As a medium for communication, wyrmsong had the advantages of being absurdly efficient. By increasing the number of nostrils I used to sing, layering my song with thicker and thicker polyphony, I could increase the density of the information I was communicating by orders of magnitude, something I discovered in the process of telling my story to Slick and Lt. Dueright. I'd barely gotten a quarter of the way through when they made it painfully clear that both they and their commander would very much want their commander to hear this.

Jules knocked on the window again. I wove together some more spore writing and brought her up to speed.

"I'm not going anywhere until I have a safe place for my family to stay," I said.

"I think I can help you with that…" Lt. Dueright said.

If he'd still had lips, I'm certain the lieutenant would have been smiling.

I pushed the L85 from behind, moving it down the Fort's internal roads as Dueright led me to one of the underground areas, just past a cluster of abandoned tanks. Much like WeElMed, Fort Marteneiss' garage was underground; the security bunkers were contiguous with it. Dueright opened one of the bunkers up for us. It was leanly furnished, with a dark strip running along the bottom quarter of it white walls, as if they'd been dipped in ink. There were two beds up on the wall, a kitchenette, and a washroom complete with a shower.

"Some of the higher ups went down here a couple days ago," Dueright explained. He lowered his head. "They… didn't make it."

"Mostly, they're just upset we found their bodies so damn tasty," Slick said, leaning in.

Slick used his psychokinesis to vent the bunker of any stray spores, while Lt. Dueright wheeled over a hermetically sealed cabinet. He insisted the food inside it was perfectly safe to eat. Looking over the cabinet with my wyrmsight thickened confirmed the lieutenant's claims: I didn't see so much as a spot of &alon's aura inside it.

The three of us fishbowled force-fields around our heads as Jules and Rayph stepped out of the car.

Then it was Pel's turn to come out, and things took a turn for the worse. The kids tried to help their mother get up, but it was too much for them.

Angel… even now, this part always makes me choke up.

Rayph and Jules opened the driver's-side door to find their mother dazed and confused. She trembled like she was hypothermic, even though a fever was baking her sweat-drenched body from the inside out. The sickly sweet ooze seeping out from her orifices and ulcers nearly covered up the stench of urine and feces coming from beneath her skirt.

She kept asking where I was.

I told the kids to tell her I'd be there soon.

Pel couldn't stand, let alone walk, and Rayph and Jules weren't strong enough to either carry her or walk her into the bunker, so I took up the slack.

My wife was a princess on a cloud as I levitated her into the bunker. She screamed in terror at the sight of me, but she was too weak to do anything about it, other than cough up ooze and blood. I was almost thankful that the Green Death had weakened her so much that she passed out from the exertion, and I hated myself for feeling that way. But it couldn't be helped.

Not everything that happens in life comes with a moral lesson or a positive spin. Some things are just sad and wrong.

The bunker's bathroom still had running water. I bathed her, setting her down in the fetal position on the floor of the shower. I didn't touch her at any point of this, terrified of what might happen if I did.

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She wasn't quite ripe yet.

I used my psychokinesis for everything: slipping off her clothes, turning on the shower; guiding the water around her body, up and down her necrotic skin; gently scrubbing her every nook and cranny. Her body was like a home away from home. Memories earmarked its every curve. I saw all of her faces: all the smiles, all the tears. They were a monument to our marriage, and the life we'd built together, as was she.

Compared to playing my clarinet, it was a piece of cake to employ my powers to wash Pel's clothes and wring them out her clothes, wick away the moisture, and wield the blow-drier. The only downside was that both my wife and her clothes now smelled like military-grade doomsday preppers' soap.

I levitated Pel's unconscious body onto one of the beds and drew the covers over her. I even tucked them in. Then, I slithered out of the bunker, removing the deathly threat of my presence. I rolled the food cabinet in and then pulled away to make room for the kids to enter.

Slick and Lt. Dueright were waiting outside, out of sight, sensitive enough to realize that my family and I deserved at least a modicum of privacy.

Standing in the doorway, Jules and Rayph looked at me with wondering eyes.

"What now?" Jules asked.

I'm going to talk to this Brigadier General of theirs, I spore-wrote. After that, I'll come back here and give you guys an update on where things are headed. If everything goes according to plan, Yuta and Ichigo will come with me to help me find an infected Vyx ship I can link with.

"And after that?" Jules asked.

I sighed, filling my fishbowl forcefield with spores. We'll have to play it by ear, I guess.

Rayph turned around, glancing toward his mother. "What about Mom?" He turned back to face me. There were tears in his fungus-shot eyes. "What about us?" He coughed. "What are we gonna do if—"

"—Genneth?" Yuta said. The Munine noble had appeared beside me.

I knew exactly what he had in mind, and I couldn't have agreed more.

"Count me in, too," Ichigo said, manifesting alongside his lord and mentor.

I infused the spirits' bodies with my psychokinesis, giving them a palpable physical presence, albeit an invisible one. For my kids' sake, I breathed out a stream of spores and pulled them around the forcefields that were making Yuta and Ichigo's bodies "solid". It was like painting them in an ever-shifting coat of green static.

Rayph's mouth O'ed in amazement, especially when he realized one of them had horns and four arms.

I introduced the two samurai to my children.

Jules, Rayph, I wrote, I'd like you to meet Lord Yuta Uramaru and his young retainer, Ichigo.

My kids bowed as politely as their sickened condition allowed.

If you need to talk to them, just say what you have to say. They'll be able to communicate with you by typing on you and your mothers' PortaCons, I wrote. I granted the two Munine spirits the ability to write and speak perfect Trenton right before drawing my word-illustrating spores back into my forcefield helmet. They can go through walls and fly, I explained, and their combat skills are unmatched. They fought in the Third Crusades, you know—not on our side, but… you know what I mean.

I gazed at my ghosts.

I trust them 100%.

"What if we don't see you again?" Jules asked.

Ready to depart, I turned away, but then stopped and looked back. Not even the Hallowed Beast Himself could stop me from finding you again, I wrote. A moment later, I condensed the spore-writing into the three most powerful words in the Trenton language: I love you.

My kids nodded, and then they shut the door, and sealed it behind them.

I locked eyes with Yuta and Ichigo; I had to admit, I was getting pretty handy with my extra eyes.

If you notice anything suspicious, or there's even the slightest hint of danger—

"Don't worry, Dr. Howle," Ichigo said, "I'll make sure you're the first to know." He cracked his knuckles and grinned.

Well, that was one less thing to worry about… I hoped.

Yuta and Ichigo bowed before me before phasing through the wall to begin their run as bodyguards—yojimbo, as the Munine said.

Stay safe, I wrote, while muttering the same in a soft wyrmsong chorale.

And then I slithered out to meet the Brigadier General who dared to stand against the dying day.

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