I do not stabilize Five’s shamanic respiration until just after dawn. Two commanded so much of my attention upon its arrival that I overlooked how much damage Five sustained. I engrave and infuse new sigil clusters into the stump of its arm throughout the morning. Four repairs Five’s shoulder and a few auxiliary systems before retiring to work on itself.

Fred returns with Three during the afternoon. Three drops a sodden burlap sack half the size of its torso onto the shore and walks directly into its alcove. Shortly thereafter, metal clashes against the other side of the earthen wall behind me. It happens again and again, losing both tempo and intensity, before it ends with a light tap.

I pause from my work and focus on the entrance of the grotto. Fred stands in the stream, staring into Three’s alcove until it notices my attention. Fred lifts the sack and crouches as it enters Two’s alcove.

“How do you fare, Five?”

Five barely turns its head toward Fred. Its once vibrant violet lights have faded to a mist-like glow. I answer for it.

“Five is stable. It should resume drawing energy soon. I need to infuse more gels into its clusters before their intake even approaches normal operational levels.”

“At least the worst has passed,” Fred mutters. It sets the sack between the three of us. All of our gazes settle onto the misshapen container.

I turn to the open maintenance kit and insert the empty vial into its slot, mouth upwards, without its cork. Only three vials, two silver and one black, remain full and corked. Dulled scalpels and broken needles lay haphazardly on the ground around the kit. I place the small-gauge hook I had been using in a vacant, velvet-lined slot and focus on the sack.

“Those are the weapons?”

Fred nods. “We used them to disfigure and dismember the bodies before we tossed the remains into Mages’ Bay. They should be well-rotted before anyone discovers them.” Fred reaches into the sack. “Three and I also retrieved… more from the scene.”

Fred pulls out two short-hafted mauls with heads twice as big as even our clenched fists. Each weapon’s yellowish white head reflects the grotto’s living light. Faint green waves ripple slowly, independently, beneath the surface of the hammers’ heads. Fred sets the weapons to one side and pulls out the top half of a broken glaive; its blade ripples with the same effect as the maul heads, but more brightly. Fred sets this aside, too. It takes out another object much more gingerly.

It is the missing portion of Five’s arm.

Jet-black and smooth around its etchings, the limb seems to be in pristine condition. Even the end at which it was severed shows a straight, uniform slice. The fingers are all stretched away from the palm, as if gathering, or even discharging, arcane energy. Not a single violet spark courses over its surface.

Five’s sensors fixate on the hand and pulse steadily, rapidly.

I ask Fred, “Did you retrieve more?”

Fred lays the dismembered limb by its side. “Three and I encountered no interference. We found each and all of our classmates’ damaged portions. One day, perhaps with a miracle, we may repair and restore both of you to full functionality,” it adds with a nod at Five.

Fred flares its sensors. Perhaps this reprieve from hours of intense focus has rendered me poetic, but the action reminds me of twinkling stars in a clear night sky. It pleases me.

I turn to Five and attempt to mimic Fred with a flash of my own. My surroundings suddenly, briefly, brighten and sharpen their contrast before returning to normal.

Five tilts its head slightly toward me, then Fred. Its own sensors pulse clearly, as bright as their typical levels, before they fade once again.

Fred twinkles its eyes again. “Should we check on Four?”

Fred and I find it resting, and mostly repaired from last night’s events, in its alcove. After a brief exchange, we all decide to monitor Five together to ensure that it continues to respire properly. I openly consider inviting Three to stand vigil with us, but Fred dismisses the idea. It says Three requires “more time to process.”

After night comes, we all realize that Five’s condition has improved only marginally. We speculate on methods of accelerating our classmate’s recovery. The discussions last for nearly an hour before each of us pauses to notice Three in our peripheries.

“Perhaps,” Three says with stark clarity, “we could further disassemble Two.”

The rest of us remain silent.

“We are finite machines. You said as much this morning, Fred. We are ordered and constructed life, without generations of complexities tangling our plans. We have fixed each other and ourselves enough to recognize dimmed perception, or even a minor draw deficiency. But we have only contended with such relatively superficial issues until last night. If we want to succeed in this crisis and prepare for the future, we will need to be more invasive in our studies. We suffer enough. We should take this opportunity to prevent more. Two’s…death must yield some value.”

We all lock focus with each other, one after another. Five lowers its head. Fred faces Three.

“I thought you cared nothing for philosophizing,” Fred says with a hint of amusement.

“Your philosophies have no bearing on practicality, Six!”

Fred straightens its posture. Its shoulders were hunched forward, but now its entire body is rigid. Even its hands are half-clenched into fists.

Three places its hands over its face. “Apologies, Fred. My own bearings may not be as solid as I believe.”

Fred relaxes. “Even SECAs have our blind spots.”

Our study of Two begins when Four delicately picks up Two’s dismembered arm. We compare its sigil clusters to Five’s for another hour. We find each and all major systems nearly identical, as expected. After we glean as much information from the surface as we can, I select the largest scalpel from the maintenance kit.

I remove the coated plating from Two’s forearm with short, deliberate scrapes. This is my first attempt at such a procedure; I dare not risk damaging any clusters, especially since I do not recognize their functions. Each grinding cut overpowers the trickling water in the otherwise silent grotto.

I pull the cerasteel plate away from the boulderwood.

A dense collection of clusters, smaller in form than any I can recall, cover the boulderwood surface where the plate had been affixed. Those clusters are mirrored by clusters etched into the underside of the forearm plate.

Four determines that these dense clusters draw energy directly from the arcane interplane. The repeating clusters I carved into Five’s partial arm feature the largest elements of these covered sigils, but the lack of sophistication explains Five’s low respiration rate. I resolve to rectify my ignorance, and we continue our exploration.