In the windy heat of a Sempervian summer, a passing dust devil’s electrical charge raised fine hairs on Six’s neck and arms. He shuddered, cursing.

Pietas came out of nowhere, right beside him.

Six flinched. “Geez, Ultra! Make some noise, will you?”

“Silence is an advantage of walking barefoot.” Pietas nudged aside chunks of wood. His boots had rotted off his body in captivity.

“You need a bell around your neck.”

“A bell?” The immortal king narrowed eyes the color of turquoise chips. That look hit colder than the dust devil’s charge. Seven Terran feet of him—lean, wrecked, and still tougher than most armies. “Never mind. Probably some human thing I don’t need to know about and wouldn’t care about if I did.”

Six rolled his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I got tired of yelling at lazy people back at basecamp, so I came out here. Thought I’d see what you were doing.”

“Oh, yeah?” With one hand, Six steadied the trunk of a young pine and used the ax like a carving knife. With each short slice, another limb dropped. “More like they got tired of you interfering.”

Pietas slid his hands into the pockets of his ragged and blood-stained uniform. “You know, if you held that blade at a higher angle, you could cut faster. Here.” He reached for the ax. “I’ll show you.”

In response, Six raised one eyebrow.

Pietas pointed to the sapling. “But if you change the angle...” He made a chopping motion.

With Pietas’s shoulders as bad as they were, could he lift an ax? Let alone swing one. But, like himself, the king had been a grunt, and still liked to get his hands dirty.

“Pi, how many of these downed trees you see around here do you suppose I cut down?”

His friend turned around. “At most, an eighth.”

“An eighth? Hell, more like a fourth. The others knock ‘em down and I strip ‘em. Plus I down at least one or two for their three or four. My abuela didn’t raise no slacker.”

“Apologies to you and your grandmother.” The man made a gallant gesture, then picked up the stripped sapling and tossed it on a pile. “I didn’t realize you’d be so sensitive about your disability.”

Six stiffened. “What disability?”

“You’re not fully Ultra.” Pietas heaved a few more saplings. “It’s not like you can keep up with us.”

Six hefted the ax. “You want a chopping contest with me? You, with your bad shoulders against a puny human?”

“But you’re not human anymore, are you? Your treatment made you more like us. You’re not as strong as we are and you don’t have our stamina, but, I admit, you do try.”

Even after months fighting it, the anti-emo chip the Ghost Corps had stuck in his brain flicked Six like a thump against the head. The spike hit—punishment for thinking wrong. Supposedly, the chip eliminated fear and inhibition. Made you fight like an Ultra.

All it gave Six was a headache.

And Pietas wanted him to stay this way? Fat chance.

“Hold up.” Six dropped the ax. “Let me tell you about stamina. All we ghosts heard before our transformations was how enhanced we’d be. Keener hearing. Sharper eyesight. Faster healing. Broken bones with no signs of ever being broken. One guy even bragged about a cracked molar that healed up overnight. Other ghosts claimed they’d gotten that and more.”

“You mean, things we Ultras take for granted.”

“You got it, smartass. But what did I get? Stamina.” Six spread his hands. “That’s it. Stamina. Work harder. Figures. Story of my life.”

“Six, I didn’t—”

“Don’t interrupt.” He took two big steps and got right in Pietas’s face. “I got nothing. Zip, zero, nada. Goose egg.” He stuck his tongue against a broken tooth in the back of his mouth, relic of a chicken dinner he’d wolfed down too fast. So much for awesome healing. “No telepathy. No super eyesight. None of your delusional gifts.”

“Illusional. Delusional means—”

“I know what delusion means, Ultra. My point is, I’m not weak, and I’m not less than you. So don’t give me any BS about disability. You got that?”

“Oh, yes. You made it rather clear. You think you’re as good as an Ultra.”

“I don’t think I am. I am.”

“If you insist.” Pietas picked up two more saplings and tossed them onto the pile. “You have an ability we don’t. Trapped inside that cryopod, dying repeatedly on the voyage here, I wished for it.”

Where was Pi going with this? “Which is...?”

“The number one thing I wish you would let me prevent.” Pietas brushed off his hands. “To stay dead.”

“Hey.” Six tapped his chest. “I get how hard it was to say that.” He stooped and picked up a few discarded twigs, then held the collection before him. “Mira. Keep a bundle tight—it won’t break.” He bent it. “But if you break one and put it back, it weakens the whole. No one wants to be that broken stick. I get that.” He tossed them aside. “But I can never be a stick in your bundle. I’m a dead stick. Dead pine weakens a bundle of fresh. You’ve got to let me die when it’s my time.”

“If I have the power to save you, then it’s not your time. I promise I will let you when it is your time. But I’ll be the one who decides when that is.”

Jaw tight, Six squared his shoulders. “You can’t resurrect me against my will.”

“Well, that’s not exactly true, is it?” Pietas took a long, deep breath. “Once you’re dead, your will is no longer relevant.”

Watch Your Six releases Aug 14, 2026