[Several hours before the attack]

  "We need to extract," Betelgeuse said, watching Gehen's squat buildings streak past to either side of them. The morning had yet to completely break, and now, the time where dusk melted away softly into dawn, was the most deserted time of day. "And we need time to plan."

  Meng Bi who was sitting on the front-facing couch of the Dust-Trekker, raised his helmeted head, its smooth black surface shining like the pupil of a monster's eye. He watched Betelgeuse closely. The only other person in the troop compartment with Meng Bi and Betelgeuse was a small, emaciated woman sporting a Gehennite tan, which Meng Bi had personally picked out of the human 'cargo' that they had 'liberated' from the Ujung facility.

  Curiously, and though her clothes were torn and soiled in places, the woman was wearing what appeared to be a relatively expensive-looking body-suit. Her slender arms were hugged around her knees, which were pressed up against her chest, and her face was pressed deeply into her thighs. Other than a few quiet sobs, she was silent. Meng Bi had yet to reveal his reason for bringing her into the troop compartment.

  Filippov was up front in the driver's cabin with the Dust-Trekker's driver, Alliset, while the rest of the women—both Queen She's honor-guard and the surviving 'cargo'—were riding the truck trailing behind the Dust-Trekker. Betelgeuse had assigned Private Fuller, the only Private that had survived their foray, as the driver for that truck.

  "... Time is of the essence," Meng Bi said. "You and your friends have spent enough time brooding already, haven't you?"

  Betelgeuse passed his gaze briefly over the Gehennite woman, silently calculating the consequences of her eavesdropping. She was still curled up into herself, and Betelgeuse supposed Meng Bi had his reasons for bringing her into the vehicle. He turned to regard Meng Bi, seeing his own face reflected dully upon that mask's sleek surface.

  The reflection of infinity. There is no self.

  How does he know of 'friends'? Has he been watching me?

  "So you know something," Betelgeuse said flatly, glancing surreptitiously at the butt-shaped space 'scooped' out of the cushions opposite him. "If that's the case, where would you have us go?"

  He already knew that Meng Bi had a preternatural power to sense things, although exactly what he sensed remained a mystery. In any case, Betelgeuse supposed Meng Bi had an idea of where to go and what to do.

  Meng Bi did say that they were partners… for now at least. Betelgeuse would follow his guidance, so long as it took him closer to his ultimate goal of finding transport back to Earth.

  "Here is the place to be," Meng Bi said, his tone betraying a hint of mirth, as though he knew with absolute certainty what was going to occur.

  "I still need my men," Betelgeuse shot back. "And now that Queen She's out of the picture, at least for now, we have an opportunity to turn her group to our cause."

  Using the compulsion, Betelgeuse meant. Meng Bi leaned back.

  "That's fine," Meng Bi said. "But we have to be here, in Gehen. Trust me when I say there are important things to do here, Mr. Betelgeuse."

  Trust me. The favorite phrase of the untrustworthy.

  "... I'd like you to expand on that," Betelgeuse said, eyes twitching. "You should start with how you found me."

  Meng Bi waved his gloved hand as if dismissing Betelgeuse and inclined his head to the side in the direction of the Gehennite woman, the sleeve of his blue robe fluttering lazily. Betelgeuse pressed his lips together. Maybe Meng Bi didn't want to say anything because she was here. Maybe Meng Bi was just using her presence as an excuse not to say anything.

  "What things are important to do here, Mr. Meng Bi? Please be more specific," Betelgeuse said, glancing out the window again. By his estimate it would take maybe an hour or more before they reached Gehen's border-towers. Too much time, in his opinion.

  "Why, acquiring resources for the journey ahead, of course," Meng Bi said. "You seem like you've done pretty well here, with your truck, but we need more, much more. As on Earth, so on Desert."

  "I have more. Six trucks including that one. What do you have to offer?" Betelgeuse pressed. Meng Bi's power was undeniable, but prodding him was all part of the game.

  Very few relationships could be built on implied contributions, and those that did tended to break down under the transactional paradigm. This was the gist of his father's teachings. Betelgeuse had to corner Meng Bi into revealing exactly what it was the partnership was based on.

  "A base in Consus and an actual plan to get there," Meng Bi chortled, deflecting Betelgeuse' clumsy attempt at cornering him.

  You're still green around the ears, pardner. Try again in twenty years, was what Meng Bi appeared to be saying. Patronizing as hell, but Betelgeuse couldn't deny the truth of it. He was inexperienced.

  But that didn't mean Betelgeuse would roll over and let Meng Bi walk all over him. The partnership existed for a reason. It meant that Betelgeuse had some leverage.

  "... You want resources. Then it goes without saying that you'll help me consolidate my power," Betelgeuse said, leaning forward and pressing his fingers together between his knees. "The one you saw with me originally, she heads a bandit group that plies the Craggy Delta to the north. I originally had an arrangement with her, you see, but given the circumstances I consider that arrangement terminated. You will aid me in assimilating them."

  Meng Bi folded his arms and considered Betelgeuse' words.

  "How many?" he said finally.

  "Maybe more than a hundred people," Betelgeuse said. "They have vehicles and other stores."

  Given their wretched condition, supporting that many people will be a burden, but that's simply a problem of allocating them the right work.

  "... Good enough," Meng Bi said.

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  "Then we'll leave Gehen temporarily."

  "Only the very best transport for my dear partner," Meng Bi said, regaining his feet and repositioning himself next to Betelgeuse, his hand placed upon Betelgeuse' shoulder. "I don't suppose you have exact coordinates?"

  Betelgeuse pulled over his gas mask and stared at Meng Bi.

  "Well, I suppose not," Meng Bi laughed.

  "Filippov, continue down toward the border-towers. You're in command here," Betelgeuse said, throwing his voice the front of the Dust-Trekker. "The comms might be jammed around the border, but just keep a look out for my messages, if any."

  "Roger that, B.T.," Filippov's muffled voice responded. "We'll forage once we get to the border, see if we can find rations or medical supplies for the cargo… the women," he corrected himself.

  "Naturally," Betelgeuse nodded.

  Betelgeuse could feel reality wobble around him as Meng Bi's grip tightened around his clavicle. A moment later, the environment around him was sucked away into the void.

  ***

  The next moment, they were atop one of the border-towers, a tall, slope-roofed dolmen that loomed over the eastern edge of Gehen like an old and petrified mushroom. Embrasures had been carved into its sides, but the cracked and weathered facade made it clear that it hadn't been used in decades.

  Betelgeuse scanned the surroundings, noting that the next border-towers were several kilometers away to either side of him, and that they were similarly unmanned and dilapidated.

  Behind him was the edge of Gehen's Eastern District—blocks upon blocks of dented quonset structures reflecting Corydon's morning glare, the streets between them making orange moats which ant-like creatures scrounged and died in by the dozen. Stories played out as if behind a screen—the lives of fictional characters snuffed out from reasons that would forever stay hidden. Be that as it may, Betelgeuse couldn't keep himself from becoming moved.

  Man's mind is moved more by ideological proximity than spatial proximity.

  "There's disturbance in the distance," Meng Bi said, cutting through the silence and redirecting Betelgeuse' attention eastward.

  Clouds of dust and smoke were framed up against the low-lying hills which Queen She had originally chosen for her encampment. Disturbance, indeed. Betelgeuse estimated they were more than 15 kilometers away from whatever the hell was happening around there.

  "We have to get closer," Betelgeuse said.

  With a flicker of intentionality, the surroundings were once more plunged into darkness. When reality reasserted itself, Betelguese found himself atop one of the low-lying hills.

  He stumbled, forcing down the vertigo.

  The further we Jump, the more serious the disorientation.

  To Betelgeuse' left was the small oval-shaped enclosure where a group of tentages and sloppily erected prefabs had been set up. Save for several women scuttling to-and-fro across the area, it appeared devoid of activity.

  To his right, several kilometers away and getting further every second, was a convoy of vehicles half-obscured by dust. The vehicles had made a turn and were now moving almost parallel to Gehen's border far in the distance. At its head were the five trucks Betelgeuse had left with the encampment, as well as a blocky APC.

  "They're being chased," Betelgeuse said, indicating the blooming clouds of dust. He then turned round to point directly at the transparent tent perched atop an adjacent hill. A thong-clad man was dozing off within, his immaculately chiseled body draped insouciantly over his canvas chair. He didn't seem too bothered by the OLED lamp blazing right above his head.

  "The man in the tent, he's the Queen's right-hand-man, Rafayel. We get him, we take control of the encampment. Easy."

  "That guy?," Meng Bi whistled, his tone betraying a note of surprize. Betelgeuse didn't blame him—Rafayel's state of undress seemed downright comical. "Fucking zesty that's what it is."

  "Hey, I don't make the dress code around here," Betelgeuse snarked. "Queen She Who Castrates has a very particular set-up."

  Scoffing to himself, Meng Bi placed his hand on Betelgeuse' shoulder. "That name ought to attract a jail sentence."

  White light.

  Betelgeuse squinted at the sudden glare, finding that he was already within the tent. Rafayel had shot to his feet with a muffled scream, blinking blearily.

  "... What! YOU!?" was all that the thong-clad man could manage.

  Betelgeuse didn't even bother to take out his combat knife. He submerged the man's form in his intentionality, immediately zeroing in on the White grade Incunabulum secreted away in a pouch hanging off the side of the canvas chair. "Come on now, isn't this just too goddamn lazy? Sending your guys out to chase my guys and then falling asleep here?"

  Rafayel struggled valiantly against Betelgeuse' compulsion, but found himself unable to even open his mouth.

  Meng Bi merely folded his arms across his chest, watching curiously.

  As was his practice, Betelgeuse began to twist Rafayel's intentionalities up and into itself, bending it to his will and, whenever he encountered entrenched resistances borne of the stuff of ideology, cut them ruthlessly down.

  After several seconds of this, Meng Bi interrupted.

  "Powerful, but unsophisticated," he counselled.

  Betelgeuse halted, feeling Rafayel's mind squirm within his grasp.

  "What do you mean?" he asked, feeling immediately that something was off.

  "You lack finesse, Mr. Betelgeuse. The way you approach the compulsion is as if you were wielding a weapon. You treat it like a duel: slashing, stabbing, exploiting weaknesses and then crushing your opponent," Meng Bi said, his voice taking on a sagely timber.

  "I don't see a problem with that," Betelgeuse returned. "Compulsion is about subjugating or destroying minds."

  The reaction was immediate and violent.

  "Too hard-headed!" Meng Bi snapped, his powerful intentionality suddenly filling the space.

  Betelgeuse recoiled at the sudden pressure. It was everything he could do to keep hold of both himself and Rafayel, but hold he did.

  Meng Bi walked slowly to the side of the tent and glanced out the transparent side of the tent to see that a small group of disheveled women—and several flustered-looking men dressed in much the same ridiculous way as Rafayel—begin to congregate in the enclosure below them.

  "You have affinity with the compulsion, yes, but your hard-headedness affects your potential. Tell me, Mr. Betelgeuse," Meng Bi said, turning his featureless visor towards Betelgeuse.

  "Do you feel powerful?"

  Betelgeuse could feel his mind beginning to give under the strain, but he held on, pushing back against Meng Bi's clumping intentionalities. But the harder he pushed, the more impervious Meng Bi's vise-like grip seemed.

  He was being crushed.

  Meng Bi himself didn't seem particularly concerned. By now, Betelgeuse had to abandon his own grasp on Rafayel's mind, but the man simply stood there, catatonic.

  How dare he? the domineering thought raged. So what if he's a Gold? Turn everything against him, make him your slave. This is disrespect! You cannot let this pass unchallenged?

  Flash of anger. Betelgeuse gathered all his strength, shoring up his defenses, readying himself for a single push. He would usurp Meng Bi's mind, or die trying.

  Danger. Don't do it, the insidious thought occurred. Don't listen to that fool over there. You will die by your own anger.

  How so? Betelgeuse inquired after himself.

  You are blinded, the insidious thought continued. He is insidious, undermining what can be undermined. Like recognizes like.

  Struck by the sense that something was very wrong, Betelgeuse let the anger fade away. With that came a weakening of his defenses; and yet, paradoxically, the pressure lessened.

  And the feeling of danger lessened with it.

  Betelgeuse was struck by the intuitive realization that Meng Bi was using his own intentionality against himself—the greater the force of compulsion he utilized, the greater the strain he put on himself. If he kept going, he would compel himself straight into mind-death.

  Meng Bi's intentionality clumps. It sticks to my emotions and make it difficult to sense exactly what it is I am up against, making it easy for him to turn me against myself.

  "Ha! You can learn after all. I was beginning to worry," Meng Bi snorted, clasping his hands behind his back and stepping in front of Betelgeuse. "Let's see you deal with this."

  Before Betelgeuse had the chance to react, the urge to let himself just fall apart suddenly afflicted him. He had relaxed too much, and Meng Bi's clumping intentionality suddenly expanded into massy, cloudy intangibilities. All of his thoughts were inflated, and Betelgeuse felt sated.

  Contented.

  There was no need to do anything anymore. Who cared about Earth? Who cared about Chrysilla? The rest of them could do whatever the hell they wanted.