“Chaos, right! Right, chaos, yes. I can do chaos,” Redana says, like a liar. She might be spontaneous, but her approach to the secrets of the machines tends to be largely straightforward; it is the direction of her path that is usually unexpected, not the steps she takes while traversing it.

Still, the gods have spoken. Or one god has spoken. The really scary one. Ares, fearful and bloody-handed, has approved of the way she thinks. This is not concerning in the slightest.

She takes up the D-Scythe, closes her eyes and breathes, and feels the incredible power flowing through it. She holds the power of unmaking in her hands. One cut, one blow, and two things that were one will come undone.

Without conscious intention, she slips easily into Epistia’s battle stance: daughter of Ares, scythe-wielder. The tethering cable will keep her from doing the spins and flourishes, but when she steps forward and makes one clean, steady blow, it is as if Epistia was guiding her hands through the stroke.

***

[i]”And it’s cheer up, my lads /
Let your hearts never fail /
The bonny ship the Diamond /
Goes a-fishing for the whale...”[/i]

This is the only part of the song that Redana can remember. It is stuck in her head, so it is going to be the only thing she is capable of singing while she works for the foreseeable future. She’ll be cutting and letting the Hermetic follow behind with the omnifoam, and then she’ll break out into the same lines cheerily, absently, as her mind slumbers beneath the simple work.

[i]”And it’s cheer up, my lads /
Let your hearts never fail /
The bonny ship the Diamond—”[/i]

There it is. The sound of the scythe has become something like the clink of wine glasses at a feast. She stops, untethers it, sets it down gingerly, and hops back on a leg and a half. There’s a tense moment as she and Iskarot stare at the ominous device.

“Well, that’s not so—“

And that’s when one of the focusing crystals implodes, and Redana dives for the deck with a shrill scream, bearing Iskarot down with her.

It turns out that twisting so that you cushion the fall of a Hermetic is not, in fact, a Smart Idea[1].

“I’m okay,” comes a faint squeak from underneath the saffron robes as the D-Scythe cools and hisses.

***

“Be careful,” Iskarot buzzes. Sweat trickles down Redana’s forehead; she blinks it away from her eyes. She has her knife out, held flush against her forearm, her muscles coiled and ready to strike. Even her throbbing leg is bearing up underneath her right now; she has little choice. If she falters, if she looks away, if she fails, she is dead. She’ll have time to lie face-down on the floor and wish her leg could be quietly and conveniently removed later.

This is one of the greatest challenges of her ability that she has ever faced. Even the Olympics were only preparation for this moment. The world narrows until it’s just the three of them.

Then the giant crab swings the D-Scythe straight into a load-bearing wall.

***

[1]: It is, in fact, much like attempting to cradle an engine block as it falls so that you can cushion it with your soft, fragile body.