“What do you mean, no show tomorrow?” Dave Morney asked.

“Exactly what it sounds like. We’ll record some footage today that we can air tomorrow, but we won’t do anything more live, not until things calm down again,” Patricia responded.

“But this is the ‘Mornings with Morney’ show. We always go live. Every weekday for the last three decades. What possible reason could be good enough to justify breaking that record?! Where’s Jean, let me talk to him myself, he’ll see sense.” Dave responded angrily. He made to push by Patricia, but she grabbed his arm.

“Dave, Jean’s dead. I just got the call an hour ago. Along with half of the crew who didn’t show up yesterday, dead or missing. We’re running on backup power. This place is falling apart. This city is falling apart,” Patricia said.

“Which is exactly why people need the news!” Dave replied, but the look in his eyes showed he wasn’t as convinced as he had been a few seconds earlier. “We have a responsibility to let people know what’s going on.”

“Which is the only reason we’re even here today, and why we will be recording a message to loop tomorrow,” Patricia said. She hesitated before continuing. “After we’re done here, some of the guys and I are planning on heading to the country, Gus apparently has some family out west of town. He said it isn’t as crazy out there, you’re welcome to join us.”

“...I’ll think about it.”

- Dave Morney, Mornings with Morney, Inclusion +4 days 14:39 hours

Melete’s skill pours from her mouth. Immediately, I feel a small twinge of pain even through my plugged ears, while Pallas has dropped his gun to cover his own ears with his hands. I truly hope we find some better way to become immune to Melete’s skill soon, because if it keeps growing more powerful at the pace it has been she won't be able to use it while we're anywhere nearby, plugged ears or not.

But I push those worries aside for later and focus instead on the present, because in the seconds that follow the opening line to Melete’s song our surroundings have suddenly changed.

Our supposed crab monster 'ally' is gone, along with the bodies of the bear and dog monsters. The doorways they emerged from are still there, but they're joined by dozens of other openings in other sections of the wall, all open and faintly lit by glowing blue lines. The edges of the chamber, next to the walls and on ledges lifted above the ground, are filled with dozens and dozens, potentially even hundreds, of Alatir. Their yellow eyes roll wildly in the center of their bodies and they run back and forth crazily in response to Melete’s voice, their actions similar to that of a recently kicked anthill.

I notice these changes only out of the corners of my eyes, however, as my focus is directed elsewhere. A few feet behind where they had appeared earlier, the five Alatir of the council stand. While still larger than the other Alatir, the difference is no longer as noticeable as they look to have shrunk by at least a foot. Their actions are more controlled than those of their lesser brethren, but their twitching legs and eyes reveal they're still affected by Melete’s skill.

I focus in on the Alatir in the center of their line, slightly larger than the other four. Without hesitation, I sprint towards the Alatir councilor, machete held tight in my hand.

Only a few dozen steps separate us, but when I get halfway there the eye of the Alatir I'm charging locks onto me, and my world spins. Up, down, left, right…none of them have any meaning. Vertigo sweeps over me, dizziness adding to my growing headache. I'm tempted to reach for the ground to keep from falling to the left, worried that if I drop my machete it will fly away or spin back to my friends. I freeze, desperately trying to regain my balance.

But no, I know this is all in my head. I close my eyes for a moment and focus on my steps, on simply placing each foot in front of the other. Walking is one of the first motions humans learn, and I concentrate on replicating that basic action. With agonizing slowness compared to my earlier approach, I make a few more steps of progress before opening my eyes to see a world back in balance.

The yellow eye of the Alatir I'm charging is no longer focused on me, instead directed over my shoulder to where Melete’s voice is still echoing. But as I walk, her voice stutters and cuts out. She coughs and then resumes singing immediately, but the damage has already been done. More of the eyes of the Alatir are focused again, no longer rolling in pain and surprise.

But it's too late for them. I've made it to the line of larger Alatir and grab the body of the center one with my left hand, my right holding the edge of my machete in front of its eye.

The eyes of the rest of the council turn to me as they scuttle away, and my world spins again, even worse than the first time. I feel as if I'm about to fall to my death and for a moment almost panic, but instead I hold tighter to the Alatir body I can feel under my left arm.

More sensations pass over me. The room disappears into blackness, my body burns in the heat of a bonfire, thousands of screams of creatures I can't comprehend echo in my ears, my body freezes in the ice of a glacier. I ignore them all, focusing only on the Alatir clutched in my arms.

And then the Alatir disappears, and I can no longer feel the pressure of its body against my arm. How could it have escaped? Does it have a teleporting skill? I try to close my grasp tighter, try to grab what may be left of the escaping Alatir…and can't. There's no resistance, no feedback from my arms to indicate that anything is there, but I'm unable to bring my arm to my chest through the space the Alatir previously occupied.

I smile a grim smile and slowly bring the machete closer to where the eye of the Alatir had been.

Suddenly, everything stops. I can once again see the chamber as it truly appears, hundreds of Alatir staring intently at where I hold captive their leader. Distantly, I see Melete on her knees over a puddle of puke, Pallas slowly climbing to his feet next to her.

"Stop! Please," Melete’s voice rings out through my earplugs, and an Alatir scuttles in front of me. Among the hundreds of Alatir visible in the chamber, it is the only movement, the rest of them standing still as statues.

I pause the movement of the machete and look at the small Alatir which is speaking. This must be the diplomat.

"What do you want?" it says with Melete’s voice, but there's a desperation in the words that I'm not used to.

I look back at the small Alatir before swinging my gaze around, glancing over the hundreds of yellow eyes before finishing by staring at where the other council members stand to the side. I'm unable to look into the eye of the Alatir I'm holding hostage, but I'm sure I have its complete attention.

"What I want?" I repeat. "That's the first time you've asked us that since we arrived. But let's go back to the earlier conversation. For this entire meeting, you've been talking about what the Alatir want, if humanity is worth making into an ally or if it's better that we are your enemy. And then you told us to 'defeat our enemies' in this ridiculous trial." My grin widens as I once again make eye contact with the Alatir diplomat. "So I’m going to ask you a question now, one I want you to pass on to the council. What do the Alatir want? Do you want humanity as an ally…or an enemy?"

Silence follows my words, and I hold the machete steady in front of the eye of the Alatir leader. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Melete wiping her mouth as she stands from the ground, her face angry. At some point Pallas must have managed to get his earplugs in, but he's taking the moment to readjust them now, his gun held ready in his other hand.

But I keep my focus centered on the Alatir diplomat, who eventually looks away to the rest of the council. The silence continues until a minute later when the diplomat answers with my voice.

"The Alatir council welcomes the envoy of their new ally…humanity."

We were shuffled through a tunnel to a separate room quickly after that. The diplomat claimed the excuse that the council had 'other matters' to deal with, but I'm guessing they just weren't as comfortable being in the same room as us anymore. Which, to be fair, I completely sympathize with.

The diplomat led us to this room, claiming that we could wait here for Styx to recover before it made its own escape. That was three hours ago, and I'm starting to get impatient.

Melete, Pallas, and I are playing a speed game with a deck of cards Melete had stored in her pack from who knows where. I had spent the first hour anxiously pacing back and forth and peeking out of the room into the empty hallway, but eventually Pallas forced me to join, pointing out that worrying needlessly won’t help and dexterity training is always useful. Begrudgingly, I agreed.

Two hours and a few heated discussions over exactly how close to the deck our hands are allowed to rest later, we’re interrupted from our latest game by a familiar voice.

"Oh! E.R.S., I love this game, we have time for a few more?”

“Styx!” I yell out and stand, cards forgotten. I run the few feet over and grab her in a hug, squeezing her tight. Tension drains out of me.

A few seconds of hugging later, I step back. “Oh, your injury! Were they able to fix it?” I hope I didn’t hurt her.

“Good as new!” She replies, patting her stomach with her right arm where she had been stabbed by the spine. I’m relieved and smile at her, not sure what to say. She smiles in return, left arm still on my shoulder.

The moment is broken as Melete and Pallas walk around me, giving Styx hugs of their own. Melete smirks at me as she walks past and I blush in response, although to be honest I’m not sure why.

I notice two additional Alatir standing at the entrance to our room, and when I look their way I hear Sam’s voice. “It is good to see you again. It seems you have passed the council’s trials.”

“Looks like it,” I reply, smiling. Now that Styx is healed, I can’t find it in me to be angry with it anymore. “What’s next then? Are we free to go?”

“This is Healer Nine dash One,” Sam says as the other Alatir takes a step forward. “If there are any other injuries that need healing, they can help. Once done, I will visit the council to be sure everything is in good standing, and then you will be free to leave.”

I hesitate. It would be nice to have full use of my leg back, but I don’t know if it’s worth staying trapped in this place for another few hours. After all, what happens if the council decides to change their mind while we’re still here?

But before I can voice my thoughts, Pallas steps forward and gestures to his side. “Rib is bruised or broken. Can it fix it?”

“One moment while I confer,” Sam replies. A minute later, it looks back to Pallas. “Yes, they should be able to fix it without issue. Please lie on the ground.”

I sigh and resign myself to waiting.

I breathe a sigh of relief when Pallas is finished and it’s finally my turn for healing. Not because I’m eager to get my leg fixed -- after all, my skill is able to mask any of the symptoms while awake -- but because it means I get to take a break from the card game.

Playing with Styx just isn’t fun. Even after adding several new rules specifically to handicap her, she managed to win all but two of the games, and lost those only because Melete and I blatantly cheated. Styx’s dexterity Number, coupled with her natural speed and reaction time, is just too high for either of us to compete.

I disable my skill to reveal my still injured leg, gingerly laying it flat against the ground. The color is back to normal, but my left leg still is noticeably swollen compared to the right, and any sort of pressure produces a lance of pain.

When ‘Healer Nine dash One’ starts, I at first don’t notice anything. I simply sit on the ground with one of the Alatir’s legs resting against my own injured leg. While I wait, Sam asks me a barrage of questions at the behest of the council. Most of them it had asked before, but this time asks for further clarification and detail. Everything from geography, to climate, to religion, to technology and weapons. Occasionally, I interrupt my friends’ card game for help with topics I’m less sure of.

Eventually, I feel a slight tingling coming from my leg and tense, bracing for the pain once the actual ‘healing’ starts. But after a few minutes, I realize the tingling is all there is to it and relax once again. Two more hours pass in this manner until Healer Nine dash One steps away and Sam relates that it’s finished.

I flex my leg in amazement. It looks much better than it did before, but the healing was so gradual I hadn’t noticed any changes while it was in the process. I jump to my feet and walk back and forth across the small room, for the first time in what feels like forever moving without the constant weight of my skill pressing on my chest.

“Tell the healer thanks,” I say to Sam.

“I will convey your gratitude,” Sam says, but the healer has already scuttled from the room. “Please be patient, and I will return soon after reporting to the council.”

We return to playing cards, and although Styx isn’t quite as dominant now that there are four of us playing, I’m not able to relax. If there is any time for the council to turn on us, it’s now, after they’ve gotten all the extra information from us and we’ve been lulled into a false sense of security. My friends must share at least some of my cynicism because despite not talking about it and seeming to focus on the game, none of our hands drift too far away from our weapons.

S: 148

D:144

W: 321

I: 102

C: 101 (+1)

0

Skills: Adjust:Self, Bond:Mental