The Rift: King and Country

Act 3: Signal Received

"It's just common sense," Sam said irritadedly, stepping through the cabin door and tossing his sweater onto the hand-carved wooden chair by the fireplace, "Use the stuff that will be easiest and keep us safest. That asshat's just mad I thought of the idea first."

"I don't understand how that would relate to the argument, Samuel," Elara replied as she closed the door and rested her sword beside it. Her armor bore the unmistakeable signs of combat, with chunks of advanced materials welded to the scarred and pockmarked steel. She had shed most of the suit in favor of just a chestplate and greaves, wearing a Chaalis-made military uniform they had scrounged from one of their many skirmishes in lieu of the ancient armor's heavy leather underlayer. She reached up to her shoulders and loosened her chestplate, then lifted it over her head and set it on the hastily-assembled dining table, looking at the shoddy wooden work and snorting unhappily. She had intended to sit down and make a proper replacement, but they'd all been so busy lately she hadn't had a chance.

Sam flopped onto his woven bedframe and laced his fingers together behind his head. "It doesn't, that's why he's an asshat. Graphene's a way better idea than trinium for the fence. A lot more conductive, and we wouldn't need nearly as much material."

"If that's what you say. I wouldn't know."

"Wouldn't know about what?" Xen asked, climbing down the ladder from the cabin's cramped attic.

Elara shrugged. "Conductive, I suppose?"

The wolf smiled in amusement, dusting off his rolled-up red flannel sleeves and resting his elbows on the table. "Conductivity, that's the word you're looking for. So, King, you're still considering the fence project?"

"I guess." Sam got up and opened a wooden trunk by the table and removed a paper-wrapped hunk of meat. He closed the lid and rubbed his thumb distractedly on the crystal set into a carved slot in the top. He had learned that certain minerals could hold a Quenjic charge and, after a bit of experimenting, pried an emerald from Ruby's assault rifle to use as a makeshift refrigerator. They had to recharge it every few days, but that was a small price to pay for food that lasted. He unwrapped the cold deer-like meat and began pumping Quenja through it to heat it up as he continued talking. "At the very least, having something defensible like that would keep reavers and the Swarm out of our hair for a while."

"Too bad it wouldn't do the same for Jaela's men," Xen replied, stabbing one of his claws into a chunk of the half-warmed meat and popping it into his mouth. "Her raiding teams need to get off our backs."

"Yeah, don't we all wish it was that simple. Still, there is always her fourth team member we could go searching for. Never found where they went off to."

Xen didn't reply to that at first, just kept chewing.

At that moment, the cabin door opened and Ruby stepped inside, flanked by two Garn men in SWAT officer-like body armor produced by Xen's molecular constructor, long-barreled skeletonized rifles slung over their shoulders and an insignia like an inverted-chevron on the breast of their combat vests. Brenner and Thorin, the team knew; they were scheduled for guard duty that day. Ruby gave a half nod to Sam and Elara, then gestured to Xen. "Hey Xen, Lindsey said she found something you need to check out. You got a spec?"

Xen pushed off the counter and walked briskly towards the door, pulling Sam with him. "Absolutely. What kind of thing are we talking her?"

"No idea. Guess we'll just have to find out."

Elara got a happy look on her face and rushed after them, grabbing her gear and Sam's customized pistol/holster on her way out the door. Outside lay the quaint little technically-unnamed village, known by the more poetic citizens as "Bastion;" a busy collection of a score or so cabins, a larger meeting house, a clear area in the center with the well and watchtower, and finally the "command center." Through the Ahroks' carpentry skills, hard work, and liberal usage of both Quenja and Xen's molecular constructor, the buildings had come together quite nicely, even looking better in Sam's opinion than the cabins he used to see in historical reenactments with the Pilgrims and such. Of course, the lack of plumbing was an issue for what seemed like everyone except Elara and this one feudal Japan-looking Garn, but they were all making due with Quenja. Funnily enough, the thought of practical day-to-day uses for magic, such as literally teleporting feces, had never occurred to Sam when he daydreamed through his Junior-year English class.