follow my instructions carefully and you’ll be fine.


    Both of them send me wordless pulses of confirmation, Kat’s a little less confident.


    First off, one of you needs to paint him with your targeting laser. It’s invisible, he won’t notice. Then, toss one of Nikitha’s ‘nades. It’ll disorient him. After that, you can use the scopes to ID him in the gas, and take him down. Got it?


    Got it, Grant replies firmly, before Kat has a chance to protest.


    Good. Report back when it’s done.


    It’s not inconceivable that Vasile could shoot his way out of an ambush like that, but not without getting hit at least once, and combined with the effects of Nikitha’s drug, he’ll likely be no threat even if he does make it past Grant and Kat. If he’s smart, he’d limp back to base, but if he decided to push on, he’d probably run afoul of one of the traps positioned around the entrances to our building, and blow himself up.


    None of that is especially likely, though. I have faith that Kat and Grant will be able to take him out, considering how many advantages they have- numbers, equipment, and the element of surprise. For now, I put that all out of my mind, rest the rifle on my shoulder, and head back out to the balcony overlooking the courtyard.


    As I do so, Niko and his team gets moving as well. Surprisingly, Ibrahim takes the lead, despite- or perhaps because of -his injury. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. He knows he’s a liability in his current state, so he volunteered to be the first person to get shot, so as to prevent anybody else from becoming incapacitated before him. Having to follow behind someone with a limp will slow them down, but that might actually be a good thing, since the idea is for them to enter unnoticed.


    It’s only after they’ve passed through the alley, past Tai, past the bodies of Ada and Hudson, that they slow down and keep low, using the minimal cover available to keep out of sight as they advance through the courtyard. Nobody’s watching on the other side right now- their attention is most likely focused on the central point, assuming we’re planning to mount an attack to recapture it, rather than striking at their well-defended home base. However, that assumption is about to be challenged.


    Um, we got him, Kat informs me nervously, without any of the pride you might expect to hear from someone who just took down an enemy soldier.


    Great work. Stay put for now.


    Gazing down the scope of my rifle, I turn my attention to the keyhole viewport through which I can see into the enemy’s building. Switching to thermals, I see one large, stout signature pop up, belonging to somebody who clearly doesn’t belong on the battlefield. Though I can’t be certain, seeing only a vague outline, I feel fairly confident in guessing that it’s Sovann Keo, a member of the Oxen with virtually no useful skills in terms of what we do here at the Citadel.


    Keo’s Founder was the Imperium’s first Education Secretary, an important figure whose basic curriculum is still in use to this day, albeit with some significant modifications to accommodate for the times we now live in. However, he’s among a relatively small group of Founders who had no role of note in the War of Conquest whatsoever, and therefore no useful skills to pass down in that field. So I almost feel bad for lining Keo’s head up in my sights, and blowing his brains out.


    The gunshot rings out with an unmistakable crack, and I see the stout body crumple, suddenly headless. Several members of Niko’s team look around, startled, assuming the shot came from the other side. Moments later, someone comes running down the hallway to the balcony on the other side of the courtyard- one of the Oxen, a woman, who glances around wildly. She’s not wearing her helmet, which is rather foolish considering I just shot somebody’s head off, but based on her expression, she’s in shock, not thinking straight. I recognize her as Lauren, the Ox Unit’s analyst.


    As Lauren scans the courtyard frantically, the first thing she sees is me, smirking as smoke pours from my rifle’s barrel. The second thing she sees is Ibrahim, halfway between two cover points, moving slowly thanks to his limp. As soon as he realizes he’s been spotted, he turns and points his rifle at her, letting loose a spray of bullets, most of which are absorbed by the balcony, the rest of which go wild. Hardly his fault- he was in a bad position, and she was some distance away. but it galvanizes the rest of the team, all of whom follow suit, a moment too late to hit her as she turns to flee back into the building, but early enough that she knows they’re all there.


    Shit! They made us! What the hell did you do that for? Mars asks of me, incensed. He’s got every right to be. I did just deliberately give them away, after all.


    Part of the plan, I reply coolly. Just keep moving, you’ll understand soon.


    Though they don’t exactly seem thrilled, the team does as I instruct, continuing hastily through the courtyard and into the alleyway on the other side, now unconcerned about being spotted.


    As my Gazelles do that, the Ox combat team is in motion as well. I can see them through my scope, a cluster of distant radiation signatures, only distinct enough to be visible because they’re all bunched together, hurrying across the battlefield to return to their unit’s home base. As soon as she saw that we had our people sneaking towards their building, Lauren must have alerted Tellis, who then ordered his people to return and defend the point. Exactly as I expected they would.


    Um, Kat says, I just saw a bunch of people run past on the other end of the hall… should we have tried to stop them?


    Nah, don’t worry about it, I answer, unable to keep some amusement out of my tone, even over the brainband. The rifle’s weight in my hands feels solid, balanced. It feels right. I feel right, as the satisfying rush of putting a plan into motion runs through my veins.


    It takes a long several seconds for the Ox team to get back to their base, and I actually have to send Niko’s team a wordless message to slow down, lest they get closer to the building than they actually need to be for this to work. If they get spotted actually retreating, it’ll fuck the whole thing up, but I don’t want them inside either.


    Finally, I see the radiation signatures of the combat team- now close enough that I can count four of them -enter the building where the control point is located. A grin creeps across my face, as I open a brainband channel to Valent.


    Bring the house down.


    Four seconds later, the entire building collapses.


    The Crucible construction team is a talented group, there’s no doubt about that. They set this whole arena up in just one day. And the tech they use to make that possible is certainly impressive. But it’s just not possible to pull something like that off without cutting a few corners. And the obvious spot to do that is in the buildings themselves, because it takes far too long to establish solid foundations for even a relatively small building. The kind of foundations you’d need, say, to prevent a couple of shaped charges, positioned in the exact right spots, from bringing the entire thing down.


    When I told Valent about the plan- and only him, because I love me a good reveal -all he said was that he could pull it off. No details, no elaboration, just total confidence. His Noble line’s title is Conjuror, because he makes magic happen. And right now, I’m more than happy not to question how he does it.


    In an instant, all four of those radiation signatures go dark, bodies buried under several tons of concrete and metal. The building itself was well-constructed, but if you build something on a bad foundation, it’s bound to fall apart on you. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, but right now I’m too high on my own success to draw it out properly.


    Though my plan might have worked, it doesn’t mean we’re guaranteed to win. The Ox Unit’s primary control beacon is still active, even buried under all that rubble, and now we’ve got no way of claiming it. Now everything hinges on us being able to capture the central beacon and hold it for longer than they have. But with their forces largely wiped out, and their leadership eliminated as well, I’d say our odds are pretty good.


    All of you, double-time it to the central point, now, I order the combat team, shouldering the rifle and standing up to head back into the building. Grant, Kat, I want you to take Sofie’s secret passage and sneak around to flank them. She’ll give you the coordinAAAHFUCK—


    The connection ends automatically, as it’s programmed to do when one party loses control of their ability to regulate the transfer, so as to avoid someone screaming in pain over the brainband, in shock and unable to stop, psychically deafening everybody they were connected to. And that’s most definitely the state I’m in right now, as a knife from out of nowhere slides between my ribs.


    A second later, the cold, sharp pain becomes almost an afterthought, as an unfathomably loud screech begins emitting from the handle of the very knife stuck in me. I feel my eardrums burst, and my entire world goes white, pure pain lighting up every nerve ending. The rifle clatters from my hands, and I drop to my knees. Hands flying to my ears as I scream inaudibly, drowned out entirely by the sonic assault.


    Distantly, already in shock, I feel the knife slide back out of me, in preparation for a killing blow. Digging my nails into my palm, I force my eyes open, unwilling to face death blind. Looking up, I see the cold black eyes of Anand, the assassination specialist. There’s none of the warmth or friendliness from when we met the other day in her expression, just determination to get the job done. It might be too late- Tellis and the majority of her unit’s best fighters are dead. But she can still cut the head off of the snake- or the Gazelle, as the case may be.


    Stupid as it sounds, that ‘joke’ clears my head just slightly, and as she draws the knife back to cut my throat, I jam the tip of my tail into her gut, as deep as it will go. Anand gasps with pain, but her grip on the knife doesn’t falter, and I resign myself to failure, feeling just a bit better for having fought back before the end.


    With the force of a freight train, Sander charges into the assassin, shoulder-checking her straight into the wall of the narrow corridor. Hefting his shotgun, he blows a massive hole through her chest, spraying the wall with blood and viscera. Then, showing no signs of discomfort despite the ear-splitting noise, he grabs the knife out of her hand and crushes the handle in one massive fist, mercifully ending the sonic assault.


    If he says anything, I don’t hear it. My eyes close, and I feel him lifting me up. As an afterthought before I black out completely, I yank the tip of my tail out of Anand’s gut, and let darkness take me.


    Unfortunately, my respite lasts about a minute before the pain returns, and awareness with it. When I open my eyes, Sander and Sofie are peering down at me, looking concerned. or at least Sofie is. Sander looks as impassive as ever, as he applies healing gel to my chest wound.


    Don’t try to move, Sofie tells me, not bothering to speak out loud, since I wouldn’t be able to hear a word of it.


    Did she get anybody else? I ask weakly


    Just Bret.


    Good.


    We share a chuckle at that, but I do so out loud, too delirious from the pain to stop myself, and the process makes the pain flare up, causing me to wince and close my eyes. Sofie places a hand on my cheek, and in the back of my head, alarm bells go off, as I realize there could be cameras in here- the entire Imperium could be watching this. But I’m in too much pain to protest, so I let her caress me gently and hope that my line’s reputation as fearsome and deadly isn’t going straight down the drain.


    Thinking about that brings my mind back to the plan to take the enemy’s base down, and then to the attack, at which point I abruptly realize it must be commencing while I lie here. Filled with a sudden sense of anxiety, I try to sit up, and pain wracks my body again, forcing me to lie back down, cursing my own weakness. I’m supposed to be better than this, aren’t I? What good am I as a leader if I can get laid out by a single stab wound and some burst eardrums?


    For a moment, I consider activating my Midnight implant, so that it might dull the pain, but I dismiss the idea. There’s not much I could do to impact the outcome of the fight either way right now, so all the drug would accomplish is burying the tender feeling of being in Sofie’s arms.


    The attack, I ask eventually. Is it—


    Going fine, Sofie assures me. Just rest.


    Instead of heeding her advice, I close my eyes and access the tactical suite. Nobody seems to have died since I last checked, which seems like a good sign, so I access Mars’ feed.


    Instantly, I’m grateful that I don’t share pain with whoever I’m looking through the eyes of, because feeling like I’ve got a spear through my shoulder on top of everything else would be too much.


    The spear seems to belong to a member of the Ox combat team I immediately recognize by his distinctive braided teal beard. Geghard Bedrosian. His Founder was first famous for being a pioneering explorer, though he made a name for himself during the war, as well. Whether or not that fully explains the spear, I’m not sure, but he’s clearly good with the thing, considering he’s got it rammed through Mars’ shoulder right now.


    As I watch, Mars, who seems to have lost his gun at some point, grabs the shaft of the spear with both hands, and snaps it in half. How he could have achieved that, when it’s clearly metal, escapes me for a moment. Then I look closer, and realize it must have been a collapsible spear, which is really the only way Bedrosian could have carried it around while also carrying a gun. That means he snapped off one of the hollow parts that extended out when the spear was fully deployed.


    With one of his hands still on the end of the spear that’s not lodged in him, Mars wrenches it from Bedrosian’s grip, flips it around, and with a single deadly thrust, rams the jagged end into his throat. The bearded man staggers back, crimson staining his striking teal facial hair, then collapses.


    Mars grasps the spear-point stuck in his shoulder and pushes it out, bringing the narrow shaft through his wound, rather than risking it widening by pulling the tip back out. Nevertheless, it’s clearly painful, and he’s probably got metal fragments inside of him now. Casting the broken weapon aside, he grabs a gun, and heads straight back into the fight.


    Satisfied with his performance, I change to Grant’s perspective. He’s in the hidden passage Sofie found, right behind a corner that seems to lead out into the open, where he and Kat will have the perfect angle to open fire on the Oxen. Just as I’m getting ready to open a line to them and give the order, they do exactly that, bursting out with rifles at the ready.


    The two of them don’t just open fire indiscriminately, though. They target one Oxen in particular- Heinonen, who seems to be fighting off both Niko and Ibrahim at once, in close quarters, their blades glancing off of her sleek red armor. Using Ada’s armor-piercing rounds, Grant and Kat punch through that armor and drop her in a matter of seconds, narrowly avoiding hitting their own allies in the process. Niko glances back, waves to them, and then picks his next target and charges.


    After that, the battle doesn’t last much longer. Bedrosian and Heinonen were the only real fighters left who didn’t get caught in my trap with the collapsing building, and everybody else reinforcing the point seems to have been from the Ox Unit’s intelligence team. I see Nandor Pal, his blue skin marred by splotches of deep red. Even Valentin Gardinier, their intelligence officer, goes down when Amalia, Valent, and Tai gang up on him.


    The presence of those three means that our base is now undefended save for Sofie and Sander, but I’m not worried about it. Even if there are any Oxen left alive, they must be scattered, with no commander to give orders. Any attempt to retake either point for them would be suicide. As Niko claims the central beacon, all we have to do now is wait.


    So wait we do. The combat team sets up some basic fortifications around the point, which mainly consists of taking the defenses the Oxen had already established, and flipping them around to face the other direction. A few of them split off and head back to base, just in case, but a second attack never comes.


    There must be at least one Ox left alive, because the match doesn’t end immediately. They must have realized their chances of victory are nil and surrendered, though, because the moment that the display on the central beacon hits 100%, an announcement goes out over the brainband, the voice of the Dean. All he says is:


    Victory goes to the Gazelle Unit, and Commander Izanami!


    Lying on my back with a stab wound, in the arms of a woman I think I’m starting to fall for, I smile.