Manifold [An Interstellar Sci-Fi Progression Story with LitRPG Elements]

Filippov was still sitting on the ground, his features etched with the kind of surprise a man had when certain death was averted.

"You sniff out structural weaknesses," Betelgeuse said. It was a statement, rather than a question.

"... Among other things," Filippov returned, raising his head toward Betelgeuse. All he could see was an opaque and featureless visor. To him, Betelgeuse Sakar remained a faceless and inscrutable creature.

"We need to get the APC fixed," Betelgeuse said, indicating toward the vehicle, its front wheels perched on the slope of the concrete mound.

Distant rumbles. The tunnel shook with the tremors, and the gray light streaming in from the hole above them flickered and darkened.

"I will do it," Filippov said, raising himself on his thin legs and stumbling toward the engine.

Curious at the skills of this Bronze grade, Betelgeuse followed him toward the APC, looking over his shoulder as he fiddled around with the tubing and rapped on the engine-chassis with his bony fingers.

Thete came up beside Betelgeuse and elbowed him in his side. A charcoal pupil and an unsettlingly empty eye-socket stared back from behind the glass lenses of her gas mask.

Thete had removed her prosthetic eye.

'Maybe she has something against dying with a prosthesis on,' Betelgeuse thought.

"What's he doing?" Thete asked morosely, referring to Filippov, her eyes rimmed with anxiety.

"He has a related blessing," Betelgeuse said, folding his arms across his bulky vest. "He's the one that saved us, by the way."

"How do you mean?" Thete asked.

"He pointed out the correct part of the tunnel to blast," Betelgeuse replied, pointing his chin back toward the ruined tunnel-way.

Thete settled into a watchful silence.

By now the others had gathered around to witness Filippov's variously-pitched grunts.

"One of the pistons," Filippov mumbled to himself. He turned to Betelgeuse, the one he recognized as the leader of the whole cabal of deserters, and said: "No way to get at the problem unless we take the thing apart. Not ideal under the circumstances. I can make do with someone strong enough to deform the engine-chassis in the exact way I instruct."

Betelgeuse pointed at the towering Entuban, but Filippov shook his head. "Fingers too thick. Someone with thin fingers."

"Thete, then," Betelgeuse said, slapping Thete's back loudly. He would volunteer, but he wanted to have a clear view of how Filippov dealt with the issue, if only that he could have a clearer sense of what Filippov's Incunabulum-blessing was.

"Really getting full of yerself, B.T," Thete groused, but she stepped forward anyway. Douglas sniggered.

"Okay. Tell me where," Thete said, coming up beside Filippov.

Filippov rapped on the engine-chassis and placed the tip of his finger at a point that was approximately a third from its bottom.

"Press here. Hard. Yes, depress it there," Filippov mumbled, guiding Thete's finger. "Use more strength—kak, that's too much, too kakking much—"

***

It took some time for Thete and Filippov to get the engine running again, and then even more time for them to troubleshoot the engine's anxiety-inducing 'clanking' sound, which Von took to mean that the APC's life-cycle was coming to an end.

As they worked on this, Misha brought Edith out of the troop compartment and leaned her thin body against the concrete mound. Betelgeuse could see that the skin of her forearms were bruised badly where the heavy jerry cans had tumbled into her.

Mustering the other deserters, Betelgeuse tidied the inside of the APC and ensured a more even weight distribution of the jerry cans. The nine cans Betelgeuse used to collapse the tunnel barely made a dent on the total amount Entuban managed to steal from the Barracks' fuel-hold, though it did allow them to eke out a little more space in the troop compartment.

This done, Betelgeuse instructed Edith to be carried back into the troop compartment and for the others to don their exosuits (save for the exosuit helmets, which tended to hinder clear communication). Then, he went around to the side to check on the progress of Thete and Filippov.

By that time, the engine-chassis looked a bit like a crushed soda can, and Betelgeuse was skeptical as to whether the APC would even be functional.

But functional it was, and before the hour was up they were trundling down the dark and forbidding remnants of the Earthborer-made tunnels. Filippov had requested to substitute Thete as v-com, so that Thete now sat with the rest of Betelgeuse' band in the APC's troop compartment.

Now squeezed between Misha and Douglas, Betelgeuse was at least satisfied that the cargo had been rearranged enough to make the troop compartment feel less like a coffin.

Voke sat to Misha's other side, and both of them were muttering some interminable mantra or prayer in hushed tones.

'Voke has found himself a convert,' Betelgeuse thought, observing the two of them closely.

Misha looked in much worse shape than before—whether because of battle-stress or otherwise—and Betelgeuse supposed that she'd managed to find some solace in Voke's stubbornly religious perspective.

Their voices filled the small and cramped space. Betelgeuse didn't find this unpleasant, so he left them to it. The alternative, after all, was listening to his own unruly thoughts.

None of the others saw fit to interrupt them, not even the anti-religious Douglas.

Eventually, Betelgeuse found himself able to interpret their low mutter. It was a requiem for the dead, repeated over and over again. One name, in particular, kept recurring…

"...eternal rest grant unto the Asaghars, O Lord, and let your eternal light shine upon them… may they rest in peace… eternal rest grant unto the Asaghars, O Lord, and let your eternal light shine upon them… may they rest in peace…"

***

The praying petered out.

Every 15 minutes or so, the APC would halt so that Filippov could rap his knuckles upon the ground of whatever area they happened to be in. When Betelgeuse questioned him about it, he explained vaguely that this was what was needed for his Incunabulum-blessing to work.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Of course, Filippov didn't go into the details. He didn't trust them enough yet.

Betelgeuse surmised that Filippov's blessing worked a little like echolocation. It would certainly explain why he was able to discern structural weaknesses with so much precision.

In any case, Filippov's contributions had suitably proven his value to Betelgeuse.

At the same time, Betelgeuse couldn't shake the urge to claim Filippov's Incunabulum for himself. Wasn't that the logical course? The rational escalation in his pursuit of power?

The thought was seductive. It roiled his emotions. Betelgeuse remembered again, not for the first time, what his father had taught him.

Be careful you do not indoctrinate yourself.

The mind is a machine for rationalization. Point it in a direction and it will generate enough reasons to make that direction—any direction—seem reasonable.

Betelgeuse' musings were cut short by Von.

"We're in!" Von called into the troop compartment, his voice muffled by the wall of jerry cans.

The others hefted their carbines. Beady eyes, glinting in the dimness.

Betelgeuse projected his transceiver-feed onto his visor.

One hour and twelve minutes.

That was how long it took Filippov to navigate them from Earthborer-tunnel to Underground tunnelway to Nook ingress, inclusive of stops for Filippov to orient himself.

"It isn't looking good here, Sakar," Von called again. "The walls are all shot to hell! Kak, I can see outside—"

"How far to the garage?" Betelgeuse returned, interrupting Von. "I've been trying to call Tenzhian, but it's not getting through the jammers."

"We have to pass the—they're there! Right ahead!" Von yelled.

The APC whined and juddered. The hull-door started to open, even before the APC had completely halted.

Betelgeuse sprang out, his boots crunching onto the rubble-strewn floor. The surroundings shone with a crimson blaze.

The red star Corydon blazed halfway between the zenith of the Desertian noon and the jagged peaks of the Amate Range. An entire section of wall had been blasted to smithereens, and for the first time in centuries, the Nook saw natural light.

Parts of bodies littered the ground. Naked, coal-skinned torsos lay half-pulped amongst the rubble, the blood and gore all sanded down to coagulated gunk.

The entire space was buffeted by a powerful sandstorm. Something was churning up the Desertian soil outside and causing it to blow in violent gusts into the Nook.

Betelgeuse stumbled out to the side of the APC. He could just make out several figures up ahead. Their faces were obscured by the sand, but Betelgeuse would recognize the mutated and massy figure of Kanogg anywhere.

Brrzzt… brrzzt…

Betelgeuse let the call connect.

"Sakar!" Tenzhian yelled over the transceiver. Noise and static. One of the masked figures up ahead was waving.

"Where are the holocraft?" Betelgeuse shot back, stumbling forward through the powerful winds. He glanced out the opening that had been gashed into the side of the Nook. Hard and glinting surfaces seemed to roil and twist within the heart of the sandstorm, like apparitions dredged up from dreams, half-seen and half-remembered.

"I-is that you? Sakar? They're parked just behind!" Tenzhian returned, stammering slightly as Betelgeuse came by his side, noting immediately the rank-insignia of a PDF Lieutenant Colonel sewn into the shoulder of his MDES. Betelgeuse nodded his head, and Tenzhian decided not to ask more about the MDES, given the circumstances.

The storm momentarily lightened, to reveal the Lotuszhink headquarter's half-collapsed facade.

Before that red-painted building were five—no, more than ten holocraft idling on the ground. A contingent of men and women—Kanogg's people—were rushing stores into the open hull doors of the holocraft.

Betelgeuse turned to Kanogg and tried to get her attention. She must have replied, but they couldn't hear each other through all the chaos.

Brrzzt… brrzt…

Betelgeuse let Kanogg's call connect.

"We have the fuel, Kanogg," Betelgeuse said, gesturing back at the APC.

"—Get it beside the holocraft," Kanogg said, making her way quickly towards the other end of the row of holocraft. "Hurry up, Beetlejuice, we have to start moving ASAP."

Betelgeuse sprinted back down to the front of the APC and waved his arms to catch Von's attention. Then he motioned towards the closest of the holocraft.

Von nodded through the windshield, and maneuvered the APC close to the chuntering holocraft. The harried members of the Lotuszhink—waif-thin serving girls and muscular White grade bouncers both—immediately took over, pushing aside the deserters and transferring the jerry cans over to the holocraft with speedy efficiency. Kanogg herself seemed to take quite a few of the cans, hanging them on the long arms jutting out of her hunched back.

Betelgeuse oversaw the movement of stores for several minutes, when a loud crash reverberated through surroundings and caused the ground to tremble violently.

"Brace!" Tenzhian roared through the transceiver, as a great boulder broke off from the ceiling and smashed straight down into the middle of the row of holocraft, destroying two.

The vehicles erupted into bright gouts of orange flame that were quickly snuffed out by the Desertian winds. The gash in the wall widened, and more of the Nook became exposed to the Desert air.

The Lotuszhink scattered.

It was impossible to tell what exactly was happening anymore.

Drumbeat blasts of immense warmachines thundered in the distance. Curtains of plasma fire were raining down to his right from somewhere above him, only to be swallowed up by churning gulfs of rustred sand.

And from out of the storm were revealed great beasts of metal—Chimera Earthborers—passing across the shattered walls and boring into the ground only hundreds of meters away from the APC.

The waves of sand had reached all the way into the Nook, and were now beating savagely into Betelgeuse' visor. He would have been blinded if not for the protection his MDES helmet afforded.

At that moment, he heard Kanogg's staticky voice transmit through the transceiver.

"First holocraft's leaving. I'm gone, Beetlejuice," she said flatly. "Things are getting too hot."

"Kanogg!" Betelgeuse said, whipping around to observe, through the swirling currents of sand, Kanogg's lopsided form hobbling into the farthest holocraft, her extra arms hung with a multitude of jerry cans. "You are leaving your people? What about the other stores?"

"Their survival is in Ahman's hands," she said, her voice a cold monotone. "If you reach Jegorich, you know where to find me."

And then she cut the call.

Betelgeuse stared mutely as the hull doors of Kanogg's holocraft swung close. Its engines began to flame with jets the color of plasma.

"Sakar, Kanogg's leaving!" Tenzhian's voice came through the transceiver.

"I can fucking see that, Tenzhian! Get into the holocraft—the closest one, let's go, let's go!" Betelgeuse said, gesticulating wildly to Tenzhian and the others.

As he did so, Kanogg's holocraft sped off at full speed, blasting out diagonally through the gash in Saltilla's wall, westward bound.

The remaining Lotuszhink were in disarray, attempting to squeeze into the remaining holocraft and fighting wretchedly amongst themselves for places. The holocraft further away were gaining altitude even before their hull-doors had fully closed, with several of the Lotuszhink serving-girls clinging desperately to whatever corner of it they could grip onto.

A bolt of plasma slammed into the wall beside Betelgeuse, vaporizing half of the Lotuszhink headquarters and turning it into a mess of melted concrete. One of the hovering holocraft lost control, slamming sideways into the other idling vehicles and fulminating in raw and savage flames.

Only one of the holocraft was still left functional—the holocraft closest to the APC, the one that had already been filled to the brim with jerry cans. Some of the larger Lotuszhink bouncers were attempting to force their way onto it.

With a powerful burst of intentionality, Betelgeuse grabbed hold of their minds.

"Tenzhian, the closest one!" Betelgeuse commanded, turning the Lotuszhink bouncers against their comrades. Furious fighting broke out, as the bulky creatures roared and tore each other to bloody pieces.

"I heard you the first time!" Tenzhian shot back.

Tenzhian was already there, springing up into the hull doors with Aisya and Venna following close behind. Von was running across the waves of sand and navigating skillfully through the desperate welters of human flesh, moving with a speed that only a Hollow grade could muster.

"It's too tight, Sakar, they've filled up the space with the fuel! It can't take any more!" Tenzhian called through the transceiver, his voice already beginning to break up.

Ah. The holocraft have much less carrying-capacity than the APC.

Betelgeuse whipped around, gesticulating wildly for the others to go back, go back to the APC. For some reason, Belekov was beside him, a gas max fitted over his face, and he was pointing to himself and gesturing weirdly with his hands.

"I can't hear what the fuck you're saying Belekov, get into the APC!" Betelgeuse roared, running back down towards the APC and, as he passed the stumbling Filippov, hefting the Bronze grade over his shoulder.

With Filippov, navigating the Underground won't be an issue. I seem to recall that Saltilla is connected to the Pit—if there's any way to escape, it lies there!

Betelgeuse threw open the v-com seat and stuffed Filippov in, before boarding the APC through the hull door.

He came to the front aperture, expecting to see Thete in the driver's seat but finding Belekov there instead.

"Belekov!?" Betelgeuse raised his eyebrow. Turning back into the troop compartment, he saw Thete beside him, with Edith, Entuban, Misha, Douglas and Voke all shouting for Belekov to get a kakking move-on. An unfamiliar face—one of the Lotuszhink's serving girls—had clawed her way on board.

"Back down that way!" Filippov rasped, righting himself in the v-com seat and pointing a bony finger behind his shoulder.