Seven Thunders Spoke

A Guilty Gear Alternate Universe

By Seishuku Skuld (skuldchan at gmail.com)

and Skuld no Shinpu (chang.459 at osu.edu)

Chapter One

Frederick fanned himself wearily as he sat behind the little store front counter, watching the passersby go about the business on the street just outside the door to his fix-it shop. There were always things that needed repair, but for the past week not more than one or two people had set foot in his shop a day. The fan—a ragged piece of fabric stretched over a curved bamboo frame glued onto a stick—hardly moved the stagnant, humid air as it flapped back and forth, and what little breeze it generated didn't even seem to make a dent in the wall of hot summer air that sat like a heavy block about the city.

Frederick half wanted to be out and about as well, anywhere but behind the counter perched on the top of a stool with his waist-length ponytail sticking to the back of his shirt, but it was no cooler outside than it was in, and at least indoors he had a roof above his head and shade from the sun. Off to the side he could hear Ky in the kitchen, the clattering of tools and the clinking of metal-on-metal. He could hear the creak of screws as Ky brought the screwdriver to their heads, he could hear Ky humming a French nursery rhyme, and if he strained hard enough he could almost hear the buzzing of the magic in the transformer that Ky was working on.

Frederick grunted. "That's the last time I let him sweet talk me into sitting here." He glanced balefully at the clock on the wall, whose hands seemed to be moving entirely too slowly. It wasn’t even noon yet and already Frederick felt like he ought to close up shop and call it a day.

Frederick leaned his elbow on the countertop, fought back a yawn and closed his eyes. Bad business all week, he mused, wondering why that was the case. His friend Axl, who had been too busy doing his own thing to stop by for the past few days, made up half of his work. As for the other half...maybe a rival mechanic shop opened up somewhere else. Or maybe things were just going slow and everybody who had broken things were staying inside. Frederick couldn't blame them, if he didn't even want to go outside, then there were surely more urgent things to do than get household knickknacks repaired.

Frederick was just beginning to doze off when Ky shouted his name.

"Frederick!"

Jolted out of his nap, Frederick jumped off the stool, grateful for any sort of distraction from his boring job of sitting and staring off into space.

"Here," Ky said, appearing in the doorway that led to the kitchen and the workbench that also served them as a table. His blond hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his cheeks flushed red from the heat. He shoved a small table lamp into Frederick's hands. "Done."

"That was quick," Frederick said, taking the lamp and setting it on the shelf behind the store counter. "What was wrong with it?"

"Had to replace the submatter coil in the matter transformer," Ky said. "Those new amarantyne coils aren't cheap either. The labor's not much, but if our customer wants his lamp back he's going to have to pay for the new coil."

"Gotcha," Frederick said glumly. If Ky was telling him how much the repairs were costing, it meant that he was going to be stuck behind the counter until closing, or at least until the customer came and picked up his lamp. He watched as Ky put the tools away, poked his head into the small cube refrigerator and took stock of the food situation.

"What's for lunch?"

"I'm thinking rice porridge, as usual."

Frederick tried not to make a face. They'd had rice porridge every day for the past month. He was beginning to forget there was ever a day where he didn't have rice porridge for both breakfast and lunch. But he supposed he shouldn't be complaining; in the world as it was nowadays, there was definitely worse. They scraped a decent living for themselves thanks to their shop and their skills, which was more than to be said for most of the poor people who made a living either by enlisting in the army, or working in the factories for the war effort. Very rarely were there flourishing businesses; everybody just found some way to get by. There was very little money to be had these days, much less than there used to be, though Frederick couldn't have said for sure because he couldn't remember anything but the last fifteen years.

"I'm heading out to Cloudberry," Ky said. "I just remembered that Jam promised me a few slices of some shachao beef she made yesterday. I forgot to pick it up this morning."

"I'll coming too," said Frederick, his expression brightening visibly. He was not entirely fond of the young owner of Cloudberry Cafe, but it was better than sitting in his store doing nothing, and he might even get a free meal out of it.

Ky snorted. "You are not going if all you're thinking about is a free lunch. She's giving us food already."

"More free food can't hurt," Frederick replied with a grin. "Besides, we fix her stuff all the time. It's one thing or another at least once a week. Either her lights aren't working or the stove won't turn on, or whatever small things she can find to malfunction end up malfunctioning. She doesn't even in pay us in anything but food anymore. And we do her the favor of making house calls."

"I do not approve of schmoozing."

"Hey," said Frederick as he hurried past Ky and outside into the gray sunshine, "who's doing the schmoozing?"

Ky shook his head. It was true that they were doing Miss Jam a lot of favors. The appliances she had scrounged up when she had set up her cafe were all old, discarded equipment that had been thrown out by wealthier establishments. They'd helped her repair and set up a lot of her kitchen, and were still fixing the occasional odds and ends when parts broke down. If anything, she owed them more than just lunch, but all the same Ky disapproved of Frederick tagging along expressly for the purposes of having lunch, which was probably just going to be cold rice porridge anyway.

“Who’s going to watch the shop while we’re gone?” Ky called, but Frederick had his back turned to him and was already out of earshot.

*~*~*

Cloudberry Cafe wasn't to so much a cafe as it was a collection of benches and tables arranged under a giant brown tarp. It was never crowded but it was never empty either, and even in the slow afternoon hours there would always be some person or other sitting down, sipping tea, and contemplating the end of the world. When it was busy there was always a pleasant smell wafting from the small stone kitchen, and always a buzz as groups of the citizens of Beijing exchanged the latest news and predictions about the war. The entire cafe was run by Jam herself, a young Beijing native orphaned at the age of ten who had since achieved her childhood dream of one day owning her own eatery and cooking for the masses. Frederick admired her tenacity in that respect—it wasn't easy for a girl to set up a business on her own and make it successful. In all other respects, Frederick politely withheld opinion.

Even during the busy lunchtime hour, Jam spotted Frederick and Ky as soon as they rounded the corner. By the time they arrived, she had freed one end of a bench for the both of them and set down two steaming cups of green tea.

"Hello!" Jam said with a grin, barely setting down their cups before going to off to help another customer, not even waiting for a response.

Frederick stared in dismay at his hot tea. "Can't she make us iced tea or something?" he muttered.

"It's not civilized," Jam replied tersely as she walked past them on her way back to the kitchen, both hands laden with dirty plates.

Frederick's eyes narrowed after her. He could've sworn that if there was anybody on this planet that had hearing more acute than his, it would be Cloudberry’s Miss Jam. Not only did it seem like she could pick the very thoughts from his mind, she picked up every piece of gossip from every single conversation that happened at her small cafe and exaggerated it tenfold. He could've sworn the last time this half of the city had holed itself up in a panic was because Jam had been talking to one of her customers and had likened a small crack in the city's outer wall to an "elephant sized breach." Frederick wondered how Ky could sit as he did, so serenely sipping a cup of tea hotter than the weather. Just looking at the thing made Frederick break out into an even heavier sweat.

"Just drink your tea," Ky said after a moment of long silence where Frederick hadn't even made a move to touch his drink. Ky's eyes went to the kitchen as he brought the cup to his lips and hissed, "she's not going to serve you until you drink her tea."

"Fine," grumbled Frederick and did as he was told.

"Don't forget to compliment her on it. She set out this special brew just for us."

"Wonderful tea," Frederick said as Jam came out of the kitchen again, bearing more plates with steaming hot buns and aromatic, seasoned vegetables.

"Oh, do you like it?" Jam asked as she floated briskly by again, not even turning her head to look at the pair as she talked to them. "I set aside that tea just for you."

"Wonderful Dragon Well," Ky said with a polite smile and Frederick nodded. “Its flavor is very rich and smooth. You must have brewed it and left it out in the sun for a couple of hours.”

"It’s great,” Frederick agreed, eyes watching Jam as she went back to the kitchen. He heard her laugh, her high voice punctuated by the sharp scrape of a spatula on a wok.

"Oh Frederick," she said, shouting loudly so the entire cafe could hear, "you don't know a thing about tea, do you?”

Frederick shot daggers at the girl and the only thing that stopped him from yelling back a retort was Ky's foot treading on his toes. Ky shot him a stern look, and Frederick bit his tongue and took a swig of to tea keep from giving Cloudberry's owner a piece of his mind. The things he did for a free meal.

If it weren't for the fact that Jam was one of the best cooks he had ever met, he would never have put up with her. She was usually polite to all of her customers, especially Ky, whom Frederick was sure she had taken quite a fancy to. But whenever Frederick stopped by Cloudberry alone Jam would only laugh and call him a “big stupid oaf” which Frederick resented, but dealt with mostly due to Jam's amazing culinary skill. And he was sure that she only dealt with him because he fixed her things when they didn't work. There was a tentative truce between them, in that Frederick enabled her to continue running her business and she fed him in return. There were no obligations beyond that aside from the occasional polite exchange.

"There we go," Jam said, bringing out two large bowls. She smiled as she set them down in front of the two men. "Rice porridge with some cold shachao beef and scallions. I figured I'd better make something cold for you two because it's such a hot day outside."

She put a hand on Ky's shoulder and Frederick bent down quickly over his bowl to keep from scowling at her. "Oh Frederick, what in the world would you do without Ky? I bet you wouldn't even know what to say in polite company."

"Yup," said Frederick, staring at his bowl of food and determined not to rise to the bait.

"Well, thanks for the food," Ky said, trying to mitigate the situation. The tension between Jam and Frederick seemed to fizz and crackle. Half the cafe had gone silent, the usual gossipers whispering quietly to each other as they watched the scene unfold and secretly hoped for a fight. "But I think Frederick's just a little shy sometimes. He's actually quite smooth in conversation with someone he knows well."

“Oh?” Jam asked archly and Frederick sat in stony silence looking like he was completely occupied and absorbed with eating his lunch. “Well, you two enjoy your meal. I’ll go pack off the rest of the beef so you can take that with you when you go.”

“Thanks again,” Ky said, and a heel on Frederick’s foot prompted him to do the same.

“Thank you,” he said once he had finished swallowing, but Jam was already out of earshot, seating a customer who had just arrived. Frederick shook his head and turned back to his food. “She hates my guts.”

Ky shrugged, a little uncomfortable. It was painfully obvious to him, as well as everybody else who frequented the café, that Jam was in love, and she didn’t have the least bit of shame in displaying her affection. Ky had told her in private, on many occasions, exactly who he was currently attached to and that he wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship outside of friendship with her. Quite unanticipated, that little talk had made her even more affectionate. Aside from her overbearing, motherly displays and her coldness to Frederick, she was an honest, hard-working individual whom Ky respected.

“She’s harmless,” Ky said, chewing slowly on his food.

“Huh, not from what I hear,” Frederick said quietly, looking around warily to see if Jam was in earshot. “Everybody’s talking about that time she beat up that eat-and-run. Heard she smashed his face in and broke half his ribs.”

Ky raised an eyebrow. “Martial arts probably ran in her family. Besides,” the Frenchman smiled, a mischievous grin sliding across his pale features, “you aren’t intimidated are you?”

Frederick popped a few joints experimentally. “Not at all.”

One of the first things Frederick had found out when he had woken up beside the old Shibalidian along the Fourth Ring Highway was that he could take anyone down and not break a sweat. He had no idea where he had learnt his skill, but it had come in handy on more than just one occasion. He was certain that half the frequenters of Cloudberry were hoping for some sort of fight to break out between the two of them one day, and most of them had their bets placed on Miss Jam. If the opportunity ever arose, Frederick would enjoy proving them wrong.

“If you ever start anything, I’m going to kill you,” Ky warned.

“I’m not startin’ anything,” Frederick said, looking innocent as he scooped up another spoonful of porridge, “but I can’t make any guarantees if somebody starts with me.”

“Just eat your food.”

The rest of the lunch passed uneventfully. Halfway through Jam sat down next to Ky and had a bite to eat, talking all the while about how good business was going for her despite the heat, and how it was so nice for Ky to drop by occasionally because her rice cooker had mysteriously stopped working earlier that morning, and wouldn’t he be so kind to take a look at it for her.

“Sure,” Ky said with a tight smile, barely half done with his bowl of porridge.

“Oh, no rush of course,” Jam replied in a tone which meant that it was of the utmost urgency.

“I’ll take a look at it,” Ky said, setting down his chopsticks and getting up. “It’s not like anything’s going to go cold anyway.”

Frederick cleared his throat, seeing an opening for escape. “Well, I better get back to the shop. Thank you for lunch,” he nodded to Jam who was already disappearing into the kitchen with Ky, both hands latched onto his arm.

“Goddammit,” Frederick muttered with annoyance, turning around and walking back home alone.

*~*~*

“We’re closed already,” Frederick yelled through the glass as Axl strode up with a grin and wave. The blond had his hands stuck in his pockets and a bright red, sweat-soaked bandana wrapped around his shoulder-length blond hair. “Come back tomorrow!” Frederick grinned and emphatically turned the “open” sign around so it read “closed.”

Axl just laughed and shrugged. “All right man, I’ll take my business elsewhere!” But he made no move to leave as he stood, slouching, and turned to the side, showing Frederick a giant pack on his back. “Got some packages for ya’! Special delivery from my good friends.”

When Axl said “my good friends” he always meant the Scavengers. They were groups of orphans, mostly young men in their twenties or their thirties, either deserters from the war effort or those who had always been orphaned and didn’t know any other way of life. There was plenty to be had around Beijing, battles had pushed humanity’s dwindling population closer, tighter together and now most of the outer edges of the city lay abandoned. The city walls were erected over the remains of the Eighth Ring Highway, powered by large submatter transformers which lined the entire perimeter of the wall. There were few gates built into the wall, for there was little reason to go out and about. The roads that went in all four directions were mostly abandoned, and used only for the army or the government shipping supplies to the other cities. It wasn’t hard to sneak out with a convoy in the earlier morning hours and spend time exploring the abandoned rubble of the Ninth and Ten Rings. There was a lot to be had there, even things that were powered by sources supposed to be outlawed over a hundred years ago—BlackTech. Weapons, household gadgets, anything and everything was simply there for the plundering, though often broken and unserviceable. Frederick and Ky were two of the few who knew how to repair BlackTech, and were amongst the most competent in the city not already under the government’s employ to service magic technology.

The Scavengers were good sources of business that Frederick and Ky did on the side and at nights after their little shop closed up for the day. They never asked where their jobs came from or where they were going after they were fixed. Frederick and Ky did their work, got their money, and didn’t say a thing, but it was obvious to them where some of their things went. The weapons were sold to highest bidder—often to the government or the army, though not always. As for everything else, it didn’t really matter to Frederick or Ky one way or the other.

Frederick cocked his head to the side and motioned that Axl should come in through the side door. Ky looked up from the workbench as Frederick entered the kitchen, folding up the news report for the day.

“Axl’s here?”

“Yup.” Frederick opened the door.

“’bout time.”

“Hey!” Axl shouted, throwing his arms up and giving Frederick a good-natured slap on the back. “Haven’t seen ya’ in days!”

“Yeah,” Frederick said, leading Axl to the bench.

Ky scooted over to make more room for them. “Good evening.”

“Yo!” Axl responded and wrapped his arms around Ky in a large friendly hug. “How’s business going?”

“Slow,” Frederick replied, relieved that Axl’s arrival heralded the end of boredom, at least for the next week or so.

Axl winked. “Good thing you two have got me here. Well,” Axl spoke, unloading his back and setting it down on the bench, “the boys have dug up some new and exciting stuff. Here.” Axl pulled out a couple of weapons, old rifles of some sort.

Frederick looked at them. “Nothing we haven’t seen before,” he said, with a shrug, wondering what had Axl so excited today. The man was usually cheerful and friendly—one of the few of that kind still surviving—but something had Axl more excited than usual. He passed the guns onto Ky who took a closer inspection.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Ky said simply and put them aside to work on them later. He nodded toward the bag. “What else is in there?”

“Interesting odds and ends,” Axl said with a mischievous grin. “You guys might like some of this stuff.” He upended the contents of the bag and spilled it all over the table. Various things rolled out or fell with loud, metallic clangs. A toaster, more guns, a couple of random mechanical parts of unknown origin, older submatter transformers missing key components…

Something caught Frederick’s eye amongst the pile. He saw it buried beneath the corner of an old, broken LCD display. It was made of a mysterious alloy, colored so brightly scarlet that it stood out amongst the muted grays and dull blacks of the rest of the pile.

“What’s this?” Frederick reached for it, picked it up in his hands and examined it under the light.

It was strange, nothing like he had ever seen before. It was an awkward thing, a large red rectangular block with two faceplates on either of the two flat sides. Out one another side protruded a thick, black handle of some sort, molded asymmetrically from strange, soft material. It looked like a block on a stick and served no obvious purpose. Frederick would have put it down and not given it a second thought had not the sight of it quickened his breathing. He stared at it, mesmerized and desperately trying to recall where he might have encountered something like this before. He drew blanks, as usual, the same way as it was when he tried to recall anything from earlier than fifteen years ago.

Ky and Axl were putting their heads together and talking, holding an old cylinder full of dark energy transducers between them. They were trying to discuss terms of payment.

“I can’t just let you have this,” Axl said, distraught. “The Scavengers want these back. They just want you to check to make sure that everything works.”

“What are they going do to with them? They’re parts, they useless unless they’re hooked up to a matter transfer grid.”

Axl glanced over at Frederick, but Frederick wasn’t paying attention. “I can’t man, I’m just a package boy. You’re supposed to be paid in coin, not materials.”

“Come on,” Ky said reasonably, “can’t you ask them for us? At least let us keep half. We need them; there’s a shortage right now, and they’re hard to find.”

“That’s probably exactly why they want to keep them.”

Frederick, still engrossed, rotated the object in his hand. He examined one end of it and held it by its handle, the red block of metal facing downwards. His palm fit the handle perfectly as his fingers wrapped around the soft material. He held it like that for a few seconds before deciding it looked rather silly. He put it back on the table and found that he was loathe to put it down.

“Fine, I’ll talk to them. You’re lucky they like me, Ky, or they’d probably have my head just for asking.”

Ky laughed and patted Axl on the shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll owe you one.” He looked over to the thing on the table in front of Frederick and took note of Frederick’s troubled expression. Ky fidgeted uncomfortably. Was this another one of those things out of Frederick’s troubled, dark past? If it was, he didn’t want Frederick to have anything to do with it.

“What’s that?” Ky asked carefully.

“Ah,” Axl said, beating Frederick to the punch, “this is what the boss wanted me to bring to you guys. He doesn’t have any idea what it is and he was hoping you two would know.”

Ky shook his head. “I’ve never even see an alloy like that.”

Frederick picked it up again. “Neither have I,” he said. “But…” Frederick pointed to the end of the block opposite the handle. “There’s a slot here. Obviously something’s missing. And look at this.” He handed it to Axl. “Look through the slot. Do you see something?”

Axl shook his head. “No.”

“That’s the edge of a transducer right there but it’s positioned funny. The only use for that sort of configuration I can think of is if there’s something else touching it on that side. Something rather large, like the terminals of some sort of battery that allows electron flow.”

Axl raised his eyebrows. “Wow man…”

Ky remained on the bench, quiet. Whatever he was thinking, he was keeping it to himself. He finally spoke. “So…do you know what it is? Who would meld BlackTech and conventional magical energy?”

“I have no idea. It’s never been done.”

“Well…what does it do?”

“I don’t know. BlackTech electricity and magical energy combine to form a more powerful, but more unstable form of energy…but I have no idea what this thing is supposed to do. I suppose it’s useless without whatever it’s missing that’s supposed to fit in this slot here.”

“So…” Axl asked carefully, “what do I tell my boss when I bring this back to him?”

“Tell him it doesn’t do anything,” Frederick said simply.

“So he should probably just strip it for parts?”

“No,” Frederick said with a frown. “I think he should keep it.” He certainly didn’t know why it ought to be kept and not stripped, but something told him that keeping a mysterious object like that might be a good idea. Who knows what it could be used for later. “He might find the missing part.”

Axl nodded. “Is that all I should say?”

Frederick looked to Ky, and Ky looked right back. “Yeah,” he said. “I don’t think there’s anything else to it. But if you find something that fits into that slot, bring it to me. I’ll figure out what it does.”

“All right,” Axl put his hands out and Frederick gave him the thing. Axl put it back into the bag and reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out a flask. “Well, now that work’s officially over for me…how about a couple of drinks?”

*~*~*

One of the few luxuries Frederick and Ky had in their home was a fan. It was powered by a Size 3 submatter transformer, which was the smallest sort of device that could provide enough energy for a fan, and a size larger than most conventional power sources.

Frederick couldn’t sleep. The heat had abated just a little since the sun had set, but the humidity had stayed. He groaned silently, wondering how much longer the horrendous heat wave was going to last, and whether or not it was product of some Gear technology, invented by a Gear who had a very sarcastic sense of humor. But Gears didn’t have personalities, so it must just have been God.

Frederick was almost naked and covered in just a thin cotton sheet, and were it not for the fan blowing directly on the bed, the night would have been completely unbearable. As things stood, there was still a slim chance he’d get some sleep. Frederick rolled onto his stomach—trying his best not to jostle Ky on the other side of the bed—buried his head in the pillow, and hoped the fan would air out his back some so his hair would unstick from his skin.

“…Frederick? Are you still awake?”

“Yeah. What is it?”

There was a pause as Ky opened his eyes and rolled around to look at Frederick. Frederick lifted his face from the pillow to look right back at Ky. In the background, the fan whirred softly as Ky opened his mouth to speak.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That thing Axl brought in today.”

“Uh…” Frederick hesitated, not quite sure what to say, and not quite sure that he ought to say what he wanted to. That red…block that Axl had brought to him had felt vaguely familiar. Maybe it had been the theory of mixing magical energy with electricity, maybe he’d read that theory somewhere before he lost his memory. “Well…” he began, but Ky cut him off.

“I saw the look on your face. It bothered you.” Ky frowned. “What do you think it is?” Frederick may not remember, but Ky would bet his life that it was somehow involved with Frederick’s forgotten past. He’d seen that look on Frederick’s face before, and every single time it only uncovered more mysteries than it solved.

“I don’t know,” Frederick replied uncertainly. He sighed. Dammit, he just wanted to go to sleep. He was still hot, still sweaty, and now he was tired to boot and a little bit thirsty and the last thing he wanted in the world was Ky worrying about him. Frederick sat up. “I don’t know,” he said firmly. “It gives me a weird feeling, but I can’t remember anything. I can’t tell whether it’s the ‘I’ve seen it before’ feeling or the ‘This is new and interesting feeling,’ but I hope it’s the latter.”

“You hope?” Ky pushed himself onto his elbows.

“Yeah, I hope.”

“Well, what do you think?” Ky had found that by and large, what Frederick hoped and what he thought about things were two entirely different matters. “If you had to make a guess, what do you think that thing is?”

Frederick put his head in his hands. He had felt this since the very beginning, since he had first seen the thing, picked it up and looked at it. He didn’t want to say it, hell he wasn’t even sure. Maybe he was paranoid. Maybe he was just making things up.

“I don’t think I can—“

“Frederick,” interrupted Ky sharply. He had a keen eye for when Frederick was trying to weasel his way out of something, and he knew when to put a stop to it. Ky sighed and softened his tone. “You know, your hunches are almost always right.”

Yeah, Frederick thought glumly, and added that to the long list of mysteries about himself.

“…Freddie,” Ky pressed, using his pet name, “what is it? What is that thing?”

Frederick closed his eyes. He didn’t want to say it, because he didn’t want to believe it was true.

“I think…” he began slowly, “I think it’s supposed to be a weapon.”

*~*~*

It was late but Chipp still wasn’t sleeping. He was sitting in at desk, reclining in his chair with his feet on the table, crossed at the ankle, nursing a drink. If there was one thing that never went scarce even during wartime, it was alcohol. God bless it.

“Tell me what he said again,” Chipp said, eyes on the ceiling as he thought about it.

”He said he found the positioning of the transducer very odd, and immediately concluded that it must have been made to touch an electrical battery. He also pointed out that such a melding of BlackTech and magic would produce a more powerful, but unstable form of energy.”

Chipp nodded. “Not entirely outside the bounds of an educated fix-it man. But still, highly unlikely.”

Anji, who was in the room also, nodded in agreement as he pushed up his glasses, which had the penchant for slipping down his nose.

Chipp sat for a moment in deep concentration, his brows furrowed as he thought through his plans. “All right,” he said suddenly, having made his decision. He sat up straight and took his feet off his desk. “Anji Mito, inform the Sacred Order of Holy Knights that I want this Frederick and his partner Ky to be recruited by the Order immediately. They’ve spent enough time observing, they ought to do something. And if anyone protests, they will come see me personally. We can’t have these two, very potentially dangerous men, to be wandering about Beijing on their own. If they prove useful it will be all the better for us, and if they’re in the Order we’ll get to keep an eye on them as well.”

“Yes sir,” Anji Mito said.

“And you,” Chipp turned to the room’s other occupant. “Thank you for your cooperation, Lieutenant Axl…Low was it? Your job is now to convince Frederick and Ky Kiske that they want to, and ought to join the Order. Reveal your position if need be, but don’t use force. I leave everything else to your discretion.”

“Yes sir,” Axl Low saluted.

“Dismissed.”

Anji and Axl both made for the door.

“Oh wait, Anji, one more thing.” Chipp picked up his glass and drank from it. It was the worst whiskey he had ever tasted, but it did its job.

“Sir?”

“Don’t tell Sharon about this. Or anyone else.”

“Understood.”