Chương 37: Benefactor

"Listen up, Skulls," Sergeant Rios growled, pacing the narrow aisle between the jump-seats. He scanned left and right, looking at the squad, meeting their eyes, ensuring everyone was paying attention.

"This drop is hot—we're here to put down a rift-break."

"But, Sarge, the INN says those don't really happen!" Parker cried, holding a hand to his chest as he pretended to faint.

"Shut the fuck up, Parker." Sarge glared at Diego.

"Shut him up, Montez!"

"Sarge!" Montez pulled his J-blade, and it hummed menacingly as he held it in front of Parker's chin. Hector wasn't worried; it was all a show—a routine that felt as normal as pulling on your socks before slipping your feet into your boots; Parker would mouth off, the Sarge would tell one of the Aegifers to shut him up, and then the briefing would continue.

"Like I was saying," Rios growled, "it's a rift-break, and that means aura, and that means you better damn well listen to your Decanus down there. You're going to see things that training can't prepare you for. Forget about the vids. Forget about ghost stories that your bunkmate whispered when you thought Sarge wasn't listening." He thumped his chest, grinning.

"The outpost is designated graveyard, and that means we're weapons-hot. Eyes open, heads on a swivel. Watch your LOF. I'm sending you reference images of reapers, claw-nests, lurkers, and spine-bags. You see any of those, who do you call?" He spun, his gaze falling on Hector.

"Olivares?"

"We call our Decanus, Sarge!"

"That's right! Unless you're designated aura-tier bronze, which none of you troopers are, then you will not engage the afore-listed incursion spawn without a Decanus present!" He stepped toward the front of the drop shuttle bay.

"Now, strap in, open your safeties, and close your mouths; we're going on a bug hunt!" ### Hector's mouth stretched into a feral grin as he dreamed, his body twitching with the memories made real again in his drug- and aura-induced stupor. He might have gone on for hours, dreaming the day away, but for the incessant chime Evie played into his auditory implants. When the sound finally registered and he blinked his eyes awake, he jerked into a sitting position, staring into the blackness.

"Ugh," he grunted, blinking several more times before focusing on his AUI. The first thing he noted was the time: 0933. The second was a flashing window Evie had populated with aura system messages. He didn't read it right away. He slapped his hand on the bed, exploring the mattress with his probing fingers, hoping to feel a sleeping body there, but finding only an empty sheet.

"Britt?" he croaked, jerking the release tab on his IV cuff. As it hissed, deflating, he slid it down his numb arm, pulling his hand out. He worked his fingers, trying to bring some feeling back into the limb. //I'm afraid it doesn't seem she returned. //"Dammit." Hector pushed himself to his feet. The movement finally triggered the smart sensor, and the lights came on. He scanned the room, but it was exactly as he'd left it before falling asleep. Hastily, he went into the bathroom and voided his bladder.

To his delight, his urine was almost a normal color. The thought reminded him of the bullet-eating nanites he'd taken, and he pressed his fingers into his sore hip—nothing. He rotated his shoulders; they felt good, though his right one was a little stiff. Relieved that at least that much had gone well, he walked over to the bed and sat down. Pulling on his boots, he stared at the window where Evie's report awaited.

It expanded into his field of view: //Corpus vivum conditioning complete and level advancement has been applied. Note: This was a Fulcrum level for Brawler. You've uncovered new pathways that will lead to higher-tier archetypes. Level results are as follows: Strengthened aura pathways, increasing maximum load—use caution when exploring this limit to avoid aura overload Aura Pool increased from 12 to 16 Strength increased from 10. 4 to 13 Speed increased from 11. 7 to 12 Vitality increased from 9.

9 to 11 Aura Potentia Available: 26 End Report. // Directly beneath that first report was another: //Archetype convergence point detected: Brawler + Berserker ->? Further convergence point detected: Watcher + Berserker ->? // Evie? What's with the convergence points? //You know how that works: pathways from one archetype meet with pathways from another to expose advanced opportunities—could be other archetypes or maybe abilities or boosts. // This was a Fulcrum level for Brawler, though.

Can you see the higher-tier archetypes that opened? //One moment. Generating. // //Brawler Tier-two Fulcrum opportunities: The Breaker – force concentrated, momentum perfected, limits shattered—armor-crusher, line-breaker, siege fist. The Grappler – leverage mastered, balance stolen, bodies bound—controller, suppressor, close-quarters dominator. // Hector sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

He wanted to spend more time thinking, but he felt an urgent pressure to get out of the little bedroom unit and try to figure out what had happened to Britt.

"How much potentia to advance to one of the tier-two archetypes?" //Forty. // Hector frowned. He should be able to earn another fourteen potentia quickly, but maybe not before he needed something more potent than Brawler. Unfortunately, the new pathway Evie had figured out for Berserker was also out of reach— Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. //Actually, Hector, after leveling Brawler again, the cost for Berserker has come down to twenty-five potentia.

// And do you have any idea what it'll do for me? //All I can tell you for certain is that the pathways are nearly twice as wide as those for Brawler—it's basically a tier-two archetype. I'm confident that it will lead to potent opportunities. // How long will it take? //I won't know exactly until I initiate the transition, but it shouldn't be more than six hours. // Hector had no idea what was going to happen in the next hour, let alone six, but he did know it would probably involve fighting.

Regardless of the new archetype, he knew he'd still have his Aura Blade, his Strength Boost, and his talent for fighting. The main thing Brawler had been doing for him was improving the strength and resilience of his new body. He couldn't imagine Berserker would be any worse for that. Nothing said he had to take any of the archetype's abilities or boosts if he didn't like them. //Don't forget that it has convergence points with Brawler. It may open something amazing—//"Quit trying to sell it."

Hector chuckled, shaking his head.

"Go ahead. Start the process." //Archetype migration initiated. Berserker archetype selected… Pathway broadening and propagation are underway. Nutrient supplementation and rest are recommended for the next 5. 3 hours. // The mention of nutrients made Hector painfully aware of the yawning hollow in his stomach. He stood and looked at the pile of gear on the floor by the door. His jacket was there—torn and bloody. He looked past it to the two armored vests they'd taken from the mercs.

One of them was in perfect shape—Britt had killed the owner with a head-shot. He picked it up and gave it a once-over, looking for any identifying markers or badges. There weren't any. Shrugging, he pulled it on over his blood-stained shirt. Considering there were probably some people looking for "Paul," he decided he needed to hide his face, too, so he put on one of the merc's face masks. It was more than a disguise; it was basically an upgraded version of the breather he'd lost in his fight with the aura fiend.

With the mask secured, he checked his pockets and felt a hard lump in one of them. Frowning, he reached in to pull it out, and only then did he recall the mono-wire he'd taken from the merc back in Britt's apartment building. Nodding, he tucked it away; it might come in handy in a pinch. Should have given Britt some contact information. Maybe she'd just gotten sidetracked or found a better option for a place to sleep. //Agreed, but you weren't in your best mind last night.

// Hector opened the door, squinting against the bright morning sun. He wanted to remind Evie that she was perfectly capable of reminding him of simple things like setting up comm protocols with a partner, but he knew she was reading his thoughts, so he saved himself the trouble. The first thing, other than the bright light, to hit him was the scent of food in the air. The vendors were serving breakfast to the miners, and Hector intended to get in on the action.

After all, he had to start looking for Britt somewhere; he might as well start with the food carts. He'd taken all of two steps, aiming for the lane that ran along the length of the little rectangular dormers, when a grating, speaker-enhanced masculine voice said, "Citizen, I need to speak with you." By then, Hector knew the tone of a PK's voice amplification system, and he almost reacted violently.

Another urge, barely suppressed, was the desire to channel some aura into a Strength Boost and leap atop the unit to his right and then run for it. The PK said he needed to "speak with him," though, and it didn't use his name. Those two facts kept him from overreacting. Even so, when he turned to face the tall figure, ominous in its matte-black armor, Hector's eyes were aflame with a red aura-glow—evidence that he'd almost channeled it.

The PK stomped forward, turned his helmeted head left and right, and then his voice, no longer amplified, came through the grill of his visor.

"I know who you are, and I have information you'll want to hear." Hector tilted his head, muscles tense, ready to fight or flee. He, too, looked left and right, ensuring nobody was lingering close—no listeners and no potential ambushers.

"You've got a watchdog." He didn't have to say more; the meaning was clear: anything the PK told him, anything Hector said in reply, was subject to the scrutiny of the Department of Justice and Order—Magistrate Tacitianus. The PK shook his head. His voice, when it emerged from the helmet, was barely audible.

"Blocker." He was basically admitting to treason; as far as Hector knew, PKs weren't allowed to turn their monitoring AIs off.

"You've got my attention."

"Follow me." The PK turned, servos in his exoskeletal frame whirring. Then he stomped away, walking further down the lane, along the edge of the little gray rental structures. Hector followed at a healthy distance—ensuring he'd have time to react if the PK tried something. When he saw the last row of dormers and the gravel parking lot beyond it, his heart-rate picked up—Britt's car was there. What's your game, peacekeeper?

When they were past the last structure, the PK turned in a slow circle, ostensibly to ensure they were alone, then he reached up to the faceplate of his helmet and touched something. Pressurized air hissed out as the faceplate separated and lifted away, exposing the man's face. He was young—older than Hector's new skin, but not more than thirty. He looked haggard, though—maroon circles under his eyes and a few days of beard growth. Scars marred his lips, but he was handsome in a way.

"Logan," Hector guessed. The man nodded.

"Britt's okay—safe for right now." He shook his head, eyeing Hector.

"Hard to believe you're not Paul. Hard to believe you took out so many of that son of a bitch's men."

"Well, believe it." Hector didn't feel the need to say Britt killed her share.

"Listen, it's not just us. Reason I met Britt last night and got her to a safe spot is that I got someone powerful helping—a benefactor. When Paul went missing, I started digging and found a bigwig at the mine who knows what Tacitianus is up to—knows he's dirty. He's the one who got me the blocker." The PK tapped the side of his helmet.

"Yeah?" Hector wasn't one to turn down powerful allies, but he also wasn't one to trust blindly.

"Weird thing is, he's the one who told me you were the one who killed those mercs. Says he knew you were back in town." Like a fuse setting off flashbangs, connections exploded in Hector's mind. He saw the suit on the train, the way he watched him, the way he made small-talk and got interested when Hector said he was a fighter. He saw him saying he'd look out for him and offering a handshake.

"Roy Janus," he said, digging deep for the name.

"You knew?" Hector shook his head.

"Not exactly. What's his angle?"

"Power, I guess. I mean, he seems like a good guy, but if we take out Tacitianus, his rivals in the company will go down."

"Good." Logan arched a sweaty eyebrow.

"Why's that good?"

"Means he's not pretending to be a saint. You have to watch your back with people who do that." Hector folded his arms, his mind racing down a dozen avenues.

"What's his plan? I take it he has one?" Logan nodded.

"I don't know the whole thing, but it starts with you registering for the fight tonight. Once you do that, you'll get a pass to the central RMC headquarters up near the rim. Janus will meet with you there."

"And you?" The peacekeeper shrugged—an almost comical sight in his bulky armor.

"I'm just hanging on by my fucking fingernails, man. You know what it means that I'm going up against a magistrate? There are channels to address corruption; it's just—""He's got connections."

"Yeah."

"I get it." Hector knew all too well how corrupt the supposedly blind justice of the IDJO was. As the complaint climbed the ladder, eventually someone who owed Tacitianus or his patron family, House Tacitus, would come along, and everything would get swept under the rug. Maybe Logan would disappear for his trouble. Maybe he'd just get transferred to an outpost on some hellish moon or asteroid. The peacekeeper cleared his throat.

"So? You in?"

"Always have been." Hector turned back toward the dirty sprawl of Tent Town.

"I'm going to get some food first, though."