I watched Kawathra tremble on her knees, Nexxali's gun pressed against her temple.

  The tiny cameras and microphones embedded in Stormy's armor by the Wicked Witch had given me a front-row seat to the conversations between the magpie Datamancer and Stormy. Every nervous talon-click, every probability calculation she'd muttered to herself as she asked my furry pawn question after question, often jumping to absurd conclusions and then being corrected by Piotr.

  Kawathra was a pradavarian Datamancer.

  That was her weakness, really. The magpie didn't just think like a linear human; she over-thought.

  She saw patterns in everything, built probability matrices for the simplest decisions, and got so lost in the data that she missed the obvious, most simple answer. Which made her predictable in her own way. Perhaps, I could use this to my advantage, make myself seem important.

  The afternoon fog had rolled in from the Pacific, adding a pitch of surrealism to the forest road. Thin beams of light pierced through at odd angles, creating halos around everything they touched. One particularly bright shaft sliced the road near the point where the Datamancer was being threatened by the Marshal Commandant.

  I noticed it when I climbed out of the Cherokee. Pure coincidence, but useful for trolling the Datamancer.

  Stepping forward, I positioned myself directly in front of Kawathra. My shadow fell across her face. Up close, I saw her trembling, eyes closed, dark cheeks streaked with tears.

  She was spiraling, was terrified of being unmade, of losing her valuable charts, of suffering from amnesia for weeks after the Omnid magitek reincarnation process did whatever it did to bring pradavarians back from death.

  I reached out and wrapped my fingers around Nexxali's wrist, pulling the gun away from Kawathra's temple.

  "That's enough, Nexy," I said softly. "She's scared enough."

  The Serval's golden eyes flashed with annoyance, her voice carrying the extra-dimensional tone of Charmchain resonance. "Ash, go chill in the car, I'm handling—"

  I felt the command trying to hook into my mind. My surface thoughts demanded obedience to the perfect, lovely feline Marshal, but my actual decision-making remained untouched thanks to Shady's childhood shenanigans.

  "No, you're traumatizing a potential ally," I said.

  The serval backed down at that.

  I turned to Kawathra, extending my hand. The golden light from behind made my arm look like it was glowing.

  "I apologize for our kitten's... enthusiasm. Allow me to properly introduce myself. I'm Ashcroft Julian Clifford, Kobold Administrator of Lady Galateya Frontenachii, the future Baroness of Earth," I stated.

  The emphasis on "Administrator" was deliberate.

  Not servant. Not slave. Administrator!

  I manipulated the forefront of my mind to show no fear nor concern on my face, in case the Datamancer was using her data analysis Skills to evaluate me.

  Front mind: I'm very important. Do not fuck with me, Datamancer. I'm a dangerous man. The most dangerous, most capable man on Earth. One with many friends in high places! Engaged to an Omnid dragon. One that cannot be moved. One that should not be investigated. One who can offer you death or salvation.

  Back mind: Jesus Christ, I hope this works. If it doesn't, I actually might have to ask Nexxali to execute her.

  Kawathra's black-blue eyes went wide. She'd made some kind of an assumption. One that was hopefully helpful to my cause.

  “So, Datamancer Kawthy, what have you figured out?” I asked the magpie when the walls of the Corpse Seeker cut us off from Galateya.

  "You're… the Emperor of Earth," Kawathra confessed, on her knees in front of me. Her dark, hexasuit-wrapped body reflected in the hexagonal floor tiles containing myriads of alien crystalline formations.

  My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to escape my chest entirely.

  Front mind: Yes. I am the Emperor. Bow before my imperial majesty, xenos bird! I am calmness itself. I am pure, absolute might. I am cool and collected, and utterly in control of this situation.

  Back mind: Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck she knows she actually figured it out... how did she. I wanted to seem important, yes, but not THIS important. Damn it. Fine. FINE! I can work with this. Think, Ash, think!

  I kept my expression neutral, channeling every poker face I'd ever attempted during engineering presentations when I had no idea what the professor was asking.

  "The sound modulation concealed your voice resonance," she continued, more tears streaming down her feathered cheeks, "but the speech patterns, the inflection on certain words, the 82.7% correlation in shoulder-to-neck-to-head ratio despite the attempted visual obfuscation..."

  Front mind: Of course I knew you'd figure it out eventually. I am a master strategist! I wanted you to know that I was the Emperor of Earth! Mwa ha ha.

  Back mind: SHOULDER-TO-NECK-TO-HEAD RATIO?! What the fuck?! What other biometric tells did I stupidly reveal? My ear shape? My goddamn walking gait?!

  "I've analyzed a recording of your conversation with Commander Sillicia 1,847 times," Kawathra revealed. "It's you."

  Front mind: Naturally. One must expect such dedication from an enemy intelligence officer!

  Back mind: 1,847 TIMES?! Who watches ANYTHING 1,847 times?! That's not normal! That's obsessive! That's— okay, actually that's exactly what a Datamancer would do, I guess. Shit, what if other Datamancers figured this out too? Should I avoid meeting Datamancers forever from this point? Can any of them figure me out just by staring at me for twenty minutes? This is bad. Very, very bad.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "Does anyone else know?" I asked, proud that my voice came out level instead of cracking from inner panic.

  "No, my Liege!"

  Front mind: Good. See that it stays that way, Datamancer!

  Back mind: Oh thank Christ. Okay. Okay, I can work with this. She knows, but she hasn't told anyone. Yet. Maybe she won't? Maybe I can— what am I even doing? I'm a unemployed electrical engineer... not a...

  I relaxed on the organic couch with what I hoped looked like casual confidence rather than the bone-deep exhaustion I actually felt.

  Front mind: The Emperor regally surveys a cowering xenos from his golden throne.

  Back mind: The couch is too squishy for something made from crystals and kind of warm. How alive is it? I could really use a nap after getting smacked around by Wendigos, vampires, cat girls and magic dragons. Nope, can't show weakness. Act regal. Act all knowing!

  "And what are you going to do with this information, Kawathra?" I asked.

  Her talons clicked frantically. I could practically see the rapid calculations running behind her alien eyes, probability matrices spinning like slot machine reels in her head as charts flashed around us like dying stars.

  "I bow to your authority," she said finally. "Your planetary sovereignty supersedes my fleet assignment. The Frontenachii Princess chose you as her Administrator. The Legate has accepted Knight Galateya's blood bond to you, an unprecedented situation of two highborn Omnids blood and soul tied to one human. By every metric that matters, you ARE the legitimate authority here."

  Front mind: Precisely. I'm glad we understand each other.

  Back mind: I am?! Wait, is she buying this? She's actually buying this?! Ha. A ha ha ha ha. I mean, technically Shady did the whole blood pact thing when we were kids, but that bond no longer exists due to her eating magic brain spiders like an antlered thicc dummy. And Galateya... that was desperation and improvisation and—And now the Datamancer thinks I'm some kind of master planner!

  Kawathra pulled up more incomprehensible holographic displays, black feathers fluttering as she spiraled deeper into her abyss analysis. "Opposing you would be... incredibly suboptimal. You command our Marshal Commandant and orchestrated the discovery of the vampire nest to elevate Division 881's ranking. You're playing multidimensional… chess while the rest of us are learning checkers."

  Front mind: Your assessment is accurate, Datamancer. I am the God Emperor of Mankind after all.

  Back mind: I got lucky! So incredibly lucky! I threw North's family at the alien fleet because I needed to save people from being harvested by vampires and also for the aliens to respect Stormy so that I could learn more of your weaknesses and it WORKED but that doesn't make me a planning genius, that makes me lucky! There's a difference! I've been making this shit up as I go along since DAY ONE of your insane Wendigo leaders dropping the moon chunk on us!

  "That's a lot of clever assumptions," I said, which was the most honest statement I'd managed to produce in the last five minutes.

  "Statistical certainties," she insisted, pulling up more data. "You needed Division 881 to succeed. You desire to protect Knight Galateya from Commander Sillicia. You probably have Princess Aquillianne hidden somewhere and you've scrambled her Astral signature to—"

  She stopped mid-sentence, finally noticing my expression.

  Front mind: You tread on dangerous ground, Datamancer! Be wary of my wrath!

  Back mind: Wait, she thinks I scrambled Shady's signature? I didn't do that! The brain spiders did that! But if she thinks I did it, if she thinks I'm that powerful, maybe I should just... let her think that?

  "I'm… simply very good at pattern recognition," Kawathra let out. "It's... it's what I do. I understand patterns, interpret data presented to me."

  "Yes," I agreed, leaning back and trying to look thoughtful rather than insanely worried about far too clever Datamancers. "Which is why I need to know: are you going to be a problem, or are you going to help us?"

  Front mind: Choose wisely, Datamancer. Your future depends on this moment.

  Back mind: Please say yes, come on. I cannot deal with another problem I'm barely holding together as it is... With Shady brain-scrambled and playing as a wild bear, North as her backpack, Nexxali high on catnip, Galateya whom I'm pretending to be in a relationship with, and I'm just SO TIRED of this crazy alien invasion carousel—

  "Help!" she squeaked immediately. "Definitely help!"

  Front mind: A wise decision.

  Back mind: Oh thank fuck—

  "My calculations show Earth's best probability for optimal outcomes involves your continued authority!" Kawathra bobbed. "As the divinely-ordained Planetary Lord you're… already likely in communication with one or more Legates, discussing terms. Beta-Knight Galateya, as an appreciator of justice, represents a 73% probability of more ethical, collaborative governance. Her engagement bond to you makes sense. You represent..." she paused, running more calculations, "No, you are… a human who can stand as equal to Omnids. Or even… even above them if you are capable of concealing your location from ten thousand planetfall Scruts!"

  Front mind: Your analysis continues to impress, Datamancer.

  Back mind: Divinely-ordained?! DIVINELY-ORDAINED?! I'm not— I didn't— how did we even jump from 'unemployed guy with alien problems' to 'living god-emperor'?! Wait. If she believes I'm that powerful, if she's building this mythology around me in her head, maybe I can... use that? Manipulating aliens left and right, this is my life now. When did I become catch-me-if-you-can protagonist but with alien invaders?

  "Have you encountered others like me then?" I asked.

  "We have," Kawathra bobbed. "Divine tier Archmagi. Immortal cultivators. Lords of vast planetary Empires with whom concessions had to be made by the Legates. You've hidden yourself well from our Scruts! The Admiral made a terrible mistake dropping a moon piece on your planet. It is highly likely that… the Frontenachii will offer me to you as an asset, if you simply ask for my life as payment for the damage to your world and satellite. Why haven't you revealed your vast psychic powers to the fleet command, my Lord?"

  Front mind: Plotting things! Secret things!

  Back mind: PSYCHIC POWERS?! I DON'T HAVE PSYCHIC POWERS! The only reason I can resist Nexxali's voice is because Shady taught me, did something to me to split my mind when I was NINE since she wanted to play poker with me without winning constantly! That's not divine power, that's... childhood trauma repurposed! Or something. An alien girl screwing with my brain with her brain hooks probably had some horrible side effects.

  "I have my reasons," I said aloud, which was technically true even if those reasons were 'I'm making this all up and praying it works.'

  "Reasons?" She tilted her head.

  "I wish to see how far the stupid cryptids can dig themselves a grave on my world."

  Front mind: Watch them squirm. Watch them struggle. Laugh villainously when they fail. All according to MY glorious plan! Soon the dominoes I set will fall in a desired direction!

  Back mind: I called the Frontenachii stupid cryptids to their subordinate's face. Why did I do that? What is wrong with me? The stress is making me reckless. I need to— actually, wait, she's buying it.

  Kawathra gulped audibly, her feathers flattening against her body.

  I watched her rapidly recalculate her entire understanding of the situation. She really thought I was playing some grand, intricate game. That I was some god-king. That I deliberately allowed myself to appear weak and vulnerable while secretly being an all-powerful brain-cultivator or whatever.

  The truth was so, SO much stupider.

  I was just a guy. A tired, bruised, scared, desperately improvising guy who somehow convinced an alien armada that I knew what I was doing.

  But if Kawathra wanted to believe I was the Emperor of Earth, master strategist and hidden god-lord of humanity?

  I'd let her.

  "I offer myself as your intelligence asset," Kawathra declared, interrupting my train of thought. "My data processing capabilities, my understanding of fleet logistics, my ability to obscure inconvenient information—all at your disposal, my Liege!"

  Front mind: Your loyalty is noted and will be rewarded appropriately!

  Back mind: Holy shit. Holy actual shit. I just acquired a Datamancer. An actual, fleet-level intelligence officer just volunteered to commit treason for me. This is either the best or worst thing that's ever happened and I genuinely cannot tell which. Wait, how did she do that?

  "Your blood contract permits such betrayal of the Frontenachii?" I asked and listened to her explanation that she was a clever bird who didn't sign stupid contracts like the other clueless pradavarian teenage girls who got bamboozled by the Frontenachii agents into near-slavery.

  I leaned back, letting the silence stretch.

  Yes...

  Let her stew in it. Let her think I was considering her offer with the weight of imperial judgment rather than frantically calculating whether adding a traumatized alien magpie to my collection of incredibly problematic companions would make things better or worse.