The pair had ridden through the night, Elissa unwilling to stay anywhere near the Forge city longer than absolutely necessary. Dusthaven's weathered wall finally came into view, the familiar outline bathed in the faint glow of dawn. The tension that had knotted her neck during the long, silent ride began to ease, though only slightly, as the sight of home grew clearer.

  She called ahead, the crackle of the comm ensuring the nightwatch was ready to open the gates. As the massive doors groaned apart, the pair passed through without delay. Elissa issued a curt order to the guards stationed there, her voice sharp despite the weariness in her bones. "Double up patrols. Report anything—anyone—unusual immediately. No exceptions."

  The guards saluted briskly, and she nudged Koron to follow her lead toward her house. The hum of the bike's anti-grav plating was barely audible against the stillness of the town at this hour. As they pulled into the dimly lit yard, the porch lights flickered on, illuminating two familiar figures descending the steps. The twins' hip-length hair shimmered like rivers of molten crimson, cascading over their shoulders in the cool night breeze.

  Elissa slid off the bike and was immediately engulfed in her daughters' arms. She pulled them close, their warmth seeping into her, banishing the night's chill. For a fleeting moment, the tight knot of anxiety in her chest unraveled.

  "I'll go get this stuff installed," Koron said, his voice breaking the moment's quiet. It was the first thing he'd said to her in almost twelve hours. His tone was steady, but distant, as if speaking more out of obligation than intention. Without waiting for a reply, he guided the bike toward the pump site, its anti-grav hum fading into the background.

  Kala stepped back from the hug, her sharp gaze flicking from Koron's retreating figure to her mother's face. Her brow furrowed, but she stayed silent, letting Tara speak first.

  "Mr. Koron," Tara called after him, her tone soft yet insistent as she pulled her robe tighter against the cold. "You don't have to do that tonight, you know? There's no rush. Maybe you should—"

  She turned to her mother, but her words faltered. Elissa's expression had shifted, her features drawn tight and shadowed by something Tara couldn't quite place. The lines of exhaustion, frustration, and something deeper etched into her face stopped Tara's offer cold.

  "Go inside, girls," Elissa said, her voice quieter now but firm. She nodded toward the open door. "Koron's got work to finish, and it's been a long night. We'll talk in the morning."

  Tara hesitated for a heartbeat, glancing toward Kala as if seeking reassurance, but Kala gave a slight shake of her head. Together, the twins obeyed, their bare feet scuffing softly against the sand covered steps as they headed inside.

  Elissa lingered in the yard for a moment, her eyes fixed on the direction Koron had gone. The faint hum of the bike was already lost to the quiet of the sleeping town, leaving her alone under the vast expanse of the night sky.

  Tomorrow. There would be time for explanations tomorrow.

  -

  Rubbing her eyes, Elissa spun one of three dataslates in a slow, bored circle as she waited for Doc to arrive. Milo for his part was sitting by the window of the bar, cigarette smoke wafting away. Yannek for his part, was keeping an eye on the stovetop as the shardbean pancakes slowly formed, his bald head catching the light.

  The clomp of Docs augmetic leg preceded her as she stepped inside. "Sorry, the Fudd's were early in asking questions about the water. Had to show them the slides before they believed me about still needing to boil the water."

  Milo grunted as he flicked the remnants of his cig out to die in the bare sand. "No worries Doc, just arrived a minute ago myself." Picking up his lasgun, he shuffled over to the roundtable where Elissa sat with the dataslates, picking one up as he retook his seat.

  Nodding as she took her own seat, Doc pulled from her jacket a small metal container, the sharp scent of whiskey hitting Elissa for a second. Ignoring the distinct scent, Elissa tapped a few buttons, graphs and stats rolling across the screen as she began.

  "So, while the water pump and the reactor are back up, our basic needs are secured for the time being. That said, the towns barely making our payments to the caravans, and our credits shot to hell. We get any major losses or a sudden need, the chances of us being able to cover it are slim to none."

  "Expanding out further into the Sea is really our own means of making more cash." Milo grumbled as he leaned forward on one arm. "A hundred years of salvage has stripped all the good stuff out of the wrecks nearest to us, so we're down to hauling in hull pieces, and those are just raw materials to the caravans."

  "Speaking of, the next group that's coming through is what, the Votives?" At Elissa's nod, Doc continued. "Then just a heads up, we're short on immunosuppressants and antibiotics. I got enough for maybe seven more, fourteen if I shave the recommended doses to the absolute minimum."

  "Fuck. That alone would chew up most of our budget." A sigh escaped from Elissa as she eyed the remaining thrones. "That's not even accounting for weapon parts, the hydroponics or the animal feed. We need to expand, which means digging deeper into the mountain, which means more pipes and conduits, wiring, ferrocrete-"

  "El, we know." Milo cut her off with a hand on the shoulder. "We know, don't get stuck in your head on it, okay? We'll manage. We got power, we got water, and our food situation is…well, not great, but its not terrible either."

  Her fingers tapped a unsteady rhythm on the tabletop as she stared at the list, her gaze distant. "Yannek? Could you give us a minute please?" Elissa asked, Yanneks gaze meeting hers as he turned. Nodding, he plates the pancakes onto the heater, ready for the lunch rush before he makes his way into the backroom.

  "Well, that's not ominous at all." Doc muttered, taking another swig from her flask. "So, lets hear it."

  Milo nodded, silent save for the level stare he focused on Elissa.

  "Okay." Tossing her hat onto the table, Elissa ran her fingers through her crimson hair before she spoke. "Short and ugly? Im ninety nine percent sure that Koron somehow stole the pump parts from the cogboys."

  Both Doc and Milo leaned forward at that news, listening intently as she relayed the incident at the temple.

  For his part, Milo took a deep drag off his cigarette, blowing it out in a single long cloud. "Well….shit. That's suspicious as hell for sure."

  "You said the Magos was talking about his data being wiped, his cogitators bursting into flame?" Doc asked, hunched over, eyes narrowed in thought. "I've seen tech-priests able to do stuff with machines at a distance, but, well, its generally obvious. Chanting, high pitched binary, not really a subtle thing. You said the boy didn't move or anything?"

  Nodding, Elissa spread her arms wide, shoulders shrugging. "I don't know what other explanation could fit. We go in, the magos is being a shit, everything catches on fire and when we leave, lo and behold the exact parts we need. He did something, Im positive. I just…" Slumping, head in hands, her voice is ragged. "I don't know what the fuck to do. On the one hand-"

  "Fella's done a lot of work here in a short time." Milo spoke up, interrupting. "Be a real bastard move to throw him out. On the other hand…"

  "He endangered the whole town. The priests find out who, what and where, they wont even bother to ask why. They'll convert this whole town into servitors." Doc finished.

  "….What do you two suggest? I..I really am running in a circle here."

  Doc's gaze was unwavering as she considered the situation, tapping her flask against the table with a rhythm that matched the growing tension. "Alright. Let's break it down, but none of these are clean cuts. We've got three roads, and none of them come without consequences."

  She raised her hand, ticking off her options. "Option one: You return the parts to the Mechanicus. Hand them over, apologize, and tell them Koron was just a misguided kid who got a little too eager. If they buy it, we might—might—walk away unscathed. But don't kid yourself. The moment they find out about Koron, and the fact that he's been working with us, they're going to want him. And if they come looking for him, the town won't stand a chance."

  Her eyes flicked briefly toward the stairs, then back to Elissa. "Option two: We get rid of him. Throw him out, tell him to pack his things and get lost. We hope the Mechanicus doesn't trace him here, and we pray they don't dig too deep into how he ended up with us. But they're bound to come sniffing around sooner or later. And when they do, you better pray they don't make an example of all of us."

  Milo grunted, eyeing the remaining cigarette in his hand, torn. "We'd be throwing him to the wolves. That's no good, Doc."

  Doc gave a short, sharp nod. "I don't like it either. But sometimes, you must choose the least awful option." She took another swig from her flask, her voice growing darker. "Option three is the most dangerous, and the one I'm leaning toward the least. We sit Koron down. We get the whole story, and we make him understand what he's doing—what kind of danger he's put us all in. If he's truly in over his head, fine. Maybe we figure out a way to get him some proper training, but—" She held up a hand to forestall any argument. "If he's playing us, manipulating us, or worse—if he's involved with the Mechanicus in some way... then we deal with it swiftly and decisively. Not a soul finds out."

  Elissa stared at the table, her fingers brushing against the cold metal, tracing the lines of the dataslate without truly seeing it. Doc's options hung heavy in the air, and Milo's stare was sharp, cutting through her indecision.

  Doc let the silence stretch on for a moment. "The problem with the third option is that we risk the whole town. If Koron is connected to something bigger, something deeper, then we're not just dealing with a rogue techie who got too curious. We're up against the Mechanicus themselves, and they don't take kindly to us squatting on what they believe is their property."

  Elissa met Doc's eyes, her lips pressed tightly together. "So we're back to square one, huh?"

  "Pretty much," Doc replied flatly, then glanced at Milo. "Your thoughts?"

  Milo slowly exhaled, flicking ash into the bare sand outside. "We're talking about the whole damn town here, Doc. We've barely got enough to keep the lights on. Koron might be trouble, but throwing him out could bring bigger trouble. And hell, we've all seen the kid working late into the night on repairs. If it weren't for him, we wouldn't have power or water." He looked at Elissa, a soft frustration in his eyes. "We can't just hand him over to them, can we?"

  Elissa rubbed her forehead, trying to calm the rising frustration in her chest. "I don't know. I don't know if I'm even capable of doing what's best for everyone anymore." Her voice cracked slightly, but she shook it off. "But whatever happens, we're running out of time. The longer we sit on this, the worse it's going to get. We don't have the luxury of being indecisive anymore."

  Doc was quiet for a long moment, her expression unreadable as she gazed at the data slate. Finally, she spoke again, her voice less certain than before. "Whatever we do… if we decide to risk keeping Koron around, then we have to put in place contingencies. We can't afford to let this get out of hand." Her eyes met Elissa's. "And if we do let him go... we do it now. Before they come here."

  Milo's head titled slightly, the faint chirp of his voxbead catching the girls attention as he tapped the bead. Nodding after a moment, he looks to Elissa. "Got reports of a series of what sounds like explosions coming from the eastern plateau. Big dust cloud, the patrols headed in to check it out. What do you want them to do?"

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Doc's eyes narrowed. "You don't think the cogboys…?"

  Shaking her head as she stood, Elissa said "Doubtful. If they had figured out what happened, they wouldn't be bothering with blowing up the bare rocks. They would just march in here and kill us all."

  Nodding as he stood, Milo slings his rifle. "I'll take the boys, go see whats happening."

  "Alright. Stay safe."

  "Always do."

  -

  The truck's engine droned low, a monotonous hum that vibrated through the cracked earth and hung heavy in the arid air. Red dust swirled in the distance, restless spirals rising like specters from the barren expanse. The horizon shimmered under the relentless sun, the emptiness stretching endlessly ahead.

  Milo adjusted his goggles, shielding his eyes from the glare. His jaw tightened as a distant, rhythmic pounding echoed across the plateau, each deep thud carrying with it a palpable weight. It wasn't natural. It wasn't right.

  "Anyone else feel that?" muttered one of the guards in the back, his voice low, his knuckles white around the grip of his lasgun.

  Milo raised a fist, the truck groaning to a stop, its engine sputtering into uneasy silence. The air was thick with the tang of scorched rock and ozone, the faint metallic taste of unease clinging to every breath.

  They dismounted, boots crunching on brittle sand as they moved forward, lasguns at the ready. The pounding grew louder, the vibrations now tangible beneath their soles. Dust danced with each tremor, rising like smoke. As they crested the ridge, Milo's stomach sank.

  Koron was there, a lone figure in a wasteland of shattered stone. His broad shoulders rose and fell with each labored breath, his torso bare, gleaming with sweat under the punishing light. His cybernetic arms moved in a blur, piston-driven fists slamming into the iron-hard boulders with a relentless fury.

  Each impact sent cracks spidering through the rock, fragments of stone erupting into the air. Sparks flickered along his augmetics, the intricate mechanisms of his arms groaning as they delivered another shattering blow. The limbs didn't stop at his shoulders—Milo could see now that thin, gleaming struts of metal extended down his spine, their edges disappearing under skin stretched taut with strain.

  But it wasn't the raw power that held Milo's attention. It was the scars.

  Koron's torso was a roadmap of old wounds, brutal and chaotic. Burns marred his left side, their edges puckered and uneven. Deeper scars ran jagged across his chest and abdomen, their paths crisscrossing like cruel reminders of battles fought and survived. These weren't the clean, precise scars of a Guardsman hero in the holovids. They were the kind of wounds carved by predators in the dark, the kind that left no room for mercy.

  "Emperor's mercy..." one of the guards whispered, his voice barely audible.

  Milo stepped forward, silencing the man with a glance. "Koron!" he called out, his voice sharp and commanding.

  Koron drove his fists into the boulder one final time, the impact sending a web of cracks rippling outward. Dust rose in a choking plume, the silence that followed more oppressive than the noise.

  Koron didn't move at first. Then, he slowly crouched, his head bowed, his cybernetic fingers curling into fists so tight the servos whined.

  "Koron," Milo tried again, softer this time.

  The younger man's shoulders tensed but gave no reply. Milo sighed, slinging his rifle over his shoulder as he pulled out a cigarette. He lit it with practiced ease, the first drag filling his lungs with sharp, acrid relief. He held the cigarette out toward Koron, smoke curling upward in the still air.

  After a moment, Koron glanced up. His eyes were shadowed, stormy with unspoken turmoil. He reached out, his metal fingers surprisingly steady as he took the offered cig. Milo sat down in the sand beside him without a word.

  The two passed the cigarette back and forth, the silence between them heavy, but not uncomfortable. The distant hum of wind filled the gaps, carrying with it the faint grit of the plateau's dust.

  "You gonna be okay?" Milo asked eventually, his gaze drifting to the ruined expanse before them. The field of boulders was a jagged mess of rubble, as though Koron's fury had tried to shatter the world itself.

  Koron exhaled slowly, smoke trailing from his lips. "...Yeah. Sorry. Just..." He tapped his temple with a metal finger, the gesture sharp.

  Milo gave a small nod. "Yeah, I get it. Sometimes, you just gotta smash shit."

  Koron managed a faint smile at that, though it didn't reach his eyes.

  Milo leaned slightly, propping himself on one elbow. "This about those parts you grabbed from the city?"

  Koron's laugh was short and humorless, a bitter sound that caught in his throat. "Not exactly. Finished some reading." He paused, his gaze distant. "Didn't expect what I found."

  Milo watched him closely, the younger man's words tinged with a weariness that felt far too old for his age. "How old are you, anyway?" Milo asked after a moment. "You got one of those treatments? The Doc's fifty but looks half that, you know?"

  Koron slowly shook his head. "No treatments. I'm twenty-one."

  Milo blinked. "Twenty-one?" He studied Koron's scarred torso and hardened gaze, disbelief flickering across his face.

  "Signed up on the first ship out I could, ready to see the stars," Koron continued, his voice softer now, almost wistful. "Mom packed me a dozen meals, told me to brush my teeth, floss..." He let out a soft laugh, lifting one metal hand to wag a finger in the air. "Spent a fortune on braces. 'I paid for that smile, Koron. Take care of it!'"

  Milo chuckled, but the sound faded as he regarded Koron more closely. Twenty-one. Scarred like a veteran of a dozen campaigns. What the hell happened to you, kid?

  Koron's smile faltered, his expression darkening as some buried memory rose to the surface. He shivered slightly, his gaze falling to the ground. "Oh. No. Twenty-three."

  Milo let the silence settle for a moment before speaking again, quietly filing away the new age, but focused on the important bit. "El and the Doc are worried about the cogboys. You stealing those parts put a lot of lives at risk."

  Koron's lips curled into a faint grin, shaking his head slowly. "Their records are ash. No names, no faces, no data. I made sure of it."

  Milo studied him for a long moment, his gaze hard, searching, then he slowly nodded. "Alright. I'll hold you to that. Let's get back to town. You can tell me more about this when you're ready. Sound good?"

  "Yeah." Koron's voice was quiet.

  They stood together, dusting themselves off as the sun dipped lower in the sky. The truck's engine growled back to life, its sound rolling across the plateau like a reluctant sigh. Koron climbed into the truck bed without a word, leaning back against the side as the vehicle rumbled forward, shirt in his lap.

  Milo stole a glance at him as the sun painted the horizon in hues of blood-red and gold. Koron sat still, his eyes distant, the scars on his body catching the dying light. Whatever storm the kid carried, Milo couldn't shake the feeling it wasn't done raging.

  -

  The midday sunlight streamed into the taverns main room, illuminating the modest spread on the table. Pancakes, honeybloom syrup, and a few stray mugs of sunfrond tea dominated the space, the cheerful aroma clashing with the sudden tension as the front door opened.

  Milo stepped in first, his boots leaving faint trails of sand on the floor. Behind him was Koron, his bare chest revealing the stark landscape of scars that crisscrossed his flesh.

  The room froze.

  Elissa, seated at the head of the table, set her mug down with a quiet clink, her emerald eyes widening slightly. To her left, Tara blinked, her fork halfway to her mouth, an expression of soft concern settling on her delicate features. On Elissa's right, Kala leaned forward, her crimson hair spilling over her shoulders as she studied Koron with a mix of curiosity and appreciation.

  Doc, perched at the far end of the table, lowered her datapad. Her steely-gray eyes—sharp, clinical, and always observing—narrowed slightly as they traced the scars on Koron's torso. Her lips pressed into a thin line, though she said nothing.

  Koron, however, seemed oblivious to their scrutiny. His steps were heavy, his gaze distant, as if he were carrying the weight of the entire plateau he'd shattered earlier. He moved toward the staircase without a word, shirt slung over his shoulder.

  Kala was the first to break the silence, her teasing tone cutting through the tension like a blade. "So, Koron... what's the deal? You forget how shirts work, or are you trying to impress us?"

  The words hit Koron like a slap. He froze, his eyes darting toward Kala, then to the others at the table, all of whom were watching him now. A faint flush rose to his cheeks as his jaw clenched. He grabbed his shirt and held it to his chest like a shield, his shoulders hunching slightly as if to make himself smaller.

  Without a word, he turned and trudged up the stairs, the creak of each step echoing in the silence. A moment later, the soft click of his door closing signaled his retreat.

  Elissa turned to Kala; her tone sharp. "Really, Kala? Was that necessary?"

  Kala leaned back in her chair, an unrepentant grin on her face. "What? I'm just curious! Besides, can you blame me? He's hot, sweaty, covered in scars, and—mmm!" She bit her lip dramatically, fanning herself with exaggerated flair. "Much more, and I might need a change of underwear."

  "Kala!" Elissa snapped; her cheeks flushed.

  "Knock it off!" Tara yelped, her face turning nearly as red as her hair as she slammed her fork down with a clatter.

  Doc sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Kala, for Throne's sake, show some decorum. He's not a bloody holovid star. That boy is clearly dealing with something." Her tone was sharp but laced with genuine concern. "And making him feel like a spectacle doesn't help."

  Kala raised her hands in mock surrender, though her grin didn't fade. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry. But seriously, can you blame me? I mean, come on—"

  "You've made your point," Elissa interrupted, her voice tight. "We're not doing this."

  Milo, leaning casually against the doorway, finally spoke up. "You're missing the big picture," he said, his tone calm but firm. "Kid's been through a lot. Let him have some space, yeah?" He jabbed a thumb toward the stairs. "Last thing he needs is you lot gawking at him like he's some kind of sideshow."

  The table fell silent, Kala shrinking slightly under the weight of everyone's stares.

  Doc cleared her throat, returning her focus to her datapad. "Milo's right. Anyway, why did you come back with him? What happened with the explosions?"

  "That was him." Milo replied, gesturing towards the stairs. "Kid was breaking those old iron boulders into smaller and smaller rocks, with his bare fucking hands."

  "…Im sorry he was what?!" Doc half shouted.

  "That was about my reaction too Doc," Milo replied as he took a seat. "But yeah. Kid packs a punch, that's for damn sure. But, more than that? He says the, ah," His eyes snapped to the twins for a moment before continuing. "The thing we talked about, with him? He says it wont be an issue. There's nothin left for them find, so he says."

  Elissas full lips narrowed into a tight, thin line. "And you believe him?"

  "Honestly? I don't trust much anybody says. But…my guts telling me he's sure of his work. Best I can give you there."

  Rubbing her temples, Elissa sighed, absently brushing her hair back into place. "Alright. We'll…give it a week, see what happens."

  Doc tapped the table with her cybernetic hand. "Also, I want him over at my place after lunch. Those scars don't look like they were treated properly at all."

  Elissa nodded, though her eyes lingered on the stairs. "Agreed."