Meng Bi called it the Donn-Tua.

  Admittedly, he wasn't expecting Betelgeuse to care enough to ask about the term—but Betelgeuse did, and Meng Bi took it upon himself to explain.

  Donn-Tua was a term of used by practitioners of the Psychosomatic Art. In not so many words, it denoted the use of intentionality formulations for the purposes of 'scrying'.

  "Do you know how to counter it?" Betelgeuse asked.

  Meng Bi ignored the question and watched his partner's youngish features mold itself with surprising maturity. The roiling emotions, the iron control—it fascinated him.

  'It rather reminds me of someone,' Meng Bi thought, his mind transporting him back to a different age, a different world. He had been on so many worlds that these days all of it tended to blend together—

  But this world, this context, gave him a feeling of freshness he'd not felt in a long while. Perhaps all of it was due to this man before him.

  What do you have in store for me, Mr. Betelgeuse?

  Meng Bi had had personal experience with such kinds of people before, men who suppressed their emotions so tightly that they forced themselves to experience such depths of intensities. Great things usually resulted, though Meng Bi couldn't say for sure if those great things were good or bad.

  Who can judge?

  Out in the street, several destitute figures were lying flat around the Dust-Trekker, their bodies crumpled in various positions where they had fallen. Meng Bi assumed that the Donn-Tua had robbed them of their consciousness.

  "I asked if you know how to counter it," Betelgeuse repeated, turning to address Meng Bi, the Desertian daylight illuminating his features. His forehead had been marked by the 'X' of the penal brand, this Betelgeuse.

  An Anomaly, bearing the penal brand? No chance in hell anyone survived the cannon-fodder-legions without inordinate amounts of luck. There was a letter right in the middle of the 'X', where the keloid scars crossed, that had long ago lost its legibility. Meng Bi played with asking Betelgeuse what that letter was, for no other reason than to sate his own curiosity, but quickly perished the thought.

  It would be highly uncool.

  "I'm shielding us," Meng Bi said simply, facing his cracked visor to the front. The truck was pulling up to the edgemost streets of Gehen, and the jagged line running down the front of his helmet made opposing moats of the eerily still surroundings.

  "Hrnh. You seem well-versed with this Donn-Tua. Is there any way to trace it back? Find out who's surveilling the area?" Betelgeuse asked again, affecting an authoritative tone that, in the circumstances, seemed wildly out of place.

  Meng Bi clicked his tongue irritably.

  The truck trundled to a stop as they reached, finally, the long shadow of the border-tower. Betelgeuse sent Rafayel out with instructions to investigate the Dust-Trekker. There was no movement, and it looked like everyone—including Betelgeuse' crew—had either been struck unconscious or killed. It appeared that Betelgeuse wouldn't risk leaving the cabin, in case the Donn-Tua proved able to penetrate Meng Bi's defenses.

  'Cautious creature,' thought Meng Bi.

  "I mean, it can't be too difficult to trace the Donn-whatever back to its source," Betelgeuse said, once Rafayel had left the cabin.

  "Listen closely because I'm only going to say this once," Meng Bi held up a gloved finger, "Tua is a general term denoting the intentionality-formulations, and the Donn-Tua simply refers to the scrying effects of specific intentionality-formulations. I appreciate you might be unfamiliar with the School of Theli's System-Nomenclature, but you would do well not to make assumptions about the feasibility of tracebacks. Best we can do is parse the intentionality for idiosyncratic characteristics. That way, we can—"

  "—by idiosyncratic characteristics, you mean intentionality-signatures?" Betelgeuse interrupted.

  Meng Bi fell silent. The humming of the truck's engine invaded the cabin. Betelgeuse was as much a thinker as a doer, it was gradually becoming clear.

  Intentionality-signature.

  Betelgeuse' choice of terminology was interesting because it suggested some familiarity with the Thelic concept of Om-Tua, or Intentionality-Distinction. This was the foundational concept underpinning the Psychosomatic Arts as taught by both the Thelic and Sinic* Schools.

  *[In the Sinic School, Om-Tua is known as Chen-Wu: 衬悟, but Om-Tua is the most common way to refer to the concept, even amongst Sinics.]

  But how could Betelgeuse have known about the Om-Tua? Sensing it should have been impossible without proper instruction, and Meng Bi was convinced that Betelgeuse had never received said instruction.

  Then again, here was a PLP that had 'heard' about the Psychosomatic Arts. Where from?

  "... What did you mean by intentionality-signature? Be more specific," Meng Bi urged, his curiosity piqued.

  "The…" Betelgeuse hesitated. "The method of compulsion is… effected by an individual's intentionality. Some people… like yourself, for example… some people have a unique intentionality-signature."

  "And you can feel this?"

  "I can," Betelgeuse confirmed.

  Meng Bi narrowed his eyes behind his visor, activating his helmet's pulse-sensors with a single thought and observing the physiological indicator materialize across his cracked visor.

  Based on Betelgeuse' physiological markers and taking into account the state of his intentionality-waves, Meng Bi concluded that he was telling the truth with a more than 90% certainty.

  … He can sense Om-Tua without training? Has he short-circuited the requirement to maintain a clear structure of intentionality?

  Outwardly, Meng Bi was completely still. But inside… inside, Meng Bi was grappling with the enormity of what Betelgeuse had just said. The implications were potentially far-reaching.

  No, there must be another explanation for this. Earlier, he mentioned the compulsion. 'Compulsion is about subjugating or destroying minds,' he said.

  Back on Earth, Meng Bi had heard rumors of 'gifted acolytes' who could grasp the Om-Tua without training, but he never believed in their existence. "Fake news and unicorns," Meng Bi had described them once, to a friend lost long ago.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  To Meng Bi, the natural and incontrovertible progression of a student of the Psychosomatic Arts was: firstly, learning about the conceptual Om through reading and analyzing text, secondly, imaging exercises by which a 'self' was formulated and then 'imprinted' upon the world as Om-Tua, and thirdly, cultivating the Psychosomatic sense essential to discerning other 'selves', other Om-Tua—the phenomena that Betelgeuse had termed intentionality-signature.

  The compulsion—or 'compulsion matrix', in the TAF Green Book parlance—was simply an abridged and less effective version of the Psychosomatic Arts that professionals utilized. Under the standardized 'compulsion matrix' framework, the 'self' was nothing but a reference point, a brute imprint of 'self' by which one's will could be imposed.

  The 'compulsion matrix' suited the TAF well, for the technique allowed internal cohesion of TAF units to be maintained under battlefield conditions, and yet also kept TAF officers weak enough to be absolutely controlled by the high-tier corporate practitioners of the Psychosomatic Art. The development runway of the 'compulsion matrix' was short and simplistic, and the compulsion could never be used for more sophisticated techniques.

  'However… I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at his awareness, given how quickly he achieved Zhong-Jie,' thought Meng Bi. 'It usually takes much longer. Betelgeuse status as an Anomaly is without question.'

  Betelgeuse obviously knew about the compulsion, but his conceptual understanding was weak, as shown by how confusedly he was using the two terms—'compulsion' and 'intentionality'.

  But it was impossible to create a clearly-defined self (the kind that could be described as mastery of the Om-Tua, the kind that allowed Betelgeuse to sense intentionality-signatures) by simply utilizing the compulsion. The technique was too simpleminded, too infantile…

  Could he have stumbled across the Om-Tua due to fragmenting personalities? Fragmentation accelerates recursion…

  A knocking sound on the right-side door drew their attention. It was Rafayel, rapping his knuckles on the steel siding.

  By then, Meng Bi and Betelgeuse had been sitting quietly in the truck cabin for many minutes, watching each other warily, like beasts gauging their opponent's strength. The clak-clak-clak cleaved through the tension like a knife through butter.

  Grateful for the interruption, Betelgeuse pulled on his gas mask and wound down the window. "Report," he said.

  Rafayel shivered, pushing his dark brows together and replying in a halting manner: "No one... is conscious, sir. No one dead either. But it looks like the doors were... pried open."

  "Doors? What doors?" Betelgeuse shot back.

  "Doors... of that one," Rafayel said, turning and pointing a finger at the Dust-Trekker.

  Cursing deeply, Betelgeuse kicked at the door of the truck, causing it to swing open violently and nearly smashing it into Rafayel. He jumped out of the cabin and made his way quickly toward the Dust-Trekker.

  Meng Bi merely smiled. For all his precocious ability, Betelgeuse was still young, and that meant that he was prone to mistakes. Mistakes that Meng Bi could exploit.

  He's the perfect mix, exactly what I need to track the unfolding of the Manifold's plans. Not the most promising Anomaly I've tested, but surely the most eclectic. He will be an asset in the coming conflict.

  Ah, by now the conflict was inevitable: there were things Meng Bi had uncovered about the Manifold, curious things about gene-manipulation and hyper-species-differentiation that involved religion, ideology and Psychosomaticism. Now that he had Betelgeuse...

  There were more things he had to do, more things to get ready.

  Clasping his hands together, Meng Bi winked out of existence.

  ***

  "—Damn!" Betelgeuse slammed a fist into the back of the Dust-Trekker, causing the chassis to shudder with the force of his blow. The woman they had left within the troop compartment, the one with the expensive-looking suit that Meng Bi had picked out from the Ujung 'cargo'—she was gone. Disappeared.

  Something told him this wasn't a coincidence.

  "It looks like they took her."

  The voice came seemingly from nowhere. Betelgeuse wheeled around to see Meng Bi looking over his shoulder.

  "Can't you walk normally?" Betelgeuse asked, rolling his eyes.

  "If you can Jump, walking becomes a rather tiresome activity," Meng Bi said, side-stepping Betelgeuse, raising his hand and running his fingers over the edge of the Dust-Trekker's backward-facing hatch.

  "See here," he said. "There's damage. Crowbar."

  Meng Bi took a step back and regarded the scrawny Gehennites lying on the ground, their bloodshot eyes staring sightlessly out through the lenses of their masks.

  "We have our perps," he said, pointing out the tools lying about them. "Some of them at least. Controlled by whoever's doing the Donn-Tua."

  "How important is that woman?" Betelgeuse asked, turning to regard the Maschinenfabrik truck several meters down. Private Fuller and a woman—Chalis—could be seen slumped over the dashboard.

  "Important enough that we need to get her back. The fact that they took her is evidence enough. Stand clear," Meng Bi instructed, and Betelgeuse complied.

  Meng Bi dropped to a sitting-position and began to hum in a deep tone. Betelgeuse watched curiously as the humming increased in volume, and then, before his eyes, a tangible pulse emanated from Meng Bi's form like a shockwave.

  Betelgeuse' mind was blasted into crystal-clear clarity, and he swore the smoggy sky changed color from red to blue. Meng Bi's humming gradually reduced in volume.

  Betelgeuse blinked and everything was back to normal…

  The Gehennites were stirring!

  With a practiced motion, Betelgeuse retrieved his combat knife from its sheath and assumed the Edom-ursi stance.

  But the Gehennites rose to their feet and, seeing the tall and burly Earthian eyeing them like a predator, chittered like so many shocked creatures and scattered as quickly as their bare, thin legs would take them, their rags showering red dust in their wake.

  "Should we be capturing them? For information?" Betelgeuse asked, mentally choosing which of the figures he would chase down. All it would take is a single lunge and he'd be within striking distance of that boy…

  "... No. You can stand down," Meng Bi said. "I have him."

  Betelgeuse looked over at Meng Bi to find the man still sitting on the ground.

  "Who?"

  Before Meng Bi could answer, the back hatch of the Dust-Trekker sprang open with a loud metallic shriek. Filippov came stumbling out, jabbering half-phrases that were not at all understandable. Whatever Meng Bi had done had torn Filippov—indeed, Fuller and Chalis also—from his unconsciousness.

  "Compulsion! B.T., it's the fucking compulsion! They got us good in—"

  Betelgeuse sheathed his knife coolly and sensed Filippov's fraying intentionalities. Without much trouble, he smoothed out the former Captain's emotions and induced in him a sudden calmness.

  It's much easier now.

  Yes, he could read everything in Filippov's intentionalities—the sudden realization that someone was imposing the compulsion upon him, the fear of being controlled, the failed last-ditch effort to send Betelgeuse a transceiver message—

  "It's fine, Filippov," Betelgeuse said, placing a hand on the man's shoulder and then indicating for him to get the Dust-Trekker running.

  Filippov complied with a grunt, digging back into the vehicle through the back hatch.

  Turning to Meng Bi, Betelgeuse asked: "You said you found him. The source of the Donn-Tua? You managed to trace him?"

  Meng Bi regained his feet and dusted off his robe.

  "You could say that," he said, his tone strangely grave. "I suppose it would make sense to explain the long and short of it to you… all in service of furthering your education, you understand."

  "Keep the bullshit to a minimum," Betelgeuse returned, his tone betraying his hunger for knowledge. He stared in anticipation, ready for whatever Meng Bi deigned to teach him.

  Meng Bi raised his head. Red sky transforming into gray. The pre-noon brightness diffused through the blanket of chemical smog.

  "There was a mech, if you remember," he said.

  "I remember," Betelgeuse said. "Before you came in and threw your intentionality everywhere."

  "Well, I used a classic tracking technique. I inserted a persistent autonomy-center—you can call this the tracker—into the pilot's Brain Meridian," Meng Bi explained. "In other words, I bugged her mind."

  "So when you sent out an intentionality-wave, the one you just did, it resonated with the tracker... or reflected off it, is that it?" Betelgeuse said.

  "... Sharp," Meng Bi chortled. "You're basically right. It's a technique from the Sinic School called Gen-Zong-Shu*. But it's quite a bit more useful than a bug—you see, when my intentionality-waves bounce off the tracker, it bounces off other autonomy-centers as well. And those waves return, taking with it information about the Incunabula clustered around the tracker. The source of the Donn-Tua lies there."

  *[Gen-Zong-Shu: 跟踪术]

  "It takes practice, however, to parse all this information," Meng Bi said. That, and the bootleg neuro-feeder-implants he'd had inserted back in Consus. But Betelgeuse didn't need to know that.

  "Hrnh," Betelgeuse sounded. The Dust-Trekker clanked and chugged to life, and he could see Filippov snaking his head around to stare at them. "C'mon then. Let's go find that woman."

  "We need a plan, Mr. Betelgeuse. There's a Silver grade who's expecting us, and I expect he won't make things easy," Meng Bi sighed.