CHAPTER 22: THE CHRONOS DEFICIT

  [LOCATION: THE IN-BETWEEN]

  [STATUS: CRITICAL LOGISTICAL FAILURE]

  [RESOURCE: FOOD (0 DAYS REMAINING)]

  The victory of the Aether-Drive was short-lived. You can have all the power in the world, but if your biological assets don't have fuel, the machine stops. I sat in my office, staring at a report that was far more terrifying than the Imperial fleet.

  The rations had spoiled.

  The Phase-Shift had created a temporal micro-climate in the storage wing. The 'In-Between' warped time. Three months of grain and dried meat had aged thirty years in the span of three hours. It was now nothing but dust and rot.

  "Gray, the men are starting to realize," Lilo said, standing in my doorway. He looked older than he had yesterday. The stress of the void was carving lines into his face that hadn't been there when we were in the desert. "They’re hungry. And in this place, hunger isn't just a stomach ache. It’s a physical weakness that lets the void-sickness in faster."

  "I didn't plan for a temporal rot," I said. My voice was a dry snap. "But I have located a surplus. The 'Resolute' was carrying a reinforced 'Vault-Crate' in its lower hold. It’s shielded against mana-fluctuations. The rations inside will still be fresh."

  "Then send a team," Lilo said.

  "I didn't say it was that simple. The 'Vault-Crate' is located in a pocket of 'Dead-Time'. The spatial distortion around that specific hold has accelerated. Five minutes in there is roughly ten years of linear time. If I send a normal man, he’ll be a skeleton before he reaches the handle."

  Lilo went silent. He looked at his hands, then at the black-and-gray uniform he wore—the mark of his debt to me.

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  "You need a Hero," Lilo whispered.

  "I didn't say I needed a Hero. I said I needed someone with a Rank 5 Divine-Constitution. Your body is reinforced by the Sun-God’s blessing. Your cells regenerate faster than a normal human’s. You can survive the ten-year drain. You'll age, but you'll live."

  "Ten years," Lilo repeated. He looked out the window at the violet screaming of the void. "You're asking me to give you a decade of my life for some crates of salted pork."

  "I didn't ask for the pork, Lilo. I asked for the stability of my workforce. If the men don't eat, they mutiny. If they mutiny, the Core fails. If the Core fails, we all die. I’m asking you to make a trade. Ten years of your life for the survival of the four hundred souls on this mountain. Including your own."

  I didn't offer him a handshake. I didn't offer him a "thank you." I stood up and handed him the retrieval manifest.

  "I'll go," Lilo said. His voice was hollow. "But don't you ever tell me again that I'm just an employee, Gray. Employees don't sell their youth to their bosses."

  "I didn't say you were just an employee, Lilo. I said you were an asset. And assets are utilized where they provide the most value."

  I watched him from the observation deck. Lilo stood at the entrance to the Dead-Time pocket. The air inside the hold was shimmering, like a desert heat-mirage, but cold. He took a breath, gripped his sword, and stepped in.

  I didn't look away.

  The change was instantaneous and horrific. On the security feed, Lilo’s movements slowed to a crawl. I saw his golden hair lose its luster. It turned dull, then gray, then a stark, bone-white. His face, once the picture of youthful Imperial vigor, began to collapse. His skin wrinkled, sagging over his cheekbones. His shoulders, once broad and defiant, began to stoop under the weight of an invisible decade.

  He reached the crate. His hands were trembling, the veins standing out like blue cords. He grabbed the handle. I saw his teeth grit—I could almost hear the sound of his joints grinding as he turned around.

  Every step back was a year.

  Step one: He was thirty-five.

  Step two: Forty.

  Step three: Forty-five.

  He reached the threshold and collapsed across the line. The temporal field snapped shut behind him.

  I didn't rush to him. I waited for the medical golems to arrive.

  Lilo lay on the basalt, gasping for air. He looked like his own father. His hair was a thin, white halo around his head. His eyes, once bright with the fire of the sun, were clouded and weary. He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw true hatred in his gaze.

  "I... I got them," he wheezed. His voice was no longer a baritone; it was a thin, papery rasp.

  "I didn't doubt you would," I said. I looked at the crates. "Process the rations. Double the portions for the men tonight. Tell them Lilo provided for them."

  [RATIONS ACQUIRED: 3 MONTHS]

  [ASSET DEPRECIATION: LILO (RANK 5) — AGED 10 YEARS]

  I went back to my office. I didn't feel a pang of guilt. I didn't feel like a monster. I sat at my desk and recorded the transaction. The cost of food was ten years of a hero’s life. It was a steep price, but the Oasis was still operational.

  I picked up my quill. I didn't think about Lilo’s white hair. I thought about the fact that we wouldn't have to worry about the food supply until the next quarter.

  The numbers balanced. That was all that mattered.