(This is the story text from the corresponding Radio Cataclysm podcast episode. If you prefer audio, you can subscribe here. Read and listen early on Patreon.)

Corrigan's body fit neatly inside the ring of stone, with space to spare on either end. Captain Irving and Lieutenant Teymore dressed him in the remnants of his armor. Private Murkle smothered him with an incendiary gel that would help the armor's nanocarbon material catch. “The formal rites are mainly for other Caustics,” said Murkle. “Otherwise, we let the fire speak for itself. But if anybody would like to say any words, this would be the time.”

“I've never been good at that sort of thing,” said Sheryl. “But I'll say this: he was a passionate soldier. He committed fully to his actions.”

“He tried to get us a fresh meal,” said Corporal Bunting. “Can't fault him for that.

“I never liked the bastard,” said Solomon, “and I think he deserved the judgment he got. But he didn't have to go like that. Poison. He deserved a better death, if nothing else.”

A long moment passed, and nobody else said anything. Bunting and Murkle each lit a long stick of wood from a bundle in Murkle's horse. They touched the flames to Corrigan's chest. The gel ignited immediately, blue at the base with tall orange tongues of flame. After a minute the fire settled down, and the armor started to burn on its own.

“He'll need a Tender,” said Murkle. “To watch the fire. It's part ritual, but mainly it's to be sure the fire doesn't burn too low or spread beyond the ring. Traditionally, it's a family member or commanding officer, but I'd be happy to take the role tonight.”

“How long will it take?” said Bob.

“A few hours,” said Murkle. “And then somebody should disperse the ashes.”

“I'll do it,” said Sheryl.

“Have you tended before?” Murkle asked.

“Informally, many times,” said Sheryl. “Formally, only twice. Years ago.”

Murkle nodded. “As he's not Caustic, and did not request the rites, there are only two things you really need.” Two containers with spouts sat near, but not too near, the fire ring. “This one is an accelerant,” he said, tapping the red canister. “To use if the fire burns too low. This one,” he tapped the blue container, “is a suppressant. This is all we have left, so use it wisely.”

Sheryl nodded. “Thank you for doing this.”

Solomon gave Corrigan's body one last look, shook her head, and headed back to the bunker.

“Do you want me to stay?” Irving asked Sheryl. “Or should I go?”

“It's up to you,” said Sheryl. “Stay if you like, but I won't make you.” When she saw the look on Irving's face, she added, “But I wouldn't mind the company.” Irving nodded politely and came to stand by Sheryl.

Corporal Bunting gave Bob a friendly pat on the arm. “What do you say we play a few rounds of knaves and thieves before we turn in?”

“I hesitate,” said Bob. “I feel my recruits may need my guidance tonight.”

“It may be good to give them a little space,” said Sheryl. “Trust has to come from both sides.”

“What, are you saying I should bunk with the Tephra tonight?”

Sheryl shrugged. “There are only four bunks to a room.”

“We've got room for you, buddy,” said Bunting.

Bob mulled it over for a moment while he watched the pyre. “Perhaps they could stand a night on their own. It's not as if they can run off with their yokes on. And Burts has his implant. I just worry so.”

“They'll be all right,” said Sheryl.

“You can't do everything for 'em,” said Bunting. “Like Teymore says, they'll trust you more if you're not watching them like a hawk all the time. And anyway, you owe me a game of knaves and thieves. You've got to give me a chance to win my money back.”

“Are you all right?” John asked. “You look a little peaked. And you keep putting your hand up like you're gonna barf. If you're gonna blow chunks, would you mind doing it outside? That's a smell that lingers.”

“Believe me, I wish I could vomit,” said Zeck. “I ate something that doesn't agree with me.”

“Everything seemed all right to me,” said Burts. “Of course, I was shoveling it in like I've never had a meal. I'm not looking forward to another day inside a horse. If only I could dig out this implant without killing myself in the process.” He rubbed his chest with his fingertips as if feeling for the device. “But I'm no surgeon.”

“Perhaps there's a way we could disable it,” said Zeck. “Shut it down remotely so it can't zap you anymore. What if we had an EMP grenade?”

“Sure, that would do the trick,” said Steven. “If we had one. But it would hurt like fuck. And the Colonel would be alerted the second it happened. He'd just stick Burts with another implant, or worse. Not to mention his wrath at whoever set off the EMP, and I'm not too keen on getting on the Colonel's bad side. It's bad enough being on his good side.”

“True enough,” said John. “We were all there in the cafe. Destroyer has no qualms about executing a skilled soldier from one of the Ten Houses. Imagine what he'd do to one of us. He only keeps us around because we're useful to him. As soon as we're more trouble than we're worth... Well, you were there.”

“As soon as we're more trouble when we're worth,” Zeck echoed. “Or when he's gotten from us what he needs.” Unconsciously, he placed a hand on his belly.

“You don't know the half of it,” said Steven. “Not one of us are gonna make it out of this alive if we stay with the Colonel. I'm through playing the part of the helpful hacker.”

“Then why are you working so hard on that bloodhound?” said Zeck. “Not that I blame you. If he wants it done by morning, I damn well hope you can do it.”

“I'm not working on the bloodhound,” said Steven. “I've got my own little project. I've been noodling around with the idea for days, going back and forth about whether I should even try it. But what I saw tonight convinced me. Like you said, we're all expendable.” He recounted the Colonel's conversation with General Sluice, about the search for the Cormorant and the General's orders to the Colonel.

John chuckled. “The Cormorant,” he said. “I always suspected it would turn up sooner or later.”

“You've heard of it?” said Zeck.

“I was around when they trotted it out. I've seen the damn thing.”

“I've only heard rumors of it,” said Burts. “Legends. You're telling me it's real?”

“Oh, there's no doubt of that,” said John. “Of course, it only flew the one mission, then vanished without a trace. It was the lead ship of the Retort bombers. I was up North at the time, not around these parts, or else I might not be here today. But before they started the bombing, they flew the Cormorant on a little tour of the continent. Flew it low and slow over military bases, Pyroclast encampments, Resistance camps. They wanted us to take potshots at it, and we did. We hit it with anti-aircraft guns, missiles, acoustic laser cannons. When it flew over our camp, we hit it with every elemental attack we could muster. Didn't so much as scratch it. It didn't even fight back. Didn't drop any bombs or fire so much as a single shot. It just hung there in the air, as if we were nothing to it. This big egg-shaped thing that no one could crack.

“Fellas, that ship was not Churlian made. It was not made on this Earth. Legend has it, the Churls found it in some ancient dimension they stumbled into by accident. Everything there was broken and decayed, cold, dark, a dying universe. Except for that ship. It was sitting in the middle of all the rot and wreckage, pristine as the day it was made. The Churls named it the Cormorant, but its true name is lost. Gone to ash in a dead dimension.”

“We can't let the Churls get a ship like that,” said Zeck. “Not again.”

“I'll second that,” said Burts. “If it really exists, and it's still there, it could be just what the Resistance needs to tip the scales. We could really do some good with that kind of a thing. If the Churls get it first, it's good as over. They'll get to play the heroes against the Arterians, and they get a ship that nobody can defend against.”

“Not nobody,” said John. “I mean, something brought it down in the first place. Trapped it, if not destroyed it. There's always a way. And it's unwise to pin all your hopes on one thing. But I do agree, we've got to get that ship before they do.”

“If we're going to escape, we ought to do it soon,” said Zeck. “We might not get a better chance once we're out of the forest. I'm afraid our time here is limited by the digestive powers of my symbiotic tummy virus. Also, I may have something that will give us a chance at getting away.” He told them all about his meeting with the Colonel and the conversation with Sheryl afterwards.

“He made you eat powdered meat gobbet?” said Burts.

“Well, he didn't force me, per se, but he definitely tricked me into it with his delicious pudding. If I'd known what was in it beforehand, I'd definitely have hesitated before eating any.”

“I think I'm gonna be ill,” said Steven.

“How do you think I feel?” said Zeck.

“It has to be tonight, then,” said Burts. “The clock is ticking right now, in your belly. And it sounds like Sheryl's all but telling us to scram.”

“Agreed,” said Zeck. “It's more than just tacit permission to escape. She's risking herself to help us. We'd be spitting in her face if we didn't go tonight.”

“So what's the plan, gentlemen?” said John. “You know I'm behind you no matter what. But I'm not a strategist. If we can slip away, I think I can find us a shortcut out of the forest, horses or not. But I can't do anything about these yokes.”

“I've never been good at coming up with plans, either,” said Burts. “Meat Rom always took care of that stuff.”

“Well, I've got a few-” Steven started to say, but Burts held up his hand in an urgent shushing motion. A moment later, there was a knock on the door. Steven shoved several items into the pockets of his cargo pants with the speed of a prestidigitator. Without waiting for an answer, Bob opened the door and stepped inside. He smelled like campfire and chemicals.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “My recruits. My wards. Steven, I'd like to apologize for my insensitive comments earlier. While the things I said were correct in fact, I spoke callously.” He looked down at the ordered chaos of components surrounding Steven. “Still hard at work on the Colonel's project. You've already come so far from the callow boy I arrested for smoking barely a fortnight ago. Certainly, you still have a surliness that we'll have to work on, but your dedication to the team is inspiring. That settles my mind. Gentlemen, I'll be bunking with the Tephra tonight. We'll be right next door, should you need anything. But I think I can trust the four of you on your own for the night.”

“Does that mean we can sleep without our yokes for once?” Zeck asked.

Bob chuckled. “Oh, Strauss. Never lose that sense of humor. Now, is there anything any of you need before I settle in for the night?”

“Actually, I could use a few things,” said Steven. “There's a packhorse full of junk we collected from the ruins. It would save a lot of time if I didn't have to keep running back and forth to get stuff from it. Would it be all right if I brought it down here?”

“It might be a bit cramped,” said Bob. “What say your bunk mates?”

“I don't mind,” said Zeck.

“I'll be asleep soon, anyway,” said John.

“I've been inside a packhorse all day,” said Burts. “Nothing feels cramped compared to that.”

Bob looked guilty at that. “Yes, well. Fawth, if the Colonel does that again, you have my word I'll speak on your behalf. Super-soldier or no, it's inhumane to force somebody to ride like that.”

“Unless you're a squire,” said Zeck.

“That's entirely different,” said Bob. “Chad's rouncey is a one person tank. It's designed to accommodate a passenger.” He waved his hands dismissively. “I'll not pursue another argument, not when we're doing so well. Steven, I'll bring the horse down myself, so you don't have to stop your work.”

“Thanks, Captain,” said Steven.

Bob smiled. “That's the first time you've called me that.”

The horse itself knocked at their door. Bob wasn't with it, but there was a handwritten note clamped in its mouth. Steven unfolded it.

“What does it say?” asked Zeck.

“'Cheers and encouragement from your faithful leader, Captain Bob Jaut, C.I.G. P.S. Inside, you'll find a little treat from yours truly's personal stash. Remember to share, gentlemen!'” Steven opened the horse's side hatch. Nestled among the salvaged junk was a small foil-wrapped package with a ribbon around it tied in a bow. Inside were four individually wrapped toffees.

“That's downright sweet of him,” said Zeck.

“I almost feel bad for the arsehole,” said Steven. He handed out the candies.

“Same here,” said Zeck. “Almost seems a shame to leave him behind.”

“Never forget,” said Burts, “Bob is loyal to the Empire, which means he's loyal to the Colonel, through and through. It's the way they raise them in Churlia, especially in the military. He might shed a tear for us, but he'd stand by the Colonel's side while he cut our heads off and not raise a finger.”

“We can't stand around chatting all night,” said Steven around his toffee. “John, you said you might have a shortcut out of these woods?”

“I'm not gonna like it, but that's my problem, not yours,” said John. “Remember the water pipe that doused Corporal Bunting? It's connected to a huge underground system of pipes and tunnels, probably made from the infrastructure of the old sewers under this town. Made by the forest as a way to cleanse the dark water that flows in from the river. There's a confluence here, right under our feet. Big tunnels, wide enough for all of us if we walk the horses. I think there's a way in not far from the bunker. No, I know there is. I could feel it plain as day. Some of the water stays in the forest, to provide for the life herein, but some of it must flow out the other side. The horses are waterproof, so that's not a problem.”

“I can't swim,” said Steven.

“You won't need to,” said John. “We'll either walk out, or the water will carry us. All you'll have to do is hold onto a horse and float along. Floating's easy.”

“I certainly hope so,” said Steven.

“Don't forget,” said Burts, “we need the horse with the butterfly on its flank. That's where they stashed my map. And Zeck's satchel. We can't leave those behind.”

“Tell me about it,” said Zeck. “My wallet is in there, with my library card. And my acoustic laser.”

“We'll make sure to get that one, then,” said Steven. “Butterfly on the flank. Here's my thinking, though. We don't have a way to shut down Burts's implant. And it'll activate as soon as he steps outside the bunker. That's a problem, if he's on foot. That's why I asked Bob to bring this horse down here. Sorry, Burts, I know you must be sick of curling up inside these things, but it might be the only way. You'll be in hell from that thing in your chest, but I'm betting if we get far enough away, it'll lose its connection to the Colonel and shut down to conserve power while it tries to reconnect.”

“A slim hope, but I'll take it,” said Burts.

“The only real problem is our yokes. They work mainly by restricting certain actions, like punching a comrade in the face.” He took a swing at Zeck. Zeck flinched away, but he didn't need to; Steven's arm stopped midway through the punch, arrested by the power of the yoke. “Anything not specifically programmed requires a supervisor to override. But they also have a specific range. If we get too far away, or if they lose their connection to Bob or the Colonel, an alert will go out and we'll be frozen in place automatically. Kind of like what I'm hoping will happen with Burts, only the yokes will have us like statues. Constant low-voltage paralytic signal through our nerves. I'm still working on a way to shut them down.”

“Would it help if we had a few EMP devices?” said Zeck.

Steven snorted out a laugh. “Yeah,” he said, “that'd be brilliant.”

Zeck reached into his sleeve and pulled out what looked like a handful of grey marbles, each with a small pin sticking out. “I tried to mention it earlier, but then Bob showed up. I think I have enough.”

“I thought you were joking,” said Steven. “Where did you get those?”

“I palmed them in the armory. The Colonel was so obsessed with that gauntlet, I had ample opportunity. Looks like baggy sleeves are good for something, after all. These are what I think they are, right?”

“They're micro EMP grenades,” said Steven. “These'll be brilliant. One for each of the yokes, and one for Burts. It'll short out the implant. You'll be stuck with the hardware in your chest, but it'll be ruined. Normally I'd hesitate, because that would be enough to kill a normal man. It still might. What do you think, Burts?”

“I'll take the risk,” said Burts. “But won't it wreck the nanobots in my blood?”

“Nah, they must have Faraday shells. Otherwise, all the shocks the Colonel's been giving you would have fried them days ago.”

“Then I should recover just fine, as long as I find something to eat.” He stuffed his toffee into his pocket. “Better than nothing,” he said. “There's just one problem. I don't think I can activate an EMP while the implant is active. I can't control my movements while it's shocking me.”

“It's all right, we'll get it for you,” said John.

“You can't,” said Burts. “I'm not going with you.”

“What do you mean?” said Zeck. “I thought we agreed, we're all in this together. We need your fighting skills. The Colonel will just use you. You'll end up back in a lab, your memory wiped, programmed to kill.”

“I'm not staying, either,” said Burts. “I'm going to turn myself over to the Arterians.”

“That's crazy talk,” said John.

“Why would you do a thing like that?” said Zeck.

“You said it yourself,” said Burts. “Sure, the Churls could wipe my memory again. But the engineers at Woulf Labs already did. I don't remember the person I used to be. All I get is flashes of blurry faces. Sometimes I'll remember the sound of someone's voice, but I can't hear what they're saying. Or I'll catch a whiff of something and I know I've smelled it before, but I don't know how or where.

“All I have, all I remember, is everything that happened after they activated me at the lab. If Meat Rom hadn't been there with me, I never would have made it out alive. I would have burned that place to the ground, with myself and everybody else inside. Or worse. I was bad back then. Feral. He helped me. And I helped him.

“Now he's all alone in Plumwine's clutches. Who knows what they're doing to him? I have to go after him. All we've got is each other. No offense to you all. I know you've got my back when the chips are down. And I'll do what I can for you, too. But right now, the thing I need most is to get to Meat Rom.”

“I get it,” said Steven.

“What are you planning to do once you get there?” said Zeck.

“I've never been good at making plans. Meat Rom will know what to do. I know he will. We might not make it back, but maybe we can take down Plumwine. Maybe not, but at least we'll be in it together, whatever happens. Listen, Zeck. Before all this started, before we got dragged into the Hinterlands, you were hired by the Pyroclasts, same as Meat and me. Did they tell you why?”

“No. I only know that I was to deliver a package from you to them, as quickly and secretly as possible. I took the job, no questions asked. I've done some sketchy courier jobs before, and I was rather keen on making some cash after my, er, disagreement with Scrimshander, in case I needed to pay him off. Or flee the country. Do you think the Pyroclasts will still pay? Payment aside, will they still want the package with everything that's happened recently? I mean, the world's falling down around us. Even more than usual.”

“They'll want it now, more than ever,” said Burts. “You didn't ask questions, but Meat and I did. The 'package' is the core component of a powerful device built by the Saurosapiens. I don't know how much you know about them.”

“As much as anybody else, I suppose. They lived tens of millions of years ago, when the dinosaurs were still around. Depending on who you ask, they either created magic or stole it from the gods. And then somehow vanished with nary a trace.”

John nodded in agreement. “Thaumatic energy is weird. It's forged from subatomic particles, built and bent like a blacksmith forges steel. The Pyroclasts tend to believe that the Saurosapiens figured out the secrets of magic, and it angered the gods, who banished them from our world. Some people believe that they stole the secrets of magic from the gods, and that's why they banished them from our world. Or they worked with the gods until they caught the attention of some old enemy of theirs from across the universe, and that's who banished them from our world. Or, in an act of self preservation, they banished themselves from our world. The only thing most everyone agrees on is that the banishing happened. Precisely how and when their artifacts started leaking back into our dimension is anybody's guess.”

Burts nodded. “They're probably the ones that built the Cormorant. Or maybe their enemies did. According to the Pyroclasts, who learned it from an elder god who still remembers what it was like back then, The Saurosapiens were a peaceful race. Never fought amongst themselves. Not because they were immune to war or anything like that, but because they had this device. Whatever it was, it made war obsolete. Made it impossible. Literally impossible.

“Look, maybe it's all nonsense. I know it sounds ridiculous. I'm dumb, okay, but I'm not that dumb. I know it's a long shot. But it's a shot I've got to take. If you can, Zeck, once you get out of here, will you find the package and deliver it to the Pyroclasts? You can have my share of the payment. Meat's, too. I'm sure he'd agree. We were never in it for the money, anyway.”

Zeck sighed. “Well, I wouldn't want to tank my star rating in the Hush 'n' Dash app. But where is the thing? You were supposed to have it ready for me back in Rintburg.”

“The map will lead you. It was moved recently, but it's somewhere in Pennsylvania, last we checked. Remember, the map is also the key. It unlocks the container it's sealed in. Meat figures whoever had it last couldn't get it open, so they got rid of it. There's this big pit up that way that's always on fire-”

“Centralia,” said Zeck.

“You know about it?”

“I have friends up that way,” said Zeck. “Should be a snap.”

Burts clapped him on the arm. “You don't know what this means to me. I don't really know what this thing is, the Pyroclasts were vague about that, and I don't know if it'll really do what they say it will. But it means a lot to me that you'll give it a shot.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “And I know you're not just in it for the money, but I won't tell anyone.”

“At least wait until I get paid,” said Zeck.

“All right,” said John. “We've got a horse for Burts, and plenty more outside to pick from. We've got EMP grenades for the yokes. I can get us out of the forest through the pipes. What else have we got?”

“This is what I've been working on,” said Steven. He held up a small black box with a red button. “I call it a spider scrambler. Not the best name, but I'm fucking tired. Bob and the Colonel think I'm fixing the bloodhound, and they don't really know what I need to do it, so they let me have access to all the scrap that's stashed in the packhorses. That includes a bunch of broken weapons that were lying around after the battle in the Hinterlands. Spare horses, spare weapons, spare parts, you know?

“I had a hunch about the way the spider guns work, so I took a few of them apart. When the Sparassa or the attercops shoot those spider wads at you, the weavers are controlled by a signal from the spider guns, or the Colonel's fancy suit, or his horse's undercarriage or whatever. The signal tells the weavers to wrap whatever they land on in a thick case of webs. It's just a simple instruction, and they follow it until they drop dead. It was a piece of cake to rig something that would tell all the weavers in all their ammo sacs to hatch and swarm all at once.”

“Wait,” said Zeck, “so when you press that button, the weavers in the Sparassa's guns and the Colonel's suit will all hatch and trap them where they are?”

“Yeah.”

“That's amazing.”

“What about Sheryl?” said Burts.

“She's made her choice,” said Zeck. “And it's not one I envy. But we're on our own in this.”

“So we've got a way out, where Ouroboros can't follow us, right?” said Steven.

“None of them should be able to follow,” said John.

“And we've got a way to stop the Sparassa and hopefully the Colonel if they catch us trying to escape. Oh, and Bob. He's always got his spider gun holstered. That just leaves the Tephra. And Chad. But if everything goes according to plan, we shouldn't even see them on our way out.”

“What time is it?” said John.

“Ten thirty,” said Zeck. “I guess all we can do now is wait.”