"So you mean to tell me the Alconteans know our position and can strike at us at any time." Brant said. His tonality lingered on the border between question and statement. 

He glanced over the others standing around. Before him stood Ace and Track, along with the four Innutukian captains. One of the captains rubbed an ice pack over a swollen bruise on his temple. The torn skin on the knuckles of Track's right hand suggested a connection. 

"Yes." Track finally replied, "Much of the code was too complicated to decrypt, but from what we could piece together, yes. They know where we are." 

Brant rose from his previous seat on a stool and stared out the window with crossed arms. "I really don't know what's the best course of action. Hunkering down or fleeing, they both seem equally foolish." 

Ace coughed. "Flee where?" 

"I don't know, anywhere seems safer than here, where they know us to be." 

"Of course," Track contradicted, "if we stay put, we can really ensconce ourselves and form a good defense." 

Brant spun to face the general. "This isn't a fortress, General, it's a decrepit temple. Made of wood. All it takes is a guy with some brains and a drone shooting napalm, and we're done for." 

"Drones can be shot down, Nayan." 

"Not easily. Not if they send out a whole squad of 'em." 

Track shook his head. "It seems to me you've already made your decision. You intend to run. But as Parker here already asked, where? Doesn't it occur to you that we can as easily be attacked on the road as we can here? And that on the road, we have absolutely no advantage such as we can get by staying here?" 

"Did you hear anything of what I just said?" Brant asked, "All it takes is a flame to take this thing right down." 

"Fires can be extinguished." Ace muttered, lighting a cigarette. 

Brant stared thoughtfully at the flickering flame peeking from Ace's lighter. "I guess you're right." 

"Think also of this." Track said, "We have miles of open land around this place. There's hardly anything they can do against us that we won't see coming beforehand, especially with your enhanced vision. And if we install a heat scanner to a high point, even air attacks can be seen coming from far away." 

Ace blew a plume of smoke up. "Not if they use cold fuel." 

The general eyed Ace with narrowed eyes and a tightened jaw. "Nonetheless, we'll do what we can. We have more options staying behind, is my point. Not to mention your fear is unfounded, Nayan. You have an entire corleggion behind you." 

Brant shrugged. "What's that, 20,000 men? Compared to millions?" 

"24,000, to be accurate." 

"Oh yeah, I'm sure that extra 4,000 will make all the difference." Brant said, wagging his head and rolling his eyes. 

Track growled. "If you'd like, we can depart by tomorrow morning and return home. See how well your measly 200 can stand." 

"Wow." Ace mumbled.

Both Brant and Track gave him a sharp glance before staring each other down. Silence and tension rose together. Brant could swear he saw a battle being waged by raging phantoms in the space between them. 

Finally, he cleared his throat. "You're asking me to gamble—" 

"War is a gamble, Nayan." Track snapped, "If you wanted a safe investment, a better choice would've been buying burial grounds, because then you'd be ensured a steady flow of customers right up until the moment you join them." 

Brant paled at his comment. After a hard swallow, he regained his composure. "Fair enough. Fine, we'll stay, but if we fail, you can't say I didn't warn you. That is, if either of us live to say anything at all." 

******************** 

Aaron stood under a sloping canopy just outside a pair of doors on the south side of the building. He held a book in his hand and watched as Wendy tapped a series of zeroes and ones on the buttons of a number pad. Wires strung back to the Armory standing in the grass beyond the canopy. 

After he pointed out a few more sequences in the book, she nodded and said she could figure the rest out herself. With a nod, he set the volume down and stepped away, rolling his shoulders as he did so. He glanced over at Sila, who knelt on its metal knees and patched up Baird's leg. 

Meanwhile, Hannah sat on the ground before Khemera and gave him a rapturous audience as he recounted tales of his youth as a budding martial artist with a brash nature and an overeagerness to resort to his fists. 

Aaron perked up when Keira stepped through the double doors and grinned at him. He embraced her and planted a kiss atop her head. 

"Hey sis," he said, "what's up?" 

"Not much. I mean, I am." she replied before rolling her eyes at her own words, "But I guess I'm still trying to adjust to the idea of Brant leading the Insurgence." 

Aaron shook his head. "Yeah, I don't know about it myself. He doesn't deserve such honor." 

Keira frowned. "Why's that?" 

"He nearly got you killed, for goodness' sake!" 

Sila turned its head to its master. "You forgave him." 

"Yeah, sure, I 'forgave' him." Aaron replied, "But it was more a formality than anything else." 

"Then you lied." 

"No he didn't bloody lie!" Wendy snapped at the robot, mistyping a number in her anger. "He wasn't gonna leave us alone until we accepted his bloomin' apology, and that we did. We accepted the fact he said it, but no more." 

"Still sounds dishonest." 

Aaron narrowed his eyes. "You can be quiet." 

"I can not." the robot said with a shrug. 

"Listen, buddy. You're a robot, so you don't quite understand this whole emotion thing. It's tough to go three bloody months..." Aaron's words became choked off as his throat tightened. "Three agonizing months, thinking that your sister and...no, your sisters are dead, and all through one man's selfishness. And that's not even mentioning what happened to Chariya and everybody else who died that day." 

"It would've been better to have bloody died ourselves." Wendy added. 

"Exactly!" Aaron wiped his nose with his sleeve. "And see, this man has the audacity to try leading the very men he destroyed. To act like all is well." 

"He's doin' what he can to make amends, ain't he?" Hannah asked. 

"You can't undo what he did." 

Khemera took a deep breath. "I fear you're becoming callous, Aaron." 

"How am I callous for loving my sisters?" 

"Don't be foolish. That's not what I speak of. I speak of your refusal to accept anything Brant does in recompense for his actions. You haven't changed a bit from the moment I met you, Aaron." 

Aaron frowned. "What do you mean by that?" 

"On our journey to the Iron Hallway, you had Jedrek, and you had Baird. You detested both equally, and—" 

"No sir!" Aaron snapped, "Jedrek killed my nephews...or nieces...I never got to find out which, because he slaughtered them so early! Baird was only an annoyance." 

Baird glanced up suddenly, a smirk on his lips. "Understatement of the year award goes to Aaron Korynn." 

After everybody awkwardly laughed at his remark, Khemera stretched his back. "My point is this, Aaron: You killed Jedrek because he was hardened in his filth and villainy. Baird, however, you accepted after his repentance from his blunders." 

"And...?" 

"You now have a similar situation. Brant has wronged you, somewhat like Jedrek. But he's like Baird, and wishes to right his wrongs. Yet you intend to treat him just like Jedrek. That's—" 

"Stop making that comparison!" Aaron exclaimed, "Baird let a stranger die or something, and sure, that's bad. Brant deliberately chose to let the Iron Skeleton be destroyed, murdering thousands of our men, and sealing the fate of the Kemarian Insurgence forever! Your pacifism blinds you!" 

"I'm afraid it's your furious rage that blinds you." Khemera retorted. "We all know if it were you in Brant's shoes, you would expect forgiveness, and hope for it. But yet you won't do the same for him." 

Aaron took a step closer to Wendy. "If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't even try coming back. I'd just live out the rest of my days in regret." 

"What kinda way is dat to live?" Hannah asked. 

"The life of an idiot who failed." 

"There's clearly no reasoning with you." Khemera said, "I can only pray God shows you, for there's nothing more I can say." 

"There's nothing more you need to say." Aaron declared, "He can live without my stamp of approval." 

Hannah cleared her throat and rose to her feet. "If you oppose Brant so much, then why didn't ya say nothin' last night?" 

"There wasn't anything I could've done about it then! Everybody was clamoring in his favor. It's not like my single voice would've meant a thing." 

Hannah narrowed her eyes. "You can't do dat. If ya didn't like it, you shoulda said somethin', regardless of if ya thought nobody'd agree." 

"I'm not just gonna be a contrarian." Aaron said, "I wasn't about to object without any viable alternative." 

"Then maybe ya oughtta quit complainin' and reckon we're just dealin' with the cards we've been dealt." 

"That's exactly what I'm doing. I just can't guarantee I'm taking a single order from that man." 

With that, Aaron spun on his heel and marched inside. 

******************** 

Keira sat crosslegged on her crumpled sleeping bag, her disassembled grapple gun before her. The two rectangular halves lay open on the floor, connected only by a hinge. With deft fingers, she coiled a metal-woven rope around a spinning post in the middle of the gun. At the end of the line stretched a claw. 

She felt eyes on her, so she glanced up to see Trackenkaken peeking through the open doorway. She gave him a small smile. 

"May I come in?" he asked. 

"Well, the door's open, so duh." 

Track shrugged as he stepped in, hands folded behind his back. "It's not proper for a man to enter a woman's quarters without invitation." 

Keira snorted. "Well, if I've got my door open, that is your invitation. So, what's up?" 

"I heard you enjoy collecting knives, so I figured I would add one to your collection." he said, unfolding his hands and moving them from behind his back. 

Keira eyed the weapon in his hand. On either side of the glossy wooden handle projected a sharp, slightly curved blade. Each one pointed the opposite direction from the other. 

"It's an Innutukian throwing knife." Track said as he placed it in her hands. "You'd be surprised how far you can hurl the thing." 

"I like it." Keira muttered as she turned it over in her hands, feeling the weight and smiling. "Does it have any quirks?" 

Track nodded. "Yes." He slipped a metal bracelet from his pocket and clipped it around Keira's wrist. "If you wear this, after throwing the knife, you can call it back by tapping the button." 

Her green eyes widened. "That'd be useful!" 

A small smile crept to his lips. "I thought you'd appreciate that." 

"Yeah, thanks. So, what have you accomplished this morning?" She glanced at the clock. "You've been awake for like five hours by now, right?" 

"Yes." Track said, "I wake up at four." 

"Yeah. So, what have you done?" 

He shrugged. "I mostly worked with a team of my men to decrypt the code Eagle sent off to some unknown Alcontean contact. You heard about all that, right?" 

Keira nodded. "Yeah, with some coercing, I got Ace to explain the shattered door and the red stain on the balcony. And then Baird told me about their fight directly, too." 

"Okay, so you're aware." Track sighed. "How confident are you in our chances of repelling an attack?" 

"From a force as large as what we just saw?" 

He nodded. 

"I mean, I dunno." Keira answered, biting her lip. "I've never seen what your men can do in person before. But from what I've heard, you guys aren't anything to be trifled with." 

A proud smirk made its way to Track's lips. "You've heard accurately." 

"Of course, with so many against us, my confidence definitely isn't bulletproof." 

"Well, our shields are." 

Keira rolled her eyes, but then shot the general an amused smirk to prevent any misunderstanding. "It seems your confidence is so thick, it's morphing into egotism." 

He chuckled. "Well, when one has several thousand men under their command, they can't afford even a moment of self-doubt." 

"I guess that makes sense. So you're certain we'll come out on top?" 

"There are no certainties in war, except casualties, perhaps. I'm nobody's fool, Keira. I know anything can happen. But I refuse to accept defeat until it snatches me by the throat, stares me in the eye, and says, 'I've found you'." 

Keira giggled. When the general gave her a sharp glance, she vainly tried to straighten. "Sorry, just that was funnily graphic." 

The Innutukian let out a breathy laugh. "I guess you're right." 

"I tend to be." 

After giving her a smirk, he glanced at the door, where one of his captains stood. With a sigh, he met Keira's green eyes. "Well, enjoy that knife. Sometime, I'd like to see it in your collection. But now, I have duties to attend to." 

Keira nodded, tucking her sigh away in the back of her throat. "Have fun." 

"I'll attempt it." he remarked, and with a few steps, he disappeared through the doorway. 

Keira twirled the double-bladed knife in her hand and marveled once more at its workmanship.

********************

A/N: Dang, the tension was killing me there! Good think we had that Keira and Track scene to wash it down, thought to be fair, they seem to maybe sorta kinda have their own kinda tension going... 😉 

Anyway, if you enjoyed that chapter, please don't forget to vote and comment. I really appreciate it. 😁 

Now, any predictions on what's coming in the war realm? 

And any thoughts on Aaron's attitude? 

Finally, our random question. I feel like I do clothing-related questions pretty often now, but I guess the well's running dry. Don't judge me. Anyway: If every article of clothing you're wearing earned you a million dollars instantly, how much of a millionaire would you be? 

(I'd have 3 million myself, not too bad. Just a T-shirt, my home jeans, and obviously underwear. What I'll find funny is if someone down the line answers "I'm just as broke as before". 😝) 

Well, I hope you have an awesome day ahead of you! Please do come back tomorrow morning for the next update! 😄