Drone

3 The Mother.

Niklas pulled himself out of bed early. Looking around Edgar's apartment, he took a moment to remember why he wasn't still at the training pit. The rest of his detachment wouldn't return from the training pit for two days. He had two full free days on his hands, thanks to Edgar. What to do? Such idle time was a rare luxury.

Edgar was already awake and dressed. He sat at the table on which was a neat stack of books, mostly war manuals but also, unsurprisingly, poetry. Sharderin poetry was virtually the only part of their old culture that survived the exodus. Every Sharderin was well-versed in the poetry which had survived the old days.

Something jingled, and Niklas realized Edgar was counting a box bag of small, metallic tokens of various shapes.

"What's that?" Niklas yawned.

"Gold," he said.

"Gold!" Niklas sputtered. "Edgar! That's illegal!" Niklas connected the dots. "That's the gold the Colgans paid that officer for our tech!"

Edgar smiled, slid several tokens back into a purse, and cinched it tight.

"What do you need that for?" Niklas demanded. "We don't need money. The clan gives us everything we need."

"Maybe you. My needs aren't so singular."

Niklas looked around, fearful of any eyes that might be prying. It was foolish. There was nothing but walls to the tiny house.

"I have a gift for you," Edgar said.

Niklas started in surprise. "What is it?"

Edgar tucked the purse away and reached into his pack. He produced a metal trinket, unlike anything Niklas had ever seen. Palm-sized and heavy. The only thing that Niklas recognized about it was the dull slate gray hue of the reaper's steel, a secret metal exclusive to Edgar's order.

"Edgar..." Niklas gasped breathlessly, "Gold is one thing, but I know for sure you shouldn't give...whatever this is...to someone who isn't a reaper."

Edgar shrugged. "Don't get caught with it, and we won't have a problem."

Niklas had to laugh at Edgar's typical disregard for authority. Niklas knew that the priests had disciplined Edgar for disobedience in the past, yet somehow, the reaper proved invaluable to his cathedral. Niklas suspected the reapers leaned on operatives like Edgar to resolve problems that needed to turn a blind eye to regulation. Niklas, by contrast, would feel guilty just knowing he had it. He hated secrets and breaking the rules.

"Flick the switch, but hold it well. It might jump," Edgar said.

Niklas noticed the switch in the center and gave it a nudge. The trinket jerked as a five-inch blade, with an accompanying crossguard, snapped into existence.

He threw the blade to the table and cried in surprise, "Deck! What the pit was that?"

Edgar laughed heartily, "No magic, just mechanical secrets of the architects. This model was actually developed by the Siegers and adapted by the reapers."

"Edgar, I can't keep this." Niklas squirmed a little.

Picking up the blade, Edgar let out a sigh. "Of course you can," he said as he pulled the switch down.

This time Niklas' eyes followed as the blade sucked back into the handle.

"You worry too much," Edgar said as he returned the knife.

Niklas shied away. "The barracks get inspected regularly. Reaper tech is beyond contraband."

"Don't be coy, brother...Take it. Where is your sense of valor?"