Dean squinted into the dusky sky, an incredulous expression falling over his features. "This is the most impractical method of transportation I've seen," he noted. "And by now, I've seen a lot." He still couldn't get over the fact that Bath had made him run several hours from Alens all the way to Basalith in Virginia. That had been in the very beginning of COTD; his boons from then were incomparable to those he had now.

"Dean!" Virigard chirped. "I want a wingsuit!"

The Knight looked down, rolling his eyes. "Viri, do you see how slow people are moving through the air?"

"But..."

"They aren't flying more than a fraction of the speed they'd maintain running on the ground." He gave her a knowing look. "Also, how would you even fly?"

"With a wingsuit," she said, as though this conclusion was obvious.

Dean's mouth twitched. "With what arms?"

Virigard held out her arms, flexing her fingers. "What's wrong with them?"

"Viri, your arms are tiny. That's why you have big feet, for burrowing."

The little jerboa looked as though she'd been struck. "I'm strong enough to slit people's throats," she retorted, whiskers bristling.

Dean sighed. Just because you have sharp claws doesn't mean you have strong arms... "Regardless, you can dig far faster than you can fly. That's a sign as good as any that flying jerboas just...aren't meant to be."

Virigard gave him a disparaging expression, crossing her arms over her chest. "Dean, make me a wingsuit," she demanded. "I'm gonna do it."

"Viri..."

Her gaze was unrelenting.

Dean scratched his head, then pulled out a strand of dragonleaf from underneath his tabard. "I have no idea how to make one of these," he cautioned. Even so, he found that, considering Virigard's size (approximately that of a bulldog), making her a flying suit wasn't too difficult. He essentially made a little suit that covered her body, growing fans of sinewy dragonleaf between her arms and legs.

When he finished, he stepped back, then cocked his head. "If you manage to fly with this suit, I'll be impressed."

Virigard swished her tail, familiarizing herself with the new membrane of dragonleaf enveloping and expanding the appendage's surface area. "Dean," she began. "How do I walk--or jump--in the suit?"

Dean gave her a look. It did look unwieldy. "How about this: I'll throw you a few feet up into the air, then you give flying a try. Fair?"

"Okay!"

"I'll give you three," he held up three fingers, "tries. If you can do it, I'll give you unlimited rum coke for a day."

Virigard's eyes grew shiny with anticipation. "I'm ready," she said, coiling into a shape not dissimilar from a cannon ball. Dean grabbed her, realizing that, technically, this was the first time he'd ever held Virigard in his hands. She was small, furry, and cute, but she definitely wasn't a cat: her bony limbs and stiletto claws made her petite form almost dangerous to hold. Dean's boon-enhanced constitution was all that protected him from being scratched or bruised as her powerful legs pushed against his arms.

Dean counted down from three, hoisting her up into the air. As soon as she reached the peak of her ascent, she expanded out her arms and legs and began to do...something. It looks like she's drowning in air, Dean thought, raising an eyebrow.

Two times later, Virigard never managed to fly: her forearms were simply too small and weak. Moreover, her legs weren't jointed to move in a sideways flapping motion. The best she could do was hold her arms and legs out horizontally; however, her uneven limbs thwarted any attempts at gliding downward.

As soon as Virigard unceremoniously touched down for the third time, Dean tore the wingsuit off of her with an effortless wave and knelt down to her level.

"Hey," he said, giving her a half grin. "If you really want to fly that much, I'll ask Fartuun to whip some kind of technology up for you."

Virigard pouted, her eyes round like bowls. "Why don't you just grow me wings?" she asked, bouncing in place. "You have caretaker boons. You could do it."

Dean's eyes rolled up to the sky, his expression complex. "Virigard," he began, "you don't need wings. You're you. You run and dig and, uh..." he made a slashing gesture at his throat. "If you had wings, you wouldn't be able to run or dig as well."

Her expression immediately brightened. "You're right," she conceded. "Actually, I want something else. I want my very own flying mount!"

Sure... Dean thought, coughing lightly. We'll see.

---

"This is seriously the most impractical method of transportation that I've ever seen," Dean grumbled, tapping his foot against a stair-like rise of white crystal. It'd already been at least two hours since they'd passed through Drift Jag's gate onto Dawn's Shadow.

"You're right," Virigard said, emulating his foot-tapping. "Sapients are bad flyers."

Dean groaned. "Why did I let them use the wingsuits on Dawn's Shadow..." he grumbled. "The planet's almost completely flat." While flying made some sense on a mountain-studded world like Drift Jag, Dawn's Shadow was the easiest planet to traverse so far. While Vast Desert was also fairly flat, its sandy dunes inhibited movement. The surface of Dawn's Shadow, on the other hand, was composed of a close-packing salt sediment. Even accounting for the planet's mildly high gravity of 1.4 times that of Earth, running across its surface was child's play. Contrastingly, flying under such increased gravity became almost ludicrous.

But of course, the vanguard's members were dead set on flying to their destination, the exit gate of Dawn's Shadow. Dean knew that there was no point in telling them to run: there was no rush, as the vanguard would technically reach the exit gate's location within a few hours. Moreover, flying appeared to provide a decent boost to morale.

However, part of him, a very large part, hated the inefficiency of taking hours to fly a distance that would take maybe half an hour to run.

"Flying is a very childish behavior," Virigard snooted, tilting her nose up into the air. "It is significantly more demanding than running. Think of all the food we'll need to feed them for dinner!"

Dean smirked. She's definitely still bitter about being unable to fly. "We'll be fine once we reach Dusk's Halo," he said. "There's supposed to be lots of good food there. Apparently, the Verdora have leased out the planet to some world close to the Core. The planet has two exit gates, one of which feeds into said world's gate-traversing shipping routes."

Virigard's little jaw dropped, revealing her over-sized teeth. "What!?"

"Yeah," Dean said, shaking his head. "Apparently, the planet's worked by a fleet of androids." As Virigard's shock deepened, Dean felt the need to clarify. "They aren't very advanced," he said. "Well, at least not compared to the verdora AI programs or AI Ninety-Seven. COTD humans have already been working to develop similar farming androids."

Virigard gave a small gasp, her mouth hinging shut with a click of her teeth. "Oh."

"Yeah," Dean said, sighing. "Apparently, worlds close to the Core are stingy with their technology. They don't want worlds on the fringe obtaining anything advanced."

"I read that in the encyclopedia," Virigard said, sighing. "It's so unfair."

Dean nodded. "Juserin really must have paid a fortune for his voyager," Dean said, referencing the verdora's all-terrain ship.

As they spoke, the vanguard came into view over the scintillating horizon, the pink-tinted blue sky accentuating the gray-green of the wingsuits. While the verdora, who had six pairs of limbs and better maneuverability, sustained flight, the human sapients didn't fly; rather, they leapt up, glided several thousand feet, and then leapt back up again.

The quasi-sapients advanced underneath the sapients at a leisurely pace. Many engaged in races with one another over the level terrain, denting out swathes of hoof-beaten track.

Dean wasn't quite sure what the quasi-bears were doing, though it apparently involved throwing the quasi-squirrels up into the air and fetching them in their mouths and paws. Some form of American football, or rugby?

He and Virigard waited another half-minute, then began to dash off again. Virigard used her claws to dig an impression into the ground, marking the way forward. She and Dean continued in this way until, finally, they arrived at a gate half-submerged in a salty pool.

Because he and Virigard arrived four-or-so minutes ahead of everyone else, Dean pulled out a city-seed and decided to get the city-making process started. However, when he put the seed on the ground, he was stumped: it seemed unable to grow.

"Viri," he said, frowning. "Can you dig down and see how far this salty substrate lasts for?" Dean figured that the salt of both the gate's pool and the top layer of the planet inhibited the dragonleaf's growth.

A minute later, Virigard popped back up. "It continues for a long time," she said, panting. "It's also really hard as I go further down. Very densely packed."

Just then, a familiar voice came from behind. "Let me see the seed."

Dean whipped around, startled. "Bath," he uttered, eyes alight with curiosity. "Do you know why the seed won't grow?"

Bath followed Dean's gaze left, falling on a diminutive nut-like capsule sitting in a small impression on the ground. He raised a hand and the city-seed rose up, seemingly suspended in air. Bath's mouth was a thin line.

"This is going to be difficult," he murmured, his voice almost inaudible. He broke eye contact with the seed, turning to face Dean and Virigard. "You've dug a hole more than four miles deep," he remarked. "Can you dig deeper?"

Virigard nodded her head almost spasmodically. "Yes!"

"Don't stop until you've located soil that doesn't taste salty."

"Yes yes!" Virigard exclaimed, gulping. Without waiting, she dashed into the hole, disappearing into its depths.

"She's scared of you," Dean said, crossing his arms. Nothing scared Virigard, at least not until Bath went crazy underneath White Sun.

Bath exhaled deeply, his gaze inscrutable. "Dean. What do you really want to say?"

COTD's Knight sighed, squinting his eyes closed. I promised Lisa I'd be diplomatic. "I appreciate how you've listened to my advice," Dean said, "and I recognize...why you modified how humans think in times of conflict. Battle. Whatever."

Bath remained silent, waiting for Dean to finish. He's unnerving when he's like this, Dean thought, shuddering involuntarily under Bath's impassive, icy stare. I can tell he's not even trying to seem human.

Dean groaned. "I understand why you've done all the things you've done. I just...I don't know why, but I'm still angry at you." He began to pace. "I know I should probably be thankful for what you've done, for making me the Knight, for ending homelessness and hunger and disease." Dean clenched his fists, knuckles turning white. "I think, at the root of all my anger, is fear and unease." Even as Dean said this, he sounded confused. "This was all so easy. So quick. This new world you've created is tenuous. I'm worried it'll snap, and that'll be it." He looked up from the ground, meeting Bath's eyes. "At the end of the day, you wouldn't care. You don't need Earth, nor humanity."

Bath waited a moment, allowing Dean time to process his thoughts. However, after it was clear Dean didn't intend to say anything more, Bath began his own response.

"We don't have much time until the others arrive, but know this: I do need humanity."

Dean could only half-suppress a scoff.

"I see you don't believe me," Bath said, his eyes flashing. "But the universe is too vast to conquer alone."

"You don't need humanity. You just need minions, and you already have your quasi-sapients."

Bath's inhuman expression melted into a warm smile. "I like humans, Dean. And I protect that which I like."

Dean just gave him a blank stare. "Why?" he sputtered. Bath certainly didn't care about humans when he sicked COTD on (essentially) defenseless U.S. soldiers, or when he sent the spearrows off to literally peck people to the point of serious injury or death. Dean's thoughts raced. He killed them by, for all intents and purposes, deploying drones. He treated people worldwide like they were hostile terrorists. Killing off people just because they stood in his way or because they "oppressed others" didn't sound like the actions of someone who "liked" humans. Moreover, considering Bath's uncanny ability to spy on people and appear in random locations at will, Dean figured that Bath must have a first-hand understanding of humanity's depravity. And he likes humans?

"There will never be a species of sapient that I understand more," he prefaced, clasping his hands behind his back. "...As I never intend on spending millions of years on a single planet ever again."

Dean wasn't sure he understood why this mattered. Seeing his perplexed expression, Bath continued to expound upon this point.

"I was upon the Earth when it was empty, Dean." He gave the Knight a serious look. "I was there from the beginning. I remember feeling, seeing, perceiving the world for the first time. Vague memories, but there is a beginning to my recollections, when the first microorganisms developed the ability to sense the world around them. You humans arose out of these humblest beginnings." Bath now took one arm from behind his back, holding his hand out in front of him. "I'm only able to think as I do now because of your species' evolution."

Dean swallowed.

"So," Bath said, teeth shining white through his parted lips. "I like humans."

Dean wasn't sure what to make of Bath's speech. Does he feel gratitude toward humanity? he wondered, uncertain.

"Time's up," Bath breathed, turning around. "The vanguard's arrived."

Dean felt like he should say something, but didn't know what. Instead of saying anything substantive, he asked, "Uh, where's Virigard?"

Bath peered over at the conspicuous hole in the ground. "Your guess is as good as mine."