“Astrostorms have been around for longer than anything, or anyone, has existed.

Although unsure, scientists hypothesise that Astrostorms are complexly charged clouds of electricity and matter, the ‘Gates’ acting as a collection point and vacuum for all energy in the surrounding area. Which would explain why most farers lose power to their ships and vessels when nearing an active storm.

This ‘stolen’ energy is collected into what appears to be vortexes called ‘Astrogates’. Once a Gate closes, the energy dissipates. [See Doctor Vici Obsole's dissertation: ‘Portals or Pressure Valves, a chilling new look on Astrostorms.’]

Other schools of thought debate their meaning and existence, not just scientists. Religious groups and movements that predate any scientist, believe them to be the work of The Void Gods, or other powerful, ancient beings. While some races believe them to be cursed works of evil, and others believe them to be the sacred Gates that potentially lead into other worlds, there is one thing that everyone can agree on:

Astrostorms are dangerous. And survival from them is rare.”

–Official description of an Astrostorm from ‘Of all Void Dangers’, courtesy of the Imperial Research Guild.

[more articles: ‘Sirens: What To Do and How to Fight Back.’ ~ ‘Dangerous Neburay Behaviour To Look Out For In the Knorvainian Starway.’ ~‘Yddr'ak Words To Know When…]

Evren

Lewis clearly had not been out of the Port for a very long time.

As we passed the Upper Levels of Lisk–taking a few of the back alleys that lead to the service ramps outside–he only became more and more nervous.

“Evren, I think we should go back,” he whispered for the third time, looking behind him as we stepped off the service stairs and onto hard ground again.

I patted his metal arm.

“Look, you’re doing really good. Just one more level, and then you can stop being nervous.”

Lewis moved his arm away from where I had touched him, somewhat appalled.

“I am not nervous. I am just… wary.”

I nodded matter-of-factly, silently ‘agreeing with him’ as we crossed the shuttle let-out that neighbored the stairs we'd just taken.

The day had already started without us, and the midmorning sun tried to shine blearily from behind the Liskian Ranges. The air was still cool as it breezed into this level, making me miss the warm, dusty Power Relay that I usually slept on.

Last night on the ramp it had been cold, and I was still bitter about being made to sleep outside. Again.

Jogging ahead, I poked my head around a corner to examine the crummy street. It was fairly busy with morning errands run by people who looked like they wanted to be back in bed, so I was glad nothing was out of the ordinary.

I pursed my lips as I thought carefully about what I was about to do– that, itself, was out of the ordinary, so it took a little longer to organise my thoughts.

We might not be recognized–if Lewis kept his non-existent mouth shut and I didn’t steal anymore mech arms that is.

I mean, could Kovals' have told everyone that their mechscrubber stole a Bot part? I didn’t think so–but then again, most of the time I didn’t think, so it wasn’t a great selling point of assurance.

Turning back to beckon Lewis forward, I found that the Bot was preoccupied with searching fervently behind him, yet again.

I dropped my head in resignation, rubbing my temples and displacing my hat with the action.

This was never gonna work.

Straightening my hat and walking back to Lewis, I pulled him to the side of the shuttle bay as a few people passed us to board the hovering vehicle nearby.

“Look–this isn’t going to work if you can’t at least pretend to be normal,” I said.

“I am normal–” Lewis interrupted.

“No”–I interrupted his interruption–“you’re one more nervous glance away from getting us arrested for suspicious behaviour!” I whispered forcefully. “Why did you want to come down here if it makes you so uncomfortable?”

Lewis blinked.

“Because–” he started unenthusiastically, “this is my arm. I want to help.”

I wasn’t convinced, and my expression must have said so.

After a moment of blatantly staring at him in unbelieving silence, Lewis looked away, giving in to some unknown emotion as he started babbling to the ceiling.

“Okay–okay. Fine. You got me. It's true. Fine.” He was still gazing up at the ceiling. “I didn't want Kovals' to find you. So I thought… I would come… to help.”

I gasped, putting a hand on his arm.

“Lewis–” I said in mock seriousness, “be careful there, buddy. It almost looks like you might care about my existence.”

Lewis brushed my hand off his arm. He hated being touched, no matter what kind of moment he was in.

“Never mind that,” he said, somewhat annoyed. “But you are correct, my demeanour might draw… unwanted attention.”

I frowned at him. “Why were you programmed to be so anxious, anyway?”

Lewis blinked a few times. “I wasn’t ‘programmed’ to be anxious,” he retorted testily. “I am a self-teaching, self-learning, self-charging Bot.” He raised his finger like he was a teacher in a school. “Seventy eight percent of all Servant Bots are given learning experiences at creation which programs them to certain things. But twenty two percent still retain the ability to teach themselves new programs. I am of that small percentage.”

“So why the hell d’you program yourself to be nervous?” was my obvious question.

“I didn’t, it just happened!” Unsurprisingly, Lewis’s momentarily calm demeanour slipped away. “Besides, being nervous has saved me on multiple occasions.”

I rubbed my eyes, sighing. I guess if anyone has the right to be paranoid, the one-armed Bot did, right?

“Can you at least try to blend in?” I asked in a pained tone.

Lewis gestured to himself a few times. “I’m a one-armed, seven-foot-tall Servant Bot with the words Tri-Dock 61 written on my shoulder plate. How exactly do you want me to blend in?”

I looked up at the scrawlings on said shoulder plate, making a noise of realisation. “Ohhhhh, so that’s what it says…”

Attempting to think quickly, I grabbed my bag out from under my poncho where I had tied the Bot arm to the strap to hide it. Pulling out one of my greatest treasures from the ratty bag, I held it up for Lewis to inspect.

“String?” he said, his glowing blue eyes unimpressed.

I gestured to the floor. “Yes, string. Now kneel down so I can reach your arm.”

To Lewis’s credit, he did so promptly, and I quickly wrapped the gray cord around the scribbled letters on his shoulder plate, obscuring the shiny, metallic paint with fraying, tattered string.

“There,” I announced with pride, “now you’re just like everybody else.” I finished off the string in a blatantly ugly, so-obviously-done-wrong bow and gave Lewis a smug look of satisfaction.

Aha! Yet another problem thwarted by my cunning intellect.

“You don’t belong to anybody anymore,” I said, giving him a concerned look and placing a hand over my heart theatrically. “How does it feel?”

He looked down to his shoulder and assumed the expression of someone who had just heard the worst joke in the Kosmoverse. “Fantastic,” he said flatly.

I gestured for him to stand again, and we both walked slowly to the edge of the street. As we looked around the corner, I found myself glancing from side to side to check for any Mechanics.

I shook away the idea.

We were miles above Kovals'–would they really be looking for me all the way up here?

I laughed out loud, realising I was becoming just as paranoid as Lewis.

The Bot looked down at me.

“Something you want to share?” he asked.

I stepped out from the corner, putting on my very best air of normalcy as I straightened my hat. I tried to assume the posture of someone who had never done anything wrong in their entire life.

“Nope.” I gestured to him, turning. “Follow me, and remember–you belong down here.”

“But I don’t,” Lewis protested, still half hiding behind the wall. “...And I regret coming.”

I nodded to the space beside me.

“Yes, you do belong down here. ‘Cause you’re just my Servant who’s helping me run errands. And I’m just a girl walking through Lower Lisk. It’s another agonisingly boring day on Covien.”

Lewis still didn’t come.

I put my hands on my hips, turning to face him in an overly dramatic action. “Come on, man–does that string mean nothing to you?”

Lewis looked down at his arm. He shook himself, nodding seriously. “Right.”

He hurried beside me, and we started the long trek down the marginally busy Liskian street.

After a few moments, I could feel Lewis’s energy start to ripple and shift back into his nervous protocols–I could sense his neck servos priming to turn and check behind him.

Before he could, I smacked his arm.

“Eyes on the road, Bot,” I snapped. “If you keep this up, and I’ll melt you down into a toaster.”

The look of flabbergastion that Lewis gave me was one that I am sure I will remember for the rest of my life.

I nodded slightly to the side. “Remember what I said?” I reminded him subtly through clenched teeth.

His eyes contracted in what was either a glare, or a squint. Either way, he certainly didn’t look happy–but he didn’t look behind him again. He dropped the arm that he had been holding close to his chest and let it sway as he walked.

We successfully passed three open stores and two dozen people, all of whom paid us as much mind as you would pay to a dust ball blowing lazily across the road.

See, Lewis? I said in my head. You’re overreacting.

“Where exactly are we going?” Lewis asked after a few minutes of successful, impassive walking.

I tapped my ear. “Oh, I’m sorry, what was that? ‘Where are we going’ what?”

Lewis definitely glared at me this time. If he had a jaw, I’m sure he would have been grinding his teeth in anger.

“Where are we going, Heri?” He said the title of respect like it had left a bad taste on his non-existent tongue.

“Ah, I’m glad you asked, my humble and obedient servant, because where we are going, is no ordinary place! It is a place of magic, of mayhem, of myth! It–” The words died on my lips.

I stopped walking, my feet finding the pavement of the road like they had been magnetised to that very spot among the dust and crumbling concrete.

Sound died away, even Lewis’s queries.

All that was left was a feeling, deep inside of my bones–a strange, pulsing feeling that felt suspiciously like I was being studied, watched.

Examined.

There were several things that could have added to my inexplicable feelings of suspicion–the lights flickering, but they always flickered–or the wind moaning lifelessly through the slits and openings in the mountain–but the mountain was always doing that–so what was so eerie at that moment?

No. I turned around slowly, peering into the dark corners of the street, then to the high windows sitting in buildings built up into the roof of the mountain–

Someone was watching me.

My mouth went dry, but I kept turning in place.

“Someone–” I muttered, but I couldn’t find the rest of my words.

“What’s wrong?” Lewis asked, looking curiously around the street.

“It feels like...” I tilted my head.

As quickly as it came, the awareness died away, leaving me feeling a little more than slightly foolish.

I shook myself. I was starting to get paranoid. Lewis was such a bad influence.

“Nothing,” I muttered to Lewis, continuing our pace. “It’s nothing.”

Lewis caught up easily with his long legs. “It didn’t look like nothing.”

“Well, it was,” I insisted. “Nothing’s normal–I mean, everything’s wrong–No!” I blew out a breath, rubbing my eyes. “I meant to say– everything is normal. Nothing is wrong.”

By the time I was done with my ‘successful’ attempts at dissuading Lewis’s paranoid questions, I had stopped walking again.

“As I was saying,” I cleared my throat noisily, “we are here. ”

Lewis and I stopped in front of one of the dingiest tavern that existed on this Level. It was cut into the side of the wall, like everything else on this side of the street, and if you went back far enough, I’m sure the tavern would open up to the outside, where a small lot would exist for people to park their Pacers or other vehicles.

The front of the tavern was wood and metal, but one could see where it joined into the mountainous rock and continued easily. It was a wonderful creation, an amazing hybrid of wood, nails, spit and raw cavern. It was the perfect picture of what every dingy West Sector bar should look like.

And it was the perfect place to find a desperate Bot mechanic.

Its doors were open, and the faint scent of over-salted food wafted out onto the street like heavy, greasy spirits. I frowned, forcing myself to gag at the smell after a moment.

You will never be that hungry to actually find that smell appealing, I said to my stomach silently.

My stomach rumbled in disagreement.

It knew I was lying.

“What is this?” Lewis asked as we both mounted the squeaky wooden steps to the establishment, as faint, jubilantly discordant music drifted from inside.

“Rusty Ris’s,” I explained, moving up to the last step. “The finest Tav in the Market district.”

Lewis frowned as we neared the opening, his lenses narrowing as he examined a passed out, snoring figure next to the door.

“No. No… it is not.”

We stopped, and Lewis pointed to a sign that hung limply on two rusty chains, then looked at me pointedly.

I squinted up at the symbols. There might have been an A, maybe a T? I looked back to Lewis.

“Am I supposed to know what that says?” I mouthed in loud, annoyed and breathy movements.

Lewis rolled his eyes. “Oh, in the name of the Great Ferryer–it’s like your reading is actually getting worse.” He pointed up at the two clusters of symbols. “It says ‘no Bots.”

“Oh.”

I took my eyes from the sign and peered inside for a second. It was hazy and smelled of, well… people.

I reached inside my poncho and untied the arm from the strap of my bag. I threw it up to Lewis and walked through the door.

“Then you stay here, and I‘ll do the talking.”

Lewis was about to say something, but he hesitated as he held the arm awkwardly in his one hand.

“Be careful, Evren.”

I saluted him as I disappeared inside.

“Only cause you asked so nicely.”

Inside the building, it took my eyes nearly half a minute to adjust from the bright, yellow street lighting to the lowlight of the tavern.

The tavern was mostly empty this early, except for a handful of people that were simply talking. A few pairs ate breakfast–thus, the oily food smell–while another man lay passed out against a table in the corner. I found myself wondering how tough life had to be to be a out blackout drunk at ten in the morning.

Someone caught my eye at the table closest to the door–a Leokin calmly eating his breakfast. One of his tusks looked like it had been snapped off halfway, and he had remedied this loss by replacing it with a bit of curved pipe to mimic the shape of his other tusk.

He nodded to the door, where he could see Lewis standing awkwardly.

“How much for the Bot?” he signed.

I threw him a few signs in return, passing the table. “More than what you have, Avir–Stick to your own tavern. And your oatmeal.”

Avir went back to his porridge, muttering. “I don’t take orders from mechsrubbers.” He took a bite of food anyway.

Well, apparently he did.

I strode closer to the bar, where a rust coloured Secodack was busy wiping down the dented wooden bench. Beads of many colours hung from her neck, and wooden earrings swayed from her two long, slender ears as she worked. As I approached, she looked up at me through a tangle of hair so dark-red it could almost be considered black.

I give her a small wave. “Hey, Ris.”

The Secodack squinted at me easily, her long, thin ears pointing downwards with a familiar expression of annoyance. “Come to buy something, kid?”

Secodacks were odd creatures. I found myself fascinated by their coloured skin and hair, and the long, slender ears that were about the length of their forearms–but there was only so much staring you could do to a person before they started to get upset.

“Uh, no,” I said hesitantly. “But… thank you.”

She gestured to the door with her cloth.

“Then get lost,” she drawled. “I don't need no floors washed today.”

I stepped up to the bar, the high bench only a few inches away from my chin. “No, Ris, actually–I need some help.”

She inspected a few of her mugs on the shelf behind the bar, her light orange eyes studying the drinking implements with a healthy amount of scrutiny. “Can it come out of a bottle?” she asked over her shoulder.

I thought about it for a moment.

“Only if you have an elixir that can make me smarter,” I laughed, but Ris only nodded thoughtfully as she looked up at the rows and rows of unnamed bottles on a high shelf above her.

“Sure, but it’ll cost you extra.”

The palm of my hand found my forehead as I sighed. I really needed to stop making jokes. Also, what in the evering was Ris selling at her tavern?

I looked back up at the rust coloured barkeeper.

“No, Ris–I was actually wondering if you knew of any Mechanics who needed some work?” I gestured with my hands slightly. “Some that were maybe… down on their luck, perhaps?”

Ris laughed at this, a bitter sounding noise that seemed more guttural than when other races laughed. Maybe it was a Secodack thing. Or maybe it was just Ris. I didn’t know enough Secodacks to compare.

“Sure, we got plenty of those,” she said, leaning onto the bar. “What kind of work d‘you need done?”

Slightly more than relieved, I instinctively looked out to where I knew Lewis was waiting. “Bot repair. Servant arm replacement.”

I looked back as Ris scrunched up her nose in either disappointment or general scrutiny.

“Ah, that’s a bit risky. Using a desperate jerk to do a Servant repair. D’y’know how much a fully functioning limb can go for on the Grey market these days? Never mind a Servant Bot arm.” She lowered her voice and leaned over the bar, “Depends on what Servant ya got, but I heard they have up to seven hundred neurosynth connections in the Pre-war models.” She straightened and shook her head. “That much has got to be worth thousands.”

She clicked her tongue, smacking her cloth onto the bench for effect. “After the Astrostorm screwed up shipping lanes, people are pretty desperate to get the parts they need. And I mean desperate-desperate.”

I placed my hands on the bench, looking up at Ris. “Yes, I know, the Astrostorm made everything bad–I’m… really sorry about that. But all I need is someone who knows what they’re doing. I wouldn’t even care if they were a Scelirian.”

Ris shrugged, flicking her cloth over her shoulder. “Alright, kid,” she said, pointed behind me. “Sel Martin. But don’t come crying foul to me when the arm goes missing.”

I turned to see that the Secodack was pointing to the man passed out on the table.

Ris continued.

“He’s from the Shaft. He was here last night and wandered in first thing this morning. He was kicked out of some Repairer position in one of the nicer shops on the Upper Hanger Levels. If you’re looking for someone who’s down-on-their-luck-desperate, he’s your ticket.”

I turned from the bar to get a better look at the man, little cogs turning in my head.

“The Shaft, you say?” I trailed off, squinting.

The man wasn’t totally drunk, that much I could tell when I walked up to him. His eyes were open, and they traced the pattern the ceiling fan made with lazy, glassy movements. His scraggly blond beard and straight white hair–paired with two hilariously long legs that sprawled out from under the table–made him the perfect description of a pure-blooded Covienian.

“Sel martin?” I asked tentatively.

He took his head from the table and looked up, just as I sat down in the chair opposite him.

“Hm?” he moaned, blinking slowly.

I placed my folded hands on the table. “I was told you might be interested in some work?”

Sel Martin sat up straighter, trying to blink away the low tavern lights he obviously thought were too bright.

Maybe he didn’t see the frayed poncho or the unbrushed hair, but he seemed like he wanted to at least take me seriously.

Gods in Eth, how desperate did you have to be to take me seriously?

“M-maybe,” he slurred.

I nodded, assuming a serious, slightly troubled expression that I had seen many customers wear when they walked into Socals' Engineering.

“I have a rusty old Bot that needs an arm reattached, and I hear you’re the man for the job.” I lifted up one of my hands from the table, inspecting a rust covered nail. “Ever since I got it repaired, it’s never been the same.” I put my hand back down on the table, looking out the door in feigned thought or regret. “Damn Upper Lisk Mechanics,” I muttered.

The man straightened a little more.

I had his attention.

“Those bastards will charge a liver for a crap job,” Sel said, and took a swing of his drink. “And they’ll refuse to redo it.”

I hit the table with my hand. “I know!” I scoffed, pretending the action didn’t hurt my wrist. I gritted my teeth through the pain.

“And I thought they prided themselves on quality.” I lowered my voice, leaning over the table like me and him were privy to the information I was about to share. “Apparently, that's something I can only find in the Lower levels, like the Shaft. Although… it has been tough trying to find someone who has the real skill to get the job done.”

Sel nodded to himself a few times. “Well, I could do it. And-and… and for a lower price than what those… those rust rascals charged ya’.”

I started to wonder just how much money I could make this man do a job for. Mentally, I tried to calculate how much my boots would cost.

Probably… twenty one Disks? That was seven Pieces. And whatever I could steal from that Vending Unit that didn’t have a lock on the squiggly upper street…

I was hesitating too long. That didn’t look good.

I straightened.

“Good Herus, I will pay you thirty five to get the job done.”

Sel nodded, taking another sip of his drink. “Where is this Bot and what kind is it?”

“Well, today I have it with me. It’s a Servant Bot, Type C. I, uh, think that means Companion module–?” I stopped talking.

The tavern had fallen completely silent.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ris slowly back away from her bench, her eyes glued to the door.

Trying not to move my head, I looked back to where Sel Martin’s glassy eyes were stuck on something behind me.

The absence of chatter in the bar was so tangible, it made it possible to hear a beetle chew methodically on a poster to my right.

“We’re looking for a Geodian girl. A Dark Geodian.”

The voice that had spoken behind me was coated heavily in an accent that only native Covienian speakers had.

I fought the urge to turn around, mentally glueing myself to my seat. Were they looking for me? Was it Kovals'? Damn–how had they seen me? Surely I wasn’t the only Geo girl in Lisk; there had to be hundreds of Geodians in this settlement, alone.

Sel squinted at me, and more importantly, the markings on my face. I turned my head down, hoping that the brim of my hat would conceal the markings.

Don’t do it, said a pleading voice in my head. Please don’t do it-

Sel’s hand rose shakily. “There’s one over herree?”

That bastard.

The time for waiting to see how things would play out was finished. I leapt out of my chair and made a dive for the back door.

Could I escape via the ramps? Maybe I could steal a Pacer? Oh–no. I didn’t know how to drive those things. Would Lewis be okay by himself?

I ran past a few tables and kicked over a few chairs, but something jerked my neck backwards only a few metres from the door, and I gasped painfully, the violent action crushing my throat.

By the time I'd realised that someone had grabbed the hood of my poncho, some unseen force pushed my face into one of the tables. The hard wood met my cheek, stunning me for more than a few seconds.

Oh no… they squished… my hat.

I twisted around, trying to get a good look at what held me.

It was a Scavenger, their face covered by the brown fabric they all wrapped themselves in. They held my arms back, keeping me from moving. Scriking Eth, I couldn’t move my arm without feeling like I was about to tear it off.

I saw another Scavenger in my peripheral, and his mask had been pulled down to reveal a scruffy face and an even scruffier expression. “Is it her?” he asked the Scavenger who held me on the table.

“Well, I don't know,” the Scavenger said. “Why don’t you be useful and check?”

One of my arms was moved.

Too late, I realised it was my right one, the one with the Astrostorm burn. A few burns that twisted up my pinky finger weren't covered by the bandages, but most people assumed that it was a birthmark. How did they know...?

“Who are you guys?” I muffled into the wood.

Something hit the back of my skull–I think it was someone’s hand. “Shut it.”

I felt the bandages on my arm being unravelled. I tried to struggle away with small, panicked movements, but the pain in my other arm increased. With my head smooshed into the side of the table, I had a clear view of a very confused looking Ris. Her already harsh features darkened with anger.

“Oi–we’ll have none of that in here,” she shouted from behind her bench. “She hasn't done anything. She’s just a kid.”

Oh that's nice, I thought. Ris cares about me.

The Scavenger that was unravelling my bandages glared at the barkeeper, his blue eyes paler than I’d seen on other Covienians.

“Do you know her?” he asked angrily. “Cause these”–the Scavenger pulled the bandage free, throwing it on the ground and revealing the reddish-pink scars, arranged either in erratic or geometric shapes on my arm–"are marks from an Astrogate.”

The Scavenger continued, looking pointedly at Ris. “Which makes this”–I was jerked up suddenly to face the tavern as he continued–

"-Astrogate Touched.”

The words had an effect like all the occupants had just found out the sky was filled with Neburay blood.

Disgusted. Distasteful. Unbelieving.

They all stared at me like I was a monster.

They all gawked at the scars.

Not one of them held even a shred of pity.

I fought the urge to look away as humiliation burnt at my cheeks.

One of the tavern-goers stood shakily, clutching a pendant around her neck with a terrified expression on her face. “An accursed,” she murmured.

The Scavenger who was talking continued to do so, his audience of tavern-goers completely at his mercy.

“And the ‘withholdment and lack of declaration of Astrogate Touched Objects is illegal under the new Research and Refinement Act, and is punishable by exile from the Kosmatic Alliance.’” He pointed a finger at Ris, his words low, threatening.

“So what did I hear you say?”

Ris backed away from the bench, sinking back into the kitchen of the tavern, “Nothing. I said nothing.”

Oh that's not so nice. Ris doesn't care.

I guess that's okay. That’s probably what I would have done, too.

The other Scavenger, the one that was holding me back, looked at the scars in disgust. “How the Eth does that even happen?”

His companion smacked him on the shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Tie her up and then we’ll take her to Vakare.”

“Vakare?” I asked. “Where’s that?”

Something else hit the back of my head.

“We said be quiet!” the blue-eyed Scavenger hissed. “You shouldn’t even be able to talk.”

What? What did that even mean? How did they know to look for the Astrogate scars? Why couldn’t I speak? I was obviously being abducted, so why couldn’t they give me the courtesy of asking questions? Why does everyone have to be so damn dramatically cryptic?

My hands were tied behind my back with the bandages they took off my arm, and I was (quite forcefully) jerked towards the door by the scruff of my neck.

“Look, guys,” I began, as I was pushed along. “I think you’ve made a huge mistake, I–I personally think you’ve got the wrong Geodian.”

The blue-eyed Scavenger pulled out a knife from somewhere in his multiple layers of clothing and pointed it towards me.

“Oh, do you, now? And is there another freak that survived an Astrostorm scrounging around Lisk?”

I shrugged as best I could with my hands tied behind my back. “Maybe? I don’t know for sure, there could be one, but–I haven’t checked yet.”

“I said be quiet!” he snapped angrily, and the knife moved closer to my face. “You’ve got no right to even be alive, let alone speak.”

I laughed painfully. Either the fear was getting to my head or I really must have been just plain stupid.

“I am so confused right now. What does that even mean?” I looked up at the Scavenger with a wince. “You guys are with Kovals', aren’t you?”

Before he could answer, something caught his attention. His light eyes flicked behind me to the doorframe of the tavern.

Everyone looked up to see a tall figure silhouetted by the light of the street, whisps of light hair around her masked face.

The doors to the tavern swung back into place behind her as she took one, confident stride into the establishment, the weight of her light boots leaving no sound in the otherwise creaky floorboards.

She wore a plethora of materials and fabrics, all wrapped around her like they were weaving some diabolical tapestry out of scraps she found. A long piece of fabric wrapped around her shoulder and fell down her back, where a lengthy braid swayed as the newcomer stared us down. She had a scarf tied around her neck and mouth, and she easily held a long, slender rifle in her two, worn hands.

“Oh excellent,” I breathed. “Another Scavenger.”

In a movement that felt both practised and precise, the stranger lifted the rifle, aiming it at the blue-eyed Scavenger.

“Let her go,” she said, her voice also carrying an ethnic edge.

The occupants of the tavern seemed far from disturbed at the imminent conflict. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two Tirons exchange coins in a bet.

I scoffed mentally. Typical Covienians.

The targeted Scavenger scoffed at the woman. “And why would we do that, Outcast?” he called, obviously unperturbed.

To answer his question, the telltale noise of a rifle cocking echoed through the silent tavern.

Light as white as bone spilled from the barrel window. Silence followed the action like an unwanted wraith.

The Scavenger holding me back shifted uncomfortably. “Tern, maybe this isn’t the best time to-”

The blue-eyed Scavenger waved off his companion. “Oh, please. She’s not gonna–”

I had heard rifle fire before, but didn’t imagine it to be so loud up close. Or as terrifying.

The white energy bolt flew across the room and into Tern’s knee cap as fast as lightning, just a foot or so from where I was standing.

As the Scavenger crumpled to the ground in agony, his companion released me and pushed me out of the way, where I made use of the momentum and used it to fall onto the floor ungracefully.

Aha. Nailed it.

As I caterpillar-scooched across Ris’s dirty floor–which upon closer inspection did actually need to be cleaned–the sound of the two Scavengers fighting filled the tavern.

Finding cover underneath a nearby table, I rolled onto my back to see the Scavenger that had tied me up come at the stranger with a long, slightly glowing knife. The stranger caught the knife between her rifle barrel and the scope, twisting it out of the man’s grasp in less than a heartbeat. It planted itself on the table above me, vibrating from the impact.

“Not so easy, fighting a fair fight, is it, Kir?” she taunted the man, closing the space between them quickly and kneeing him in the gut. He staggered back from the blow, but by no means was down for the count.

Seeing this, the stranger sent the butt of her rifle into the Scavenger's nose.

He took the blow like a champ, deflating onto the floor and screaming. Like a little girl.

The entire fight was over faster than I thought a fight could even be over. I surveyed the two groaning Scavengers on the ground, a horrified expression filled my face.

It got a little more horrified as I swung my eyes up and saw that the stranger was then stalking towards me. Not good. Not good!

Physics and reason be damned, I decided that I could probably make it to the back door before she caught me, and leaping up from under the table, I lunged for my exit, yet again.

For the second time that day, I was stopped from leaving the tavern by someone grabbing me by the scruff of my neck. But thankfully, instead of slamming my face into a table, she turned me towards the front door and propelled me through it.

“Run!” she shouted in my ear, and I staggered out into the light, my arms still painfully tied behind my back.

Lewis was nowhere to be seen.

I looked around wildly, searching the street for the tall Bot.

“Lewis?” I called, but no answer came. “Lewis?!”

The stranger pushed me down the stairs, her hand on the back of my shirt, urging me forward. “I said move!” she ordered. “They’ll be more close by–”

We had only made it a few metres when we heard shouting up the street.

I glanced back over my shoulder.

Three tall Scavengers started pointing at me and the stranger, breaking into a run towards us.

“Uh, they’re running towards us!” I announced helpfully as we ran.

Something flew overhead and buried itself into a nearby shop sign, sending it swinging erratically on its chains.

Next to me, the Scavenger cursed in another language, turning around and sending a few bolts of white light towards our pursuers.

I watched in awe as she aimed and fired. “Wha-Who are you?” I asked, trying to wiggle out of my bounds.

The Scavenger threw the rifle strap back over her head and pulled her mask down.

What was revealed was deep green eyes set in a mildly freckled, extremely angry face. There was a cut I didn’t remember on her cheek–it looked pretty deep, and not yet fully healed.

“Web?” I croaked in shock, my mouth opening in amazement. “Why… why are you here?”

She grabbed my shoulder and turned me around heavily.

“I’ve come to warn you–” I could feel her untying the bandages quickly, deft fingers flying across the knots and loosening them. She turned me back around and handed me the white fabric, giving me a flat look. "To tell you that you are in grave danger.”

As if on cue, another round of projectiles flew across the street, and a crate of fruit outside a general store exploded into a wonderful cloud of purple mist next to us.

Web grabbed my arm and pulled me down the street quickly. “Aren’t I doing a wonderful job?” she shouted in frustration.

With her hand on my arm, she pulled me behind her as we ran past storefronts and other buildings, startling people left and right.

“Why are they shooting at us?” I shouted, jerking away from another shot. It rebounded off the metal road and into the roof above, where it pierced a large, low pipe. Hot, white steam started to pour out and spew into the street.

Web avoided a low hanging sign, ducking down. “Weren’t you watching when I beat them up?” she asked, like it was the most obvious reason. “I think they might be kinda mad, kid.”

Web pulled me into a side street, where I most certainly would have tripped over an empty crate if not for her firm grip on my arm.

Running down the alley, we found it was a dead end filled with large metal bins.

Instead of panicking, Web flicked the lid open on a rusty garbage bin.

“In,” she demanded.

Who was I to argue with the deranged lady holding a gun? I grabbed the side of the garbage bin, hoisting myself up onto my stomach.

I gagged, sagging back down onto the ground. “Gods in Eth–” I coughed, “that smells terrible.”

After a noise of pure frustration, Web picked me up and threw me heavily into the bin, where I landed on old food wrappers and a pile of damp softboard. “If you wanna live, you move quickly,” she whispered forcefully.

Gracefully, she leapt into the bin after me and used her rifle to flick down the lid, plunging our world into darkness.

Besides my heavy breathing, the world seemed deceivingly quiet–except, of course, for the ventilation pipes high above that dutifully pumped air into this level, and the broken pipe that was still hissing and spewing steam loudly into the street.

“Why did you–” I began, but Web cut me off with a violent shh, putting her hand over my mouth to silence my query.

The only light that came into the garbage bin was through a plethora of small pinholes in the rusty walls of the container. On a normal day, I would have remarked that the pinholes looked like stars, but today, all that the lowlight did was make Web's expression hard to read. All I got was stern. Almost worried, but not quite. Borderline pensive.

Very annoyed.

After a second, the sound of running footsteps came closer, passing our alley and taking off down the street, followed by muffled shouting and a few exclamations of anger.

As the noise died away, Web took her hand from my face slowly. “Okay,” she murmured, “we’re safe, for now. They’ll double back once they find out we’re gone.” She leant back on her haunches cautiously as she studied me.

“I see you got the use of your arm back,” she stated, pale green eyes flicking over my exposed and unbandaged arm. “What do you call yourself, now?” she asked curiously, her face softening marginally.

I waited for my heavy breathing to reside.

“Evren,” I answered. “Evren, and I’m still… working on a last name. I can’t think of anything good. So I'm just Evren... from the West Sectors.”

Web looked at me like the stupidest words in history had just been uttered.

“What?” she asked incredulously. “You named yourself after the Astrostorm that… screwed your brain up?” She rubbed her face, muffling a laugh. “Kid, either you’re extremely poetic, or you’re just an idiot.”

I shrugged.

“Lewis says that normally you can’t be one without the other.” Pausing, I recalled the exact words he had used on me once. “But he insists that I only have one–and I really don’t think I’m that poetic.”

Web raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Lewis?”

“He’s a Bot,” I said, eager to tell the Scavenger about the artificial lifeform. “He helped me when you first sent me to Lisk. That's how I found out my ship came from a Gate. He's missing an arm, though–but I found the arm. Now a bunch of Mechanics are after me, because I stole it from them–but it’s okay because they stole it from Lewis, and I know that because I used to work for them–and actually, that’s the reason I’m down here–to find someone who can put it back on. And I was in the middle of organising someone when I was interrupted by those Scavengers with the masks.”

I clicked my fingers, an idea popping into my head. “Wait–you don’t think you can help me, could you? Do you know how to put a Bot arm back on?”

All the while I spoke, Web looked like she was thinking about something else, becoming more and more distracted from my words. She put her hands together, connecting them at the tips, and stared at me.

“Evren…” she started, and unlike Lewis, she said the name like it was normal. “Do you even know why those other Scavengers attacked you?”

Her question took me back a bit.

I looked at either side of the dumpster, like the answer to the question might be written on the rusty, hole-ridden walls. “Uh… No, I don’t. Actually–that was weird.”

Web nodded. She still seemed distracted.

“Right…” She drew the word out just a little longer than the word should have been, and then stared at me with her pale green eyes, squinting.

“How much do you know about Gray Raven?”

Again, the question took me a moment to process. What did this have to do with Lewis’s arm?

“Um… I hear the name a lot? Aren’t they scientists? In the Fringe? Like… a company? I hear they study rocks, or something.”

Web tilted her head. “Well, I guess you’re right. But how to describe them further…?” She rubbed her eyes. “Gray Raven is a guild of scientists–a sub-guild, they call themselves–from Entrillia’s very own Imperial Research and Science Guild. But Gray Raven specialises in the Blue Fringe. You could call it… their designated area.”

“Designated area?” I echoed. “What does that mean?”

The Scavenger gestured with her hands, resting them on her knees.

“It means that they have certain powers and privileges given to them by the Empirium itself. It means that they can get away with anything they want. And because the Blue Fringe is so remote, no one can say no."

Web looked at the wall to her left, light from the pinholes giving the illusion of stars on her face.

“It means that the dense and inhospitable Blue Fringe is up for grabs for anyone who has the means to take it,” Web continued softly. “Again.”

I laughed quietly. I knew a little about the Blue Fringe by now, and this bit of information was funny for some reason.

“What could a bunch of scientists want to do in the wild West Sectors?” I asked. “We got cows… and criminals, and–and Y-sector flames.”

“Oh, Evren–” she murmured. “There is so much more out here than people realise… The Blue Fringe isn’t just chaotic because of the lawless bands, or poor government: no other sector displays as many electromagnetic anomalies as the Y-sectors, and the Science Guilds have been looking out here for something for decades now.” She looked at me intently, and I was drawn to the cut on her cheek. “And they have not been kind about it.”

Something in her words made me uneasy.

The Scavenger continued.

“Astrostorms are possibly the biggest, most mysterious question the universe has ever asked, and so far, no one has been able to answer it. Because every storm is different–erratic and unpredictable– it makes any observations damn right impossible to verify. Survivors are rare, and if they live, they… don’t last long.”

I shifted on my seat of softboard. I didn’t like this conversation, or where it might be going. They echoed Lewis’s words when I first came to Lisk. How I was an anomaly.

They made me just as uncomfortable now, as they did then.

“To answer my own question…” Web continued, “Gray Raven specialises in that one, unsolvable question. Astrostorms.”

The words hung in the damp, heavy air of the garbage bin.

Web looked at me, her expression morphing into something more serious and terrifying.

“At first, it must have been the travel ban that kept them away but, now… Evren… Gray Raven knows someone survived. And they’re looking for them.”

For a few moments, my heavy breathing was the only thing that accompanied us in the small garbage bin. The moments dragged on as I stared at Web unblinkingly, who looked at me like I needed to say something.

Finally, the words tumbled out of my mouth. “They… know what?”

Web looked almost relieved to see some kind of shock on my face.

“The research groups, the Science Guilds, Gray Raven–they know there’s a survivor.”

“How do they know?? How did they–and–and why? I’m not special. Or important. Or even… vaguely interesting. I’ve just been digging through old Tunnel-streets for the past six months.” I searched Web’s face for answers. “Web, I haven’t told anyone.”

Web scratched the back of her head.

“Well…” she hesitated like someone who had been dared to jump into a pool, but found out the water was too cold at the last minute. “They know because"–she winced–“I told them.”

Ah! Betrayal!

“Web!” I shrieked. “Why would you tell them that!?”

Web threw up her shoulders defensively.

“Look, I didn’t actually know where your transport came from. I just thought it was a passing ship that lost power near the storm.” She pointed at me. “And truth be told, I genuinely thought you were dead. How was I supposed to know that your ship came out of a freaking Astrogate!?”

As Web said the words, my mind worked hard to assign them to meaning. There was a new emotion in me, one I didn’t have a name for. One I didn’t think I was used to having very often.

I straightened.

I think I felt hurt.

“I was a crash survivor–” I said, forcing out the words. I started thinking about those first days where I was lost and delusional. I didn’t want to think about it, but something inside of my mind forced me to.

"–and you sent me to walk miles towards a settlement I didn’t know.”

I clenched my fist. I hadn't tied the bandages back on.

“Astrogate survivor or not–what the hell were you thinking when you sent me across an Echo infested plain?”

Web looked back at me. Her eyes held guilt; the same guilt I didn’t understand when she left me at the Post.

It took six months of hell on this planet, but I understood it now.

“I…” she started, and then stopped. Something changed, and her eyes switched to severe curiosity instead of remorse as she registered my words. “You saw the Echos?” she asked. “You didn’t make it to Lisk before nightfall?”

I gawked at her.

“Of course I didn’t make it to Lisk before nightfall!” I leaned towards her as I spoke. “You know very well that that would have been impossible.”

Web didn’t seem to register my accusation. She was too caught up in the fact that I had seen an Echo, and still made it out alive.

“How did you–But the Echoes? How many days did it take you?” she asked.

“Two,” I said tersely, folding my scarred arm on top of my normal one. "I think. Then I made it up to the Port. No thanks to you.”

I added the last words as an afterthought–though I thought they were a bit mean. But then again, she was the one who sent me here to die–I thought I could afford just a little bit of meanness. I tried my best to glare at the woman, but I might have just come off as stubborn and somewhat confused.

Web was now properly deflated in some form of regret. She buried her head in both her hands.

“He was right about you… but I still don’t understand,” she said.

Well it’s certainly going around, I thought uncomfortably.

I shifted uneasily, looking at the woman across from me in the garbage bin. It was a weird parody of the cold Scavenger that rescued me on that plain six months ago.

I breathed out.

Something was wrong. Something was different.

I thought back to what Web was saying. About Gray Raven.

About me.

I sighed, silently ashamed of my outburst. Why was I wasting energy on being annoyed at the person who had saved me from a transport crash?

When Web spoke again, her words were quiet. “Yes,” she started bitterly. “You’re right. I sent you here to die.”

She looked up at me and I blinked.

Once. Twice.

Oh. I wasn’t exactly expecting those words.

She continued.

“You obviously had sustained some form of serious head injury in the crash, and I thought you were a… lost cause. And my brother needed my help–and I”–she looked at the trash bin wall again–"I was distracted. It became a question of him, or you. And… I chose him.” Web seemed old as she said the words, like she had shed her skin of Scavenger garb and had morphed into something much more serious–something as sombre and as ancient as Covien itself.

She continued as I watched her under a sceptical eye.

“It never even crossed my mind that your ship literally came out of the Gates.” The Scavenger ran a hand over her hair. “I only found that out for sure last Phase,” she admitted. “I guess I told the wrong person that I had helped someone escape the transport that collapsed the Railtube.”

Web rubbed her cheek absently where her cut was still in the process of healing.

“And after that, it all went downhill from there. Next thing I knew, Gray Raven agents and a few odd Scavenger tribes came to arrest me because I had ‘Withheld Astrogate Debris from an Imperial Guild’, and they wanted to interrogate me about the survivor I helped.” She didn’t look up. “My Brother, Wil, was a Covienian Ranger. He’s the one who knew something was off about you and your crash. I haven’t the scriking idea how, though. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, even though I argued with him about it. He rode South to Nofuel to talk to his superiors, and told me to take you to Lisk.”

She dropped her hands in her face again. “Looking back at it now, it’s obvious that he knew what you were, and what would happen to you. And so to protect us both, he didn’t say anything.”

“Where is he now?” I asked quietly. “Your brother. I think… I think I might remember him.”

Web looked up, shaking her head and swallowing.

“I’ll tell you when he shows up. He’s been missing for six months.”

I stared at my shoes for a moment, unsure how to process all those words. Oh…

Web was talking again, so I had to force myself to pay attention.

“Look, those Scavengers that attacked you? They’re working for Gray Raven. They’ll keep hunting you, and when they find you, they’ll hand you over to a Guild that is hell-bent on asking questions that… will not end well for you.”

I held a finger up. “Wait–Wait a second–Let's just… wait a second…” I closed my eyes in concentration, my finger still up like it could keep a realisation I didn’t want to have at bay. “You’re telling me that the lawless, criminal-like organisation of Gray Raven is looking specifically for a–”

“You. Specifically for you.”

She raised her eyebrows, gesturing with her hands. “Are we getting this idea? You need to leave Covien. And very, very fast.”

Her words fell to the pit of my stomach, filling it with lead.

The bin–it was the garbage bin. I needed to get out.

It was too small.

I got to my feet. The bin was getting smaller, Web’s words muffled as I pushed the lid open and tumbled over the side.

The ground. It came too quickly.

I crumpled against the side of the garbage bin, its rusty surface pressed against my back.

Web jumped out, casting a quick glance over her shoulder as she unsteadily landed on the ground. “Kid, are you alright?”

Was I alright? Was I alright? I didn’t know.

“Evren, are you alright?” Web repeated, this time concern darkening her face as she looked down at me.

I went to say what I wanted to–that I was fine. But the words just didn’t come. I tried again, but instead the weight in my stomach just got heavier.

“But… me?” I asked finally. “Are you telling me I’m not safe in Lisk anymore? If they find me–what are they going to do to me?”

Web stilled, looking down at me through wisps of hair that had fallen from her braid and drifted around her face. She ground her jaw, looking away from me unhappily.

“Gods in Eth, girl,” the Scavenger whispered quietly. “What do you think?”

I stared up at Web, still on the ground, and still refusing to get up from it.

“Can I hide?” I asked blankly.

Web shook her head, waving the words away.

“No-no-no. The Scavengers will find you the same way they found you today.” She came to stand in front of me and gestured to the mouth of the alley. “The Scavenger tribes are old and somewhat revered in Lisk. People do as they say. That’s how they found you. And that’s how they'll find you again.”

She stopped herself, like she had been caught up in her words. Turning around, she rubbed her face with both of her hands.

“Oh, Web Anang’ikwe–what have you done?” she asked the opposite alley wall. Suddenly, she turned back around.

“I can’t change what I did,” she told me. “But I said I came here to help you, and I meant that.”

Web threw two things onto the ground in front of me. “This is where I can actually be useful–instead of sending you to another grave.”

I looked at what was on the ground.

The first thing was a large disk, slightly bigger than the Disks that I got paid with. But instead of polyplast and silver, it was rimmed with blue and green, intricate engravings on its black matte surface. The most notable symbol was one of a stylised bird, its wings stretched in flight and its solitary eye engraved in gold.

I picked it up, studying it.

“That’s a Traveller Token," Web explained, “they’ve been used for hundreds of years. It’ll get you passage on any kind of commercial ship… I think.”

In my palm was an actual way to get offworld. I could leave everything behind me. I could go anywhere.

I looked back at the ground, seeing the second item she had thrown. I picked it up slowly, not really understanding.

It was a necklace; a black cord with one solitary pendant on it–an unimpressive, drab grey star with a hole that had been drilled out of its middle.

Web talked above me as I looked at it hollowly.

“I… took that from you when you passed out. I thought you were just another crash survivor, so I stole it. I thought it might be worth something.”

I looked up at Web, and she laughed.

“Yeah, I know.” The Scavenger had the good grace to rub the back of her neck shamefully. “I haven’t gotten any citizen of the year medals, that’s for damn sure. But–” she clicked her tongue with a look. “Scavengers gotta eat.”

She sighed after a moment, another look of regret overtaking her features, despite her attempts at brushing it off.

“I felt bad, so I didn’t sell it. But I asked one of my friends about the metal–it’s Obscurium–and it's only used in the Entrillian Crafting Guilds in the Inner-worlds. It would have had to come from there, at least.”

All emotion had been chased from my face, and apparently this disturbed Web.

“You look like you’ve seen a mimic,” she stated, looking down at me uncomfortably.

There were a few moments where the words wouldn’t come to my lips again.

A thousand thoughts rushed through my head, like an endless stream, racing at the speed of light. Thoughts of planets, thoughts of leaving, thoughts of memories, memories of the last six months– memories of misery–

Of looking up at the stars and yearning to be somewhere else.

I could finally leave.

I clutched the token in my hand, a heavy weight settling in my gut.

“Web...” I began miserably. “I… just don’t belong anywhere. Where… where do I even go?”

Web stifled a strained kind of laugh.

“Right now, anywhere will do.” She shrugged. “The Kosmoverse is at your feet. So go where you want to. If you could survive in Lisk for six months, I'm pretty damn sure you can survive anywhere…”

Web paused, her tone changing slightly. “I thought you were dead.” She stopped, looking down at me with light green eyes, “But I figured that if you managed to stay alive, you would at least leave. Covien isn’t really a wellspring of hospitality.”

She seemed to be considering something. “What have you been doing? What was it that kept you here?”

I raised my shoulders, looking away. “I don’t know… I was trying to get enough money… to leave–And then the storm–”

“Is over.”

Web crouched down and sat on her heels, tilting her head as she studied me. “Has been for a while…”

Her eyes examined mine for a moment, gears moving silently behind her expression. Finally, her eyes relaxed, like she had connected two dots that were obvious.

“Ah,” she said. “But not for you, is it?”

I frowned silently. I didn’t know what she was talking about.

She nodded thoughtfully despite my confusion. “For you,” she continued softly, “it’s still raging just as bad as day one, isn’t it? It’s a big, unmovable, unstoppable force that wrenched you out of wherever you came from… to here.”

Web found my eyes, staring at me intently.

“Kid—that storm is never gonna end if you keep telling yourself that it can’t. Everyday you’re gonna wake up, and it’s going to rip you from wherever you are and tell you that you’re lost all over again.” The Scavenger paused. “It’s gonna tell you that you’re different, that you’ve got no place to go, that you ain't a real person.”

“But…” I looked down. “I know the storm is over,” I asserted shakily. Even as I said the words, Lewis’s words from last night came to my head. I disregarded them. “Covien declared it over a Phase ago. I heard the news with everybody else.”

I could feel Web’s eyes on me. She made a noise of amusement. “Kid, when your storm ends, it’ll be your choice, not theirs. ”

She gestured to the roof of the street, probably meaning the sky.

“It's not a divine voice, or some cosmic decision, it’s just a simple choice.” She stood, offering me her hand. “Your choice.”

I looked at her hand. Was she saying that I could just decide to belong somewhere? That I could just disregard what the storm did to me?

I guess that's what I had been trying to do.

But the ending of the storm had shaken me, shaken me enough to make me leave Surface Side and hide from Lewis. Enough to make me think the best I could do in life was the life of a Mechscrubber. Enough to make me believe I didn’t belong anywhere.

Web was still holding her hand out.

I took it, cementing a thought that had been growing inside me.

I knew I couldn’t change the path that existence had laid for me.

But I damn well knew I was gonna try.

Web pulled me to my feet and smacked my arm once for effect. “That’a girl.”

Looking down the alley, her hands fingered the strap to her rifle. “These Levels aren’t safe anymore.” The Scavenger looked back at me.

“Surface Side and the Upper Levels are off limits–but it’ll take a few days for Gray Raven to work their way down, so stay hidden in the Low districts and you’ll be safe. For a little.”

I nodded, looking down at the token and necklace in my other hand. “I know a place I can hide down near the Shaft.”

“Good,” Web said, walking past me. “With the Token, find a transport. Then be long gone before Gray Raven knows that you know they’re here.”

I followed her to the end of the alley, and she looked out from behind the corner. Steam still spewed into the street, and had given the level the illusion of fog.

It moved and shifted like a restless creature, readying itself to pounce at any given moment. I swallowed, trying to fight to urge to hyperventilate.

“What are you gonna do about your friend?” Web asked over her shoulder.

I dropped my head in my hands.

“Gods in Ethreal–Lewis!” My fingers found my scalp and I pulled my hair in agitation. “He’s gonna get decommissioned from the Port if his arm doesn't get put back on. Scriking scientists,” I muttered, staring at the Token on my open palm. “Why does this keep happening to me? Why does everything I try to do turn out so horribly, horribly wrong?”

Web turned around, and I looked up morosely after a moment. Her green eyes seemed tired. More tired than how I’ve pictured her all these months. Her hands, currently resting on her rifle strap, seemed more worn than how I remembered them, too.

Despite her harsh appearance and the dark, but not unpleasant, energy that seemed to constantly surround her, the next time she spoke her voice was softer than her appearance and demeanour suggested.

“Kid, you haven’t gotten anything wrong. You're not responsible for all the cards you’ve been dealt.” Web stepped closer, closing my fingers around the Token firmly and dropping her voice to a whisper. “Just for how you play them.”

I looked up at her, all the adrenaline in my system tumbling out in a nervous laugh.

“Web, I don’t think I have very good cards.”

Web smiled, and I noticed that one of her teeth was missing. Just one.

“Welcome to the Kosmoverse, Evren.”

She patted me on the shoulder, and then frowned thoughtfully.

“I’ll find the Bot for you,” Web said. “I’ll make sure he’s okay. Now get going.”

I smiled, relief evident. “Oh–thank you!” Before Web could step back or fade away into the mist on the street, I threw my arms around her waist and squeezed her in gratitude.

“Thank you–thank you so, so much. You’re so nice. You’re like, the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

Hugging Web was like trying to hug a lamp post. In my arms, she felt as unyielding as metal, and just as cold.

Awkwardly, the Scavenger patted my head a few times hesitantly. “Oh, well, that’s okay, Evren. It’s… the least I could do.”

I finally released the Scavenger, looking up at her. “I mean it.”

Web nodded, almost hesitant. There seemed to be just one more thing she wanted to say.

“What is it?” I asked.

She opened her mouth to speak when something interrupted her. A few angry words in another language resounded over the misty street, echoing into our alley, and Web whipped around, looking out. “Those bastards are back!” she hissed in a whisper.

In a heartbeat, Web spun back around and gripped both of my arms painfully.

“Listen. I want to say everything is gonna be okay, but the truth is I want you to be afraid of the science guilds,” Web said urgently, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Be afraid. Be very, very afraid. Out here in the Fringe, Gray Raven gets what they want. And when they don’t, everybody suffers.”

Web looked out to the street and then back to me, her eyes intense and tone urgent as her grip on my arms increased. “Hold onto that fear, and it might just keep you alive.”

She pushed me towards the mouth of the alley. “There’s a let-out for the next level down the street. Use that to avoid the Scavengers. Now go.”

I stood there for a moment, not wanting to move as I faced the foggy street.

“Wait,” I said, turning, as a new kind of fear started tightening around my throat. “Will I ever see you again?”

Web looked conflicted. Her eyes held tones of regret, while her face clearly said she wanted me gone. She finally shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment.

“‘Paths once crossed are not easily untangled,’” she said as she opened her eyes. “Now go.” She pushed me again, further into the street and towards the let-out. “And good luck, Evren.”

I pushed the token into my pocket, and gave Web a look.

“Didn’t you hear, Scavenger?” I asked, forcing myself to laugh despite the heaviness in my throat.

I flicked my poncho cowl up. “There's no luck in the Blue Fringe.”

Web opened her mouth to reply, and then shut it again, a faint ghost of a smile spreading across her thin lips.

There was another shout, closer than before.

Web gestured for me to move.

Another shout. It was now dangerously close.

“Go!” shouted Web, pushing me into the street.

I guess I couldn’t stand still anymore.

I broke into a run, speeding down the street towards the let-out: a huge mouth in the wall that was my one way ticket out of the Upper Levels. I forced my legs to run faster than they ever had, as the shouting neared closer in the misty street.

I cursed angrily as I ran.

I wanted to say more.

I wanted to ask her about her brother. I wanted to tell her that one day, I would try to repay her. I wanted so much to say that I would’ve died without her, and that I didn’t mean to be angry with her.

But all I could do was run.

As I reached the dimmed entrance for the level below, I wanted to look back. I wanted to see Web standing by the alleyway, wanted one last chance to say goodbye–but I knew I was painfully out of time.

I leapt down the stairs, running as fast as I possibly could into the next level–the weight of the necklace, and the Token, somehow giving me an extra rush of speed, telling me to push forward despite what I wanted.

Once again, the universe had set me on a tangled, unknown path, and once again, devoiding me of the painfully simple option of looking back.