They landed at dusk in the larger town downstream, the helicopter's sudden, roaring descent startling the unprepared villagers into the streets. Many wore expressions of profound alarm, some brandishing farming tools or crudely fashioned weapons, their faces lit by the flickering orange glow of cooking fires. Already, Roy noticed the ominous signs: pockets of hacking, coughing children, listless adults leaning heavily against crumbling walls, their faces pale and drawn. The insidious illness had already begun to fester and spread.
Zehrina hopped out first, her movements fluid and alert, scanning the rapidly gathering crowd for any potential threats. Roy followed, motioning for the Presidroids to fan out with armfuls of medical supplies. Uneasy murmurs rippled through the crowd as they drew closer.
"Who are you?" demanded a wiry, tough-looking woman in patched, travel-stained clothing, her hand instinctively moving to a long knife sheathed at her belt. "Why land that… that flying demon contraption in our fields?!"
Another voice, sharp with suspicion, shouted from the back of the crowd, "They're probably bandits! Or trickster mages, here to curse us further!"
Roy raised both hands in a calming, non-threatening gesture. "We come in peace! We're here to help," he began, but his words were swallowed by a fresh wave of suspicious murmurs. Accusations and frightened, desperate speculation tumbled over each other, the crowd's fear palpable.
Zehrina's eyes flashed, a dangerous glint in their depths. "They're sick, terrified, and they think we're—"
Roy shook his head, stepping forward decisively. "Let me handle this." He subtly toggled his comm. "Serenity, Wills, prepare a… visual aid. Smallest missile in the helicopter's arsenal. Aim it at the far eastern edge of the city, absolutely no casualties. Just a bit of… percussive diplomacy."
A flicker of dismay, quickly suppressed, crossed Zehrina's face, but she remained silent as the crowd quieted, their attention now fixed entirely on Roy's every move. Moments later, a brilliant streak of light shot out from the helicopter's underside, trailing a thin, almost invisible line of white smoke. It detonated in a brilliant, thunderous flash well beyond the town's farmland, sending up a harmless but impressively large column of earth and debris. The blast's reverberation, a deep, resonant boom, swept over the gathered townsfolk, silencing them instantly.
In the stunned, ringing hush that followed, Roy's voice rang out, calm but undeniably commanding, "I am the Thunder Rider. The one who frees slaves and burns the citadels of tyrants. I have come because your water is contaminated, and you, your families, your children, are dying. We bring medicine. We bring survival."
The hush transformed into an awed, disbelieving murmur. Some villagers fell to their knees, clinging to each other in a mixture of fright and dawning reverence. The wiry woman from before, her hand frozen on her knife hilt, stared at Roy, her eyes wide with a potent cocktail of fear and wondering hope.
Roy pressed on, his voice resonating with a sincerity that was impossible to fake. "We bring cures. If you wish to live, if you wish for your children to live, then let us treat you. Let us show you how to cleanse your water and avoid the further spread of this disease."
A wave of hesitant acceptance rippled through the crowd. People stepped forward, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, some reaching out to touch the crates of medicine the Presidroids had swiftly unloaded. Murmurs of "Thunder Rider" and "savior" passed from lip to lip. A feeble old man, his body wracked by a dry, hacking cough, bowed deeply, tears of gratitude streaming down his weathered face.
Zehrina exhaled, a small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief, and stepped in to help Wills and the Presidroids organize the distribution of medicine. The Presidroids, under Wills' enthusiastic and slightly unnerving direction, moved with mechanical efficiency, scanning each resident with a quick, handheld diagnostic device, then administering injections or handing out the necessary pills with brisk, professional calm. Over the next hour, they methodically treated anyone who showed even the slightest symptoms, as well as administering preemptive doses to those who still appeared healthy. Roy, with Zehrina's help, explained in simple, clear terms about the necessity of boiling all drinking water, avoiding the river until it could be properly purified, and promised to send further supplies and assistance in the coming days.
Near the end of their rounds, as the last of the villagers were being treated, Roy's comm unit buzzed. A shaky, intermittent live feed from the drone stationed upriver flickered onto his wrist display: a monstrous, chitinous corpse, easily the size of a small house, lay partially submerged in the river, its grotesque exoskeleton split open, revealing pulpy, decaying innards. Next to it, the drone's camera panned to reveal a lifeless human figure leaning against a tree trunk, broad-shouldered, clad in ragged, travel-worn clothes. Roy's heart sank as he recognized the man: one of the earliest slaves he'd freed from that first Noruma caravan, a quiet, reserved individual who'd vanished from Otherrealm months back, presumably to seek out lost family.
Zehrina glanced over Roy's shoulder, her expression darkening with a grim understanding. "They fought each other," she murmured, her voice low. "The man and the monster. Likely contaminated the entire river with their remains during the struggle."
Roy swallowed, a bitter taste in his mouth. "We can't just leave them there to continue polluting the water. We have to… deal with it." He looked towards the helicopter. "Wills, Zehrina, grab a containment unit or something from the medical crate. We'll handle the clean-up personally."
With the townspeople calmed and the initial medicine distribution underway, Roy, Zehrina, Wills, and a pair of base-model Presidroids took off again, the cargo helicopter lifting swiftly into the darkening sky. The drone guided them to a rocky, secluded bend in the river. The dead monster's fanged maw hung wide open, its lifeless tongue lolling grotesquely in the sluggish current. The man's body lay a few yards away, his cold, empty eyes staring at nothing.
Roy approached slowly, his boots crunching on the gravelly riverbank. He pressed a hesitant palm to the deceased man's chest, a wave of profound sadness washing over him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the gentle rush of the river. He remembered the quiet hope in the man's eyes when he'd first been freed, his talk of finding a new life, of rebuilding. The Presidroids, with Wills supervising, quietly began to set up a portable, high-temperature incineration unit, ensuring the man's plague-ridden corpse wouldn't further taint the water.
Zehrina stood near the monstrous carcass, her expression unreadable. "Ready when you are, Captain," she said softly. Roy nodded, his gaze lingering on the fallen man for a moment longer. As the Presidroids activated the incinerator, Zehrina raised her arms, and with a soft hiss, a brief, intense burst of pure black flame, shot through with flickers of silver, consumed the monster's remains. It crumbled in upon itself, dissolving into fine, sterile ash that scattered harmlessly in the gentle evening wind. With equal care and respect, they attended to the man's remains, sealing them within a large, airtight metal case the Presidroids had brought for sanitary transport and later, proper burial or disposal back at Otherrealm.
Roy paused for a moment of quiet reflection, his head bowed. No matter how many tragedies he witnessed, how many lives were lost or irrevocably altered, it never got any easier. He silently thanked the man for his good intentions, for his courage in facing such a terrifying beast, even if fate had ultimately led to this grim, lonely end. Then Zehrina placed a gentle, comforting hand on his shoulder. "We've done all we can here, Roy."
They returned to the helicopter, dusk rapidly bleeding into the inky blackness of night. By the time they lifted off, a chilly, mournful wind had begun to sweep through the valley, the once-polluted water below glinting coldly in the dying light.
Back on the Nightshatter's main deck, Roy took a deep, cleansing breath of the salty sea air. The base-model Presidroids scurried off to stow the remaining medical supplies and the sealed containment unit, while Zehrina stood silently at the railing, her gaze fixed on the distant, glittering horizon. She looked weary, her usual playful energy subdued, but her posture was resolute.
Eryndra emerged from the ship's interior, her armor gleaming softly in the dim deck lights. She folded her arms, a momentary, almost imperceptible awkwardness passing between her and Zehrina before Roy cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
"We saved two towns from that damn plague today," he said, his voice rough with exhaustion but carrying an undercurrent of grim satisfaction. "And Wills thinks he's close to a permanent cure for the kids already infected. I'd call that a good day's work."
Zehrina nodded, a faint, tired smile touching her lips. "Let's just hope the next wave of victims isn't even bigger."
Eryndra brushed a stray lock of silver hair from her face. "If it is, we'll handle it," she stated, her voice quiet but firm with an unshakeable determination. Whatever unspoken tensions or rivalries had troubled her before, she seemed to have pushed them aside, her focus now solely on the task at hand.
A faint, melodic beep signaled an incoming call from Serenity. Roy tapped his comm, hearing the AI's calm, measured recitation of updated data: new outbreak numbers in the downstream town had completely stalled. The medicine had taken effect quickly. The most vulnerable had been quarantined and were responding well to treatment. It seemed, for now, at least, they had managed to stop the worst from happening.
Roy disconnected the call, closing his eyes, letting a profound wave of bone-deep exhaustion roll over him. As if reading his mind, Eryndra slid closer, her presence a silent, comforting warmth. "You look like you could collapse right here on the deck, Captain."
He smiled faintly, the weariness evident in his eyes. "Maybe. But we made it through, right? We did some good."
Zehrina gazed out to sea, where the first stars were beginning to prick the velvety darkness of the night sky. She spoke with an uncharacteristic, almost wistful softness. "For today, at least… yes, Roy. For today, we did."
No further words were needed. The three of them stood there in a comfortable, companionable silence, listening to the steady, rhythmic churn of the Nightshatter's powerful engines. In the darkness, Roy's comm unit pinged softly with incoming data updates, some new crisis, some fresh horror, might undoubtedly loom.