“Dad, are sha sure about this?”

  The Village Hall was built from an old Aircraft Hangar built here by the Godlikes, four hundred years ago. The aircrafts within, the whirligigs and drakes, had all been dismantled long ago. The towering fifty meter rectangular structure, lined with thick corrugated steel once painted beige but now faded to the underlying material, had been expanded, the hangar doors kept permanently opened as the orcans raised a deck and overhang that acted as a gathering area, often packed with food stalls and touts, before the more serious business was conducted inside the ancient lug.

  Zahul had brought Zhakkathan along with him, where he now was sat with Klamant Ipkil, the Ethereal Chain Master of Rothera, pretty much playing the same role as Aker-wungh on San Martin, facilitating trades on the ethereal chains, and Zahul was about to stake the Defiant as collateral for a great sum of bit, and some of the lesser traded ethereal coins.

  “Aye, bit always goes up like Melloh said. We can pocket the profit.”

  “Dad! Sha can’t be sure of that!”

  It was the only way. He needed to go back to San Martin and investigate the two rogue traders, the scimitar wielding glob who put pressurized vaporous nitrogen to his face and froze Zahul’s eyelids shut, and that elf trafficker who got away on her drake. To get time away from work, Zahul needed more hired help, plus the kroozer, well- she was in dire need of upgrade and repair anyway. He needed the coin. If he wanted the members of his family to keep eating, while still affording the time to seek the missing one, he needed Melloh to take charge of the Defiant, hired some extra help, and yes, finally pay them fair and decent wages, instead of roping in old comrades for a below market rate cut.

  Zahul knew that the trafficker could not have gone void borne, that creature she and his dear Githie rode away on was far too small. Githarie had to be on Reath still.

  There was still hope.

  But it had been well past twenty-four hours since her capture.

  Zahul wrinkled up his face with misery. He looked away from his son and spoke softly,

  “Dinnae have any other choice.”

  Zhak cast his head down. He hoped his family wasn’t going to be ruined by this.

  But he had to agree. They had to get Githarie back.

  Any amount of empyreal bit would be worth it to get Githarie back.

  “Aye!”, Klamant, sensing imminent and great profit, licked his tusks and said, “So, War Master, plannin’ a leveraged perpetual future with this loan? Happy to help sha with that. Me orderbook is brimmin’ with all sortsa instrumenties ye mighta be innerested in.”

  Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Why not. Lok Tar.”

  “Dad! Shanna ‘ford to gamble! We could get rekt!”, Zhak whined.

  He patted his son on the head, “Or make some nazge lucre.”

  Well, Zhak liked the sound of that.

  “Wait, wait- but what if- agh I know sha say it won’t, but… what if the markets dip though?” He had his mother’s concern.

  “Hypotheticals, son, hypotheticals. Hasn’t happened yet, so cannae answer. No facts, all in sha head.”

  “It’s not facts, but it’s an educated guess.”

  “Aye nakaz Zhakky, sha smart, but sha ain’t gonna predict the future. Wu atul can. No risk, no reward. Now let’s buy some perps, eh?”

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  Prices were crabbing, so buying a perpetual future option was an extreme risk. Melloh would scold him for not doing it earlier, during the ramp up.

  But Zahul had no wealth on the ethereal chains to begin with.

  That’s why he needed a loan.

  Zhak had already tapped the command line for the trade protocol, “Right, Dad.”

  “Just drop a hunnerd leveraged option, mebbe an eth or two?”

  “Dad, one hundred times leverage? That’s too risky!”

  “Just pull it out after a nice nakaz pump.”

  “Daddy, I don’t want to be staring at the pipboi all rote, now sha gotta make me-”

  “Quit complainin’ boy, an’ do what sha Dad tells ya.”

  “Right. I-”

  He couldn’t finish.

  BOOM!

  All during Zhak’s hesitations, a bunch of San Martin bois, seeking to counterattack after the raid on their home, had sailed far to the other side of Adelaide Island, marched through the shadows of underbrush and planted trees, to reach the inland facing side of the village, which they promptly began to shoot at with bazookas.

  “Attack! Attack!” Someone hit the raid siren, and it began to wail across Rothera.

  As Zahul and Zhak were sitting in the village hall, where many an orcan were milling about going about their rote-to-rote business of minor bureaucratic tasks. There was a great bulk of the village population all there, and the armory was not far off. Zhennie, representing Raigo, busted in and urged them all to arms.

  Zahul threw Zhak upon his shoulders, rushed out of the hall, and ordered him to head to the library and stay safe with Meldy, while he attended to his job as War Master.

  “Listen boi, sha keep safe inside with Meldy aye? I’ll come back for sha, when this ugly business is done.

  “Aye! Aye! Follow me!” he roared, and quickly, Zhennie and the crowd she gathered followed their War Master.

  Hitting the armory, Zahul grabbed a worn out, broken down, much used armalite, retrieved from the arms collection of an old, dead Godlike. It was made for civilian use, so it was semi-automatic only. Close behind him was Klamant, who hoped that by staying close to the War Master, it would keep him safe.

  Far across from the rallying defense was, of course, the offense.

  There were four of them. Nunger, Krami, Frugruel, and Lurlyn.

  Nunger yelled, “On me, atul!” He threw one knee down, peered through the targeting reticle, and pulled the trigger. A missile streaked out, after a staccato hiss of rocket exhaust shot from the back of the bazooka. It struck the stony walls and shattered through to the earthen rampart, erupting a cloud of dirt. Zahul winced, vigilant against blinding, for how dearly that had cost him last time. Spat out a clod. Zahul grabbed Klamant dived for cover under what remained.

  Slinging his rifle across his chest and over his shoulder, Zahul found his mark – they were slotting in another rocket – gauged the angle for the trick shot and-

  Klamant coughed, choking from the dust still caked all over his wide-open mouth as he screamed during the blast, and completely ruined his aim.

  Zahul harshly exhaled in frustration, grit his teeth, and-

  Pop. Pop.

  Nunger took two in the shoulder and flailed to the ground, grievously injured, but-

  Frugruel threw up his long barreled twelve-gauge and returned fire.

  BLAM!

  Zahul was lucky that Frugruel had not loaded up a slug, and a great deal of skin was shredded by the ricocheting gravel pellet buckshot, but he had rolled to the side just in time, pushing Klamant completely out of harm’s path.

  And then, that dreaded hum.

  A whirligig. They sent shivers down the spine of any ground infantry.

  Pushing their butts deeper into the mound remnant just to dig a little deeper, away from the gunfire that soared over their heads, Zahul and Klamant froze in terror as they saw the four spinning propellers, hovering just twenty meters above, and the unmistakable bulge of explosives loaded underneath. Klamant closed his eyes. This was the end.

  He was not the first to assume this.

  He cleared taking the loan with Gnosta, like a good husband ought to, and given the extraordinarily different circumstances they found themselves in compared to recording one, she gave her blessing. They had no choice. It was either that or abandon Githarie. And abandoning Githarie was no choice at all. What he didn’t tell her was that he would then go ahead and immediately use the loan to buy a perp. Degenerate gambling. What he also didn’t tell her was that he was using the Defiant as collateral, to take the loan. Ai-sha.

  There is always a choice. But that is the problem. Condemned to be free.

  His family would be ruined by this.

  Zahul was an Aries, and this was giving very Aries energy. Not that we spirits believe in any of that pseudo-magickal astrology nonsense. Just a coincidence.

  But they were hypotheticals that would become true.

  He was attempting to predict the future right now by assuming that the prices would go up.

  Mined minerals in Orca were, for the time being, almost always traded to elvans. Orcans preferred using stone to build their abodes, far more insulating than conductive metals. In peace, there wasn’t too much need to forge arms. This was all changing though, because of Princess Senjya’s Phase One.