Theirs Not to Reason Why 4: Hardship Read Free

will be hard-pressed to convince them without another massive squandering of energy.
)
    (
Remember also that plucking our strings for a summoning costs energy as well, and stock up before you call again. You don’t want to drain yourself. Starvation in a Feyori can be deadly if you don’t conserve your reserves carefully,
) Belini cautioned her. (
At least we could come back to rescue you, this time. Do also take into account that we may be busy with our own concerns since we now have some serious realigning to do following your little shake-up. You’re lucky I’m inclined to think this’ll be fun instead of a stellar-sized headache.
) Sucking one last time on the power cables, she swirled and lifted into the sky.
    Kier did the same, dipping into the electrical current before following her. (
Take care, half-breed. As you fleshies put it, straddling the fence between two worlds may give you a foot in each world, but it also gives you a hell of a wedgie if you’re not careful.
)
    Caught off guard by his quip, Ia chuckled. She watched for as long as she could detect movement in the sky as he left, following Belini up to where they could feast on the local solar winds for a bit more energy, then sighed. Alone in the late-evening drizzle, she flipped open the lid of her command unit.
    The buttons of the interior had no symbols on them, in order to prevent outsiders from accessing their functions; instead, every soldier in the Terran Space Force had to memorize which rounded square did what. Punching in the contact codes for her second-in-command’s unit, Ia started walking toward the town.
    It took him twenty seconds to answer. When he did, Meyun Harper’s voice was both startled and relieved. And sleepy-sounding.
“—Captain? Ia, is that you? I, uh . . . time, time . . . You’re almost half a day late!”
    “And a good evening to you, too,”
Ia replied, smiling.
“Turns out I didn’t have a knack for mastering the trick of interstellar flight without a ship. I had to get a lift from some friends. Any chance you could send me some matter-based transport? All I have at the moment are my clothes, ship boots, and arm unit.”
    She heard a fumbling sound, followed by a loud clatter and a crude epithet.
“—Sorry, dropped the arm unit. Uh . . . ground car, we can do. I think. The Army hasn’t been entirely cooperative about our presence here, mostly because of the higher-ups. Captain Roghetti has been fairly good about it. But it’ll take time. Unless you can come up with something better I can commandeer?”
    “I am aware of the difficulties of our situation, Commander,”
Ia admitted.
“Give me a moment to check the timestreams.”
    Aside from the pattering of the rain and the crunching of her boots as she walked along the gravel-paved access road leading away from the substation, there was nothing but her voice and his to break the quiet of the night. Off in the far distance, small flashes of orange and reddish light lit up pockets of the horizon, a reminder that this colony world was busy battling a ruthless, hungry enemy. But that was dozens of kilometers away. Turning most of her attention inward, down and around, she flipped her attention onto the timeplains.
    Telepathy wasn’t her strongest psychic gift. Precognition was. The local timestreams were just that: a visualization of rivulets and creeks crossing a vast, grassy prairie. Each stream represented a life, and wherever they touched and crossed lay a nexus of interactions rich with possibilities and rife with probabilities.
    Dabin—or at least the local corner of this world—was a particularly muddy world, both literally and temporally. There were many things the enemy could do to block them from leaving, and many things they could do to counteract their foe. But there were other enemies, too: arrogance, fear, and apathy among them. Those were doing their own work, clouding the waters, fogging the probabilities. Such factors weakened the