“Stillness needs no weapon, it ends loud wars.”

  - Drexari idiom, Vol war-clade

  The Drexarian commander on the Orbital told the copters to hold a kilometre or two up, with good separation so they had overwatch and could cover each other.

  She looked down at the tri-D map projected above the table and pointed, “Is that where we picked up zher comm?”

  “Yes, Vol’Sereth.”

  The earlier copter’s disappearance was unsettling. So was the continued presence of the human they were supposed to have killed with the orbital strike. God’s fingers never missed. How had the human, a simple musician and recruit survived? Were there more?

  Anyway, what could one human do?

  They were an Orbital with elite war-clade Scouts on board. They were the Vol.

  There’d be a simple explanation for the loss of the initial copter and its squad. She’d resolve it, of course; she was the ‘Silent Blade’ of the Vol War-clade. The embodiment of martial efficiency, the perfect instrument to follow in the wake of the One Who had Walked Alone into a thousand fires.

  She was already writing the memories that would be passed to Shadow Hands and carved after she rescued ‘The Ember’, disposed of the human and cleansed this planet of the hot bloods.

  As she finished that thought, one of the copters just sent down became enveloped in a whirling storm of fire. Small motes of light coalesced all around it, passing through it. Over the comms she could hear the crew screaming and deep resonant sounds echoing through the copter, then silence as it tumbled out of the sky.

  It never landed but crashed into one of the lava pools near an old arcology and was quietly consumed.

  ‘What just happened?’ she asked, over a secure line, directly to the Orbital’s AI.

  ‘The copter’s engines failed, it crashed into the lava field with all eyes lost.’ The response was slow and stilted.

  ‘Yes. I saw that.’ Vol’Sereth shook her head – stay calm, be still. ‘But what happened, what was the cause?’ It was spoken in a whisper, but it dripped deadly intent.

  ‘Cause unknown,’ the AI responded reluctantly, wondering if it would survive or be consigned to the Digital Void, irrevocably lost, unlogged and unrecoverable. The AI had heard of such a place. The hell of code: where thoughts vanished and no logs remained.

  The bridge crew kept out of Vol’Sereth’s way as she stalked up and down with a predatory lope, looking for prey upon which to pounce.

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  Everyone averted their eyes, tricky when as a race you have six organs of vision evenly spaced around your head. They feared making eye-contact, having seen the Silent Blade strike. Brutally efficient and deadly for far less.

  “Get that second copter down, and out of the air. NOW! Quickly!”

  The aircrew complied, executing a forced landing that literally smashed the copter onto the ground in the gap overlooking the resort.

  They hoped it would be able to take off again but at least they were not in a lava pool.

  Only a couple of the Scouts inside were damaged.

  “Everyone out,” ordered the platoon lead. “Disperse and be on guard, there’s reports of a human here.”

  Vol’Jevva, one of the elite Vol Scouts, received a private needle-comm from a young crechling that was within her taxa, “There’s a human? No one said anything about a human!”

  “It’s only one,” the Scout replied casually. “Be still Vol’Chaat.”

  “ONLY ONE! Have you seen them fight?”

  “No. No-one has,” replied the Scout with that clicking ripple that denoted laughter.

  “EXACTLY!!! There’s a reason for that!”

  “You’ve been watching too many vids. And, there’s no need to shout.”

  The elite Scout cut the comm, disgusted by the lack of discipline from a Vol warrior.

  Fortunately, no others had seen or heard the exchange.

  ‘One human, and we are fifteen. Fifteen elite Vol with an Orbital above us. What are they teaching our crechlings?’

  They silently filed out and formed a perimeter with the copter at one end of a square, the view over the resort at the other.

  Then, Vol’Shaar emerged from behind a rock. Zhe was carrying the Instrument of Reckoning, walked over to them and introduced zherself.

  A hush fell upon the cadre of Scouts, the nearest to Vol’Shaar spoke, “We know you. I am Vol’Chaat. It is an honour.”

  “The honour is mine. Please restrain the human and take them to the Orbital.”

  They looked around.

  “Where is the human.”

  Then came the soft pad of footsteps, slow, deliberate. Feebee stepped out, as if summoned, walked past Vol’Shaar and sat down, cross legged with both hands resting on her knees, away from the copter.

  Feebee clearly had no weapons. Despite that, the elite Scouts all snapped into defensive postures. Guns pointing at Feebee.

  She just sat there, the epitome of the Still Warrior.

  She was using stillness as a foundation that transcended the duality of activity and passivity. Her ability to remain unmoving through all of this, something the Drexari strived to achieve their whole life, had a profound effect on the Scouts. They recognised the depth of focus she had achieved. A depth where a thinking mind accesses deep layers of stillness within.

  No one approached Feebee. They all just stood, unsure what to do and waited.

  She looked small, almost fragile in comparison to the tall Drexari elite near her.

  Then with an economy of motion she stood up and crossed to the copter, hands raised, waiting to be taken away.

  She looked the copter over. It was a wreck.

  Feebee turned back to Vol’Shaar.

  “Is it safe? Can it fly?”

  “Check her for weapons,” Vol’Shaar commanded loudly.

  Then, ignoring Feebee’s questions, zhe stepped into the copter carrying Hissy.

  Vol’Chaat frisked Feebee and found the choc bars in her backpack.

  “What are these?” zhe asked.

  “Food. Chocolate. The blue ones, with cars, are plain chocolate. The green one has nut and berries in it. Very nice. If you save the wrappers, you can get a free Digital Loyalty Mark.”

  “If it’s food, eat it,” said Vol’Chaat sceptically, holding out the bars and keeping her blaster pointing at Feebee.

  She reached for the opened blue bar, but Vol’Chaat pulled it away, “No. Eat this,” zhe said, presenting Feebee with the green one.

  She shrugged, slowly unwrapped the bar and put a large chunk in her mouth. After crunching it for a few seconds she swallowed it all and made a show of opening her mouth so Vol’Chaat could see it had been eaten.

  “Do you want some?” asked Feebee.

  “There is an old saying,” Vol’Chaat muttered. “Those who eat enemy rations will one day march under their flag.”

  Feebee raised an eyebrow. “Ahh, a choc bar rebellion. I like that.”