Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

  1. Table of Contents (You are here)

Phase One

  2. Prologue

  3. To The Strongest (Skadi-Bubble-Bagpipe)

  4. Oh, The Places We'll Go (Bison-Ceobe)

  5. Chessmaster and Chess Piece (Platinum-Doctor)

  6. The Sane-ish Groups (Suzuran-Utage-Blaze, Cardigan-Gravel-Meteor, Grani-Kafka-Melantha, Rope-Angelina, Greyy-Amiya)

Phase Two

  7. Flames (FEater-Ifrit-Meteorite)

  8. Dust of the Earth (Specter-Mudrock)

  9. Old Ideas Made New (Blemishine-Eunectes)

10. In Their Shadows (Schwarz-Doctor)

11. Mischief and Merriment (Frostleaf-Cliffheart-Ambriel, Blue Poison-Jessica, Vermeil-Vigna, Weedy-Ceylon, Executor-Exusiai)

Phase Three

12. Banishing Old Haunts (Absinthe-Shamare)

13. Locking Horns (Beeswax-Estelle)

14. Man's Best Friends (Beanstalk-Vanilla)

15. Blood Ties (Warfarin-Heavyrain-Doctor)

16. Cheerful Idle Days (Cutter-Akafuyu, Astesia-Mayer, Tequila-Ambriel, Gitano-Myrtle, Franka-Liskarm-Glaucus)

17. At Their Own Pace (Scene-La Pluma-Manticore)

Phase Four

18. Burden of Command (Zima-Gladiia)

19. Mnemosyne (Rosmontis-Ptilopsis-Saga)

20. Divine Dialogue (Dusk-Kjera)

21. In the Name of Progress (Doctor-Silence)

22. Food and Drink and More (Ling-Pallas-Sesa, Rosa-Pramanix, Istina-Breeze, Leto-Click, Gummy-Hung-Aurora)

Phase Five

23. Pining for Home (Fartooth-Firewatch)

24. Unyielding Will (Ch'en-Fiammetta)

25. Free Spirited (Reed-Aciddrop-April)

26. Direction (Swire-Flametail-Doctor)

27. Shared Interests (Ashlock-Pinecone, Perfumer-Matoimaru, Podenco-Nine-Colored Deer, Hoshiguma-Earthspirit, Wild Mane-Ethan-Jackie)

Phase Six

28. Kin Selection (Whislash-Popukar)

29. Birds of a Feather (Orchid-Bibeak-GreyThroat)

30. Soldiers Once (Quercus-Dobermann-Tachanka)

31. Bold Solutions (Doctor-Thorns-Corroserum)

32. Methods of Understanding (Archetto-Croissant, Asbestos-Frost, Catapult-Myrrh, Elysium-Spot-Midnight)

Phase Seven

33. Sound Mind, Body, and Spirit (Flint-Mountain-Waai Fu)

34. Workaholics Anonymous (Jaye-Robin)

35. Electric Potential (Goldenglow-Pudding-Kirara)

36. One Moment At A Time (Lee-Cuora)

37. Legacy (Mousse-Doctor-Eyjafjalla)

38. Tomfoolery (May-Shaw, Sora-Roberta, Andreana-Adnachiel, Tuye-Aak)

Phase Eight

39. Theory and Practice (Vulcan-Dorothy)

40. Friction of Philosophies (Chiave-Toddifons-Minimalist)

41. Boundless Curiosity (Bena-Mint)

42. Weighing Choices (Matterhorn-Mizuki-Projekt Red)

43. Unfettered and Unalike (Haze-Gavial-Doctor)

44. Looking Out For Each Other (Broca-Courier, Iris-Aosta, Plume-Dur-nar, Sideroca-Tomimi)

Phase Nine

45. Higher Calling (Cantabile-ShiraYuki-Kazemaru)

46. At Arms’ Length (Shalem-Scavenger)

47. Qualia (Lumen-Surtr-Nightingale)

48. Tastes of Home and History (Savage-Mostima)

49. Spirit and Letter (Doctor-Proviso-Penance)

50. Looking Back and Looking Forward (Snowsant-Skyfire-Phantom, Hibiscus-Honeyberry, Provence-Steward)

Phase Ten

51. Sisterly Nature (Lunacub-Carnelian-Lava)

52. Passing The Torch (Whisperain-Rangers)

53. Light And Shadow (Nightmare-Purestream-Flamebringer)

54. Emergent Behavior (Astgenne-Doctor-Highmore)

55. Mutual Eccentricity (Beehunter-Indra, Deepcolor-Czerny, Mulberry-Firewhistle-Tsukinogi, Ansel-Paprika)

Phase Eleven

56. Gearheads (Stainless-Windflit-Indigo)

57. Arcing True (Erato-Pozëmka)

58. Greener Grass (Yato-Ash-Luo Xiaohei)

59. Gemütlichkeit (Ebenholz-Blitz)

60. Spirit (Chongyue-Doctor-Noir Corne)

61. Serious and Seriously Silly (Leonhardt-Nian, Folinic-Enforcer, Vigil-Lin, Leizi-Ayerscarpe)

Phase Twelve

62. Hearth and Faith (Arene-Jieyun)

63. Twice Over Rotten Luck (U-Official-Poncirus-Valarqvin)

64. Heart to Hart (Blacknight-Typhon)

65. Miracle Children (Irene-Santalla)

66. Windstrewn Samaras (Muelsyse-Bryophyta-Doctor)

67. Looking Back On Trodden Paths (Beagle-Durin, Puzzle-Rockrock-Kroos, Saileach-Sussurro, Totter-Qanipalaat)

Phase Thirteen

68. Phase Thirteen: Pursuing Paradise (Ray-Caper)

69. Phase Thirteen: Rusted Spurs (Hellagur-Harold-Młynar)

70. Phase Thirteen: Bad Hands All Around (Melanite-Quartz)

71. Phase Thirteen: Reunited (Doctor-Texas-Nearl)

72. Phase Thirteen: Retrospection (Conviction-12F, Almond-Warmy, Heidi-Passenger, Mr. Nothing-Kestrel)

Phase Fourteen

73. Phase Fourteen: Simple, Straightforward, And Steady (Degenbrecher-Qiubai-Lessing)

74. Phase Fourteen: Machine Men (Humus-Executor)

75. Phase Fourteen: Mantles Donned And Left Behind (Viviana-Delphine-Jessica)

76. Phase Fourteen: The Worth Of A Few Words (Wind Chimes-Lutonada-Doctor)

77. Phase Fourteen: Solid As Bedrock (Shining-Saria)

78. Phase Fourteen: Crisscrossing Trails

Chapter Text

---

Subject: Rhodes Island Room Touring Initiative
From: Amiya
To: Everyone

Hello everyone,

Rhodes Island Pharmaceutical has taken on many new employees and patients recently. As such, I am happy to announce a new initiative to better connect the residents of this landship. Starting very soon, residents can opt in to a program where they will be randomly assigned a partner or partners whom they will showcase their living spaces to. We hope that this will allow our operators and employees to get to know each other better.

As a show of solidarity, the Doctor and I will also join the program. More details will come as we get an idea of how many people want to participate. Until then, if you have any comments, feel free to let me know!

---

Subject: Re: Rhodes Island Room Touring Initiative
From: Amiya
To: Everyone

Hello again everyone,

I am gladdened by the overwhelming support that this initiative has gotten. Human Resources is currently sifting through all the applicants as we are speaking. Currently, we are planning a small first phase consisting of groups of two or three. Some have voiced concerns about potentially dangerous groupings. Such possibilities have been predicted and have been preemptively excluded from the randomization process.

Also, I would like to remind everyone that, sans the dangerous groupings mentioned above, the matching will be random. Thus, while I’m sure many would be flattered by the number of people asking for them specifically, we will not be fulfilling specific requests. After all, this is a chance to meet new people first and foremost. If there are any further comments, feel free to let me know.

---

Subject: Request to Stop the Influx of Gifts
From: Amiya
To: Everyone

Hello everyone,

Recently, I and members of Human Resources have been given a copious amount of gifts from various operators. While I and many on the team are grateful for the appreciation, we are politely requesting that the frequency be lowered. The amount of things we have to process has been overwhelming.

Perhaps this is just a coincidence, but many of the gift-givers have expressed certain concerns about the recent room sharing project. I would like to reiterate once again that the selections will be random. We are still in the process of ironing out our groups, but those who have been approved for the first phase should be hearing back soon. I hope everyone will be able to make new friends!

---

Phase One Groupings

Suzuran-Utage-Blaze
Cardigan-Gravel-Meteor
Grani-Kafka-Melantha
Skadi-Bagpipe-Bubble
Bison-Ceobe
Rope-Angelina
Greyy-Amiya
Doctor-Platinum

---

The Doctor sighed to himself as he looked at the listings on his phone. When Amiya said they would be using “safe” picks as a pilot, this wasn’t what he had in mind. Who thought Skadi, Bubble, and Ceobe classified as safe? Not to mention letting both Platinum and Gravel in. Just yesterday, he saw Gravel staring daggers at Platinum when they passed each other in the halls. And poor Bison would have to deal with Ceobe alone!

“We wanted to test how far we could take this program.” Amiya said sheepishly. “Rhodes Island has to be able to manage people from all walks of life, so we have to be ready for personal conflicts sooner or later.”

“Are you sure you didn’t fudge the results a little?” The bunny shook her head.

“As I said before, we only made sure to not pair up people that we knew wouldn’t get along. Don’t worry, we have volunteers ready to break up fights if it absolutely comes to that.”

“I sure hope you’re right.” The Doctor leaned back. He would need to spruce up his room a little before he let Platinum in. The others on the list probably thought the same.

Chapter Text

---

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Bubble gleefully shouted. The various employees in front of the girl gave her a wide berth as she stampeded down the halls. Some of them pressing themselves as hard as possible against the walls. Turning round a corner, the rhino was going too fast and slammed into a wall. With a loud thud, she left a massive dent in the metal, much to the horror of those present.

“Oh boy, Closure’s not gonna like that. If anyone asks, I wasn’t here.” One operator remarked as Bubble’s compatriots ran after her.

“Bubble!” Bagpipe shouted as she grabbed the girl by her collar. Even with her Vouivre strength, the child was a handful to restrain. “You know the Doctor doesn’t like it when you run through the halls. If you keep causing trouble, I’m gonna have to tell him.”

The Ceratos gasped as her excitement died down. Her face turning pale. Bagpipe patted her on the head reassuringly.

“I’m sure you were just excited to show your room to us, but be patient, okay? We’re not going anywhere. How about when we’re done, I’ll help you write an apology letter to engineering?” She beamed at the young defender, who nodded energetically.

Having finally managed to calm her down, Bagpipe and Skadi accompanied the girl, who was humming happily as she walked. The wyvern glanced at the bounty hunter, who had stayed silent the entire time.

“Excited to see her room?” Bagpipe asked casually. Skadi simply shrugged, her face completely neutral. Bagpipe giggled silently to herself. She had seen Skadi glance longingly at the Doctor before. She had a feeling the white-haired girl only signed up for a chance to get paired with him. Speaking of, the former soldier had received a rather lengthy email from him a few days prior on how to deal with both problem children. She guessed she was trusted to be the reliable one out of the trio.

“You know, the Doctor does care a lot about you.” It was minor, but Bagpipe could see the bounty hunter perk up upon hearing these words. “He’s worried that you haven’t been interacting with people outside of Grani and your old friends. Um, Specter and Gladiia, I think he called him. He said he would follow up with you after this to make sure you had a good time.”

While Skadi didn’t say anything, the way she walked briskly to match pace with Bubble was enough. Bagpipe sighed to herself as she quickened her pace to match the two. This was going to be an interesting day, to say the least.

---

“And this is my mom.” Bubbles shoved a finger to a woman in a photo. She then jabbed a finger to a large man standing behind everyone. “And this is my dad! Isn’t he the bestest?”

“Wow! He’s huge!” Bagpipe commented. Judging by the proportions of everyone, he was probably around 2 meters tall. Maybe even taller.

“Yep! And one day I’ll be just as big as him. Maybe even bigger!” Bubble replied as she stood on tiptoes and stretched her arms out. Bagpipe turned over to Skadi, who was staring blankly at the photo.

“What are you thinking about, Skadi?”

“Reminds me of something.” The orca replied tersely. “Fought something big like him once.”

“What? No way!” Bubble sprinted closer to Skadi, causing the bounty hunter to flip over her to avoid getting slammed into, much to Bagpipe’s shock. The girl turned around, seemingly unfazed. “Who was it? I bet they weren’t as cool as Dad.”

“Maybe a bit bigger.”

“Nuh uh.” Bubble shook her head in disbelief. “What did it look like?”

Skadi zoned out for a moment, trying to find the best way to describe the Seaborn Bishop she fought at Sal Viento. Finally, she came up with a single word. “Flower.”

“That doesn’t sound that intimidating.” Bagpipe commented. Bubble’s enthusiasm didn’t wane like hers. Perhaps that was a benefit of youth.

“There were two of them.”

“And?” Bubble asked expectantly.

“It had tentacles.”

“Like an octopus?” Bagpipe asked.

“They were poisonous tentacles.”

“Cool! How did you kill it?”

“Hit it with my sword.” Bagpipe was about to ask her for more details, but Bubble nodded her head sagely at that response. Did the child understand something she didn’t? Or was she content with simply imagining the fight?

“Miss Skadi, do you think the flower monster would be squished if I hit it with my shield?”

“Probably. The hardest part wasn’t killing him. It was escaping the cave before it flooded.”

“Huh? I think we’re missing a few details here.” Bagpipe commented. The Doctor had said in his email that Skadi could be a need-to-know kind of person, but this took the cake.

“I know what happened!” Bubble declared before leaping onto her bed. “Miss Skadi was hunting down a monster that was terrorizing a nearby village. She tracked it down to its lair, an underwater cave where it would drag its victims to eat. She then struck her sword into the center of its flower, killing it. But, the monster was also holding the cave up, so she had to run before she got stuck inside.”

Skadi nodded. “That’s more or less it.” Bagpipe was dumbfounded. Somehow, the two of them had managed to bond on a spiritual level. Was this some sort of connection between meatheads? If so, why wasn’t she invited? Was she too smart?

While Bagpipe was distracted by her own confusion, Bubble pulled Skadi over to her pile of books. While most of the schoolbooks didn’t interest the bounty hunter, an encyclopedia on animals definitely did.

“Miss Skadi, if an explosive slug tried to attack you, how would you win?”

“Knock it away.”

“But how would you do that with your sword?”

“Hit it really hard.”

The rhino nodded as if she had just received crucial advice. As she flipped quickly through the pages, she eventually landed on a picture of large beast, bristling with horns and tusks. Skadi pointed to a spot on the side of its forehead.

“It has a weak spot here. If you hit it, it’ll be paralyzed and fall to the ground.”

Bagpipe sighed as she watched Skadi give the young defender advice on beastslaying. She walked up and joined them. While she certainly didn’t have the hunting experience that Skadi had, her knowledge of domesticated animals was sufficient to entertain the young girl.

“Aye, we’d have contests back on the farm to see who could stay on the longest before getting bucked off.” She recounted to her two partners. Bubble was listening intently, while Skadi seemed deep in thought. As if trying to formulate a strategy should she hypothetically need to mount a burdenbeast herself. Bagpipe’s story was cut off as she looked at her watch. She quickly shepherded her two companions out and onto their next adventure.

---

“Well, it’s not much, but here’s my room.” Bagpipe announced as she gestured for her friends to enter.

“Wow.” Bubble exclaimed as she looked around. There were empty snack wrappers strewn about, not to mention a few plastic bags of trash piled into a corner of the room. The bedsheets was messily arranged while the covering was undone in one corner. “Miss Bagpipe, how do you get away with having such a messy room? I always get scolded if I don’t do my chores.”

“Food waste can attract pests.” Skadi poked the trashbags. “You should get rid of these before you get uninvited guests.”

Bagpipe stammered as she got double-teamed. She was a bit messy and unorganized, sure. But she certainly didn’t think it was that bad. She had certainly seen worse during her training days. Bubble interrupted the reaming of her habits by pointing to a picture on the Vouivre’s desk.

“Oh, isn’t that Miss Ch’en? Wow, even though she looks younger, she as grumpy as always.”

Bagpipe laughed at the girl’s comment. “Oh, Chenchen and me go way back. We went to military academy together. I’m sure she’s got a lot on her plate, so please don’t take it the wrong way if she’s standoffish sometimes. We certainly have someone like that in the room right now.”

“Who do you think would win if you fought her?” Bubble asked.

“Honestly, probably her.” Bagpipe scratched the cheek as she smiled sheepishly. “She’s way stronger than me when she really wants to fight. Gets way too into her own head sometimes, though.”

“What are you growing?” Skadi tilted her head as she stared at a clay pot balanced on the windowsill. Inside was a small shoot barely poking out of the soil.

“Oh, it’s just some mint.” Bagpipe lifted the pot gently and inhaled the earthy aroma of the soil. “Probably won’t grow too big, but I just wanted a little earth in my room. Most of what I grow is in the garden.”

“Are you from the countryside?” Skadi asked. She understood the desire to have a piece of home. If she could, she would prefer something that smelled of the ocean breeze, but it seemed like the land-dwellers had nothing that could completely capture that scent.

Bagpipe nodded enthusiastically. “I’m more comfortable working a field than walking a city. If you ask me, a patch is dirt is way better than concrete and steel. That reminds me, I recently got permission to start growing potatoes in the greenhouse.”

“Potatoes? I love potatoes!” The Ceratos hopped up and down. “Can we see them? Can we see them?”

“Now, now. I just planted them, so they’re still underground. But, if you wait a while, you might get to eat them in the cafeteria soon enough.”

Bubble cheered as she fantasized about the various foodstuffs she’d get to eat. At Skadi’s insistence, the trio decided to clear Bagpipe’s room of trash before moving on to the last room of the day.

---

“Here.” Skadi walked into her bedroom, Bubble and Bagpipe following soon after. Bagpipe was quite surprised by what was inside. Skadi was considered a walking calamity by those aboard, so she had expected something far more sinister. Instead, there seemed to be a perfectly normal room. A bit barren, but lived in all the same. The most eyecatching thing in the room was a bright red dress hanging in her open closet.

“Wow, that’s quite a daring getup.” Bagpipe gently pinched the fabric between her fingers.

“Got it from an old acquaintance.”

“They must have really liked you if they gave you something like this.”

“He was a liar.”

Bagpipe didn’t know what to say to that. She must have inadvertently dug up an old wound. “M-moving on. You must look really good in this. I’d be super embarrassed if I wore this. I mean, I don’t even know how to put on makeup properly.”

“I don’t either!” Bubble exclaimed as she turned her head. The rhino had been looking at Skadi’s massive sword. She desperately wanted to pick it up and swing it around, but was waiting to ask for permission.

“I don’t care for it. Seawater ruins it too easily.”

“Uh, okay.” Bagpipe ignored the bounty hunter’s comment as she looked over at Bubble. “Skadi, Bubble seems to be pretty interested in your weapon.”

“Can I please swing it around? I’ll be careful, I promise.”

The Abyssal Hunter shook her head decisively. “Not in here. Maybe later.”

“Ok, that’s a promise, right?” Skadi considered the girl’s words for a brief moment before nodding. Excited, Bubble trotted over to a hat rack. “Then can try on one of these? You’re always wearing one.”

“Um…” Skadi was conflicted. She’d rather not have the child damage one of her hats, but the way Bubble looked at her pleadingly was hard to refuse. She picked up a teal hat while the Ceratos stayed still. “Just be careful, okay?”

As Skadi put the hat onto the girl, Bubble smiled and began jogging around the room, her hat sticking out like the backfin of a shark.

“Didn’t realize you were into hattery.” Skadi smiled gently as she watched the defender run around her room, arms spread out like an airplane.

“I can’t make them myself. But I like them.”

“If I’m not being rude, I’m wondering what those papers on your desk were. They aren’t in any language I know.”

“They’re just songs from my homeland. I wanted to write them down in case I forgot. And so I could teach them to the Doctor.”

“Oh, I see.” The way Skadi smiled when she mentioned that name gave Bagpipe all she needed to know. “Well, hopefully once you teach the Doctor you can teach the rest of us too. What’s your home like anyways, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The Abyssal Hunter looked wistfully into the distance as she recalled her homeland. “It was a place cradled beneath the salty-white seafoam. When you waded along the surface during a clear night, the sea of stars danced alongside a sea of city lights.”

“Wow.” Bagpipe was taken aback. The normally terse Skadi getting poetic was shocking. “It sounds like a beautiful place. Maybe one day, you’ll be able to take the Doctor and all of us to visit. Just from what you told me, I’d love to see it in person.”

“Perhaps.” Skadi’s face turned forlorn. “It was recently stricken by a great calamity. But so have many other homelands in Terra.”

Bagpipe nodded solemnly. She certainly knew something about that. “Then I suppose Rhodes will have to help fix it then. So we can all show our homelands to each other.”

Skadi gave her a small smile. Once upon a time, she would have scoffed at such a notion. If an Abyssal Hunter like her was running away from Aegir’s horrors, what could landlubbers do? But something about the people at Rhodes Island made her want to hope. As the two enjoyed a brief silence of understanding, Bubble trotted up to them.

“What were you two talking about?”

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything important.” Bagpipe replied. “Well, it’s getting late, so I think we should wrap up soon. Hopefully we can hang out together again.”

“One more thing.” Skadi gestured for her two new friends to follow her. “One more thing I want to show you.”

“Sure thing, but why are we going to the bathroom?” Bagpipe asked.

---

Subject: AAAAAAAAAAAAA
From: Closure
To: Amiya, Doctor

Would someone mind telling me why the first thing I see when I check my emails IS AN INVOICE FOR HULL REPAIRS? I thought you folks had Bubble-related incidents taken care of. Also, could you believe that attached to her apology was a damn request for a new toilet! The gall of that girl. It’s a rather fancy one too, like the one we got Skadi as a gift. I swear, that bounty hunter was the pickiest customer I’ve ever met. I didn’t even realize toilets that high tech existed. And now Bubble wants one. This better not be a trend, or you two should start thinking about how we get more money ASAP. Now if you could excuse me, I have to order materials.

Closure

---

Subject: Re: How to Deal with Skadi and Bubble
From: Bagpipe
To: Doctor

Hey Doctor!

Thanks again for letting me namedrop you in case something went wrong. This was a blast! The two of them were a handful at first, but they were super cool to hang out with. Skadi seemed really worried when we parted, like we were never going to see each other again. The way she smiled after I reassured her was so cute. Grani was acting all high-and-mighty afterwards, saying “I told you so.” I guess even a “Living Calamity” has a cute side.

Also, I helped Bubble write a letter back to her family. She is the most adorable thing ever XD, I had to include it.

The Doctor opened the attached image. On it was the sloppy handwriting that signified that the author was Bubble. It was neater than usual, probably at the behest of Bagpipe.

“Dear Dad,

I’m having a great time at Rhodes Islands. There’s a bunch of strong people here and I’m learning a bunch from them. Recently, I met Miss Skadi and Miss Bagpipe. Miss Skadi is a bounty hunter and Miss Bagpipe was a Victorian soldier. They both taught me how to hunt beasts. Miss Skadi even let me wear one of her bounty hunter hats! She’s super strong, and I asked her to come back home if we had the chance. I would love to see her fight you, although I’m sure you could easily win against her!”

---

The Doctor laughed to himself as he closed the letter. Thankfully, one of the problem groups had coasted through without major difficulty. He let out a sigh of relief. Now to see how the other groups got along.

---

Chapter Text

---

“What’s this thing?” Ceobe stared at a bauble on Bison’s shelf.

“That’s just a commemorative shotglass from Bolivar.” Bison replied in a neutral tone. “Got it as a gift for delivering supplies there.”

“And this?” The Perro tilted her head down.

“That’s a medallion used by the Copsetrail Market. You can’t do business with them without it.”

“Is this food?” Ceobe started salivating as she pawed at the glass, desperately wanting what looked like a biscuit. “Can I eat it?”

Bison shook his head. “It’s just a model used for commercials. It’s about as tasty as plastic. I’ll get you something to eat later.”

Ceobe whined in disappointment, her ears drooping down. If Bison had been assigned to her a year or two earlier, he would have refused outright. But, dealing with Penguin Logistics’ antics on a regular basis had inured him to zaniness. After making sure to secure everything he wanted to show and sealing away everything else, he was fine with letting Ceobe run amok. She would have to tire eventually.

Although it was a bit bothersome having to constantly keep an eye on her. The Doctor was right, her spontaneity made it impossible for her to stay in one place. Bison thought he was joking, but a few minutes walking down the hall with her had quickly proven that the Doctor was understating things. The mere glimpse of anything shiny was enough to catch her eye. Not to mention her habit of wandering off at the slightest wiff of food. Thus, the moment Ceobe ran out the door, Bison quickly followed after her. Lest he lose sight of her again.

The young Perro jogged up to a vending machine before pushing on it repeatedly.

“Hey, careful. You don’t want it to fall on top of you, do you?.” Bison put a hand on top of the thing, sighing as he did so. Another thing he was told: Ceobe could become hungry at the drop of a hat. “I’ll pay for something, what would you like?”

“Hmm?” Ceobe tilted her head in confusion before shrugging. She stared blankly at him, waiting for him to give her something to eat.

“Ok, can you point to the one you like?”

Ceobe lifted her pointer finger and touched the glass. Landing in between two snacks. Bison pinched the bridge of his nose. He decided to just get a random one, figuring that she wouldn’t mind either way. After retrieving a pack of chips and carefully opening it himself, he handed the snack over to his companion. Who proceeded to shove a fistful into her mouth, crumbs falling all over the floor.

“Wasn’t it just lunch time?” The guy thought to himself. Then again, he had seen a sign indicating that she was prohibited from the kitchen, so maybe the girl was just a glutton. As she finished the snack, she looked around before wandering off again.

“Ah, Ceobe! Where are you going?”

“Thirsty.” She chirped out before going to the bathroom. Bison paused for a moment, stuck in a dilemma. He knew he shouldn’t take his eyes off her, but at the same time barging into the women’s bathroom was a no-go as well. Then again, he had done it before thanks to Exusiai blowing up a toilet once. As he agonized over the least worst decision, Ceobe skipped out, her face dripping with water.

“D-did you just? Is this sink water?”

Ceobe nodded happily as Bison took out a handkerchief and dried her off. Ceobe obediently stayed still as he did so. Other operators doted on her constantly, so she had become accustomed to being cleaned up when she made a mess. “So, how did the water taste?”

“Good.” The Forte was not surprised, given what he had seen so far. Then again, for most wanderers, having filtered water was a luxury. And this girl, despite her airheadedness, had clearly tread countless lands. Without saying a word, she sprinted back into Bison’s room.

“Ceobe! What’s wrong?” Bison soon bolted after her. He figured that a fed and slaked Ceobe would be a content Ceobe. Apparently not. Anticipating the worse, he breathed a sigh of relief as he found her staring at a box on top of a cabinet. The little Perro stood on her tiptoes as she tried to reach it, the weapons on her back tapping against the cabinet doors as she did so.

“Hold on, let me get a chair.” The Forte safely brought the box down and handed it to the girl. Ceobe rummaged through the contents until she gently pulled out a rusty knife, enraptured by it. Bison could barely recall where he even got the thing from. Maybe it was something that got thrown in as a reward. Or maybe it was something a MountainDash employee got scammed into buying. He must have tossed into storage at some point and forgotten all about it. So he couldn’t figure out why Ceobe would be that interested in it.

“Can I have it?” The Perro looked at him with pleading eyes. He didn’t know why she wanted it. Compared to the weapons she was carrying around, it was a piece of junk.

“If you want.” He replied. He certainly didn’t have a use for it. If she wanted to restore the dagger, that was on her. The girl jumped up and down in jubilation. Bison smirked to himself. Hanging out with Ceobe was different compared to Penguin Logistics. She was just as crazy as them, but far more innocent than all the girls put together. It was a nice change of pace, especially since he wasn’t constantly the whipping boy this time. He cleared his throat and waited for the girl to settle down.

“Alright, now that that’s taken care of, where do you want to go? We can keep looking at my room or we can go to your room.”

“Let’s go to my room! I want to lay down and take a nap.” Ceobe declared. For someone that wanted to sleep, she sure was jumping around a lot. Maybe she knew she would be tired by the time she got back.

“Alright, hold on. I have the directions written down somewhere.” Bison searched his pants pockets, only to find nothing but lint. He searched his jacket, only to find nothing as well. He looked around the room, hoping that he left it somewhere. Then it hit him, he left the note in Logistics. All the way on the other side of the ship.

He opened his phone and frantically searched for the email. Only to find that he had forgotten to charge it. This was going from bad to worse. He could use his laptop, but having to read it off that and keep an eye on Ceobe without dropping it or losing her seemed too difficult.

While he had been going with the flow so far, this was the first time he was seriously worried. The one thing the Doctor warned him about above all else: Ceobe has an awful sense of direction. Never let her lead you anywhere. But at the same time, it looked like he didn’t have much of a choice. At least not without having her wander off somewhere.

“Um, Ceobe–“

“Kay.”

“What?”

“You gave me a weapon. That makes you my friend. My friends call me Kay.” She beamed at him. Bison sighed, her loyalty was won quite easily. If only everyone were as trusting as her, the world would be a lot more peaceful.

“Alright, Kay. Can you lead me to your room?” Bison really hoped the Doctor was just exaggerating.

“Kay.” The Forte looked at her in confusion. Was she saying her name or agreeing?

Before he could ask, the Perro marched out the door and looked around. She did an about-face and pointed up. “We go up!”

Bison nodded as the two moved to the lifts. At the same time, he was skeptical. He couldn’t recall there being any dorm rooms on the floor above.

---

“Kay, this is the cafeteria. Why are we here?”

“Hungry.” Kay replied tersely before walking into the kitchen. There was clearly a sign prohibiting her, with her face plastered over it and everything. Was she illiterate or did she simply not care?

“Ceobe?! You can read the sign! Get out!” Bison heard angry shouting from inside. The man sighed as he got a sandwich from the counter.

“Don’t try to rip off the padlocks! We just got new ones after you broke them last week.”

“Look, if I make something for you next time, will you leave this time?”

Kay was eventually evicted from the kitchen, whining all the way. The cooks hardened their hearts as they slammed the door to the kitchen. The Perro’s despondence didn’t last long, however, as Bison gave her a sandwich, which she eagerly shoved into her mouth.

“Alright, now that that’s taken care of, why don’t we walk to your room while you eat?”

“Mhhm.” Kay happily grunted as she scarfed down her meal. She pointed in a direction and started jogging that way. Bison followed her, getting more concerned with each step.

---

Somehow, the two of them ended up at the Doctor’s office instead. Unfortunately, it seemed like he was out at the moment. Then again, that at least spared Bison from a scolding.

“Kay, was there something we needed from the Doctor?”

“Nope.” She answered cheerily. “But sometimes I take a nap on his sofa. He isn’t in, so let’s keep going.”

As Bison followed the hyperactive Perro, his anxiety was increasing exponentially. They were moving even further from the dorms.

---

“Kay, this isn’t even close to the dorms. Why are we in Engineering?” Bison was getting aggravated. He took a deep breath and calmed down. This was technically his fault. He walked after her, hoping that she wouldn’t disrupt anything important.

“Oh, Kay. You’re back already?” A voice sounded out from the forge. “Goodness, have you been snacking again? You have crumbs all over your face.”

Vulcan took out a napkin and began cleaning the Perro’s face. Kay smiled happily at the smith as crumbs were wiped away.

“Ah, you must be Ceobe’s partner for the room swap thing. Bison, right? Kay told me about it.”

He nodded as he watched Ceobe set down her backpack of weapons and cozy up on a cushion nested behind some barriers. Well, that was one place to take a nap. At least he could take his eyes off her for a little bit. “Well, it’s about half done. We were trying to get to her room.”

Vulcan’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you let her lead you?”

Bison scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “Truth be told, I had the directions. I just lost them and didn’t have a way to retrieve them while I was…you know…with her.”

“Good heavens.” Vulcan sighed. “You were lucky she managed to find her way here. She has a habit of wandering into places she shouldn’t be if left alone. I’ll write down how to get there. Try to keep these directions this time.”

“Will do. By the way, I let her take an old knife back. It looked like a rusty piece of junk, so I wasn’t sure why she was so interested in it.”

“Really now? I’ll take a look at it.” Vulcan gently walked up to Kay and pried the knife from her hands. The Perro mumbled in her sleep, but otherwise didn’t stir. “You’re not wrong. It doesn’t appear that exceptional, but the child has a keen eye for quality in spite of her ignorance.”

“Her talent involves weaponry, I presume?”

Vulcan nodded as she began sanding down the rust. “Something about her Arts compels her to collect certain weapons to use as a conduit. No one really understands what she’s looking for, not even her.”

That tracked with what Bison knew about the caster. When she was fighting, she carried a veritable armory on her back. Even experienced messengers would struggle to carry all her gear, and she seemed completely unfazed.

“Sparks might start flying soon, so you should probably stay behind the barrier with Kay.” Vulcan warned. Bison tiptoed around the napping dog and watched Vulcan work. The blacksmith used a grindstone to remove most of the rust, revealing sleek silverish metal beneath. Holding it up to the light, a sheen danced around the bands on the flat of the blade.

“Is this pattern welding? Fascinating.” Vulcan mumbled to herself as she looked at the darker bands crisscrossing the blade. “Where did you get something like this?”

“Honestly, I can’t remember. I think a MountainDash employee picked it up somewhere and then it ended up in my hands.”

“Really now?” Vulcan used a chisel to chip away a small sheet of rust, putting it into a plastic bag. “I should try to date this later. It might be a modern replica, but the blade itself could also be ancient.”

“How do you know?”

“Outside of aesthetics, modern forging doesn’t use pattern welding anymore. There’s no need.” Vulcan explained as she continued sanding away the rust. “It was mostly used when iron refining was unreliable. As refining methods became more advanced and consistent, the technique became obsolete.”

Vulcan put the restored knife in a case before leaving it by the napping girl’s head. “I’ll make a proper holster for it later, but this should do for now. Hopefully, she won’t take it out into the field until she can carry it properly.”

Bison looked at the Perro sleeping peacefully on the floor, a thin river of drool escaping her mouth. He almost didn’t want to disturb her. “Should I carry her to her room?”

“Kay doesn’t really like being moved if she’s napping, so I say leave her be. Don’t worry, you aren’t missing much. Her dorm room is less a bedroom and more a stash for all her weapons, anyways. Most of the time, she ends up crashing here with me, or at the Doctor’s office, or with Hibiscus and Lava.”

“Is that so?” Bison knelt down and ruffled Kay’s ears. The girl murmured happily in her sleep in response, her tail flapping up and down. He smiled to himself. What a free-spirited girl. In a way, he supposed she did show him her room. It just happened to be spread out all over the ship.

---

Subject: Kay’s New Weapon and Room Followup

From: Vulcan

To: Doctor, Amiya

Hello you two,

Following the room swap, it seems Bison had a weapon that Kay was interested in. I’ve already restored it, so it should be combat ready as soon as a holster is fashioned for it. Until then, if you could restrain Kay from carrying it into battle, that would be great. I’d hate to see her hurt herself.

As an aside, I’ve sent images and samples to the archaeology section of Engineering. While the exact details haven’t come in yet, preliminary hypotheses date it to Iron Age Victoria. How MountainDash Logistics managed to get their hands on an artifact that would normally be in a private collection or a museum and then proceed to toss it into junk storage is anyone’s guess. Bison claims that it was merely happenstance, and the lad didn’t seem like he was lying. Perhaps you two would be able to shed more light on this if you contact with his father.

Also, since Kay doesn’t seem inclined to write a report herself, I’ll do it for her. It seems like she and Bison get along decently well. She certainly trusts him enough to keep her focused. Kay also asked for permission before taking her weapon of interest this time, so that’s a marked improvement over how she was before she got here. He is perhaps a bit too indulgent of her habits, but I suppose it’s not his place to discipline her. I worry for the lad’s sanity sometimes, but he mostly just laughed it off. Apparently, dealing with her is better than dealing with the Penguin Logistics girls. That’s all I had to say.

Vulcan

---

The Doctor breathed another sigh of relief. Thankfully, the second problem pairing went off without major hitches as well. Apparently, things were a bit touch and go after the two got lost, but it all worked out in the end. The man felt a massive weight off his shoulders.

Pulling up Bison’s email, there wasn’t much of note. It was as meticulous as he expected from a logistics messenger, covering even the most insignificant minutiae. The Doctor chuckled to himself as he neared the end. Apparently, Kay wanted to share some honey biscuits with Bison as thanks, only to eat all but one when he finally reached her room.

Chapter Text

---

Platinum was conflicted as she entered the Doctor’s room. She didn’t know what to expect. The man was inscrutable. When it came to authority, she knew how to handle the shady board members of the KGCC, or the ruthlessness of the Armorless Union. Kal’tsit reminded her enough of both her old bosses, only scarier. Amiya was cheery to the point of annoyance, but easy enough to please. But the Doctor was a completely alien beast.

Even now, with his hood down, she didn’t know what to think. His eyes held too many emotions in them to read. Compassion and pragmatism. Logic and madness. Joviality and solemnity. The one thing she didn’t see was doubt. She never once saw it in his eyes, not even when they met. And that both terrified and fascinated her.

“I know it’s not exactly the coziest, but it’s home.” The Doctor’s voice was casual and quiet, but every word demanded attention from the white-haired Kuranta. “When I’m not sleeping in my office, that is. Amiya gets on my case for it, but work never ends around here.”

“I know how that feels.” Platinum replied tersely as she looked around. There wasn’t too much in the way of personal effects. Bummer, she was hoping to learn a little more about him. No family or pictures of his youth. Just posters of a few famous bands and some medical charts here and there. So far, the quintessential working stiff. To Platinum, the Doctor was far too intriguing a person to have such a standard room. Eventually, one thing caught her eye. Hanging on a cork board was a collage of photos suspended by multicolored thumbtacks. Children, adults, seniors of all races smiling at the camera.

“Those are some of the people we’ve treated.” The Doctor explained as he stared at the collage. “I keep it here to remind myself of the good we’ve done. And why we exist in the first place.”

“Aren’t you a humanitarian.” Platinum replied dismissively. Perhaps, in a better life, she would’ve taken the Doctor at face value. At the moment, though, all she thought was that it was a bit egotistical. It reminder her too much of Kazimierz’s CEOs constantly showing off their endless graphs and quarterly reports. She looked at another collection of photos separate from the first. “Is this another showing of triumphs?”

The Doctor shook his head. “Those are the ones that have died under our care.”

Platinum’s blinked in shock. That was…morbid. Some of the people seemed pretty young, too. The former assassin couldn’t even think about what to say to that. She knew some in her line of work glorified their killing, but why would a healer keep something like this?

“Relax, you’re not in danger. I’m not some angel of death.” The Doctor chuckled forlornly as he stared at the faces of the departed. “What do you think the job of a doctor is?”

“I bet it’s something cheesy like saving lives, right?” The Doctor shook his head again, much to Platinum’s confusion.

“Doctors delay death. That’s all we can do. Try to prolong their life as much as we can, but it all ends the same way. If they didn’t die under our care, they will eventually die under some other hospice’s care. All the medicine in the world can’t beat the reaper.”

He stayed silent for a moment, letting everything sink in. “But at the same time, look at their smiling faces. After every operation, after every clinical trial, we managed to buy them at least one more day. That’s worth something, I’d say.”

“Hoping to convert me over to your cause?” Platinum raised an eyebrow in skepticism. The only reason she was here was to dodge her duties back in Kazimierz. Even if the Doctor asked, she had no interest in whatever Rhodes wanted.

“That’s up to you. Moving on,” The Doctor replied nonchalantly. He walked over to an electric kettle and picked it up. “Fancy a snack?”

“Oh? Of what exactly?” The Doctor pulled out a pack of instant noodles from a desk drawer, which from a glance seemed filled to bursting with different flavors. Platinum tried to stifle a giggle before letting out a raucous laugh. “No way! The rumors were true? You actually boil that stuff in your mouth?”

The Doctor feigned offense, satisfied that his joke broke the seriousness. “Hey now, those are just rumors. If I scalded my tongue, I wouldn’t be able to taste the noodles. I pour the water into a mug and let it simmer first, then I drink it. Makes for a great snack when you wake up early in the morning.”

“Haha. Oh, I can’t. You’re a weirdo. An absolute weirdo.” The Kuranta hunched over in a laughing fit. The Doctor gave her a gentle smile. He had hoped he could break her out of her cynical persona. It seemed like that was a major success.

“That’s most of the people here. Honestly, you should try striking up a conversation with random strangers. You never know what you’ll end up learning.”

“Oh, is that my next assignment? Get all friendly with the people here?”

“That’s up to you.” The Doctor replied with the exact same canned phrase. Platinum’s mood soured as she settled down. Did he really think it would be that easy? After everything she and the Armorless Union did?

“Come on now, you honestly think it’s all water under the bridge? Just a few days ago, that pink-haired campaign knight looked like she wanted to kill me when we passed each other in the hallway.”

“Probably not for the reason you think.” The Doctor thought to himself. He’d rather deal with that landmine today, though.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Quit bullshitting me. We tried to kill you. I tried to kill you. And here we are, alone in your room. What would you do if I tried again?”

“You have no reason to.” The Doctor grinned confidently. Platinum felt chills run up her spine. It was just like back in Kazimierz. The man stared down a drawn bow and talked to her like he would a friend. And now he was doing the same.

“B-but, hypothetically, if I received orders to do so, then what would you do?”

“Why would you obey them?” Those words stopped the Kuranta’s mind. The assassin tried to stutter out a response, but eventually just sighed in defeat. She was technically a deserter, and Rhodes was way too strong to attack, even for the Darksteels. She didn’t have to follow orders anymore, no matter what her gut said.

“Besides,” the Doctor reassured her, “you aren’t the first former enemy we’ve taken aboard.”

He opened another drawer and pulled out a plastic box, lightly shaking the contents inside. To Platinum’s eyes, it was clearly some kind of candy. Although she had no idea why he kept it stored like that. “Ever heard of Reunion before?”

“Some sort of terrorist group, right? Remember they made headlines a few months back, then everyone got distracted with whatever celebrity controversy popped up.”

The Doctor nodded. “An infected terrorist group, one we came to blows with. To keep it brief, let’s just say they hurt us more than your Armorless Union colleagues ever did. And still, after everything, we’ve let at least four join our ranks. With more everyday as we find stragglers and remnants.”

“Are you serious, four of them are here right now?” Platinum’s eyes widened at the revelation. When she came aboard, she had to go through a battery of interrogations before they even let her out of her room. She had endured some grueling debriefs before, but the people at Rhodes struck terror into her like nothing else. She couldn’t imagine what former insurgents had to go through.

“Yeah. W. Ethan. Mudrock. And…” The Doctor had a mournful look on his face as he stared at the candy. A mournful look so powerful that even Platinum felt her heart sink as well. “And Yelena.”

The Doctor sighed as he put the case back into its resting spot. “What I’m trying to say is, we’re willing to look past quite a bit. So it wouldn’t hurt you to at least try to get to know people. People here are generally more focused on tomorrow than anything else. Well, that’s something you can do later. We’re burning daylight in my room, so we should get a move on.”

---

“Just so you know, I left with just the clothes on my back.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t plan on staying here past my little vacation.”

“I know.”

“And it’s not like I have much money anyways.”

“I know.” The amused Doctor replied. From the way her tail swayed anxiously, she was probably insecure about how barren her room was. He couldn’t blame her, her onboarding was far more touch and go compared to normal. Not to mention how little pay she got given her constant requests for time off. The Doctor could clearly recall how HR was baffled by how quickly she burned through her vacation days. And then requested even more leave after that. He wondered how she spent her time if she didn’t have that many personal amenities.

The white-haired Kuranta stood in front of her door, shifting her weight from one foot to another. The Doctor tilted his head as she idled just outside her room. She took a deep breath before inviting him in.

“I know it’s not much.” Platinum muttered into her collar. As the Doctor surveyed the room, she followed every twitch of his eyes. Once again, his inscrutable nature drove her crazy. She couldn’t tell it he had positive or negative opinion of what he saw. His focus landed on a birch guitar propped up near her closet.

“I didn’t know you could play guitar.”

“Used to like it when I was younger. Then, well, everything happened. Just so you know, I haven’t seriously played anything in years, so don’t expect me to be good at it.” Platinum blurted out. The sniper hadn’t really played it that much since she got it, too busy being lazy to put in the effort. She really wished she had practiced more since she got here. Maybe then, she would feel brave enough to play a song for him.

“That’s commendable. It’s never too late to pick up a hobby again. When you get a bit more practice, maybe you could play something for me.” Platinum perked up at his comment, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“M-maybe.” This guy. How could he swing between weird and smooth so quickly? The Doctor glanced over at a shopping bag full of cosmetics. He scrunched his face as he ran calculations in his head.

“What? A girl’s gotta look good.” Platinum said defensively as she flicked her hair.

“Have you tried talking to Perfumer or Podenco in the Convalescence Garden? Or Roberta and Goldenglow in the commons?” Platinum shook her head.

“You should hit them up, they’ll probably be able to give you similar products for much cheaper. Or in the case of Podenco, she’ll probably make something custom for you, no charge. That’ll free up your money concerns.”

“Oh, and what do you suggest I do with all that spare change?”

“That’s up to you.” The Doctor shrugged again. Platinum, however, gritted her teeth in irritation. She stormed up to him and jabbed a finger into his chest. The Doctor was unfazed by her sudden aggression.

“Oi, that phrase of yours is really grating on me. You trying to brush me off?”

“I’m not, Centaurea.” The Doctor stated matter-of-factly. The casual mention of her real name gave her pause as she felt her heart beat faster. “You’re not some pawn anymore. Even if you’re a Rhodes Island employee now, our company is fairly lenient in what their employees choose to do. Your countless requests for time off being granted is proof of that. Whether you genuinely believe in our mission or are simply here out of convenience. Whether you want to socialize with others or not. What you want to spend your salary on. What you want to do in the future. While you’re here, those are all things you get to decide on your own. Hence, it’s all up to you.”

Platinum sighed. Ever since she graduated from school, her life had been micromanaged to hell and back. The mere idea of being able to decide anything herself was something that she hadn’t thought about in a long time. “Alright, you win again. I’m sorry.” She figured the Doctor would start bragging or at least flash a cocky grin, but instead he was waiting patiently for her to calm down.

She fidgeted around, looking away from him. “Say, what would you like to call me? Platinum or Centaurea?”

“Which one do you prefer?”

She scoffed. Damn this guy, constantly punting the ball back into her court. Did it matter to her? Centaurea. Platinum. Which one was she? Which one should she be? Were they even different in the first place? Should they be different?

“Let’s go with Platinum for now.” The Doctor nodded warmly as Platinum stared out the window. Centaurea. She played the sound of the Doctor’s voice back in her head. How long had it been since someone called her that? She was getting all nostalgic again. Your eyes will bring honor to our family. Those words taunted her, stabbing her gut like a poisoned dagger.

“Say, Doctor,” she asked in a world-weary voice, “what do you think honor is?”

“Honor, huh? That’s hard to define.” Platinum could hear footsteps as the Doctor paced her room. “Ask a hundred people, you’ll get two hundred answers. I can certainly describe actions as being honorable or dishonorable. But when pressed for a definition, it’s hard to put into words.”

The Doctor stopped for a moment as he considered what to say. “The best I can give is – honor is the worthiness of action or character. If you want me to define worthiness, I’d say it would be whether what you did or who you are makes a situation better. At least that’s how it is for me.”

“Oh. I see.” Platinum slid her hand down the window, her ears drooping down. By that definition, she must be the most dishonorable person imaginable. Not that she had any doubt, of course.

“I think you’ve done plenty of honorable things.” Platinum’s ears shot straight up again, although she didn’t turn to face him. “That last mission you went on, you were the one that took out that bombtail drone before it could launch its payload. You saved a lot of people from having to go to the ICU doing that.”

“You were reckless, gambling on me being able to pull off lucky shot like that.” Platinum countered bitterly. The Doctor was probably just trying to make her feel better.

“I don’t rely on luck. I trusted you because I knew you could do it. The way I see it, your talents have earned you honor already.”

While the former assassin didn’t move, the Doctor could see a faint smile on her reflection. A stray thought entered her head, one that she hadn’t had in years. Maybe…it was time to write home again. But, at the same time, would that put her parents in danger? If she asked the Doctor again, he would probably just give her the same canned phrase he usually did, but there wasn’t any harm in trying.

“Hey, Doctor, can I get some advice on something? I’m thinking about writing to mom and dad, but it’s been years since I’ve done so.”

“Because of the Armorless Union thing?” Platinum nodded sadly. She couldn’t tell her parents, even if the KGCC wasn’t breathing down her neck constantly. How could she? Your daughter got recruited by the secret police that no one likes. Your daughter made her living killing defenseless people. Sure, some of them had it coming, but others… That wasn’t going to go over well.

The Doctor brought a hand up to his chin as he deliberated to himself. “Rhodes’ work means we’re pretty close with most messenger groups. We can probably find one that can deliver things discretely. Of course, if you’re still concerned, we could also wait until the heat dies down in Kazimierz first. Have you thought about what you want to tell them?”

“No. I mean, what could I say?”

“Why don’t you just say you worked odd jobs until you landed a nice security position at a pharmaceutical company?”

Platinum turned around and looked at the Doctor, arms crossed. “That’s not exactly the most glamorous thing in the world.”

“Sure, it’s certainly not celebrity status, but can you think of any society where apothecary work isn’t respected? Saying you guard traveling doctors isn’t exactly something people sneer at. More importantly, I’m sure your parents are more concerned about whether or not you’re alive. By now, news of what happened during the Major has probably spread, so they’re probably worried that you might be hurt. It wouldn’t kill you if you can at least reassure them that you’re okay.”

“Oh.” The Kuranta lowered her head in shame. She had been so focused on forgetting everything work-related that she hadn’t even thought about that. After not talking to her parents for years, they were probably just hoping their daughter was alright more than anything else. She wanted to punch herself. More than usual, at least. “In that case, I should start trying to write something. Um. Would you mind helping me brainstorm? Maybe proofread it as well?”

The Doctor nodded as he put his hand on her shoulder. “I’d be happy to. But why don’t you take a rest, first. It’s getting late, and you’ll be able to write better when you’ve given it a little more thought.”

“Alright. One last thing, actually. Where did I put that amp?” Platinum picked up her guitar and sat on her bed, plucking the strings a few times to warm up. “Call it spur of the moment, but would you like to hear a song?”

“Sure.” The Doctor sat on a chair and focused on the white-haired girl.

“Just so you know, I’m still pretty rusty at this.” She preemptively warned him. As she started, she already hit a few wrong chords here and there, but gritted her teeth and persevered. Within moments, she hit her stride and the old song flowed back into her flawlessly. The song was so old-fashioned compared to the modern styles she had become accustomed to, but not in a bad way. Hearing it again was nostalgic. The girl closed her eyes as she let the melody wash over her. Memories of her days before she left home flashed in her head. She didn’t realize it, but she had a wistful smile on her face.

“She looks far livelier like this.” The Doctor thought to himself. Platinum normally had a look of dead stoicism about her, a facade probably built from her days in the Armorless Union. At the very least, he had managed to chip away at some of it. “Better days are coming, Centaurea. For you and all the others from Kazimierz. All of us will make sure of that.”

---

Subject: Why Don’t We Schedule Some Time For Ourselves

From: Gravel

To: Doctor

Doctor,

While I had a great time with the new program Amiya concocted, I was sooooo sad I couldn’t be paired up with you. Why don’t we do our own room exchange, huh? There’s nothing that says we can’t. Come on, give it some thought alright <3

Senomy

---

Subject: Any Practice Room Vacancies?

From: Platinum

To: Vigna, Courier

Yo,

I recently picked up guitar again. Anyways, I ended up getting a couple of noise complaints when I was jamming in my room. I was wondering if there were any practice rooms open for walk ins. Still not good enough to play to an audience, so I was hoping to brush up on my own first. Not a big priority, feel free to answer whenever.

Platinum

---

Subject: What in the World?

From: Flametail

To: Doctor, Amiya

Hey,

The Pinus Sylvestris crew have been getting settled in and all, and then all of a sudden that Armorless Union girl started showing up a day or two ago. We thought she had some sort of grudge against us, but then she started helping us with stuff like organizing deliveries for the Kazimierz branch or reorganizing the requisition form to make it easier for Logistics. Not without lecturing us the whole time to not make it harder for the middlemen, of course. It’s certainly not unwelcome, Miss Middle Manager has made our work go way smoother, but it’s still crazy.

Is she being punished for something? Did you two put her up to this? We have no intention of being friendly with her, but we aren’t gonna start something if she doesn’t. Not while we’re guests in someone else’s house at least. Even Maria was dumbfounded when we told her. Ah well, so long as she doesn’t stir up trouble, she’s welcome to do whatever. Just thought I’d let you guys know our thoughts on things.

Sona

---

Chapter Text

“Yo, this room is the cutest ever.” Utage exclaimed as she spun around Suzuran’s bedroom. Stuffed animals neatly arranged in a line on her clean bed, poetry books organized perfectly on a bookshelf with spines parallel to each other. The only thing that seemed out of place was a little rock doll, placed inside a globe on her desk. “My old room back home has nothing on this. Seems I gotta ramp up my girl game.”

Suzuran blushed and giggled at the sudden praise. “Please, you’re girlish enough already, Utage. You always give me suggestions on what to wear.”

Blaze purred happily as she hugged the young Vulpo from behind, ruffling the girl’s hair. “How are you this adorable?”

Despite being their first stop, most of the day was spent fawning over Suzuran in her room.

---

Cardigan slapped a bobsled, almost knocking it over before Meteor caught it. “My family shipped this to me a while back. I tried to sweet talk Dobermann into using it in the training rooms, but she wouldn’t budge. Ah well, maybe I’ll get to use it whenever we go somewhere snowy.”

“Oh? Sounds like fun. Hopefully you’ll show us the ropes when the time comes.” Meteor replied as she leaned her head on a hand.

“Will do!” The Perro shouted as she sat on her bed and bounced up and down. “I love the beds here. They’re so comfy.”

“Indeed.” The Kuranta put a finger to her lips before winking. “Don’t tell anyone, but I also love setting up a tent in the Convalescent Garden and taking a nap there. You should try it sometime, it’s quite relaxing.”

The two paused their conversation as they turned to Gravel, the Zalak staring glumly at nothing.

“Oh dear, we didn’t intend to exclude you, Gravel.” Meteor moved a little closer to the specialist. “If there’s anything you wanted to say or do, let us know.”

“Don’t worry.” Gravel gave them a sad smile. “It’s just that all this talk is making me homesick.”

“Ah, you from Kazimierz as well, no? Which part?”

“That’s the problem. I’m not sure.”

“Ah.” Meteor reached out to pat the Zalak on the head, giving her a reassuring smile. “In that case, why don’t I try to help out? Even now, I remember the forests of Kazimierz like the back of my hands. I’m sure I can narrow down the search.”

“I’m trained in search-and-rescue!” Cardigan chimed in as she dashed to Gravel’s other side. “I’m not as familiar with Kazimierz, but I can try if you want.”

The pink-haired girl giggled and wiped the corners of her eyes. “Thank you, you two. But let’s do that another time. I still have to show off my room, right?” As they walked through the halls, her ears twitched happily. While the Doctor had shown her appreciation she never experienced before, she didn’t expect a similar attitude from everyone else at Rhodes Island. Maybe it was a good idea to come here.

---

“Ehehe. Your collection of things is quite…diverse.” Grani struggled to find the right words to describe what she saw. She knew some people took to collecting stamps or flowers or bugs as a hobby, but there didn’t seem to be a central idea to any of the things piled up in Kafka’s room. A couple of bottle caps from different brands, what looked to be some candid photos taken at bizarre angles. There was even a bonsai tree with a paring knife jammed into the soil.

“Ey, I just pick up anythin’ that looks cool.” Kafka smugly grinned as she rocked her legs back and forth on her bed. “Ain’t got time for that thematic stuff. Now if only Silence would quit scolding me like she’s my mom.”

“Um…” Melantha held a pack of scented candles in her hands, desperately looking for a place to put it. It was easy enough to just set some on Grani’s desk. But Kafka’s seemed too crowded, and the Feline didn’t want her gift to fall. As she fidgeted around, Kafka swiped them from her hands.

“Here, lemme find a place for them. Mhm. These smell great, gotta make use of ‘em when I bathe. Oh, I should put them in the bathroom!”

“Huh?! I–“ Melantha was reeling from how quickly the conversation had progressed. She felt Grani’s hands on her shoulders.

“No need to be so formal.” Grani said softly. “We’re hanging out, not attending a party.”

“Yup! Make yourself at home. Rich, poor? Wolf, horse, bird? It don’t matter in the Kafka’s house! ‘Cept dicks and pervs, they can get out.” The jackdaw exclaimed from the bathroom. Melantha sighed and smiled shyly.

---

“This pair of boots would go great with your outfit.” Angelina showed a fashion magazine to Rope as the two sat on the messenger’s bed.

“You think so? Pricy, though. Maybe I’ll wait until I absolutely need new shoes.”

“In my experience, you should always have a spare pair of shoes ready. Unless you really feel like hiking through a rainstorm with holey shoes.”

Rope shot her a sympathetic look. “Personal experience, huh? Alright, I’ll try and save up some money then. They do look good.”

“If you need extra money, let me know. There’s no shortage of work for me.”

“Trying to offload some of your work onto poor old me?” Angelina just winked at her. The bunny leaned back, only to feel the poke of something metallic in her back pocket. She fished out what looked like a keychain with an acrylic figure of sorts. Some sort of cartoon character or celebrity? She couldn’t tell.

“That isn’t yours?” Rope looked concerned as she shook her head. Where did she steal this from? She was getting better at fighting off her kleptomania, but it still happened unconsciously every now and again. Someone would get too close and her hands just moved on their own.

“Man, what a bummer.” The Cautus sighed as she swung the keychain around. “We gotta put this party on hold till I find this thing’s owner.”

“Let me go with you, then!” Angelina leaned in closer to inspect the keychain. “I’m used to dealing with misplaced packages. Let’s see, ah! This might belong to someone I know in Logistics. Let’s go there and see if they’re still around. If not, I know who we can leave it with.”

“Logistics? What a pain, that’s all the way on the other side of the ship.” Rope eyed her harpoon resting next to Angelina’s staff, grinning slyly all the time. “Unless…”

As the brown-haired girl followed her friend’s gaze, a plan was starting to form in her mind as well. “Thinking of taking a joyride? Well, I certainly don’t have much experience flying for two but it should be fine if you can keep us attached to something. It’ll be like bungee jumping.”

---

Greyy watched in amazement as lights danced on the ceiling, illuminated by an Arts Unit channeled by Amiya. The way beads of light flickered reminded him of a swarm of fireflies.

“Wow. I didn’t realize something like that was possible.” A part of him felt a little embarrassed. The Cautus had picked up his staff for the first time and had managed to do something he never could. “It seems I still have a lot to learn.”

Amiya turned her head and smiled gently. “We all do. Arts are aptly named. They are a way to crystallize our thoughts and feelings. Learning more and more techniques, more and more styles. There are still many things I still have to learn myself.”

Greyy nodded in agreement. Once, while volunteering in the pediatrics division, he was lucky enough to witness one of Shining’s light shows. While Amiya’s manipulation could construct a kaleidoscope, Shining could singlehandedly perform entire shadowpuppet shows. All without ever moving a muscle. One day, he'll be able to do that, for all that need a little happiness in their life.

---

Phase Two Groupings

FEater-Ifrit-Meteorite

Frostleaf-Cliffheart-Ambriel

Specter-Mudrock

Blue Poison-Jessica

Blemishine-Eunectes

Vermeil-Vigna

Schwarz-Doctor

Weedy-Ceylon

Executor-Exusiai

---

The Doctor slammed his head into his desk. Followed shortly by his fists. Amiya tried in vain to stop him, jumping back as he let out a howl of pure anxiety. He took heaving breaths before speaking.

“So. Ifrit.”

The Cautus nodded cautiously.

“Who suggested this?”

“Doctor Olivia. She said that socializing would be good for Ifrit’s mental health.”

“Of course.” He sighed again. That was another long email he would have to write for Meteorite and FEater. “And now Specter.”

“She actually applied herself. After returning from Iberia, it seems whatever malady was plaguing her has been cured. Isn’t that great, Doctor?”

“Believe me, I know. Her personality’s still eccentric, though. Haah. Hopefully Mudrock can keep up with her.”

The Doctor stared at the list again. Jessica would probably need reassurances, given the rumors circulating about Blue Poison. He still wasn’t sure how Vermeil or Executor made the cut, nor who managed to convince either of them to sign up. Ceylon needed to know about Weedy’s germophobia. The list of things went on and on. With a weary sigh, the Doctor leaned into his laptop and began typing.

---

Chapter Text

---

“Yo, these posters are rad!” Ifrit exclaimed as she bounced excitedly between the posters lining FEater’s wall. Meteorite breathed a sigh of relief. The young caster had been bellyaching since the trio met, complaining that Silence had forced her to join. Letting FEater take point was the right decision.

“Aren’t they?” The former movie star gave Ifrit a wink before pointing to one poster in particular. On it was the woman facing a sunset in the background. To the edges were countless other actors, but it was clear FEater was the centerpiece. “I really like this one. Makes me look like a total badass. Boy, that movie was hell to shoot, though. Director kept making us do the same fights over and over again until we got it perfectly. Guy didn’t want any cuts either, so we had to take the hits for real.”

“I think I saw that movie before. Must have been rough filming it all in one go.” Meteorite commented.

“Oh, so you do know me. Want an autograph?”

Meteorite frowned and shook her head dismissively. “Not especially. That movie was fairly popular when I was working in Columbia. I happened to catch part of it during down time. How many movies have you worked on anyways?”

The former star put a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Tons. If you want me to write my full list, it’d probably be as thick as a textbook. How about you, Miss Merc?”

“Probably the same, if you want me to count every job I ever took.”

“Boring!” Ifrit whined out as she pouted. “Why do adults always gotta talk about such boring stuff. Hey, Miss FEater, think you can teach me some fighting techniques?”

“You wish to become a student of the Tie Yi Liu He Quan?” The panda asked mischievously as she slammed a fist into her palm. “I’ll have you know, the road to mastery is a difficult one. But don’t worry. Given enough time and effort on your part, I’m sure you’ll be able to master all Five Elements, Eight Strikes, and Twelve Forms just like I did.”

“Guh. Never mind. I’ll just stick to burning things. How about just teaching me a cool move or pose or something like that?”

“Hmm…I guess that can be arranged. Later though, in a more open space.” The specialist slapped the sniper on the back, causing the Sarkaz to flinch. “Miss Meteorite, has something caught your eye?”

Meteorite. had been glancing at the crates of fireworks stashed away in the corner of the panda’s room. Operators taking equipment back to their personal lodgings was a common practice. even though HR forbid them from doing so, many were hesitant to leave their weapons out of reach. Even she was guilty of keeping a few explosive bolts hidden in her room. But she had never heard of anyone keeping recreational pyrotechnics. And a massive amount at that.

“Oh, these?” FEater teasingly replied as she picked up a cord of red firecrackers and dangled it around. “Just something I asked a friend to get me. You know, for the Lunar New Year.”

Ifrit’s eyes lit up. Fireworks sated the pyromaniac side of her, especially since no one got hurt when they blew up. It may have been the only thing she and the dumb blimp with horns agreed on. Before she could ask to light some of them up, the caster’s face scrunched up. When was the Lunar New Year? Wait, how was Lunar New Year different from a normal new year? The young caster felt her head heat up in confusion.

“Ifrit, is something the matter?” Meteorite stared at the caster clutching her head. The air around her became hazy as the room warmed up. The Doctor had said that she was volatile, but Meteorite couldn’t think of anything they did that would set her off.

“When’s the new year?” Meteorite raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“The first of January.”

“No.” Ifrit scowled. “I mean, the other new year. Like, the one they celebrate in Lungmen.”

“That one? Well, it fluctuates a little, but I think it’s…Um.” FEater scrunched her face before shrugging. “I actually forgot. Let me just check real quick.”

“Fluck-choo-ates?” Ifrit sounded out the new word.

“It means the celebration changes dates. Usually by a week or two if I remember correctly.” Meteorite explained.

“Huh? How does that work. Why do they need to do that?”

“Lungmen traditionally used a lunisolar calendar, so it doesn’t always line up with the solar calendar we use.”

“Huh?” Ifrit stared at Meteorite in complete confusion. Lunisolar? Solar was something related to shoes, right? “What does a calendar have to do with feet?”

Meteorite let out a maternal giggle. She had a good guess what Ifrit’s train of thought was. It looked like Silence wasn’t wrong. Beneath the harsh exterior was a naive young girl. And knowing Ifrit, she probably wanted an explanation now rather than later.

After a brief lesson on calendars, Ifrit nodded sagely. “Alright, I think I get it now. Man, I can’t wait to tell Silence when all this is over. She’ll be so shocked when she hears what I know.”

“I’m sure she will.” As Meteorite smiled, FEater finally rejoined the two.

“Hey, sorry it took so long. I got the date, but then I got sidetracked by this.” The specialist held out a magazine. On it was another image of her, sitting next to a table filled with food. “I remembered doing a shoot and then I just started feeling the craving to eat this stuff again. The food they gave me back then was unreal. You really ought to try it at some point.”

Meteorite frowned as she looked at the photo. A lot of the food had too much red in them for her tastes. “How spicy was all of this?”

“Plenty. Yan loves its chili. Why, not good with spice?”

“I can handle some spice. But I never really enjoyed it for the flavor.”

“You’re missing out, you wimp.” Ifrit blew a raspberry. “Spicy food’s the best.”

“To each their own.”

“Quite. How about it Miss Meteorite? Wanna join me for a New Year’s party later? We can eat all the spicy food in the world while watching the fireworks.”

Meteorite winced before smiling sadly. “Sorry. I’ll sit it out. I’m not really good with fireworks.”

“Why? Don’t you use something similar when you fight?” Ifrit asked innocently. “I’ve seen you use those bolts. The ones that go boom!”

FEater opened her mouth to scold the young caster, but Meteorite put a hand up.

“Because using explosives is work for me.” Meteorite explained gently as she deflected the question. “Imagine trying to relax by solving math problems. It’s not really fun, right?”

“Oh.” Ifrit smiled in realization. “When you put it that way, I get it. Hmm. In that case, why don’t we light some sparklers? You never use those when you fight.”

“Well, I have used flares before.” Meteorite muttered under her breath. “But alright. Sparklers should be fine.”

“Awesome! I’ll pen in the date.” FEater chimed in as she punched a note into her phone.

“Why later? Wouldn’t it be fun if we do it now?” Ifrit was bouncing up and down expectantly. The dumb voice in her head kept screaming to just set everything on fire right this instant. But she knew better, that would make FEater sad. And Silence and the Doctor would scold her until she went deaf. Still, maybe a little bit would shut the stupid thing up.

“No can do.” FEater crossed her arms in an X. “Gotta save these for the celebration, y’know. They’re important for driving out evil spirits.”

“Huh? Come on, you actually believe in that sort of stuff?” Ifrit laughed to herself. The caster felt like the panda was far too old to believe in silly stories like that. FEater had to be teasing her.

“No joke.” The martial artist raised her arms above her head and growled. “I’ve seen the monsters myself back in Yan. Angry dragons that storm the streets and make a mess of things come the new year. And then they scatter to the winds. Who knows, they might come to Rhodes one day too.”

“Isn’t that just Nian?” Meteorite dryly snarked. “Although her yearly destruction involves being a lazy freeloader more often than not.”

“Maybe.” FEater shrugged. “She is scared of loud noises. Boy, you should see her jump whenever something pops. Anyways, what were we talking about? Oh yeah! Sorry, Ifrit, you’ll have to be a little patient before we can light these bad boys.”

“Won’t know until I try.” The two operators looked confused when they saw Ifrit mumbling to herself. The caster scoffed and crossed her arms. “Just wait until Lunisolar New Year’s, bub, I’ll have you exercised in no time. Oh hey, did you gals need something?”

FEater blinked a few times in confusion. Glancing over to Meteorite, all the sniper could do was shrug in confusion. “N-now then, we’ve spent enough time here. Who wants to show off their room next, hmm?”

Ifrit raised her hand straight up. “Me obviously! I even cleaned it all by myself. Didn’t even need Silence or Ptilopsis to help me.”

As Ifrit proudly marched her way through the halls, her two older compatriots tailed behind her.

“Hey, sorry about bringing up the fireworks.” FEater whispered.

“It’s alright. I was the one staring at them. And you had no way of knowing.”

“Why’d you go gentle on Ifrit, though?”

“The Doctor told me a little about her. How she’s had a…harsh childhood to say the least. I could have related my trauma with hers, but it seemed too cruel to bring it up. Especially for what should be a happy time for her.”

The panda pat her friend on the back and giggled. “Aren’t you a mother hen?”

“Oi, why do you lot always gotta whisper behind my back?” Ifrit pouted as she put her hands on her hips. “If you’ve got time to babble, you’ve got time to move.”

---

The young caster let out an imperious laugh as she stomped into her room. Her two friends let out a chuckle as they surveyed their surroundings. Ifrit was a known problem child aboard the landship, with a pyromaniac streak to boot. Thus, the fact that she had a room that was so…normal was unexpected. A bit messy, to be sure, with candy wrappers and crumpled worksheets strewn about. But it seemed exactly like an ordinary youth’s room.

Her bed sheets were neat and wrinkle-less, but uneven. One corner of her bed was completely uncovered while her sheets were spilling over another onto the floor. Her homework was sloppily stacked into a pile on her desk and seemed ready to fall over at the slightest disturbance. A picture was framed on her desk. FEater recognized some of the people in it. There was Doctor Silence, Mayer, and a couple of others.

“Come on, there’s so much awesome stuff you could be looking at and you chose that stupid thing?” Ifrit whined.

“If it’s stupid, why is it so shiny and clean then?” FEater giggled teasingly as she glanced at Ifrit.

Ifrit crossed her arms as she plopped onto her bed, wrinkling her carefully arranged sheets. “Silence would scold me if I let it get dirty.”

“If you say so.” Meteorite muttered offhandedly. At a glance, it was pretty easy to see what the younger Sarkaz thought of certain things. Thanks to her volatile abilities, her heart was practically on her sleeve. Even if her mouth said otherwise. The picture and the frame holding it were pristine. In contrast, the homework she had lazily piled had burn marks galore. The Sarkaz picked up a sheet at random. From what little ink she could make out, it was supposed to be a grammar assignment. Although it was hard to tell, given Ifrit had decided to turn it into an art project with how many black and brown spots dotted the page.

Suddenly, Ifrit snatched the paper from Meteorite’s hand. Crumpling it into a ball, the caster chucked it into a garbage can. A garbage can that was already filled to the brim with wadded up worksheets. Ones that seemed even more burnt than the one she just threw in. “Come on, can’t you people focus on anything else. That homework’s a drag to even look at.”

“I getcha on that one.” FEater replied with a bright grin. “All the stuff they assign is just pointless busywork after a while.”

“I know, right!” Ifrit was still annoyed, but also seemed more crestfallen. “Not to mention the stares of the other kids. I can’t take it sometimes. I thought being older than them would shut them up, but somehow it just makes it worse when they do better than me.”

“If you want, I can try to get you into the adult class instead.” Meteorite chimed in. Ifrit once again looked at her in confusion. “Many adults never had the opportunity for education, so Rhodes offers basic services to its employees and patients. They should be covering the same material as you.”

“Hah! Some of them are probably ashamed that they’re worse at learning than the kids.” FEater joked. “Although I’m probably one of them if I had to join.”

A tinge of sympathy crossed Ifrit’s face, before being covered up by her typical haughtiness. “Yeah, that’s probably right. I’ll stick to the kid’s class then, the grown ups would probably just scold me all the time. Hey! How did we end up talking about serious things again? I swear…”

The caster shooed her two comrades away from her desk before rummaging through her drawers. From the crinkling of plastic and the torn wrappers being tossed out, FEater and Meteorite guessed that Ifrit kept her snacks inside. And in a very disorganized fashion as well, given how much she was muttering under her breath. Eventually, she managed to find what she was looking for and shoved a small plastic box in her friends’ faces.

“How about it? I’m sharing some of my favorite snack with you, that oughta be more interesting than whatever bull we were discussing before.”

“Oh, are these dried peppers? Don’t mind if I do.” FEater plucked a single red sickle and dropped it into her mouth. A salty, burning sensation hit her tongue as she bit down on the seeds. “Not bad. They’ve got a kick to them. Salted too, huh?”

Ifrit childishly waved her snack in front of Meteorite. “Come on, don’t be a wimp.”

The Sarkaz let out a sigh as she pinched a small pepper. “If you insist.”

It wasn’t the hottest thing she ever had. She once downed an entire bottle of hot sauce as a dare, and this was nothing compared to that. But it was still hot enough to elicit a few coughs from her. She certainly wasn’t sweating because of it, but the way her breath burned with every exhale was getting irritating. She should have brought a canteen with her. Or anything else to wash it down. Ifrit was smiling like a gremlin, clearly amused by the woman’s discomfort.

“Excuse me for a second, I need to get something to drink.” When the sniper was out the door and well out of earshot, FEater and Ifrit had a shared laugh. After a minute, Meteorite reentered the room chugging a can of fruit juice. As she set it down on Ifrit’s desk, the pile of work had finally given up the ghost and tumbled to the floor. Ifrit seemed mildly peeved, but otherwise let all the work languish where it was.

“Oh, what’s this?” As FEater leaned down to pick up a book that caught her eye, Ifrit became unusually panicked. The caster tried to snatch up the book first, but found herself blocked by an unyielding arm. “Uh uh, you’ve got to respect your elders.”

“Screw you!” Ifrit shouted petulantly. The movie star fought off the increasingly heated caster as she looked at her prize.

“Hey! Make sure she doesn’t burn anything.” Meteorite cried out.

“It’s fine. It’s fine. If she wanted to burn this or me, she would’ve by now. Whatever it is, she must really like it. Let’s see…Huh?”

In the panda’s hand was some third-rate relationship advice magazine. In her utter bewilderment, FEater didn’t even notice when Ifrit snatched it out of her hands and frantically hid it under her pillow. The young caster sat on top of it and crossed her arms, glaring at the panda all the while. By the time FEater had processed what she just saw, a smug grin appeared on her lips.

“Oh my. Does darling little Ifrit have a crush on someone?”

Ifrit stuck out her tongue mockingly. “Blech! No way! Gross! Ptilopsis gave that to me when I asked her about something. Turns out she was just messing with me.”

“Oh, what did you ask her?” Meteorite took another sip of her drink.

Ifrit put her head in between her knees. “Um, how to get two people to make up.”

Meteorite choked on her drink. FEater on the other hand was laughing her head off.

“Wow, didn’t think that owl had it in her. Always so robotic and everything. And she gave you that stupid rag? We could probably give better advice than it. If you want, you can always ask us.”

Ifrit’s eyes lit up. “Really? Then, um…So, you know Silence, right?”

Her two friends nodded. “Okay, then do you know a woman named Saria?”

“Saria. I think so.” FEater answered as she sat on Ifrit’s bed as well. “We’ve sparred a few times after I’ve seen her fight on the field. Boy, she has a mean punch.”

“Yeah. She’s awesome. Too bad Silence doesn’t want me seeing her. It’s weird, they used to work together all the time when I was younger. Then, something really bad happened, and now Silence doesn’t want anything to do with her anymore.”

FEater and Meteorite shared a nervous glance. It felt like they were intruding on a relationship neither of them should know about. And Ifrit’s own immature view wasn’t giving good context either.

“W-well, do they actively try to ignore each other these days?” FEater asked nervously.

“I think so. Saria’s really busy. And always away doing stuff. Even when she stops by Medical, Silence is never around, so I don’t really know.”

“I see. I’m sure Saria has her own problems to deal with.” Meteorite put a hand on Ifrit’s shoulder. “And Silence is part of the medical team, so she’s probably got her hands full dealing with all the patients. It’s one of the downsides of being an adult.”

“Hmmph. In that case, I don’t wanna grow up. Seems like a pain.”

“Hey, it’s not too bad.” FEater winked, having regained some of her enthusiasm. “You get to stay up as late as you want. You get to eat whatever you want. Get to watch movies and play games whenever you want.”

Ifrit looked at the former actress skeptically. “Oh, then why is everyone working all the time?”

“Usually because something else is motivating them.” Meteorite answered. “Believe me, I’m sure everyone would like to goof off all the time, but there are things that you end up feeling responsible for when you’re grown up. In a few years, you might end up begging for more things to do. That’s why you volunteered for field duties in the first place, right?”

“Yeah right. I just signed up so I could set fire to things without people complaining all the time.”

“Heh. That’s what they all say at first.” FEater replied. “Anyways, there’s not much advice we can give you beyond letting them work it out themselves. Trust me, neither of them seem like bad people, so I’m sure they’ll kiss and make up. You just focus on being good to both of them, okay?”

Ifrit nodded happily. “Sure. Sure. I can do that. Miss Meteorite, let’s go to your room! Oh yeah, on the way, can I set fire to this stupid thing?”

The caster waved the magazine around, clearly deciding that it no longer had any use. The two adults looked at each other and nodded.

“It’s only a problem if we get caught.” FEater grinned slyly.

Meteorite sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Let’s burn it out a window. That way, we won’t set off the sprinklers.”

---

Packed. That was a good way of describing Meteorite’s room. But it wasn’t packed in the way most people would think of the word. No, most of her belongings were still literally half-packed. Her closet was barren, most of her clothing still folded inside luggage bags. Her personal effects, a few books and photos and letters, were peeking out of an olive green duffel bag. Even the weapons she kept inside were stowed away in black plastic cases under her bed.

“Going somewhere?” FEater asked casually. Meteorite shook her head.

“Just a bad habit. Mercenaries like me are used to having to leave at a moment’s notice. Putting everything away…still makes me a little uneasy.”

“Why would anyone ever leave when they have a room like this?” Ifrit’s voice echoed from the bathroom. The caster couldn’t believe her eyes. She thought that every dorm room on Rhodes only had showers. That was what she, Silence, and Ptilopsis all had. Meteorite, on the other hand, had a whole freaking bath to herself! “Who’d you butter up to get a room like this? Was it the Doctor?”

“No. And don’t go spreading rumors.” Meteorite glared at the girl for a moment, the tip of her ears reddened. Shaking her head, she sighed and took on a more gentle demeanor. “When you’ve fought as long as I have, you end up gaining tons of intel just doing your job. I gave everything I knew to Rhodes, and in turn they gave me this room.”

“Seriously?” FEater’s eyes sparked with materialistic greed as she put a hand to her chin. “Hmm…Which higher up cares about the Yan movie industry? I’m gonna sell out all the secrets I know if I get a bath. And a bigger bed. And maybe enough room for a private gym!”

Meteorite blinked in confusion. “I don’t think any of that information’s useful.”

“You don’t know that. I have info about which groups have ties to gangs and stuff. That’s gotta be worth a bathtub at least.”

“Rhodes Island is not the police.”

“Yeah, but they work with them sometimes.”

“And they work against them other times.”

As the two adults continued debating over the usefulness of inside information on media conglomerates, Ifrit decided to search through Meteorite’s belongings. If she left them out and about, that must mean she was okay with sharing them, right? A couple of boring letters from people. Most of them with handwriting sloppy enough to make Ifrit feel better about hers. Some photos and postcards from a bunch of places, she’d have to ask Meteorite for stories later.

One picture caught her attention, though. Some white coated jerk standing next to a bunch of crates. What really ticked the caster off though, was the Rhine Labs logo on the white coat’s arm.

“Oi, the hell is this?” Ifrit growled out. The air around her became charged as she glared at the photo in her hands.

“Calm down and let me see.” Meteorite commanded in a stern voice. The sniper mentally berated herself. She got so involved in the conversation that she completely ignored Ifrit. Of course the girl would get bored. She snatched the photo out of the caster’s hand, inspecting it for any burn marks. Thankfully, Ifrit managed to just barely control herself.

“This was around three years ago, I think, in Bolivar. A photojournalist gave it to me and the rest of my squad at the time. Said we were insurance if something went wrong with his report.”

“Insurance, for what?” FEater asked giddily. It wasn’t everyday she got to listen to a firsthand account of corporate espionage.

“Something that Rhine Labs was testing at the time. We just happened to be in the area for another job. I wasn’t privy to what exactly, but they were doing something related to battlefield Arts technology.”

“So what happened to the journalist who blabbed?” Ifrit asked.

“Nothing. He published an expose on how the Columbian military was illegally testing new Arts units in a foreign country in conjunction with Rhine Labs, then an unrelated politician’s scandal drowned out all news of it in the media.”

“Start a controversy to stop another. Classic.” FEater scoffed out of annoyed respect. “Real popular in showbiz as well.”

Ifrit raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Doesn’t sound like the white coats I know. Usually they’d run around like headless chickens if anyone told them something leaked. Always trying to point fingers at each other like a bunch of wimps.”

“Still,” Ifrit continued as she watched Meteorite put the photo away, “poking their noses where it doesn’t belong sounds like typical doctor behavior.”

“Oh, like our Doctor?” FEater asked. Ifrit chuckled.

“Nah, he’s alright as far as labcoats go. At least when he’s nosy, it’s because he actually cares about you.”

The young caster shoved a stack of postcards and photos she had collected while her two friends were talking. “Anyways, Miss Meteorite, you’ve been to a lot of places. Can you tell me a little about them?”

“Ah ah ah.” FEater put up a finger and smirked. “You have to say the magic word first.”

“Huh? What magic word? Do soldiers have some secret codeword they have to use. Hmm.”

Ifrit began rattling off whatever words came to mind. Mostly from whatever comic books she had read recently. Or had heard from other operators. Meteorite simply sighed as she patiently stared at the youth getting more and more agitated.

“She meant you should add ‘please’ to your request.” The sniper bluntly stated.

“That’s it?!” Ifrit grumbled angrily as she rolled her eyes. “Why do people always make such a big deal over one word? Fine. Could you please tell me about all the places you’ve been?”

“I would’ve done so anyways, had FEater not made a scene.” She stared at the first thing Ifrit held in front of her. A postcard from Sami with its endless hills of snow. She was there on a routine contract escorting Catastrophe messengers. The mission had taken a perilous turn due to the appearance of a freak blizzard. Her squad decided to hunker in the alcoves of a nearby cliff, only to find that a rival outfit had thought the same. To everyone’s surprise, the two groups decided to maintain a ceasefire for the duration of the snowstorm.

“Should’ve had me there. I would’ve melted all that ice in an instant.”

“You sure? I don’t think your arts are that powerful.”

“Just you wait, panda. When the time’s right, the Doctor will let me loose for once. No more holding back so I don’t melt my teammates.”

As the caster continued bragging about her alleged abilities, Meteorite nostalgically flipped through the mementos in her hand. Goodness, she had traveled far and wide. And working with Rhodes, she had traveled even more. She froze as she landed on one photo in particular. One with a red leaf taped to it.

“Oh, what’s this? There’s someone I recognize, I think.” FEater clambered to look over Meteorite’s shoulder. There was a group, posing in front of an autumn forest. There was Meteorite, looking like she normally did. And another. An Elafia FEater had seen on Rhodes Island before. Except, the girl in the photo seemed far happier. Dirtier and a bit slimmer in the photo, for sure, but with much more life than the girl she normally saw. “Is that…Firewatch?”

Meteorite nodded somberly. “Her name. It comes from the group we were both in. She’s the only one still alive.”

“Woah, seriously? Then, why do you leave her alone? If you both went through that, shouldn’t you two hang out more?”

“Maybe it’s something like what happened between Saria and Silence?” Ifrit said innocently. Meteorite blushed slightly before clearing her throat.

“I don’t think our bond ran that deep. People grow apart. The tragedy that happened there was just one of many for me. For her, it was her whole life burnt away. We have our own battles now, and they aren’t always the same. We fight for different causes these days.”

“Oh.” Ifrit looked downcast. “But, do you think you would ever be friends again?”

The Sarkaz looked down as she thought. There was always some tension in the air whenever they crossed paths now. A thought lingering on their mind. Was Meteorite responsible? They both knew the answer was no, the Doctor had told the mercenary Firewatch’s thoughts already. But they still never once tried to talk to each other.

“I suppose so. There’s nothing stopping us. Our meeting back then was one of circumstance. When that circumstance changed, we had nothing connecting us. If circumstances change in the future, I would not be…unwilling to reconnect.”

“Yeesh. Adults always gotta act like everything’s a soap opera, huh? FEater playfully pat Ifrit’s head. “But she’s not wrong. Just keep living life and sometimes, the opportunity you’ve been waiting for will hit you in the face.”

The panda hopped up to her feet and pointed a thumb to the door. “There’s still some time before dinner, so why don’t we watch a movie? If it’s one of mine, I’ll even teach you two a few moves.”

“Hell yeah. Just don’t tell Silence, okay? She grounds me if I fight without her approval.” Meteorite laughed silently to herself as she pat Ifrit on the head reassuringly.

---

Subject: Re: On Ifrit

From: Saria

To: Doctor, Amiya

Hello,

I am glad that Ifrit managed to remain well behaved during her time with Meteorite and FEater. Based on my own conversation with the two of them, it seems she is quite susceptible to being goaded on. Perhaps some lessons on peer pressure are in order. Nonetheless, this has been a good learning experience for her. Instilling a sense of morality and camaraderie into Ifrit is vital if she ever wants to properly control her powers. The last time I ran across her, she even told me all about how to use the moon to count days. I had to correct her multiple times, so hopefully she will give the correct information when she talks about it to Silence and Ptilopsis.

Also, I would politely request that Doctor Moore refrain from giving joke answers when asked for advice. Her monotone delivery often makes it hard for people to distinguish between genuine answers and sarcastic ones. Doctor Silence made a good decision to have Ifrit join the program. The added socialization will do wonders for her stability, so I recommend continuing.

Saria

---

The two stood there in the hallway, bathed by the setting sun shining from a nearby window. Once upon a time, they greeted each other anytime they crossed paths. But now they were simply familiar strangers. What could they say to each other? There certainly wasn’t anything that needed to be said.

“Hey.” Meteorite uttered suddenly.

Firewatch gave curt nod. “Hey.”

Again the two returned to silence, staring blankly at each other. The duo stood as still as statues while others briskly walked past them. Meteorite couldn’t think of anything keeping her there, but there she stood. In time, the Sarkaz simply sighed and gave her old friend a small smile.

“Do you still play harmonica?” The question just spontaneously came to her. The Elafia nodded tersely.

“That’s good. Haah. I hope you find who you’re looking for. But more importantly, stay alive, ok? If only so someone besides me will remember the others.”

A flicker of life returned to Firewatch’s eye. “If I can.”

The two parted ways, continuing onwards as if the meeting had never happened. Meteorite certainly didn’t have the right to judge Firewatch’s life, but she sure hoped the girl would take her advice to heart.

---

Chapter Text

“You know what’s really annoying?” Specter said playfully as she swung her legs back and forth on her bed. “How loud all this machinery is.”

Mudrock grunted in confusion as the drone of an air conditioner and humidifier quietly roared in Specter’s bedroom. From the Sarkaz’s experience, the units Specter had were generally more silent than normal. Just how high were her standards?

“I mean, I’d take being comfy over having peace and quiet, but it’d be real nice if you landfolk could invent something that could do both.”

Mudrock tilted her head to the side. “If that’s the case, why don’t you give the Engineering department a try?”

The shark-woman flashed a toothy smile and waved her hand dismissively. “Believe me, you’re seeing the end results of their efforts. Unfortunately, I’m not that well-versed in engineering. Swordfish probably knows, but she’s all doom and gloom these days. Doesn’t wanna meddle with landfolks much. And getting lectured by her about ‘frivolous desires’ sounds awful.”

“Swordfish?”

“You lot probably call her Gladiia.”

“I see. I’ve seen her a few times, but she seems closed off to everyone but the Doctor and Kal’tsit.”

Specter pulled her head back and let out a hearty laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like Swordfish. Orca’s the same way. Until she signed up for this thing at least. But enough about them. Let’s talk about me.”

Laurentina playfully bounced up and down on her bed a few times. “At least the beds here are decent. I was real glad I got to chuck the old one out. I would’ve smashed it into dust, but Medical kept complaining about how they wanted to reuse it.” Her face darkened slightly as she scoffed. “Like anyone else would want to sleep in that accursed thing.”

Mudrock played with her hands nervously as she shifted in her chair. “If it’s not too rude, would you mind explaining?”

“No problem. It’s a nice opportunity to vent.” The Abyssal Hunter flashed her friend another toothy smile. “First of all, the thing was uncomfortable as hell. ‘Ergonomically designed,’ the doctors always said. Maybe for them. Next, they always used to strap me to it whenever I got too feisty for them. And the creaking always kept me up. Pff. At least it’s gone now.”

“Strap you down? I’ve never heard of oripathy causing episodes like that.” In her long experience in Reunion, the Sarkaz had certainly seen terminal oripathy before. The desperation, the despair. The moment a person fully realized their imminent death, those were memories forever scarred into her mind. But once an infected progressed to that stage, no treatment in the world could help them. From the briefing the Doctor gave her, Specter was something of a long-term patient.

“Well, I’m something of a special case. Some landlubber church did some experimenting on me. Couldn’t keep me down, though.” The Aegir gave a derisive laugh as she sauntered over to her closet and pulled out a nun’s habit. “At the very least, they gave me some cute clothes as a parting gift.”

Mudrock looked at the black dress skeptically. A prisoner keeping her uniform as memorabilia was baffling.

“Oh, trust me. The moment I could, I ripped off every accursed symbol they had on this thing.” Laurentina chuckled to herself as she twirled around with the habit in her hands. “Sometimes I like wearing it and wandering around the ship, whispering absolute nonsense. Skadi and Captain always get spooked whenever I do. It’s hilarious.”

Mudrock nodded as she realized something. She had heard rumors of a white-haired nun prowling the landship in the dead of night before, but dismissed them as idle superstitions. Ghost stories meant to spook and amuse. It seemed like the culprit was just a gadfly of an operator standing right in front of her, laughing at her own mischief. Why anyone at Rhodes would jump immediately to a supernatural explanation confounded her. Then again, apparently Mudrock’s own team didn’t realize that the lithe woman that occasionally joined them in camp was her.

“Hey, wanna try it on?”

“H-huh?”

“Come on.” Specter grinned smugly as she leaned into Mudrock’s personal space. “At a glance, we look roughly the same. Same hair. Same eyes. I’m a little taller than you, but not by much. Besides, most people only know you when you’re wearing that big suit. It’d be funny.”

“Mmm…Perhaps another time.” Mudrock replied politely.

“Serious girl, aren’t you? Well, that has its own charm.” As Specter moved back, she knocked a few heavy books off her desk. As they hit the ground, they each made a loud thud. “Damn it. I would have preferred e-books, but all your tablets are so slow.”

Mudrock wordlessly moved to pick them up. Looking through the titles, most of them seemed to be textbooks, mostly regarding world history. “Do you like reading these?”

“Oh, absolutely not. All of this is dry enough to desiccate me.” Specter gave her texts a revolting glare. “But, if I’m going to be helping you landwalkers, I might as well get to know you lot better.”

“You hail from Aegir, right? The deep sea. How different is life down there compared to up here?”

Specter sighed before giving the Sarkaz a gentle smile. “I’ll try to be nice, but there is only so much I can do. Let me put it this way, compare how life is now to the days when you landwalkers were first discovering how to farm crops. That’s roughly the same gulf between us. As an example, your toilets suck. Skadi seems fine with the fancy one she shelled all her money for, but she’s gone too soft on you landfolk. I had to strongarm Closure into jury-rigging mine together. Is it too much to ask for heated seats? I hate it when my butt plops down and suddenly I get goosebumps. Literal pain in the ass.”

“I see.” The Sarkaz giggled to herself as Specter pouted. When asking around about Specter, most gave the impression that she was a dangerous predator. Now said predator was having a petulant, spoiled tantrum in front of her. “It’s good to see that people are the same, regardless of where they come from.”

Specter raised an eyebrow curiously. “Oh, I assure you, on a biological level, you and I are quite different.”

“No, it’s not that. I find that even in the face of dire catastrophe, people still make the time to complain about minor inconveniences. I suppose that pettiness grounds us. Takes our mind off of things. There were many times in my travels when my companions’ only complaint was how soggy their feet were, even when we were being pursued by entire armies.”

Specter scoffed playfully as Mudrock continued. “I’m personally glad we have toilets to begin with. Surely as a warrior, you know how…unsanitary conditions can get in the field.”

“Oh, for sure. But to have such sordid conditions at home is unacceptable. Hahaha. I could go on and on about my judgments of surface life, but that would just sour the mood. If we Abyssals get a chance to take you folks home, you will very quickly realize the rift between us and you. At least for now. Enough of the shark spilling her guts all over the place though. Let’s see what miss soil and rock has in store.”

---

The first thing to hit Specter’s senses was the smell of Mudrock’s room. To say it was earthy was an understatement. If she didn’t have eyes, who could blame her for thinking she was in a garden covered with freshly laid mulch? The floor was lined with pots. Pots and pots filled to the brim with soil. A large bag akin to the ones Rhodes had in the garden leaned against the wall. Most of the dirt was in a corner, but the streaks on the floor indicated that it was swept up recently.

“Wow. You really like dirt, don’t you?”

Mudrock nodded happily. “I feel more at ease with soil beneath my feet than wood or carpeting.”

“Hmm. How about metal, though? Wasn’t that part of the earth once?”

The Sarkaz gave Specter a troubled look as she traced her boot on the metal flooring obscured by a dusting of red clay. “Yes, but…something about the smelting process mutes the voice of the earth. I imagine it’s akin to the difference between a live fowlbeast and a cooked one.”

“Huh. Now that is interesting.” Specter muttered as she swept a smattering of soil aside. A case filled with multicolored pebbles caught her eye. “And you collect rocks as well?”

“Mmm.” Mudrock mumbled affirmatively as she picked up the case and looked at it affectionately. “These are my friends.”

“Oh, do you talk to them?” The shark-woman asked teasingly.

“Yes. And they tell me many things.”

“Huh?” The Abyssal figured Mudrock simply had a great deal of geological knowledge and expressed it in poetic terms. But, she had read that the Sarkaz knew witchcraft of sorts. On the other hand, that could just be slanderous stereotyping.

The Sarkaz pointed to a black glassy pebble. “This one, from Siesta. It tells me of scorching magma and the sea breeze.”

Then to a yellow rock streaked with gray lines. “This one, from the Columbian coast. It tells me of its journey from the mountains to the riverbed of one of the nation’s oldest settlements.”

And another with a shiny metallic coat splotched with rust. “This one, meteoric iron from Victoria. It tells me of its journey through the cosmos down to the land.”

“This one,” she pointed to a dark rock with white speckles, “from an island off the coast of Iberia. It tells me of the ocean depths. It’s slow journey to land. Of the Iberian explorers that took it and sailed to faraway shores.”

The mention of depths and Iberia caught Specter’s attention, her eyes widening with predatory glee. “What else did it tell you about the ocean?”

“Hmm. Not much. Merely of the crushing water and cold darkness. Of how sea creatures would disturb it every once in a while.”

The Abyssal Hunter let out a sigh of relief and disappointment. Of course, Seaborne don’t care much for inorganic things. Well, that’s not true. She had seen some that had evolved to gnaw on rocks to use the mineral content for carapace before, but the beasts swapped to eating bones and shells after realizing how inefficient that was. For a hivemind with “unfathomable adaptability and persistence,” the monsters were laughably shortsighted sometimes.

“Ooh, ooh. Let me try.” Specter playfully ran a finger on the glass of Mudrock’s collection, trying to spot one she recognized. Some of them reminded her of rocks found on the ocean floor, but she didn’t know enough about them to put her thoughts into terms that matched Mudrock. “Dang. If you had some marble, I might be able to tell you something.”

“Marble?” Mudrock looked down in contemplation. “Ah, you know about sculpting?”

The Aegirian gave her friend a small nod. “If I wasn’t called to fight, I probably would’ve lived my life carving statues all day. ‘Course, I’d probably be dead as well, given how badly things were going down in the deep.”

Mudrock let out a small gasp. Before she could apologize, Specter giggled and winked at her. “Don’t worry about it. What’s done is done. Besides, now that I’m all lucent, I have all the time in the world to pick up my craft again. Assuming I don’t go wild and hack everything to dust, that is.”

“If that’s the case…” Mudrock leaned down and opened a drawer. With great care, she took out small figures made of gray rock and clay, gently placing them on her desk. “Would you like to meet some of my other friends?”

“Aww, how cute.” Laurentina beamed as she inspected the small dolls on the desk. At a glance, they didn’t seem that impressive. Many of them were lumpy and misshapen, as if a small child had fashioned clay into a vaguely humanoid shape. Depressions reminiscent of fingers lined many of them. But, they had a strangely lifelike quality to them. As if they could look at Specter with something resembling curiosity. “Can I touch them?”

The Sarkaz gave a meek nod. “Go right ahead. Just be gentle with them. My friends don’t like it when people are rough with them.”

With uncharacteristic care, Specter picked up a clay doll, treating it as if it would turn to dust at the slightest jostling. Turning it this way and that, the Abyssal Hunter scrunched her face as she stared at it closer. The joints almost seemed like they were designed to move around. But the doll was stiff and dry in Specter’s hands. What sort of craftsmanship allowed Mudrock to make such things?

Specter shook her head. Might as well get the information straight from the tap. “Say, Mudrock. I’ve seen your records from Wolumonde. You can animate some large rock constructs, right?”

“The Colossi? Yes. They are a secret Arts technique of my people.”

“The Sarkaz?”

Mudrock shook her head as she fiddled with another clay figure in her hands. Specter could clearly see the clay and rock shift effortlessly, despite being completely dry. The little golem turned to the Aegirian and waved at her. “A tribe of Sarkaz, known as the Gargoyles. We are all connected to the earth. We can hear its call. And it hears us.”

“So these dolls are ritualistic items, then?”

“Sometimes. They are the spirit of the soil given form. But I can also impart my own will into them. That is how the colossi are formed. A covenant. Between my will, and the earth’s.”

“That explains it then.” Specter began as she respectfully placed the doll in her hand back with its friends. It shifted its head a microscopic amount. As if it were conversing happily with its peers. “I was wondering why I was so mystified with them. No offense, but they seemed rather crude at a glance. But if you make them by pouring your heart and soul into them, of course they’d be adorably charming.”

“It’s no problem at all.” Mudrock smiled remorsefully. “I only wish I could be better. If my arts were stronger, then maybe I would be able to use my colossi without danger to myself. If I were stronger, perhaps I would be able to fashion something more organized than crude lumps like these.”

“Need some inspiration then? I’m sure I could show you a few things.”

“Thank you, but that’s unnecessary. My bloodline, my people, have more than enough things to aspire to. A sculptor like you should see what an elder Gargoyle is capable of. Constructs that would put machinists and artists in other countries to shame with how detailed and intricate, how lifelike they can be. And how useful they are. When I was young, I always heard tales of ancient Sarkaz villages safeguarded by golems. Tireless soldiers of rock and clay.”

“Now that sounds interesting.” Specter’s grinned, this time with innocent excitement. To see moving statues, her younger self would’ve been ecstatic. “It’s a shame you have to use them to fight though. Priceless artwork shouldn’t be in harm’s way.”

“Perhaps, but such is our existence. Our enemies are many. And the violence never ends.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Specter gave her friend a more typical frenzied smile. “It’s not that different down below. Our enemy is uncountable and unending. The right to live, the right to exist, demands we fight. We may be worlds apart in some ways, but I suppose us seadwellers and landwalkers align in others.”

“Perhaps,” Mudrock replied in a weary voice as she gazed at her empty suit, dry silt spilling out of it. How long has she worn it? To protect time and time again? To destroy time and time again? “But do you think it’ll end at some point? I have seen so much needless suffering. I have protected so many from one danger only to find two more lurking close by.”

The Abyssal Hunter shrugged before giving the Sarkaz a sympathetic look. “Aye, it’s a pain in the ass. But you know what I saw once? Aegir’s enemy, the Seaborne, once invaded and took over one of our cities. All our great works, art, technology, everything strewn about. Ruined, defiled with bestial ignorance.”

The Aegir’s eyes glowed bright red with rage as the images of that day flashed in her mind. “Yes, the lives lost are the most tragic, but destroying creations spits on the legacy of all who poured their hearts and souls into them. All the technology turned to junk, an offense against all the thinkers and tinkers who spent countless hours trying to make something to improve people’s lives. When you see all you care about so casually and ignorantly destroyed, you will have no qualms taking up arms again. I assure you.”

The bloodthirsty outrage in Specter’s voice shook Mudrock to her core. This was the deep sea predator that everyone thought Specter was. Now she saw it. “You know that feeling? The feeling that your foe seeks to erase every part of your existence? It makes you want to resist, doesn’t it? Fight back, even if you’re hopelessly outmatched. I’m sure you do, if my reading about the Sarkaz is accurate.”

The Gargoyle gave a cautious nod. “I know that feeling well. But, a part of me fears…losing myself in that anger.”

“Aye, I suppose that is an issue. You landlubbers and your politics. Your fights would be far easier if all your enemies were ravenous monsters and their suck-ups. Still, if someone’s clearly harming the defenseless, we shouldn’t feel guilty about fighting back.”

“That we can agree on. Sorry this conversation got so heavy.”

Specter waved her off. “No problem. No problem. You were probably carrying that in you for a while, Gargoyle. That stuff’ll boil you from the inside out if you let it stew. You need to vent every once in a while to someone that isn’t a piece of clay.”

Mudrock blushed slightly in embarrassment at Specter’s comment. “I-I will try. People are…harder to speak to than soil. Also, Gargoyle?”

The shark-woman nodded enthusiastically. “Well, I call Skadi, Orca; Captain, Swordfish. We seem to gel well, so why don’t I call you Gargoyle?”

“If you wish.”

“Hey, you can call me Shark.” Specter replied as she flashed another toothy grin.

“Very well. Sh- Sorry. It still sounds a little awkward to me. Um, do you mind if I keep calling you Specter?”

“Come on. We poured our hearts and souls to each other. You showed me your rock collection. You can call me Shark!”

“Sorry. I mean no offense.”

“Well I’m not leaving your room until you do.” Specter replied as she crossed her arms and planted herself on Mudrock’s bed.

---

Subject: Rumor Investigation

From: Plume

To: Amiya

Hi Amiya,

I have finished my patrols of Dorm Floor 2 as you requested. As you know, recently there have been more sightings of a ghostly nun stalking the halls late at night. While I first dismissed this as a rumor, a ghost story to past time, it seems there was some truth to it. That being said, contrary to the fantastical stories circulating around, there is a far more mundane explanation.

It seems Operator Specter has taken to haunting the halls in the dead of night. I’m not privy to all the details, she is a mysterious one to begin with, but it has something to do with some sort of religious practice? At least that’s what she told me. Something about hearing “commands from a higher power.” That being said, I could swear Specter appeared shorter on some nights. Not to mention suddenly growing horns. I certainly don’t know her and her associates well enough to draw conclusions, so you may have better luck asking her yourself. That concludes my report.

Plume

---

“Shark, what is this?” Gladiia asked as she stared at a small gray doll resting on Specter’s desk. She could swear it was looking at her, but that was silly. Rock and mud alone were not animate. More importantly, the crudeness of the doll would not normally match Specter’s aesthetic standards.

“That little one was something Gargoyle gifted to me. Ain’t it cute?”

“Gargoyle? Ah, you must mean that Sarkaz you befriended.”

The shark-woman nodded happily as she practically shoved her hand in front of her captain’s face. “Look at this one. I asked her to make a shark, and here’s what she did.”

The Abyssal leader stared at the clay figure in Specter’s hands. The general shape seemed accurate, but a couple of details seemed off. For one, the teeth were far too big, jutting out of the mouth like a wall of stalactites. Not to mention the bulges on the fins, were they supposed to be muscles? The eyes were streaks pointed downwards, making the figure look furious. But that could just be stylistic choice.

“Has this person ever seen a shark in person, I wonder.”

Specter giggled as she placed the clay shark next to the golem. “I assume most land-dwellers haven’t. Still, it is fun to see how they interpret all the critters of the sea. Wonder what I should ask her to make next. Maybe a squid. Or a flatfish.”

Gladiia rolled her eyes and smiled. First Orca. Now Shark. Somehow, the land proved to be far more infectious than any Seaborne.

---

Chapter Text

“Eek!” Blemishine yelped as she tripped over something on Eunectes’ floor. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine. If anything broke, I’ll just fix it again” The Pythia replied nonchalantly as she sifted through another pile of parts near her bed. The room looked less like a bedroom and more like a workshop that Eunectes occasionally slept in. Maria wasn’t one to judge, though, considering she had put a sleeping bag and minifridge into a workshop she frequented as well. Not to mention her own room.

“In that case, please let me take a look at anything I broke.”

“Hmm…I figured you were an equipment smith. Most of my projects might be out of your skillset.”

“Don’t worry.” The Kuranta scratched her cheek sheepishly. “One time, my family gave me a drone as a birthday present. I managed to disassemble and then reassemble it. Didn’t even have to look at the manual.”

Eunectes gasped as she turned around and shoved a quadrotor in front of Maria. “In that case, can you look at this? Master Closure gave it to me as practice. I’ve looked it over a dozen times by now, but I still can’t figure out why it doesn’t stabilize itself.”

The Kuranta looked at the drone. Flicking a switch on its side, the device hovered a foot above the ground with a quiet whirring. So far so good at least. As she gently tapped the drone with her finger, it to flipped and careened into the ground. Had she not caught it in time.

Turning it over, there didn’t seem to be anything amiss with the exterior. Using a screwdriver lying on the floor, she carefully popped off the outer frame. The inertial measurement unit seemed properly attached and connected. Everything seemed wired properly as well. There was no sign of damage.

“Has Closure told you anything about the IMU?” Blemishine asked as she pinched the small black box and tried to shake it around. Zumama shook her head.

“She merely said that it wasn’t the problem directly, whatever that means. Two of the motors were broken when Closure gave it to me, so I made some using a 3D printer in Engineering.”

A flash of revelation hit Blemishine as she looked at the logo on the drone. Looking at the interior, most of the parts sported the exact same logo, except for the motors Eunectes had replaced.

“Those motors, do you know which model you used?”

“Ones that fit. I searched up the appropriate specs, and the computer gave me what I needed. If only we had a machine like that back in Sargon, it would’ve made our work far easier than slamming things together and hoping it worked.”

“That explains it.” The Kuranta muttered to herself. Of course. Even without any identifying marks, the motors Eunectes used were likely some Raythean-derived design. “You’re problem isn’t hardware, it’s software.”

Blemishine held the drone’s innards up, like a kid showing off a bug they caught. “Look at all these logos. This company uses a closed system.”

Eunectes stared at the Kuranta blankly. Usually, the Pythia took to tech like a burdenbeast to water. Not this time though.

“It means the drone doesn’t like parts from other manufacturers. Especially third-party parts. Odds are, the motors can’t communicate properly with the navigation chip, so the drone doesn’t actually know how to correct itself.”

“Why though?” Eunectes asked innocently.

“Well…” Maria trailed off as she looked around the room. She knew why. She knew countless reasons why. The hypercapitalist practices of her homeland taught her plenty about how society influences technology.

But, Zumama’s room would have given any manager or salesperson a heart attack. Raythean next to Rhine Labs. LMTech next to Blacksteel. The girl from Sargon’s junle stacked parts next to each other with nary a care where they came from. The tools she usually made, as effective as they were, would be considered chimerical by any modern company. This brought a small smile to the Kuranta’s face. Enough to give the most direct answer possible.

“Money. They make more money if they’re the only ones that can fix the things you buy.”

The Pythia’s face darkened, as if Maria’s answer was somehow blasphemous. Upon looking at Maria’s frightened face, Eunectes sighed and sat down next to the Kuranta on the floor, putting a hand on her shoulder. “What a waste. In any case, is there any way to solve this issue then? Perhaps we should fabricate parts that match the ones already present. Or maybe we rip out the chip, I want to tinker with this more anyways and that proprietary nonsense would get in the way.”

The Kuranta winked and giggled. “There’s a piracy group on Rhodes I know. Maybe we can ask them for help.”

“Pirates? That’s the first I’ve heard about Rhodes Island working with a criminal gang.”

“No. Not that type of piracy. They specialize in cracking electronic security. Honestly, if I ever work with something from a corporate source, I usually go to them just in case I want to tinker with things in the future.”

The Pythia’s eyes widened as she began frantically searching around the room. “Then I need to make a list of things I want them to look at. Now that I think about it, I threw away a lot of ideas just because they didn’t work for some reason. Quick, Maria! I keep a wheelbarrow near the closet. Let’s use it!”

“Calm down! Calm down!” Maria pleaded as she tried to restrain her fellow defender. While the Kuranta appreciated having someone with equal enthusiasm for machinery as her, this was far too much at the moment. “They have a rule. One person. One thing. And we need to use that one thing on the drone Miss Closure gave you.”

As Zumama finally calmed down, a stack of papers from her desk fell over in all the commotion. Blemishine leaned over to help pick it all up. Skimming the contents, they seemed to be spec sheets for Lancet-2. And a few sketches of the globular machine as well.

“Oh, did Miss Closure give you these? Her machines are rather interesting, are they not? One day, I hope I get the chance to do maintenance on them.” Blemishine remarked casually as she flipped through a stack of papers onto Zumama’s desk. The Pythia, however, had a serious expression on her face as she nodded with conviction.

“Master Closure’s machines are masterpieces. Especially my sister.”

“Eh?”

“Didn’t I tell you? Lancet-2 is my sister.” Zumama stated as if it were the most obvious statement in the world. Maria Nearl stared at her friend blankly, unable to process what she just heard.

“Ahahaha. Yes, she does have a very caring attitude. I’m sure many think of her as being sisterly.” Maria giggled nervously as she scratched the back of her head. Of course, she had been made a fool. The Pythia was probably being metaphorical. That had to be it. She simply liked Lancet-2 very much.

“As expected of my big sister. I’m proud to be her little sis.” Zumama said casually. Blemishine realized that the Pythia was being serious. The Kuranta’s eyes clouded over as she stared at nothing. For nothing could have prepared her for what she had just heard.

“Maria, are you alright?” Eunectes asked as she waved a hand in front of the frozen knight. “Do we need to get Lancet-2 here? In fact, we should. I would like to see her again.”

“No! No!” Maria waved her hands frantically and shook her head, her blonde ponytail swishing back and forth. “It’s perfectly alright. I was just…taken aback, is all! I mean, how did that even happen? Did she adopt you or…”

“We met in the jungles of Sargon, just after the Great Chief’s Trials.” Zumama answered as she smiled nostalgically. “It was there, that I knew our hearts were connected.”

“Oh, how sweet.” Maria answered as she clasped her hands together. She decided to roll with, if only because it made it friend happy. She didn’t really get it, but Zumama seemed to adore Lancet-2 the same way she adored Margaret. “You must look up to her a lot.”

Eunectes nodded fervently. “Yes. One day, I wish to make another like her.”

“Huh? You wish to make another sister?”

“Of course. Machines that can talk and think on their own. Is there no higher achievement for an engineer?”

“In that case, perhaps you ought to study programming a bit more.” Maria suggested as she absentmindedly ran a hand through one of Zumama’s scrap piles. “Do the people back in your home know about all this? What you’re doing here?”

“Of course. I taught them myself.” The Pythia puffed her chest proudly. “You saw the Raging Ironhide in Engineering, right? I made another one back home. Now everyone in the tribe wants to make their own too.”

“Wow. You alone did all that?” Blemishine marveled breathlessly. She stared at the snake girl with a sense of admiration, one usually reserved for her older sister. She never expected the girl that the master engineers treated like a talented yet airheaded apprentice had already shaken the foundations of an entire culture.

“I had help from a friend. But even if I didn’t, I would still try. I had to. The Tiacauh would’ve clubbed each other on the head with sticks over every petty argument if I left them alone. Now, they understand the power of technology. Soon, they shall all be wielding machines.”

“Um, that sounds like they’re still clubbing each other on the head over every petty argument. Except now with giant machines instead.”

“Yes, what’s the problem with that?” The Pythia asked innocently. Blemishine could only blink in response.

“Nothing, I suppose. I can’t really complain, considering my people’s obsession with tourneys.”

“I believe Master Closure told me a little about them, but I still don’t understand why your rituals are so pointless.”

Blemishine tilted her head in confusion as the Pythia crossed her arms.

“This Kazimierz spends lots of time and labor constructing all these elaborate arenas. They arrange multiple different types of contests for the participants. Why do the knights not get to be in charge? Do they not fight in the tournaments to prove they’re the strongest?”

Maria stammered as she put a hand to her mouth. She certainly had first hand knowledge why, now how to break it to Eunectes?

“More importantly, I saw some footage of the tournaments in the break rooms. Some of the knights seemed strong, but a lot of them look like they would go down in a single punch from me or Gavial. Not to mention how many of them insist on fighting with such limited tech when they don’t have to. Why do those whose only strength is puffing their own chest get so much attention? In fact, I’d say any Tiacauh worth their tail could knock down those knights in a few blows. Bring my people to Kazimierz, and we’ll dominate the tournament scene in no time flat.”

Giggles bubbled up from Maria’s throat, before descending into full on laughter. The Kuranta covered her mouth in a futile effort to silence her laughing fit, but eventually relented.

“Haha. S-sorry. Hahaha. Your method might be a bit too forceful for most. But I can’t say I disagree with the sentiment. Unfortunately, I don’t think that will improve the situation for long.”

“Oh?”

Maria cleared her throat as she sat on a toolbox. “The Kazimierz of old was once a realm ruled by the warrior elite. While I certainly look up to the chivalric ideals formed during such a time, I do not wish for a return to the old ways, contrary to what others might tell you.”

“You do not? Why? Every Kazimierzan I ever talk to seems to despise the new order of things.”

The Kuranta stared somberly into the distance. “Much of the criticism leveraged against my country’s current leaders would not be wrong if leveraged against the knights of old. While I admire the romanticized stories of the age, when you look at history, you have to acknowledge the truth. The old nobility seldom followed the chivalric ideals set forth for them. The old nobility often only used their strength solely to uplift themselves at the expense of everyone else.”

The Pythia nodded understandingly. “So bullies then. But they were defeated, right? Surely the new leaders gave them a good smack.”

Maria giggled. Such a refreshingly straightforward way of looking at the world. A bit crude, but certainly better than dealing with shadowy Kazimierzan politics all the time. “Not exactly. The new leaders used financial power to beat the knight’s martial power. But all that did was shift the reins. In a way, the rulers are still bullies.”

“All the more reason to give them a good smack. Whenever anyone in the tribe got too big an ego, a light pummeling from someone else usually humbled them. You don’t make chief where I’m from if you can’t take a good hit every now and again. And none of the executives the others showed me look like they haven’t taken so much as a slap in their lives. Even the Doctor is willing to take a smack every now and again, even if he whines forever afterwards.”

“Heheh. Perhaps I should send you over to help Margaret. She has to deal with all the constant politicking, some brute muscle might just be what she needs. That or a decent sparring partner. Say, it’s not all doom and gloom back home. There are a couple of interesting things from Kazimierz. The knights of old might have gone out of fashion, but our love for smithing hasn’t. Wanna see what sort of tech we’ve invented over the years?”

The Pythia’s eyes lit up. “Of course! Lead the way!”

---

Maria looked at the Pythia mirthfully as Eunectes tried on a white gauntlet and did a few jabs at the air. While the Kuranta’s room resembled a live-in workshop, she thought that her projects were more organized than Zumama’s. If only by a little. There certainly wasn’t as much hardware lying around, but the sheer amount of armor, weapons, and components to make both filled in the gap readily enough. Enough swords and spears lined the wall that Maria could probably make a car if she melted them all down.

“This gauntlet…” Zumama grunted to herself as she stared at the articulations of the joints. “You need to make it tougher. I don’t think it could withstand more than a few dozen punches.”

“It is a failed prototype after all.” Maria took the armor piece and set it down with a number of other similar-looking designs. “And I wasn’t intending for it to be used offensively. I was aiming for Arts conductivity.”

“Ah, I noticed the coating. Was this for that armor you made for your sister?”

“Yep.” Blemishine scratched the back of her head bashfully. Out of all the projects she had completed, her sister’s new battlesuit was the one that challenged her the most. “It was rather difficult, making sure it was suited to Margaret’s abilities.”

“I’ll say.” The Pythia laughed nostalgically as she tossed an armguard in the air. The young Kuranta had once approached her for help out of the blue, back when Maria had just arrived. “Do you remember that list of requirements you drew up? It has to have this level of conductivity, but be this protective, but also lightweight and comfortable. Can’t forget fashionable as well. At first, I thought you were just joking. Then came one all-nighter after another. How much coffee did we drink back then?”

Maria groaned as her gut experienced phantom pains. “Too much. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t touched the stuff since then.”

Eunectes took a break from playing around with the pieces in Maria’s atelier and looked at the diagrams the Kuranta had hung on her wall. Armor blueprints, weapons diagrams. They seemed fairly simple at a glance, but the margins were covered in hasty scrawling detailing everything from weight restrictions to materials.

“Hwaah!” Blemishine’s ears shot straight up as she covered Zumama’s eyes. “Sorry, I should’ve taken that down before you got here. You shouldn’t have seen that!”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing important on those.” The Pythia replied flatly. She was more annoyed at the offending hands covering her eyes than being denied information. Begrudgingly, she turned away from the sheets on the wall and looked at her friend.

“Those’re actually top secret.” Maria muttered as she pressed her index fingers together. “I’m not supposed to have them.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I won’t tell anyone.” Zumama winked as she pat her friend on the shoulder. “Besides, it’s not like I actually care about those things. I’m more interested in inventing machines anyways.”

“Then again,” the Pythia grinned smugly, “since I’m already in the know, why don’t you tell me a little about them? I’ll forget all about the details by the time I walk out the door, promise.”

“Um, well…Okay, but you really have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.” The Pythia nodded firmly as her friend let her turn back around. “Well, these were designs I was using as inspiration for Margaret’s armor. The one on the left I got from Uncle Liam, and the other from Mister Szewcyzk.”

“Who and who?” Zumama replied bluntly.

“Uncle Liam is a Silverlance Pegasus. Um, think of a really strong knight. And Szewczyk was another competition knight. Uncle’s always known about my hobbies, so he handed me designs the day before I left Kazimierz as a going away present. And I’m not really sure why Mister Szewczyk gave me designs for his armor, something about repaying a debt to Pinus Sylvestris?”

“Okay.” Zumama replied bluntly. She didn’t really care much for the knights, but if Maria thought highly of them, they must’ve been strong. “Reminds me of the armor all the city soldiers always wear. Zhayedan, I think they’re called.”

“You met the Zhayedan?” Maria couldn’t believe her ears. Mentions of undying Sargon warriors were common in her storybooks. The accounts were probably embellished, but the former Sargon soldiers on Rhodes had proven that their prowess wasn’t mere legend.

“Once. A mobile city came close to us and a bunch of soldiers came out. Fancy armor and weapons and stuff. They didn’t pay us much mind, and they didn’t impress me much. The big thing they came from did.”

“I imagine. Do you remember anything?” Maria scooched closer to her friend, who scooched back slightly. They repeated this song and dance as Maria bombarded the Sargon native with questions. What was the shape of their swords? How were the armor plates organized? Their helmets? How many were there? What did their command structure appear to be? Eunectes could only shrug at most of the questions. When Maria realized what she was doing, she blushed furiously and covered her mouth.

“I got too excited.” She squeaked out.

The Pythia laughed jovially as she slapped her friend on the back. “I’ll say. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone happy to talk about them. Personally, I found them stuffy. You must really like warriors. Hmm. Does your sister have anything to do with that?”

“A part of it is her, yes. But, well…when you grow up in my family, it’s hard not to.” Blemishine pulled up a picture on her phone. In it were a little Maria and slightly less little Margaret. On both sides, they were flanked by strong looking men and women. There was another woman that Eunectes vaguely recognized. Well, not woman, more like teenage girl. No way.

“Instructor Whislash?” She uttered in shock. The woman in the picture was notably younger, and lacked the carefree attitude she usually had. Hell, she looked downright serious, if Eunectes could believe that.

Maria giggled to herself as she looked at the picture fondly. “Yes, it’s hard to believe how much Auntie has changed. There’s also Uncle Liam, Uncle Mlynar, Lady Russell. Long story short, I had grown up around many accomplished warriors. And even if I didn’t, Margaret would always read stories to me about heroes. It’s silly, I know.”

“I don’t think so.” Eunectes gently picked up a drone and set it in her own lap, petting it affectionately. “When you witness something that inspires you, opens up a world of possibilities to you, there’s nothing silly about that. Look at me, the sight of a mobile city, something that the rest of the world wouldn’t bat an eyelash at, was enough to change my entire life. If I didn’t see that giant beast of steel that one day, I might’ve stayed in the jungle until the day I died. If a story inspired you, then there’s nothing to laugh at.”

The Kuranta had no words, but she felt deeply grateful. Back in Kazimierz, all she desired was to live up to her family name. To restore it in the eyes of her country. Ever since Margaret was exiled, that was how she chose to define knighthood. Now though, she was in the process of finding a new meaning. One that she had always been passionate about. And with the arena long behind her, one she could indulge in wholeheartedly.

Zumama smiled brightly, and soon Maria mirrored her. “That being said, how strong are some of those folks?”

“Let’s see. Lady Russell’s retired from fighting these days. Uncle Mlynar’s too busy with office work, so he hasn’t really fought in a while. So out of all of them, I think Uncle Liam’s the only one that’s the best. I once saw him cut through a concrete pillar with his sword, if that’s any indication.”

The Pythia’s eyes lit up in awe. “You must invite him to Rhodes Island as soon as you can. I want to see him take on Gavial.”

“I think that would be a one-sided fight. Doctor Gavial’s strong and all, but I don’t think she’s that strong.”

“Nonsense.” the Pythia scoffed and pumped her fists. “You didn’t see what she did to become Great Chief. I’m sure she could take on a Silverlance Pegasus.”

Maria couldn’t believe it. The two of them were talking like little children, claiming their favorite character could beat the other’s. It reminded her of all the time she and Margaret spent reading novels together, always debating which character was better. That gave her an idea. She jumped over to her bookshelf as looked for a few titles to pull out. Ones she thought would get her friend’s attention.

The Pythia raised an eyebrow skeptically as the Kuranta came back to her, a pile of books in her arms. To the point where her entire torso was covered by them. “Um…That is a bit much, isn’t it?”

“This is just to have a few backups. I know you’re not interested in knightly tales and all, but I have plenty of other books. For example, this one.”

The Kuranta picked a book out and flipped through the pages. “Look at this.”

“Huh? Diagrams?” Eunectes stared at the diagrams inked on the page. At a glance, they looked like elaborate clocks with all the gears on them. But on closer inspection, there seemed to be many different machines detailed throughout. Weapons. Puppets. Instruments. Even vehicles.

“Zofia got this for me as a birthday gift. Engineering throughout history. There was this one Siracusan thinker that left behind really detailed diagrams. I remember making one of the lever-action crossbows in here and getting in trouble for shooting it in Auntie’s backyard.”

The Pythia nodded, but was otherwise entranced by another drawing. “This one. A steam cannon. How about instead of firing cannonballs, we use it as a short-ranged weapon.”

Eunectes jumped out excitedly as she started rambling out ideas. “Right, the Raging Ironhide already uses a combustion engine. All we have to do is redirect the radiator’s coolant to a pressurized chamber, and then we have a functional steam cannon.”

“Thinking about being reassigned to be a Specialist?” Maria jokingly asked. She couldn’t say she wasn’t intrigued by the prospect, although it was probably going to be more difficult than Zumama thought it would be. “We’d have to think about how to make sure your machine doesn’t overheat when all the water’s used up.”

The two of them continued flipping through the books in Maria’s collection. Anytime Eunectes saw or read something that caught her attention, she excitedly babbled about the possible inventions she wanted to make. So much that Maria lost track of some of them. The Kuranta sighed happily to herself as she let her friend rant on about how amazing a mounted rotary cannon would be.

She loved her sister and aunt dearly, but they had always supported her passion from afar. And Kowal had always seen her as a plucky young apprentice, needing guidance and discipline. She had little interest in joining most tech firms, since they only ever cared about profit. Here though, she had peers with whom she could hash out crazy ideas with. And more than enough materials to make them. She just hoped her new superiors wouldn’t mind too much.

---

-Rhodes Island Intranet-

-Engineering Section-

-Forum: Sounding Board-

Project Idea: Improved personal protective equipment

Description: Hi everyone. Since I recently finished Margaret’s new armor, I was thinking of applying the principles more generally. Hopefully, with some support and suggestions, we could make armor for the operators that is lightweight and more protective.

Feedback:

Keeping our friends alive is always helpful. -Vulcan

Making the armor’s the easy part. The hard part is convincing everyone to wear it -Tincan

If you need any mats, feel free to hit me up. More than enough spare Meeboos to scrap -Mayer

Project Idea: Giant robot-sized sword

Description: Recently, I was struck with some inspiration. The Raging Ironhide is strong, but it lacks range. Why don’t we make some weaponry for it?

Feedback:

I think your machine is perfectly strong as is. Also, aside from imagery, why a sword? Any weapon that big is going to be relying mostly on sheer kinetic force to begin with. A giant rod would be just as effective while being easier to make. -Gunject

If you need range, we could always just strap some artillery onto the thing. How about an arm-mounted crossbow? -Toddifons

I think I saw that in a manga once. It would look cool, but so does punching things. -Adnachiel

---

Subject: Re: Designs Procurement

From: Doctor

To: Kal’tsit

Look,

The recent things Engineering is experimenting with was not the result of any meddling on my or Closure’s part. Neither of us “requested” that the Adeptus Sprawiedliwi hand over classified designs for campaign knight equipment. The same way neither of us “requested” that Raythean give Jessica bleeding-edge equipment that no one has ever seen before. Nor did I ever go through front or back channels to get top secret corporate prototypes from the KGCC.

If you want more proof, the fact that neither Closure nor the rest of the Engineering team have been successful at pulling anything of value from Gladiia should be indicative of how poor we are at intentionally procuring technology we shouldn’t have. If you need an excuse to tell all the foreign reps, just say that Rhodes’ position as an international NGO affords us a diverse array of thinkers and connections. That’s basically true anyways. Also, it’s not like they can sue us without intentionally revealing that their most secure assets were leaked, so we should be safe from any public outcry.

Doctor

---

Chapter Text

“Come on, you don’t need to do all that.” The Doctor scratched his neck in embarrassment as he watched Schwarz sort through the records in his room. The Feline moved with ceaseless efficiency, never once stopping to check where something belonged. He thought she would slip up at some point, but no. Every disc, every tape, every file was meticulously sorted into alphabetical order.

“Is this personal preference or just a habit?” The Doctor asked casually. Schwarz shrugged, but didn’t turn around. Her tail hung behind her nonchalantly. That was at least a marked improvement from the scowl she gave when she first entered the room and saw the mess. Given her service to Ceylon, the Feline was probably accustomed to routine domestic chores.

The sniper grunted to herself in approval as she turned to face the Doctor again. “That should make it easier to find the appropriate data.”

“Hey, I had a system before. And it worked. You just had to do a little digging.” Schwarz let out an exasperated sigh.

“If I didn’t have personal experience with your leadership, I’d highly doubt that. This room, though. Something about it feels off.”

“Such as?”

Schwarz looked around. At the random merchandise from various entertainment brands and bands strewn about. At the operator records and battle plans thoroughly annotated. At the high class liquor bottles tossed next to dirt cheap fast food containers. One letter written to comfort the younger patients aboard. Another to coldly detail the potential dangers of a planned operation and how they were within acceptable parameters . The Doctor’s life seemed to be a complete contradiction. Neither civilian, nor soldier. In many ways, it reminded her of the spirit of the company as a whole. Somehow both a humanitarian organization and a paramilitary group. As she relayed all this to the man in question, he merely laughed at her answer .

“That’s one hell of an image you have of me. Most of our partners think the same. It’s just the nature of our work. You should understand. After all, when you’re showing me your room later, are you going to show me the one you share with Ceylon, the one you keep all to yourself, or both?”

The Feline let out a small gasp before clenching her mouth shut. She eyed the man suspiciously as her tail bristled. How did he know?

“I’m not gonna take it from you, don’t worry.” The Doctor held his hands up. If Schwarz wanted to kill him, she would have by now. All her aggression was probably just a harmless attempt at intimidation. “Like I said, we’re peas in a pod. How do you usually put it? Sometimes I get to work in the light. But other times, I have to work in the shadows. I won’t judge.”

“So long as I have your word. Come on. You might as well see it now.” The Feline let her tail down slightly as the Doctor nodded. She motioned for the Doctor to follow her before tersely walking out. The operator’s request was abrupt, but the Doctor figured it was better to placate her sooner rather than later.

“While we make our way there, tell me exactly how you managed to figure it out.” Schwarz hissed out as she looked around. Most of the passerby’s were nonchalantly going about their business, but every once in a while, the Feline felt eyes staring at her. The former assassin had gotten used to dealing with the casual tracking of the more seasoned operators; strength recognizes strength, after all. But had she let her guard down too much?

“It wasn’t that hard. Some of the boiler workers casually talked about how you would frequent this one quiet little corner down in the lower deck. They’re awfully perceptive of people that aren’t regulars down there, you see. And this cubby of yours is quite far away from the bar on that floor. If you’re not boozing with the technicians, most people don’t have a reason to be down there. Anyone could put two and two together at that point.”

“Hmph. Gossipy hens.” Schwarz muttered to herself. “You figure the people here would know a thing or two about keeping secrets.”

The Doctor knowingly chuckled to himself. The boiler workers certainly did, considering that some of them have been here since the beginning. They knew more secrets than Schwarz had, if his constant probing taught him anything. As the two of them rode the lift down to the lower deck, the Feline hid her face underneath her scarf.

“Doctor,” Schwarz began softly, “please don’t tell Lady Ceylon about this. This part of me, she doesn’t need to know about it.”

“You’re worried that, if she learns the full extent of your past, she’ll be disgusted by you? Or scared?” The Feline nodded in an uncharacteristically fearful fashion. The Doctor smiled and gave her a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, if she isn’t scared of you now, nothing’s going to change.”

On impulse, he absentmindedly patted her head. Schwarz closed her eyes, but said nothing. “Remember back when we first picked you two up? She was always so scared of touching you back then, despite all those longing glances. Anyone of us could see it. And the ones that couldn’t caught on quickly when they talked to her. As she’s learned more about oripathy and its transmission methods from working here, well, how often does she hug you now?”

“Ah.” The woman’s face turned red as she looked at the floor.

“You’re very lucky to have a family like that, you know?” The Doctor had a sorrowful look on his face. “Most people, when they’re relatives get infected, treat them differently. Even when they hide them from authorities, the infected end up being treated like prisoners. Not allowed to leave the house. Not allowed close contact. As if they had just metamorphosed into a disgusting monster that needs to be hidden the moment they got sick. All this to say that if Ceylon hasn’t run away from you now, she won’t run away in the future, no matter what.”

As the two made their way through the lower decks, Schwarz fanned herself. She could never get used to this. The heat was nothing like Siesta. There was no blazing sun down here, but there also wasn’t any cooling sea breeze. As such, the hot air simply lingered like a stagnant fog. The Doctor on the other hand, casually walked with his hands in his pockets. Not a drop of sweat to be found on his skin.

“Doctor, how are you so comfortable? Is it your clothes?” Schwarz asked as she wiped the sweat off her forehead.

“Nah, I’m just not bothered by most weather. You really picked an out of the way place, we haven’t seen anyone for ages. Even the maintenance workers don’t go here that much.”

“Exactly why I picked it. Hold on a moment.” The Feline crouched down and untied something. A thin wire was pinched between her fingers, like a spider’s thread. The Doctor leaned forward and noticed a wooden plank hanging just behind a bulkhead.

“Booby traps?” He asked in disbelief. It probably wasn’t enough to seriously hurt anyone. But getting clocked in the face by a two-by-four was still unpleasant.

“Just old habits. I toned it down. The original design was made to puncture people’s skulls.” The former assassin said casually as slid open a door. The Doctor braced for a horrible screech of metal sliding against metal, but found none. “I keep this well-oiled. Sound down here travels endlessly.”

As the Doctor entered Schwarz’s lair, he knew what it looked like. A hitman’s hideout. Same industrial look. Same collection of killing implements. All that was missing was a board of faces held up by knives. At least Schwarz’s habit of housework meant that the place looked cleaner than the ones he had normally seen. On a workbench was her crossbow and some tools. That wasn’t much of a shocker. Many operators were quite possessive of their personal weapons, and constantly made adjustments without consulting Engineering. Rhodes unofficially allowed it, valuing the diversity and freedom of their employees.

“Isn’t bringing your weapon down here a hassle?”

Schwarz nodded. “Ceylon always tries to look over my shoulder whenever I do maintenance in our room. Haah. She’s done that since she was a child.”

Despite her annoyed tone, the doting smirk on her face was all the Doctor needed to know. He opened a minifridge only to find cans and bottles galore. “That’s a lot of booze. Why don’t you just go to the bar here?”

“Sometimes I like drinking by myself. Is that a problem?”

The Doctor shrugged. “So long as you aren’t passing out. If you have a medical emergency here, no one’s going to be around to help you. That would make a lot of people sad.”

The Feline seemed skeptical of his comment, but did nothing more than slowly nod. The Doctor sighed as he looked elsewhere. Schwarz certainly didn’t have the same deathwish other operators had. Rather, her ruthless outlook on life meant that she felt life itself had little value, hers included. In a way, he was thankful Ceylon joined alongside her, although Schwarz’s devotion to her younger sister was an issue unto itself.

A laptop charging in the corner of the room caught his attention. The Doctor asked the sniper to take a look, which she begrudgingly allowed. He choked down a gasp as he looked at the files on the desktop. There were notes and notes regarding every visitor to Rhodes Island within the past month, and then some. The Feline was meticulous as usual, recording time and place of entry. Group sizes, affiliation, stated purpose. Tour schedules and paths taken during free time.

Then came the more chilling parts. The guests’ entry and exits of various rooms down to the nearest minute. Hell, there were occasional notes about where their eyes were glancing. Threat assessments. Conjecture about possible subterfuge. This wasn’t just a habit from her old position back at Siesta. She was doing this far too thoroughly to just be weaning off of old routines. He felt simultaneously comforted and unsettled at Schwarz’s dedication.

“Schwarz. Why are keeping all this? We have security staff.” The Doctor worriedly asked as he looked the Feline in the eye. Her yellow eyes gleamed sharply in return.

“Rhodes has become…like Siesta to me.” She stated confidently. “This place. If it needs to be protected, I’ll do whatever it takes. Whatever threats there may be, I’ll stalk them in the shadows.”

“I see.” The Doctor shook his head then smiled gently at her. “Well, make sure to bring it up to HR, alright? We gotta compensate you properly for your overtime. Plus, I’m sure Ascalon would appreciate it if you cooperate with her rather than operate independently.”

Schwarz’s face softened as she blinked in confusion. “You’re not going to ask me to stop?”

“Come on, I’ve said it before. I know a thing or two about how unsavory the world can be at times. You’re not the only one that noticed some fishy behavior from our guests.” The Doctor continued browsing Schwarz’s laptop, finding dossiers on some of the other operators. HR would love to hear her thoughts. And so would SWEEP. “Rhodes isn’t some naive nonprofit. Our roster of security operators proves that. If this is how you want to contribute to our cause, just let us know. No need to act all aloof.”

The Doctor put the laptop back down, only to stub his foot on some dumbbells Schwarz had laid on the floor. He cursed to himself as he rubbed his foot. Did she also exercise down here as well? In this muggy heat? The Doctor grumbled to himself as Schwarz looked impassively at him. He could tell from the twitching of her lip that she thought his suffering was humorous.

As the Doctor stumbled around, his eyes landed on a box tucked away behind piles of wires and tape. Something about it caught his attention as he pushed away everything blocking it from his view. As he pulled it out, he noticed something. Things so out of place with the rest of the room, he had to stifle a laugh. There were two small dolls in there, of people that he knew. And whom Schwarz was deeply familiar with. Especially with how she blushed, glanced aside, and hid under her scarf again.

“Who made these for you?” The Doctor asked candidly.

“A-aosta. I helped his team during a mission once, so he made these for me as a gift for the holidays.” Schwarz replied softly. The Doctor grinned to himself as Schwarz gently picked up the dolls and hugged them close to herself. Even other siblings aboard Rhodes had expressed jealousy at how well Ceylon and Schwarz got along.

“So why do you keep them down here?” He asked teasingly. Schwarz’s feline ears drooped down as her eyes looked around the room, her dolls squeezed protectively against her chest. Her tail swaying side to side as she stewed in silence.

“Too embarrassing?” The Feline nodded bashfully as the Doctor ruffled her hair again. “Well, I’m sure Ceylon would love to see them. Besides, the humid air down here would ruin them eventually. They’ll be safer in your other room.”

“Right. Um, give me a moment.” Schwarz grabbed a spare bag and gently placed the dolls of herself and her sister inside. As the two of them went outside, the Doctor paused.

“Do you need some time to rearm all your traps?”

The former assassin shook her head. “You said it yourself. No one but me would ever come here.”

---

“I wonder if Ceylon has shown Weedy around yet.” The Doctor muttered to himself as he looked at the dorm room. Per the sisters’ request, they had been assigned a shared dorm room. Judging by the faint smell of antiseptic, Weedy probably already had the tour.

The room itself was more fitting to Ceylon’s character than Schwarz’s by a long shot. The beds were covered with embroidered sheets. A white porcelain tea set rested on the kitchenette, its spotless surfaces shining under the light. An oaken bookcase with flowery carvings contained medical journals and books aplenty, most likely from Ceylon’s own research.

“Miss Ceylon has a better sense of interior decor than I do.” Schwarz tersely commented as she placed her dolls in her bed and tucked them in, until only their heads were over the blankets. The Doctor glanced over at Schwarz, who had a serene smile on her face. Unfortunately, her nose soon wrinkled as she soon frowned. The Feline grabbed a candle from the kitchenette and lit it, letting the mellow aroma fill the room.

“Don’t like that industrial disinfectant smell?” The Doctor joked as the flickering candle reflected off of Schwarz’s pupils.

“I’m not bothered by it. But I don’t like this room specifically smelling like a factory.”

“Something like a sanctuary to you, huh? I understand that.” The Doctor eyed the tea set again. He was feeling a little thirsty, and he wanted to see Schwarz’s room, not Ceylon’s. This might give him an opportunity. He sat down next to a table close to the window. “Since we’re here, why don’t we have some tea? I heard you’re quite good at brewing it.”

Schwarz nodded. “Do you have a preference?”

“Hmm…What’s your favorite?”

“Ceylon likes the green tea leaves we have. I’ll go prepare some right away.” The Doctor put his hand up to stop her.

“I’ll be sure to have that whenever I meet her again. Now, why don’t we have your favorite?”

“Doctor, there wouldn’t be any difference.”

“So you like those as well?” The Feline nodded, but was still perplexed by the man’s actions. The Doctor shrugged and leaned back.

“Alright. So long as you acknowledge you like them. Go ahead.”

The sniper turned around, still slightly confused. Her hesitation dissipated, however, once she began the same routine she has done daily for so many years. A strainer and teapot were as familiar to her as a crossbow. Given the Doctor’s general appetite, she put in slightly more leaves and water than usual, just in case. While the tea steeped, Schwarz began setting everything up.

“You’re quite good at this.” The Doctor remarked, earning him a bashful smile from the Feline.

“Thank you.” With precision, she laid down the saucers and cups with only a small clink. “Ceylon once said that, should I ever tire of fighting, I could make a living hosting a cafe.”

“That’s some high praise. There are plenty of people from Yan and Higashi that like organizing tea parties. If you want, you could always try your skills out with them.”

“I’m not that familiar with more ceremonial occasions.” Schwarz sighed wistfully and she bobbed the strainer up and down. “I have only ever served Miss Ceylon and her father.”

“Fair enough.” The Doctor waited for Schwarz to fill his cup, exactly to the red line near the very top. The moment the yellow-green liquid stopped flowing, the Doctor picked up his cup and drank deeply.

“Ah, wait! Doctor, it’s still quite hot!” Schwarz’s yellow eyes widened in fright. The Doctor happily gulped down his drink and set the cup back down. The Feline stared at the man, unsure of what just happened.

“This is quite good.” The Doctor remarked as he took another gulp of the steaming hot drink. “Way better than how I usually do it.”

“D-doctor…” Was all Schwarz could muster. She had only ever seen someone do that once in her life. When Ceylon was still a young girl, she had been too impatient to wait for her tea to cool. A scalded mouth quickly deterred her from trying that ever again. And here was the Doctor who not only flinched but could apparently judge the taste.

“Then again, my own method is usually to just cram a teabag into my mouth and pour water into it.” The man froze as he felt hands clamp down on his shoulders. Schwarz’s nails dug into his skin like claws.

“Doctor. I might not understand your physical capabilities,” Schwarz uttered coldly. The Doctor shivered, this tone of hers was usually reserved for the battlefield. “But if you are going to drink tea, at least take the time to do so properly. Understood?”

He nodded slowly, and the pressure on his shoulders was lifted. “Good.”

Schwarz sat down and took a small sip of her own tea. For a while, neither of them said anything. They simply sat there, drinking and bathing in the sun peeking in through the window. The Feline was attentive as always, refilling the Doctor’s cup whenever it emptied.

“Doctor, I’ve been meaning to ask.” Schwarz started pensively. “Has Miss Ceylon learned anything?”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About me. Do you remember that one night, when I got drunk and told you…everything. Only you know the full extent. Even her father doesn’t know every detail.”

The Feline looked out the window glumly. “But, she has looked at me differently as of late. More concerned. Has my past somehow come into conversation while she’s studied under you?”

“This again? No. I haven’t talked about your past with anyone else. You trusted me. I’ll repay that. As for why Ceylon is behaving differently…Well, it’s probably exposure to the other operators.”

Schwarz’s ears twitched as she set down her teacup again. “In many ways, she’s still very ignorant of the world at large, but her time here has filled in the gaps. The young miss has met quite a few people that have reminded her of you. And they’re a bit more candid about their past than you are usually.”

Schwarz stared at the ripples in her tea as the Doctor continued. Perhaps it was simply sisterly protectiveness, but the Feline couldn’t help but feel worried for the young lady. She was an adult now, she was entitled to make her own choices. But, a part of Schwarz still desperately wished that Ceylon would not have to face the hardships of the outside world.

“Ceylon puts on a brave face at times. But deep down, she’s got what it takes.” The Doctor smiled proudly. “She’s more perceptive than you think she is. She might not know your past exactly, but she’s got an idea. Honestly, it’s a good thing she grew up with you. Most of the operators from more peaceful or sheltered upbringings have a hard time grasping how grim the world can be at first. It’s certainly led to tensions when they meet coworkers from rougher walks of life. Ceylon, though, I’ve never seen her balk at the more…let’s say pragmatic, operators. And I think we have you to thank for that.”

“I see.” Schwarz sighed and gave the Doctor a tired grin. “You and her are far too alike. Just like her, I’d rather you not bloody your hands. Not while someone like me can do it with ease.”

“Heh. I think my hands are far bloodier than yours by a long shot.” As the Doctor finished the last of his tea, Schwarz began cleaning up. Nonetheless, the way she silently cleared the table indicated that she was paying rapt attention. “Out in the field, I’m the leader. People live or die based on my decisions. The order to kill, the order to fight, those are decisions I’m responsible for.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask about that. How did a doctor become head strategist?”

“There’s no secret to it. I was just so good at ‘conflict resolution’ that it became my primary role. And when you’re dealing with something like oripathy and the infected, there’s conflict aplenty.”

The Doctor chuckled mischievously to himself. Perhaps now would be a good time to appeal to Schwarz’s sense of duty. Despite all her cold ruthlessness, the Doctor knew that there was still some kindness left in her heart. “Y’know, something just crossed my mind. You might not have realized it, but a lot of the newer snipers look up to you quite a bit. Ever think about mentoring some of them?”

Schwarz turned around and grunted in confusion. Her hands, which were previously washing a coaster with a sponge, came to a complete stop.

“I…don’t think I’m the best role model.” she said hesitantly.

“I don’t mean to criticize, but you really don’t know how you appear to others. Look, you’ve got more experience than most of the regular operators, and you’ve got a kinship with Ceylon that I’ve seen twins jealous of. Suffice to say, more than a few people have been inspired by you.”

“If they knew how incongruous I was with Rhodes beliefs, would they still admire me?” Schwarz shot a cold look at the Doctor, who brushed it off with a smile.

“So are many of them. A lot of these operators are only here for treatment, nothing more. And a lot of them grew up in hardship. That’s why they admire you in the first place.”

The Feline raised an eyebrow in confusion. Why her of all people? To anyone else, she must have seemed like a retainer some rich family took pity on.

“These young operators, all they see is a fellow infected. One that’s not only strong, but also has close family willing to stay by them. One that is capable of protecting herself and those she loves. One that managed to overcome the misfortune that life allotted for her. For many of the recruits suffering from that accursed disease, who had their entire lives stripped away from them, that’s one hell of an inspiration. When they see you, they think that maybe they’ll be able to rebuild themselves one day. You don’t have to take any of them under your wing, but it wouldn’t hurt to advise them every once in a while. Give them something to aspire to.”

“Hmm…I’ll consider it.” Schwarz replied nonchalantly as she shrugged. The Doctor grinned to himself. That was as close to an affirmative as he was probably going to get.

The door slid open as Ceylon entered the room. “Oh, Doctor. Schwarz. Am I interrupting something?”

“No, you’re good.” The Doctor said casually as he got up and stretched. “We were just about done talking anyways, so I’ll leave you two alone.”

As the Doctor’s footfalls went out of earshot, Ceylon walked over to her big sister and gave her a big hug.

“M-miss Ceylon, is everything alright?” The Feline stood there as if petrified. After so many years of deliberately avoiding contact with each other, Ceylon’s new cuddlebug nature still caught Schwarz off guard.

“Hehe. My time with Weedy earlier made me think. I have been distant from you lately, so think of this as an apology.”

“Please, there is no need. We’ve both been busy in our duties but…” The Feline stopped herself and hugged the Liberi back. “If something is ever troubling you, I’m always here to listen.”

“Of course you will. You’ll always be there.” As Ceylon broke her hug, her eyes caught sight of the dolls resting in the sniper’s bed. “What are these, when did you get these? They look just like us!”

“A-a while ago.” Schwarz replied as she hid her face in her scarf yet again, this time furiously blushing as her sister doted on the small replicas.

“They’re so cute! Say, why don’t we try sleeping in the same bed tonight, just like your dolls are doing now?”

Schwarz couldn’t say anything. Her only response was to blush even harder as her eyes widened.

“Remember when I was young and always got scared of storms? You would always sit by my bed until I fell asleep. A part of me always wanted you to hold me whenever the thunderclaps shook the windows. Now that I know you can’t infect me just from close contact, why don’t we make up for it?”

Ceylon’s angelic smile was too much for Schwarz to handle, and so the Feline found herself obediently nodding. Despite her own reservations, a warmness spread through her chest.

---

Dobermann gnashed her teeth as she watched the trainee patch up a gash running across his forehead.

“And what did we learn today?” The instructor asked.

“W-we shouldn’t try to copy a technique we just saw for the first time.” The young man replied sheepishly.

“Precisely. First, you worry about learning fundamentals. After you’ve accrued enough experience, then and only then should you even consider trying to emulate techniques without instruction.” As the instructor’s lecture continued on, Schwarz suddenly came over. Kneeling down, the Feline grabbed the bloody gauze from the trainee.

“You need remedial first aid training as well.” Schwarz tersely reprimanded as she put one hand on the back of the man’s head and used the other to push the gauze down. “Push on an open wound to stem the bleeding. Alright?”

The trainee gave a slight nod as he took hold of the gauze again. Schwarz walked away. The sniper suddenly stopped and turned to face Dobermann.

“By the way, I’m buying rounds at that one bar near the trade depot. You’re welcome to join.”

“What’s the occasion?”

The Feline shrugged as she slung her crossbow on her back. “Just happened to get a bonus recently. Have nothing to spend it on.”

“I’m game.” The trainee’s words caused Dobermann to scowl.

“Absolutely not. Not until you’re finished with basic drills.”

---

Subject: New maintenance routines

From: Closure

To: Boiler team

Sup team,

Thanks to the efforts of a certain panther, we’ve managed to identify several structural weaknesses in the lower deck. They’re not at risk of tearing the ship apart, but they could be a problem if we end up running into choppy weather. Or be used by stowaways to infiltrate our ship. So, I went ahead and ordered more materials to patch up the hulls and bulkheads. Attached is a schedule.

Closure

---

“So what do you think?” The Doctor asked as he watched Kal’tsit read through his proposal. “It’s been quite fruitful so far, expanding the pool of potential candidates should be within our capacity now. If Ifrit of all people was positively impacted with minimal difficulty, then a lot of our patients and employees would benefit.”

“Incorporating the room-swap program into our general rehabilitation procedures.” Kal’tsit tapped a pen against her cheek as she considered the Doctor’s suggestion.

“Rekindling a sense of normalcy in our patients is important. Alienation and disruption to daily life often generates anxiety. Developing a sense of community and solidarity would do wonders not just for the infected, but also many others. A lot of our operators are quite…eccentric. Interacting with others in a safe and friendly environment could be a great supplement to their usual treatment.”

“Perhaps. But structured interaction does lack a genuineness that normal friendships possess.”

“For some, that might be a benefit. A lot of people here aren’t great at candid conversation. Having someone else arrange the first step for them might be what they need to nudge them out of their comfort zone.”

Doctor Kal’tsit scrunched her face before nodding. “Very well. I’ll advise Amiya to relax the requirements for entering the program. Although the criteria might be low to begin with. Just be prudent with matches, Doctor. Even a single bad experience could poison people’s opinions.”

The Doctor groaned as he looked at the lengthy list of emails he had written for the past two samples. “Don’t I know that. I really need to offload the advising part to someone else.”

The Feline smiled knowingly. “Unfortunately, there’s no one that understands each and every operator like you, Doctor.”

---

Chapter Text

Cliffheart fidgeted around in her chair, leaning her head against the backrest as she watched her two friends casually flip through their magazines.

“Err, don’t you two want to do anything else?” She asked casually. Frostleaf and Ambriel looked up briefly before resuming their reading.

“Eh? Chilling out like this is fine, ain’t it?” The Sankta lazily remarked. Frostleaf nodded, putting her headphones onto her ears again.

“Hey, this band here looks pretty cool, doesn’t it?” The Sankta held her magazine out to Frostleaf, who nodded in turn.

The Feline pouted, eliciting a giggle from Ambriel. “Shouldn’t make you feel left out if you don’t wanna read. How ‘bout we watch a movie instead?”

“What about?” Frostleaf asked as she took her headphones off again.

“Hmm…Ah. I know one.” Ambriel said as she fiddled with a remote. “Adventure comedy. Even has a climbing scene for dear ol’ Cliffheart over here.”

“Guess I gotta judge the accuracy now, don’t I?”

---

Jessica munched happily as her forked hovered near her mouth, ready to devour another piece of cake as soon as she was finished. Her tail swished behind her, her mouth stained blue from the frosting.

“Hehehe. Would you like some more, Jessica?” Blue Poison grinned heartily as she put another slice onto a plate for the Feline. “At this point, I’ll have to bake another batch.”

“Ah! I’m sorry.” Jessica stared remorsefully at the pile of dirty plates building up on the other side of the table. “I wasn’t keeping track of how much I was eating and…”

Blue Poison pat her on the head. “Don’t worry. I’m very happy. Most people never try in the first place. When you’ve had your fill, we can clean it up together.”

With her reassuring words, Jessica continued eating happily while Blue Poison watched over her. The Anura’s gaze was mildly discomforting, so Jessica soon stopped.

“Don’t mind me. I was just thinking. After we finish cleaning up, do you want to go to the trade depot and try on some clothes?”

“Huh?”

“There were some outfits I saw there a few days ago that I thought would look cute on you.”

The Feline blushed.

“How much do you feel like spending? If it’s not much, that’s fine. I’ll make sure to pick a really standout outfit.”

The Anura leaned in as Jessica whispered a number into her ear. Blue Poison’s eyes widened, her mouth agape as she tried to comprehend what she just heard.

---

The crash of symbols and drumsticks resounded through Vigna’s room as Vermeil played around with a drumset. There was no rhythm or pattern to it, but the young Vulpo was putting her all into it all the same.

“Heh. Knew you’d like percussion. A sniper like you’s got the arm strength for it for sure.” The redheaded Sarkaz nodded smugly to herself. “Now to work on keeping to the beat.”

“Sure is loud, though.” Vermeil remarked as she rubbed the ears on top of her head. It reminded her a little of a falling tree. Or the clanging or Ursus weapons. The last memory brought a scowl to her face.

“I get it. It’s not for everyone. Still, loud music’s great for raging out all that negativity inside you. Sometimes you just gotta wail out your sorrows, ya know?”

“I guess.” The little Vulpo smirked deviously. “Feels weird getting advice from someone shorter than me though.”

“Oi! The hell you just say?!”

An unusual cacophony could be heard in Vigna’s room that afternoon. Although her neighbors were used to it by this point.

---

“Please do not stay so close to me.” Weedy calmly stated as Ceylon backed up. The Doctor had already warned the Liberi about how germophobic Weedy was, but actually seeing it was another thing.

Ceylon balled her fists for a moment before she took a deep breath. The Doctor had said that while Weedy was blunt at times, she didn’t say such things maliciously. The Aegir even complemented Ceylon for how neat her clothes were when they first met. Perhaps she was simply an eccentric researcher, of which there were plenty.

“One more thing.” Weedy started as she sprayed herself down. The scent had a bizarre synthetic fruitiness to it. She then held the can out for Ceylon. “Please decontaminate yourself. It’s just a precaution.”

Ceylon coughed lightly as she sprayed herself with Weedy’s disinfectant. “Um, Miss Weedy. Is this really necessary?”

The Aegir scrutinized her apologetically. “Apologies, my constitution is fairly weak. I’d rather not risk any pathogens in my personal space.”

“Oh, it’s not a big issue. It’s just…” Ceylon trailed off as she fixed her clothes. Weedy seemed like a good person, but her avoidant behavior hearkened to a certain type of person Ceylon was quite familiar with during her study of originium. It reminded Ceylon uncomfortably of how some people saw Schwarz.

“You’re wondering if I’m afraid of the infected?” Weedy bluntly asked. The Liberi tried to stammer out a response.

“I follow scientific protocol first and foremost.” Weedy replied emotionlessly as she crossed her arms. “There is no evidence that oripathy is infectious through pathogenic means. In that regard, infected persons are a non-hazard compared to industrial grade originium. Or worse, people that don’t wash their hands. So long as people keep themselves tidy, I have no concerns. Shall we?”

As the Liberi entered Weedy’s room, it was as she expected. Very neat. Not a single speck of dust on anything and every surface that could be reflective was polished to a mirror sheen. A shelf was fully stocked with many different types of cleaning chemicals, including a few that Weedy had apparently synthesized herself if the labels were anything to go by. A nearby workbench had tools lined up parallel to each other. Even her bionic seadragon was resting in line with everything else.

“Oh, is this your pet that I always see flying with you?”

Weedy nodded. “You’re welcome to take a look at Leaf and touch him, so long as you’re careful.”

Ceylon picked the small creature up, cradling it in her hands like a baby bird. The little seadragon was strange. Parts of Leaf were similar to the drones she always saw flying around. Blocky, hard, and mechanical. Other parts appeared more organic in nature. Soft and smooth. What exactly was Leaf?

“Leaf is…hmm. It’s hard to explain bioengineering sometimes. He was something I made from my family’s designs.”

“Oh, so this is something that’s been passed down then?” Ceylon had heard rumors in school that Iberia possessed advanced technology, but always dismissed them as mere fantasy. Perhaps there was a kernel of truth to it after all.

“Yes. If you want, I can share the designs with you. With some instruction and the proper materials, anyone can make a bionic seadragon.”

“Huh?! It’s that easy? A-anyways, I’ll have to pass. I’m already busy with originium research as is. Although…” The Liberi tugged at the cloth covering Leaf’s body. “I think I saw this little one wearing a costume at the last holiday party.”

Weedy grunted in acknowledgment. “Someone made it for him. It seemed fitting for the environment.”

“Then, do you mind if I try my hand at it? I know a little bit of sewing, and he would look so cute in different outfits.”

Weedy tilted her head before shrugging. The happy gleam in her red eyes gave Ceylon all she needed to know. “If you wish.”

---

Bang! Click. Bang!

“Yo! This is sweet!” Exusiai flashed a toothy smile as she inspected the pockmarked target. Aside from a few critiques about her form, Executor had remained as emotionless as ever as he watched the redhead fire his shotgun with reckless abandon. “Sure you don’t wanna try out my gun?”

“I am already experienced in the usage of submachine guns. Additional practice is unnecessary.”

“That’s not the point, taxman. Feels good to let loose a few rounds every once in a while.” Exusiai laughed as she shoved more shells into Executor’s weapon of choice. She’ll readily admit that she only agreed to pair up with him so she could shoot his guns, no matter how many other women on board seemed googly-eyed for the guy. The man was the very image of a stuffy government bureaucrat. Not a bad person by any stretch, but a dull killjoy if there ever was one. Even when asked why he bothered signing up in the first place, his only response was that this was the only way Vermeil could be convinced to sign up. And then when she asked why that mattered, he replied that it was simply executing the will of the Notarial Hall, whatever that meant.

“Perhaps I should institute a consumption tax for all ammunition used, then.” Executor dryly stated. This in turn caused Exusiai to flinch, her shot blasting the ceiling instead. “Be mindful of improper discharge.”

The redhead puffed her cheeks as she stared back at Executor, who was still as unflappable as ever. Just after she fire her next shot, an idea came to her head. Using one hand, she pulled the trigger again. Catching the ring lever with her hand, Exusiai tried to twirl it around, just like she saw in a movie. Just like Executor did in the field.

“Ow!” The redheaded Sankta winced as the barrel smacked her in the head. The firearm itself tumbled into Executor’s outstretched hand. If the man had any feelings about what just happened, he didn’t show it.

“Is your hand unharmed?” He asked. Exusiai shook hers limply a few times, letting the minor pain fade away before giving him a thumbs up.

“If you wish to perform something like that, you must have proper technique.” Executor stated as he flawlessly performed the spin-cock.

“Never figured a guy like you would use a flashy move like that.”

“Flashy? It is a necessary technique.”

“Huh?”

“There is no other way to chamber new rounds when I dual wield.”

“Okaaay then.” How did he reload, though? The Sankta woman shrugged. Knowing him, the answer would probably be “after everyone is dead.” “Say, I just had a thought. How come you get to have two guns? I’ve been trying to get more, but they’re all so pricey.”

“If you require additional firepower, I am willing to pass a message along to the proper authorities. If proper cause is found, armaments may be issued without personal expenditure. We will need to audit your activities with Penguin Logistics, however.”

“Ack! Nevermind. I’ll just keep saving up.”

“Very well. I shall rescind my offer.” The male Sankta pushed the lever, ejecting the final shell from his gun. He stared at the range, facing away from his fellow Sankta, for a moment. “By the way, if you cannot find time to visit your sister, writing to her more often would be recommended. A call every now and again would also be welcome.”

“Oh? Is this also a request from the Notarial Hall?” Exusiai grinned teasingly.

“No.” Executor flatly answered. “Simply the perspective of one who also has a relative he has not seen for a long time.”

“O-oh.” The redhead looked down at her feet. Not for long, though, as her usual candor returned. She slapped the man on the back, only for him to not flinch at all from the gesture. “Heh. Who knew you had such a soft spot.”

---

Phase Three Groupings

Absinthe-Shamare

Beeswax-Estelle

Cutter-Akafuyu

Beanstalk-Vanilla

Astesia-Mayer

Tequila-Ambriel

Gitano-Myrtle

Warfarin-Heavyrain- Doctor

Franka-Liskarm-Glaucus

Scene-La Pluma-Manticore

---

“Do you truly believe this to be a good idea, Doctor?” Kal’tsit stared at her tablet skeptically. “I understand that you have the capacity to veto any arrangement you deem dangerous, perhaps you should assign yourself to a different group.”

“Do you want Warfarin alone with anyone?” The Doctor asked rhetorically. “The only people we know that are both assertive enough and attentive enough to keep her in check are Franka and Liskarm, and we’ve already asked a lot from them as is. They deserve a chance to kick back and hang out for once.”

“Ah, so that’s why the two are together.” The green haired Feline sighed. “Just be certain to never bleed in her presence. She can keep herself restrained, provided you don’t offer a tantalizing target.”

“I’m not that stupid. Don’t worry, I’ve gotten good at these meetups. Everything should be perfectly fine.”

----

Chapter Text

Absinthe leaned against a wall as she scrutinized the young Vulpo currently eyeing the things in the Ursus’ room. Shamare maintained the usual emotionless glare she had since the moment the two of them met up. It was strange. Zoya was a full head taller than the girl, but it always felt like Shamare was somehow looking down on her constantly. The only movement from Shamare, aside from the craning of her head, was the tightening of her arms around her doll.

“Morte, behave yourself.” The girl scolded. Absinthe swore that she saw the knife in the thing’s hand move, but it might have just been Shamare jostling it around. Why did a doll have a knife to begin with? Hopefully it was a fake.

“…Any thoughts?” Zoya asked, voice barely above a whisper. She was no good at this. Children should be bright, cheery and carefree. Shamare was the exact opposite of that. Dour, serious, and seemingly carrying as much weight as Absinthe was. As any child of Chernobog was. None of this was Shamare’s fault, but Zoya was barely able to keep her own spirits up. Why did HR think this was a good idea? The bear had no clue how to interact with Shamare as an equal, let alone her elder. She never approached the USSG for that specific reason.

“Morte, calm down. Or I’m not patching you up the next time you rip yourself.” Shamare once again scolded her doll, seemingly ignoring her companion entirely. The doll itself certainly did not appear to move to Absinthe’s eyes. Heck, the only movement was probably from Shamare constantly shaking it in her arms. As the caster looked down at her feet, Shamare glanced over to her.

“This place…” The pink-haired Vulpo began, “…Morte is having a gluttonous feast in your room. Apologies for his rudeness. He’s usually better than this.”

“It’s no problem?” Absinthe replied in confusion. The Doctor had mentioned something like this. How the girl was very superstitious, more so than the average child. And how she often used her doll as a coping mechanism. But how had Shamare figured out her own sorrows? The Doctor must have sat her down and explained, that was probably it. She knelt down until she was eye level with the Vulpo girl. “Um, what does your friend eat?”

“Morte likes vile emotions. Sadness. Regret. Bitterness. Fear.” Shamare rattled off, seemingly bored at having to explain all this.

“I see.” Zoya certainly had many of those. Shamare shoved the doll into her face. Zoya took a closer look at Morte. The doll was in rough shape. Underneath the coils of string was a patchwork skin that seemed like it was barely holding on. Its hand somehow squished around the handle of a knife. Was it some clever sewing that allowed it to do so?

“If you want, Morte can swallow up everything haunting you. That way, you can be like me and not feel sad all the time.”

“T-thank you, but I’ll be fine.” Absinthe suppressed a confused chuckle as she gently pushed Morte away. The Ursus flashed a small smile as Shamare held the doll limply with one hand, the thing’s knife scraping against the metal floor. Absinthe supposed that was Shamare’s way of comforting her. Weird as it was, it was appreciated.

“Are you sure? Evil spirits may occasionally take leave, but they always return.” Shamare remarked forebodingly. Absinthe noticed her room was a bit dimmer. Strange, it was still early afternoon, and the sky outside her window was as clear as could be. Maybe the lights were just wearing out. She should file for a replacement soon.

Before Absinthe could give a reply, Shamare turned away, apparently fixated on something else. The young Vulpo laid on the ground, using her free hand to pull a case out from underneath Absinthe’s bed. The bear’s eyes widened as she grabbed onto Shamare’s shoulders.

“Please…that’s under there for a reason.” Absinthe said shakily. Her pulse quickened as she unwittingly tightened her fingers. Shamare refused to look at her, but the girl’s hands froze at the very least. “What’s inside there…is very personal. I’m not comfortable sharing that with strangers.”

Shamare gave a curt nod, but kept her hands on the case. “My apologies. But the contents of this, it is profoundly haunted.”

“I-I see.” Inside were all the things that once belonged to her father. The personal effects he brought along with him every day to work. Zoya had retrieved it on that fateful day. And then sealed it all away, never to look at it ever since. She gulped, the saliva struggling to go down her throat as memories crept up. She thought she had become strong enough, but the way her heart ached proved otherwise. No, even after all this time, with all this training, she still couldn’t confront the past.

“As I suspected. This is a grave source of maladies.” Shamare stoically noted as if she was a doctor diagnosing a physical ailment. She set Morte down and pulled a small book out of her dress. “Very well. I can perform a small ritual to mute its effects, although to permanently seal it away will require far more time. Morte, go and fetch some reagents.”

“I don’t think this is an issue a ritual can solve.” Zoya grimly remarked as she pushed the case underneath her bed again. One day, she promised herself. One day, she could find the courage to look through everything again. But not today sadly. “Besides, even if a ritual helped, I…wouldn’t want to do so.”

Shamare picked up Morte again before looking at her companion with confusion. Absinthe was taken aback at the sudden change in expression. It was downright childlike in it’s innocence. As if Shamare couldn’t understand her response.

“Nothing good comes from having curses linger.” Shamare stated quietly. The Vulpo looked down. Suddenly, Absinthe felt compelled to pat the young girl on the head. As she did so, Shamare didn’t stir aside from a little fidgeting.

“It’s difficult to explained. My memories tied to that object…is something of a double-edged sword. You know what that is?”

Shamare nodded as Absinthe continued ruffling her hair. While she had her usual glare, the Vulpo made no attempt to stop the Ursus. “I will agree, that thing causes me a great deal of grief. But, it also reminds me why I fight. And…it’s one of the last things I have from him. I know you were worried about me, so thank you for that.”

Shamare’s cheeks took on a slightly pink tinge as she began to mumble. “M-Morte, you’re being indolent again. Hmm? You don’t want to take away these feelings. Hmph. F-fine. I’ll forgive this moment of sloth.”

Absinthe chuckled soundlessly as she withdrew her hand. Perhaps she can deal with Shamare after all. She certainly isn’t as sinister as all the rumors flying around make her out to be. In many ways, she wasn’t that different from the average girl. Unfortunately for Absinthe, this once again also extended to being distracted by whatever caught her interest. In this case, to the revolver-cum-wand Absinthe had lying on her desk.

“Shamare, please by careful with that. I know you fight with Arts as well, but that device is very volatile.” Shamare ignored her as the Vulpo picked up the wand and appraised it. She rolled it around, tracing the revolving chamber built into it before nodding to herself.

“This device, as spirit-touched as everything else in this room.” She held it in front of Morte, as if the doll could appraise it as well. “I will not ward it, as it has the same energy as that case. But, there is still something I want to do. This ritual will require preparation. It is best to do so in my room, so it would be best if we move our conversation there.”

“O-okay.” Absinthe was unsure how to reply. The Vulpo was quite knowledgeable about the occult, but Absinthe placed little stock in that. Arts were a proven phenomenon, while curses, blessings, and witchcraft weren’t. Even so-called “Sarkaz witchcraft” was just an esoteric form of Arts if the many Sarkaz at Rhodes Island were any indication. The device was delicate as is, but Shamare was clearly just trying to be helpful. At worst, Shamare might smear a few things onto her wand that Mister Thorns could easily remove again. At best, it was a harmless placebo. And thus she acquiesced. “You’re very considerate, aren’t you?”

“S-silence. This is merely to sate my own curiosity.” The Ursus walked down the halls, following after the huffing young Vulpo. A few passerby’s gave them a bewildered look, but she simply shrugged it off. Purestream would tell her about all the new rumors soon enough.

---

Shamare’s abode was tame compared to the image Absinthe had in mind. Perhaps her imagination had been affected by all the rumors flying around. She fancied that Shamare’s door would in fact be a portal to a pocket dimension, but alas, her room was as mundane as any other. There were certainly things that screamed occult, though. Such as the various charms hanging on the girl’s ceiling. A chime made of what appeared to be fowlbeast bones clattered as the door sealed shut. A black stone with a painted-on eye hung on a lamppost. An ornate glass fruitbowl rested on her desk, filled to the brim with red apples and other assorted produce.

“Morte, give our guest a gift.” Shamare commanded as she dropped her doll to the floor. Within moments, the thing scrambled across the floor, climbed up a chair, and used its free hand to pick up an apple. Absinthe studied its movements carefully. It couldn’t move its legs as easily as a normal person, opting instead to bounce on one at a time when it wanted to move quickly. Perhaps this was just Arts. She had felt a trace of originium in it, so this might just be Shamare showing off a trick. As such, she stayed quiet as the doll trotted up to her and tapped an apple onto her knee.

“Thank you, Morte.” Absinthe replied as she humored Shamare’s little trick. The little doll clambered up the chair again to retrieve another apple for its master. A wet crunch filled Absinthe’s ears as she took a bite. The fruit was juicy and sweet without being too overbearing. These must have been picked recently, given how fresh they were.

“These came from the Convalescent Garden.” Shamare nibbled on an apple herself. “It is a good source for reagents.”

“Reagents, huh?” Absinthe mainly used the Convalescent Garden to relax, most of the herbal stuff flying straight over her head. Despite the crunchy exterior, the insides were just the right amount of softness without being mushy. As she enjoyed her snack, the Ursus glanced at a drawing hanging on Shamare’s wall. It was rather crude. A crayon drawing made on plain white paper was sealed in a golden picture frame much to ornate for it. From what Absinthe could make out, there was a scribbling of a person with pink hair, probably Shamare. Then another person with blonde hair and loads of tails, that might have been Suzuran. And then someone else with lilac hair. All three of them were holding hands and smiling, an expression uncharacteristic of the Shamare Absinthe had become accustomed to.

“Is this a gift?” Absinthe asked casually. Shamare pouted as she bit into her apple again.

“Popukar made it. And insisted on giving it to me.”

Absinthe raised an eyebrow as Shamare glanced aside.

“It’s not good to disappoint children.”

“This is coming from you?” Absinthe thought to herself.

Using her stained fingers, Shamare smeared apple juice onto the floor. Absinthe looked on in concern, swiveling her head around in search of cleaning supplies. If Shamare did this regularly, her room must attract an endless horde of pests. The Vulpo moved behind her desk and pulled out large plastic sheets. Taking a closer look, Zoya realized that they had lines cut out of them, like large stencil mats. And the patterns certainly looked stereotypically occult.

“Who made those?”

“An astrologer working here.” Shamare remarked as she set a stencil down on the piece of floor she had just made sticky. “Perhaps she saw a kindred spirit. I am perfectly competent at setting sigils up without aide, but they do make the process faster. If you like, you can help in this stage. This tool makes creation a simple affair.”

When she started this, Absinthe never thought she’d get involved in a ritual of all things. Reading the labels on a box of chalk, there didn’t seem to be anything that dangerous or exotic. It was just normal, safe, chalk. The Ursus shrugged to herself as she filled in the lines of the stencil. Perhaps she was a little too old to simply color in the lines, but it was therapeutic all the same watching the lines slowly turn white as chalk scraped against metal. And occasionally apple juice. She would have to wash her hands after all this was over.

“Good job.” Shamare peeled the stencil off the floor with a squelch. The Vulpo pinched her fingertips together in annoyance, but continued gathering the necessary items, rattling off what they were to her compatriot. Skull of a cystybeast. A wooden She-Wolf idol. Rice grains. Two apple cores. And many other miscellany. Absinthe couldn’t make heads or tails of it, and Shamare didn’t seem inclined to explain. As the girl finished aligning all her ritual components, she stretched out her hand.

“Your wand.” She stated bluntly. Absinthe ran her fingers along the device protectively before pressing it into Shamare’s outstretched palm. As the pink-haired girl placed the wand in the center of her circle, her face scrunched. She tilted it every which way, trying to adjust for its unconventional shape. Eventually, she simply sighed and let it be.

“So what happens now?” Absinthe asked as she stared intently at the ritual circle. Usually, in movies and comics, things would start glowing any moment now. Shamare ignored her as the girl placed Morte into the circle as well. She knelt just outside the circle, staring intently at it. The room was dead silent aside from the ticking of a clock. Absinthe looked around the room again, unsure of what to do.

“Done.” After a few minutes, Shamare piped up. She picked up the wand, running her hands along it to make sure it wasn’t dirty.

“O-oh.” Absinthe cradled the wand in her hands. It didn’t feel any different, but she would still need to test it out later.

“Are you disappointed?” Shamare asked nonchalantly. “It’s fine. Media oft exaggerates these rituals. But I assure you, it was a success.”

“So what does it do?”

“You said you did not wish to remove the spirits that haunt your possessions, so I simply put a charm on instead. Thus, the spirits should be compelled to protect you, for as long as the charm lasts at least.” Shamare raised an eyebrow as she saw Absinthe staring longingly at her weapon. “Hmm? Is something wrong?”

“Huh? Oh! No. Pay no mind to it.” Absinthe stammered out as she wiped the corners of her eyes. It was probably just superstition, but maybe, on the off chance that Shamare’s witchcraft did work…It would at least be a comforting thought. “Thank you, Shamare.”

“Mmm.” The little Vulpo pouted as she got patted on the head yet again. Not even the Doctor was this touchy. But, it wasn’t a bad feeling. Morte seemed to enjoy it as well. Speaking off, the doll trotted out of the circle and hugged its master’s leg. Shamare casually picked it up and turned it upside down, sighing all the while.

“Morte, how did you manage to rip yourself this time?”

“Oh dear. Um, would you like some help?”

Shamare shook her head. “Morte doesn’t like it when others stitch him up. Not since the last time they replaced all his stuffing. If you want, you can clean up the ritual. It’s always a hassle, so it would be much appreciated.”

Absinthe gave her friend a nod and a slight smile as she got to work wiping down the floor. “By the way, Shamare. Do any rituals glow like they do in shows?”

“Not to the same extent. But if you turn off the lights, they occasionally let off a glow.” Shamare stated matter-of-factly.

“…I see.” The Vulpo had to be messing with her. Then again, perhaps she would get to see it in the future. For all the rumors of Shamare being a source of misfortune, the girl seemed harmless enough. Somewhat stoic and distant, but so was Absinthe. In the end, she seemed like a nice enough girl. Perhaps Absinthe would get to see more witchcraft in the future.

“Say, Shamare…” Absinthe paused as she craned her neck to look at the Vulpo quietly sewing her doll. Shamare didn’t stir, but a twitch of her ears indicated that she was listening. “Is Morte, like my wand?”

“Please elaborate.”

“Um. Did you also…get it from someone close?” Shamare looked up from her work and stared at Absinthe. There was no malice in her face, but Zoya felt chills run down her spine all the same.

“It’s better if such knowledge remains buried.”

“I-I see. Sorry for bringing it up.” The Ursus bowed her head apologetically. Right. What was she thinking? One afternoon hanging out didn’t make them the closest of friends. And it wasn’t like she was opening up all that much either.

“It doesn’t really matter.” Shamare continued her sewing work, plunging the needle into Morte with such force that it looked like she was stabbing the poor doll. “All spirits and memories can do is haunt. They cannot hurt you if you learn to not let them.”

“But fortune and fate, on the other hand, those can hurt. Agony beyond measure follows them.”

“Then, what is my fortune?” Absinthe asked casually. Shamare seemed like the honest sort. There were a bunch of folks at Rhodes that did fortune telling as a hobby. Crystal balls, palm readings, tarot, oracle bones and the like. She figured they were all just telling her what she wanted to hear. But Shamare was different somehow.

“Without a proper ritual, I cannot give you an exact divination.” Shamare replied as she tossed her doll around. “The spirits simply tell me that you fate for the future is…colored.”

“Colored?”

The Vulpo shrugged. “Some good. Some bad. As I said before, I cannot parse any details without proper preparation. The only visions that do not require as such are great calamities, so at least such things are not on the horizon for you it seems.”

“No need. That’s good enough for me.” Absinthe smiled to herself as she continued wiping the floor clean of apple juice. After everything she went through, some minor toss and turns seemed a leisurely course. One day, she swore, she’ll learn to silence her own haunts. Perhaps with a little help from her new friend.

---

“Hey, Sinthe! You got a package!” Purestream cried out as she carried a small box into her friend’s room. Zoya tilted her head in confusion. She didn’t remember ordering anything. And nobody aside from Purestream ever gave her any gifts regularly. The Ursus took the cardboard box, just slightly larger than her hands, from her friend. Opening the flap, she pulled out a small doll that fit into the palm of her hand. It looked rough at a glance, stitches crisscrossing its skin.

“Woah. A bit creepy, isn’t it?” Purestream commented as she leaned in to stare at the doll. Absinthe paid her friend no mind as she pulled out a letter. She had a good guess about who sent this. She squinted as she brought it closer to her face. The penmanship was refined, far more refined than she expected from Shamare. It was even in cursive, something that Absinthe certainly couldn’t do.

“Zoya,

I hope good fortunes have come to you. Many thanks for tolerating my habits the other day. I understand that I can be unsettling to many. As recompense, have a miniature replica of Morte. If you find yourself haunted in slumber, keep him close. The nightmares will be devoured, and you will have peace.”

“Eh. Is that a smile I see on your face?” Purestream beamed as she poked her Ursus friend in the cheek.

“S-stop.” Absinthe playfully swatted Purestream’s hand away as she eyed her wand. Come to think of it, she hadn’t had the chance to test it out ever since that ritual. Now might be a good time. As she and Purestream walked towards the practice rooms, she realized something. She never told Shamare her real name, how did she know? The Ursus shrugged. The Doctor probably told her.

---

“Interesting drawing you have there.” The Doctor looked at Popukar doodling on the floor. There were sheets of paper covered with crude crayon renditions of magic sigils.

“Seems she’s taken a shine to whatever magic rituals Shamare does. Don’t know if she thinks she can do it too or if she just thinks they look neat.” Orchid replied as she flipped through a magazine. “At least she’s stopped doodling all over the walls.”

“On the walls, too?”

Orchid let out a tired sigh as she looked dotingly at the young girl. “She kept getting discouraged that she didn’t have Shamare’s precision. Then Suzuran, bless her heart, made the suggestion that she practice. I know the girl was just being nice, but still. One thing led to another, and now I’m concerned the recruitment office here might have a minor paper shortage.”

“That’s a joke, right?” Orchid chuckled to herself before going back to reading her magazine. The Doctor groaned. There was very much a veiled plea to stop the girl before she burned through too many office supplies. He knelt down next to Popukar.

“Hey, you know who could help you out?” Popukar looked up at the Doctor curiously. “I heard Shamare’s gotten friendly with a caster recently. Grey hair. Ursus. Codename’s Absinthe. Why don’t you ask her for help. Shamare even showed her a ritual.”

Popukar gasped in excitement before hugging a stack of papers and trotting off. Where? She certainly didn’t know. But that didn’t stop her. The Doctor grinned as he glanced back at Orchid, who had a mix of annoyance and relief on her face as she packed her things.

“Sorry for making more work for you.” The Doctor replied apologetically.

“It beats having to scold her for borrowing too much from the office, at least. Poor girl, that Absinthe. Never seemed like the talkative type, and now you’ve unleashed Popukar onto her.”

“She’s opening up these days. She’ll be fine. After everything she’s been through, Zoya’s a strong girl.”

As Orchid chased after Popukar, the Doctor remained in the office to clean up the scattered crayons and drawings. In the corner of his eye, the Doctor swore he saw a familiar doll skittering around. He shook his head, too much talk about the Vulpo probably just put her on his mind.

As the Doctor flipped through the drawings in the hall, he could hear Orchid loudly scolding someone in the distance. As he turned a sheet around, he saw an imprint of Morte’s face. Far too accurate to simply be Popukar’s drawing. Did she seriously succeed, or was that skittering not just an illusion?

“Hmm.” The Doctor stared blankly at it. What did she want to imply this time? Don’t trouble Absinthe too much? Don’t spread her secrets? As the Doctor entered his office, he chucked the paper into a shredder. If Shamare wanted to say something, she should do it directly, not through these vague and ominous gestures.

Later that night, the Doctor’s office door malfunctioned, and he spend a night locked in his room until Engineering freed him. For some reason, Absinthe sent him an apology email the next morning.

---

Chapter Text

A rather ridiculous scene was currently playing out in the halls of a Rhodes Island dormitory. A Caprinae laid face down on the floor next to an Archosauria desperately trying to twist her body out of the wall without ripping it further with her humongous horns.

“Alright, easy there, Estelle.” A worker gently placed his hand on the Archosauria’s head as she let out a pitiful cry. “Just crouch down and you should be out.”

“Gotta be careful not to run in the halls, okay?” Another employee jokingly scolded as she pulled Beeswax up from the floor. The two girls bowed their heads apologetically.

“I’m sorry. If I didn’t trip, then Estelle wouldn’t have-”

“I’m so sorry my horns are so big. If they weren’t then you wouldn’t have to-”

The two Rhodes employees glanced at each other before laughing.

“Come on. Considering how often the other operators make a bigger mess, this is nothing.”

“You girls look like you’re on a playdate today. Just leave repairs to us and enjoy yourselves.”

While Beeswax waved goodbye happily, Estelle looked downcast as she rubbed her horns.

“Is anything hurt?” Beeswax asked.

“Hah!? No. I’m fine.” The blonde haired girl blushed as she lowered her arms. Thinking about it now, constantly touching her horns probably drew more attention to them. Not that she needed help, considering how massive they were.

“Are your horns okay?” Beeswax as she she flitted around the Archosauria. Estelle’s blush intensified as she made whining noises in her throat. The average momentary gaze from others was enough to make her self-conscious, having someone scrutinize her this closely was too much.

“Hwaah!” Beeswax cried out as she tripped on her clothes yet again. Her friend instinctively caught her, yanking Beeswax’s arm in the opposite direction and stabilizing her.

“Sorry. I got too excited again.” Beeswax chuckled nervously as she fixed her clothes. Her jacket went all the way down to the floor and then trailed behind her, even after she pulled it up. In a way, Estelle was jealous. If Beeswax thought her clothes were too much of an inconvenience, she could just remove them. The mutated Archosauria wished she could do the same for her own inconvenience.

“U-um. Forgive me, but…” Estelle trailed off as she pushed her index fingers together. “Are the clothes you wear comfortable?”

Beeswax nodded enthusiastically. “I like the feeling, even if I trip sometimes. Come, we’re almost there.”

The Caprinae opened her door and gestured for Estelle to go inside first. The blond haired girl fidgeted as she turned sideways and scooted inside. Beeswax followed soon after. Before closing the door, the white haired girl had to turn around and bunch up her robes behind her. Estelle guessed that she had gotten trapped more than a few times before. As the Caprinae let her robes fall back to the ground, she walked over to her vanity and pulled out a stool.

“The accident in the hall was my fault. Let me apologize.”

Estelle was confused, but sat down anyways. The vanity was filled to the brim with what she assumed were cosmetic products. Brushes, files, oils, and the like.

“Do you mind if I touch you horns?” Beeswax asked innocently. Estelle nodded hesitantly as Beeswax gently ran her hands along Estelle’s mutant horns. “How often do you polish them?”

Estelle stayed silent as she sighed. Polish them? A freakish aberration like these horns didn’t seem like something that needed attention at all. Looking in the mirror, the Archosauria eyed her friend’s gold-tinted horns. They were smaller than hers despite jutting out roughly the same amount. She had long made peace with her burden, but that didn’t mean she wanted to consider it as anything more than that. A burden.

“The Doctor told me about your…condition. I always found pampering my horns calms me down, so can you let me try to do the same for you?” Beeswax grabbed a file from her vanity as Estelle looked at her nervously. A faint scratching sound bounced in Estelle’s head as Beeswax tentatively ground the surface of her friend’s horns, getting a feel on how tough they were. “Don’t worry, you won’t feel anything. I’m just smoothing it down a little.”

“You’re from Sargon as well, right?” Beeswax asked casually as she kept sanding. Estelle grunted in agreement, causing the dark-skinned Caprinae to smile. “It’s a big place, but all of us that aren’t from the big cities are grouped together. It’s hard sometimes, isn’t it? The people here are open minded, but the way the modern world looks at us. Like we’re backwards savages. Beasts. It hurts, doesn’t it?”

Estelle glumly nodded as Beeswax set her file down. Her horns didn’t look any different, but she realized how much nicer they felt as she ran her fingers over them. The sensation reminded her of polished wood. Perhaps she had gotten too used to the constant indentations gained from smashing into every archway and door on Rhodes. She had always stroked them self-consciously before, but now they felt…nice.

“Every once in a while, when we fight others, I hear them call me a monster. A freak. Ah, but don’t worry. It doesn’t bother me much anymore. So long as I can protect the people here, what I am doesn’t matter.”

“Hmm…” Beeswax put her hand to her chin. Estelle stayed seated and watched the Caprinae through the mirror. For what seemed like minutes, the only sounds in the room were the low hum of the landship and the humming of Beeswax. Estelle absentmindedly drummed her fingers on her legs, unsure what to do as her companion paced around the room in deep thought.

“Freak is a relative term, is it not?” Beeswax suddenly chimed in, raising a finger to the sky. Estelle looked at her in confusion through the mirror. “It denotes abnormality, perhaps negatively. But that alone doesn’t mean anything. What someone considers normal is completely dependent on their own experiences.”

Beeswax tripped over her clothes again in an attempt to rush to something, thankfully landing in her bed and flopping painlessly. Estelle suppressed a giggle, somehow this girl was clumsier than her at times. With an electric pop, a boombox roared to life with the sound of music. Strange music at that. Just from living here, Estelle had been exposed to quite a few different genres. This song, though. The high-pitched squealing of a string, a fiddle perhaps? Heavy and low thumps. And were those rap lyrics?

“Um…What style is this?” Estelle asked curiously. Beeswax gave her a magazine. Rap and Folk Joint Vantage. Estelle reread the title a few more times.

“So what do you think?” Beeswax asked. Estelle’s words were caught in her throat. The first words that had entered her mind were all too familiar.

“Strange, no?” Beeswax giggled as if she had read the Archosauria’s mind. “It’s fine. I thought it was strange when I first listened to it, too. When we first encounter something we’ve never experienced before, I don’t thinks it’s bad to label it as strange. It’s only bad if we dismiss the thing entirely.”

Beeswax stopped the music as she picked up a rag and a tube of oil. “My tribe requires that every child goes out into the world. We live in a very remote region of Sargon, but we’ve long known that we can’t shut ourselves out forever. Nor should we.”

The rag glided across Estelle’s large horns, Beeswax being careful to not get any into the blonde’s hair. Estelle let out a small yawn before bashfully apologizing. The Caprinae didn’t pay her any mind as the pampering continued. “From my brief time out here, I have met many wonderful and strange people. A girl that can walk on walls. A doctor that behaves like a computer. People that can turn invisible. All good people. All afflicted by one malady or another. All strange in their own ways. There. Sorry for taking so long, why don’t you take a closer look. Just don’t touch them for the next five minutes while the oil dries.”

Estelle turned her head as she got a closer look. Her horns were shining under the fluorescent lighting. Even though Beeswax had warned her otherwise, her hands were slowly moving up before she slammed them back down. While the most eyecatching set had been given plenty of love from Beeswax, the smaller ones that jutted out seemed neglected in comparison now. She was about to ask Beeswax to continue, but stopped herself. The girl had already been kind enough to do this for her. Perhaps she should try doing something herself. But where to begin?

“Umm, how much does this all cost?” Estelle asked shyly. With the shelves upon shelves filled with cosmetics, maintaining Beeswax’s golden horns must’ve cost the girl a fortune. A nervous laugh from the dark-skinned caster confirmed it.

“Don’t worry, basic maintenance kits aren’t that expensive. Lots of Caprinae and Forte use them. Do you want me to show you how?”

“Um, if you wouldn’t mind. Maybe later though. It’s getting late and we still haven’t been to my room yet.”

“Of course!” Beeswax replied happily as she clasped her hands together. “I’ll be sure to give you a magazine as well.”

As the two of them walked down the hall, Estelle did her usual habit of turning sideways whenever she passed people in the halls. Perhaps she was being self-conscious, but it seemed like some people were staring at her horns more than usual. She felt flustered, but not in the despondent way she usually did when people stared.

---

Shrill chirping cried out as Estelle and Beeswax entered the crocodile’s room. Estelle giggled lightly as a small yellow bird fluttered around her head.

“Ah!” Beeswax gasped in surprise as the critter suddenly flew over to her, apparently enraptured by the way her golden horns shined in the light.

“Ehehe. This little one’s easily distracted by shiny things. Is it alright if it perches on top of your head?”

“Okay.” Beeswax replied warily as the bird chirped happily above her. “So long as it doesn’t scratch anything.”

“Don’t worry. It’s very kind. Always has been since we met. Ah, it’s about time for its afternoon snack. Can you play with it while I go and get a few things?”

Beeswax sat on Estelle’s bed and looked up at the little beast hopping around on her head. It chirped inquisitively as it landed on her horns and began bobbing its head around, amused by the dancing of lights on the mirror sheen. It then flew down and landed on the Caprinae’s wrap-bound legs, its claws tickling Beeswax as it hopped around and looked up at her.

The rustling of a plastic bag caused both the bird and the Caprinae to look up. Estelle was dutifully filling small bowls with seed and water, humming to herself as she did so. Once both were filled to the brim, the Archosauria hefted the large bag of feed over her shoulder effortlessly and carried it to her closet. As she shut the door, Estelle turned around too quickly, her horns leaving a gash on the metal surface. She grabbed her head and whimpered before inspecting the damage. At least there weren’t any dents this time.

“Are you alright?” Beeswax asked. The screeching of keratin against metal was horrendous, the caster’s skin now covered with goosebumps. She seemed to be the only one affected, however, as the bird simply leapt from Beeswax’s lap and onto Estelle’s head, chirping as if to cheer its master up.

“Don’t worry, it happens sometimes. Miss Closure gave me some painting supplies to cover up minor scrapes like this, so it’s not much of an issue.”

“Painting…painting…” Beeswax hummed in contemplation.

“D-do you want to help? It’s not that interesting, I just slather a new coat over any gashes I make.”

“Mmm. I’ll help.” Beeswax declared softly.

“H-huh? T-thank you. Um. Do you want to do it while this little one eats or…?”

“Hmm…” Beeswax knelt on the floor until she was eye-level with Estelle’s desk. Her eyes followed the bouncing bird as it dipped its beak into the water bowl.

Estelle giggled as she sat down. That answered her question. Watching her friend eat without a care in the world helped calm her down as well. Beeswax, on the other hand, was watching the critter intently. Differently than the academics Estelle had gotten used to in Rhodes. The Caprinae’s scrutiny was childlike, taking in information without forming theories or models. Just seeing things at face value. As her bird finished the last of its meal, it flapped its wings aggressively and stared at the door.

“Oh, are you sure?” Estelle looked at the bird like a concerned mother as she hesitantly opened her door. “Alright, I’ll come pick you up later, okay?”

Estelle waved goodbye as the bird somewhat lethargically flew out of her room. Perhaps it wanted to work off its snack, Beeswax thought. She preferred a good nap after eating herself.

“Where is it going?”

“To the garden.” Estelle replied as she began cleaning up. “When I first came here, I always got sad whenever it left. Because I didn’t know where it went. Miss Perfumer had to bring it back to me once after it went missing for days. I still worry about it sometimes, but the people here are really nice. A lot even help it ride the elevator these days.”

“Hmm…” Beeswax hummed happily. There certainly weren’t a lot of animals on Rhodes, probably due to potential allergies. Compared to the bustling farms and wilderness of her own tribe, the landships of civilization always seemed a little sterile. But everyone seemed to fawn over the few pets that operators or patients brought along with them. Perhaps it was the novelty of it all. “It’s nice to be able to meet again at the end of every day, is it not?”

Estelle tilted her head in confusion as Beeswax looked out the window wistfully.

“Sorry. I forgot to tell you. My sister also works as an operator, but she’s always away. Even when she comes back here, she can never stay for long. There are times here when I want to go back to when we were both living with our tribe, when we could spend our evenings together again. So I am slightly envious of the relationship you have with that little creature.”

“I…” Estelle grappled with what she just heard. Jealousy, huh? Over something that she had no control over? That sounded familiar.

“Shall we get to painting your closet?” Beeswax’s earnest question shook Estelle out of her brooding. The Archosauria grunted happily as she began bringing out supplies.

Estelle heaved a few buckets of primer as Beeswax crouched down and covered the floor and walls in plastic wrap. The white primer buckets were dripping with dried droplets. The Caprinae spied a few other buckets of different colors, unopened and pristine.

Estelle laughed bashfully as she used a screwdriver to wrench off the lid of a paint bucket. “Miss Closure gave those to me to help cheer me up. Um. I’m not a painter, so I never know what to draw. I’ve been thinking about giving them away before they dry up completely.”

“Before you do, I have an idea. Hmm…I’ll do it on the other door, if that’s alright with you.” Beeswax stated in a quiet but confident voice. Estelle got to work repairing her damage with experienced hands. First apply epoxy, press down and wipe away excess. Once dry, start applying primer and wait to dry. That was the furthest she usually got. The Archosauria glanced over at Beeswax using a smaller brush to draw…something on her closet door. She couldn’t see it clearly, and Beeswax playfully covered it with her other arm when Estelle tried to sneak a peek.

When Estelle finally got to look at Beeswax’s handiwork, she was confused. The paintings on her door were familiar, they were on many of Beeswax’s clothes. Some of them Estelle could recognize. Animals that resembled a crocodile, a bird, and a goat perhaps? Then a rectangle with an opening below them all. And a circle with a dot in the middle above them all.

“What does this mean?”

“Sometimes they represent sounds. Or complex ideas. But this time, they simply are what they are.” Beeswax pointed to the rectangle. “This one represents home.”

Then to the circle high above the rest. “This one the sun. For the gods that watch over us all.”

“H-huh? Um. Do I need to make an offering or…” Beeswax shook her head.

“This is a commemoration. Carry this day in your heart, and that will be sufficient.”

“A-alright, I’ll try. Um…” Estelle blushed as she squeezed her hands together. “T-thank you for hanging out with me. It’s makes me…really happy.”

“Of course.” Beeswax stood up on her tiptoes and patted Estelle on the head. “If you ever want to listen to music or talk with me again, just tell me.”

The two girls laughed merrily as they put everything away. Within one afternoon, the two had become partners in crime. Very clumsy partners in crime, as yet another hole in the walls outside would prove.

---

Beeswax giggled as her older sister messed up her hair.

“So, how was it playing the elder sister for once, squirt?”

“It went well. Estelle is such a nice girl.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear.” Carnelian chuckled darkly as she withdrew her hand and crossed her arms. “I’ve heard you’ve caused quite a bit of grief for the workers here. How many times have you tripped on each other at this point?”

Beeswax’s dark skin was dyed bright red as she covered her head in shame. Carnelian kept laughing dotingly as she flicked her little sister on the forehead. “If you want to wear clothes like that, make sure you don’t trip in them. It makes me worried whenever I hear people talk about how you keep falling over. And it makes me even more worried when I hear you topple over someone else.”

“Honestly, it’s become something of a regular feature these days. People seem to think it’s funny more than anything. They haven’t destroyed anything important yet, anyways.” The Doctor casually added as he walked into the room.

“Oh? Have they been intentionally doing anything, Doctor?” Carnelian’s face twisted into a sadistic grin. “If they have, I’d be more than happy to correct them. An older sister has to look out for her younger one, after all.”

The Doctor laughed nervously. “Thankfully, no. They’ve been fairly respectful. They’ll chuckle at the usual display, but people will step in to help them up more often than not.”

Beeswax’s phone suddenly vibrated. Without a care in the world, Carnelian casually leaned over to read her sister’s texts, despite Beeswax trying to twist away from her. Whatever the elder Caprinae read, it caused her to erupt into bellowing laughter.

“What are you gonna do now, ‘big sis?’” Carnelian jokingly asked as Beeswax blushed again.

“What’s up?” The Doctor asked casually. “Something I should be concerned with?”

“Nah. Seems Beeswax over here has a little apprentice now.” Carnelian replied as she ruffled Beeswax’s hair again, causing the little Caprinae to groan indignantly.

Before the Doctor could prod the two sisters for more info, his own phone buzzed. His screen was flooded with texts marked urgent from Closure.

Doctor

You need to get this croc outta my store now

It was cute when she was browsing all confused

But she keeps knocking stuff down with her tail

and those massive horns

Think of my losses, doc!

“What?” The Doctor was completely bewildered, but only for a moment. As he put the dots together, he simply sighed and shook his head. “Seems like we’re going to the same place. Might as well walk there together.”

---

Subject: Garden Trip Report

From: Lena

To: Gavial

Hello Doctor Gavial,

I’m glad we managed to work this out. From what other doctors have told me, the recent trip to the Convalescent Garden has had a marked improvement for many of the young patients already, especially the ones from more rural settlements. I would like to give special thanks for your recommendation of volunteers.

Estelle seemed nervous at first, but letting her feed the birds while someone else did the chaperoning worked out nicely. The creatures always liked her especially for some reason. And Beeswax was very helpful when it came to bughunting. Most of our volunteers are a bit squeamish at times, not that accustomed to some of the larger specimens we have roaming around. Beeswax, on the other hand, was gleefully picking up anything and everything and showing them off. If you have anyone else you would recommend, let me know!

---

Chapter Text

“What do you think they’re saying?” Vanilla asked. Her pet Metal Crab, Stout, was staring at its distant relative. Twista, perhaps. Or maybe Trey. The Vouivre wasn’t good at recognizing which of Beanstalk’s pets was which. Stout was absolutely massive compared to its diminutive, domesticated counterpart. Nonetheless, the littler one was clacking its claws happily as it looked up with curious yellow eyes. It shuffled to the side, Stout followed after it. Then it shuffled back. Then Stout suddenly raised a leg before dropping it onto the little crab. The little crustacean bounced slightly and shook its body before pinching Stout’s leg in retaliation.

“Wah! Stout, be nice to our guests.” Vanilla lifted her Metal Crab away. The creature looked around, confused as to why it was suddenly airborne, but otherwise ignorant of whatever its owner was saying. “I’m so sorry. Usually he’s always well-behaved.”

“No prob! They were just sizing each other up.” Beanstalk knelt down and looked at Trey. “See, not even a scratch on either one. Stout here was probably wondering if Trey was as tough as he was. My little ones do it all the time, constantly snipping at the flowers on each other’s heads or ramming into each other.”

The Reproba chuckled as she picked Trey up and bounced him in her hands. “Well, it’s mostly just a few of them. Trey here’s always been a bit of a fighter. Now, Ice Cube on the other hand…”

The Reproba pointed to a scene in the corner which caused Vanilla to squeal in delight. One of her slugs was resting atop another Metal Crab, which was itself napping happily underneath its new sleeping partner.

“Omigosh. I have to take a picture of this. Phone. Phone. Where’s my phone?” The Vouivre patted her clothes before pulling her device out. Her finger fiddled with the touchscreen, her face scrunched in confusion. “Um…Did my camera stop working?”

“What’s up? Something wrong?” Beanstalk leaned over to look at her friend’s screen. The breeder chuckled as she realized the simple mistake Vanilla had made. With the slide of a finger, she switched from video back to photo mode. “There you go, try it again.”

“Ah! Thank you!” Vanilla smiled as electronic shutter after shutter played. “Sorry for making you do that. I’m not really good with modern devices.”

“It’s all cool! Say, if you want more experience, I’ve been working with Engineering to make automatic feeders recently.” Beanstalk pulled a pamphlet out from her apron. Her friend tilted her head in confusion as she stared at the words on the page. Words she had next to no comprehension of. “I mean, this was originally made for hounds and birds rather than slugs, but I’ve been messing with the settings, so it should work with other pets. You can set everything yourself with these. Time, weight. It even has a built-in water purifier.”

“I thought you fed your crabs by hand. I mean, that what I do with my little ones.”

“I do.” Beanstalk watched another one of her pets lift a rather large slug above its head. “But, a lot of people don’t have the time or guts, y’know. I mean, how do people usually react when you ask them to feed your slugs?”

“They usually think they’re slimy.” Vanilla patted her lap, and Tiny slowly oozed its way up. “But, they’re usually pretty clean. I’ve trained them well enough that they don’t make a mess unless they’re really scared.”

“Right. But not everyone knows that.” Beanstalk held out a finger in front of one of her buddies, who closed its claw around it. Light enough that the woman didn’t feel the slightest bit of pain. Beanstalk wagged her finger up and down, effectively shaking hands with the little crab. “Remember, most people’s experience with our friends is either as pests if they’re from the country, or something to gawk at in a zoo if they’re from the city. That’s why I’ve been trying to sell a bunch of things to make pet ownership way easier. The more people realize how cute and friendly they are, the more likely they’ll spread the word and get their friends to try. And for folks like us, that’s a victory if there ever was one.”

“When you put it like that… Maybe I should give it a try. I mean, it took me a while to get used to the doors here, but I don’t jump when they open by themselves anymore.” Vanilla stroked her own metal crab on the head. The beast, for the most part, ignored her and stared at a buzzing fly instead.

“Alright! I’ll send one over as soon as I can!” Beanstalk replied excitedly. “Give me as much feedback as you can, I need to know if this system can work on different types of feed as well.”

“I’ll certainly try. Compared to writing up mission reports, it’ll be a breeze.” Vanilla laughed as she watched Stout amble back to its plastic home, seemingly content with today’s socializing.

“Right, you’re from Blacksteel, ain’tcha?” Vanilla stammered as she raised her hands up. The Reproba maintained her cheery tone, but those words were all too familiar to the young trainee. They were always loaded, usually with some form of accusation. Beanstalk let out a hissing laugh as she pat her friend on the shoulder.

“Relax. They were just a company I sent a business proposal to back when I was looking for sponsors.”

“B-business proposal?”

“Aye.” The breeder clapped her hands, and the many Metal Crabs previously lounging in Vanilla’s room immediately scuttled into a line in front of her. “Figured they could be used as guards or search beasts. Blacksteel declined, of course. Said they already had hounds for that. Their lost, honestly. My little ones are way tougher and more compact.”

Beanstalk paused for a moment, looking at the formation of crabs staring at her at rapt attention. “Hmm? Where’s Pea?”

Vanilla gasped as all the crabs started moving, forming a trail for the two to follow. It seemed Beanstalk wasn’t kidding when she said they’d be good for searching. As the two of them followed the line of beasts, they came across a diminutive crustacean. Pea, if the Vouivre remembered correctly. The one that Beanstalk always kept in a cage with her. More importantly, Pea seemed to be…reading? At the very least, it was using its claws to flip through some book or other.

“Huh? Um…Beanstalk? How intelligent are your pets?”

“Oh, this?” Beanstalk nonchalantly lifted the little crab up, which flailed around as it was placed back in its cage. “Pea real smart, but she can’t actually read. She likes looking at pictures, though, so she was probably just staring at those. Settle down, Pea!”

Vanilla giggled as the crab lightly smacked against its own glass confinement, indignant that its reading time got interrupted. She picked up the book, or rather magazine, that the little crab had been reading. A nature magazine that the Vouivre had picked up from a lounge room a little while back. She flipped through the pages, catching glimpses of the various creatures in far off lands.

“Figured an animal lover like you would have something like this.” Beanstalk smiled as she plopped down next to Vanilla, holding Pea between them. The little creature was looking at the pictures before her with complete focus.

“Hehe. It’s one of the reason I left my hometown, actually. Mercenaries would always come through telling me stories about the animals they saw out in the world. I wanted to see them firsthand.”

“And bring them home with you?” Beanstalk had a knowing smile on her face as Vanilla kept flipping through the magazine. “Seems like you get a new pet every time you come back. Must be killer on the upkeep.”

“But they’re all so cute.” Vanilla glanced at the numerous domiciles in her room. Some of them were plastic or metal cases, but many other were simply converted cardboard boxes. Since her pets weren’t classified as therapeutic, the Vouivre often found herself having to pay for most expenses. At least Medical was nice enough to give her veterinary services for free. “But you have a point. I should ask for a raise soon. My budget for their food is starting to get a little high.”

Beanstalk’s entrepreneurial spirit was roused as countless ideas flitted about in her head. “How about we find some work for your little friends?”

“Huh? Um…Stout’s not like yours. He’s…” Vanilla leaned in to whisper into the Reproba’s ear, as if the crab could be offended by what she was about to say. “A bit of a dummy. Not good at following instructions.”

“It’s fine. I was actually thinking about your slugs. I mean, people have used them for brewing before.”

“I know what you’re thinking. Absolutely not. I’m not letting my slugs ferment anything.” Vanilla crossed her arms and pouted. “With all the boozehounds aboard, they’d be turned into living distilleries within a day.”

“Fair enough. Well, how about letting Medical examine them? Back in the country, some of the infected used to keep slugs around. Said they’re secretions could treat oripathy and stuff. I don’t know if it’s just superstition or whatever, but I know some doctors here are trying to figure it out. Having some slugs that aren’t prodded and milked day in and day out would probably be useful to them.”

“They do what?!” Vanilla exclaimed, her arms wrapped possessively around Puffball, the slug deforming form the tight embrace it was in. “Then no! It’s bad enough with the way the Doctor stares at them.”

“Woah, woah. It was just a figure of speech. I’m sure they’re treating them well. It’s just that the slugs there are all lab raised for generations, so way different then the ones you have.” Beanstalk stammered as Vanilla sighed and settled down. “They haven’t been having much success, so I figured getting breeds closer to ones the folks I knew had would help.

“Okay. Don’t scare me like that.” Vanilla pet her slugs. “If you introduce me to the doctors, I’ll be sure to drop them off. Hmm…It would be a little lonely if they were at the lab all the time.”

“How about adopting another crab, then?” Beanstalk laughed schemingly. “I just finished hatching another batch. I was gonna give most of them over to Perfumer to populate the garden, but I’m sure one or two going missing won’t be an issue.”

The Blacksteel trainee brightened up immediately and nodded.

“Heheheh. Figured as much. I’ll have to get you all certified first, though.” With these words, Vanilla’s enthusiasm deflated. “I know, you already have Stout. But my crabs are a bit different compared to a wild one. Just need to make sure you know some specifics. Come, I keep everything in my room.”

“A-alright. Everyone! Beanstalk and her friends are leaving now, come say goodbye!”

---

“I’m home!” The Reproba shouted joyfully as she strided into her room. As the automatic door swished open, many pairs of small yellow eyes turned to look at her. Her walls lined with terrarium after terrarium laying on the ground, each with their own tiny crustacean scuttling about.

“Wow.” Vanilla was dumbstruck at how many there were. At a glance, there seemed to be a dozen terrariums at least. “I thought they all lived in the garden.”

“Those ones? They’re a bit older than these kiddos.” Beanstalk replied as she collected materials for Vanilla. A self-written manual on metal crab care. Instruction for terrarium maintenance. And a certification for pet ownership. “These one’s gotta get a bit bigger before they’re allowed to start wandering. Alright, this should be everything. Temperature ranges, what they eat. How moist their homes should be. Now just let me sign a few forms.”

“Hwah? Don’t I need to take a test or something? That’s how they do it in Blacksteel.” Vanilla hesitantly took the materials in her hands, flipping through the pages.

“If you were anyone else, I’d make you read everything cover to cover. But…this is you we’re talking about. I’ll trust you on this one. There we go. Forms all signed off, now I just need to copy them and we’ll be all set. Go ahead and pick whichever one you like!”

“Of course. I won’t let you down!” Vanilla trotted over to the line of terrariums, the small creatures looking up at her curiously. It was a marked difference from how most wild crabs were, who either treated people with general indifference or territorial hostility. “So, how many of these critter have you sold, anyways?”

Beanstalk chuckled dryly as her aged printer whirred to life. “Not as many as I’d hope, but still more than when I started. People get a bit discouraged when they realize I’m not selling them to eat.”

“Eating these things?” Vanilla glanced at the crustaceans staring back at her with nary a care in the world. She had eaten meat before. Out in the wastes, food was hard to come by. She even knew the best way to pry open a crab with her hands, a party trick she had used before when dining with her teammates. But still, the thought of having to crack open Beanstalk’s companions made her squeamish.

“Yeah, that’s how most people seem them. Them’s the breaks.” The aardwolf stapled the forms together as she talked. “But hey, even if all I get is one person interested, I’ll pitch to as many people as I need to. That’s why I’m here to begin with.”

“Oh?”

Beanstalk nodded wistfully as she tucked Vanilla’s paperwork away in a faded manila folder. “Loads of people back home weren’t happy with my choice in career. ‘Specially my old man. Too used to raising burdenbeasts and fowlbeasts to consider anything else. Loads of other companies are real set in their ways, too. If they aren’t using drones, then they’re using hounds, which are cute in their own way, I suppose. Rhodes, though, I suppose being on the bleeding edge of things makes us kindred spirits in a way. How ‘bout the folks from your home?”

“Them? Well, I wouldn’t say they’re close-minded. But they do live a simple life, out in the countryside.” Vanilla recalled the scorching barrenlands of the Vouivre Alliance. Scarcity was an everpresent companion. Even with the occasional oasis or river, the land was harsh, its inhabitants tempered into stern survivalists. “We have resources here and there, but we don’t have a lot of technology. Most people just do what they can to survive.”

“Aye, nothing wrong with that. Do people often leave like you do?”

Vanilla nodded. “Plenty aren’t content just surviving day to day, especially when we hear so much about the world outside. So plenty of young people take the first caravan or messenger attache out to seek new opportunities. Liskarm’s another one, although I’m sure she’s got more ambitions than me.”

“Liskarm? Hmm…I think I’ve seen some of your buddies, which one is she?”

“The other Vouivre. The one with the shield and gun.” Vanilla picked up a terrarium of her choice and held it in her lap. She watched the crab housed inside turn left and right, eager to take in the new perspective it had now that it was in a chair and not on the ground. “She plans on making her own mercenary company one day. I’m not that much of a dreamer, I just wanted to see the outside world.”

“And all the cute critters therein.” Beanstalk grinned as Vanilla looked down and blushed.

“I’m not smart, I’m no good with arts. I’ve certainly never fought off more than the occasional beast or thief back home. But I’m at least naturally strong, so mercenary work was easy enough for me to pick up.”

“Come on, don’t put yourself down like that.” Beanstalk leaned over and pat the Vouivre on the head. “You’ve got a big heart as well. Someone’s gotta look out for all the living beings that people don’t even consider. For all the little folks. Maybe that’s why you stuck around here as well.”

“Maybe…” The blonde wyvern smiled shyly. “Instructor Dobermann gets on my case about it sometimes, though. Do you ever hesitate when you have to fight metal crabs?”

“Sometimes. But that’s just life, y’know?” Beanstalk replied. “Is she giving you a hard time?”

“Not quite.” Vanilla scratched the back of her head. The Perro had certainly made her do speical training regimes to get her to actually attack slugs, to limited success. “I mean, looking back, I’m glad she took the time out of her day to do so. If she didn’t, then that one mission would have…never mind.”

“I know that look.” The Reprobab shot her friend a sympathetic glance. “You don’t have to say anything if it still hurts. I getcha. Having to put down attacking beasts is sad, no doubt about it. But I’d say that’s why folks like us are so important.”

Beanstalk took Pea out of her cage and hugged her tightly, the creature’s eyes lighting up affectionately. “I won’t deny that animals can occasionally cause trouble for people. No species is born domesticated, after all. Not the burdenbeasts. Not the hounds. Not the fowlbeasts. But at some point, someone had to have the bright idea to try and befriend them when everyone else considered them nothing but pests. When you see it like that, aren’t we as important as the people that first domesticated all the livestock every knows about?”

“Hehe. I don’t think we’re that important. But you’re right in a way.” Vanilla giggled as she looked down at her new friend. “Come on. I want to show off this little one to the other Blacksteel girls.”

---

“Doctor, stop staring at ‘em like that.” Beanstalk pouted as she watched the hooded man stare at the crabs resting in the Convalescent Garden.

“Like what?”

“I’ve been talking with Vanilla these days. Those little ones are friends, not food!”

“Oh, that’s what has you all bothered. Don’t worry, I couldn’t catch them if I tried. Too speedy for me.” Beanstalk glared as his joke fell flat.

“Doctor, I’m a pretty good shot. You know that.”

“Point taken. Point taken.” The Doctor put his hands up. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna eat someone’s pet. By the way, I’ve heard you’ve been handing out a bunch of babies to people recently.”

The Reproba’s face eased up as she slipped back into her salesman mode. “Interested in adopting one yourself? I’ll have to give you some extra paperwork, just to make doubly sure you won’t try and eat it.”

“No, that’s alright. I certainly don’t have time to take care of another living being. All of you give me plenty of work as is. I was just wondering, did you consult Medical before doing so?”

“Huh?”

“We certainly allow some animals onboard, but our pet guidelines and restrictions exist for a reason. Loads of our patients might have allergies to one animal or another. Metal crabs are closely related to shellfish, so it actually occurred to me that they might be an issue even if we’re not eating them. I’m sure they’re quite hygienic, but all it takes is one outbreak of hives from a scratch or some swelling from cross-contamination and Kal’tsit will hunt you down. And believe me, a lawsuit would be the least of your worries.”

“Waah!” The vanguard scooped up Pea and quickly plopped her into a tank, the little creature dazed from the sudden swift motion. “Pea! We need to go now! I need to update my paperwork!”

The woman sprinted out of the garden, fretting hysterically. The Doctor sighed, he certainly didn’t intend to scare her that much, just get her to be a bit more mindful of who she peddles her pets to. He couldn’t fault her enthusiasm, at least.

“You’ve got a good owner, you know that?” The Doctor said casually to the crustaceans still scuttling about in the garden. Some of them stared at him for a moment before going back to their own business. A large green slug meandered into the Doctor’s view, gliding slowly down a gravel trail.

“Don’t wander ahead!” The Doctor heard a familiar Vouivre call out. “Ah, Doctor! What are you doing?”

The man shrugged. “Just taking a little break from work. What’s going on? You walking your pets?”

“Hehe. Sort of.” Vanilla hugged the slug in her arms. “I’m giving these little ones a reward for being such good patients.”

“Oh dear, were they sick?” The Vouivre shook her head happily.

“I volunteered to help with something. Beanstalk told me that slug secretions could help treat oripathy, so I figured why not?”

“Oh.” The Doctor clapped his hands together. “If that’s the case, we should thank you. Even if nothing comes out of it, I’ll try to convince HR to give you a bonus.”

The vanguard looked away bashfully. “Come on, you don’t need to do that. It’s all about helping people, right? Actually…” She paused as she tallied her expenses. Even if her friends could eat just about anything, having to feed the equivalent of two and a half people by herself was starting to dip into her savings. “It would be nice if the cafeteria could give me a little extra food from now on. No need for special feed or anything, just whatever scraps they have left over.”

“I think Beanstalk’s rubbing off on you.” The Doctor thought to himself. The breeder was notorious in HR for constantly trying to sneak in small items into her budget. Enough that her proposals had to go through a battery of accountants just to double-check for any hidden expenses. At least Vanilla was honest about things.

“I’ll bring it up with the kitchen, then.” The Doctor replied. “If you’re looking for Beanstalk, you just missed her.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Vanilla looked down briefly before turning her head to look at a small black slumberbeast digging up a mushroom. “Ah, Blacknight must be here. Excuse me, Doctor. I promised to introduce my little ones to her the last time we talked.”

The Doctor waved goodbye as he watched a trio of slugs slowly trail after their master.

“If people keep bring their pets aboard, we’ll be able to open up our own zoo soon.” The Doctor joked to himself.

---

Rosa opened the door curiously. The only person that would bother coming to visit her was Sonya, and she was busy helping Lada out in the kitchen. A tall, imposing man stood in front of her doorway. Despite this, the young Ursus gave a curt smile.

“How are you doing today, Mister Aleksandr? Do you need something from me?”

The armored man lightly wiggled a glass box in his arms, the crab inside it unfazed by the physical disturbance. “I’m doing well, Natalya. Cohen wants our team to go to Columbia on a mission, so I need to leave my pets with someone. I understand that you have been listless lately, so I figured I could give you something new to do. The manual should be included with the feed, so you shouldn’t have any problems taking care of little Kleshnya here.”

“I see.” The white-haired Ursus’ brows furrowed in worry. “Pardon me, but wouldn’t Sonya and the others be better for this duty?”

Tachanka laughed kindly as he shifted around. His eyes warm behind his helmet. “They’re already looking after Uman, and I’m sure that’s plenty for them as is. This one seems sensitive to loud noises, so I thought that you would be a better keeper. It’s good that the others are so lively these days, but that might make him anxious.”

“I…” Rosa gripped the side of her door as she eyed the little creature staring back at her. She wasn’t like Sonya. Could she really be trusted with the life of another living being?

“You’ll do fine.” Tachanka said firmly as he held the tank out. Rosa took it with shaking hands, cradling it as if it were the most fragile thing in the world. “Taking care of a pet is all about routine. Feed it. Clean its cage. Make sure its comfortable. From what the breeder tells me, Kleshnya’s hardy to begin with. And quite content to nap all day.”

Rosa took a deep breath and nodded resolutely. “Alright. I won’t let you down, Mister Aleksandr.”

“I know you won’t. Hah! If I come back and it loves you more than it loves me, you’re free to keep it.” The operator walked away, glancing back one last time to see Natalya leaning over her desk to stare at her new pet at eye level. He had to thank Beanstalk later for giving him this opportunity. A chuckle reverberated inside his helmet as he wondered how long it would take for Rosa to realize that the instructions had been mixed up. Perhaps a bit risky, given the girls’ disposition towards each other, but they at least seemed to be on better terms these days. Whatever happens, he’ll know whenever he comes back.

Chapter Text

“Heavyraaaiin.” The Doctor lazily waved a hand in front of the Kuranta’s face. “You alright? You’ve been zoning out for a while.” The girl yelped and turned her head away from the thing that had so enraptured her. A minifridge filled with nondescript red cans and juice packs. Or at least what seemed like juice packs.

“Oh? Does the little lady have something to say?” Warfarin raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“Ah. N-nothing. I-I was just wondering. Is that…” Heavyrain pushed her fingers together as she looked bashfully at Warfarin. The vampire flashed her a sinister grin, before breaking off into a resigned sigh.

“Nah. It’s just synthetic blood. I’m not some monster that stalks the halls at night, waiting to pounce on someone getting a midnight snack.”

“Thank goodness for that. We already have too many incidents with those types as is.” The Doctor joked. “What’s in those things, anyways?”

“Hemoglobin. And a bunch of other stuff. But it’s mostly just lab-made blood.”

“So who was the donor?”

Warfarin winked. “That’s a secret. I make all the synthetic blood on Rhodes myself, so it’s way better than the sewage my kin sell. You have to account for folks mixing cultures together by accident, mislabeling things, and all manner of weird practices. I know some less reputable sources like watering it down with cystybeast blood to cut costs.”

“So how does it taste?” Heavyrain blurted out softly. She squeaked and covered her mouth soon after. Warfarin simply laughed as she tossed a blood pack to the young Kuranta.

“Why not give it a try? It’s not gonna hurt you. Just don’t drink the whole thing. That’ll give you a tummy ache.”

“Heavyrain, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” The Doctor said reassuringly as the zebra punched a straw through the plastic with shaking hands. She took a deep breath before taking a little sip. A foul taste of iron filled her mouth. She spat it out, dark red liquid splattering down her mouth.

“Yeah, that’s the reaction I expected.” Warfarin handed Heavyrain a wet wipe, which the Kuranta graciously accepted. “Pretty much the reason why I had to move it all to my place. Back in the old days, I used to keep these in Medical’s break room. One too many incidents, and no more fake blood allowed anymore.”

“Oh, so that’s why that rule’s there.” The Doctor remarked. In the Medical section’s break rooms, there were always overly long lists of things not permitted for storage in the fridges. Some, the Doctor understood, such as patient samples or saline. Then there were the weird ones, like raw meat or tools. But he could figure out the story behind those well enough. And then there was synthetic blood.

“Yep. You should’ve seen the commotion back in the old days. Seemed like once a week, some exhausted doctor would pick out a drink at random and start coughing up blood. Was real tense right after Theres– the really old days. Too many false emergencies, and I got hit by a ban.”

“Ever think about marking them?” The Doctor turned the shiny metal can around in his hand. Without any brand logos or even a nutrition label, it was uncanny.

“No point. So long as us bloodsuckers know what it is, that’s all that matters. Not like we can sell them to anyone else. Not even as medicine.”

“Well, maybe not as it is, but blood cuisine isn’t exactly an alien concept to other people. Plenty of cultures use animal blood in cooking. Sausages, curds, soups and the like.”

“Heh. Of course you would know about food, Doctor. That being said, blood sausages sound interesting. Wonder what they’re like..”

Heavyrain perked up at the talk of food, but didn’t say anything. Although the quiet growl of her stomach told her companions her true feelings anyways. The concept was unusual to her. As far as she could recall, Sargon cuisine never used blood as an ingredient. She too wondered what it would taste like. Salty? Or tinged with iron like what she just drank? If so, maybe it would be best to not try it.

“Well, maybe we should ask the kitchen after this.” The Doctor turned to face the defender. “How about it, Heavyrain? Feel like eating even more blood?”

“H-huh? Umm…If it doesn’t taste like…”

“Don’t worry. It’s actually tasty for us non-vampires. What about you, Warfarin?”

“Hmph. So long as it doesn’t have any garlic.” The medic grumbled. “I hate the smell of it.”

The Doctor and Heavyrain stared at the vampire, unsure how to reply to her comment. Or rather, they knew what they wanted to say, but it seemed impolite. Warfarin giggled as she put her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, yeah. How stereotypical. Don’t worry, if the worst you think about me is that I hate garlic and sunlight, then well… One, you’re right. I don’t sleep in a coffin, though. And two, I’ve had people assume worse.”

The Sarkaz picked up a paper-clipped manuscript and waved it around. “Check these out.”

Heavyrain skimmed through the first page, only to end up feeling woozy just looking at all the words. Big words. Ones that she had no idea how to pronounce. Next to a bunch of numbers she had no context for. She guessed it was some sort of scientific paper. Just about the only thing she understood was the author. Doctor Blood. The zebra looked at the smirking vampire. The name seemed too dramatic for Warfarin, who was far too casual to have such a nickname.

“I still get a kick whenever a journal has to publish one of my works.” Warfarin looked at the stacks of manuscripts she had lying on her desks. And these weren’t counting the drafts she had saved on her computer.

“Oh yeah, I think Kal’tsit mentioned this.” The Doctor replied as he casually read through her abstract. Ingestion versus injection therapy as means to treat bromadiolone poisoning. That was definitely up her alley. “Something about you using an alias when you publish things.”

“Yep. Back when I used to submit stuff in person, people would take one look at me and not even consider it anymore. Well, I’m not one to deny people vital information out of spite. Good thing is that, these days, I can just drop my papers off and someone from HR takes care of the publishing work for me.”

“That’s sad, though.” Heavyrain remarked meekly. “Not being praised for all the work you do. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Aye, I suppose it is.” Warfarin gently pat the zebra on the head. Heavyrain groaned indignantly, but didn’t stop her. “But I got more important things to do than get angry. Trust me, little lady, thinking about all the ways people misjudge you is a waste of time when you can be spending all that mental energy doing other things. Like research, or having fun.”

“And what do you do for fun, Doctor Blood?” Warfarin glared at the man. “Scare the children in pediatrics?”

Warfarin let out a small hiss as she giggled, causing Heavyrain to shrink back and try to sink herself into the wall. “Only when they’re misbehaving. Those little tykes need to respect their elders more.”

“I think they do. At least, they behave around Doctor Kal’tsit and Doctor Touch.”

“Yeah, but Touch has that knowledgeable air about her. As for Kal’tsit, even the kids know that old lady’ll launch herself into an hour-long lecture if you give her the slightest opening. But don’t worry, if I can’t get them to behave normally, I can get them to cooperate in other ways.”

Warfarin grinned smugly as she pulled a tophat and what looked to be a prop of a human heart out of her closet. “Observe! This getup will be ready in time for next Witch Feast.”

Heavyrain’s face turned pale as Warfarin squeezed the heart. Sensing the Kuranta’s distress, the medic stowed her prop away. She smiled and pressed a lollipop into Heavyrain’s hand. The zebra brightened immediately as she popped the sugary treat into her mouth. “Come the holiday, good little boys and girls get candy. While bad little boys and girls get this.”

The vampire balled her fist. When she opened it, a dark-red paper bat rested in her palm. A paper bat that she then chucked at the Doctor’s face.

“Augh!” The Doctor dodged out of the way. For all he knew, there was a syringe stuck in there just waiting to extract his blood. “What did I do?”

“Hehe. Who knows? Either way, we’ve got a lot more newcomers this year. It’s gonna be a lively Witch Feast this time around. Hopefully we’ll have enough candy for everyone.”

“W-witch Feast is that Sarkaz holiday where kids go ask people for candy right? I heard Spot tell me about it.” Heavyrain shyly shuffled around. “I-I guess that means – No. I wouldn’t be able to do it, anyways.”

“Thinking about dressing up and going trick-or-treating? Well, it was originally intended for Sarkaz women only, but we’ve already opened up the holiday as is, so go nuts! Believe me, some of the sweet-toothed adults always cause a ruckus. Loads of people will be thankful for a quiet one like you.”

“If you want, you could go with me.” The Doctor offered. “Kal’tsit pretty much volunteered me to look after the problem children. You don’t have to say anything, just hold up a bag or bucket or whatever. If you can handle all the noise, that is. It’s still a while away, so you’ve got time to mull it over.”

Heavyrain let out a small gasp as a faint smile crept onto her lips. She nodded in gratitude.

“Right! You can even be one of the tricksters!” Warfarin laughed deviously as she got uncomfortably close to the white-haired Kuranta. “With that stealthing of yours, you’ll be spooking people left and right.”

“B-but I don’t want to…what if they don’t like it?”

“I think we’ll have to scratch that one off the idea list.” The Doctor remarked as he scratched his neck. Heavyrain was definitely too nice for that. If she simply disappeared, she might not even need a costume. Just put a sheet over her and cut out some eye holes. As Warfarin kept ribbing the Kuranta on with whatever mischievous Witch Feast plans were popping into her head, the Doctor let out a sigh of relief.

So far, so good. Heavyrain, he didn’t have many worries about. As reserved as the girl is, she’s got a good heart. Most people can pick up on that. The main issue was Warfarin, but the vampire was remarkably well-behaved today. Perhaps a little pushy, but she’s yet to suggest anything too dangerous. Maybe he didn’t have to chaperone the two of them after all. But, given his luck, it was only a matter of time.

---

“Did she forget to clean up beforehand?” Warfarin leaned against the wall outside Heavyrain’s room, sipping a pack of blood. To the Doctor, it reminded him of how a child drank a juice pack. Holding it with both hands, cheeks sunken in from sucking on the straw too hard. If he didn’t know better, the Doctor might have assumed she was a teenage girl.

“Nah. She’s probably just nervous. You saw the bags under her eyes, right? Darker than usual. Probably didn’t get any sleep last night thinking about today.” The Doctor knocked lightly on Heavyrain’s door, the Kuranta’s faint voice signaling that she wasn’t ready just yet. “At least she’s enjoying herself so far.”

“Really? How’d you figure?”

“She’ doesn’t vocalize things often, but it’s pretty easy to read her after a while. If she isn’t trying to hide away in a corner somewhere, she’s probably comfortable with the situation.”

“Hah. I can see why every nut case operator likes you. You’re gonna annoy Kal’tsit more than usual if you keep stealing away all her children’s affection. There’s Amiya. Rosmontis. Now Heavyrain as well.”

“Right. Right. Now all I gotta do is get Passenger all over me too, yes?” The two of them shared a laugh at their colleague’s expense. “By the way, when we were visiting my room. You didn’t happen to leave anything there, did you?”

“Nope. Got my keys, ID badge. Everything.” Warfarin replied defensively, going back to sipping her blood.

“So I’m not gonna sit down in my chair and suddenly get pricked by something, right? My door’s not suddenly going to unlock when I fall asleep, right? My midnight kettle isn’t drugged, is it?”

“My, my. Never took you for a conspiracy nut.”

“Warfarin, you do realize that if anything happens to me, Kal’tsit’s gonna be the one to deal with you. I saw that some of my spare badges had a certain red stamp on them. I think you know what those are.”

The vampire groaned at the man’s very credible threat. She hesitated for a moment, before blurting out, “There’s a small needle in the bottom of your box of thumb tacks. I was hoping that you would reach for it and think you just pricked yourself by accident. I was going to retrieve it when you were busy teaching classes.”

“I knew it!” Heavyrain yelped at the Doctor’s sudden shout. She froze in front of her open doorway, hiding behind the wall and looking warily at the Doctor. Just as she was finished getting everything ready, her two companions seemed to be fighting. “Sorry, just a little spat. We’ll talk about it later. Is everything prepared?”

Heavyrain gave a small nod before backing up. Without gesturing, she stared at Warfarin and the Doctor expectantly.

“Well, don’t mind if I make a house call.” Warfarin joked as she strode into the zebra’s room. It was downright spotless. Probably due to Heavyrain’s recent cleaning up. The vampire stepped on trashcan pedal, exposing just about nothing. Then, the closet. Which had rags with a small layer of dust on them. And a nearly empty vacuum cleaner. The vampire scoffed before turning around and patting the girl on the head again.

“Good job! The picture of perfect hygiene. Although, you didn’t have to try so hard for us two. Your room’s probably the cleanest to begin with.”

“T-thank you. Um. Feel free to look around. I don’t have much, sorry.” Not much she felt comfortable showing, at least. There were many things dear to her, but showing them off, even to the Doctor, felt too embarrassing.

The Doctor caught sight of a bookcase. Filled to the brim with comic books, it seemed like. Of all manner. Hardcover omnibuses, single edition paperbacks. All neatly arranged by series. In terms of genre, off the top of his head, the Doctor could see action, adventure, superhero, and some others. A few fantasy and scifi here and there, but the plots of them were better suited to the previous few genres, if the Doctor’s osmotic knowledge was correct.

He mumbled to himself, trying to figure out why Heavyrain liked these works so much.

“So, which one of these have you been reading recently?”

Heavyrain gingerly pulled out a hardback book and smiled. “This one. It’s about a soldier who leaves his army to uncover a conspiracy in his own country.”

“Seems a bit grim, don’t you think?” Looking at the rating on the corner, apparently it was meant for teenagers? The Doctor figured the content would be a bit over their heads. Then again, maybe that’s why young people would like it.

“Not really. He’s really tough. And his old allies always follow him when he explains the situation.” The defender had a sad smile on her face.

“I see. Sounds fun.” The man wondered exactly what drew her in. Escapism, perhaps? Or maybe just a fantasy of what could have been. Either way, he didn’t want to dig up old wounds. If that’s how Heavyrain chose to assuage her trauma, then so be it. “Don’t suppose you have any recommendations for me, do you?”

Heavyrain let out a little gasp as her eyes darted over to her collection. What would the Doctor even like? Maybe this one… No, that was probably too childish for him. This one too slow-paced. Another one too romance oriented. She glanced back at the man looking at her expectantly, her heart threatening to pound out of her chest. At least until a hand was placed on her shoulder.

“Sorry, that was probably a bit too open ended. Let’s try to narrow it down. Let’s see. I don’t have a lot of time to read, so how about something short. Maybe something I can stop and start in between working. But, at the same time, I’d like it to last for a while since I don’t really have time to get new stuff.”

“Ah, then, um, how about this one?” Heavyrain pulled out a volume as thick as her arm. “D-don’t be scared by its size. It’s a collection of works.”

“Wow, I remember when this series was just a quaint little thing. The artist really went to work, didn’t they?” Warfarin noted as the Doctor flipped through the pages. Heavyrain nodded happily. “So, uh, does it have an ending yet?”

Heavyrain fidgeted bashfully. “Uh, it’s kind of hard to do that. I mean, there are story arcs every once in a while, but…Every volume is usually self-contained. And there’s no grand narrative, and…”

“At least you’ll always have something to look forward to then, right?” The Doctor flipped through the book, looking for a publication date. “I wonder how long this artist has been making these if Warfarin over here could remember its start.”

The vampire pouted. “Hey now. I’m old, but you’re making it sound like I’m as decrepit as the lynx. If I remember correctly, it was a couple of decades ago. I saw the first chapter on a bookshelf once while I was traveling around.”

“Right.” Heavyrain beamed, her normal taciturn nature gone. “The creator always manages to publish things consistently. There’s never a big decline in the quality of their jokes or art, either. Although no one really knows what they look like. Only that they publish through a Victorian company.”

“Remind you of someone?” The Doctor glanced over at Warfarin, who rolled her eyes in response. “Who knows, might be another vampire like Doctor Blood over here. If that’s the case, then you’re gonna need a new shelf for all their works in the future.”

“Yes. I might.” The Kuranta let out a small giggle. Her smile bright enough to light up the room. “Miss Warfarin, would you like to borrow something as well?”

“Hmm. Alright.” The medic acquiesced. Refusing Heavyrain was too painful for her. “Just one thing, nothing with vampires in them, alright?”

“O-okay?” Heavyrain replied hesitantly. The zebra fretted again as she began rapidly scanning her collection. She had already picked out a few candidates, but Warfarin’s comments had thrown her plans awry.

“Sorry. It’s nothing against those works. I just find most people’s depiction of my kin a bit irritating. I’m fine with being depicted as a bloodsucking monster. That can be cool in certain cases. The other depictions though…”

“Other depictions?” The Doctor asked as a disgusted look crept onto Warfarin’s pale face.

“Know how some people are squeamish about me drawing their blood?” The Doctor and Heavyrain nodded. “Well, there exists a polar opposite group. One who’s way too enthusiastic about the prospect. I’m glad I don’t have to hunt people down for donations, but…eugh. I’m still a doctor at the end of the day. I’ll use a needle, and nothing else.”

“What are you talking about? Wait. Oh.” The Doctor stifled a laugh at his own revelation. Meanwhile Heavyrain was covering her blushing face. The Kuranta had certainly seen such depictions before in her comics. She never liked the idea of another living being biting into her, so she seldom felt anything but fear from those scenes. But, the way they were always framed now made a lot more sense.

“So, do you ever?” The Doctor asked teasingly. Heavyrain’s blush turned a deeper red.

“Not particularly. It’s way more painful than people think. And dirtier too. Are you offering Doctor? If you are, make sure you wash yourself beforehand.” Warfarin’s red eyes fell upon the Doctor as she bared her fangs. Her gaze more predatory than amorous. The man put his hands up.

“Alright. I can see I’m pushing things too far. Stop looking at me like I’m a walking blood bag.”

“Dang it. Was hoping you’d fall for it.” Warfarin sighed, looking strangely disappointed. Heavyrain finally worked up the courage to drop her hands and picked out a small book for the vampire.

“T-try this one. It’s a mystery comic. It’s fine if you don’t like it. It’s pretty short to begin with.”

“A mystery, huh? I guess I’ll wrack my head over it when I have time then.” The vampire smiled innocently, as if the prior exchange had never happened. “Now, there’s actually one last thing I wanted to know about before we wrap up for the day. Every once in a while, I see you scribbling something in a little book. If you don’t mind me prying, what’s in it?”

Heavyrain let out a little squeak as her body became ramrod straight. “Um, i-is it really that important?”

“Was just curious, is all.” Warfarin softened her face as Heavyrain sat and curled up on her bed, the zebra’s head resting on her knees. “If it’s something really personal, then feel free to say no. We all have our secrets.”

Heavyrain glanced over at the Doctor, who shrugged and gave her a gentle smile. She took a deep breath before taking a small, brown, leather book out of her coat pocket. She pried off the button latch and held it out in front of her, hand shaking slightly as Warfarin grabbed it. Once the item was completely out of her reach, Heavyrain buried her face in her knees.

“J-just don’t laugh, okay?”

The vampire turned each page with great care, treating Heavyrain’s journal like an ancient manuscript. On each page were entries that followed a similar format.

Matterhorn. Gave me an extra roll. Should help out in the kitchen. Kirara. Lent me some manga. Need to give her some comics in exchange. Suzuran. Smiled and told me to have a good day. I want to give her a hug. And so on.

A grin bubbled up and froze itself onto the vampire’s face. The Doctor chuckled knowingly as Warfarin kept flipping through the journal.

“Aww. Aren’t you such a good girl?” Warfarin patted Heavyrain on her head, although the zebra couldn’t be coaxed out of her curled up position in the slightest. “Now I see what Closure was talking about. So, were you gonna write a new entry after today?”

Heavyrain let out a little moan at Warfarin’s light teasing. A small downward motion of her head was all she could muster to answer the vampire’s question.

“In that case, why don’t I leave a little something for you.” Out of her pockets, Warfarin pulled out a small metal seal.

“Do you just carry that around with you?” The Doctor asked.

“Of course not. Usually it’s on my desk. But, today’s one of the few times when I can actually use it for its intended purpose.” Warfarin flipped over to an empty page and pressed the seal down. Leaving behind a blood-red emblem in the shape of a bat. After blowing on the page a few times, the vampire cheerfully handed Heavyrain her journal. “There you go! Now, when you write about me, you’ll know where to put it!”

Heavyrain was entranced by the red seal. She shifted her book so the ink danced in the light. It emanated a pleasing smell that reminded her of a newly printed book.

“I think I saw Mudrock and Vigna with that seal once. When you three came back from a mission together.” Warfarin rolled her eyes at the Doctor’s comment.

“Don’t remind me. Crazy kids just willy nilly branding themselves. The physical mark might have washed off, but I can still smell them if they’re so much as on the same floor as me.”

“S-smell? Brand?” Heavyrain looked up, somewhat apprehensively but also somewhat excitedly. Warfarin’s mark looked ordinary enough, but the idea that it might be enchanted like something out of her comics seemed cool.

“Yeah, it’s –” Warfarin hesitated for a moment and sighed. “You know what, I’ll give you the short version. Vampires use stamps like that to mark their friends, leaves our scent on them even if its washed off. I was planning to gift you one for your room to begin with, but since you seem to carry that journal with you all the time, I’ll probably know where you are. Within a few dozen meters, at least. Can’t exactly pinpoint you any closer than that.”

“I see. Thank you, Miss Warfarin.” Heavyrain giggled softly as she closed her journal and put it back into its resting place. In a pocket on the inside of her coat.

“No problem. You’re a good kid. Good kids get rewards. Say, Doctor. Want a brand of your own?”

“Oh no. I’m not falling for that. I still have to throw all the badges you stamped.” The Doctor smugly answered. “If you want to find me, you’ll have to do it the old fashion way.”

“Suit yourself.” Warfarin shot a conspiratorial glance at Heavyrain. “Good thing I befriended an assistant today. What do you say, Heavyrain? Want to help out the Medical team?”

The Doctor let out a groan, dread bubbling in his gut. With Heavyrain’s stealth capabilities and desire to repay kindness, he could already foretell all the schemes fermenting in the vampire’s head. “Just make sure none of your plans actually hurt anyone, alright?”

---

“We’ve been seeing an uptick in the number of patients requesting experimental treatment. This is the new schedule for the next batch of trials. I know that this requires extended shifts from everyone, but rest assured that you will all be appropriately compensated.” Touch handed out a timetable to a group of medics. Some of them grumbled at the sudden overtime, but otherwise got busy preparing themselves for the long haul ahead.

“What’s up this time? Did someone make a breakthrough?” One of the medics asked.

“I’d say it’s just a change in bedside manner.” A jovial medic replied. “Think about the people we’ve had being the face of the trials recently. We had Doctor Gavial, then Doctor Folinic, then Doctor Warfarin of all people. Brilliant, no doubt. But their bedside manner leaves something to be desired, no offense intended.”

“So who’s handling the patients now?”

“I heard it’s that cute defender. Heavyrain, I think her name is. Said something about helping out Doctor Warfarin.”

“No kidding? Saw her yesterday. She was a nervous wreck, constantly tripping over her words trying to convince an old man to take some pills. Then the guy tried to refuse, but she got all crestfallen. I have never seen a patient reverse their attitude so quickly!”

“Seems a bit manipulative, don’t you think?”

“More manipulative than letting Gavial strongarm them? Sometimes literally?”

Touch smiled to herself as the medics chattered among themselves. She was initially hesitant to listen to Warfarin’s suggestion, as was common sense. Nonetheless, it worked out this time. She had to be cautious of the vampire for the foreseeable future, though. If Warfarin was allowed an inch, she would take a mile.

---

“Alright, let’s figure out what this thing is.” The Doctor grumbled to himself as he crouched underneath his bedroom desk. True to her words, a small spring-loaded tube was attached to the top, connecting to a shielded syringe. Right underneath his box of thumbtacks. How did she even install it while they were talking? Did she put Heavyrain up to the task? No, that didn’t seem right. The Kuranta trusted the Doctor more than Warfarin by a long shot. Enough that she would never willingly betray his trust.

Regardless, it was time to remove the offending trap. The Doctor gripped the bottom of the device and pulled down. Only for a second syringe to shoot out from the bottom. Pricking his hand and drawing a small amount of blood.

“Aggh!” The Doctor withdrew his hand in agony, blood pouring from the small puncture wound onto the floor. His eyes widened as he saw the spring fold back in, readying itself for another stab. “I need to call someone to get rid of this for me. After I patch myself up.”

The next day, the device was labeled a biohazard and promptly disposed of. Warfarin’s salary was also docked for the next month. This did not deter her from extracting more of Doctor’s blood than was formally requested by Kal’tsit.

Chapter Text

“Nice job!” Akafuyu shouted over the clacking of buttons. “Now let’s smash these boxes, there’s a great vendor in the next zone.”

“Don’t they belong to the people we just rescued?” Akafuyu turned around to look at the Vulpo mercenary sitting on her couch. That piece of furniture was getting slightly more use than usual, given she often sat on the floor when playing games.

“I mean, yeah. But it’s not like they’ll mind. See, I can break them all I want and they won’t even flinch.”

“Because we just beat up all those bandits.” Cutter had a conflicted look on her face. Her personal code told her she shouldn’t shake down people beyond what her contract stipulated. Then again, watching the numbers go up on the screen, and that pleasing clinking whenever the coins were whisked into her character… “But, you are right. This is just a game.”

“Heh. These games know how to tempt ya, don’t they?”

Cutter nodded as her fellow guard turned around and went back to playing. Since booting up Akafuyu’s game, the two of them seldom exchanged more than the occasional word. Akafuyu provided advice every once in a while. Half of which to trick Cutter into doing something stupid, it seemed like. Nonetheless, it was an enjoyable reprieve.

---

Astesia sighed contently as she set down her mug of coffee. Due to a slew of scheduling conflicts, she couldn’t meet up with Mayer until the evening. That had its benefits, though. Such as the view of the stars outside her bedroom window.

“Wow, who’d you bribe to get a window this big?” Mayer chirped out as she fiddled with the knobs on a telescope. The astrologer let out a small grumble. Her calibrations were definitely going to be off. At least her friend was enjoying herself, doing whatever it was she was intending. “My room just has the one porthole. When it’s not covered up by all my spare projects, that is.”

“From what Kal’tsit told me, this used to be an old observation room. The panoramic window was meant for lookouts to have a wider view of the surrounding area. With modern camera systems, such measures have become obsolete. Thus, the staff here converted it into a guest room. When she heard of my talents, I was allowed to have this room in place of a standard one.”

“No kidding? Ever get frightened when we go through choppy weather?” Mayer tapped on the glass pane that bubbled outwards. Pressing her ear against the glass, the hissing wind was barely drowned out by the hum of the enormous machine cruising through the wastes.

“Initially. But I’ve seen the bulkheads seal enough times to not mind anymore.” The Liberi poured herself another mug’s worth of coffee. “How’s Elena doing these days?”

The Anaty scoffed playfully at Astesia’s question. “Doesn’t she live right next door? Why don’t you ask her? You’re her sister. I’m just a coworker from another department.”

Astesia giggled as she watched Mayer go back to fiddling with her telescope. It seemed like she finally found Polaris. Now where was she going to go from there? “That may be so, but there are things she cannot confide to me. Her pursuits are as esoteric to me as my astrology is to everyone else. I can smile and nod whenever she talks about her latest theories and inventions, but I’m ill-suited to give any useful feedback. Someone with better knowledge would be a better conversation partner than I.”

“Ah. I get where you’re coming from. Can’t say I know too much, I’m buried up to my neck in my own projects as is. But she’s getting along well I think. Haven’t heard any bellyaching from the senior craftsmen about her, anyways.”

The Anaty rolled her neck around as she worked out the kinks and sores. “Geez, don’t know how you star-people handle being hunched over all day. I figured orienting a telescope would be easy, but these are way different from the hobbyist models you find in stores.”

Mayer’ laughed as an idea began formulating in her head. “How about…I make an algorithm that can automatically calibrate this for you! That ought to save you time. Yeah, you can key it in to match a star’s spectral signature. Hmm. Gotta compensate for atmospheric refraction and inclement weather, but that’s part of the fun.”

“My traditional methods work well enough for the time being. But I’m willing to helping out if you still wish to pursue such an invention. It would certainly be a boon to future astronomers.” Astesia flashed a polite smile. Mayer was quite like her sister in a way. Perhaps Rhine Lab attracted that type of free thinker. She would need to consult the stars after this. Based on her premonitions thus far, she would have to look after two eccentric engineers soon enough.

---

“Blech.” Ambriel stuck her tongue out as she shoved a shot glass away from her. The glass, filled with foaming brown liquid, joined an entourage of other half-finished drinks. “Still got that bitter aftertaste to it. Come on, there’s gotta be something that’ll mask it.”

“I’m afraid that just the nature of alcohol. Masking it can’t remove it outright.” Tequila gave a strained smile as he searched up and down a cabinet. He had tried sodas. He had tried fruit juice. He had tried chocolate. Ice cream. All manner of sugary cocktails he could come up with. And the Sankta still didn’t like any of them.

The Perro took a deep breath. He had dealt with difficult customers before, especially in the arms business. A picky drinker was hardly the worst. But the sheer cluster of rejected drinks hurt his pride like nothing else. At this point, there were enough shot glasses to play beer pong and still have extras.

“Ya know, there was this one Liberi girl that made a drink I liked a lot.” Ambriel replied smugly as she traced the rim of a glass. “Think I saw her come in with you a few times. Why don’t you ask her for advice?”

“Maybe you can get something from her next time then.” Tequila replied through gritted teeth as he slid another glass over to Ambriel. “Try this one.”

The pink-haired angel took a sip. She cocked her head to the side, seemingly satisfied with Tequila’s latest creation. The man was beside himself. The drink probably had more sweetener than booze in it, but if a customer’s happy, a customer’s happy he supposed.

“Gotta give you some props.” Ambriel casually remarked as she swirled her drink around. “Figured you’d crack by now with all my BS demands. Tell you what, next time I get a paycheck, I’ll reimburse all the stuff I wasted.”

“Wait, are you serious?” For a brief moment, his smile faltered. Getting played by an easygoing girl like her, he really lost his edge since Dossoles, didn’t he? Or maybe he was just used to how Rafaela acted that Ambriel caught him off guard.

“Come on. A slacker like me can pick up a phony a mile away.” Ambriel smirked. “You like maintaining that casual appearance, but you’re a real serious guy, ain’tcha? Was just wondering if you’d crack and peel that mask off if I ribbed you hard enough.”

“Screw it.” Tequila groaned. He popped open a bottle of beer. No need to maintain the facade of a jovial bartender anymore. Hell, it might do him good to have a drinking buddy.

“I figured it was just a stereotype, but you Sankta really like your sugar, huh?” As the golden-brown lager went down his throat, a bitter and slightly metallic aftertaste followed. A part of him wanted to taste some of her rejected drinks out of morbid curiosity, but he decided against it. Odds are, they would make him more nauseous than a night of binge drinking.

“Sweet things make my taste buds happy. Which makes my brain happy. If you ever need snacks, most of the Sankta on board have a network to sneak sweets past all the doctors. Real pain if you ask me. Medical’s nearly as bad as the Notarial Hall sometimes.”

Tequila let out a sad laugh. “Seems you’ve got it rough in Laterano as well.”

“It’s better than most places. But it’s way too stuffy for me. Too much talk of duty and obligation and law and everything. I’m content anywhere there’s a warm bed, good food, and stuff to buy. How about you?”

Tequila gave her a cavalier smile as he finished the last of his beer. “Let’s just say I’m still figuring that out at the moment.”

“Soul searching, huh? Sounds fun. Good luck with that.” Ambriel replied nonchalantly. Tequila couldn’t tell how sincere she was with her words. “Say, I heard you run a weapons shop as a side hustle. Think you can source some AP rounds for me? All my missions seem to involve cracking open armored thugs as of late.”

“Of course. Of course.” Tequila slipped back into his entrepreneurial persona. “Uh, just give me a little bit. Bullets are a bit tricky to source, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”

Ambriel’s face brightened up significantly. “Really? Promise? You wouldn’t be breaking a cute girl’s heart now, would you? That’s worse than fraud, I tell ya.”

The Perro’s smile wavered she looked at him expectantly. Miss Ch’en scared him because of how strong she was, but he could at least avoid her. Instructor Dobermann unnerved him because of how familiar she was with his situation, but he could brush off her patronizing. The Doctor saw right through him the moment they met, but at least didn’t pry. This girl, though, he really couldn’t handle. But, he let himself be boxed in like this. No choice but to see where this path leads. He just hoped it didn’t end with one of those Executors busting down his door.

---

Myrtle puffed her cheeks as Gitano shuffled a deck of cards for what must have been the tenth time by now. The Durin thought she’d win at least one game by now, but no. Blackjack. Poker. Old Maid. Even Go Fish! All losses. She was probably tilted by this point, but she was too incensed to give up now. The caster had to slip up or pity her at some point.

“Your future’s looking grim, dear.” Gitano replied smugly as she dealt out cards. “Today was meant for relaxation, why don’t we do something more entertaining?”

“Absolutely not!” Myrtle slammed her hands on the table. “I know you’re cheating! I just have to figure out how. Now, can you show me that one trick again? The one where you let the cards fall into a pile? It looks super cool!”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t let me shuffle the cards every time.” The Elafia thought to herself. A few fancy card tricks was all it took for her to have shuffling privileges permanently. Myrtle watched the red cards fall effortlessly into a neat pile, completely oblivious of the cards Gitano had stowed away during her trick.

“Just be happy we aren’t playing for money. I can usually fleece an entire month’s salary from a good game night.”

“Wait. Wah! That’s a lot of snack money. Screw this! You gotta teach me some tricks instead of using them on me. Come on. I promise I won’t tell anyone it was you!”

Gitano giggled to herself as she watched the small Durin hop in her chair. She didn’t need a premonition to see Myrtle getting banned from gambling in the near future.

---

“There.” Glaucus handed Liskarm’s shield back to the Vouivre. “The circuit should be more efficient now. Give it a try.”

After her companions put on protective goggles, Liskarm’s horns glowed blue as a bright flash filled the room. Then another. And another. She lowered her shield, panting but satisfied.

“Still on my feet. Good.” She said with a slight smile. Just in time to see Glaucus fall backwards onto the floor. The Aegir pursed her lips in slight annoyance, but did nothing else. “Glaucus! Are you alright?”

“Must’ve miscalculated the amplification effect. A stray arc probably disabled my exoskeleton.” The tinkerer absentmindedly muttered as she fiddled with her prosthetics. “Can you help me up?”

“My my, little Liskarm here got quite the boost from a smattering of outside help.” Franka teased as she helped Glaucus up. Her partner rolled her eyes in response. “But, if you can stand on your own when using your Arts now, there’s no need for me anymore is there?”

“Clearly.” Liskarm flatly retorted, to which Franka made a mock crying face. “That means you can focus on being a patient first.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you cared that much. You’ll still visit old Franka every once in a while, won’t you? To remember the good ol’ days?”

“If I remember to, so don’t count on it.”

Glaucus smiled at the ensuing banter. “You two are very close, aren’t you? Me and Blue Poison are the same. Perhaps we should all get together sometime.”

“A double date, you say?” Franka asked as she wrapped an arm around Liskarm. “How about it? We don’t want to disappoint our new friend, do we?”

Liskarm rolled her eyes and sighed before swatting Franka away. “As long as we can ditch this unwanted fourth.”

“Hehe. We’ll see. I’ll let Blue Poison know. She’ll be happy to have more people to bake for.”

---

Doctor Kal’tsit walked through the halls of the Rhodes Island dorms. It was a stark contrast to the old days when exposed wiring and faulty ventilation discouraged anyone from congregating. Now, every nook and cranny hummed with the lively chatter of patients and staff. Whereas once the only residents onboard were adherents of Theresa, now people from all walks of life called this place home.

That certainly was not without its difficulties. The myriad values and lifestyles of Rhodes Island’s denizens were a neverending source of headaches. Fights broke out occasionally, and everyone stuck to their usual cliques more often than not. Rather than a unified mass, the operators were more akin to a cluster of islands, each as isolated as the nomadic cities and settlements they all came from. But, it seemed that Amiya and the Doctor were at least making some headway on that front.

“Sonya, do we really have to sign up for this?” She heard the voice of a young Ursus from a nearby rec room. Istina, if her ears didn’t deceive her.

“Lada and Rosalind have been buggin’ me nonstop about it, so I figured why not? It’ll be way more fun than having to listen to them talk our ears off about what they did.”

“I see. So have you thought about inviting Natalya?”

“Why? If she wants to, she can do it herself.”

“You know she won’t. Plus, she needs it more than we do.”

“Tch. Alright, fine. I’ll drag her out of her room when we go sign up together.”

As Doctor Kal’tsit rounded a corner, she came face-to-face with a familiar hooded figure, styrofoam cup in hand.

“Doctor Kal’tsit. Odd to see you out and about. Excuse me.” As the Doctor sidestepped and walked past her, the Feline followed. “Is there something you need?”

“How has Amiya’s social project been progressing? The fact that I’ve yet to hear anything extraordinary about Doctor Warfarin indicates that nothing catastrophic has happened, at the very least.”

“We’ve definitely seen an uptick in unsanctioned experiments, but that’s par for the course at this point.” The Doctor sighed as he leaned his head back and poured boiling hot coffee into his mouth. “Aaah. I’m gonna need more of this for later.”

“Do well to not overexert yourself. I understand that you have been the linchpin of this, just as you are in the field. Never forget that while creating a cooperative environment for our operators is important, it is more vital that they perform well in combat. A wounded heart is far more preferable to a broken body.”

“I certainly don’t need to hear this from you. But you have a point. The main issue is how many emails I have to write to get everyone ready on top of my normal duties.”

“Is that so? Should that not be the responsibility of Human Resources?”

“Well, technically yes. But you’ve seen the list of participants thus far. A lot of them only I and a select few really know well. Asking their friends to type something up wouldn’t work. Too much potential bias. Not from someone the other person might trust like me or Amiya.”

“A burdensome inevitability then.” The ageless lynx gave a rare smile as she looked at the menagerie of mayhem that had come to define the Rhodes Island dorms. Music of every genre, film viewings, book clubs, operators and patients running wildly through the halls as someone chased them. It was noisy and obnoxious, but in an endearing way. “But the benefits speak for themselves. There is no more lethal poison to prejudice than experience. Than the realization of commonality among distant strangers. This program provides a contribution to our mission that no medicine truly can.”

“I agree. But, the big difficulty is going to be whether or not we can scale this up. Since everything kind of depends on HR screening applicants and me advising everyone. Then there’s the selection bias. The only people that are in are people that want to join in the first place. Even shy folks like Estelle and Heavyrain still enjoy social interactions on their own terms. The same can’t be said for people who see this initiative and decide it’s not for them. Ah well, guess these issues apply to every proof of concept. Speaking of, Amiya participated in the first batch. I’ve joined in for every round. How about you?”

“No.” Kal’tsit replied.

“Unusually terse.” The Doctor chuckled to himself as Kal’tsit’s face remained neutral. “Fair enough. It seems like you’ve got secrets. I won’t force you to reveal them if you don’t want to.”

“You speak as if you do not have secrets of your own.”

“Yeah, but the difference is I can’t remember what they were. So in terms of mentality, I’m probably closer to most of the operators than I am to you. Anyways, I should get going. I’ve got a lot of emails to prep for the next batch.”

“Oh? Who’s being included this time?”

The Doctor let out a long sigh. “Gladiia, somehow. I guess Specter kept bugging her about it. Enya and her maid are taking an extended leave, so they decided to goof around. Rosemary wants to sign up as well, I guess she was talking to Amiya and got excited. Make sure to remind her when we work out the dates. I think Ling is also trying to drag Dusk out of whatever hole she’s painted for herself. There are still some spots open, so I’ll probably have to do even more work whenever whoever signs up.”

“I see. I certainly don’t envy you. As trite as it is, I wish you good fortune in the coming days. It sound like you’ll need it.”

---

Phase Four Groupings

Zima-Gladiia

Ling-Pallas-Sesa

Rosmontis-Ptilopsis-Saga

Dusk-Kjera

Rosa-Pramanix

Istina-Breeze

Leto-Click

Doctor-Silence

Gummy-Hung-Aurora

Chapter Text

“Doctor. Doctor.” La Pluma chirped as she trotted up to the person in question. “Me and Scene are ready to go, but Manticore hasn’t shown up. I don’t know what to do, so I thought I should ask you.”

The Doctor flipped through his phone for a moment before nodding. “She’s here, don’t worry. You did read the file I gave you, right? Manticore’s a bit on the shy side, so she’ll probably be hanging in the background. Just give her a chance to get comfortable first.”

“Understood! I believe we should start with touring your room, Miss Silva!” Lens rolled up and lightly tapped the Liberi’s leg.

“Huh?! Okay, if you say so.” La Pluma immediately walked out of the room towards her own abode before the Doctor could interject. Scene followed close behind her, sitting on two of her buggies to keep pace. Which was then followed by a floating notepad slightly obscured by an invisible jacket. The Doctor sighed. What a motley crew.

---

“We’re here!” La Pluma exclaimed to an empty room. It was her room. “Hmm?”

The Liberi looked around. She went to her room first just like Scene’s robot had suggested. But no one was there. Then she saw something unusual out of the corner of her eye. A yellow sticky note. Did Ernesto leave a message for her?

“I think Miss Scene’s buggy broke down. She’ll be here as soon as it reboots.” The note said. The handwriting was shaky and jagged, like the person was being held at swordpoint to write it. La Pluma’s senses tingled, the same way they would in the middle of a battle. There was someone else in the room with her. Was this what the Doctor meant about Manticore?

“I see.” La Pluma nodded as she stood in the middle of her room. Aside from shifting her weight from one foot to the other, the Liberi did nothing as minutes passed. There was the sound of rustling clothes in the corner of her room, but La Pluma couldn’t see anything there except a floating notepad. “Do you want something to drink?” She asked casually to the new specter haunting her place.

A small squeak was uttered as the notepad jolted up. A small yes was written by a floating pen. Wordlessly, La Pluma took a shaker out of her cupboard. She hemmed and hawed as she looked at the many colorful bottles and cans lining her kitchen table. The Liberi girl zoned out as she worked with practiced movements. She juiced a few fresh lemons, poured in some tea, scooped out some syrup. All without having to measure or pause. A few shakes and twirls later, and a rich orange brown cocktail was being poured over ice.

“Don’t worry. It’s nonalcoholic.” La Pluma said as she placed the glass on the counter and backed away. She smiled expectantly as she waited for her guest to take it. A hand print appeared on the glass as it was lifted up and the liquid poured away into nothingness. The Liberi cooed in awe as Manticore steadily downed the entire drink.

“Would you like another?”

“If I’m not imposing…” A note was held out in front of her.

“Miss Scene would also like to try!” Lens exclaimed in its usual energetic tone as it puttered inside. Scene was sitting on the ground, freshly dismounted from the buggies carrying her. The Pilosa stared intently at the empty glass floating in the air. More enamored by what it once contained than anything else.

“Alright. Just give me a second.” La Pluma replied as she began preparing another cocktail.

“You seem to be quite adept at this Miss Silva. Is this your passion?” Lens asked on Scene’s behalf. Rafaela ignored the little robot completely as she focused on her work. Soon, two full glasses were placed onto her desk. Both were quickly taken by invisible hands which floated them over to Scene, who took hold of one very slowly with both hands. The Pilosa brought the rim of the glass to her lips and slowly sipped. The water line lowering by a fraction of a centimeter. The photographer let out a quiet but happy noise as she stared at the brown liquid and her own reflection within.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I used to work in a bar back in Dossoles. If you ever want something new to drink, let me know. Hmm?”

La Pluma’s toilet flushed suddenly as her door opened. “Sorry, I was so anxious before this that I forgot to use it beforehand.” A note on the door said. Manticore’s notepad fell to the ground as her pen started moving again.

“Also,” the invisible assassin began. Her handwriting was less shaky compared to before, taking on a more cursive style. “I’m sorry for being assertive, but I would like to show off my room next.”

She hesitated for a moment as her two companions stared intently at the notebook. “I just realized that it might be hard if you can’t see me, but I don’t really like walking down the hallways normally. Can I give you directions instead?”

“Do not worry, Miss Manticore.” Lens chirped out as it wheeled over to where Manticore was. “Master Closure has fitted us camera buggies with all manner of combat imaging. Nightvision, thermal, you name it! We will be able to follow you without any difficulty. And please be mindful when you’re swinging your tail around!”

“Sorry. Miss Rafaela, why are you standing next to your door?” Manticore’s notepad floated over to the Liberi in question.

“You said you wanted to show off your room, right? So I thought we were leaving.” La Pluma answered bluntly.

“Eh? But, we haven’t even been here that long.”

“Hmm…” The Liberi spaced out as she considered the invisible girl’s words. After a few good minutes, La Pluma finally decided to give a brief tour of her rather mundane possessions. Scene opted to sit still and sip at her drink, following the guard with her eyes instead. By the time the Pilosa was done, the tour was wrapped up, and the three were on their way.

---

Much to the amusement of everyone in the halls, Scene was once again riding her buggies. Although this time she was on a mission. And she had La Pluma in tow as they followed an invisible woman briskly walking down the hall. When they entered, La Pluma gasped in surprise. Everything inside had yellow sticky notes attached, like an impromptu museum.

“The Doctor always keeps me company.” A note on top of a stack of journals said. La Pluma flipped through them, alternating rows of cursive and chicken-scratch filling the lines. “You get used to reading his handwriting after a while.”

The Liberi nodded in agreement. “The Doctor is great at explaining things to me, too. There are a lot of things I don’t really get, but he always makes it so that I can understand.”

Next to a few cans of spray paint was another post-it. “Ethan taught me how to draw graffiti. He has powers like mine. I really want to make more, but I don’t know where.”

“I believe some of the clubs on this ship specialize in wall art. If you would like, Miss Scene and I can request they give you some blank paneling to work with. Along with extra supplies!” Lens exclaimed happily as it bounced up and down using its suspension.

“Is that really alright?” A fresh note was placed on the ground in front of the buggy. “I’m not really that good yet.”

“There are plenty of beginners, or people that just want to try. I’m sure that people would appreciate what you make if you put in the effort!” Scene nodded in response to her friend’s statement.

“Oh… Hmm…” La Pluma stared at the cans of spray paint. “I saw people spray stuff back in Dossoles, but Papa or Mayor Candela would always get angry and order people to clean it up.”

“Drawing on other people’s stuff isn’t nice.” Manticore wrote, her notepad hovering in front of La Pluma’s face. “But if you have permission, it should be alright.”

The slow jingle of metal caused Manticore and Rafaela to look at Scene playing with a string of dogtags.

“I like collecting these. To hold onto the memory of others.” A note read.

“There were plenty of soldiers who would do the same back in Bolivar.” La Pluma chimed in as she tried to read the inscriptions. Many were rusted or sanded away with time. The ones she could read were in Sargonian, and thus beyond her understanding. “Were these your friends?”

“No.” Manticore wrote out slowly. “Some were enemies. Others I found already dead. A few I knew, but I never really had friends. No one saw me as anything but a weapon.”

“T h e n w e c a n b e f r i e n d s.” Scene said softly. La Pluma’s eyes widened slightly, shocked to here the photographer’s voice for the first time.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Miss Scene is quite slow, even by Pilosa standards.” Lens said on its owner’s behalf, who in turn hugged the buggy. “Before Lens was retrofitted with a voice module by Master Closure, Miss Scene often had difficulty making friends who had the patience to wait for her. Many got impatient and left her alone in a huff of annoyance. For the longest time, Miss Scene chose to engross herself in her work, deciding that doing so was the best way to communicate with the rest of the world.”

Manticore’s pen made a few strokes. But she kept crossing whatever she had to say out. The notepad was set down on her desk, and a faint breathing could be heard from her bed, an indentation giving away the assassin’s position. Slowly, the girl with violet hair and a large scorpion’s tail appeared, looking nervously at her two companions.

“Um…thank you.” She replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “But…can you really be friends…with someone you can’t see?”

“We’ve been having fun so far, right? Rafaela said without hesitation. “People might think I’m stupid, but I’ve fought since I was young. I’ve felt your presence since you entered my room.”

“Lens has been running thermal imaging since this morning to track your movement. And Miss Scene has noticed the disturbances you leave behind when you move.”

“D u s t. W i n d. L i k e a s t o r m.” Scene explained.

“A storm…Yes. I guess I’m like that.” Manticore curled her tail forward and run a hand along it.

“It’s great when the Doctor and the other operators praise us for it, right? I don’t get a lot of things, but I know how to fight. So when people I like praise me for it, it makes me happy.” La Pluma beamed as she sat next to Manticore. Scene soon joined her, sitting on the other side of Manticore. The scorpion-tailed girl was too flustered by how close her compatriots were to do anything. She didn’t even notice Lens puttering around on her floor, finding the perfect angle.

“Say cheese!” The little robot cried out. A bright flash startled Manticore, causing her tail to whip outwards. La Pluma jumped out of the way in the nick of time, the stinger barely missing her neck.

“I’m sorry!” Manticore said tearfully. “I-i l-lost control. I-if you don’t want to be friends, then…”

“There, there.” La Pluma patted the girl on her head, stroking her wings and hair. Just like her Papa did to her. Just like the Doctor occasionally did. “Plenty of my friends have fought me. Miss Ch’en did when we first met.”

“Uuu…” Manticore wiped away her tears and gave the Liberi a shy smile. “T-thank you…I’ll repay you somehow. Promise.”

“Umm…” Manticore turned to Scene, who was sitting in the exact same spot as before. As if nothing had happened. Or perhaps she had simply decided that freezing was the appropriate response. “Sorry I scared you like that...but why did you take a picture?”

“P i c t u r e s a r e p r o o f. O f e x i s t e n c e. I f y o u h a v e a g o o d m e m o r y, i t d e s e r v e s p r e s e r v a t i o n.” Though Scene’s voice sounded delicate and light, Manticore could hear the ironclad conviction behind it.

“Ruined settlements. Bustling towns. Areas ravaged by catastrophes. Untouched wilderness. Miss Scene has captured them all. Prizes help fund her ventures, by they aren’t the important part. What’s important is capturing proof of such things, so that they can be shared with others. Happy times. Sad times. A memorial of those that lived. Of all that exists. These are things Miss Scene believes should be shared. So consider this our gift to a new friendship.” The robot bounced happily as Scene held up her phone.

“Ah…my contact, yes. Alright.” Manticore took the device, treating it with all the care in the world as she put in her number. When she handed it back to Scene, the Pilosa slowly moved and punched her finger across its screen. In a few minutes, the photo that the buggy had taken of the three of them was safely sent to Manticore’s phone. The girl smiled happily as she looked at the three of them sitting together.

“If you would like, we can also print out a copy.” Lens chimed in.

“H-huh? Um…You’ve already done so much for me…I couldn’t possibly…”

“As Lens has said before, awards and funding are nice, but Miss Scene adores above all else making things that provide lasting memories for people. Since we’re friends, we’ll charge you for materials and then a simple service fee, nothing more!”

“Ah! I just remembered.” Rafaela exclaimed as she crouched down to talk to the robot. “I wanted to send a postcard to Papa. Maybe I can send him some pictures, too.”

“Of course, Miss Silva! Let’s move over to our studio!”

---

La Pluma patiently waited on Scene’s bed, sitting still as the sloth slowly swiped a tablet. Entire seconds passed as she looked at one image before switching to another. Moving to another folder took around ten seconds for her to move her hand and double tap, the fastest movement the Liberi had ever witnessed from Scene. Manticore sat in a chair, this time fully visible, smiling to herself as she watched her friend work.

“I apologize for the delay, Miss Silva.” Scene’s little robot puttered at the foot of the bed. “Miss Scene is currently struggling to find the proper files. It seems she has forgotten where she saved them.”

Scene’s foot lightly tapped the buggy, as if reprimanding it for revealing something embarrassing. La Pluma simply leaned onto Scene’s shoulder and looked at the tablet screen.

“It’s fine. Take all the time you need.”

“If we may, Miss Silva. What purpose do you have for these landscape pictures?”

“I was thinking about sending my papa a letter showing off all the places I’ve seen while working for Rhodes. I’m sure it gets boring in that jail cell of his. Some scenery must be nice.”

Scene’s finger stopped as the Pilosa stared blankly at her tablet. One minute passed. Then two. Then three. Manticore fidgeted in her chair, her tail wrapping around one of its legs. She wasn’t that concerned about this new knowledge, but she was uncomfortable with how Scene just stopped. La Pluma showed no concern as she continued staring over the Pilosa’s shoulder, waiting for something to happen.

“I see. Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear from you again.” Lens finally replied, tone as chipper as always.

When the photographer finally found the folder she was looking for, her head turned to look at Rafaela, who was inches away from her face.

“U S B? E m a i l? P r i n t?” The Liberi tilted her head in confusion.

“Miss Scene is wondering how you would like these sent for personal usage. If you wish for prints, we can also do that as well! It will take more time, however. And money.”

“Yes. Please do that.”

The sloth nodded as she got up and ambled over to her desk. After a little over five minutes, La Pluma was reading through a request form, staring at the various boxes and words of text in confusion.

“I think I should ask the Doctor about this. I’m not sure which one I’m supposed to choose. And I can’t decide which photos I should pick either.”

“No problem at all, Miss Silva! Please note that Scene and I are open from 10 to 11 AM, and then 3 to 6 PM. Assuming we are not out taking more photos, of course. We will endeavor to fulfill your requests within 1 to 2 business weeks, guaranteed!”

“Thank you.” La Pluma gave Scene a smile as the sloth plopped back down on her bed.

“Umm…I already finished everything for mine.” Manticore said as she meekly handed her form to Scene. The photographer didn’t move from her supine position, but used her eyes to scan the document in question. “I can…pay up front if you want.”

“Splendid, Miss Manticore! We will try to print your request out as soon as possible. Do not worry, we will accept payment once your request is complete!”

“Ah, we still have a lot of time. Would you like to talk?” La Pluma asked.

“Miss Scene would be happy to! Is there any topic you want to start with?” Lens chirped.

“Well, I want to hear her talk some more. It doesn’t matter what. I just think it’s cute.”

Scene’s cheeks reddened slightly. “A r e y o u s u r e?”

La Pluma nodded as she scooched closer to Scene. “I’m used to listening when bartending. If there’s anything you want to say, I’ll listen. The same with you, Manticore.”

“H-huh. I…I’m not really good at…conversations.”

“But you’re nicer than most drunks. And make more sense.” La Pluma said nonchalantly. “We’re friends, right? Friends can talk to each other about anything.”

Scene began talking as slowly as ever about inane topics. What she ate yesterday. Where she hoped to go in the future. Manticore was initially content to passively listen, but soon began talking with a little prodding from La Pluma. What did she want to draw? Did she practice calligraphy? Where does she get her perfume from? Rafaela listened attentively, never once showing signs of boredom.

Find something to do outside of fighting. Her papa always told her that, alongside Ernesto and the Doctor. She still didn’t really understand why that was so important, nor did she care much to find out. But, she was at least good at listening to people, and that made them happy. And her by extension.

Their talk continued well into the night, even though it was all mundane small talk. Scene’s sluggish speech, Manticore’s shyness, and La Pluma’s spacey nature meant that the flow was akin to molasses, but none of them minded. It was nice to be able to talk at their own pace for once.

Chapter Text

Icy blue eyes locked with red eyes as an Ursus and an Aegir glared at each other in a common room. They remained unflinching even as other groups filed out nervously. Gladiia was a full head taller than the young vanguard, but Zima didn’t care. She had met worse monsters in Chernobog, some fancy lady wasn’t anything special.

They stood there squinting at each other. Waiting to see who would make the first move.

Zima clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. She didn’t want to budge, but having a stare-off all day was way more boring than just playing along. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road. The others said I could have first dibs, so might as well go to my room.”

The Abyssal Hunter said nothing as she tailed the Ursus at a leisurely pace.

“Look, I’m only doing this cuz my friends wanted me to. Don’t expect me to be all buddy-buddy with you.” Zima said coldly as she walked down the hall. The Ursus quickened her pace slightly, but her partner didn’t seem to mind, easily matching the new tempo. The Aegir’s footfalls were far too light, almost soundless if Sonya wasn’t listening carefully.

“On that, we have common ground.” Gladiia replied flatly. Sonya gritted her teeth as she kept plodding forwards. This woman was too damn stuffy. She reminded Sonya of the average Ursus noble, all high and mighty. Acting as if their dignity could mask their rotten core. At least Natalya had a degree of emotion in her voice. This woman, though, her disinterest really got under Sonya’s skin. The vanguard sighed, she didn’t really look forward to this like Lada or Rosalind did. But she didn’t have to make it harder on herself either. Might as well get some fun out of this.

“In we go. It’s a bit messy since there’s like five other people constantly crashing in my damn room.”

“Is that so? Do your compatriots not have their own quarters?”

“Yeah, right next door. But…” Zima shook her head, looking sadly at the door next to hers. “Look, we’re real close, yeah. That’s all there is to it.”

She ignored Gladiia’s skeptical gaze and soldiered on into her own room. Well, that was what HR listed it as. But the mattress was something Natalya picked out for her. Half the books she had were borrowed from Anna. Lada constantly left snacks for her. And Rosalind’s music CDs were left to linger as well, never picked up by their errant owner.

“Go ahead and touch whatever. Just don’t wreck anything.” Zima said dismissively. Gladiia casually walked over to the bear’s desk and picked up a letter opener. The Aegir used her thumb to trace the gold trim of the handle. Her emotionless gaze scrutinizing the craftsmanship of the knife.

“This is…” Gladiia began. Sonya couldn’t tell if she was impressed or puzzled at finding something so uncharacteristically fancy in her room.

“That’s Natalya’s.” Zima replied as Gladiia set the accursed thing down. “I took it from her way back when. Probably unnecessary these days, but I ain’t gonna give it back to her.”

“I see.” Gladiia replied in her usual tone. Impartial, distant, and polite. It was like talking to a brick wall. But Zima knew she shouldn’t be too mad. She wasn’t easy to get along with herself. At least Gladiia didn’t seem to look down on her. Well, physically the woman did. But not like a lot of the adults at Rhodes did. The way they pitied Zima pissed her off. She’d take indifference over condescension any day.

“You’re from Aegir, right? The Doc told me about you folks. Said you come from beneath the sea.” Zima began.

“Yes, we do.”

“I’ll take your word for it; never seen the ocean myself. So what do you think of the land?”

“Dry.” Gladiia’s face wrinkled in annoyance. “As for the people, you have done passingly for the circumstances you find yourselves in.”

“I hate it when people sugarcoat things.” Zima spat out. That was always what the teachers here told her whenever she flunked a test. “If you’ve got something to say, get it out of your system.”

The Abyssal Hunter’s countenance slackened as much as her eyes hardened. Zima felt a shiver run up her spine as what little civility Gladiia had disappeared, replaced with candid anger. The Ursus grit her teeth and locked eyes with the Abyssal Hunter again. Her primal instincts screaming to her that showing any weakness might be her end.

“You landfolk are too caught up in your petty strifes.” Gladiia began, her voice filled with venomous contempt. “Had you resolved them by now, our collective existence would not be hanging by a thread. One that is frayed and poised to break at the slightest disturbance.”

Sonya’s chuckle elicited a raised eyebrow from Gladiia. “Yeah, I get that. Trust me, I’m from Ursus. If the catastrophes and the cold don’t kill us, the nobles and the army will.”

“Army? Yes. The armies of Ursus have a great deal of strength to them, at least when taken as a potential aggregate. But…”

“They’re too corrupt to fight off anything tougher than an unruly mob these days.” Zima finished Gladiia’s thought. “They always used to plop recruiters all over our school bragging about how strong and badass they were and how we should join them. After Chernobog, I don’t exactly expect much from them these days.”

“If you think self-deprecation will earn my trust, I advise you to stop wasting energy.”

“Oi! Quit being so paranoid lady.” Zima barked back. The two of them scowled at each other again. “I ain’t gonna sing praises about Ursus any time soon. Only a fool would at this point.”

“Oh? Do you plan to change the course of things, little Ursus?”

“Pff. Yeah, right. Anna thinks she can, but I’m not that delusional. Couldn’t even change a school. Too boneheaded at the moment.” Sonya’s face fell slightly as she averted her gaze, shameful memories creeping up from the depths of her mind. “The way I see it, I’ll stick with Rhodes for a little bit. Learn how to fight, how to lead. Then I’ll figure out what I wanna do with my life from there.”

The Ursus sat cross-legged on her desk and flashed an impish smile. Despite the added height, Gladiia somehow still towered a full head over her. Nonetheless, the youth felt emboldened. “Who knows? In a few years, we might be able to help you in whatever little war you have going on.”

“A few schoolgirls not even a squad strong? Against an enemy that have killed seasoned warriors that rival the land’s elites?” Gladiia asked skeptically. She couldn’t fault young people for being hopeful. But hope alone would sadly not suffice.

“Not as we are. But who knows where we’ll be in a few years time. Assuming you guys last that long, of course.”

“Yes, assuming we have time.” The Abyssal Hunter uttered grimly, before relaxing slightly. “But at least you’ve got spirit. If we all survive long enough, you might have the experience to match it. Yes. Enough opportunity to carry on the fight.”

“Uh…Thanks, I guess.” Zima stammered out. Gladiia didn’t seem the type to give praise often, but the Ursus didn’t feel that moved by it. Behind that praise, after all, seemed to be a warning. She was about to ask for more, but Gladiia simply moved on, picking up a book from the disheveled pile on her desk.

“Your readings are quite diverse.” The white-haired woman casually remarked as she flipped through a light novel.

“Feel like borrowing something? Just bear in mind, half of those aren’t mine. So if someone comes knocking, I’m pointing them to you.” Zima teased.

“If I had time, I would. Some of these are quite advanced for a teenager, are they not?” Gladiia asked as she looked at a book titled Theory of War. She was familiar with it herself, having used it as a reference to familiarize herself with how modern land armies conduct themselves.

“What? You think me some lunkhead that only knows how to swing an ax around?” Zima growled out defensively. “You’re a squad lead too, ain’tcha? You don’t get to lead if you don’t have some brains.”

“Indeed. If that’s the case, perhaps this is appropriate for you. Perhaps I ought to ask for your thoughts on this author’s theories.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re talking like my babushka.” Gladiia frowned slightly as Zima chuckled to herself. “So, what do you like reading? With how hoighty-toighty you are, I bet it’s something with more words than ideas.”

“First of all, do not make assumptions. I can assure you I’m far removed from the hedonistic nobility you think serve as a baseline. And while I prefer my literature to have some substance, I will not belittle a piece of art simply for existing. They are their creators’ greatest legacy. Proof that those people once lived.” The Aegir’s passionate scolding caught Zima off guard. “With that said, technical manuals and paperwork are all I’ve had the opportunity to read as of late. It’s been far too long since I have had the luxury to crack open a novel.”

“Well how about it then? I’ve got a couple I’m bored of rereading.” Zima offered as she waved another book in her hand. Gladiia gave a slight shake of her head.

“Sadly, my days have been getting busier with my compatriots constantly running around.”

“Your comrades, huh? Think I’ve seen them before. Never really talked to them that much.”

“Yes. Skadi and Specter are quite the handful. Specter rather enjoys stirring up trouble when she can. Even with her illness, she remains an eternal gadfly. And Skadi…she’s far too inclined to solve everything herself without taking anyone else into consideration. Not to mention her tendency to approach every problem as parsimoniously as possible.” Despite her grievances, even Zima could see the slight smile on her face as she recounts her troubles.

“Heh. I get that. Rosa still acts like a pompous aristocrat sometimes, thinking she’s some tragic heroine from a book or whatever. And Leto still doesn’t understand when she’s beat. I swear, if I wasn’t around to stop her, she’d be dead already.”

“Such is the burden of leadership.” The two of them shared a knowing grin. Gladiia eyed the red earbuds hanging out of Zima’s pocket. “While we’re discussing the topic of the arts, what sort of music do you like listening to?”

Zima raised an eyebrow. “Huh? You sure? Figured you’d be the type that listens to classical stuff and hates everything made in the past century.”

“I don’t mind any kind of music. As I said before, all manner of art deserves at least an honest appraisal. But a small correction on my preferences. I much prefer jazz to anything orchestral.”

“That so? Well, my tastes might still be a bit too hardcore for you.” The Ursus said mischievously as she offered Gladiia her earbuds. The hunter declined, causing Zima to sigh in annoyance. The girl pulled out her phone and hooked it up to a boombox. With a tap, a harsh percussive beat pounded itself into the two operators’ ears.

“This is…” Gladiia began as synths overrode the sound of her own voice.

“Hard bass!” Zima shouted out. Her words barely audible over the music. Without thinking, the Ursus found herself tapping her foot to the beat. Any utterances from the Aegir were drowned out by the music, so she simply decided to close her eyes and listen.

By the time the song ended, the following silence was deafening. Gladiia was accustomed to every hum and creak of the massive landship, but even those sounded faint now after such a loud song. She couldn’t imagine how cacophonous it must be when wearing earbuds. A part of her worried about the state of the Ursus girl’s eardrums.

“So, what do you think?” Zima asked with an impish smile. “Probably blasted your ears out compared to jazz.”

Gladiia put a hand to her chin before nodding. “It does seem like good music to dance to. Perhaps a bit too fast tempo-wise, but I’m sure the someone sprightly would enjoy it. Hmm? You seem quite shocked at my reaction.”

“Uh. Yeah. Most older folks seem to think it’s obnoxious. They keep telling me to turn it down whenever I hang out with my friends.”

“I can certainly see the volume being an issue, but I take no umbrage with its musicality. In many ways, it is similar to jazz. There is an emphasis on energy in both genres.”

“Huh. Figured jazz was just for elevator music, or something old folks listen to when they wanna unwind.”

“Only because those old people were young once. When the genre first emerged, it was considered quite rebellious.”

“Cool.” Zima interrupted. “I’m gonna stop you here. It seemed like you were about to drone on about theory. No offense, but I don’t get any of it. I just like stuff that sounds good.”

Gladiia gave a curt nod. If she was offended, Zima couldn’t tell. “Very well. I will simply leave you with this. What I like most about jazz is its emphasis on improvisation. It is a genre that demands individuality. A single piece can be played a dozen different ways. It allows every player to leave their own mark. Proof that they lived. That they contained something within themselves that they had to express.”

“If you say so. Still a bit too easy for me. I like my music loud and hard.”

“Of course. Just take care to not deafen yourself. A leader must be capable of hearing the opinions of their subordinates after all. Both mentally and physically.” Gladiia said in her usual reserved tone. Sonya couldn’t tell if that was a joke or genuine concern. Either way, she shrugged it off.

The Ursus couldn’t believe it, but she was actually having fun. When she saw who she had been assigned, she figured it would be an afternoon of having some lady brush her off constantly. That was the impression of Gladiia every other operator she asked gave her. A humorous thought occurred to her. She probably knew more about Gladiia at this point than anyone but the higher ups. She could already see all the gossip hounds flagging her down later for the latest scoop. There were probably gonna be a few more morons to drive off in the coming days.

---

“You’re seriously just gonna let me in?” Zima looked at the open archway that led to Gladiia’s room. Gladiia herself was leaning against it, arms crossed in annoyance as the Ursus hesitated. “No vows of silence or anything?”

“Most people know to not pry. And any valuable secrets are kept in my workroom, which I assure you has far more rigorous security. So, will you continue to prattle outside my door or will you finally come in?”

“Alright, alright. No need to get snippy with me.” Zima strode inside as if it was her own room. It was far more barren than she had anticipated. For someone that went on and on about her appreciation of the arts, there oddly wasn’t much to look at. An old-timey brass phonograph sitting near her desk was the only flashy thing that caught Zima’s eye. Next to it was a case a large vinyl records.

“A collection of records from the land.” Gladiia answered tersely. Zima took a look at some of the sleeves, corners faded and faces wrinkled.

“If you Aegir are so high tech, why do you have something like this? Even my parents would think this stuff is ancient.”

“Art itself is timeless, young Ursus. The sound of a live performance, a phonograph, and a digital speaker are all different. Even the same song can take on a different tone, and subsequently mood, when played through different mediums.”

“Ah, I get it! You just like how it sounds.” Gladiia nodded as Zima smiled to herself. Half the words the Abyssal Hunter said went in one ear and out the other, but she realized that she could get Gladiia’s vibe and work off of that just fine. “Hey, what’s that weird radio looking thing over there?”

“You’ve already guessed it correctly. Although it’s only a small piece of the overall system. A proof of concept more than anything else. Do not haphazardly play with it!” Gladiia spat out as she pulled Zima’s hand away. The area where she touched pulsed with discomfort as Zima shook her hand.

“Right, sorry about that. It’s just basic instincts, you know? You see a device, you gotta start fiddling with it. So what makes this thing so special?”

“It’s intended to send out Extremely Low Frequency transmissions. Regrettably, Rhodes Island lacks the proper infrastructure for such things, so I’ve had to extensively modify the landship’s radio towers to get even a simple message out. Even then, considering our distance from the sea, I highly doubt anything would be readable by its intended recipients. Nonetheless, the pattern of transmission should be enough to let them know we’re still alive.”

Zima blinked blankly at the wave of jargon that just washed over her.

“It’s a radio that can penetrate seawater. I can only deliver short coded messages, but that should be enough to reestablish contact with my kin.” Gladiia said flatly.

“Oh, so you’re trying to call home.” Zima replied as she managed to put everything together. Home. Lada still had living relatives, but didn’t want to contact them. Natalya probably had plenty of distant family willing to take her in, but chose to stay here. Anna and Rosalind, it was hard to tell. Sonya herself didn’t care much, having resolved to stay with Rhodes until she found something better to do. And now here was this spooky, mysterious lady doing something so simple as phoning home. “So, uh, have you heard back yet?”

“Unfortunately, no.” The Aegir grit her teeth angrily, but Zima could see the worry in her eyes. “The most likely theory is that we simply lack the communications equipment necessary to properly receive their message. But, given the shape of things, there are many other dire circumstances that are equally plausible. I won’t bore you with the long history of our struggle, but let’s just say that we face a catastrophe, equal to that of the ones that plague the land.”

“That bad, huh? And I guess you’re asking our landfolk for help. That explains why Engineering has been spamming my inbox with messages begging me to get something out of you.” Gladiia’s face darkened immediately following this remark, and she took a small step away from Zima. “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna bother listening to them. If they want something, they ought to do it themselves.”

“Hmm. I’m grateful.” Gladiia smiled gently as she let out a tired sigh. “I can certainly sympathize with the desire to learn more. But the researchers here, brilliant as they are, are trying to sprint before they’ve even learned to stand upright.”

“There you go with your fancy talk again. You’re just like Istina, you know that? Always talking in metaphors when just saying it plainly would do.”

“She’s your friend that always has a book in her hands, yes? Heh. If that’s the case, perhaps I should’ve been paired with her instead. She would’ve made for a more engaging conversation partner.” Sonya glared in response to Gladiia’s jest.

“Hell no. Anna’s way too gentle. You’d roll right over her.”

“Do you take me for a mindless predator, little Ursus? One that can’t distinguish between friend and foe?” Gladiia’s posture stiffened again as she looked down at Zima with only her eyes, and the two were back to glaring at each other. Like two apex predators posturing against each other.

“There has to be a reason you lot spar on your own. Never once seen you in the training rooms.” The Ursus playfully jabbed.

“Of course. Skadi and Specter’s sense of rhythm has been dulled by their time on dry land, but they can still dance with poise and control. Our fighting techniques are best refined against peers.”

“Yeah, yeah, if you say so. Now that I think about it, your room’s pretty far away from damn near anyone. What’s the matter, don’t wanna be next to them?”

“I will admit, they have integrated into this place far better than I have. That is for the best. Abyssal Hunters like us must maintain our humanity at all costs.” Gladiia answered cryptically as she fixed her collar. “While they possess great martial prowess, their understanding of politics and technology is perilously scarce. Leaving them in Rhodes Island’s service is the best possible option.”

“In other words, you want to keep them safe, right?” Gladiia gave a curt nod as she relaxed, their posturing ending in a white peace.

“Skadi is part of another squad, but so long as I am the only captain aboard, I am responsible for their safety. You are the same, are you not? With that group of schoolgirls.”

“That’s right. I’m their general.” Zima flashed a toothy grin as she boasted.

“General? And what actions earned you such a high distinction?”

“It’s just some Ursus slang, is all. Had to bash in a few faces so they used the word with respect, but it was worth it.” Sonya let out an imperious laugh which gradually died down as her stomach churned. Damn it. The vanguard figured she’d already gotten over it. It was Gladiia’s fault. She asked why she crashed with her friends back in Zima’s room. No. Can’t tell her that. Sonya knew that wasn’t it.

“You harbor some grave guilt in your past.” Gladiia said softly. It wasn’t a question, simply an acknowledgment. The pale-skinned hunter sat down and gestured for the young Ursus to do the same, until they were both eye-level with each other. “The Doctor mentioned it before we had this meeting.”

“Wait, that sunnova–“ Gladiia put a hand up to interrupt her.

“He only told me vague details about you girls personally. I researched the Chernobog incident from Rhodes Island’s records, so I have a broad view of what happened. I apologize for dredging up unpleasant memories. If you wish to take a break, feel free to do so. If you wish for some time alone, I will not begrudge you.”

The young operator shook her head. “Nah. Dwelling on it just makes it worse. Ugh. Probably gonna have another rough night. Say, you seem to be put together. How the hell do you do it? There’s gotta be a secret, right?”

“Unfortunately, there is not.” Gladiia answered curtly, shooting down Zima’s hope as quickly as possible. “There were once many other hunters aside from the two here. As their captain, I was responsible for them. We faced our great foe, and I saw countless compatriots die. And the rest, I have found no trace of since our exodus onto the land.”

Her blood-red eyes belied a haunting melancholy as she squeezed her fists. It was so subtle, but Zima felt that her small movements alone were enough to crush through steel. “That day is engraved in my memories. The water dyed red with their blood. Their faces as they floated by. The unthinking mind considers hypotheticals constantly. One more training session. One different command. But, there is no use in despairing or obsessing over a theoretical past. I still have my duty. So long as I can move, I shall carry on the fight. So long as I can still think, I can still plan.”

“Tch. Already doing that.” Zima snapped at her fellow leader sadly. “Doesn’t stop the nightmares, though. That damn roiling in my stomach. Doesn’t stop the guilt.”

“Yes, that is often the most difficult part. I will not pronounce judgment on you. I lack the information and interest in doing so. But do not be too burdened by your regrets. The fact that you feel guilt in the first place means you’re not completely monstrous. Not yet, at least.”

Zima sputtered and coughed out a laugh. “Heh. Wow, you’ve got guts, you know? You’re the first person to suggest that waking up in the middle of the night and puking is a good thing.”

“It is not.” Gladiia’s eyes narrowed as she adopted a sterner tone. “Do not embrace your remorse. Doing so will consume you. But do not be eager to discard it entirely, doing so will render you a merciless beast incapable of understanding right from wrong. You can never fix the past. Whatever harm or injustice you have caused can never be truly mended. But so long as you are alive, you still have the choice to carve out a better future. That alone is what’s most important.”

“I…huh. That’s oddly hopeful, coming from you.”

“I do not speak of hope, Sonya. I speak only of possibility. Of opportunity. Now then…” Gladiia stood up and opened a sealed metal case resting against the wall. She pulled her polearm out with a flourish, cleaving the air in front of her. “You made a comment earlier about never seeing an Abyssal Hunter train before. The residents here know me far better for my prowess in dancing, but combat is simply another form of rhythmic movement, is it not? Would you care to join me for a training session?”

Zima shrank in her chair a little. With one swing, a gust of air had blown her way, enough to lift the front two legs of her chair off the ground. Nonetheless, she grit her chattering teeth and matched Gladiia’s gaze. “You ain’t gonna kill me, are you?”

“Do not worry. I will not cause any permanent harm. You will still be able to participate in any upcoming missions given some time to rest. Now come, little ‘general.’” Gladiia smirked as she pointed her weapon at the young Ursus. “Your path will be fraught with danger. Show me you can get stronger.”

---

Sonya let out a hiss as Lada placed another icepack on the vanguard’s forearm. Even Uman was pressing itself against its cage in distress at her many bruises.

“Maybe this was a mistake.” Gummy said glumly. “I mean, if we didn’t sign up then you wouldn’t have–“

“Quit being a worrywart. A few scratches ain’t nothing.” True to her word, Gladiia didn’t do any lasting damage when they sparred. But, boy, did she go to town on Zima. The vanguard blocked a single swing from the hunter’s spear, and her entire forearm felt like it was going to snap in half. She certainly knew why regular operators weren’t allowed to train with them now. Her movements were unreal. Even though she lost horribly, Zima found herself grinning. “That lady’s one helluva fighter, though. I’ll take the fact that I was still standing at the end of it as a win. Although she was probably going super easy on me.”

“It seems you had a pleasant time.” Istina tossed a small container of ointment to Zima. “I’m quite shocked. The rumors I heard about those Aegir were quite distressing.”

“Never thought you’d be one to listen to rumors, Anna.” Zima winced as she rubbed ointment onto the bruises on her shoulder. Gladiia had opted to jab her with just her hand whenever she closed the distance, each hit feeling like the thrust of a blunted spear. “The rumors are kinda correct. But they’re honestly just folks trying to survive, same as the rest of us. Just way stronger.”

“Really now? Make sure to not tell Rosalind anything, she’ll be trying to pick a fight with them every waking moment otherwise. What’s this?” Istina asked as she picked up a worn brown leather-backed book.

“Like it? It’s an Iberian book I yoinked from her room. She said it was a strategy manual or something, so I figured it be a good read.”

“Sonya, can you even read Iberian?” Istina asked as she flipped through the pages. If she could only pick out certain words here and there, Sonya would be hopeless. “And even if you did, you forget everything after you finish reading a book anyways.”

“Hey, it’ll be different this time. This ain’t just easy reading, it’s actually useful. Also, I was planning on finding a translator. So, uh, know anyone?” The vanguard asked shamelessly. Anna sighed at her leader’s impulsive decision. Another favor she’d have to ask from the book club.

---

Laurentina’s wild laugh filled the training room, much to her captain’s chagrin. A chagrin that heavily distracted Gladiia to the point of not being able to hit the operator twirling and dancing around her spear thrusts.

“Come on, Swordfish. I know you’re not the gentle type, but you could’ve at least been a little nicer to her.” Specter leapt over a wide swing as her comrade glared at her.

“Displays of affection are not something I’m accustomed to. Especially not with strangers.”

“So you took her out sparring instead? After giving her a pep talk that would put the drill instructors to shame? I’m surprised she could still walk after you were done with her.” She gleefully parried another jab as Gladiia charged past her. The captain was definitely distracted today.

“I am not as unrestrained as you, Shark. And do remember that this was your suggestion. If you were truly concerned about the safety of Rhodes Island’s operators, you shouldn’t have pestered me constantly.”

“Perhaps. But you needed this more than me or Orca did. For someone that harps on about how important the arts are to life, you’re all business these days. Admit it, you liked the little Ursus. Perhaps you see a little of yourself in her.”

“I will not fall for your provocations, Shark.” Gladiia sighed as she lowered her spear and fixed her clothes. “I shall be departing soon to establish contact with other nations. Until I return, you shall be the acting liaison for us Abyssal Hunters.”

“Oh? Little old me? And I assume you want me to watch over those young girls as well?” Specter raised an eyebrow teasingly, causing Gladiia to sigh once more.

“If you so wish. As long as it doesn’t jeopardize our primary mission.” Specter hissed out a laugh behind a toothy grin. That was basically a yes.

---

Subject: Joint Doctrine Training

From: Instructor Team

To: All Combat Operators

Hi folks, Dur-nar here. After a discussion, we, the training team, have decided to hold more joint training sessions to exchange doctrine and techniques between various groups. Most notably, the Aegir that you all probably know as the Abyssal Hunters have also decided to join. Don’t get too excited now, I know plenty of you are chomping at the bit to have a go with them. But you still need to be approved by at least three different instructors. Then the hunters have to accept themselves. All sparring sessions will also be under strict supervision by a drill instructor at all times to avoid serious injury. And major damage to the training rooms. Hopefully we can all learn something new from our peers in the coming days.

Rhodes Island Combat Instruction Team

---

Chapter Text

A young Feline was staring at a terminal in her hands, studying the contents as if her life depended on it. Today’s date. Meet up at Common Room 254. Very important. Amiya had put it in for her. Kal’tsit stopped by this morning to remind her. Yes. Now she remembered. She would show off her room to someone else. And then see other’s rooms. But who? She had forgotten to write it down, and no one had told her so far.

“Excuse me, Doctor Ptilopsis.” Rosmontis pulled on the white robes of an orange-eyed Liberi, who turned to look at her. The owl’s gaze reminded Rosmontis of an examining machine, and her pulse quickened as the medic stared unblinking at her. “D-do you know who my partner is?”

“Accessing database…” Ptilopsis replied monotonously. “Please hold… Rosemary. Group 3. Additional members. Joyce Moore. Saga.”

“Saga. Hold on.” The Feline punched the name into her terminal. A file popped up. A photo of a smiling Perro in eastern monk garbs. She looked around the room, but couldn’t find anyone that resembled the woman in her picture. She tried again with the other person. Only to find a digital doppelganger of the medic standing in front of her.

“You are Miss Moore?” Rosmontis asked. Ptilopsis was quietly snoring, her head drooped downwards. The Feline stood on her tiptoes and poked the medic’s cheek.

“Affirmative.” Ptilopsis slurred out as she shook herself awake. “Apologies. This unit must routinely enter sleep mode. If such an event occurs in inconvenient times, please reboot system. Caution: do not take percussive or acoustical measures. Such things are unnecessary.”

“I see. So you’re like me then?” Rosmontis asked as she stared at her terminal. “I forget things often. So the doctors here gave me a terminal to help me remember. Speaking of remembering, have you seen Saga anywhere?”

“Querying: Saga. Last audiovisual recording – One month ago. Rhodes Island cafeteria spicy foods eating contest. Saga placed second. First place – Operator Mizuki. Many operators reported gastrointestinal issues following the contest. Ptilopsis was required to work overtime 3 hours, 27 minutes, and 4.2 seconds. Ptilopsis has since lodged a formal complaint to Human Resources for 3 minutes and 4.2 seconds of unpaid overtime. Case status: Pending.”

“Here’s where you’re supposed to be!” An aggravated voice cried out as a black haired Perro was lightly shoved into the room.

“My many thanks, good sir! Where it not for the kindness of strangers such as yourself, I would have surely caused great grief to my companions.” Saga beamed a grateful smile to the frowning man, a man who wore a cooking apron.

“Saga, this is the third time this month you’ve wandered into the kitchen because you forgot where you were going. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back before the lunch rush starts.” The man walked away shaking his head, cursing under his breath.

“Command: Describe the location and activity of – operator Saga – in the past two hours.” Ptilopsis said in her usual robotic tone.

“Despair not, my feathery friend.” Ptilopsis bristled at Saga’s words. “I first woke up at sunrise, as is proper. After a hearty meal, I realized I had forgotten where our congregation point was, and so entreated strangers to direct me. It was good fortune that the cafeteria staff, ever steadfast in their charity, guided me here. And even gave nourishment for the journey ahead.” The Perro answered happily as she held out a styrofoam container of skewers. Rosmontis perked up as the fragrant aroma of grilled meat and seasoning filled room.

“Culinary compensation detected. Ptilopsis will consider this appropriate for your previous appellation.” The Liberi replied as she looked at the white styrofoam box hungrily.

“Food? Hmm…” Rosmontis looked at the clock on her terminal. “But it’s not lunch time yet.”

“Aye. But food is to be enjoyed when you wish to eat.” Saga replied. “If you hunger not, we can simply heat it up later. Now then, whose domicile shall we sojourn to first?”

The little Feline raised her hand in the air. Amiya had told her how much fun this was. She couldn’t remember what the Cautus said specifically, but the excitement remained all the same. And so, the three of them were off, following the map Rosmontis had left for herself.

---

“Don’t tell Amiya or Kal’tsit about this.” Rosmontis whispered as she twisted a key into a lock on the bottom drawer of her bedstand. “Miss Closure gave me a spare, but I’m not supposed to open this without one of them with me.”

“I do not remember consenting to being an accomplice.” Ptilopsis sidestepped until a bed was between her and the Feline.

“It’s fine. You won’t get into trouble so long as I control myself.” Rosmontis replied as she clasped the drawer and paused. “I don’t like having to look at this either. But I want to show something to someone. It’s important.”

The only thing in the drawer was a plain wood picture frame, faced down. Small shaking hands picked it up. Rosemary took deep breaths as she turned in around. Saga knelt close by without a care in the world while Ptilopsis slowly shuffled closer.

“Ace, Scout, Bluishsilver.” The Feline whispered sadly to the picture frame, blinking away tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Look. I’ve made new friends. I wish you could meet them. Don’t worry, they’re good people. Rhodes Island has been taking care of me like always. Kal’tsit, Amiya, and the Doctor are all doing well, too.”

“Departed companions, I presume.” Saga spoke softly as she placed a hand on the Feline’s trembling shoulder. “They look like fine fellows.”

“They were family. Their deaths made others sad, too. The other operators made a memorial down below. But I don’t like going there.” Rosmontis opened up her terminal again to remind herself why. “It stinks of alcohol.”

“Hmm…” Saga put a hand to her chin. “I ought to pay a visit there later. Spirits I am not opposed to, provided they be used for merriment on the departed’s behalf. But to inflict controlled pain to drown uncontrolled pain merely poisons the heart further.”

“A drunkard’s best friend is a priest.” Ptilopsis muttered, although she was distracted by the pile of bulkheads stacked in the corner of the Feline’s room. Cross-referencing available combat footage, they must have been what Rosmontis wielded. “Query: These are your weapons, yes?”

Rosmontis nodded as she hugged the picture frame and put it back in its resting spot. Locking the drawer, the emotions she felt soon faded away.

“Woah. I keep my naginata close at hand just in case, but this is truly something else. Do these not require maintenance?”

The Feline shook her head. “There are no moving parts. They are just slabs of metal. I move them. They crush our enemies.” She answered in her usual soft voice. “I take them to Engineering to get them cleaned or repaired, but they stay here otherwise. For practice and exercise.”

“Exercise? I remember the older monks who would spend the wee hours of the morn reciting mantras, claiming to be able to see and change the world in ways the average person cannot. Though I tried to emulate them, I never could reach the state they did. Nonetheless, have you tried meditation as part of your training?”

“Meditation? No. Instructor Pith has me train by focusing on controlling those blades. She calls it building muscle memory. It’s strange, though. I’m not sure what muscles I’m building when I use my Arts.”

“Muscle memory? I see!” Saga beamed. “I know not of Arts, but what a varied world they are if they can be trained the same way a swordsman is trained. Nonetheless, meditation is a great tool to help clear the mind, which warrior or caster alike can benefit from. What say you, Ptilopsis?”

“Meditation: Ineffective. Rhodes therapists have recommended such treatments before. Said treatments have proven ineffective for my conditions.”

Rosmontis clacked away at her terminal. “Because of your implant, right?”

The Liberi straightened up, arms stiff as her side. “Error: Your query is denied. Insufficient clearance.”

“Are we not friends, dear Ptilopsis. Surely thou could confide in us.” Saga ribbed the Liberi on. Contrary to her normally passive nature, Ptilopsis stood her ground.

“Denied. Relationship value less than required. Searching for acceptable answer. Symptoms of Ptilopsis’s condition are not the result of conventional neurological complications associated with narcolepsy.”

“It’s okay, Ptilopsis. There are some things that people can only share with those closest to them. If she doesn’t want to tell us, we shouldn’t make it.” Rosmontis pat Saga on the back. “We can try meditating together later.”

“Very well. Do not worry, the practice is not nearly as harrowing as most make it out to be.” The Perro turned her head away as a bright blue plastic folder caught her attention. “What would this be? Hmm…Mathematics. And reading. Ah, this must be your school work.”

“Yes.” Rosmontis picked up a worksheet, only for her mood to suddenly drop.

“Warning: Detecting severe mood swing from Rosemary. Advise caution.” Ptilopsis said from behind Saga.

“This humble sheet appears to be causing you a great deal of distress, what grave sin has it committed.” Saga asked innocently, completely unfazed by whatever danger Ptilopsis thought was present.

“I don’t know.” Rosmontis spat out in an annoyed tone. It probably wasn’t anything important. That was always the case. The Feline was always more angered at not knowing why she felt something. With a huff, she pulled out her terminal again and looked through her assignment planner for the worksheet in question. She found an entry, about a month ago. The anger that was bubbling up dissipated as she realized what had happened.

“Ah, I was feeling sick that day, so I never finished this. By the time I did, the teacher decided to just not count it. Or even grade it. Which made me frustrated since I had Blaze help me through it.”

“Blaze. Please describe the level of aid she could provide on academic matters.” Ptilopsis asked skeptically.

“She knows how to do basic stuff. But she’s also bad at explaining things.” Rosmontis giggled to herself. She had forgotten what the older Feline taught her, but it seemed to elicit a happy memory from the fog of her mind. The fact that she could not recall how to do any of the problems on the page, and the fact that said page was covered in Blaze’s doodles told her everything she needed to know. “Maybe you can help me.”

Ptilopsis shook her head. “Ptilopsis’s academic tutoring time is occupied by Ifrit. Who has a retention rate of approximately 19.6 %. With a margin of error of 4.3 %.”

“Persistence is the key for that one, then.” Saga began. “If a test has 5 questions, then she must be taught 25 questions in kind.”

“Do you wish to volunteer? Doing so would greatly lower Ptilopsis’s stress levels, allowing for more efficient recovery.”

The monk let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Regrettably, my intellectual pursuits end at what most would consider elementary levels. The knowledge of higher academies is far beyond me. The only meager offering I have is spiritual guidance.”

“Hmm…” Rosmontis glanced back at the drawer she had sealed. She wanted to see more of the outside world. But, that world was harsh and she often lost control. Even now, the doctors still hesitated when she asked for permission to leave the ship with the others. “Perhaps, alongside your meditation, I could use some guidance as well. I don’t really get a lot of the world still, but I want to learn. The world is…complicated.”

“Ho hoh. That’s certainly the truth. I have found how ignorant I am rather quickly.” Saga nodded sagely. “But let us reserve such talks for another time. I do believe my own domicile is close to yours, dear Feline. It would be a simple hop over, should you be ready.”

“Hmm…Let me check first.” Rosmontis opened her terminal again, looking for any list she might have left herself. “I can’t find anything, so if you want to move, I’m good to go.”

“Fantastic!” Saga gleefully exclaimed, rousing Ptilopsis from her sudden slumber. “Now, my friends, let us sojourn onward!”

Ptilopsis let out a small sigh as Saga ran out the door. “Operator Saga is currently moving in the opposite direction of her intended destination.”

“Should we stop her?”

“Accessing database. Running predictive algorithm. Negative. Despite having poor navigational skills, it is highly likely that Saga will make it to her intended destination before us.”

“Oh? How likely is it that we beat her if we run then?”

“Still unlikely.” The horrid sound of grinding metal caused Ptilopsis’s hair tufts to twitch in surprise.

“Then how about if we ride this?” Rosmontis asked as she clambered onto one of her weapons.

“Caution: Unauthorized usage of Arts detected.” Despite saying this, the Liberi’s face relaxed slightly. Almost forming a smile. “Administrative override authorized. Do you possess the capabilities to support two individuals?”

---

“Wow! Such novel locomotion.” Saga muttered as she watched Rosmontis lower the slab carrying her and Ptilopsis down to the ground. “If I had know you were planning such a voyage, I would have accompanied you.”

“Perhaps next time.” Rosmontis replied. Floating on her weapons had become second nature to her at this point, but plenty of people had asked for a joyride. It seemed to be happening more and more these days.

“Unexpected.” Ptilopsis blurted out as she entered Saga’s room. Based on the Perro’s personality, she had figured it would be austere. Or laden with food. What she found was neither of those. Saga’s room had the flare of…a shockingly normal, Rhodes Island dorm room. Although uncharacteristically devoid of any nourishment whatsoever.

“I see the confusion in your eyes, my feathered friend. To answer your most pressing question, I do not cook for myself. I must accept only the charity of others, of which the cafeteria is more than happy to oblige. And though I may be a monk, I am not scornful of modernity. My own countrymen were quite enthused to share their many curious devices with me.” Saga replied as she waved a portable game console around. “It’s quite amazing how much can be stored on these devices. A traveling family once visited our monastery when I was a wee girl, and the games they had back then were so simple compared to now.”

“Indeed. Ptilopsis has indulged in running a simulation game on her leisure computer. I have already developed three different approaches for victory given the worst possible start. Perhaps we could arrange a session together in the future, if you’re willing to learn.”

“Wouldn’t this count as a distraction?” Rosmontis asked. The Feline herself couldn’t get into gaming much. She forgot too much, which made it hard to pick up the hobby. The frustration of picking up a game, putting it down for a few days, and coming back with no idea what was going on or what to do was too much of a hassle for her. But she knew a few operators that would spend all their free time playing games.

“Now, now. I am not like Kirara, who barricades herself in her room for days on end. Whom the search and rescue teams have become quite familiar with. This is moderated leisure. No more than an hour a day. Well, maybe two or three, should I be privy to such free time. Hmm…Ptilopsis, what has stolen your attention so?”

The Liberi stared at a painting framed on Saga’s wall. Lines of ink danced in curves and waves to form a forest, half of bamboo, half skyscrapers. “Cross-checking database. This painting’s style is traditional Yanese. But the content seems contemporary. A fresh painting. Who is the artist?”

“Oh, that was a gift from Dusk.” Saga answered plainly.

“Dusk?” Rosmontis searched for any mention of that name. “Hmm. Doctor Kal’tsit said I should leave her alone. Lava did, too. Is she a recluse like this Kirara?”

The Perro monk chuckled as she looked at the painting as well. “Perhaps at a glance, but reclusives are as varied as all other people. Her heart is quite soft, perhaps too soft. When I heard that she had taken residence here, I thought it proper to greet her again, having once been a guest for some ten years in her home.”

“Ten years?” Ptilopsis asked.

“Master Dusk said twas only from one autumn to winter. But perception is an interesting thing. The self oft struggles to grasp the world as is, even one such as myself is woefully inept in that regard.”

Ptilopsis furrowed her brow as she tried to process the information she just received. Feeling a headache coming, she chose to shunt away her calculations and accept the information at face value, despite the math producing error after error.

“So did you manage to find her?” Rosmontis asked, engrossed by Saga’s account of the mysterious woman.

“Of course! It is rather hard to miss her residence, even for me. Once I crossed the threshold again, I found myself walking down a bridge built over a calm, winding river, the sun at an eternal afternoon. I chanced upon a pavilion where our resident painter was toiling away. Or perhaps idly sketching, I’m not quite sure. She was rather shocked to see me, but that is understandable.”

“Did she trap you in another painting? I remembered that Lava said she does that.”

“Haha. I believe she has recognized the futility of doing so. So she hurled a canvas at me, and when I pulled it off my face, I was outside her door again.”

“So this painting is a bribe.” Ptilopsis remarked. “Take this and leave me alone, is probably what Dusk intended.”

Saga shook her head. “I do not believe so. Dusk does not hand her paintings to strangers on a whim. She would not devalue her creations by granting them some worldly and pragmatic purpose such as a bribe. I believe this is a welcoming gift in a roundabout way. I must think of something to repay her later.”

“Dusk seems nice. I wonder if I should ask Kal’tsit to let me see here later. Hmm? What’s this?” The Feline picked up a cassette tape from a neat box filled with them. “These are…I remember seeing these in Medical. They are records, yes? My terminal can never play them. The engineers say its because of how old they are.”

Ptilopsis shrunk a little at Rosmontis’s comment. “Some of Rhodes Island’s records are stored in older formats out of budgetary limitations. Modernization of data has been an ongoing process.”

“Is that so? Now that I think about it, most of the residents here have a rather nostalgic reaction when I ask about cassettes. Whenever the instructors make me watch combat records, they are always stored in this format. I had assumed they were a commonplace tool.” Saga remarked, causing Ptilopsis to shrink even further from embarrassment.

“What’s stored on these?” Rosmontis asked as she skimmed the faded labels on the black tapes. There were written in some eastern language. Yanese? Or perhaps Higashi.

“Some of them are old songs, but most are prayers, mantras, and the like. Many of them have yet to be digitized, so I asked Closure to procure them for me. It has been far too long since I’ve performed the proper rituals, so I will admit that I have forgotten a bit too much. I imagine the old monks would be rather cross with me should they ever find out.” Saga answered sheepishly. “Would either of you like some? I have internalized some of these once more, so they would be most helpful in the service of others. Even if the spiritual aspects have no use, some still find them relaxing.”

The Perro handed the old cassette player to Ptilopsis. The Liberi took it, already far too familiar with such outdated systems given her job. She listened to the chanting, it’s steady droning choir pressing against her eardrums. At the very least, it was better than listening to the static-filled logs of doctors speaking into a cheap microphone. And more importantly, she didn’t have to pay attention to what any of the words meant. Her eyelids slowly drooped down as she felt her mind fogging up.

“She seems to be enjoying herself.” Rosmontis poked the Liberi’s cheek. Ptilopsis murmured and shook around, but stayed dormant. Lost in her own world.

“Now, now. I say leave her be. Bliss is a passing thing, no need to hurry its demise.” Saga said softly. The two tiptoed away from the slumbering Liberi, who was still standing up. Until they found themselves in front of Dusk’s painting yet again. “While we wait for her to stir, why don’t we discuss this. What do you think of this piece of art?”

Rosmontis took a closer look at the ink painting. A forest of bamboo and skyscrapers. The light of the stars meshed with the electric lights of an urban center. A river that gives way to a canal. The Feline didn’t know what to make of it. Kal’tsit could probably tell her about every minute detail. What movements or histories inspired it. Amiya might be able to tell her what emotions the painting stirs up. Blaze might tell her it looks pretty. But Rosmontis couldn’t make any personal connections.

“You are at a lost for words?” Saga asked innocently.

“Um. No. It looks nice.” Rosmontis blurted out. The Perro chuckled as she stroked the Feline’s head.

“Do not feel compelled to be polite. Dusk is rather uncaring of others’ opinions of her creations. And I myself believe that you ought to feel whatever you do. Or do not. You will find art that resonates with you. And you will find art that will not resonate with you. It is a fickle thing, as fickle as our lives.”

“Mmm. Okay.” The Feline gave her friend a small smile before holding up her terminal and taking a picture. “But, I still want to give you a good response. Maybe in the future, I will be able to connect with this painting. Until then, can you tell me what you think about it?”

“Myself. Hmm…Personally, I believe it’s simply Miss Dusk expressing her view of the modern world. It is quite different to the world she knew before she retreated into seclusion. Even my home is something of a time capsule compared to the nomadic cities of modernity. Mayhaps that’s why it draws such stirrings from me. Whether she thinks positively or negatively of these developments, I am unsure. The buildings are not anymore menacing than the trees. But they do not shine any brighter in their own lights either. But, that could also be my own feelings as well.”

“I see. Hmm…” The Feline stared at the device in her hands, contemplating whether she should log Saga’s words along with the picture. She shook her head. She promised to give her own conclusions. When the time came, she hoped she could say something like that. Looking through her pictures again, a map leading to Ptilopsis’s room was the last thing she downloaded. “Do you think she’ll wake up anytime soon?”

“She’s in rather deep sleep. I did not think a recording of a simple chant was enough to put her under so thoroughly.” Saga waved hand in front of the Liberi, who opened her eyes slightly, blinked, and then closed them again.

“Heheheh. Don’t worry. I know where to go. And I brought something to carry her. If you want, I believe I’m strong enough to carry all three of us.”

“Truly?” Saga’s eyes lit up as Rosmontis floated her weapon. After hoisting Ptilopsis onto the metal slab, the three of them soared through the hallways, causing a great deal of panic among pedestrians who had to duck out of the way.

---

“System defragmentation complete. Ptilopsis apologizes for the inconvenience–Hmm?”

Ptilopsis found herself laying on a bed. She propped herself up, then turned her head left and right as she stared blankly at her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was being in Saga’s room. But this was not that. Where had she been taken? A standard Rhodes Island dormitory room, it seemed like. But something was off.

“Wow, I wonder if she can turn her head around entirely.” Saga muttered.

“Negative. I do not possess such physiological capabilities.” Ptilopsis replied as she craned her neck over her shoulder to look at the Perro. “Query: Whose room are we in?”

“This is your room.” Rosmontis answered as she propped her weapon against an empty wall. “We rode here while you were sleeping. Doctor Silence let us in.”

“Acknowledged. Reevaluation of relationship value with Olivia required. Scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

“Do you always measure how close you are with people? I understand you’re a woman of science, but to reduce every connection you have to something that can be measure is…”

“Only for those very close to me.” Ptilopsis replied, a small smile on her lips.

“Ah, I see. It was but a jest.” Saga laughed at her own ignorance. “Yes, you have to forgive me. It appears I still have much to learn.”

Rosmontis let out a small gasp as she eyed the objects on the doctor’s desk. A pearl-white tape recorder. A personal laptop. Stacks of notes and blueprints. A stethoscope and drug vials. The Feline shook her head and took steady breaths.

“Caution. Detecting agitation from Rosmontis. Is something in this room causing emotional stress?”

“No, sorry. It’s not your fault.” The Feline replied softly as she looked away. “Things that remind me of lab equipment, occasionally cause bad feelings to stir. I don’t really understand it, but don’t worry. I know I shouldn’t destroy your stuff. It wouldn’t be nice.”

“Do not be concerned. Your immediate respect for my property already puts you above Ifrit, who required repeated instruction.”

“You’re like me, right? How do you handle looking at that stuff all day? Medical still fears me after I tore apart their machines by accident.”

Ptilopsis frowned at the young Feline’s question. “Our afflictions, similar. But circumstances are different. Ptilopsis, volunteered. You and Ifrit, could not.”

The Liberi picked up a stack of notes and caressed it with her thumb. The old proposal letter she had read time and time again. Even now she could pick out the character in Della’s writing. And the physical articles were only a small fraction of the data concerning that experiment, and Device #9.

“Della and I knew the risks. She made sure I was briefed on the worst case scenario long before I volunteered. My medical complications are unfortunate, but I do not regret what was done.”

“No regrets?” Rosmontis asked skeptically, her tail whipping behind her. “Is that what you what this Della person convinced you of? That not going through with your experiment would have made the world a worse place?”

“She was my friend. And she paid for our folly far more than I did. There is a reason only I am here.” Ptilopsis replied firmly. Her brows lowered in a rare show of anger. “Discovery and danger have a high correlation. The foundation of medical science is paved with the bodies of patients and researchers alike. We chose to make a sacrifice. We did not fail, despite the drawbacks I suffer.”

The owl’s frown softened as she relaxed and stared tenderly at the young Feline. “This does not excuse experimentation on those with no choice. What happened to you and Ifrit should have never been allowed. The ones that did such research have forgotten the guiding principles of all scientists.”

“I…” Rosemary looked down at her own feet. Partly out of confusion, partly out of shame. When the Liberi had started talking about her research, Rosemary had figured she was like every other scientist outside of Rhodes Island, who saw those they toyed with as nothing more than stepping stones. Or maybe that she was coerced into being a test subject. That would have made things so much simpler. But the way the Liberi talked, even through her robotic tone, was filled with conviction. She didn’t get it, like a lot of things she had seen about the world. But Joyce seemed like a good person, and so, all the Feline could mutter was, “Sorry.”

The doctor cocked her head to the side in confusion, until Saga stepped in.

“Do not be too ashamed of youthful folly.” The monk began as she pat Rosmontis on the head. “Part of living is learning to overcome your own image of the world. Until what you see is not an image, but the world itself. It is only by proving ourselves wrong that such growth can happen.”

Rosmontis purred as her ears were softly pressed down. Ptilopsis relaxed as the situation was defused. She supposed she had Saga to thank for that. The conversation had become unexpectedly heavy, so perhaps it was time to divert things to more fun topics.

“Doctor Silence recommended I take on additional hobbies. Would either of you care for a game?” The Liberi asked as she opened a cabinet filled with board games.

“That’s quite the collection.” Saga uttered in awe. “You must be quite popular during game nights.”

“Among recreational players, yes. I have detected heightened enjoyment from those that relish in challenges. There is a sharp decline among profit-oriented players, however.” The owl replied with a hint of playful pride. “Ptilopsis has been barred from betting in poker, chess, go, and many others.”

“Game…Hmm. Are there instruction sheets in there?” Rosmontis asked. The girl liked spectating board games, but seldom participated.

“Feel free to keep them on hand. If Saga is unfamiliar, she will need them as well.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure to write them down in my terminal, too. That way, I can play it again with you later.” The kitten sat down as Ptilopsis began setting up a random game she had.

“Do not underestimate me, dear doctor. I may be ignorant now, but mastery comes quite easily to me. Also, if you would permit me to use your microwave, I believe my food would serve as a wonderful companion to our merrymaking.”

As expected, even when holding back, the medic was leagues ahead of her friends. Saga was far too earnest, betraying her moves without the slightest hesitation. That made countering anything the monk did a breeze. Rosmontis, though, picked things up fairly quickly. Even if she had to review the rules every once in a while, her memory problems had no effect on her overall game sense. The Feline was getting more and more engrossed into the game as time went on. To the point where she completely ignored the skewers she was munching on happily just a little bit before.

“A child like her. I hope she has a bright future.” Ptilopsis thought to herself as she played the game on autopilot. “I should look over Della’s notes again. There might be something there that could help. Even if doing so violates Rhine Labs’ confidentiality protocols, something good can still be salvaged from our work.”

---

“Rosemary, would you mind explaining to me why you decided to ride your Arts units through the halls yesterday?” Amiya asked the sitting Feline, who bowed her head. “You were lucky that no one got hit, but you know how dangerous it is to ride them in closed spaces.”

“Sorry, Amiya.” Rosmontis replied calmly, her ears pressed down against her head. “I just wanted to have fun with my new friends.”

The Cautus sighed. “Just be careful in the future, okay? We don’t want people getting hurt. Moving on, how were Saga and Ptilopsis? I’m sure it was a bit weird befriending people older than you, but I hope you got along.”

“They were fine. Excuse me, I need to go.” The Feline replied tersely as she got up.

“H-hey! Rosemary!” Amiya called out as Rosmontis bumped into Blaze. “D-did I do something to make you mad?”

“Heheh. I think our little kitten’s just going through a rebellious phase.” Blaze grinned as she hugged the little Feline and ruffled her hair. “She’s probably treating you as Amiya, her boss; rather than Amiya, her friend. I saw this little one eating with Ptilopsis this morning, so I can guess that she’s made some new buds.”

Rosmontis nodded. “Excuse me. I promised Miss Saga I would meet her. We’re practicing so we can beat Miss Ptilopsis.”

“Beat her? Aww. Little kitten’s picked up a hobby. And she’s quite competitive at that.” Blaze exclaimed as she squeezed Rosmontis closer, who pouted at the older Feline’s fawning. Amiya giggled in response, partly out of relief. Ever since Chernobog, she had worried about Rosemary’s mental state. The Feline put on a brave face, but the way she hesitated when people tried getting close to her was a great deal of concern for Kal’tsit and Amiya alike. At least, it seemed like that wouldn’t be a problem for the foreseeable future.

---

Subject: Re: Neural Implant Research

To: Ptilopsis

From: Doctor

CC: Silence, Saria

Thanks for reaching out Doctor Moore,

I’ve already forwarded the information you’ve sent me to the Medical and Engineering departments. Even if it is incomplete, every little bit of information helps for treating patients with similar afflictions. I understand that you wish to keep some information regarding Rhine Labs’ “Device #9” secret, so I won’t push for more than what you’re willing to disclose.

I might as well rip off the bandage. Due to my own memory problems, I can’t really make heads or tails of the neurological side of things. Sorry to dash your hopes. I’ve been reading up, but I’m not the brilliant scientist the senior staff seem to regard me as. Nonetheless, if any of my past knowledge resurfaces, you’ll be the first to know.

Sincerely,

The Doctor

The person in question sighed as he reread the email that he had been drafting over and over again. He predicted Rosmontis and Ptilopsis would find common ground, but not to this extent. The Liberi performed her duties admirably, but became cagey whenever pressed for specifics regarding her implant. To willingly give away even a sliver of information, she must care deeply for the girl’s condition.

“You feel guilty. That you cannot fulfill her wishes.” The stoic voice of Kal’tsit stirred the Doctor from his brooding. “But, you also fear what you might remember in the process of reclaiming such information.”

“Only because becoming the person you hate again is going to be a pain to deal with. We’re getting along so well right now, I’d hate to go back to the way things used to be.” The Doctor joked as he finally sent the email through. Kal’tsit showed no reaction to the man’s jest.

“The way things used to be. Ah, yes. For you, that would’ve been just a few months ago. Regardless, you have been slowly, inevitably, regaining your past, just like Rosemary has. You could stand to be like her, bravely facing it, piece by piece. If it’s any consolation, you are not who you were. What you’re becoming now is a synthesis of your past and present. Remember that, and do not despair.”

“Right. Right. Seems like I’ve got even more reading to do now. On top of all my other duties.” The Doctor stretched his arms over his head as he tried to think of which journals to search through. And which ones Rhodes Island had a subscription to. Or could find a free copy of.

“Take care not to overwhelm yourself. The brain is quite a fragile thing. The researchers of today are rather foolhardy, tinkering with an organ they barely understand. And what results do they show to justify themselves? A scant few discoveries that would not hold firm against peer review, let alone mass dissemination to a far more cautious populace.” The lynx spat out. The Doctor understood her contempt. He probably felt stronger than she did. The brief moment of solidarity was interrupted as an alarm rang from the Doctor’s phone.

“What? Another kitchen incident?” The man grumbled as he checked. “Who’s stirring up trouble now?”

“Should we send Vulcan to handle it?” Kal’tsit suggested. The Doctor shook his head.

“No, it’s Saga this time. And, wait, what? Floating food?” The two of them stared at each other as they both came to the same conclusion. “You should go. She’ll probably listen to you.”

Kal’tsit sighed, but the Doctor could also hear an almost silent laugh. “So she’s grown to the point of challenging authority, then? Or perhaps simply seeing what she can get away with. I need to clarify some boundaries, then.”

Chapter Text

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Kjera waited outside an ornate eastern style door. It stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the utilitarian grey metal leading to the other dorm rooms, not to mention it was at the end of a hallway. Logically, should the woman step through, she’d probably fall out the other side. Such powers were beyond her, but she understood the principle well enough. Though her powers were limited outside of her own country, she was a Feranmut still. After a few minutes of silence, the caster pulled on the handle and let herself in. She had a feeling there wouldn’t be anyone to greet her if what she knew about Dusk was true.

“Normally, I’d advise caution when dealing with Dusk. But this is you we’re talking about, you’ll probably be fine. If something really bad happens, I’ll just ask Ling for help.” She laughed quietly as she recalled the Doctor’s words. Yes, it would be good to meet more of her ilk. Her long life had made her well-versed when dealing with humans, but she was quite curious about other Feranmuts.

“Gkh…” Something gurgled as Kjera passed the threshold and found herself in a misty forest. A blue-black creature as tall as her waist trotted up to her, tilting its head in curiosity.

“Oh, what are you, little one?” The goddess asked as she knelt down and held her hand out. The creature sniffed it, then moved to sniff at the picnic basket she had brought with her. It tried to use its snout to pull off the cloth covering the top, only for Kjera to gently push it away, her fingertips cooling down as she did so. The critter let out another gurgle as it lowered its frosted snout to its chest.

“Now, now. This is for your master. Should you lead me to her, perhaps you can have some as well. How does that sound?” The beast jumped up and down excitedly before running off, Kjera following behind it at a slower pace. A few meters away, the beast turned around, impatiently waiting for its guest to catch up. Kjera was quite content to take in the sights as she ambled through Dusk’s domain.

The scenery reminded her somewhat of the valleys in her own lands. Dew-covered evergreen trees dotted the land as rivers meandered downhill to some unknown sea. There didn’t seem to be any wildlife, however, or any chilling wind, which gave the place an uncanny feeling. In terms of visual aesthetics, it was close to perfect. The familiarity stopped there, however. There was no sound of rustling leaves or howling winds. No smell of pine needles or wet wood. Was this born out of ignorance? Or just personal preference? Kjera figured she’d know once she met the person in question. The ink spirit trotted up to her again and began lightly biting the edges of her dress. Kjera giggled as she picked up the pace.

After a brisk walk through the woods, Kjera and her new companion found themselves in front of a riverside cabin, the door identical to the one Kjera entered just a little bit ago. Before the goddess could knock, the ink spirit accompanying her had already nudged the door open and sprinted inside. Nonetheless, she knocked on the open door anyways.

“I wondered why the Biteys were so excited.” A soft voice grunted from a nearby room. As Kjera rounded the corner, she saw a women laying down on her stomach, her shadow dancing due to the flames of a nearby fire. The woman looked at the Bitey with bored annoyance as it bounced between her and Kjera. “Would you mind throwing some more logs on the fire?”

“Not at all.” Kjera smiled as Dusk used her tail to point to the room across the hall. The goddess of Karlan smiled to herself as she scooped a few pieces of firewood into her free arm. She had been nervous about meeting another Feranmut. Were they going to be dignified? Territorial? But the way Dusk acted reminded her a great deal of Enya, if only in how lethargic both of them could be.

“There we go, warm enough for you?” Kjera asked as Dusk looked at her with half-closed eyes. She held up her picnic basket. “I even brought gifts, hope you’re hungry. Oh, but perhaps you should wash your hands first.”

“No need.” Dusk replied dismissively as she sat up, or rather bolted up. As the dragon’s eager hand was about to touch the spotless white cloth, Kjera suddenly snatched her wrist.

“Now, now, that won’t do. We don’t want you eating paint now, do we?” The maid replied as she scrubbed the artist’s hand with a wet wipe. Dusk pouted, puffing her cheeks as Kjera blissfully ignored her. The Bitey in the room echoed the artist’s sentiment, trying once again to lift the cloth, only for Kjera to push it away with her other hand. It’s snout once again chilling from Kjera’s touch.

“Eager now, aren’t we?” The maid gave a maternal smile as she pulls out a tupperware container. Based on the rumors she had heard, how long had Dusk stayed in her room without good food? It must have been a long time if a small housewarming gift generated this much excitement. Kjera pried off the plastic lid, revealing small bite-sized snacks.

“This is…” Dusk asked as she pinched a golden-brown ball between her fingers, turning it around skeptically. Her pet had no such hesitation, gobbling up every treat Kjera tossed into its waiting gullet.

“Malakoff. Deep fried cheese fritters. It’s quite the popular snack in Kjerag.” The goddess of the snow realm answered happily. She stared at Dusk like an eager mother, waiting for the dragon to take a bite. Dusk sighed as she humored Kjera. The painter took a small bite, crunching through the breading to reach the melted cheese within. Without saying a word, she kept eating, easily finishing one after another. “Someone is quite hungry, are they not? If I had known, I would’ve cooked up something more substantial.”

“No need.” Dusk wiped her mouth clean of crumbs as she pointed to a cupboard sitting in the corner of her room. Kjera obliged and opened it, revealing bowls and plates filled with Yanese style dishes lying in the open. The maid furrowed her brow at such risky storage.

“It is rather reckless to store finished dishes like this, is it not? What of mice? Or mold? Let alone the smell when it rots.”

“If I painted them, they don’t rot. Try eating a little.” Dusk replied as she fell back onto the ground and kicked her feet up idly. Taking a small dumpling, Kjera popped it into her mouth and tasted…nothing.

“I can create things that appease the eyes, but not much else. Out of sight, things cease to be. And there are no rats in my paintings. Or rot. Such things are a hassle to even think about.” Dusk replied flippantly as she used her feet to shoo the Bitey out of the room. And away from the remaining Malakoff. The beast, too full to bother and as lazy as its master, simply curled up near the crackling fire. “If you want food, you’ll have to ask one of my siblings instead. Just not Nian. That woman’s taste buds are shot from her own cooking.”

“I see. I see.” Kjera nodded in realization. Dusk’s stomach was properly sated, but probably not her tastebuds. The maid’s gift was most likely the only real food she had eaten for a while. “Speaking of, I understand you are a painter, yes?”

The dragon nodded as she rolled closer to the fire and stretched. “I was in the middle of painting something just now. At least until someone interrupted me.”

Kjera raised an eyebrow, looking at the near-blank canvas resting on a table near Dusk. There were a few lines, but nothing resembling a distinct shape. Despite this, inks of every color and a cup full of brushes was nearby. It was a scene the long-lived maid had intimate knowledge of. How many people had prayed to Kjeragandr in her existence, hoping to be struck by divine inspiration that would let them create unabated?

“So, how long have you been painting this?” Kjera asked teasingly. Dusk stared at the ceiling, counting the hours in her head.

“About five hours.” The dragon replied nonchalantly. “I started this one because I couldn’t stand looking at the others I was working on.”

Kjera unrolled a folded up canvas. A barrenland with a large chasm filled with originium crystals, like the maw of a titanic beast. Half of it was colored in, the other half was simply sketched out. It reminded her a place Rhodes Island had passed just a month ago. Folding the canvas back up, the maid placed it back into the pile it had come from.

“I look at some of those and think to myself, what a pain it’ll be to finish them off. Hmmph. Ideas are great when they’re bubbling around in your head. Putting them to paper is another story.”

“I imagine. Enya always tries knit in what little free time she has, but she seldom finishes anything she makes. That one always hands me half-finished scarves and asks me to make something of them.”

“Enya? Oh, must be that priestess that you always follow around. Rather bizarre, don’t you think?”

“What is?” Kjera asked obliviously.

“Come on. You know what I am. I know what you are. I’m not ‘just a painter’ anymore than you’re ‘just a maid.’ In fact, I’m fairly certain I’m your senior; maybe not in age, but at least in terms of worldly knowledge.” Despite saying this, Dusk remained prone on the floor, sucking away whatever gravitas she might’ve had. Kjera couldn’t help but giggle as she herself sat cross-legged on the floor, getting closer to Dusk out of deference for her supposed elder.

“I imagine our situations are quite different, if what Nian told me is any indication.”

“That woman’s a social butterfly, isn’t she?” Dusk let out an exasperated sigh.

“Yes, she’s certainly quite outgoing. But, I’ve always believed that the children of Kjerag are strong enough to forge their own paths. No need for me to do more than watch from a distance. And give the occasional nudge. I have certainly never participated in the day to day politicking of my realm.”

“Must be nice to not be hounded. I swear, if Yan sends any Regulators here, I’m trapping them in ‘A Cavern Unending.’ Hmm? Don’t look so concerned. There’s plenty to eat in there, assuming they can make a light source.”

“Would you like to switch places for a while then?” Kjera joked. Dusk snorted.

“No thanks. I hate being monitored. But constantly being prayed to sounds even worse. Patron goddess of artists, absolutely not. I can barely put up with my own creative woes. And I’d have no time to paint for myself.”

Kjera simply smiled as Dusk got annoyed at the imaginary workload. At no point did the idea of just ignoring any hypothetical supplicants cross the dragon’s mind. That gave the maid all she needed to know. Nian was right, for as prickly as the painter was, she had quite a soft heart. Dusk nibbled on the remaining fritters. The painter’s mouth open and a small yawn escaped. This caused her to furiously shake her head and slap her cheeks red.

“What’s wrong?” Kjera asked in concern.

“Nothing.” Dusk spat out. The dancing orange flames hid it well, but Dusk’s eyes were bloodshot. Now that Kjera looked around closer, there weren’t any windows in this room. No way to tell the passage of time aside from the flame slowly burning itself out. “Just had too many ideas recently. I wanted to get them all down before I forgot.”

“Then why not simply write them down?”

“I’m not a writer. That’s Ling’s hobby.”

“It doesn’t have to be a poem. Even a simple reminder would be enough to jog your memory would it not?”

“A painting can’t be described in just a few words.” Dusk spat out. The venom in her voice caused Kjera to flinch, something that Dusk noticed as well given her sigh. “You should know how creatives are. Once we get a good idea, we have the tendency to pull all-nighters.”

“Judging by your painting, I don’t think that’s what’s happening.” Kjera thought to herself. She had clearly struck a nerve, and part of her wanted to pry deeper. But, Dusk was no saintess. There was little rapport between them, despite their shared nature. Good thing the maid knew plenty of other ways.

“Given your progress, perhaps you’re stuck in a rut. I’ve got the best idea to fix that.” Kjera began as she clapped her hands together. “Why don’t we take a walk, that should clear your head a little. Even give you a little more energy.”

“Do we have to? If you’re tired of this cabin, I can move us somewhere else, like a meadow.”

“Now, now. We’re due for a larger change in scenery. I’m supposed to show off my room, so why don’t we make our way there?”

Dusk stared blankly at the maid, refusing to budge from the wooden floor.

“Sooner or later, you’ll run out of snacks. I have a small kitchenette in my room. If we go there, I can cook up something far larger. The operators here think I make the best fondue they’ve ever had. Alas, the dish is best eaten fresh. But, if you wish to stay here and eat your own food, I understand.”

Dusk squinted her eyes, but nonetheless slowly got up. The world spun and wobbled as her body got used to being upright again. She dusted off her clothes as Kjera picked up her empty picnic basket, smiling all the while. “I know what you’re trying to do, but whatever. It’s been too long since I’ve eaten something aside from Nian’s hotpot.”

---

The brief walk over did not energize Dusk in the slightest, as the dragon was currently resting her head on a table in the center of Kjera’s room. She alternated between traces the geometric patterns on the tablecloth with her eyes and staring at Kjera bustling away in the kitchenette.

“Come now, you’ll ruin your back sitting like that.” The maid gently chided, not even turning around as the chair Dusk was sitting in started to creak. “Would you like to wash your face?”

“I’m feeling wide awake, no need for that.” Despite Dusk’s flippant reply, Kjera couldn’t help but frown. In the brighter lighting of Rhodes Island, the bags under the painter’s eyes were far more pronounced. The dragon maintained a stoic composure as she sped through the halls, probably to get away from prying eyes. The moment Kjera closed the door to her room, however, was the moment all vigor left Dusk’s body. And so she was back to her lethargic self.

“You’ve got quite a few offerings, don’t you?” Dusk jokingly asked as she stared at a shelf filled with all manner of odds and ends. DVD cases filled with Columbian movies. A few records from Lungmen. Even some Minoan literature.

“Offerings? No, no. Those are simply things I’ve borrowed.” Kjera answered, speaking over a sizzling pot. “I’m quite curious about the world outside, so I often approach people looking for recommendations. Heh. The way their faces light up always makes it worth it.”

“So have they managed to figure out what you are yet?”

Kjera chuckled as she continued stirring. “Not at first, but eventually a few people did. And then they told their friends. And soon everyone here at least knows bits and pieces. Every once in a while, people will ask me to cool their drinks. Although I’d argue I’m more famous as a cook than a goddess. What about you? I imagine there are quite a few that wish to request a painting.”

Dusk let out a sigh. “There’s still the occasional bold one, but most people know to leave me to my own devices these days. The last person that begged me for something tried to sell one of my works. They got a week’s vacation in one of my paintings. And then a scolding from Kal’tsit herself, which I assume was much worse. Oh, but don’t listen to what those loudmouth sisters of mine says, I’ve plenty of friends that stop by and bring me books and films.”

“How wonderful! So, what do you discuss with these friends of yours?”

“Discuss?” The recluse asked innocently. “Ah. I give them my thoughts when I give them their things back.”

“I see.” Kjera answered. That sounded about right for an introvert like her. “The people here are rather curious, are they not? Loads of people like coming up to me and asking me questions about Kjerag. Specifically about things they can’t find in a travel guide or what shops to go to should they ever visit. Speaking of my homeland, your early dinner’s just about ready.”

The maid carried over a pot filled with melted cheese alongside some square pieces of bread and diced vegetables. Dusk picked up a long, thin fork from the central pot, watching the cheese pour off like a particularly thick coat of paint.

“Don’t be shy, now. This dish is usually meant for a group, but it’s just the two of us, so there’s plenty to go around.” Kjera speared a piece of bread, swirled it into the fondue, and then eagerly ate it. Dusk tried to emulate her, opting for a head of broccoli instead. As the painter put the delicacy into her mouth, the rich flavor of the spiced cheese melted onto her tongue. She jabbed another piece, faster this time. Kjera casually ate as she watched Dusk work through the meal piece by piece, ignoring any attempt at smalltalk in favor of shoving more food into her mouth.

Once Dusk had sated herself to a degree, she slowed down and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Say, there aren’t any weird customs you’re trying to sucker me into, are there?”

“Weird customs? What could you possibly mean?” The smug smile on Kjera’s face made the younger Sui sister suspicious.

“Nian likes adding too much spice to her hotpots, until only she can eat it. You seemed proud to offer me this, so I was assuming there is some cultural significance to this dish.”

“Well, there are quite a few, I will admit.” Kjera hummed happily as she watched Dusk slowly spear a piece of bread. Taking a bit too much cheese this time, not helped by the fact that the cheese was cooling down, one prong became visible before the dragon quickly shoved the bread into her mouth. “Good save, there. Had you dropped it, well, that would’ve warranted a punishment.”

“I knew it. There was something.” Dusk squinted at Kjera.

“Please it wouldn’t have been too severe. It’s all for fun, anyways. If you dropped it, I probably would’ve just cooled my hands and rubbed the back of your neck.”

Dusk shivered as if Kjera had done so, eating far more cautiously from then on.

“You should’ve seen what happened when the Doctor failed. Hehe. I have never heard someone screech like he did when I touched him.”

“Is that so?” On Dusk’s face, there was a faint hint of a mischievous smile. “Next time you invite the Doctor to eat, tell me. That sounds like something I have to see.”

“Absolutely. It’ll be a great time. Just bear in mind, you’re not immune to any punishments yourself.” Kjera playfully winked as she brought her fingers together. Dusk shivered again, putting her fork down. “Hope you have room for a little more.”

“Do you always feed your guests this much?” Dusk patted her stomach as a small belch gurgled out of her. It had certainly been a long time since she ate a full meal. On her lonesome, she’d usually just take a bite out of a meal here and there over the course of a few hours between painting.

“Only for those that neglect their health.” Kjera replied as she plopped a small soup bowl in front of Dusk. “Here, it’s called Kwati. Bean soup. Perfect for when you need some energy.”

The painter brought a spoonful to her mouth. There was a faint aftertaste of ginger that caused her to cough softly. Kjera softly patted her on the back until she got over her shock.

“It’s quite popular after a cold day.” The maid began. “Great for clearing your airways.”

“I can see that. I bet my annoying sister would love this if you made it a bit stronger. Oi, what are you grinning about?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. You must adore your siblings, considering how much you talk about them.”

“Adore is too strong a word. It’s…well. Brother or sister are the most approximate ways to describe what we are to each other. Do you understand?”

The Kjerag Feranmut tilted her head back and forth, trying to grasp the true meaning of the Sui’s words. The connection was different than, say, Enya, Ensia, and Enciodes. At the end of the day, the Silverash siblings were separate people. From the moment they existed, their memories, their sense of identity, were distinct. But Dusk and Nian and Ling were different. “A little bit, if my brief conversation with Nian was any help. I unfortunately don’t have any experience like that myself.”

“Really? No shards of yourself? Are you truly whole?”

“Whole? Hmm. Perhaps. Perhaps not. I have never another embodiment of myself before, but there have been plenty of times I’ve pondered the nature of my own existence. I have in turn discussed such things with saints throughout the ages. Am I Kjeragandr, or merely an aspect of Her? Will I disappear one day just as the countless blizzards I have witnessed and created? In my heart of hearts, I do not know. Although, after Rhodes Island’s visit to Kjerag, I find myself not particularly caring much about such things anymore.”

The snow goddess’s carefree smile caught Dusk by surprise. The one pivotal question she and her siblings spent a long slumber mulling over until their fragmentation, and the one fear that forever haunted her, and now here was this young godling so casually discarding both things.

“Perhaps it’s simply foolhardiness born from immaturity, but I have nonetheless watched generations come and go. I’m sure you have as well. I do not remember the time of my creation, but neither does any other living being. I do not know what I am, I simply make comparisons based on what I have seen in others. Long-lived we may be compared to them, we are similar to them in that regard.”

“But similar beginnings often means similar ends.” Dusk glumly noted, the hand holding her spoon was frozen in place, her appetite completely gone as the conversation got bleaker and bleaker.

“That is a possibility. Some day in the future, there may come a day when we too fade away. I have seen saints depart time and time again. Some were bitter, regretting the life they never had because of their calling. Some were content, believing that they had served Kjeragandr faithfully. As for your supposed demise…You are Sui and Dusk. Part of you wishes for reunification. But part also does not. I am Kjeragandr, Kjarr, and Kjera. Part of Her wishes She could stay by her people’s side forever. To take on a form that can shelter them from what lies beyond the snowy mountains of their homeland. But part of Her also knows that She alone cannot shield them from everything. That one day, perhaps they will no longer need Her. And She will simply fade into obscure myth remembered only by the elderly. But until then, I am here, I am Kjera. And I can act as I see fit.”

A yawn from Dusk shattered the solemnity of Kjera’s speech. “Goodness, I do apologize. It seems I launched into something of a sermon unprompted.”

“Well, it wasn’t the most boring sermon I’ve had to listen to.”

“You offer too much praise. If you’ve spent as long as I have listening to the elders of the Vine Bear Court drone on and on, you’d pick up a few things too.”

“I’ll pass. Listening to Yanese scholars talk about my work was enough.” Dusk yawned again, although she was unsure if it was her fatigue finally catching up to her, the fullness of her stomach, or just the tedium of recalling one too many debates about the meaning of her work.

“You look like you haven’t slept in ages. Come, why don’t you take a little nap?” Kjera gently guided Dusk over to her bed, a motion the maid had performed countless times to so many people.

“A-alright.” Dusk murmured as her head hit the pillow. “Just wake me up after an hour or two. I’ve got a lot of work to…”

The dragon murmured incoherently as her eyelids finally closed, her soft snoring filling the room as Kjera sat down next to her. In her slumber, Dusk began grunting and turning until Kjera stroked the dragon’s hair.

“I thought I had caught the scent of a feast, but alas, I arrive too late – Oh? What is this?” A soft voice came from Kjera’s doorway as a blue-haired dragon entered the room. Confidently at first, before giving way to a soundless tread.

“You are Ling, correct?” Kjera asked softly, only for Ling to hush her and wink.

“That be I, or so I am told.” The woman called Ling answered as she joined Kjera in watching over her younger sister, stroking her forehead affectionately. “It does my heart good to know that this little one has slumbered yet again. Yea, the last time she has dreamed this deeply was when we first arrived here.”

“When I first saw her, it looked like she hadn’t slept in years. Is this a recurring problem?”

“Aye. When we slumber, we, on occasion, dream of It. Of Us. Fiery Nian rejects It. Unfettered I care not for It. But Dusk, o adorable, sentimental Dusk. She who loves this world more deeply than words can describe, dreads It even now. That when she wakes, she will be not and It will be. Why, Nian told me that she had not closed her eyes for over a century when we last met. How you manage to coax our insomniac painter into rest, I will not pry. But you have my gratitude. Had I any spirits left, I would share them with you, but that priestess, the weaponsmith, and I already had quite the merry time together.”

“From your breath, I can tell.” Kjera joked as she stood watch over Dusk with Ling. “If anyone saw us now, do you think they’d see us as Feranmuts?”

“Assuredly not. Many call us gods, but would it be different were we Liberi, or Feline, or anything else? How many miracles we have no knowledge of performing are ascribed to us? What solemn, eternal dignity do our believers imagine we possess? Mortals have rather lofty expectations of us, as if we are removed from the mundanity of life. But little Dusk here is the consummate refutation of that image. And that is endearing in and of itself. What of you, divine servant of divine messengers? What duty does your divinity deliver unto you?”

“Me? I rather like where I am now. I am Enya’s maid and liaison. And an operator at this Rhodes Island. That alone is enough for the foreseeable future.”

“I see now why little Dusk has latched onto you so.” Ling chuckled as she raised an empty cup of wine into the air out of habit. “If I could impose upon you to take one more charge – it will not require you to raise her, she is a responsible one when it matters most – mayhaps just make sure she leaves her paintings fortnightly and eats food that is not born from paint. I understand you must return to your own hearth and home intermittently, but it would be a boon to her to have someone she can confide to should I or Nian be not around.”

“Don’t worry. She’s quite like Enya sometimes. I’ll make sure she’s taking care of herself.”

---

A large Yanese-style ink painting was exhibited at the railroad station of Turicum. Brushstrokes coalesced together to make a range of mountains jutting out of the mist while stairs and bridges coil around the rocky crags. It didn’t matter if passengers were leaving their train or waiting for their train to arrive. The painting mystified them all.

“Those mountains look quite bizarre don’t you think?”

“I’ve seen some like those in Higashi before. You should go there.”

“Nah. If I want to see snowy mountains, I’ll stay here in Kjerag. I’d go somewhere warm and sunny instead.”

“How about Siesta, then? I’m planning on delivering some stuff from Karlan Trade there. No problem having a few tagalongs.”

“Do they really put pagodas up on the peaks?”

“Why is that so weird? The Saintess lives at the top of Mount Karlan.”

“I suppose. Wonder what the priests and gods are like outside.”

“You’ve been staring at that painting for a while. Is it that interesting?”

“There’s a similar one in my house. I think my great-grandparents brought it back when they were traveling.”

“Really? Must be an antique then. Never seen anything in this style before.”

“Looks like that painting was a success.” Pramanix looked out the window of her private train car at the locals and visitors scrutinizing Dusk’s work. “It’s not a diplomatic gift in any official capacity, but cultural exchange is worthwhile nonetheless.”

“Indeed. I am shocked Weiss managed to deliver it so quickly, though. And that Karlan Trade managed to unveil it immediately. How much bureaucracy did they have to cut through to get that thing approved, I wonder.” Kjera smiled as she recalled the moment Dusk handed the large canvas to her. The dragon tried to act all nonchalant, alleging that it was an act of fanciful caprice. But the telltale bags under her eyes, along with the way she stared at Kjera as the maid inspected the painting for the first time revealed her true feelings. The forlorn expression the dragon gave as the Saintess and Kjera left Rhodes Island stayed in her mind.

“Hmph. Leave it to my brother to expedite any opportunity.” Pramanix scowled bitterly before taking a deep breath. “It is rather breathtaking, even from afar. What do you think the creator wanted to convey?”

“I could certainly ask her, although I imagine she’d be rather cross if I did. Artists are rather fickle ones, after all.”

“Fickle, you say. That sounds like quite the life. Hah. Can’t believe I’m already wishing for another vacation.” A catlike grin crept onto the Saintess’s face. “Perhaps we can postpone my return. Say that I’ve received a revelation that requires more meditation. The messenger is still here, we could still go back with no one the wiser.”

“Speaking of fickle.” Kjera thought to herself. Whether god or man, whimsy was never in short supply.

---

Subject: Regarding a Certain Dragon

To: Kroos

From: Lava

Yo,

Is it just me, or has our special ‘guest’ been more active lately. Like, I’m used to Nian barging in and causing trouble, or Ling attending every drinking party on the ship and whatnot. But Dusk usually holes herself up in those paintings of hers. Nowadays I see her waiting around the cafeteria more and more. Hell, one time I saw her carrying two massive bags of carryout back with her. Not to mention more of her paintings have been showing up lately. And she never gives away her paintings for no reason. It’s probably nothing, but if you find out anything let me know.

P.S. You think we could sic Hibiscus on her? That’d get that annoying brat off our backs so we can actually buy snacks in peace for once.

Subject: Re: Regarding a Certain Dragon

To: Lava

From: Kroos

Think she’s just been in a good mood after hanging out with that Karlan Feranmut. Probably nice to have a conversation with someone that isn’t Ling or Nian. Also, no to that Hibiscus thing. Cuz I know that the moment she gets trapped inside a painting, you’re gonna drag me into rescuing her. Alternatively, we could just get Mr. Nothing to do it for us. That’d work too.

---

Chapter Text

“Of all the things to look at, your first reaction is to immediately dive into all those?” The Doctor asked as Doctor Silence leafed through a science journal. “Meteorology of Catastrophes” was emblazoned in bold red text atop an aerial view of a black storm crackling with orange lightning.

“Would you fault me for being interested?” The Liberi offhandedly replied as she continued skimming through the articles. The journal itself was more akin to a small textbook in size, featuring recent scientific findings, editorials, and the occasional interview from leading scientists. “I’m surprised you have time to read all this. I can barely stay up to date in my own field.”

“The trick is that I only read the abstracts.” The Doctor winked conspiratorially. “And if there’s something really important, I’ll read through the conclusion and discussion. Don’t tell the rookies this, though. Gotta make sure they know how to do it properly before they start bending the rules.”

Silence giggled as she nodded. It was nice to see that even a brilliant mind like the Doctor was prone to using old undergrad tricks. That must explain how he could work through the dense stack of scientific literature on his desk while still having time to handle everything else he did. Silence herself could understand bits and pieces of her current reading from her own experiences researching oripathy, but some of the other journals on the Doctor’s desk eluded her. Studies on structural engineering, practical applications of trained animals in a military environment, human resource management, and so many more. “You’re quite the interdisciplinarian, aren’t you?”

“Strictly out of necessity.” The Doctor scratched the back of his head bashfully. “When you get to the level of directing entire teams, you quickly realize that you have to learn new things on the fly. No matter what your initial field of expertise was. Although, given the nature of our field operations, I assume you’ve had some cross-disciplinary experience too.”

“That’s an understatement.” Silence sighed as she closed the journal she was perusing. In the past month alone, she probably spent more time in the field than in her lab. And most of the time wasn’t spent researching anything, it was spent performing first aid or doing odd jobs like hauling cartons of drinking water or setting up tarps. Other times, she moonlit as a field doctor in slums or villages. “Ah, I apologize if I sound irritated. I just never envisioned myself taking such a hands-on approach to treating oripathy back when I was a student.”

“That’s just the nature of treating the infected.” The Doctor rolled his neck around as phantom cramps flared up. The memories of parsing through dozens of pages of legalese, all in tiny font with no spacing, came crawling back. “To be honest, I think I’d prefer doing grunt work over the endless meetings I have to attend. At least Amiya’s gotten more assertive these days. It’s quite funny watching her square up against executives and politicians twice or even thrice her age and seeing them back down.”

“Is that so? You should take pictures next time, I’m sure plenty of people here would find them cathartic.” Silence said with a devious grin. After what she went through in Rhine Lab, just imagining the higher ups squirming due to small Cautus girl gave her quite a vindictive joy. Although, if Ifrit tried something similar, Silence would be concerned more than anything else. “She’s been growing up so much recently. Maybe in a year or two, she’ll be taller than me even without her ears.”

It’s not that hard. The Doctor thought to himself as he looked down at the short Liberi woman adjusting her glasses. Small as she was, Silence was probably in better shape than him at least. If only by a little.

“Speaking of Amiya,” Silence craned her head left and right, scanning the Doctor’s room. “I haven’t seen any photographs of her. Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but you and her share a relationship not unlike the one between me and Ifrit, yes?”

“Hoping to find some childhood pictures of her?” The man snickered. “I see her close to daily, no reason to remind myself what she looks like. My amnesia’s not that bad. As for her past, she knows more than I do. And I guess my room was cleared out sometime after I went into a coma. Doctor Kal’tsit recommends that she tells me stuff on a need to know basis, out of concern that my psyche might destabilize if I start recalling too much at once.”

“I see.” The Doctor. Kal’tsit. Amiya. The Columbian researcher saw a few parallels between herself, Ifrit, and Saria. Ifrit and Amiya were clear parallels. But who was more like her? The Doctor perhaps? If so, then did that make Kal’tsit more like…

Myriad emotions boiled in her gut as she recalled the old days, before that incident. As dysfunctional as the three leaders of Rhodes were, they at least got along professionally. Well, it was mostly the Doctor and Kal’tsit at each other’s throats, with Amiya playing the role of peacekeeper. And even then, the two bickering adults could still stand to be in the same room as each other. “Forgive me if I’m asking something personal, but what exactly is your relationship with Kal’tsit? It always seems like you two are closer than mere colleagues. But also somewhat adversarial?”

“Is that the impression we give people?” The Doctor tilted his head in confusion.

“There are certain rumors flying around…”

“Don’t pay any attention to them.” The Doctor replied bluntly. “From what I can piece together, we used to work together in the past. Something happened, and now she has a grudge against me. The old me, I mean. She’s at least open to the new me. Sorta. It’s complicated.”

“Okay.” Silence blinked as she tried to parse what the man just said. The old him. If Saria had no recollection of what had happened, would Silence be able to forgive her? The Liberi shook her head. Wishing for someone to lose their memories, what made them who they were, was twisted. No one, not even Director Parvis, deserved something like that. “Then, what do you think of her?”

“Hmm. A good doctor. And well-intentioned. Perhaps a bit powerful for a medic, but quite useful in the field. I just wish she trusted us more with whatever she’s thinking about. No matter how much you manage to get out of her, she always seems like she withholding something.”

“Really now?” That definitely sounded familiar. If the he had been talking about Saria instead of Kal’tsit, Silence would have been talking to her doppelganger. Perhaps her comparison was apt after all. “I distinctly remember one instance she came into Medical absolutely fuming because of something that happened to you in Columbia.”

The Doctor’s face lit up for a moment before he broke down laughing. “Oh yeah, that one time I got myself arrested. She gave me an earful for that, but she isn’t one to criticize. What with turning herself in to the Inquisition.”

“Arrested?” The owl raised her eyebrows, staring at the man warily. “I figured if something like that happened, rumors would be flying all over the place.”

“It’s one of the few things Amiya and Kal’tsit agreed to cover up. To put a long story short, it involved a lot of corporate espionage. And turning myself in was the best way to direct the situation to an acceptable outcome.”

“An acceptable outcome? Corporate espionage?” Silence stopped herself. Having to deal with the labyrinth that was Rhine Lab politics was enough already. “Hah. Sorry, I shouldn’t let my curiosity get the better of me. Working here has given me a new perspective on things. Before, I thought that once my findings were published, the hardest parts were over. Now though, the research seems like the easy part.”

“That’s what a lot of new hires say. The fact is that once you move from the realm of theory to application, the required skills become more people-oriented. It becomes less about equipment and math and more about figuring out who to work with. For example, check this out.” The Doctor picked up a small badge from his desk and flicked it into the air like a coin. Letting it fall into his hand, he held it out to Silence. The Columbian could vaguely recognize the blue hound laden with bags emblazoned on the small metal trinket.

“I think I saw this on a news report once. Some sort of smuggling group?”

“Now, now. Don’t insult our associates like that.” The Doctor sarcastically chided as he pulled up his laptop. “They’re a grey market courier service. Famous primarily because they once got caught stealing a bunch of Raythean tech that legally didn’t exist. But most of the time these guys just deliver mundane stuff that the average person would have to jump through hoops to acquire legitimately.”

That was still shady to Doctor Silence, but she kept quiet. Some of the backup plans to break Anthony out would’ve required contacting far worse people. Even Kafka wasn’t exactly clean herself.

“Look. A recent expansion project of ours in Columbia.” The Doctor pointed to an operational plan he pulled up. An aerial view of a Columbian style industrial zone choked with black smog visible on the cover. From what Silence recalled from the griping of her colleagues, Rhodes Island had minimal presence in Columbia, mainly due to the fierce competition in the region from companies that provided similar services. As such, most ventures in the nation focused more on providing affordable care to people the market had left behind.

“The city already has a contract with Parasol Pharmaceuticals, but they charge an absurd markup. Way too much for most workers to pay without going into debt. So we’ve been trying to set up a smuggling route with some of our own stock, hence why I have one of our friend’s pins.”

“Excuse me, if I could look at this a little bit further.” The Doctor rolled out of the way as Silence scrolled through the document to find more spreadsheets. Until she reached the predicted costs of the plan. Factoring in production costs, Rhodes Island’s equipment and personnel salaries, the cost of maintaining a private landship, the transportation fee for the smuggling group, and then contact with local dealers, even a simple suppressant had quite the hefty price tag. It was within the price range of the average factory worker, assuming they skipped out on any leisurely spending a few days of the week and stuck to bare essentials.

“I understand that pricing it too low would discourage people, but could you explain how you plan on making Rhodes’s treatments accessible. I don’t mean any offense, the price is still far lower than comparable treatments by other companies. But Rhodes’s prices at point of sale still seem high.”

The Doctor let out a low groan as he grit his teeth. “We…usually ask the middlemen to lower their prices, sometimes paying out of pocket so they don’t sell at a loss. If you scroll down again, you can see our planned ‘subsidies.’ We obviously make more than just giving it all away, but we’re still in the negatives for this venture.”

“Now that I think about it, Miss Closure once made an offhand comment about how Rhodes’ quarterly reports always have too many negative signs in them. I thought she was just being frugal, but is there any truth to it?”

“We could probably price gouge like every other pharma company out there, but one, that’s goes against our beliefs, and two, that would mean most of the infected that need our help can’t afford our stuff anyways. Our revenue from providing medical services alone don’t begin to cover our operating costs. So, we have to make our income through other means.”

“Thus your rather large combat department.” Silence adjusted her glasses as she finished the Doctor’s train of thought. Her previous employer had a fairly large contingent of security personnel as well, so her transfer to Rhodes wasn’t that much of an attitude adjustment. Other scientists that joined alongside her always seemed surprised when they realized the extent of Rhodes Island’s combat branch, often avoiding areas with large amounts of armed personnel for the first few months. Whether her lack of reaction to such a thing was good or bad, she still wasn’t sure.

“So, how do we compare to Rhine Lab’s Defense Section?” The Doctor asked innocuously.

Olivia squinted, a sour frown appearing on her face. “Much nicer I’d say. It’s a cultural thing primarily. In Rhine Labs, security exists either to keep people from going where they’re not supposed to or to clean up lab accidents. By any means necessary. Any other time, they might as well be ghosts. Here, the operators are more open with each other. I just wish they’d stop popping into Medical unannounced. Um, sorry. It’s a habit from the old days. Surprise inspections were always nerve-wracking.”

“Hey now, we do those too. We’re just more subtle about it. So what do they bug you about?”

“It depends on who’s barging in. One of the Penguin Logistics girls stopped by wanting to buy one of my medical drones. Kroos snuck in to hide from her teammates after she slacked off. And then you have the occasional trainee that wants to get patched up because they practiced in their own free time. Honestly, my own research keeps getting interrupted these days with all the problems that keep appearing on my doorstep.” While she ranted, the Doctor heard no venom in her voice. Quite the opposite, there was a sense of contentment. Of fulfillment.

“Seems like you’re keeping yourself busy. Keeping track of all that and Ifrit must be a hassle.”

“Ifrit? Shockingly, she’s been well-behaved recently. I haven’t had heard anything negative from her teachers in a while. Minus her lack of academic accomplishment.” A resigned look crept onto her face. The Doctor knew it far too well. Most educational staff had made that face when dealing with chronic troublemakers like the young caster in question.

The Doctor laughed nervously. “I think that’s because she’s gotten a new rivalry that’s taken up most of her free time.”

Silence’s eyes widen in horror. The presence of peers had helped the girl’s mental development significantly, but she still had difficulty restraining her own impulses. It was a miracle that the caster had yet to seriously burn anyone so far. If she was having trouble with another person, why had Silence not heard about it?

The Doctor had an impish grin on his face as he started his story. “So, she was wandering into Engineering one day and came across this new arc furnace we had bought. One of the powerful ones meant for melting large quantities of steel. Apparently, she took offense to the thing and swore that she could conjure something hotter. I think she’s been doing extra training with Instructor Pith recently.”

As the realization dawned on Silence, she sighed. Both from relief and exacerbation. That was certainly better than what she had imagined. But still concerning. Ifrit’s flames were hot enough as is. Improving them to the point of easily melting through metal would render most countermeasures worthless. If she lost control again, not even Muelsyse or Saria could put a stop to her at that point.

“At least she’s applying herself.” Silence remarked proudly. “If it’s not too late, can you request the instructors teach her precision control over her Arts. I’m worried about the collateral damage she’ll cause in the field.”

“Already taken care of. Speaking of, I’m honestly surprised you approved her request to become an operator.”

“Given the circumstances here, it’d be hard to argue against it.” The Liberi recalled the endless begging Ifrit had done in the past. Perhaps due to the sheer number of different justifications the girl had given, a few salient points emerged. There were plenty of operators that were also patients, some of whom were her age. There was only so much a controlled environment could do to help her gain experience with her Arts. She didn’t want to be stuck in hospital room forever. And so on. Given how she had heard similar arguments from the Doctor, she wondered whether the two of them had discussed something behind her back.

“To be a doctor is to walk a delicate balance between doing what’s best for your patient as their caretaker and respecting their autonomy. That’s what Doctor Shining once told me. I’m still concerned about what she’ll witness out there…”

“As am I.” The Doctor smiled sadly as he nodded. “In an ideal world, kids like her, Amiya, Rosmontis, Popukar, they shouldn’t be burdened with things like conflict and politics and moral dilemmas. And all sorts of heavy questions that adults don’t have the answer to. In an ideal world, we could freely share our aid and not have to go through back channels to avoid government and corporate interference. Unfortunately, we have to make do with the world we’re born into. Teaching them how to confront and calmly handle such a world is ultimately the best thing we can do for them.”

The Doctor stood up and stretched, realizing his remark had made the air far too oppressive for his liking. “How about we take a walk over to your room? I can tell you about all the stuff I’ve read recently. Who knows, maybe you’ll find some inspiration.”

---

“Here we are, nothing too important in here.” Silence opened a safe, unveiling stacks upon stacks of candies. “Heh. You look like Ifrit whenever I give her a single piece. I wonder what she would look like if she found out I had this.”

The Doctor shook his head and tried to avert his gaze, but his eyes constantly wandered back to the sugary prize held within. Compared to top secret documents, candy was a decent substitute. It might have even been better. Doctor Silence sighed as she stood up and stepped away from the safe.

“You can take a few pieces.” Before she finished, the Doctor was already squatting down in front of the open safe. The man would take a box, shake out a piece or two, and then put it back in its proper place.

“A keylock and a fingerprint scanner. Why all the tight security?” The Doctor asked as he popped a butterscotch into his mouth.

“Ifrit knows how to get into my room, but I make sure she doesn’t know where I keep her candy. She already knows to check all the drawers and cabinets, but I’ve made sure she never looks in the safe. You know how children can be, they’ll eat sweets until they puke and then they’ll eat some more. Although, they might not be the only ones.” The Doctor ignored her as he crunched down on the half-melted candy, releasing an explosion of flavor into his mouth.

“I’m surprised you can stockpile this much without the other snack fiends finding out.” The Doctor put a sour gummy into his endless gullet.

“I have my sources. Ifrit can be a bit fickle at times.” Silence pinched the bridge of her nose as she watched the Doctor gorge himself. “She likes being rewarded, but there are times when she just decides she hates a certain type of candy at that very moment. Keeping a diverse stock is the only way to placate her.”

“Just make sure you don’t spoil her, alright?” The Doctor, satisfied for the time being, stood up and closed the safe gently. “She doesn’t have a filter, so if word gets out that Miss Silence has a massive treasure trove of candy, kids will be swarming your room sooner or later.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Moving on, I was actually hoping to get your advice on something.” The Liberi began pulling half-finished drones out of a cardboard box. The Doctor recognized the overall design. There were some variation of the medical drones Silence was prototyping. His eyes sharpened as he pocketed the candy he had pilfered. With just a slight adjustment to posture, the man’s entire demeanor shifted to someone the medic was more familiar with. The battlefield commander she had seen countless times before.

“The Medical Department has been thinking about issuing these drones to operators in the field. So far, testers have given a positive reception thanks to their versatility and ease of use. Doctor, you’re the combat expert here. Is there anything I’m missing when it comes to their design?”

The Doctor picked up a drone and fiddled with its parts. Twirling the top rotor. Pulling on the release clamps designed to hold first aid medicine. Tossing it lightly in his hand. Silence couldn’t tell if the Doctor was doing this for some higher purpose or if he was simply playing with it. Ifrit had made similar motions when she was handed one as well, as had other operators unfamiliar with handling drones. Perhaps it was simply instinctive.

“Are these primarily meant to be used by medics?” Silence nodded, eager to understand the Doctor’s line of thought.

“At the moment.” Silence blurted out. Truth be told, she hadn’t really given much thought about it, focusing instead on making sure the drone worked in the first place.

“Seems fairly delicate, I assume you’re prioritizing ease of manufacture and transport over durability.”

“Correct. Is that a problem?” The Doctor shook his head and smiled reassuringly. This was going far better than the former Rhine Lab researcher expected. Despite the Doctor’s eyes, which seemed like they were vivisecting the drone down to its smallest parts, his tone was warm and candid.

“Just making sure. The last thing we need is scope creep. That’s a great way to make a piece of kit no one wants to carry. But if you have a specific vision in mind, that’ll make slotting it into our doctrine far easier.”

“You’ll accept it that simply?” Silence asked skeptically as the Doctor set the drone in his hands back down. The Liberi was used to her projects being scrutinized in depth, then having to change the core aspects due to some disagreement over contractual obligations.

“You will probably have to make some adjustments, but you ought to consider what the people actually using it will say over me. It’s their opinion that’ll matter the most. Our doctrine prioritizes individual diversity anyways, so there’s no point in making these things do something they’re not designed for.”

“I understand that. But, I would like to address any potential issues before we start handing them out. I’d hate for them to malfunction in the field when lives are on the line”

“They look sound so far, but the issue is that we don’t know what problems people are going to have with them until we get some real data.” The Doctor picked up a nearby blueprint sheet. It was the design of a Raythean drone Silence was likely using as inspiration. The woman was not a mechanical engineer, so the sheet was covered in Mayer’s chickenscratch detailing how various parts worked. At least, that’s what the Doctor assumed the writing was all about. In some of the larger margins, there seemed to be small doodles, probably from Ifrit.

“They could be too fragile to use under fire. They could still be too heavy to carry on long term trips. Too difficult to control. The aerosol system could work fine in controlled spaces, but fail in open areas. Remember, the original intent matters less and less as usage is adopted. The primary concern will be how people choose to use it. It’ll be hard filtering what criticisms are worth listening to, so if you ever need any help, just let me know.”

“Thank you Doctor. Your tactical acumen and concern for others remind me a lot of…” The smile on the Liberi’s face quickly morphed into a frown. “Never mind.”

“I remind you of Saria, right? And here I thought I reminded you of yourself.” Silence clicked her tongue in response, but chose to say nothing. “Sorry if I’m digging up old wounds. If you don’t want to talk about it, we can move on.”

The woman opened her mouth for a moment, then shut it again. She stood up and paced around the room as the Doctor patiently waited. With a sigh, the woman slumped back into her chair and adjusted her glasses again.

“I hope you don’t mind if I withhold a few pieces of information. I may have no loyalty to Rhine Lab anymore, but I don’t intend to drag Rhodes Island into another conflict.”

“If that’s what you wish. Bear in mind, we’re quite nosy. So if it concerns what I think it concerns, we’ll be dragged in sooner or later.”

“I have no doubt.” Silence closed her eyes and sighed. Rhodes Island’s ethos was what drew her here to begin with. But that same ethos might threaten her new home. Whatever the case, that was a worry for another time. “What do you think of that woman?”

“As what? An operator? A researcher? A person?”

“Whatever you deem pertinent.” The Doctor frowned. Doctor Silence was a no-nonsense type of person, but she never gave off the impression of being rude. The snippy tone she adopted whenever Saria came up seemed so out of character for her.

“There is nothing about her that I strongly disagree with. She’s a reliable operator who knows how to take charge and protect her teammates. The few times she shows up in Medical or Engineering, she usually delivers insightful comments. And I’ve yet to witness anything repugnant about her character. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“No. I expected as much. Even now, I still can’t reconcile all that I know about her with what happened. There are too many contradictions. How can a person with such an upstanding character approve of such a…” The Liberi’s mouth snapped shut. “Sorry, I told you too much as is.”

The Doctor had figured things out well before today. Even the little crumbs that slipped from Rhodes’s partnership with Rhine Lab were enough to construct a comprehensive picture. Given how defensive Silence was of Ifrit and the nature of the casting unit brought in from Rhine Lab with the girl, no matter how he looked at it, it was blatantly a military project. Just like Rosmontis. The former Director of Defense had to have known something about what they were testing. There was no way a project that connected to the Columbian military would be pushed without her approval.

“You know, we’ve got quite a few reports of Ifrit stirring up trouble the last time Saria was onboard. Going into places she didn’t have access to and all.” The Doctor started. Silence’s eyes widened again. This time with a near desperate panic.

“Doctor, you shouldn’t let Saria near the girl. I’ve told you this multiple times already.”

“I know. But Ifrit doesn’t seem to care. She’d probably turn the whole ship upside-down to search for Saria.” The Doctor shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s because…”

“Because you don’t want to tell Ifrit, right?” The Doctor smirked as Silence fell into his trap. Perhaps he was being a little harsh, but sooner or later, Silence would have to explain her side of the story to her charge. Might as well help her rip off the bandage now. “If you truly believe that what Saria did was beyond the pale, doesn’t Ifrit, her primary victim, have the right to know?”

“I just want to keep her safe. Ifrit would never believe me.” Silence retorted. That was only a partial truth. The whole truth was that the Liberi did not want Ifrit to be exposed to the complex world surrounding the incident. If she could be shielded until she had the mental maturity to process it all, that would be best. But Silence would settle for stabilizing her Arts, so long as that day was never repeated.

Safe. Saria had told the Doctor and Kal’tsit something similar once regarding the whole affair. The reason why the defender kept her former colleague in the dark. He held back a smile at the palpable irony of it all. “Would she? She trusts you two about equally. Are you worried that such a revelation would crush her that you would maintain a masquerade instead? Amiya and Kal’tsit might not tell me anything, but they have never once lied to me. In the lynx’s case, she actually pretty upfront. Besides, think about it for a second. If she really to take Ifrit back to Rhine Lab, would there be anything you or I could do about it?”

Olivia slumped in her chair and sighed. Realistically speaking, if Saria truly wanted to take Ifrit away, there was little Silence could do to stop the Vouivre. A few elite operators might stop her, but that would require Rhodes Island to side with her over Saria. And they clearly had a positive opinion about her. Then again, if Silence shielded Ifrit, Saria might stop out of their shared history together. But, the former director also wasn’t a person to let personal attachment get in the way of principle. Contradictory ideas swirled in her head, making her nauseous. The Doctor grabbed her shoulders and shook her out of her thoughts.

“Seems like you were thinking about something heavy.” The Doctor retracted his hands as Olivia rubbed her forehead. “Do we need to take a break?”

“No.” The diminutive woman took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She thought this would be a good break, a way to socialize. And then she got paired with him of all people. She let out a self-deprecating laugh. If he’s around, might as well ask him for advice. “Doctor, what do you think I should do?”

“I’m not one to dictate how people should live their lives, but I would suggest you keep an open mind. If what she did was truly unforgivable, you have the right to hate her. And we would support you if any evidence did come to light of her alleged crimes. But, if you learn something new about the situation, you should be ready to change your opinion as necessary. If she really thought that she and Rhine Lab did no wrong, she’d probably stay there and not work with us. So have some faith in her, alright?”

The Liberi nodded weakly. Coming to Rhodes Island was an enlightening experience. If only because she had learned how little she could do with her current skill set. And how much she still had to learn. But still, she’ll figure out how to make things right. Bit by bit.

“Yo! Silence!” An impetuous young voice shouted out from the door. The sound of flapping paper punctuated the small bits of silence between the girl’s words. “Check it out! I got a 75 on the last math test! Huh? The heck’s the Doctor doing here? And why do you look so sad? You better not be bullying Silence!”

The caster stomped over to the man in question, who raised his hands up in surrender.

“We were just having a conversation, Ifrit.” The Liberi’s scolding quickly gave way to a warm smile. “Let me take a look. Good job.”

Ifrit put her hands on her hips proudly as Silence pat her on the head.

“I’d say that deserves a reward, don’t you think?” The Doctor teased.

“Hmm. Right. Could you leave the room for a moment, Ifrit? I’ll get you some candy.”

“Okay! I want a lollipop this time. Grape flavor.” The child obediently turned around and marched out, chuckling to herself as Silence quietly opened the safe again. A few moments later, the Doctor and Silence stepped out as well. The woman present a lollipop to Ifrit, who quickly snatched it, tore the wrapper off, and shoved it into her mouth.

“Ifrit, don’t litter.”

“It’s alright, I’ve got it. Anything for the star student.” The Doctor bent down to pick up the discarded wrapper and threw it into a nearby trashcan. He then did the same for the wrappers in his coat pocket, which caused Ifrit’s eyes to bulge out in anger.

“Hey! I recognize those. Silence gave that one to me last week. And that one two days ago. What’d you do to get them from her?! Doctor, you better fess up or I’m gonna burn that jacket off of you.”

Silence groaned and rubbed her temples, the sounds of Ifrit’s shouting getting more and more distant as the caster chased the Doctor down the halls. A wave of sprinklers activating in their wake. What a madhouse this place was sometimes. That wasn’t a bad thing, though. Taking things day by day was good enough for now.

---

“Do you find it somewhat hypocritical, Doctor Silence?” Kal’tsit asked the Liberi as the two of them watched a group of young casters practicing under the guidance of Instructor Pith. Of them, Ifrit and Rosmontis were participating. Silence let out a small murmur of confusion as Kal’tsit kept her eyes glued to the spout of flame melting a paper target.

“We, as an organization, condemn reckless human experimentation. Especially experimentation on children who cannot consent to such ordeals. And yet,” Kal’tsit continued as Rosmontis’s Arts caused a drone to sputter and crash into the ground, the rotor popping off and landing by the older Feline’s foot, “we enjoy the fruits of such exploitation.”

Silence lived up to her name and said nothing. Kal’tsit scared her in a way that none of the Rhine Lab directors ever could. The directors could hide behind their authority, they’d never get their own hands dirty. Kal’tsit, on the other hand, seldom pulled rank, and was more than willing to jump into the thick of things. And then there was that creature of her, Mon3tr.

“Speak freely, Doctor Silence.” The lynx continued in her usual monotone voice, her hands still in her pockets as an errant bolt of Arts energy flew at her, stopped only by a casual swat from Mon3tr. “Rhodes Island values the diversity of thought its employees bring.”

Olivia considered her words. She did object to the initial request to transfer Ifrit to the combat division, but eventually relented. Partially due to the Doctor’s recommendation. It was a curious thing. If Rhine Lab had requested Ifrit do something similar, she would never considered it. Even if Parvis, or Control, or even Saria had asked her. What made Rhodes different?

“You don’t treat her like a weapon.” Olivia began as she watched Ifrit get scolded by an instructor. The young Savra rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, eliciting a tired groaned from her guardian. The instructor threw their arms up in frustration, but otherwise let the young caster be. “You simply see her as a person who’s talented, but a person nonetheless. That perspective makes all the difference. You teach her like any other student. You show her new hobbies. You take her out to have fun. The people here, they see her as just another person. I trust that the Doctor, Amiya, or anyone else here would never make her do something truly immoral. And they would never force her beyond her limits. I-is that acceptable?”

Kal’tsit shrugged. “Your answer ought to matter more to you than to me. While she is the only one who can decide her own path, you will play an immense role in it for the foreseeable future. It may be here for now, but it will not always be. There may come a day when our paths diverge. So keep your answer in mind when that day arrives.”

“Hey, Doctor Silence,” The instructor that was previously trying to reprimand Ifrit walked up to the two medics, “can you throw us a bone here? Your…uh…daughter? Is refusing to follow the lesson plan and none of us want to deal with putting her in time out. Could you get her to calm down before she starts a fight?”

“It seems like there is a duty only you can fulfill.” Doctor Kal’tsit remarked. Her face remained as emotionless as usual, but Silence could almost hear the smirk in her voice. Perhaps she, too, knew what Silence was going through.

---

“Here’s that list of research facilities you wanted. Good hunting out there.” The Doctor handed a nondescript manila folder to Saria. The Vouivre glanced at the burned and frayed ends of the Doctor’s jacket with concern. “Don’t worry about my clothes. It was just a little horseplay. One more thing actually.”

The Doctor reached from under his desk and handed Saria a drone. “We’ve been prototyping a new medical drone recently. This one’s a reinforced model. A bit heavier, but it shouldn’t break that easily. I’ve forwarded a manual to your email. If you get the chance, try it out. We need all the feedback we can get.”

Saria nodded tersely as she accepted the device. She had an idea who made it, although the inventor in question probably had no idea who the Doctor was handing it to.

The defender spoke up. “Don’t be too rough on her, but make sure you teach her how to see the bigger picture. And how to act accordingly. She’ll listen to you. She’s a brilliant researcher, but her convictions alone won’t be enough. No matter how much she wants to fight against it all alone.”

She was certainly not the only one that wanted to wage a one woman war, but the Doctor chose to stay quiet as Saria marched out the door. The light grey drone cradled in her arms.

Chapter Text

Fragrant wine, perfumed with hyacinths and roses, was poured into three drinking cups, the burgundy liquid staining powdered ice.

“My, my. What an interesting custom.” Ling swished her tail back and forth as the priestess carefully shifted the cups to her two guests. “But I must protest, the dilution of spirits certainly dampens mine own spirits.”

“You must be careful, noble poet. A strong wine will drive even the most stoic of heroes mad with rage. And we have already imbibed much plum wine from thine own stocks.” Pallas warned as she swished her own cup around, forming a dark red slurry. The Forte took a sip, the cold liquid pleasingly tart. “Oh, to show you true Minoan chilled wines. The lowland vineyards of Lachedamon married to the snowy summit of Heria. Alas, if you could be pleased with this meager substitute, for that is all the destitute Pallas have to offer.”

“Hmm…Very well. For you are a gracious host, dear priestess. And a charming conversationalist. And strength can be easily substituted by volume. Do you not agree, weaponsmith?”

“Urk!” Sesa gagged as he stared down at his own goblet. Or perhaps two goblets. He put his hand over his face again, trying to look dramatic. It just made him look like a drunk bum. “N-naturally. A paradigm that can be easily transcribed from weaponry to – ugh. Go ahead. You can have mine, too.”

“Oh?” Pallas frowned as Sesa pushed his cup away. Shame and guilt filled the man’s heart as he looked at the wounded expression on the Forte’s face. “Is my offering not agreeable with you? Had I committed a great infraction of hospitality? I shall find something suitable and remedy this immediately. You have my deepest apologies.”

The man suddenly snatched his goblet again and downed the entire thing. He slammed down the entire cup, panting, wine dripping down his face. Ling giggled all the while.

“Now, now, dear weaponsmith. Let us not be drunkards, consumed by their own addiction. We must observe proper decorum. We must first make a toast.” The dragon filled the man’s cup yet again. Except now there was no ice to dilute it. She raised her own before shouting out a cheer. “To our beloved Forte priestess. Most generous of hosts. May fortune smile upon her.”

Sesa weakly raised his own cup before slurring out, “An elegy for Pallas. May she…Good luck to her.”

“An elegy?” The Forte tilted her head, the movement her massive horns disorienting the man. “Had there been some tragedy that I am unaware of?”

The Vouivre groaned as he fell backwards and collapsed on the floor. He needed to correct himself, his image depended on it. But he was too boozed up at this point to even think about what the appropriate word was meant to be. Ling snatched up his cup, adding the untouched wine to her own.

When the Vouivre came to the next day, he had no recollection of what had transpired. Although, whenever Ling or Pallas passed him in the halls, he couldn’t help but shudder at their smiles.

---

“Here you go.” Pramanix wrapped a knit scarf around Rosa’s neck.

“Oh, thank you.” The Ursus gave Pramanix a polite smile. “But you didn’t have to work so hard to give me something.”

“No, I must thank you. I’ve been trying to finish this in what little free time I have, but could never find the motivation.” The saintess had a catlike smile on her face as she mussed with the scarf around Natalya’s neck.

“O-of course. I must imagine someone like yourself is rather preoccupied.”

“Unfortunately.” Enya bitterly spat out. The saintess sighed, she shouldn’t take her frustrations out on this girl. “I wish it had not turn out the way it did, but I have to accept it and move on. Do what I can with the opportunities I have. Oh dear, this must seem rather callous, coming from me.”

The Ursus shook her head. Born into a noble house, only to then be undone by those angered at the vices of her ilk, but then rescued by Rhodes Island and given another chance. It was more than someone like her deserved. But perhaps that was why she needed to try, now more than ever. “Don’t be sorry. Your words…They are truly inspiring. Whatever you think of yourself, you deserve the title of Saintess.”

Enya’s tail swished in front of her blushing face. She was used to hearing such things from the elders of the Vine Bear Court, but they never managed to fluster her. Rosa giggled as the snow leopard tried to hide behind her bushy tail. A tail that, looking at it closer, seemed very soft to touch.

“Excuse me if I’m being inproper,” Rosa began, “but could I touch your tail?”

“Hmm?” The Saintess held the body part in question with one hand. Children would often try to touch it whenever she appeared. Most adults would reprimand them for being rude to the Saintess, but Enya herself didn’t care much. Ensia was always holding onto it when she was younger anyways. And so she would often let the children pet it when their parents were out of sight. “Certainly. Just be careful with it.”

The Feline’s soft tail dangled in front of the bear’s face. Natalya was careful at first, running a finger along the length gently. The tail twitched as she did so, was it ticklish?

Pramanix laughed softly to herself as she watched the Ursus get bolder. With how tall Rosa was, Enya almost forgot that she was still just a school girl. Just a school girl. The Saintess frowned. How old was she was she took on the trials to become Saintess? It couldn’t have been that much older than Natalya was now. She kept a neutral face, lest the girl be frightened. But inside she was fuming. How many young people had been forced into hardship? Because of legacy? Lineage? Because of machinations beyond their knowledge and control?

The Feline took a deep breath. For now, Enya will enjoy being just Enya. Not a Silverash. Not a Saintess. Just a girl who liked lazing around.

“Say, Rosa. Have you ever tried knitting before?” The Ursus looked up, Pramanix’s tail squished against her cheek. The schoolgirl, flustered, let go and stammered.

“N-no. Um, that was not a hobby that was seen as becoming of a…”

“Well, you’re not a noble now, are you? You don’t have to like it, but trying never hurt anyone, unless you get pricked by the needles that is. Come, I’ll show you how to make a cap. If you keep practicing, you could even make some for your friends later.”

“Hmm. Yes. That would be great.” Lada could cook. Anna could plan and bookkeep. Sonya could lead and fight. And Rosalind could keep up everyone’s spirits. Compared to them, Natalya couldn’t contribute anything special. She was strong, but so were the other girls. Perhaps this was her chance to pay them back. Even if only a little.

Afterwards, it wasn’t uncommon to spot the USSG girls wearing knit caps on colder days. Zima complained endlessly about how hot they made her head and how they messed up her hair, but agreeing with her often resulted in the offender getting punched.

---

“This one is good for–“

“Making a salve for stings, correct?” Istina interrupted Breeze. The Vulpo’s ears twitched in surprise as she lowered a leaf.

“Good job! Now, this one is good for–“

“Ah, the bark can be burned to make a painkiller.”

“G-good job. N-now this mold, do you know what it’s used for?” The Ursus girl fiddled with her monocle as she inspected the jar overgrown with a yellow-brown film. Istina shook her head as Breeze smirked. Finally, something she could show off to the girl!

“It’s antibacterial! You get an infection in the field, just slather some on the wound and you’ll be good to go.”

“I see. Where does it grow?”

“Anywhere indoors, usually on fruits. Oh, but you should really stick to the cultures we grow specifically. No telling what weird stuff you’ll get if you leave food out in the open.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m not like Rosalind.” Anna would be keeping this to herself. If she told her friends, their rooms would be condemned for excessive mold in a matter of days.

“Say, how do you know about all these?”

“Hmm? I read about it in a story once.”

“A story? What sort of book tells you about herbal medicine?”

“It was a mystery book. The detective ends up stranded on a deserted island and had to wrestle with both surviving and solving the case.” Istina pulled up the cover on her phone to show to Breeze.

“Huh. I guess they really do write anything these days. Ah, sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean any offense. My hometown’s just the stuffy, traditional type of place. We didn’t get a lot of new things while I was growing up.”

The Vulpo pulled her drawer out, taking a biscuit-looking treat out from a neatly wrapped cloth.

“Go on. It’s something my folks shipped over to me. I never finish them all before they get stale, so if you want more, just holler.”

Istina nibbled on the biscuit. It was far sweeter than she thought it would be. As the Ursus worked through Breeze’s collection of snacks, the wandering medic started regaling the girl about her journeys. About leading a group of villagers through Leithanian woods. Teaching a band of Sargon warriors how to make herbal medicine. Picking herbs in the wild plains of Kazimierz. Anna listened intently to it all, it was as if a storybook character had come to life in the form of Grace the traveling healer.

“Have you ever considered writing this all down?” Anna suggested.

“Huh? Nah.” Grace gave the Ursus a carefree smile as she shrugged. “Helping people’s enough for me. Spare me that aristocratic need for praise.”

“I wasn’t suggesting it from a position of vainglory, Miss Arizona. Stories have the power to inspire, to instruct, and to entertain all at the same time. Even if your travels are simply used as a basis for fiction, would pushing others to walk the same path not be wonderful?”

The Vulpo sighed. Somehow, the Ursus schoolgirl sounded exactly like her parents. “Alright, I concede. That’s a good point. But now the other question is, are you offering to write it for me?”

“Pardon?”

“I’m busy enough with all my medical work. I don’t have time to pen a memoir, so this is the point where I get a ghostwriter to do it for me, right?” The Vulpo raised her eyebrows mischievously.

“I may be an avid reader, but writing is…Well, I have proficiency in academic writing, but…”

“So you can’t do it?” The medic’s Vulpine ears playfully slumped as Istina stammered. Breeze giggled. “Just kidding. Why don’t we let the idea sit for a while? See if it’s still exciting after a few days.”

“C-certainly.” The Ursus girl almost sighed in relief. Reading was one thing. Writing was another. But then again, Instructor Hypatia had praised her essays before for how their technical precision merged with an engaging narrative. Enough that the woman had easily picked up what suggestions Anna had given to Sonya, and what Anna had written for Sonya. Perhaps she should write down some of Grace’s stories, just in case she felt like putting them to paper after all.

---

A camera lens whirred as a slug came into focus. Click still didn’t understand how the thing ate, and the slug itself didn’t seem keen to share as it oozed on top of a leaf of lettuce. The Zalak assumed that it was nibbling on it, but she could see it.

“Come on now, Uman! Don’t be shy now!” Rosalind lifted the slug up, its body undulating as it lost contact with the ground.

“Um, Leto. I can’t show you manhandling the slug, y’know. The algorithm might not care, engagement’s engagement to it after all, but I do.”

“It’s fine. Uman here gets picked up all the time. He’s a tough little guy. Just don’t press down on his spikes. And besides, you can just edit it out afterwards.” The Ursus flashed a toothy grin as she plopped the slug down gently with a wet smack as its body hit the table again. Not to be deterred by the sudden interruption, it quickly made its way back to its food.

Click crouched down lower, finally Uman’s mouth was in view as it ate. “Very nice! Heheh. Might be a bit different from my usual videos, but folks love a good pet feeding.”

Rosalind suddenly jumped up and hit her knee on the table. Click let out a yelp of surprise as the Ursus girl rolled on the floor in pain. For about two seconds before she rose again. “Rosalind, what’s got you all worked up?”

“I just realized. Mister Aleksandr gave Natalya his pet crab. Wouldn’t it be cool if we got a video of that as well? I’ll go ask her now!” The Ursus girl sprinted off before Click could get a word in. The Zalak sighed, before setting up her equipment again. At least Uman wasn’t perturbed by everything that was going on. And now she could get some good long shots without Rosalind in the way.

The girl was a wellspring of endless ideas and enthusiasm, but couldn’t go ten seconds without doing…something. Perhaps Click could rope her into doing some training records later. From doing wilderness scenery to combat records, what a bizarre career path Rhodes Island had led her to.

“There are times when I envy critters like you, Uman.” Click said to the slug. She wasn’t sure if it could even understand her, blissfully munching on greens without a care in the world. The Zalak chuckled to herself. Perhaps that’s why people liked watching these animals all the time.

---

Aurora laughed nervously as she held up a broken whisk. The head was dangling, attached by a single wire. In her other hand was a bowl of cookie dough, perhaps a bit too well stirred.

“Did it break on you?” Hung asked nonchalantly as he pulled out his personal whisk. “Here, you can use mine. I’ll tell the kitchen what happened later.”

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t the kitchen staff get mad?”

“Stuff breaks all the time.” Gummy replied as she continued stirring her bowl. “With all the people we have to cook for, the tools get used until they break. And then we fix them and use them some more!”

“A broken whisk certainly isn’t the worst thing to happen.” Hung tossed the tool into a plastic bin, causing a commotion as it crashed against a dozen other implements. “Gummy, do you remember that one time Blaze tried grilling a steak?”

The Ursus girl nodded and giggled. “She used too much cooking wine and started a fire.”

“Yep. Then her Arts kicked in when she panicked and made the fire even stronger. Suffice to say, she’s lost kitchen privileges for the near future.”

“Oh dear. Was anyone hurt?” Aurora asked.

“Thankfully, no. But afterwards she decided to team up with the kitchen raiders for fun.” Hung answered merrily as he pat Gummy on the shoulder. “But our little cub here can usually hold them at bay.”

“Eheh. It’s really nothing. Gummy would prefer cooking with everyone else, but the chefs can’t fight off Blaze and Kay at all.” The Ursus schoolgirl grinned bashfully. “Alright, I think the dough’s about ready, Mister Hung.”

“Already? Wow, you Ursus girls sure are fast. Even someone like me needs to take a rest whisking all that dough.” The Perro checked his oven. Still preheating. Looks like they had plenty of time to get creative with their designs. He turned around to see Aurora stick her finger into the dough and then lick it. When their eyes met, Aurora dropped her hand down to her side.

“S-sorry. I just heard that…”

“Hahaha! It’s fine. I made sure to not use anything unsafe in this recipe since Lada here wanted to teach her friends how to make it later. Don’t want them to get sick because they ate raw egg. Go ahead, if it’s good now, it’ll be great when it’s done baking.”

The two Ursus girls exchanged a glance before scooping up some more dough.

“See? But Gummy, make sure we still have enough to make cookies with, alright?”

The schoolgirl paused, hand in mouth. It had tasted so good that she was down to about half of what she originally started with. Hung scooped some out of his own bowl and dropped it into hers. “There you go. Now make sure you make some real pretty ones, alright? We might even take pictures and post them later.”

Gummy nodded as she began kneading the dough into various shapes. A heart here and there seemed cute. Maybe a couple with bear ears. She would have to find a way to keep Sonya and Rosalind from just eating it all raw later. Knowing those two, they would be too impatient to wait for the baking if they knew they could just eat it there and then.

“You’re rather considerate, you know that?” Aurora commented in a hushed voice.

“That’s just how I am. Lada here’s a breeze to handle compared to Aak or Waii Fu. Those two’ll keep trying to sneak food off the table before everything’s ready.”

“Oh, your colleagues, yes? From the detective agency?”

“The very same.” Hung boasted. “Well, we handle a lot of things. But that’s what we call ourselves. It’s rough work, taking care of them and Mister Lee. But we’d be buried in takeout if I didn’t cook for them.”

“Wah, that’s no good. Gummy’s friends always eat too much junk food, too.” Gummy chimed in. Aurora and Hung turned to look at her. “Eheh. Sorry, Gummy’s a good listener.”

“Nothing gets past you, huh?” Hung popped open the oven and slid his tray of cookies inside. “But that’s good. It’s up to us to make sure they eat properly. Now, while that’s cooking, Miss Aurora wanted to show us how to make fondue, yes?”

“Of course!” The Ursus from Kjerag clasped her hands together. “It’s great for a group dinner. I’m sure your friends would appreciate it, Gummy!”

Hung and Gummy listened intently to Aurora’s instructions as their cookies baked. Whatever happened in life, whatever calamities ravaged the land, food always had a way of lifting people’s spirits. And the more food, the better. Especially when it was tasty.

---

“Madame Ch’en? And Miss Fiammetta?” Amiya looked at the preliminary groups with concern.

“I don’t think either of them signed up themselves. Doesn’t look like their handwriting.” An HR worker replied lackadaisically.

“Oh no. We shouldn’t be forcing people to sign up. I-I can fix this.”

“Don’t worry.” The bark of a familiar blue-haired Lung caused the little Cautus to jump. “That stupid tigress stops by to visit and the moment she hears about the little program you and the Doctor are running, she goes and signs us all up. Hah. What a pain. It’s not like their rooms are that fancy, given they spend most of their time in Lungmen. But anything to get away from Beatrix, I guess. So what’s the deal with this Fiammetta chick?”

“I think Mostima signed her up, and then promptly left again. She let out a few liturgical curses, but she didn’t tell us to take her off, so I assume she’s fine with it.” The HR worker scratched the back of their neck. For some reason, it felt like the Lung and the Liberi would get along great.

---

Perfumer groaned as she hefted the last shovelful of compost into a planter box. On one hand, she was thankful so many new people were going to Convalescent Garden. Enough to justify an expansion to its budget to Doctor Kal’tsit. On the other hand, maintaining it was eating up all her time now.

“Miss Lena, don’t you think we should take a vacation?” The cheery voice of her apprentice was barely enough to shake the Vulpo out of her fatigue. “I know. We should try signing up for that program HR has been running for a while. Miss Bagpipe told me about how much fun she had when she joined!”

“That would be nice, Podenco. But we still need to work out the volunteer and patient schedules for next week. And then get all the materials ready. And direct the sessions.” Perfumer frowned. The work was rewarding, and she wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world. But, boy, was it exhausting.

Her Perro assistant smiled as inspiration struck her. “Why don’t we let Mister Flamebringer take care of it all? He’s been feeling listless without any fighting lately, I’m sure he’ll appreciate having something to do.”

“Him? He’s great at taking care of the plants and all, but I’m worried he’ll scare off the helpers.”

“Oh, that’s right. I know! I’ll ask Miss Lisa to help out, too! That should balance things out.”

“Balancing things out isn’t what I had in mind.” Lena thought to herself, before sighing. She did need a break. And odds are Lisa could keep the Sarkaz blademaster in line, probably. With any luck, she wouldn’t get any angry emails when she got back from her day off.

---

Phase Five Groupings

Ashlock-Pinecone

Fartooth-Firewatch

Ch’en-Fiammetta

Perfumer-Matoimaru

Podenco-Nine-Colored Deer

Reed-Aciddrop-April

Hoshiguma-Earthspirit

Wild Mane-Ethan-Jackie

Swire-Flametail-Doctor

Chapter Text

“This is…my room.” Fartooth said, still not wholly believing it herself. She had been on Rhodes Island for a while. She and all the members of Pinus Sylvestris. A bedroom was where she could hang up her armor, let go of her weapon, shed off her identity as a knight. Go back to being Justyna.

In Kazimierz, any knight with a modicum of fame had their every waking moment and then some scrutinized. If not by the media, then by fans and paparazzi. In Kazimierz, she had had a room to sleep in, but not a bedroom. She had forgotten what it felt like to have one of those.

“Mmm.” Firewatch made a non-committal sound as she walked in. Slowly, deliberately. Lightfooted, like she was probing the room for traps or unstable structures. A habit, perhaps, when she encountered some place unfamiliar.

“You need not restrain yourself.” Justyna smiled quietly as the Elafia was emboldened ever so slightly. Firewatch walked over to something framed on the wall. A weapon, but one unlike what she had seen the knight use. It was an old-fashioned longbow, made of yew with a broken hemp string. A far cry from the modern metals and polymers of Justyna’s crossbow.

“That was the first bow I ever had.” The Liberi smiled nostalgically. “I remember posing with it constantly, thinking about how gallant I would look with it. It took me months of working extra to scrape up enough money.”

“Where did you work?”

“Anywhere I could. Tilling the fields. Hoisting hay bales. Tending to the burdenbeasts. Delivering parcels.” Fartooth narrated nostalgically. What she wouldn’t give to relive those days again. Sona had given her a few games where the hero had started off adventures like that. Doing odd jobs around their hometown to get small trinkets. And then some other games where that was the whole point. Justyna liked the latter more.

“Oh, you’re from the country?” Firewatch asked. That was certainly unexpected. She had assumed most competition knights were born and raised in the nomadic cities. Sure, during her youth, she knew people the migrated to those steel behemoths for fame and fortune, but more often than not they ended up in the factories. It didn’t matter how strong or experienced country fighters were, most of them stood no chance against citydwellers that were bred for knighthood. And had the connections to boot.

“Yes. It was a quiet little village in the country. Farming was hard work, but we were content.”

“What made you leave?”

“What makes most people in Kazimierz’s countryside leave.” Justyna answered humbly. “In our village, only a few of us had modern appliances. When the Major came around, we would all huddle in the local tavern. Elders, children, everyone. Constantly fighting for space to see the feed come in through the old CRT television.”

The Liberi laughed quietly as bittersweet memories rose from the depths of Firewatch’s heart. She fought them back. Shaking her head, the Elafia turned around. She couldn’t see Fartooth’s gaze, but she could feel it drilling into her backside.

She clicked her tongue. Why did she let Meteorite convince her to do this? Looking around the room, her eyes went to the Liberi’s bed. On it was a small plushie of a familiar golden-haired Kuranta.

“This is…” Firewatch gently picked the doll up and glanced back at the Liberi, a faint red tinged her cheeks.

“The Radiant Knight. An acquaintance got it for me after the Major. She was the one that inspired me in the first place.”

“And now she’s your coworker.”

“Yes.” Fartooth chirped out. “It’s quite a surprise. What about you, Miss Firewatch. Did you look up to any knights?”

“Once.” The Elafia glanced aside as she set the doll down.

Fartooth gasped as she realized what she had just asked. She chided herself. She was usually more thoughtful than this. Had reminiscing caused her to abandon all caution? “I apologize. I spoke out of turn.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The Elafia’s tone was cold, despite her words saying otherwise. “I can forgive an innocent mistake. There are far worse crimes that need to be punished.”

The Liberi nodded, but fidgeted with her hands regardless. The Doctor had briefed her as much as he could. She even tried to seek out Miss Meteorite just to make sure she wouldn’t run into any sore topics by mistake. She looked at Firewatch again, the reindeer stared blankly at her, waiting to see what happened next. Just then, inspiration struck.

Justyna opened her desk drawers, pulling out rubberbanded stacks of letters until she finally found a wooden pipe. She picked it up and blew a few notes, causing the Elafia to perk up.

“A fife?”

Justyna grunted. “I make these in my free time. They’re not as good as what they make in Leithania, but they’re fun to play. I tried to get the other girls to learn, but it didn’t work out.”

“Oh?”

“They’re all too energetic, but somehow all in their own ways. Iwona is too forceful. Sona gets too excited. Greynuty gets frustrated too easily. Would you like to try?”

Firewatch took the wooden instrument. It was unvarnished. Despite that, it had been sanded down carefully to avoid splinters. It didn’t have keys, just holes. A crude instrument, but a charming one.

The Elafia placed her mouth on the lip plate and blew. She squeaked out a few notes, enough to make Fartooth giggle at the very least.

“Tch. Too different from a harmonica.”

“Oh, you play harmonica?”

“Sometimes. You can find me playing on the deck. Normally I don’t like an audience, but if people’re quiet, I’ll let them stay.”

“I see. I would love to listen to you one day.” Fartooth smiled as she packed the fife away, next to a piccolo and flute. Firewatch knelt down to help her, picking up the papers Fartooth had excavated.

“What are all of these?”

“Letters from my fans.”

Firewatch raised an eyebrow. The Liberi didn’t seem like the type to obsess over adoration. And yet she had an entire drawer filled. Curious, the Elafia read the letter on top of the pile.

Dear Miss Fartooth Knight,

I hope this letter gets to you. The kind infected knight said he promised to send it to wherever you are. The knight competitions haven’t been nearly as interesting since you left. I heard rumors that you even joined a knight club! I’m not sure if someone on social media is just trolling or not, but if it’s true, I’m happy for you. You always seemed so lonely when you were on camera, so I hope you found some new friends!

Normally I’m fine just cheering you on from the comfort of my living room, but I wanted to write this to you because of everything that’s happened recently. I may not be infected, but I was born pretty sickly. So seeing an infected knight like you up there standing proud, I couldn’t help but be inspired. Wherever you are now, I just wanted you to know that people back in Kawalerielki still support you. It’s fine if you never come back, so long as you’ve found somewhere you’re happy at! But if you ever do, my friends and I will be the first to cheer you on! I’ll even buy front row seats!

“Quite the loyal bunch.” Justyna blushed again, having peered over the Elafia’s shoulder to read the letter as well.

“Yes. I’m very thankful for the fanbase I’ve attracted. They’re all so polite and supportive.”

“I guess fans mirror their idol.”

The Liberi smiled, but her eyes seemed conflicted. Firewatch wondered why. The letter was innocent enough. Just a devoted fan wishing the best.

“Sorry. I was just wondering whether I should ever go back.”

“Back home?”

The Liberi shook her head. Kawalerielki wasn’t her home. She just got stuck there for far too long. There wasn’t much she remembered fondly. She couldn’t go anywhere nice as an infected. The competitions were just a way to earn money. Her fans, though. The way they lit up whenever she looked their way. She wished she had the time to chat with all of them.

“They’re holding out hope that I’ll one day return to the arena. Even if the situation calms down, I don’t know if I ever will, but it would be a shame to disappoint them.”

“I’m not much help here. Guerrillas like me prefer not being seen in the first place.” The Elafia was fine with individuals that happened to be competition knights. Nearl, this girl and her friends? Whatever. They were alright.

But she despised competition knights in general. Fighting for fun while she and her kin held Ursus at bay. Would they even be any help against the bears’ armies? Definitely not. They’d get shelled once by long range artillery and complain about things being unfair.

“Have you even been back to your home? Your real home.”

Again the Liberi shook her head. This time mournfully. “I can’t. It’s still there, but Justyna can’t return anymore. Not as an infected.”

“How badly do they treat the infected there?”

“Not the worst.” The Liberi scrunched her face as she thought. Her village was lucky. It was far away from any major catastrophe zones. The few infected she knew could visit the village perimeter as far as she recalled. They must have lived somewhere close by. Her friends never once voiced their opinion, it never came up. More pressing issues, like crop failures, wild pests, or bandits, occupied most conversations. So in truth, she truly didn’t know.

But did she want to know, is the real question. If that was never answered, she wouldn’t have to face the pain of being rejected. The friends and family in her memories could remain hopeful that one day Justyna will return. That their town will become known as the hometown of a famous knight. That they wouldn’t have to deal with the burden of being the hometown of Fartooth, the infected knight.

“You don’t have to think about it if you don’t want to.” Firewatch’s voice interrupted the Liberi’s ruminations. “I can tell it’s a question you want to avoid. But listen to me.”

“Hmm?”

“Your home, it’s still there. But who knows how long it’ll be like that. The world’s a dangerous place. All it takes is one catastrophe, one mercenary gang out of a job. One bad harvest.” The Elafia sighed as Fartooth stared at her. The Liberi understood it logically, that much was plain on her face. Maybe she even knew people that went through what Firewatch did. But she didn’t get it, not emotionally. A practical demonstration was better.

“Follow me. I’ll show you what I mean.”

---

Firewatch’s room reminded Fartooth of the old safehouses the infected knights used to have in the slums. Perfect for evading authorities and planning out their operations.

Sparsely decorated, her window obscured by camo netting. Equipment in easy to access places. Yep. It was more of a safehouse than a bedroom. There was no way Firewatch could feel comfortable resting here. Or maybe she did. Fartooth has certainly met quite a few on Rhodes Island who could relax and sleep in the most bizarre places.

“Comfort isn’t the point. The point is to prepare for my next journey.” Firewatch replied, as if she could read Fartooth’s mind. “I much prefer the wilderness anyways. All this metal. All this machinery. It’s too noisy in all the wrong ways.”

“Yes. The drone of the engines can be quite unsettling.” Justyna closed her eyes and listened to the low hum of the landship. It was better than Kawalerielki’s engines, no doubt. But it was still loud. It still drowned out the wind.

The knight had gotten too used to the sound. The first time she had gone out to the countryside again had been a mission for Rhodes Island. Nature seemed so silent back then. There were plenty of noises, but there weren’t as relentless. The chirping of featherbeasts, the way the leaves rustled in a breeze. It was soothing after so long listening to the ambient cacophony of a city. “I wonder at times if it’s a good thing I can sleep through it nowadays.”

The Elafia shrugged. Fartooth walked up to a bulletin board, on which was a map of the Kazimierz border. Thumbtacks were pinned at various locations, along with photos that seemed like they were ripped out of a travel guide or brochure. The Liberi shivered. Something like this, it reminded her of the Armorless Union.

“My hometown was a little border settlement near Ursus.” Firewatch pointed to a point on the map. In her hands was a laminated birch leaf, ash white and half-charred. “This is all I have left of it.”

Fartooth’s eyes widened as she looked at the memento. She found herself speechless.

“When Ursus came, hellbent on conquering us, we fought. We held when reinforcements were nowhere to be seen.” Firewatch narrated bitterly. “Until someone betrayed us. Gave our position away.”

“I will hunt them down. All of them.” Firewatch’s face darkened. To an almost psychotic degree. “Whoever they are. Wherever they may be. For everyone they killed. For the towns they burned.” Fartooth had seen that look before on many infected in Kazimierz. The ones that raged against the nation that abandoned them. Had she not met the other girls, that might’ve been her after a few years.

The Elafia sighed. “But that’s not the point of my story.” She stared at the leaf again mournfully. “My home. I can never go back to it. It exists only in my memories now. Even if new settlers move in, build on top of the ruins, it wouldn’t be my home.”

The Liberi nodded slowly. Now she was starting to understand what Firewatch meant. But just then, a name slipped from her lips. “…Sona.”

“Hmm?”

“Ah.” Fartooth caught herself and thought for a moment. Right. The girls she had met. That she had become friends with. They had confided in each other. Shared their tragedies to each other.

“Sona lost her home to a catastrophe.” Fartooth began, recalling what her friends had told her. “Iwona and Greynuty were both banished from their homes for being infected. I know I am the most fortunate out of all of us, even if only by absence of evidence. But, I just realized. They can never truly get revenge for their misfortune. Flametail cannot fight a catastrophe. Wild Mane and Ashlock are not willing to turn their arms against their own kin.”

“Are you trying to imply something?” The Elafia asked neutrally.

Fartooth stopped and thought for a moment. Soon, she realized her blunder. “Ah. No. I did not mean to imply you were fortunate in that regard. I was just thinking out loud.”

“So long as you weren’t.” There wasn’t a smile on the Elafia’s face, but her eyes seemed more energetic than before. Her voice slightly more relaxed. Was she teasing Fartooth?

“There’s a lot of sadness in this world. The only true end for all of us is closure. That’s why I recommend you face your acceptance or rejection head on rather than leaving it an open question.”

“Closure?” The Elafia grunted affirmatively.

“An end to it all. Like a period. Like the last leaf to fall just as autumn turns to winter.” The Elafia yawned and slouched into a beanbag chair, the conversation having taken too much energy. And being far too heavy.

Fartooth recalled the time Iwona had gotten a letter from her family. A formal apology and an offer to reconcile. Wild Mane promptly ignored it and tossed the letter away, laughing off her past as if it didn’t haunt her at all anymore. Skipping to the cafeteria as carefree as ever. Is that what Firewatch meant by closure?

I’m no Kaliska, anymore. Why should I care about what happens to them? Fartooth recalled Ashlock telling her that once, when rumors from Kazimierz reached Rhodes Island. The Zalak clearly still held a grudge, but more and more she was focused on what to do now.

“If you hang on to that image of a village expecting your triumphant return that you can never have, it’ll gnaw away at you. It’ll haunt you forever.”

“But your revenge…” Fartooth thought the Elafia wasn’t one to lecture her about having lingering issues.

“I fully intend to kill them, wherever they are.” Firewatch answered coldly. “Once, I was willing to trade my life for it. Maybe that was even my intention.”

Her expression softened. “But someone close reminded me. My home. My friends and family. They will only live on through me. Once the traitors are all dead, I intend to leave it at that. I already have plans for what I want to do afterwards.”

“Really?” Firewatch nodded resolutely.

“I intend to hunt the other sinners of the world. The ones that evade justice. I swear, they will not evade my crossbow. So that those like me will never have to walk this path as well.”

The Elafia crossed her legs as she sunk deeper into her soft cushion, her harsh words a stark contrast to the lazy oaf she was currently being. “So, how about you?”

“Eh? Me…Umm…Hmm…” Fartooth continued to hem and haw, zoning out into her own world as she pondered the question. Truth be told, so long as she could stay with Pinus Sylvestris, she would be happy. But that wasn’t a goal so much as it was maintaining a certain status quo.

“It’s fine if you don’t wanna face your home head on. Everything doesn’t have to happen in the now.” Firewatch yawned out. “But you’re not willing to trade your life for some singular purpose like I was, so think about how you want to spend it.”

What did she want to do? She had been going through the motions, eking out a life in Kawalerielki, for so long. Maybe she should take inspiration from Miss Nearl?

Firewatch stayed motionless as she let the Liberi work through the question. She had to do the same when she started thinking about the future as well. This wasn’t something she could give advice on. Fartooth knew Fartooth best.

The past, no matter how painful, was at least familiar. She could slip mindlessly into the same old routines and habits without ever needing to pause and really consider what she wanted out of life.

But now, thanks to Meteorite, the Doctor, and everyone else here…

Firewatch yawned again, the beanbag chair too comfortable to keep her awake. And today was more exhausting than usual. She has certainly changed.

If she were still in the forest, she would never think about dozing off while there was someone around. Certainly not a mere acquaintance. Maybe not even a friend. Her eyelids drooped down. Surely Justyna wouldn’t mind if she took a little nap.

By the time the Elafia opened her eyes again, she met the golden eyes of Fartooth, staring at her expectantly. The Liberi had taken to sitting crosslegged on the floor.

“Mmm…?” Firewatch stirred, rubbing her eyes clear. “…Sorry.”

“No problem. Were you tired?”

“Sort of. Hah. My kind. We don’t like expending energy that much. Even when I hunt, I like perching myself in a vantage point and staying there.”

“Sounds relaxing. I would like to try that sometime.”

“Next time some operators go hunting, you can ask to go along with them.”

“Alright. By the way, I managed to come up with an answer a little while ago.”

“A little while ago?” The Elafia looked out her window, the skies were now dyed orange and yellow. She clicked her tongue. “You could’ve woken me up.”

“No. I needed some time to think.” The Liberi smiled gently. Firewatch raised an eyebrow. She was quite the deliberative person if she needed that long. “I want to be someone like that one day.”

“Like what?”

“Like Miss Nearl. Or Sona. Or you. Someone that stands up for what’s they think is right.”

The Elafia felt herself getting flustered, her cheeks warming up.

“Your mission. If you want any help, just ask. My bow is at your disposal.” Fartooth offered.

“I… Thank you.” The reindeer sighed. “There have been so many that have offered the same. But too many hunters scare away the prey. I’m wondering if I should just do it alone.”

“Alone.” Justyna hung on that word. “If you so wish. But… you’re like me. Aloof. But prone to loneliness. If you ever find yourself free, would you like to spend time together?”

“Will your friends be with you? No offense, but they’re too noisy for me.”

Fartooth shook her head, a small giggle escaping her throat. “I agree. They drown out my own thoughts whenever we’re together. That’s why I would like some friends on the quieter side. Who can share the breeze with me.”

Firewatch stared at the Liberi earnestly looking back at her. She wasn’t a good conversationalist. Not anymore. She was out of practice. But maybe this would be a good opportunity. The Elafia gave Fartooth a minute nod.

“Wonderful. I’m Justyna. Justyna Valentine.” The Liberi said cheerfully. Firewatch kept quiet, the Liberi’s face slowly morphed into confusion as she waited for the Elafia to reciprocate.

“Sorry. Until my friends are avenged, the name of our group is my only name.”

“You would fit in well with some of the competition knights then.” Fartooth teased. A low groan escaped Firewatch’s throat. She realized that kind of melodrama would probably be marketing gold for the knight clubs. But she didn’t want to give up her codename just yet. Even after her mission was complete, she’ll keep it as a memorial. She just needed to stay away from Kazimierz’s arenas.

“Dinner.” Fartooth started. “It’s about time, isn’t it? Would you like to eat with me?”

Firewatch shook her head. “Not hungry yet. Go ahead and eat with your friends.”

The eagle looked crestfallen. She would hate to end things here.

“If you want to hang out again, I’ll be on the deck tomorrow evening. Watching the sunset. Bring your flute.” A faint smile appeared on Firewatch’s face, the first Fartooth had seen the entire day.

“I’m glad there’s been a cold front. All the other deckside buskers have stayed indoors lately.” Firewatch stated flatly. Justyna assumed that was a joke. The Fartooth Knight smiled as she waved goodbye. She thought about the conversations she had with Firewatch.

In another life, in other circumstances, would she have walked the same path as the Elafia? Would the Elafia had walked the same path as her if her village was further from the border? Possibilities swirled in her head. She pushed them all aside.

She would look more towards the future for now. For example, she would need to figure out what songs she and Firewatch could play together. And perhaps an arrangement with her knight club. And maybe some of her fans as well.

---

Two farmers stood gobsmacked as some couriers from a company they had never seen before unload a semi-truck, unveiling bags and crates of fertilizer, farming tools, medicine, and even a few modern machines.

“T-this has to be a mistake.” One of them said.

“Nope. Trust me, we don’t make mistakes.” A MountainDash Logistics worker answered crisply, clipboard in hand. “Seems you folks have some guardian angels. Even got some crowdfunded stuff. A charitable donation from…um…Pinus Sylvestris? Says here they’re a knight club. I don’t really follow sports, so I don’t know if they’re famous or not.”

The two farmers looked at each other. Neither of them had ever heard that name in their lives. Sure, they were used to companies visiting and making donations for good PR, but this was something else. It wasn’t just the latest product that would break the moment the media lost all interest in them, it was stuff they could use for a long while. More and more people came out to see what the commotion is.

“Kurwa! Look at all this! If they ask for a photo shoot, I might actually give ‘em a genuine smile this time.”

“That’s the weird part,” the worker said, “they ain’t here. They even wanted this to be an anonymous donation. You guys don’t even get to know which knights paid for all this.”

“Honest?” A woman asked. The deliveryman nodded. “I guess not all knights are self-absorbed.”

“Come on now, they do one good deed and suddenly they’re alright? There has to be a catch.”

“Erh. Kind of?” The worker began. “They gave us a bunch of saplings, said to give it to people who might know how to plant them. We’ve got a whole ‘nother truck’s worth of endangered birch and pine trees. You want some?”

“Pine, huh?” A farmer murmured. “Oh, I get it. But why the birch? You know what, whatever. We’ll take some. If that’s our only repayment, that’s nothing. Better than being paraded around some company’s social media page.”

With the delivery sorted, the MountainDash Logistics workers packed up and began driving to their next destination.

“The Kazimierz-Ursus border. Wonder what’s even there?” The driver muttered.

“There are a couple of Elafia settlements in the forests.” The clipboard wielding messenger replied. “They’re a bit hard to find, but they’re nice folks. A shame they always get caught in the crossfire.”

“Is this next delivery also courtesy of Pinus Sylvestris?”

“Yyyep. Aside from the usual aid, there are radios, thermals, even a couple recon drones. No models I’m familiar with, think they might be custom-made. Don’t know how they have so much money, though. I guess that’s knights for you. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be able to throw my wealth around like this.”

“What would you do with it?’’ The driver asked.

“Send it all back to my hometown. They sure as hell need it. Now that I think about it, I wonder if this knight club has anyone from that village. Or maybe from the Elafia settlements. They’re both way out of the way. You wouldn’t know about them just by reading Kawalerielki’s city net.”

“Who knows?” The driver shrugged.

---

The wind whispered across the deck as two lonely snipers gazed northward. One held a recorder. The other a harmonica.

“Do you know this song?” Firewatch played a simple melody. Fartooth shook her head before trying a tune of her own. One the Elafia was also unfamiliar with.

“This is harder than I expected.” Firewatch muttered to herself. Maybe a seasonal song then. As the notes left her harmonica, Fartooth’s eyes lit up. “Alright, jump in whenever you feel like it.”

The two closed their eyes as their notes were carried on the winds. The melody was playful. Syncopated. Dance-like. But also tinged with somberness. The memories of countless autumn afternoons flickered before their eyes.

The peaceful forest, winds billowing through the vibrant leaves. An empty field, the bounty of the earth piled high in a nearby wagon. A jubilant dirge. A mournful hymn. A dedication to the autumn leaves and the autumn crop. A last celebration of life before the cold death of winter set in. The two entreated the wind to carry their hearts homeward.

Let the forests of home, ravaged by war, grow strong and hardy again. Let the roots and grasses overgrow the scars left behind. That was Firewatch’s wish. So that one day, she could return and see the leaves she missed so dearly change colors. Let the traitors know that they will never find respite, in this world or the next. And let the others know that their little girl survived. That their deaths were not in vain. That she has found a new home. And a new calling.

For Fartooth, her wishes were similar to the countless ones she had given to the winds before. Similar, but not the same. Let everyone know that Justyna finally became a knight. A true knight. One that fought not for gold or glory, but against injustice. Let them know that she has seen the cruelty and unfairness of this world, but has found people who would reject it alongside her. And that one day, perhaps in the distant future, when the infected have one to look forward to, Justyna Valentine the Infected could return home. Just as she promised all those years ago.

Their melancholic song continued. For those they could no longer reach. For those they wished to reach. But eventually, their melody swells. It was the nature of the piece, after all. The last fall harvest heralded the end of one lifetime, and the anticipation of another. For winter never lasts forever. The dead forests will bloom again. The empty fields will soon be plowed and seeded anew. And people will always find their way home, even if it’s to a new one.

---

Chapter Text

The red haired and blue haired women stared at each other. Neither willing to budge. The other groups had all left the common room minutes ago.

“I’ll go first.” They both said at the same time. A simultaneous sigh followed.

“My room’s closer.” Fiammetta said.

“It’s also on another level.” Ch’en countered.

“Hmph.”

“Hmph.”

The vents hissed cold air as the two faced off against each other again.

“We should flip a coin.” Ch’en finally suggested.

“Agreed. I call heads.” Fiammetta pulled a coin out of her pocket and flicked it into the air. Both the Lung and the Liberi fought off the urge to snatch it outright. That would just get them back to square one. The silver disc spun above their heads and fell back into her palm.

“Looks like I’m going first.” Ch’en motioned for the Liberi to follow her. For all the snooping she had done prior, Ch’en figured the Lateran would’ve been far harder to get along with. The Lung was used to dealing with headstrong people. Her friends and family in Lungmen fit that bill perfectly. Fiammetta, by comparison, was just a little grumpy and serious. Not unlike her. This little disagreement of theirs was resolved in record time in her view.

The dragon’s room was just about what everyone on the ship expected from her. Neat. Meticulous. Organized. Not a single patch of dust or a stain to be seen. She even had two metal filing cabinets moved in for who knows whatever reason. Any skid marks they might’ve left had been polished and washed away, the metal tiling given a mirror sheen. On her desk were three monitors. One filled with a rolling news feed. Another with various files and dossiers related to Rhodes Island’s field operations.

“Do you keep these on all the time?” Fiammetta asked.

“Of course not. I turn them off when I go to sleep.”

“So how often is that?” Silence was her answer. “Well, can’t exactly criticize you there.”

“Oh?”

The Liberi scowled as she rubbed her forehead. “Keeping tabs on my partner is a pain. Take your eye off Mostima for a second, and she’s somehow in the next town over.”

“I know that feeling.” Ch’en knew a couple of troublemakers herself. And the number only seemed to increase the longer she stayed at Rhodes Island. Including… Including…

The Lung’s gaze fell onto a quaint little grey doll attached to one of her travel bags. She detached the keychain and held the doll in her hands. Its cartoonish orange eyes stared at her, a black sword attached to one of its hands, a black crown on one of its ears.

“Never seen anything like this before.” Fiammetta commented as she leaned in to get a closer look. “What is it?”

“My sister.” Ch’en tersely replied. Conflicting emotions flashed onto her face as she continued staring at the little caricature. Emotions that the Liberi was familiar with herself. Betrayal. Adoration. Loss. Guilt. What Fiammetta couldn’t figure out was why Ch’en wanted to hold on to a keepsake like that. But she felt that the two of them weren’t close enough just yet to answer that question.

“Sorry. Got distracted for a moment there.” Ch’en abruptly broke off that line of conversation. She squeezed the doll in her hand slightly, its head bulged as stuffing was displaced. “It’s a good stress toy, I find. That’s at least one use for it.”

“Oh, maybe I should get something like that myself.” Fiammetta muttered. On one hand, she couldn’t stomach seeing that man’s face, having a facsimile near her would drive her crazy. On the other hand, getting to rough up an effigy of him whenever she wanted sounded mighty tempting. She had heard rumors about a young girl at Rhodes Island that specialized in making hex dolls. Maybe she could go and get one. Drive a couple nails into the bastard, see how high she could make it bounce, maybe shoot him out of her guns. Even if it did nothing to the real person, it would at least make her feel better.

“You’ve got one hell of a nasty look on your face.” Ch’en commented.

“Do I? Huh. Sorry. Was just thinking about something.” The Liberi’s face relaxed, but she wasn’t smiling. Then again, neither of them was the smiling type.

“By the way, you want some movies? Or snacks?” Ch’en opened her closet to reveal stacks of CD cases and food packages. “Feel free to take your pick. I’ve got too many.”

“Why?” The Liberi immediately went to Ch’en’s collection of movies. There were plenty she was familiar with already. Although, there were a few Lungmenite action flicks the Liberi had yet to watch. And so she picked those out.

The blue haired woman sighed wistfully. “People I know back in Lungmen seem to think I’m homesick or something, so they keep giving me stuff even when I’m out on missions constantly. I don’t know who leaves these things in my room, but they give me way too much. If this keeps up, I’ll have to requisition a new closet.”

“You don’t know? I figured a cop would be able to figure it out.”

“Heh. I managed to narrow it down to a few people. It’s either Hoshiguma. Shirayuki. Or that other Zalak. But whoever it is, they’re good at scrubbing the camera footage. Even the ones I installed personally.”

“Must really piss you off, huh?”

“Heh. A little bit.” Ch’en smirked. Just a few years ago, office pranks like these would’ve warranted a tirade, maybe a department-wide lecture. But people were adaptable, she found out. Given enough time, anyone could get used to their work environment, for better or worse. “I’ve got more important things to do than track down a bunch of pranksters that aren’t actually harmful.”

As the Liberi continued picking out her choice of movies, she looked over the other things stuffed into Ch’en’s closet. Everything was organized by classification. The snacks had a designated snack section. The comics in a dedicated comic section. The books in the book section. Looking up, the clothes were organized as well. Casual wear to the left. Formal wear to the right.

Some of the books fit the image of the former police officer. Combat manuals. The various legal codes of nations and nomadic cities. Textbooks on organizational management or urban planning. Even a few books on ethics. Those ones seemed more recently read than the rest.

“Coming here has made me realize how easy being a police officer was at times.” Ch’en began. “You apprehend a subject, maybe interrogate them, but then it’s off to the courts with them. You can have your own personal opinions, but you don’t really make judgments about whether or not their guilty. Or what they deserve as punishment. That’s outside your authority, as it should be.”

“Must be a rather hard shift for you. Seems like you’re the type to dislike vigilantes on principle.”

“You can say that again.” A look of disgust flashed on her face before being overruled by understanding. “But out in the wilderness, there aren’t courts. There aren’t jails or judges. Or legal codes. Out there, people have to be judge, jury, and executioner themselves. When the entire weight of people’s lives rests on your shoulders, it feels damn heavy. Although, I guess a person like me’s the only type that freezes up when thinking about such things.”

“You’re not the only one that’s a slave to protocol. God knows, I know some folks like that.” Fiammetta muttered as she glanced aside. “At least you’re adapting well enough. I don’t think those stuffy Lateran bureaucrats could stomach a day without following the rules.”

“Oh? I figured you were the serious type.”

“Hey, I am!” The Liberi protested. “It’s why I don’t like all the frills surrounding my work. If they could just let me do my job, I’d be happy. But no. Always with the stupid meetings that get derailed over what snacks are the best. Conversations I can’t follow half the time. And all the dumb nicknames they keep giving me!”

“Stupid nicknames, like what?”

“Like – Ahh…” Fiammetta stopped herself and glared at the Lung. “Nice try, but no. I already let those slip to the Doctor, and he’s given me shit about it ever since.”

“Maybe I should ask him later.”

The Liberi rolled her eyes. “Just don’t go spreading them around, it’s already bad enough he and Mostima use them.”

“If you say so.” Ch’en chuckled, she wouldn’t make any promises. The Lung looked at her old badge hanging on the wall. “You would like the LGD, I think. It’s way more serious than whatever place you work at.”

“Trust me, most organizations are more serious than my workplace. Rhodes Island is a well disciplined company compared to them.”

“Ever think about getting a transfer? Some time in a more serious work environment might do you wonders.”

Fiammetta scoffed. “Only if Mostima does. But if she ever did, we’d be switching workplaces every week, so no thanks. I’ll just see the jobs Rhodes Island gives me as a vacation.”

The Liberi looked at the water guns hanging on Ch’en’s wall. Right next to her swords. “Speaking of vacations, I think I saw you in some footage during the Dossoles competition.”

Ch’en groaned. “Who hasn’t at this point? You know, the instructors use the recordings for training for whatever reason. Not like there’s much to learn from it, given our poor showing.”

“If you call that a poor showing, what would you consider good?”

A competitive fire was lit in the Lung’s eyes. “Wanna go to the range and find out? I’ve been practicing more with those guns these days.”

“Sure. Just don’t get cocky. You’re good for someone’s that self-taught.” The fiery Liberi shot back. “But you don’t have anything on me.”

“We’ll see.” Ch’en picked up the lighter of the two guns and twirled it around her fingers. “I’m getting more use out of these than my swords these days. It’s way easier to knock people out with them.”

“And I can imagine Engineering gets to have a field day whenever you come in.” Whenever Fiammetta brought anything into Rhodes’ workshops, she was always swarmed with technicians and craftspeople chomping at the bit to take a look at her stuff. Giving the number of Sankta already on board, she didn’t mind divulging the occasional thing about firearms. She just wished they didn’t flag her down to test the latest dangerous idea they came up with.

“Something like that. They keep giving me weird solutions to put into these things.” Ch’en hoisted the gun back up and opened a crate filled with multicolored liquids. If Fiammetta didn’t have context, she might’ve mistaken them for energy drinks. Mostima and Lemuen definitely would’ve tried to drink them regardless.

The Liberi picked up a canister that was bright red. “Is this a pepper solution?”

“Yeah. Apparently for crowd control. But given how high the pressure and volume of my guns are, it just seems excessive. I’d toss it away, but I’m worried nothing will grow where it spills.”

“That bad, huh?” The Lateran took out another canister, one with multiple yellow and orange stickers attached to it. Corrosive. Poisonous. Emits toxic fumes. “I-is this acid?!”

“I swear, they gave me that as a prank.” Ch’en replied in a deadpan voice. “I don’t know if there are actually toxins in it, but no way am I ever using that. They ever give you anything weird?”

“Sometimes. Hey, Fia! Try these airburst rounds. Hey, Fia! I made some fragmentation warheads. Hey, Fia! Have you ever thought about using flashbangs?” The Liberi recited in a bored tone of voice. “I guess I lucked out and got all the useful ideas.”

Ch’en plopped a few canisters down, some half-filled with a white solution. “They’re not all bad. These ones deploy a foam that holds people down. That’s at least useful without causing horrific suffering to our enemies. I imagine yours are more restricted compared to mine. I mean, the only requirement for me is that they’re water soluble and don’t damage my weapons.”

“I suppose so. Hmm…Give me a second. I just remembered something.” Fia went back to Ch’en’s closet to pick up a few more movies and comics.

“What’s the rush?”

“All this talk about weapons reminded me that someone I know would give me an earful if I didn’t get him some of these.” The Liberi replied, her arms now loaded with media. “You mind never getting these back?”

“No problem. Not like I had time for them all anyways.”

Ch’en helped carry all the goods Fiammetta appropriated back to her room. Two plastic bags filled with discs and comics. Along with a month’s worth of snacks, although the Liberi said they would be gone in a week’s time somehow. Ch’en almost wanted to see it happen firsthand.

---

One of Ch’en’s eyes twitched as a low hiss left her mouth.

“I know what you’re thinking. I hate it too, but I’ve given up trying to clean it.” Fiammetta replied in a tired voice.

One half of the room wasn’t as orderly as the former superintendent’s, but was at least presentable. The other half was a cesspool. Styrofoam containers of food shoved into garbage bags then tossed into a corner. Clothing draped over anything and everything. What Ch’en could only guess were official documents scattered everywhere like a fan blew them all around.

“You’re welcome to try.” The Liberi snarked at the silently seething Lung. “But Mostima’s habits tend towards chaos, like some damn entropic field. Give her a day, and it’ll be back to this state.”

The blue haired woman started chuckling, which worried Fiammetta.

“Sorry, this takes me back.” Ch’en let out a nostalgic exhale. “I had a roommate like this once. Back at the Royal Guard Academy.”

“Where are they now?”

“Here. Thankfully, she lives in a different room.” The dragon described her old roommate and clutched her sides as memories of Fiona’s hugs resurfaced. “Her hugs have gotten stronger, though.”

“Seems you got your own annoying partners to deal with.”

“I’ve got too many of those.” Bagpipe. Lin. Swire. Those were the big three. And then everyone else who could be varying degrees of annoying when they wanted to tease her. Fiammetta busied herself sorting the media she wanted to send home and the media she intended to keep for herself. Ch’en wandered around the room. The clean part. She didn’t want to even look at Mostima’s side lest she pop a vein.

“Hmm? What’s this?” Ch’en picked up a doll resting on Fia’s pillow. That was uncharacteristic of her. The doll depicted some sort of armored figure holding a gatling gun.

“Wha?! Hey! Who. Mostima!” The Liberi, her cheeks as red as her hair, cursed at the top of her lungs. Enough to make Ch’en’s ears ring. The Lung quickly dropped the doll back down.

Fia sighed as she calmed down. “Sorry about that. Thought I hid it away… She must’ve popped back in when I wasn’t looking and took it out.”

“Sorry, but I have to ask now. What’s so important about this?”

The red haired woman rolled her eyes. “Look, it’s something another friend of mine, Lemuen, made. So I had to take it.”

“That’s explains it. So who is it?”

“An apostolic knight. Urgh. My nonno. My…grandpa.” She replied in an unusually bashful voice. She didn’t want to validate Patrizion’s view of their relationship, but that was unfortunately the easiest way to describe how they acted to strangers.

Ch’en nodded in realization, and sympathy. Having a plush of Wei or Uncle Kojui would’ve been weird. Maybe Aunt Fumizuki would’ve been alright, if it was a gift. But then again, she had one of Talulah, so…

“When Lemuen showed it to him, the two of them couldn’t shut up about it.” Fia sounded as angry as ever, but her words lacked the general sharpness they usually had. “I thought I left it back in Laterano, but they snuck it into my pack. Alongside so many damn snacks. It was so heavy when I left.”

Fia’s eyes widened slightly, her face taking on its trademark scowl. “Crap, that reminds me. I gotta type up a report for them later. Where did Mostima put my keyboard?” The red haired Liberi began rooting around the periphery of Mostima’s side of the room. A jacket flew in the air as she cursed. Followed by an empty duffel bag. And then some old snack boxes. “Found it. Ergh. I gotta wipe it down.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to use a laptop?” Ch’en asked as keys clicked under Fia’s wet wipe.

“The laptops they give us are too tiny, they cramp my fingers. I usually just plug in a keyboard.”

“A mechanical keyboard?” The sound of clacking keys was loud, almost like a typewriter.

“I just like how it sounds, alright?” Fia answered defensively. “It’s like I’m in a noir film whenever I sit down to write these reports.”

“I had you pegged for a movie buff. Do you ever go to those screenings the other operators hold?”

“No time. Besides, last time I tried they wanted me to be their commentator. Also, joining that little club means having to stomach Nian’s awful films.” She stopped and glanced at Ch’en in the corner of her eyes. “Then again, I would join if you did. Do you want to suffer with me?”

“Hard pass.”

“Good.” Fia began scrubbing her keyboard more aggressively, the mere thought of that dragon’s dreck pissed her off.

At this point, Ch’en decided to prod the Liberi, just to see how much of a film enthusiast she was. “So, what do you think of those new Wrankwood productions?” The Lung swore she could hear Fia scream behind clenched teeth. It was readily apparent she was trembling furiously, however.

“Don’t get me started.” Fia growled out as she continued, almost slamming her keyboard down. “First of all, I don’t care how flashy the pyrotechnics are. A bunch of pretty lights and loud noises can’t cover up shoddy technique, storylines, and acting. Oh, but this scene will make you cry, so it deserves an award. Please, that’s audience manipulation, especially when it comes from nowhere. No foreshadowing. Completely out of character. And no thematic consistency! Just bits meant to make the audience feel things without servicing the greater overarching tone or vision. And what’s with all the awful cuts?”

Ch’en let the Liberi continue ranting, Fia occasionally pointing a finger directly at the Lung’s face. Ch’en knew it wasn’t directed at her personally, and she had endured her fair share of lectures. At least this one was one born from a passionate critic rather than an offended businessman or dignitary. Fiammetta continued for a few good minutes, only stopping to take a breath every once in a while.

“Haaah.” The Liberi took a sip of water. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Just an old habit.” Ch’en shrugged. “I find that if a suspects yaps away, you should just let them.”

“Hmph. Didn’t realize I was being interrogated. If I knew, I would’ve kept my mouth shut.” Fia sniped back.

Ch’en smirked. “I’m surprised you dislike explosions that much, considering your weapons.”

“I use them because I’m good with them. Not because I enjoy them.” Fiammetta crossed her arms. “That’s like saying a cop like you should like police procedurals.”

“Fair enough.” Ch’en conceded. She didn’t like them before she left her old job. Too dramatized. Too much romanticizing of mavericks. Too black and white. And more often than not, they gave juries the wrong ideas. “So do you know how to use guns?”

The Liberi shook her head. “Any gun that’s been in my hands has the tendency to blow up. Not that there aren’t non-Sankta that know how to use ‘em, it’s just a heap of practice I can’t be bothered to do. I know how to fix them, though.”

“I recall one of the engineers talking about that at the bar. Something about you bringing in some fancy relic.”

“If you could call it that.” Fiammetta spat out. Her face contorted into hatred. This wasn’t the casual disdain she had when talking about movies. Or the doting annoyance she had when talking about her friends. This was genuine, bone chilling hatred.

It reminded Ch’en of the Reunion fighters she had encountered back then. Their fury born from irreparable pain.

The Liberi took a black box out. She unlatched the smooth metal locks, and pulled out a pistol. She waved it around irreverently in her hands, then tossed it into the air, seemingly not caring if it fell onto the ground and broke again.

“Bait?”

“I’m holding on to this for a certain scumbag, in case he comes looking for it.”

“What makes you think this person cares?”

“Sankta don’t like leaving their patron firearms, no matter what he says, I’m sure he’ll want it back sooner or later.” Fiammetta answered. Her tone was a little hesitant. Just a hair slower, as if she were trying to convince herself. If Ch’en didn’t have detective experience, she might not have caught it. “And when he does, I’ll finish things.”

Ch’en grumbled to herself as Fiammetta hands the gun over to her. It was different from the ones she was used to. More antique. Its stock was wood instead of polymer. It didn’t have that many moving parts compared to most pistols. It reminded her of the guns she saw in some historical dramas. “By finish things, what exactly do you mean?”

“I know someone like you doesn’t exactly like the idea of extrajudicial punishment –“

“Don’t write me off like that.” Ch’en interrupted as she handed the weapon back. “Traveling the world with Rhodes Island has made me realize just how short most justice systems fall from where they should be.”

“Then you shouldn’t have any problems with what I intend to do.” The redhead slammed the gun case shut and chucked it into her travel pack. Her annoyance at hearing people constantly try to assuage her mixed with with her hatred for her old comrade. “After all, if you’ve were betrayed by someone close, seen them ruin lives, only to keep moving on without a single shred of guilt or hesitation –“

“I have.”

“H-huh?”

“My sister.” Ch’en reminded her.

This stopped Fia dead in her tracks.

“She was Reunion’s leader.” Ch’en added. She paused, letting the information sink in.

The two stared at each other, not saying a word.

“Even Rhodes Island, the people most sympathetic to the infected’s plight, harbors anger towards her. Rightfully so, given how much pain she’s given them. How many of their own she and her group have killed or hurt. Back when she was in the holding cells, guards had to be posted to keep the operators from going inside.”

Ch’en sighed as the countless memories of that conflict flashed in her mind. The deserted slums. The ruined streets. The funerals and mourning that followed.

A thief, a conman. Those were easy to judge and sentence. Their problems so quaint to address in comparison.

But Talulah and Reunion, she didn’t know where to start. Were people right to curse and spit on the infected as they were cremated en masse? Were the infected that fled Lungmen right to not shed a single tear for the Lungmenites that lost their lives? Their homes?

“Ursus will not judge her fairly. Lungmen will not judge her fairly. Even I, as her sister, cannot judge her fairly. And the only one that can, Amiya, doesn’t judge her at all.”

“Hopefully you realized by now that I don’t care much for justice. What I want is revenge.” Fiammetta said coldly.

“I’m well aware. Ours isn’t a question of should. We both have the right to exact judgment. The problem is capability.” Ch’en weathered the Liberi’s fury with nary a care. She knew now that all the principles or morals or personal feelings in the world couldn’t guide her. Not alone. “My advice would be to get the full picture. Only then will things truly be settled.”

“Not like he’s the talkative type. And when he is, he makes doomsayers sound sane.”

“You don’t have to hear it from him, there are other ways of getting the truth. And that’s what matters. I can’t judge Talulah as I am now. I don’t know everything. I don’t know the plight her followers suffered. Not truly. I can read and listen all I want, but until I witness it with my own eyes, I cannot judge her.”

“Sounds like a you problem.” Fia scoffed. “I’m not as idealistic. Quite frankly, I’m fine coasting my way through life on gut feeling alone. Once I make a decision, I commit.”

“Then what’s the harm in finding the truth if it won’t change your mind? The more you understand a person, the easier it is to track them down. Scared it’ll make you hesitate?” Ch’en taunted. The Liberi ground her teeth, but couldn’t retort. The last thing she wanted was to end up like her two friends, who seemingly had no problems with what happened to them. She had to be resolute in this matter. For them.

“So, if we happen to meet him, what would you do?” Fia asked, trying to dodge Ch’en’s question.

“I’d at least neutralize him, given he’s your enemy.” The Lung stated bluntly.

“After that lecture?”

Ch’en continued unfazed. “But if you intended to kill him, I’d stop you. Rhodes Island does not know about your situation in depth. I don’t know. Therefore, we have no way of knowing whether execution is necessary outside of your word. The accused are allowed a chance to defend themselves. Verbally or otherwise.”

“Still by the book, huh?”

“Perhaps more so than most police officers.” Ch’en bitterly noted.

“Alright.” Fia crossed her arms. “So if you lot end up finding out he’s the worst of the worst, what then?”

“If he’s unrepentant, I swear I’ll personally unsheath Chi Xiao on him. But only once I fully comprehend the situation. Only then will I have the right to pass judgment.”

The Liberi sighed. At least she understood Ch’en’s reasoning better than Mostima and Lemuen. Even if she still disagreed emotionally, she couldn’t fault the Lung for sticking to her guns.

“Let’s go to the range.” Fia muttered. She got the feeling neither of them were going to budge on this issue. Both of them were way too stubborn, but that wasn’t a bad thing. At least there was more progress butting heads with Ch’en than talking Mostima out of her wild ideas. “I need to vent some stress after that conversation.”

“A competition’s your way of relaxing? Alright. Just don’t get mad if I end up with a better score than you.” The Lung challenged back.

---

The Doctor finished reading the report Ch’en had sent him regarding her time with Fiammetta. He sighed. Even for a leisure program, the woman insisted on writing a detailed reflection. And it was far too much information. Chronological updates of their activities. A summary of their overall conversations. An itemized list of amenities and curios they discussed. Along with her own personal reflection and her impression of Fiammetta.

“People are saying the two of them are constantly arguing with each other in the halls now.” Amiya worriedly reported. “Um, should we intervene?”

The Doctor shook his head and smiled. “I eavesdropped on some of their conversations, they’re getting along great.”

“H-huh?”

“You know how headstrong both of them are. It’s impossible for most people to dislodge them from their positions on anything. The fact that they occasionally concede to each other is a testament to how well they gel. Besides, what do they usually discuss?”

“Um. I heard people say they talk about movies. The news. Occasionally shooting techniques. Oh, and they usually vent about their friends and family to each other. When they aren’t sticking up for them, I think.”

“See, nothing to worry about!” The Doctor gave a thumbs-up. “Friendships come in all shapes and forms. Sometimes, it’s indistinguishable from animosity at a glance. You just have to ignore what they’re saying and focus on their feelings instead.”

“Got it. I’ll make sure to do that the next time I see the two of them, Doctor.”

---

Mostima giggled as her partner fumed. “Well, it’s about time we get going. Isn’t that right, Flying General?”

“Grah! Lacerta foetida!” The Liberi cussed out, much to the confusion of their colleagues in the hanger. It was so loud even the roar of the VTOL’s engines couldn’t drown it out. “Next time I see her, I’m killing her!”

“If you hate it that much, I’m sure Rhodes Island is far more accommodating than our usual boss.”

Fia shrugged. “Eh, screw it. It’s more of a hassle to file a complaint and fix it than just bearing with it and moving on.” Mostima wondered whether that would be the breakthrough the Liberi needed to finally understand her. But she wouldn’t hold out hope.

“Just don’t mistake me for her. We’ve got the same hair after all.” The Sankta stuck out her tongue as she bunched her blue hair into pigtails like Ch’en. Deep down, she was happy that Fia had finally opened up to others. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t tease the redhead. “If you want, I can pretend to be your new friend.”

“Yeah right. You ain’t serious enough for that.”

“Maybe. Lemuen’s gonna be fired up.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

The Sankta smiled blissfully. “Someone else gave you a codename. You know for a fact that she’s gonna give you one that’s real creative next time we see her.”

“Merda! Culo me futue!” She continued to curse as the pilot became increasingly confused at the stream of shouting in a language they couldn’t understand. Mostima did not make any attempts to clarify. Instead, she merely enjoyed the show.

---

A messenger bowed then handed a sealed package to Lady Fumizuki. Inside the package was a box of Lateran chocolates, along with two letters. One written in neat Lateran script, the second a translation in Yanese.

Lady Fumizuki

I must thank you for your recommendations of Lungmen cinema. I refuse to believe that such spectacular films are panned by critics. They have explosions, bombastic soundtracks, and the actors have such presence and gravitas. Are the critics all sensitive-eared infants incapable of handling even the slightest loud noise? Who cringe at the slightest bit of dramatic acting?

I digress. Regrettably, I have to watch them from my own living room. I cannot go to theaters myself, given my duties as an Apostolic Knight. And quite frankly, this old body of mine struggles to make it out the door some days. I am quite thankful I have such a diligent granddaughter to do so on my behalf. When she and her partner visit your city again, I ask that you give them a warm welcome. While Laterano will always be their home, they have grown to love the world outside as well. I hope that at least some will be willing to reciprocate that love.

Regarding your niece’s request for commercial cooperation between our two cities, I am afraid I do not possess such authority. I have forwarded the request to the Curia, although those old bags are even more long-winded than me. I spoke to her over the radio recently when she was in a messenger station near Laterano’s border. She struck me as a very well mannered and dutiful young woman. I would love to meet her, you, and your husband in person one day. Perhaps we’ll swap stories then about little Fia and Ch’en when they were kids.

Gun Knight Patrizion

When Fumizuki first heard that little Ch’en had somehow managed to make contact with the Apostolic Knights, she couldn’t believe it. Neither could Wei Yenwu. Lungmen had been trying to establish business relations with Laterano for ages through every channel. The Notarial Hall. The Legati. Messengers. Through the Sankta migrants that visited the city. Everything, and to no avail. And then her niece makes friends with a Gun Knight’s granddaughter and suddenly the gates had the potential to be open again.

She smiled proudly to herself. Even while she was outside, little Ch’en didn’t forget about Lungmen . Perhaps she should get Shirayuki to deliver some extra snacks as a reward.

Chapter Text

“Don’t worry, Miss Reed.” April laughed gently as the Draco in question frantically set a pot upright again, using her hands to scoop the dirt back inside while her fiery tail swished behind her. “I didn’t set my room up thinking about people with long tails. Hehe. Guess I oughta rearrange things again.”

“How do you have so much stuff to begin with?” Aciddrop asked. The Cautus’ room was far more decorated than average. So much extra furniture, like a couch, a beanbag, a massive widescreen TV, a full length freestanding mirror, flower pots. And that was just the stuff that took up space. Her walls were decorated with posters depicting movies, bands, and other things. Despite all this, the room didn’t feel crowded in the slightest, even with three people inside. “And how do you manage to make so much space?”

“Trade secret.” April winked and stuck her tongue out. Her current room was massive compared to what she had in Rim Billiton, which the folks here would probably consider a walk-in closet at best. Learning to leave open space was something she learned back then, perfect for stretching or just laying on the ground. And hers was just a standard room. She heard that senior operators got even bigger rooms with a separate bathroom. She’d have to work extra hard to get to that stage.

“All of this…How much?” Reed asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her hands stained brown with dirt.

“Ehe. A few extra shifts for Rhodes Island every now and again.” April answered nonchalantly. “But they pay way more than Billie companies, and the bosses are nicer, so I don’t mind as much.”

“Do you miss your homeland?” Reed asked as she washed her hands. When she was done, she immediately looked for a broom to sweep up whatever dirt she missed, at least until Aciddrop stopped her.

“I can do that.” The Liberi offered.

April giggled at the scene before answering Reed’s question. “Kinda, but not really. I miss my friends. I miss some of the views I used to see. But I certainly don’t miss all the noises and smells. And I don’t miss a lot of my neighbors.”

“Oh? You had annoying neighbors too?” Aciddrop asked as she swept the floors.

“It got worse when I got infected, but they weren’t that friendly to me to begin with. How about you?”

The Columbian skater shrugged. “Some of the adults would rattle off a scolding at the drop of a hat. Then again, most kids in town were up to no good. Myself included. Not a lot to do, so we made our own fun. And trouble.”

The two look at Reed, expecting a similar answer. She ran a hand through her hair. “Oh. Um.” She stammered as she tried to sort through what she should omit, the fire in her chest burning slightly brighter as a result.

“Woah. So, does that act like an LED or something?” Aciddrop asked innocuously. This stopped Reed’s thoughts dead in their tracks.

April put her hand next to it, causing Reed to jump a little. “It’s real warm. I bet you don’t need to use a space heater when it gets cold.”

“Perhaps…But the flames are a bit much at times.” The Draco had gotten better at controlling her powers in her time here, and the lack of use compared to her time in Victoria let her body calm down naturally. But she was still afraid of touching others, lest her flames grow out of control again.

“Yeah, that must suck during the summer.” April remarked.

“Nothing a cold soda can’t fix. Or some light clothing.”

“Absolutely. Say, now that we’re here, I actually have an outfit I want someone’s opinions on.” April opened her closet as shifted hanger after hanging, the metal lightly scraping as she hummed. She had tons of outfits, all with different styles, but they all had a common element. They were all bright, cheery.

She took out a simple dress with pastel highlights and trims. “So, what do you think?”

Aciddrop tilted her head. “Looks a bit plain. Thought you’d be a bit more loud.”

April laughed nervously, a small crack in her usual chipper attitude appeared as she wrung the fabric a little. “Well, it’s backless. And I’ve got lesions back there so I’ve been avoiding wearing anything like this.”

The Draco shot a sympathetic look April’s way. Getting clothes that could accommodate her tail, and the pulsing flare stuck on her chest, was hard. She could probably ask one of the many fashion experts on board, but she didn’t want to trouble them. There were probably people far more deserving than her.

“I wanted to start with something simple. I mean, I see so many infected walk around without having to worry about covering themselves up. It’s got me fired up, you know.” The Cautus regained her usual demeanor. “Plus, this redheaded Vouivre girl I chatted with gave me a bunch of tips on how to incorporate the crystals into my look.”

“If that’s the case, then go for it.” Aciddrop gave her a thumbs up. “We can post it on the company network later, see how many likes you can get.”

“No way!” April stuck her tongue out. “Not something like this. Gotta be way more coordinated. This is just a prototype to work up my courage. You don’t show off the first tries of whatever skateboard tricks you do, right?”

The Liberi chuckled. “I do. They sometimes get more likes than when I do it flawlessly. I’m pissed, but I understand why. Some of my faceplants are pretty funny.”

Reed played with her own fingers as the two girls chatted happily to each other. She wasn’t used to holding conversations like this. Even now, people have to reach out and get permission to interact with her. But even those conversations were often terse and all business. She signed up on recommendation from the therapists here, but she couldn’t find an opportunity to interject into Aciddrop’s and April’s conversation at all.

“So what do you think Miss Reed?” April asked.

Reed’s eye widened. She didn’t hear the question at all.

“Lost in your own world, huh?” Aciddrop teased. The Liberi was like that sometimes too. When she’s zooming by on a skateboard, there’s not a care in her heart.

“Apologies.”

“It’s fine.” April flashed a toothy grin. “Say, do you like listening to music, Miss Reed?”

“Um. I do like listening to ballads.” April seemed to have dropped the question entirely. Or perhaps something else caught her interest. “…But, I’m sure that’s nothing interesting.”

“Sick.” Aciddrop chimed in. “I like rap. Somedays you just gotta drop a freestyle verse ‘cause you saw something cool or because you ran across a jerk that wouldn’t leave you alone. Get back at them on a record, watch it blow up and become the talk of the town.”

“Yes.” Reed smiled gently. She should have clarified that it was poetry she liked, rather than song. But the two are closely tied to begin with. “There are times when I feel the best response is to compose a verse. They have quite the power, do they not?”

“Hmm? You’re the type to be moved to tears by a sad song, Miss Reed?” April asked.

“Sometimes. My own kin have a tradition of song. We believe they help immortalize the past, for good and ill. One of the worst punishments is to be the subject of a mocking ballad.”

“Heh. I can see that.” Aciddrop nodded. “Plenty of hits out there are just diss tracks. Getting punched in the face is bad. But being everyone’s laughing stock is worse in its own way. Plenty refused to show their face after that. No one takes them seriously anymore.”

Reed let out a sigh of relief. She couldn’t keep up with the trends among the youth. Part of that was her upbringing, she could imagine many like her would be equally clueless. But it seemed like the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. That made her curious.

“May I have some songs to listen to later?” Reed asked.

“Sure, no problem. I know some up-and-coming artists here that keep offloading their mixtapes onto me. You can have those.” Aciddrop suggested.

“Um, maybe we should give Miss Reed some good music first.” April suggested. “It’d be bad if you turned her off some genres forever because you gave her crap. Oh! I know. I have something I want to give you.”

The Cautus skipped over to a boombox on her desk.

“Let’s see…Do I still have the CD?” She traced her finger down a tower of cases. “Ah! Here it is!”

Reed took the plastic case in her hand. A CD held inside it depicting lilac flowers on its cover. And the name April on the cover. Reed looked at one of the flower pots in April’s room that was a carbon copy of the one on the CD.

“This is…” Reed bent down to take a closer look at the flower.

“Pink rock orchid. It’s real pretty, right?” The Cautus smiled. “I always like going to a rooftop and listening to this song when I’m in a funk. That’s why I chose it as my codename.”

“That’s an oddly normal name.” Aciddrop commented before chuckling. “I knew Kroos was messing with me when she said Rim Billiton had flowers called ‘Roo Paws.”

“Oh, those exist.” April winked. “Along with lillipillies and billy buttons.”

Aciddrop and Reed looked at each other, unsure if April was messing with them or not. April pulled a picture taped near her bed off. A rooftop garden lined with pots overlooking smokestacks and mining shafts.

“See, these are the lillipillies. And these are the billy buttons.” She pointed to various flowers in frame. “I’m glad that messenger managed to get such a good photo, I should get them a gift later as thanks.”

Aciddrop and Reed stared at the photo for a little bit longer, trying to internalize the information they just received. Until Reed coughed.

“Very well. Every culture has their own naming convention. I shouldn’t be one to judge.”

“Right. It’s weird to me, but it isn’t weird for them.” Aciddrop concurred. “Speaking of weird, how about we go on over to my pad. All the renovations I made make it look wild compared to the average dorm room.”

---

Reed experimentally placed on foot onto a plain black skateboard. She pushed her foot back and forth, feeling her weight shift as the board underneath her rolls.

“You can stand on it if you want.” Aciddrop offered.

“Thank you. But, I’ve never done something like this before.”

“It’s not that bad. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

Reed placed her other foot onto the board, using her tail to anchor herself to the ground.

“Lift up your tail.”

She complied. For a brief moment, Reed balanced herself even as her legs wobbled. A momentary lapse, an unequal shift in weight caused the board to shoot forward and slam into the graffiti-covered wall. Reed fell backwards, her tail bearing her weight, at least until she fell into Aciddrop’s arms.

“S-sorry.” Reed bashfully mutters as she sits down on a floor cushion.

“No problem. You probably could’ve recovered without me.” Aciddrop smirked. “Wasn’t the worst first time I’ve ever seen.”

“What was the worst?” April asked. She stood on another board herself, teetering it side to side without a care, the wheels clacking softly as she does so.

“Once had a kid panic and start flailin’ their legs around. Their parents really weren’t happy when they ate linoleum.”

“But it must be super fun when you get it, right?” April asked.

Aciddrop nodded as she kicked a board up, caught it in her hands, and twirled it under her arm in a single motion. “Hell yeah. You get enough speed or air time, and it feels like you’re on top of the world. Just wish we had a dedicated space for it.”

“The training rooms would be well suited.” Reed suggested.

“Yeah, but Dobermann got on our case when we used it last time. Even when it was empty.”

“How about the deck? Plenty of ways to set things up.” April suggested. Aciddrop shook her head.

“Nah. It’s all fun and games until someone goes up too high and falls overboard.” She said in a rare moment of seriousness. “I’ll stick to the hallways for now. ‘Sides, outrunning the people trying to stop me is fun in its own way. Really takes me back.”

Aciddrop took an old hand crossbow out of her desk and twirled it around her index finger. “This one cop used to chase after me back home. Always gave me one helluva scolding if I got caught. Told me to stop causing trouble.”

“So did it ever stick?” April asked teasingly.

“Pffft. Yeah right. I just got better at slipping away. Still, he wasn’t a bad guy. He made this for me so I could protect myself from the gangs in the neighborhood. And he had a daughter around my age. They’re the ones that taught me my skills.”

“Your home…Sounds dangerous.” Reed commented. Aciddrop shrugged.

“Only if you were looking for trouble. Which I did. Nothing better to do, and I didn’t want to stick around in an empty home every day after school.”

“An empty home?” Reed asked.

“My ma and pa are truckers. Always away on business. Don’t hate them. They kept the lights on and gave me an allowance. They even videotaped my tricks whenever they were around. And offered to help pay for my treatment. But when kids got no one to keep an eye on them, they’ll get up to trouble eventually.”

“I get that.” April concurred. “I lost my parents when I was young, so I survived off of the stipend their company paid me. The workers there were the ones that raised me. But I sure did get on their nerves when I was younger.”

The two extroverts chatted happily with each other again, comparing their respective childhoods as Reed listened passively.

“You’re both so strong.” Reed muttered. She knew what an empty home felt like as well. Stories like theirs weren’t uncommon among her own people. Workers that gave their lives to a factory in exchange for scraps. Or went away to other cities hoping to find better employment and left their children behind. Even her upbringing, slightly better than that, was desolate.

“Really? I mean, I ain’t like the elite operators. Nowhere close.” Aciddrop said. “Unless April here has some secret powers.”

“I wish. I’d make so much money if I did.”

“No, I meant your spirit. To endure so much, and still find the will to smile.” Reed bit her tongue. She withheld how she wished that sort of enthusiasm was infectious. That courage.

“I get it, Miss Reed.” April chimed in. “Back in Rim Billiton, people always used to ask me why I kept wearing bright clothes if I was infected. Or kept up with the latest trends. Like we’re supposed to be miserable all the time.”

“Like hell I’d take that.” Aciddrop added. “I ain’t one to let a little originium dust change me. I’m still me. You’re still you. ‘Sides. If we’re sick, that’s all the more reason to do things that make us happy, right?”

“Yes.” Reed brightened up a little. Perhaps, in a world seemingly designed to make one miserable at every turn, daring to seek joy is an act of defiance, however small.

“Hey. You two want some custom boards?” Aciddrop asked as she took out a sketch pad.

“You don’t have to. I have no way to repay you.” Reed protested.

“You two are cool chicks. Plus we’re friends now, yeah? That’s all that matters. And the more skaters we have, the easier it’ll be to talk the bosses into giving us a space.”

“You’re gonna teach us, right?” April asked.

“Of course. If I can teach a bunch of kids, you two will be a breeze. Reed’s tail gives me ideas for a bunch of new tricks that I can’t do as well.” Reed scratched her cheek as Aciddrop began sketching out a few draft designs.

“How ‘bout this?” Aciddrop showed the sketch to Reed. A coil of interlocked vines on the edges with flowers growing off. The petals slowly transformed into flames at their tips.

“That’s super cute.” April chimed in. “Thought you’d go for more flames.”

“Nah. That doesn’t fit Reed’s personality at all. She’s the gentle, quiet type.”

The Draco in question looked askance and blushed faintly. She was used to being called aloof, by so many throughout her life. But gentle was a new one.

“Hmm…If I included a dragon on this, what should I do to make it look cute?”

“How about you make it take a nap? Sleeping pets are always adorable.”

Reed interrupted them. “Is it difficult to make these designs?”

Aciddrop shrugged. “The hard part’s making the stencils. Once I’m done with that, it’s easypeasy. Let’s see,” she looked at her design again, “maybe I’ll spray on the vines first, then the flowers. Oh, but if I want different colors, I’ll have to do them separately. Then use a brush to do the fine details. Yeah, that’ll work.”

“Ehe. You sound like you’re really into this, like you’re gonna just start this all now.” April joked. “So what’s mine gonna be?”

Aciddrop muttered to herself as she began sketching another design. After a few minutes, she presented her work to April. In stark contrast to the design she intended for Reed, this new one was more abstract. Solid lines labeled different colors that intersected with each other. Shading that made it look like there was a three-dimensional pyramid in the center of the board.

“Yo, if you do some tricks with this board, it’ll make some cool optical illusions.” Aciddrop smiled proudly to herself. “Assuming you’re good enough that is.”

“Well, what do you think Miss Reed?” April asked.

Reed studied the sketch closely, mesmerized by it. They were both so different. “What made you decide what suited each of us?”

“Vibes.” Aciddrop answered. She nodded sagely to herself, as if that answer was the most profound statement in the world. “Whenever I do tags or tricks, there are peeps that look and gush at the tech. And yeah, it’s cool. But if you really want to reach someone, you gotta talk to their heart. No matter your medium.”

“I getcha.” April smiled nostalgically. “I had a couple friends that wanted to be a band. They were new, so they still kinda sucked. But when they played, people in the audience couldn’t help but root for them, you know? Like, they’re trying their best and singin’ from the heart, so who cares if they miss a note or come in late?”

“You’re quiet, but I can tell you’re a real softy. Wouldn’t hurt a fly if you could avoid it. You might give the fly some food so it doesn’t feel sad about being chased away.” Aciddrop said to Reed. The Draco blushed again, her chest radiating brighter. “And April over here’s bouncing off the walls, always looking for something new. At least those are the vibes I get from each of ya. If I’m wrong, just chime in. No sense making something if it clashes with your style.”

“You’re spot on, don’t sell yourself short.” Reed smiled gently.

“Great! I’ll find an empty workshop later and make them for you two. Until then, either of you thirsty? Hungry?”

“Now that you mentioned it, a little.” April replied. Reed’s stomach growled, she tried to cover it with her hand.

Aciddrop opened a minifridge and tossed two cans of soda to her friends. And then unwrapped a plate of cold pizza. “There you go, a little pick-me-up.”

“This is a bit much for a snack isn’t it?” April took a slice. “What’s a full meal for you?”

“It’s gotta be a hamburger and donut combo, I’d say. That fills you up real good.”

“Hamburgers…And donuts…” Reed muttered as she sipped the sugary cola. She bit back a small burp. That sounded quite filling, perhaps a bit too much. But having too much is better than having too little at least. “Perhaps you can add a salad to that as well.”

“Huh? There’s lettuce and onions in the burger. That’s good enough, right?”

Reed shot her a worried look. Aciddrop rolled her eyes.

“The old cop used to nag at me to eat healthier too. Tch. Only way he got me to eat any greens was to bribe me with his homemade onion rings. Man, I miss those. I keep trying to get the chefs to make them, or make it myself, but it’s never the same.”

Reed made a note to herself. She should stop by the kitchen later. Without an actual recipe, she couldn’t replicate it, but she could try to make something new. Perhaps she could follow Aciddrop’s advice. Follow the “vibes,” so to speak. But that would be for a project for later.

---

Reed fidgeted again as she ushered her two companions into her room. Compared to the vibrant character April and Aciddrop had shown off, hers was rather plain by comparison. It didn’t look that much different from a normal Rhodes Island dorm room. There wouldn’t be much to discuss here, she was sure of it.

“Wow…You have your own bathroom?” April trotted off to inspect the other room. “Heehee. I wonder how you take care of your tail.”

“I…just keep it clean.” April picked up a brush resting on the sink, the bristles softer than expected. Her cosmetics were…functional. They kept her tidy, but that was about it.

Aciddrop flipped through a book, scanning the lines.

“Do you know how to read it?” Reed asked incredulously. The Liberi shook her head.

“I recognize some of the letters, but none of the words.” She tried to sound out the words she saw phonetically. At least based on the letters on the page.

“That’s…not quite right.” Reed smiled wryly. She recited the same line Aciddrop tried to read with the correct pronunciations, Aciddrop looked at her skeptically.

“That doesn’t sound like what’s on the page at all.” She passed the book to April. “Hey Reed, say the line again. April, see if it makes sense.”

Reed repeated the line. April scrunched her face as she stared at the letters in the book.

“The transliteration of Taran is a bit…difficult at first glance. Classical Taran is also quite tricky with how many silent letters there are. I can certainly teach it to you if you wish.”

April and Aciddrop shared a look. “Sorry, but…” Aciddrop began.

“Ehehe. I don’t think either of us are the studious type.” April winked.

Reed frowned for a moment. They had been so willing to share themselves to her, she wanted to at least return the favor. But what could she do? Up until recently, she was content being an empty vessel that her people imposed their own wishes unto. All she could teach was her heritage. But so much of she liked was tied to language. Which was difficult to pick up in a single afternoon. Even she struggled learning some of the other languages spoken aboard the landship.

“This Taran, they got any good foods?” April asked.

“How ‘bout songs? There’s gotta be some good beats.”

This brightened the Draco up. Right. Language wasn’t the only thing she could share. Food was universal. And for songs? Even those that didn’t know the lyrics could still appreciate the sound. “There is a certain stew I know how to make. Woolbeast meat, vegetables, onions, parsley, and carrots. It’s quite enjoyable, but I’m unsure if we have the appropriate ingredients.”

“That’s sounds delicious.” Aciddrop licked her lips, apparently her stomach was not full even after the pizza and soda she had earlier. “Next time you make it, invite us. Now, about those tunes.”

“U-um…” Reed looked aside again. “We don’t have much in the way of records.” She said evasively. Not only that, the Victorians also generally didn’t care to publish or outright censored Taran songs, meaning the few records that did exist were a black market item.

“Stage fright?” April asked. The Draco nodded, that was a good enough excuse. She didn’t want to burden her new friends with her own struggles. “That’s fine. We did put you on the spot. If you wanna practice before you perform, go ahead. But I can tell it’s super important to you, so we’ll wait however long it takes.”

“I bet it’s super cool.” Aciddrop smiled. “Maybe we can record it. I know a few music groups that would love listening to something new.”

“Ah.” Reed felt a warmth in her heart at those words. Her eyes started to sting a little, but she managed to keep herself together. “T-thank you, you two. You truly are exceptional.”

“If you say so.” Aciddrop shrugged. She still didn’t get why Reed thought they were that cool. Yeah, she was something of a local legend back home. A few murals and tricks of hers went viral, but they never attached a name to the girl that did such things. Ask on Columbia’s social media about her and most people would just be confused.

“Hmm…This place got me thinking,” April began, “would you mind if I spruce it up a little?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I get you’re kinda reserved, so I didn’t want to overstep myself, but a room’s an expression of yourself. I have a few spare flower pots, so I don’t mind if you take some.”

“I…” Reed thought to herself. The room did look a little sterile. Perhaps stepping out of the shadows called for making this place a sanctuary for herself. Yes, she could go to the Convalescence Garden. Pick up some lilies, maybe some white clover. “That would be lovely.”

“It’s settled then.” April beamed. “Let’s see…what else should we get.”

“A bigger bed would be nice.” Reed chimed in. The three of them looked at her current one. It was the standard Rhodes Island dorm bed. With standard sheets and covers and a standard pillow. The only nonstandard thing was a vaguely reptilian plushy resting in the corner. “My tail and horns get in the way with the current one.”

“Never thought about it, but how do you sleep?” Aciddrop asked as she looked at Reed’s tail. Rhodes Island ergonomics were more accommodating than most places, but there were still outliers. People with overly large tails or horns still struggled to use most of the furniture, so custom orders were popular workshop requests.

“Face down.” Reed sheepishly admitted. “Or standing up…If I have to.”

“That blows.” April said. “How about you sit upright? We move the bed a little bit away from the wall so your tail can have space. Yeah, then we install some cushions on the wall to rest your head.”

“That is certainly another way.” Reed would take it. Finding a comfortable sleeping position was hard enough, she’ll try anything at this point. “Another desk would be nice as well.”

“One of the messy stuff, the other for everything else, right?” Aciddrop asked.

Reed nodded. Right now, the one desk she had was used for writing, reading, weapon maintenance, eating, and anything else she had to do. She would like a dedicated workbench for her weapon, and then another for her literature.

“Where do you think I should put my other table, April? I intend to use it for weapon maintenance.”

“Hmm…Maybe by the window? That way you can see the gleam when you’re done.”

Reed took out her spear and maintenance kit. The one Rhodes Island had given her. Both had been meticulously cared for, not a single dent or scratch on anything. Inside the kit, the felt was still pristine, she made sure to never drop any oils or fluids onto it.

“That’s one fancy weapon.” The Liberi marveled at the massive spear, reflections danced around the room, and the pulsing flame on Reed’s chest seemed to grow brighter as she grasped the hilt. “Does that make you a queen or something?”

“No. That’s more a Victorian legend. And it was a sword. Although, anthropologists believe that…never mind. The popular myth is Victorian. This is simply a gift from someone I knew.” In the past, she had held it reluctantly. Simply accepting that it was her duty to wield it.

For the longest time here, she refused to look at it, burying it deep within her closet. As if she could live as a simple patient, even for a transient moment. But Rhodes Island’s battles were many, and she was in a position to lend them her aid.

“I’ve seen you use these gloves before.” April remarked as she pointed to the gloves resting in the open maintenance kit. “Does it get hot when you fight?”

“Yes.” She dodged the question about what her flames actually are. Most people unversed in Arts struggled to conceptualize it. Even scholars didn’t really understand it at times. So for her two friends, calling her Arts fire was good enough.

“So, if I wear them, that means I can use the spear, right?” April asked casually.

“You would not need them. This weapon holds no significance if you are not a Draco. It is a simple spear to everyone else.” Reed took a deep breath, letting her flames cool down. She let go of the weapon, realizing that she was subconsciously casting her Arts. “And I’m trying to find a new use for it.”

“What’s that?” Aciddrop asked.

“I am hoping to mend wounds with it.”

“What? Like cauterizing them?” April tilted her head to the side, her bunny ears flopping as she does so.

“In a way…But it’s not harmful. It wouldn’t be that much different from the healing Arts other medics use. Perhaps, if either of you get a scrape or a cut, I can show you.”

“Deal. Next time I fall off my board, I’ll come straight to you.” Aciddrop joked.

“Of course.” Reed laughed gently to herself. The sensation she felt somehow both cooled her fire and warmed her heart. How long had it been since she felt like this? Receiving that gift from the Doctor was probably the last time.

She was used to rationing these moments of joy, bracing herself for the long periods of hardship in between. But she found those periods grew shorter and shorter as she stayed here.

---

“How’d you get this dinged up? You weren’t even assigned any combat ops.” Gavial asked as she pressed wet cotton onto Reed’s knee. Aside from the Doctor and Kal’tsit, the Archosaur was one of the few medics entrusted to take care of Reed. A little heat didn’t do anything to Gavial, but all the other doctors panicked.

Reed stayed silent as Gavial continued mending her scrapes and bruises. She didn’t want to tell the doctor that she had taken a few bad falls while Aciddrop taught her. And so she didn’t say anything, although the nervous swishing of her tail give Gavial all the tells she needed.

Speaking of tails, Gavial eyed the Draco’s fiery tail and raised an eyebrow.

“Reed. Your tail. It’s gotten fatter.” Gavial said bluntly.

“H-huh?” Reed blushed as she grabbed her tail and looked at it again. It didn’t look that different from normal. Gavial took out a tape measure and wrapped it near the base.

“It’s 1.5 centimeters thicker.”

“But I haven’t gained that much weight…” Reed protested. At least, she thought she didn’t. Her clothes felt normal. And her weight fluctuated around the same ranges as usual.

“Probably because it all went to your tail. Like that little brat.” Gavial laughed boisterously. “Have you been eating more junk food recently?”

“No. I mean…” Reed looked aside. “There was some leftover pizza April had. And then some children baked cookies and wanted to give them to me. And I was experimenting with cooking earlier this week. Oh.”

“Hey, it ain’t none of my business. So long as you know.” Gavial flashed a toothy grin. “You’ve been more active lately, so it ain’t a big deal. Just keep moving your body and you’ll be fine.”

“Of course. Thank you.” Reed bowed her head and briskly walked out of the room.

When the Draco was well out of earshot, Gavial chuckled to herself as she took out a styrofoam container she had swiped from the kitchen. She popped it open and dropped an onion ring into her mouth.

“Heh. Don’t blame her. These are damn good. Wonder how many batches she had to make to come up with this?” She said as she munched on them idly as she filled in her report. They had become something of a fad, to the point that the cafeteria had to make them first come, first serve. There were even backroom dealings over who gets them, if certain posts online were anything to go by.

---

A Logistics worker hauled a cart into Engineering, where it’s soon filled with parts of wood and metal. They would have to take this to the other side of the ship, up a lift, and then assemble it. But that can wait until after a break. They slump down on a nearby chair, embracing the feeling of relief in their legs.

“Haah. Real busy day today.” Someone had taken to posting interior design tips on the company net. This naturally resulted in people wanting a bunch of new furniture. Enough that there was a backlog in both Engineering to make things and Logistics to actually haul and assemble things.

The worker flips through their phone, looking for new music recommendations to fill their time.

Beeswax: I posted some new songs I’ve been listening to recently. What do you think?

Vigna: Huh? Usually you like posting experimental stuff. These seem a little too traditional by your tastes.

Beeswax: I listen to whatever I like listening to. Sometimes it’s something new. Other times it’s songs I think sound good.

Frostleaf: Going for a spring theme for this? Didn’t expect you to like pop.

Noir Corne: Huh. And traditional folk music too?

Beeswax: Aciddrop shared a link for everyone to listen to. The singer has a nice voice.

Saileach: Now that I think about it, it sounds familiar for some reason.

That made the worker curious. They download the songs and begin listening to them. They were simpler than expected. No instruments at all, just a recording of a woman singing. Granted, the woman had an entrancing voice, even if they couldn’t understand any of the words. Their tastes were more on the modern side, but this was nice in its own way.

They continue listening as they make their deliveries. In the dorms, they stopped by one of the better rooms and were greeted by a Cautus and a… Vouivre? The Vouivre sounded familiar for some reason. They didn’t pay much attention, they still had plenty of work to do before the day ended.

---

Chapter Text

The Doctor screamed as he lunged to one side of the couch. He repeated the same scream as he lunged to the opposite side.

“Oi! Doctor! Don’t break my headset.” Flametail joked as she watched the man flail around with a VR headset attached to his face. “And it’s not like all those fancy moves actually help.”

The two operators watched the Doctor’s character get whaled on by enemies despite his wild movements. All it really accomplished was making the two of them sick whenever they looked at the TV screen.

The Doctor let out a wail of anguish as red blood splatters filled his vision. His score was comfortably below both Flametail’s and Swire’s by a large margin.

“Don’t worry, you still beat me in chess every time.” Swire leaned down and tried to comfort the Doctor.

The commander of Rhodes Island peeled the headset off his sweat-covered head. He blinked a few times as he got accustomed to the real world again.

“Do you like chess, Sona?” Swire asked while waiting for the Doctor to recover from his daze.

Flametail shook her head. “I kinda prefer party games. You know, ones you can play with lots of people.” Mainly because she wanted something all the Pinus Sylvestris knights could enjoy. But Ashley did teach her the rules. Shockingly, Iwona was the best chess player out of all of them.

“That was definitely not my game.” The Doctor grimaced as a wave of nausea rolled over him. “Do you have any that we can just, you know, sit down and play?”

“Oh, plenty. Want some you can download on your phone, too?” Flametail replied. The Zalak began rattling off some recommendations to the Doctor. Genre. Overall difficulty. Her opinion on the mechanics and presentation. He listened intently, even though he knew he would have no time to actually enjoy any of them.

“So yeah. Some people prefer its sequels, but I never really saw the appeal. The devs got worse at fine tuning the difficulty in the later titles.” She rattled off. “Like, I get that they made the sequels assuming you beat the previous games, but some of the later fights just get super unfair. Or make certain mechanics worthless after they spend the whole series drilling habits into your head.”

“Ever thought about starting a review blog?” Swire suggested. Hoshiguma liked games too, but the tigress could never get more than an “it was fun” or “I got bored and stopped playing it” from the Oni.

“I post on the gaming discussions every now and again, but I’d say I ain’t interested in being a critic. I appreciate the craft, and I like fun. And that the rules don’t change much.” The Zalak said the last comment a bit more gravely.

“I imagine there’s plenty of subversion possible in the medium, though.” The Doctor remarked, hoping to steer the conversation away from the knight competitions that he knew she was referencing.

“True. But they usually save it for a one and done type deal. A surprise is only fun the first time, after all.” While Flametail kept her usual grin, the Doctor could see it falter a little, cracks forming in her attitude. She seemed to have noticed this as well, considering her nervous chuckle. An awkward silence filled the room as neither of them could find an out from the current topic.

“Aww. These are super cute!” Swire interrupted the dour mood. She had opened Flametail’s wardrobe and was idly inspecting the clothing the Zalak had.

Flametail giggled as she trotted up to the tigress. “You really think so?”

Swire nodded as she ran her fingers along the length of a jacket. “Where was this made? The material’s excellent.”

“That?” Flametail tilted her head to the side. “Oh! I think I bought that from Miss Closure’s store. I was looking for something warm to wear.”

“How much did it cost?” The Doctor asked skeptically. He fancied himself a decent appraiser, but even he couldn’t figure out if Closure was overcharging or undercharging. At least she hadn’t made company credit mandatory yet. Although Kal’tsit or Amiya would probably stop her before that ever got off the ground. Unlike that one treadmill she forced onto him.

Sona gave an offhand answer, but Swire’s interest was peaked nonetheless. She began asking Sona a few more questions as she took the jacket out and inspected it. The materials, the seams. What was made in house. What was imported. So on and so forth.

“Hmm. Her markup’s not that high, all things considered.” Swire mumbled as she put the article of clothing back.

“Really? You managed to figure all that out?” The Doctor asked. Swire chuckled bashfully.

“I mean, it’s only a cursory prediction. Unless I have access to Closure’s accounts, I can’t be certain. But that’s how Rhodes Island operates in general, isn’t it? Something like that jacket would probably cost twice as much if it showed up in one of Lungmen’s malls. With a brand on it, probably five times as much.”

“I expected as much from a Schwire.” Flametail said jokingly. Even she had heard of them. The office drones in Kazimierz would talk about them endlessly. Even the KGCC types she had the displeasure of listening to would at worst give the Schwire Group begrudging respect.

“It’s not a unique skill. Anyone that spends enough time monitoring the market can get a decent feel for things. Honestly, it’s just boring number crunching most of the time. And any sort of leadership position inevitably turns into staring at spreadsheets and documents all day, so I get plenty of practice. I imagine that stupid dragon’s living it up real nice here at Rhodes now.”

“Ch’en?” The Doctor asked. The Lung was as serious and dutiful as ever. The idea that she was relaxing never crossed his mind.

“Yeah. For all her harping about justice and doing the right thing, she complained that she spent more time doing paperwork than actual police work. She always did it all to the letter, though. She’s stuffy like that.” Swire sneered playfully. Someone like her was much more suited towards the administrative end of things then Ch’en, but she still couldn’t inspire the force like the Lung did. And certainly couldn’t hold her own in a fight as well either.

“Well, she’s not much different now.” The Doctor said. Her reports were at least thorough, if nothing else. HR loved her for it, but the less protocol-inclined operators did harbor some resentment towards her for the sudden elevation of what was expected of them. “How about you, Sona? You’ve been getting used to all the paperwork we’ve been making you do?”

“Hmm? Um, kinda…” Flametail scratched the back of her head. She sorta knew how to navigate the bureaucratic world. Pinus Sylvestris wouldn’t have lasted a day if she didn’t. But now that she and her fellow knights had taken a more advisory role to the branch office in Kawalerielki, well…She didn’t realize how swamped she’d be. And apparently the Radiant Knight had even more paperwork than her! Even now, her desk drawers were stuffed with forms and reports. She just hid them from her two friends, but she could probably stack them all from the floor to the ceiling.

“A lot of the Kazimierz infected we took onboard have helped out, though.” Sona continued. “It’s kinda weird. They’re super into the work for some reason, even though they hated doing it back there. Like, they would all win employee of the month if we were still in Kazimierz. we even have to drag them out of their office sometimes when they pull all-nighters.”

“Oh, is Rhodes Island paying them the big bucks?” Swire asked.

“I wish we could. But Kal’tsit would kill me if we went into debt.” The Doctor half-joked. “As for their motivation, I’d say it’s more purpose than anything else. Organizational work is tedious, no matter how you frame it. Even if you pay them well, they’ll just leave after they get enough. I would, at least. So the motivation to do it long term hinges on whether or not they think they’re contributing meaningfully to a cause they believe in.”

“I get it. It’s the same for the LGD.” Swire said. “After Reunion, we had a lot of resignations. Some were understandable, others were…let’s just say Hoshiguma and I don’t miss them much. Either way, the ones that stayed through thick and thin, those were the ones that believed in something.”

“I imagine Ch’en had something to do with that?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Swire sighed. “I hate to admit I’m riding off the legacy she left behind, but I hate being a liar even more.”

“Seems like you admire this Ch’en lady a lot, Miss Swire.” Flametail playfully stuck her tongue out.

“Shut up!” Swire pouted.

The Doctor laughed under his breath, but decided to not press the issue further. “Have you visited them recently, Sona?”

“Nope. Last time was when we sent a bunch of medicine to Kawalerielki, I think. About a month ago? Me and the girls have been busy with fighting and training.”

“Fair enough. A visit every once in a while would brighten their day, though.”

“Heehee. Trying to praise me, Doctor? But I’d rather not play the game the corporate bigwigs play.”

“I get that. The average worker knows leaders like us can’t care for each of them as individuals. But we need to make sure they know they’re in good hands.”

These days, the Doctor wondered whether he’s even needed on the field. Rhodes Island was host to the outlandishly skilled combatants and tacticians. They’ve resolved multiple crises without his help by this point. But he realized how high morale was raised whenever he took to the front. Perhaps that was his contribution.

“They need to be sure we have an overall goal in mind. That’s why Amiya and I run around the ship constantly, talking to them. If people think the higher ups don’t have a clue what’s going on, they’ll focus more on making sure they can leave a sinking ship than actually doing work.”

“Aye. A self-fulfilling prophesy if there ever was one. I’ve seen plenty of businesses flop in Lungmen ‘cuz the founders couldn’t get everyone to stick to a single plan.” Swire didn’t much like thinking business for every organization. And she hated agreeing with her grandfather’s advice even more. But the man was right about many things. Especially regarding leadership.

An errant sheet of paper sticking out of Flametail’s desk suddenly caught the Doctor’s attention. He could see pictures attached to it by a paper clip.

“Do you mind?” Flametail shrugged as he carefully pulled it out. He looked at the pictures. A forest. The trees were some sort of thin-trunked conifers. The Doctor hesitated for a moment. His curiosity seemed to made things worse. “I assume this is Pinus sylvestris?”

“Right on the money. I…” This time, Sona frowned, much to Swire’s shock. The Zalak tried to give the two a reassuring smile, but both of them could see how despondent she had become. Her voice more somber now. “I managed to find this during my time in the underground arenas. Just wedged into an old book somewhere.”

“That species’s endangered, isn’t it?” Swire remarked. Kazimierzan Redwood, as it was called in Lungmen. Pieces made from it fetched a hefty price at auctions, if only due to sheer scarcity of the lumber required. “Catastrophes and deforestation hit it pretty hard.”

“Well, nature in general has been hit pretty hard by the cities’ excess.” Flametail spat out, before taking a deep sigh. “There used to be a lot of them back in my home. At least Justyna’s been helping me out with replanting them. Hopefully it’ll stick long enough to matter.”

“Right. These things usually take decades to see results.” The Doctor said. “But that’ll give you something to focus on in the future at least. You have to make sure some enterprising company doesn’t chop them down.”

This seemed to brighten up the Zalak a little.

“Right. No matter what society throws their way, the trees will keep growing so long as they’re safe. Slow and steady. Heehee. Can’t believe I’m jealous of a bunch of plants.” Sona replied. She could see the Doctor still had a worried look on his face.

“Don’t worry. I’ve gotten better at handling the past these days.” She shifted her weight between her feet bashfully. “I mean, I still get teary-eyed thinking about it. Oh, but don’t tell the others! I can’t have them realizing their leader’s a little crybaby.” She winked.

“You’re secret’s safe with us.” The Doctor hid his own frown. He knew that struggle well. Amiya could get away with displaying her emotions. She was still just a child after all, no one would begrudge her for having a moment of weakness. But for him, it was a lot harder. Seeing their field commander lose it would be a disaster.

They were interrupted by Swire’s mischievous giggling.

“Conversation’s getting real heavy. Buuuuut, I have just the thing to fix this.”

The tigress immediately strode out of the room, much to the confusion of Flametail and the Doctor. They waited for a little bit until Swire stomped back into the room and growled at them to follow her. They shared a laugh as they followed behind an incensed Swire.

---

Flametail, her eyes positively shining, had a big open smile on her face as she watched a fuzzy little cub paw at her legs. Whatever sadness was welling up beforehand disappeared the instant she saw it.

“Taiowen! Sit!” Swire commanded. Her tone resembled the voice that usually blared from her drone, but it had less of an edge to it for now.

The cub backed up from Flametail’s leg and rested on its hind legs, looking up eagerly at the new arrivals. The Zalak turned to face Swire, trying to hide the pleading look on her face.

“Go on. Pick him up, he’s a good little boy.” Sona softly wrapped her hands around the creature and picked him up. He sniffed her as she brought him closer, smiling behind his sunglasses. Sona cooed as she hugged the cub to her chest.

“Why did you bring him with you?” The Doctor asked. Swire’s choice in pets was certainly exotic, befitting of the image she had. But it seemed well cared for, so the Doctor didn’t have any complaints in that department. And someone like her would do the proper paperwork.

“I guess I could’ve found a sitter, but then I got thinking. A lot of the patients here would probably love playing with him. So I figured, why not? And no matter what that dragon and rat say, they haven’t seem him in ages.”

“I’m sure it’ll be good for some. Does he have therapy training?”

“Not exactly. But Taiowen here’s used to people.” Swire giggled. “Back when Ch’en was in a bad mood and Hoshiguma wasn’t around, I always used to bring him in to get her off the others’ backs.”

“She didn’t write you up for it?”

“She’d always threatened to do so, but she never made good on the threat. Even after he walked over her keyboard and sent a bunch of gibberish to Master Wei. So look, if this little one can defuse someone like her, cheering up a few patients is a cake walk. Observe.” Swire cocked her head to Flametail laying on Swire’s bed, the cub sleeping happily on her chest.

“Eheheh. Didn’t realize he would fall asleep that quickly. Especially after he was so excited.” Flametail stayed still, not wanting to wake it up. It purred, tickling her stomach.

“Of course. It’s still a cub after all.” Swire attempted to lift her pet up a few times, but the ball of fluff seemed content to rest atop the Zalak’s body. “Haah. Why does this thing always get heavier when it’s napping?”

“Are you managing to get any work done here with him around?” The Doctor asked. Swire had brought her work laptop. And he could spot a few briefcases as well.

“What needs to be done, sure. When I gotta do work, I let that stupid rat babysit him. So Sona, any one of your friends have pets?”

“Kinda. Um, how do I explain it. Iwona has this pet robot.”

“Ah yes. The illustrious Justice Knight.” The Doctor said. He had occasionally requested its services in the past. Either to get some takeout for him or to recharge his devices. He could do without its lectures, though. The knights seemed to regard it as one of their own, somewhere between an equal and a pet. But they weren’t the only ones onboard that did so. It wasn’t uncommon to spot the operators having conversations with the many robots onboard.

“That was that machine that was with you when we met up this morning!” Swire realized. It was there to see the knights off before going to Engineering for maintenance. Like some sort of parent seeing off their kids before going to the doctors. “What sort of model is it? I’ve never seen anything like it. And Lungmen’s tech expos have everything under the sun.”

“Justice Knight is a bit special.” Flametail answered. “Iwona found it in a dumpster somewhere. She’s been refurbishing it when she can. Closure and Mayer here installed a voice module into it.” She giggled a bit at the last part. The cub bobbing up and down with her sternum. It scratched its own face a few times, but remained napping. “She gets really annoyed at its nagging now, but that’s part of the fun.”

“Reminds you of a certain someone?” The Doctor asked. Swire puffed her cheeks at the question. She didn’t deign to give an answer. After all, she didn’t know who he was implying was like the robot in this metaphor.

Flametail let out a squeak as the cub jumped off of her suddenly. Apparently it had decided that it slept enough and wanted to do something else. Swire began swishing her tail around, watching it playfully jump after the end. That should keep it distracted long enough.

“This is from Dossoles, isn’t it?” The Doctor stared at a framed photo on Swire’s desk. Ch’en had requested leave around the time he was at the Obsidian Festival. She conveniently left out the part where her friends from the LGD also happened to be there. “Was it just a happy coincidence?”

“Kinda.” Swire winked conspiratorially. The Doctor raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t what Ch’en and Lin told him. Or Hoshiguma either.

“Woah.” Sona’s face turned a shade redder as she stared at the picture. Namely at Swire’s attire.

“Like it?” The tigress asked smugly. Then she turned to the Doctor, who put his hands up. He turned stone-faced in response. Swire kept nudging him, but the man held firm in his non-responsiveness.

“That’s real bold.” Sona laughed nervously. “I don’t think I’d be able to pull it off.”

“It’s all about confidence. Just like commanding.” Swire put her hands on her hips and grinned, her tail still swishing as her pet chased after it. “Tell you what, we have some spare time, we should go see what swimsuits Closure has in stock. It always pays to be prepared. After all, I’m sure Rhodes Island will stop by a beach sooner or later.”

“Considering what seems to happen, maybe we’ll take a break somewhere else.” The Doctor mumbled, remembering his misadventure in Acahualla and Siesta. “Although, if you want to go in my stead, I’m willing to give you some extra vacation days.” If only so someone else has to deal with the tomfoolery instead of him.

Flametail’s ears perked up at both their offers. “You’d do that? Oh, um, hahaha.” She eyed the inside pattern of Swire’s jacket. It was the trademark pattern of some famous fashion brand. She wasn’t sure which, just that it was well out of her price range. “I don’t think I’d be able to keep up with your habits.”

“Don’t worry. Part of the fun’s staying on a budget. Besides, if there’s something that you’re really dying to get…” Swire flicked out a black credit card from her coat pocket. “Well, what’s the point of having money if you’re not gonna spend it?”

“The LGD must love you.” The Doctor had seen a few photos from the Lunar New Year. And the massive amounts of red envelopes Swire had stuffed into her purse for the occasion. Some of which were in the arms of her subordinates. Whether they were receiving or giving money, he didn’t know.

“Oi! Don’t go accusing me of buying their loyalty!” Swire hissed. “I only save that largess for special occasions.”

“Of course. Of course.” The Doctor chuckled briefly. “Our long conversations together back when you were getting acclimated to your position are proof of that.”

Swire practically howled in embarrassment, her ears shooting straight up. Her tail stopped as the cub finally caught it. Not sure what to do with its victory, it decided to go back to its bed and nap again.

Flametail was a little surprised. Miss Swire seemed so composed and competent. Like she was born to be head of the LGD. The Zalak had assumed part of it was her upbringing that made her so able, but to hear that the Doctor had a hand in it.

“So what did she need help wi–hmmph?!” Swire quickly covered Flametail’s mouth. That was certainly the wrong decision, as that left the Doctor free to talk.

“She was a competent leader before her promotion, so it was just a matter of getting her accustomed to the new viewpoint she would have to employ. Honestly, she didn’t even need any help. She’d probably get it within a few months herself.”

“Tch. No need to be like Hoshiguma.” Swire let out a sigh as she let Sona go. “And sorry about that.”

“I forgive ya. But that was quite the surprise. Thought someone like you would be groomed from birth to lead.”

Swire laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. I guess I kinda was.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to touch a sore spot.” Flametail apologized. Now that she looked around, there weren’t any pictures of Beatrix’s family anywhere. Most of her pictures were instead of her friends. Or memories from Rhodes Island and the LGD.

“Nah. I can’t complain too much. I know I was born more fortunate than most. And considering my spending habits, I’m not exactly in a position to completely cast off the family I was born into. But I’m not gonna let it define me either.”

“You’re starting to sound like some nobles I know back in Kazimierz.” Flametail joked. Always harping on about duty and lineage. Although Swire was at least more like the Nearls than all the others.

“Don’t let the knights hear that. They’ll never stop complaining if new money like my family was placed in the same ranks as them.” Swire replied sarcastically. “But honestly, we share a lot of the same issues, like succession crises. My grandpa’s been on his deathbed for the past few years and counting. And no one wants to pick up the will.”

“Really? Figured they’d fight over the entire Schwire fortune like starving beasts.” The Doctor said. He knew why. After all, the net worth of most business conglomerates wasn’t stored in currency or precious objects. It was in stocks, real estate, businesses. A little mismanagement was all it took to destroy any wealth the family had.

“The stupid ones in my family do. But the smart ones all have the same answer. ‘I’m not as good as Adams.’ Feh. So scared of wrecking the family legacy that they’d rather play hot potato with grandfather’s will instead. My own father had the gall to try to past it down to me. Just so he can live the good life without worrying about the responsibility.”

The Doctor wondered if that inferiority complex still rubbed off on the tigress, given her feelings about being Ch’en’s replacement. But it seemed like her answer to her family became her answer to her new position.

“Always grandfather this. Grandfather that. Grandfather wouldn’t like that. Grandfather would be disappointed in you. Tch.” Swire vented. “Compared to dealing with my family, running the LGD’s a piece of cake.”

“So you gonna brush off your family if they ever come knocking?” Flametail asked. “If you need any help, just give us a holler. We’re used to dealing with uppity rich folks. And some of my friends have experience brushing off estranged family.”

“Maybe. If the will really does end up passing to me, I’ll think about what to do then. But until that day, I’m just Swire of the LGD. And I’d say my work where I am now is way more important. So I’ll enjoy it for the time being.” Swire laughed imperiously, the badge on her jacket shining brightly in the sun as her chest heaved up and down. Come what may, she’ll rise up to the occasion. If Ch’en could keep marching forwards, so could she.

---

The Doctor walked up and down the halls of the server room again. The low humming like the drone of the long-forgotten past, and all those in it. PRTS was unusually quiet today, but he would take that as an opportunity. He needed some time to think. Beatrix and Sona were still happily chatting when he slipped out. About their hobbies. About the shops they could visit at the next city Rhodes Island will dock at. They would be fine without him.

He was accustomed to giving advice to the other operators. Despite his eccentricities, he had become something of a font of wisdom for many. Truth be told, a lot of the time he was winging it. But that wouldn’t be a satisfactory answer for most. But the advice he gave, sometimes it felt like he was telling it to himself.

The three of them had a lot in common. People relied on them to see the big picture. That was where they all faltered. From Flametail’s lack of concrete goals now that she was out of Kazimierz. To Swire’s doubts once she was finally promoted to the position she wanted. To even the Doctor, looking infinitely to the past while fighting for the future. They were like hounds chasing cars.

But the other two had at least caught a car before, and had found new ones to chase after. They both had an answer to the most fundamental question.

Why?

Swire loved Lungmen, and wanted to do whatever it took to help the city, whether that’s as Senior Superintendent of the LGD or as heiress of the Schwire Group. Flametail was an infected knight, she knew what it was like being at the very bottom, and felt she had to fight injustice wherever it may be, stand up for the little people. They may not know the details, but they both had a taproot from which all their future ideals and dreams will spring forth. But him?

The Doctor was the faithful commander of Rhodes Island. He executed their vision. Amiya’s vision. It was a noble one in his eyes. But was it his?

To help those that need help? Sure, that was a nice goal. But why? What about his person drove that desire? Did some forgotten axiom exist? Or was that all there was?

Even after all this time. After meeting so many people. Seeing so much joy and sadness. Seeing the world change. And changing the world. Peel all of that away, and his core being, the empty shell that emerged from the sarcophagus in Chernobog, was still there. All buried underneath the past few years, but never replaced. That lingering emptiness made him doubt even simple altruism.

He had given Kal’tsit an answer to that basic question before. He still remembered it. But does he truly believe it? In that moment, perhaps he did. But now, who knows? Whoever he was before still haunts his instincts. But would the answer his previous self had be satisfactory to his current self?

He froze as he heard footsteps near the entrance.

“Doctor!” Swire’s shrill shout gave him goosebumps. It cut clean through the warm air. “There you are!”

Flametail spotted him. He was on the opposite end of the room from the entrance. Within two blinks of his eyes, Flametail was already next to him.

“How’d you two know where to find me?”

Swire sighed as she pulled out her phone. “We were wondering where you went and next thing we know, someone texted us directions here.”

“What is this place anyways?” Flametail looked around at the rows of server banks chugging along. “Some sort of server farm?”

“Does Rhodes Island have this much data?” Swire asked. The LGD maintained a small server room in their HQ for classified intel, but nothing like this. This would put some of the server farms her family owned to shame.

“We have a few functions that need to be networked. There’s the company social network. And here’s the ship’s internals.” The Doctor pointed to a sticky note hanging off the top of a server bank.

If your name isn’t Closure or Mechanist, don’t mess with this stack.

“Then there’s all the battle, employee, and patient records.” He gestured towards another row. “And then…”

He stopped at a certain cluster of servers near a corner of the room. Instead of a sticky note, there was a laminated sheet of paper attached. Bright red bold letters took up the entirety of the page.

Seriously, don’t touch this. - Closure

“Uh, do we have clearance to see this?” Swire asked. She was technically a foreign liaison. And Rhodes Island was good to her, so she didn’t want to sour relations by accidentally stumbling onto something she shouldn’t have access to.

“If you were let in, it’ll probably be fine. And I’m with you. Although I’m not sure if I have clearance either.” The Doctor dryly joked.

“Eh? Seriously?” Flametail asked skeptically. If the Doctor didn’t have clearance, who did? The two operators looked from a distance at the stack that the paper had branded off limits, not wanting to get close. Lest their breath constituted a violation.

The server boxes weren’t any models either of them recognized. The casing looked aged, paint peeling to reveal the chrome grey metal underneath. The machines were much quieter than normal, but the light displays on them indicated that they were running normally. The wires looked new, like they were installed just a few years ago.

“I believe these were here when we excavated this place.” The Doctor rattled off. His eyes widened slightly after saying this. How did he know that?

“Really? When was that?” Swire asked. The Doctor shook his head. The tigress frowned sympathetically and pat him on the shoulder. “Just came to you, huh?”

“Something like that.” The Doctor stepped closer, until he could see his reflection in the various dark screens. “This is…PRTS’s system. At least part of it.”

“Oh? The mobile terminal you use when commanding us?” Swire asked. The Doctor nodded as he took out the handheld terminal he always carried with him. Still unresponsive. The AI was being coy with him. The AIs on this ship often were, but whatever PRTS was vastly exceeded someone like Lancet, Castle, and THRM-EX.

“That thing sure is handy.” Flametail remarked. “Wish I had something like that. Would make coordinating with the others a breeze. Might even get Iwona to stay on task.”

“I don’t think you can.” The Doctor gave her a wry smile and winked. He tapped the side of his forehead. “This thing is neurally linked to me. Somehow.”

“Ah.” The Zalak’s ears shot up, and her tail stiffened. “In that case no thanks. Eheh. Don’t really fancy getting something shoved inside my brain.”

“I’m not sure that’s what happened…but…” The Doctor sighed. He was supposed to be a neurologist. But his own physiology confounded him. It was frustrating. Then again, perhaps every scholar of the human body felt that way. Wanting to study themselves, to understand themselves. Only to realize how little they actually know.

“Say, what exactly is this ship?” Swire asked as she looked around again. The halls were in a constant state of maintenance. Plating replaced. Electronics rewired. Repainted. Or personalized by the residents. Despite all these novel developments, the Feline couldn’t help but feel like she’s stepping through an archaeological dig. Like the very bones of the ship supporting her are older than her entire being by epochs. “I’ve looked through the records. This thing appears in the Rim Billiton archaeological records a few years ago, but it’s a complete black box before that.”

“You’re better off asking Kal’tsit.” The Doctor answered. If anyone knew about this thing, she did. “Good luck getting a straight answer out of her, though. She’s rather cagey about this place for some reason.”

“Maybe it has some super secret super weapon.” Flametail jokingly suggested. The Doctor scoffed in agreement.

“Maybe. Maybe. If there was, that would make our lives both easier and harder.”

“How ‘bout you, Doc?” Flametail asked. “Do you remember this place? From your past life?”

The Doctor paused. Faint memories stirring. Ghostly afterimages lurked in the corner of his mind’s eye. But when he focused on them, they disappeared. He asked PRTS once. It gave him no answer. But also a vague answer. At last, he nodded. “Yeah. Somehow, I’m connected to this place. Long before Rhodes Island as a company even existed.”

He did fear for the organization at times. Whether they liked it or not, they had a presence on the world stage. At the moment, they were a bit player. A novelty among the actual powers. But the more they meddled, the more people took notice. He did a rather poor job of balancing the past and the future, the latter taking priority more often than not. But he couldn’t escape the feeling that there was something in the past that he needed to remember in order to help the future.

“If Rhodes Island Pharmaceutical ever goes under, the Schwire Group could keep it afloat, no problem. Just ask.” Beatrix offered. The Doctor shot her a quizzical look, which made her flustered. “A-ah! I mean, that’s just a worst case scenario. I’m not implying we’ve got our sights on you or anything!”

“I know. But thanks.” He gave a tired smile. He wanted answers. Answers that could only be found by living within this ancient relic. “You’ll have to convince Amiya. I don’t think she’ll like being under the wing of anyone else much.”

“In that case, I’ll pass. Don’t particular feel like going up against someone that can argue with Ch’en and win.” Swire remarked. She fluffed her jacket a few times. “Phew. We should get out of here. It’s way too hot.”

“By the way, Doctor. Are you doing anything when we’re docking?” Flametail asked as the three began walking out.

“For the first day, yeah. I’ve got to supervise the resupply with Closure. But that should be about it.”

“Then you should go shopping with us!” Swire grinned. “Don’t worry. We can get Hoshiguma and Ch’en to carry all our bags for us.”

“Eheheh. I’m sure Iwona and Justice Knight will be happy to lighten their load.” Flametail offered, deliberately leaving herself out.

“Alright. I’m game. Just don’t make me carry anything. I can barely carry myself.”

The two operators chatted happily as they began leaving the room. The Doctor followed behind them, but turned just as he reached the door. He looked at the ancient server bank again. And then to his terminal.

“Was this your way of cheering me up?” He whispered to PRTS. There was no one else that would direct them here. No response again, but some of the machines do get noisier. He’ll take that as a yes.

---

Amiya bashfully accepted an entire stack of books. “Doctor, you really didn’t have to.”

“I bought too much.” He replied tersely as he looked at the bags resting near his feet. Just endless piles of consumer products. “Don’t worry. Swire paid for it all. Closure wasn’t happy we decreased traffic to her store, though.”

“Do we need to correct your spending habits? You’re not secretly a shopaholic, are you?”

The Doctor shook his head. “Sona brought her friends with her. And then Maria tagged along. Then Zofia too. Then Hoshiguma and some of her acquaintances. And before you know it, you have over a dozen people that just got told they had a blank check. By the way, here’s some candy.”

The Cautus’s eye lit up as she took the box from the Doctor’s hands. Without thinking, he found a hand drifting to pat her head, pressing down her ears gently. The girl giggled as he doted on her, and he found himself smiling as well.

This great machine and him had a history. One that most likely stretches back far into antiquity. Everyone that he’s gotten to know in the past few years were but a small part of that history. But for the time being, making sure they could live happily might be reason enough for everything that he does.

“Help me sort through all this.” The Doctor suggested. “We need to know what’s safe to give to pediatrics. And then to our adult patients. Anything leftover we can just leave for the employees and operators to take.”

---

Subject: Stop wandering into the server room

From: Closure

To: Everyone

I gotta lay down the law. That fancy room with all those fancy electronics? Unless you got some work to do there, DON’T GO IN.

You know who you are! I know how you people act! All it takes is one spilled drink, and presto! Everyone’s memes and pics are gone. Or we lose actual important records and I have to spend time and money restoring them.

So come on people, don’t go in there. If you’ve got some text message saying you should, it’s a damn prank. And I’m gonna find the moron that’s doing it. It’s muggy and dusty in there anyways. There’s way better places to be.

Like my store, for example! I managed to work out some backroom deals with some of the local shops, it’s way cheaper than the tourist traps you’ll visit!

---

Chapter Text

“Torque wrench.” Pinecone said calmly as she held out her hand. Ashlock scanned the open toolbox, her eyes darting between the shiny chrome implements. Half of which she had no clue what they were. She picked up what she thought was a torque wrench.

A second passed. Pinecone didn’t even look at the tool in her palm. She simply refused to close her fingers. Wrong tool was the implication. Within the span of a few minutes of work, the two had developed this system. Ashlock replaced her first choice with another tool. This one Pinecone took as she began loosening a bolt on the knight’s cannon.

“So what’s the verdict?” Ashlock asked. Her cannon had been vibrating fiercely since the last time she practiced with it. She had been intending to take it to Engineering like usual, but Pinecone had been staring at it ever since the two of them entered her room. It was hard to believe this spacey little Liberi was so renowned among the handymen here.

“Hmm…Hmm…” Pinecone hummed to herself as she continued twisting the bolt, completely lost in her own world. Until the bolt stopped turning. She jiggled her wrench a few times, before switching over to a pair of pliers instead.

With a soft grunt, she pulled the bolt out and held it in front of her face. The thing was charred black and curved.

“Warped by heat.” Pinecone reported plainly. Ashlock’s eyes widened a little. Thankfully, Pinecone ignored her embarrassment and continued servicing the weapon. Prying off the cover plate, inspecting the internals. The Liberi had next to no experience with military equipment, she much preferred civil machinery. But a machine was a machine, and so she could at least do something.

“There’s a lot of residue here.”

“Shit!” Ashlock hissed out. Probably spent propellant that leaked into the cracks and crevices. That would explain why the recoil was feeling worse recently. “Did the ejection port get messed up again? Haah. That’s why I get for skimping out on parts.”

“You shouldn’t do that.” Pinecone said. It wasn’t a scolding tone. Rather, she said it as if her words were common sense. That just twisted the knife even more.

“I know. I know. Just an old habit back when I was a knight. When the decision was between having enough to buy a meal or one more shell, sometimes my stomach won out.”

“I get that. Back when I started working, I always got hungry in the middle of a shift. The other workers would keep giving me snacks, even when I didn’t ask.” As Pinecone toiled away identifying which parts needed to be tightened, loosened, or replaced, Ashlock could guess why. “I got better at staying on my feet as time went on, but my dad never let me live it down. He’d always tease me just before lunch break started.”

“Your dad, huh?” Ashlock frowned. “Do you talk to your parents often?”

Pinecone shook her head. “He got a new job helping build the cities. And I’m here keeping this place together. We write when we can, but it’s not the same.”

The Liberi sighed wistfully.

“I wish I could hear him sing again.”

“You get your singing voice from him?” The Zalak could recall a few times when Mina stopped by the various bars during karaoke nights. She would always need a little push to get up to the mic, but she had a nice voice.

“Yes. If you hear me singing, it’s usually a song he made up.”

“If you want, I can get a spare recorder you can send him.” Ashlock offered. She of all people understood that there were times when words alone weren’t enough to truly convey what you feel about a person.

Pinecone hesitated for a moment, enough to stop her work. She stared blankly at nothing as she began thinking about it.

“I’m serious. If you’ve got loved ones, you ought to stay as connected as you can. Make as many memories as you can. Who knows what might happen in the future.” The last sentence she uttered bitterly. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t envious of Pinecone, but what’s done is done. Besides, looking at it another way, she was the one with her loved ones close to her now.

---

A cluster of pink verbenas as a base. Followed by a ring of alternating pansies, black that turned to yellow, and white starry jasmines. Lavenders surrounded the centerpiece, a sunflower. Matoimaru carefully counted her arrangement. By flower type, then overall. Making sure she had the correct number. Every once in a while, she would gently pinch the stem of one flower or another, coaxing them into the appropriate position.

Perfumer watched silently. She had seen the Oni’s flower arrangements before on display, but never had the opportunity to watch it in action. The craft was surprisingly dissonant to her own image of the Oni, who she thought to be quite the rambunctious one. Then again, no matter how much she ran through the Convalescent Garden, Perfumer never once found a flower or plant trampled underfoot. Perhaps Matoimaru was more gentle than she had assumed.

“And done!” Matoimaru’s excited shout quickly proved Perfumer wrong. The Vulpo could feel her eardrums trembling at such a sudden loudness. Then again, the bright smile on the Oni’s face made it hard to chastise her. And the flower vase Matoimaru held out in front of her made it even harder.

“This is for you!” Matoimaru grinned happily. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for letting me hang out in your garden.”

“You don’t have to.” Perfumer protested weakly. She nonetheless accepted the arrangement. The faint scent of lavender was familiar to her, but the joy of getting a gift made it smell just a slight bit sweeter. “All are welcome in the Convalescent Garden.”

“Yeah, but you stopped Mister Flamebringer the first time we stumbled onto each other.”

“Only because I was worried you two would clear cut the entire garden by accident.” Perfumer sighed. “Actually, if you want, there is a part of the garden that’s gone fallow. We’ve been meaning to clear it up for ages but never had enough hands.”

“Alright. Leave it to me. I’ll turn that whole plot upside down.” Matoimaru boasted. The Oni immediately grabbed the naginata hanging on her wall and moved to exit.

“Um…That can wait until later.”

“Ya sure?” Matoimaru tilted her head. “Usually if someone needs help, I like to hop right to it.”

“I want to see if there’s anything worth salvaging before we tear the whole field up.”

“Got it. Got it. Just let me know when you do it, then.” The Oni’s red eyes brightened suddenly as she set her weapon down again, perhaps with a bit too much force, considering how the blade bit into the block it was supposed to rest on.

“Is something amiss?” Perfumer asked.

“I just remembered, I promised to play soccer with some of the kids today!” Matoimaru exclaimed excitedly. Lena fought back the urge to sigh. Leave it to her to accidentally schedule two competing events. Matoimaru probably didn’t mean anything bad by it. She just got excited at the prospect of playing soccer and didn’t think about anything else. But the way half her body seemed like it wanted to leave while the other half wanted to stay showed that Matoimaru at least knew she would be brushing Perfumer off if she left now.

“Sports are very beneficial for our patients, mentally and physically.” Perfumer giggled as she set the vase down. She had a premonition about what was going to happen next. “Why don’t I join you as a referee? That way you don’t have to worry about fulfilling both your obligations.”

Matoimaru didn’t say a word. She simply gasped happily as she lifted Perfumer over her shoulder and marched out the door. Perfumer had prepared for this inevitability, but was somehow still shocked. And somewhat indignant.

“Put me down!” She squirmed as best she could in the Oni’s iron grip, to no avail. “Or at least don’t carry me like a sack of grain. W-wait! Don’t run in the halls either!”

The various pedestrians paid the screaming Vulpo no mind. They simply moved out of the way of the rampaging Oni, as if this was an everyday inconvenience.

---

Podenco sniffed at the green ball-shaped herbal pills on the table. The fragrant crushed tea leaves provided an enticing aroma. She was almost tempted to pop them into her mouth at that instant.

“Have you tried incorporating some of our herbs?” Podenco asked. “Or even asking Engineering for some synthetic scents? I’m sure people would love these if they smelled like cotton candy.”

Nine-colored Deer giggled as she continued grinding more tea leaves in a pestle. “Perhaps. But we want to make them palatable. Not desirable. These are still medicine. They are not sweets.”

“Oh. Right.” Podenco laughed sheepishly. “I remember one time one of the younger patients got a hold of a big container of vitamin gummies. By the time we took it back, it was half empty.”

“Oh dear.” The Elafia paused briefly. “Were they alright?”

Podenco nodded. “We had to give them an emetic, but they learned to not do that in the future.”

“That’s good to hear.” Nine-colored Deer nonetheless thought to herself. She had been using tea leaves for so long simply because they were easily available, along with the flowers she was familiar with. But making a range of medicines with different aromas would be an interesting change of pace. Not only for those that don’t like tea, but also for those who might be more receptive to other smells as well.

“I’m not averse to diversifying my selection. I’m certainly interested in learning about the rest of the world. Tell me, what flower has your favorite scent?”

Podenco’s canine ears shot straight up. “My favorite? Um…”

The Perro struggled to find an answer, given the sheer amount of flowers she knew about. She would often spend time wandering the greenhouse, enjoying the atmosphere. She had gotten good at discerning flowers by their individual scents. Not nearly as good as Miss Lena, but decent enough.

“I’ve been really interested in Jacarandas recently. It’s this really pretty pink flowering tree. We picked up a small one from Bolivar recently. I’m so excited to see its first blossom.”

“A tree from Bolivar? Your home?”

The Perro nodded. “I guess I’m just feeling a little homesick, is all. It has a really subtle smell, but it’s really nice.”

“That sounds wonderful. Hmm…Can you think of any other plants growing in the garden we can use?”

Podenco’s tail wagged side to side. “We have some lemon beebalm from Columbia. Nasturtiums or dandelion buds would also work. Clovers as well. I can pick some out for you.”

“Thank you very much. And in exchange, why don’t I teach you how to make these?”

“H-huh? Um, I don’t have much training in medicine. I’m only a botanist. And even then, most of what I know is what Miss Lena taught me.”

“I can see the love you have for all that grows in your greenhouse. And you wish to help people, yes?”

The Perro nodded.

“Each and every person has at least one thing to teach to those around them. And one thing they can learn from those around them.” The Elafia said sagely. It would not be the first time she’s taught a beginner. “And perhaps more importantly, medicine may heal the body. But kindness will heal the soul. You have both in abundance.”

Podenco blushed and giggled shyly. “Well, if you put it like that…I guess it would be rude if I declined.”

The two continued making not only herbal pills, but also poultices and drinks well into the evening hours. Podenco proved a fast student, not only eagerly absorbing everything Nine-colored Deer was teaching, but also making suggestions and modifications based on her own herbal knowledge.

By the time the sun set, Nine-colored Deer had taken it upon herself to make dinner for the two of them. Podenco tried to sit patiently at the table, but found herself slouching. She rested her head in her arms and drifted off to sleep. The Elafia supposed she should scold her, but the way Podenco snored quietly was too adorable. Podenco stirred a few times as the aroma of the stew made it to her nose, but never awoke fully.

“She’ll be happy to wake up to a feast.” The Elafia whispered to herself. She smiled as she spared a glance at the stack of notes Podenco had written. The world was one of indifferent cruelty, the people in it often selfish. But it was also one where kindness and goodness sprouted as defiant as weeds. She will not simply wait for the world to reward the good-natured. No. Being here taught her that sometimes, she must reward them herself.

---

“My clutch seizes up if it shifts above the third gear.” Earthspirit complained as she sprayed oil on the teeth of a gear.

“Heh. Better than your drive shaft slipping in the middle of a ride.” Hoshiguma jostled the differential gears, making sure they stayed in place. She had tightened the screws to the point where she wasn’t sure if they could come out again out of frustration. Hopefully that wouldn’t bite her in the ass in the future. She revved the engine a few times, the back wheel of her ride spinning in the air.

“At least yours doesn’t have siblings in a museum.” Earthspirit remarked self-deprecatingly. It was hard finding replacement parts for her Fernand II. Any factories that made them have long since switched to more modern models. She occasionally had to put in special orders to Engineering, but even the automotive engineers here had to do a bit of guesswork without a specs sheet. She had at least not crashed due to failed parts yet, so she’ll take that as proof of their expertise.

“At least yours doesn’t look like you pulled it out of a scrapyard. Granted, I did pull this one out of a one.”

“This one?”

“Collecting bikes is a hobby. Got an entire garage of ‘em back in Lungmen.”

“You can afford that on your salary?”

Hoshiguma laughed. “Nah, I ain’t like Missy. My pay barely covers the maintenance for one, so I only go on joyrides every once in a while. As for the garage, a couple of folks in the slums still owe me favors from the old days. They keep the place tidy and secure.”

“There must be a lot more open space out here than near Lungmen. Did you bring a working bike?”

“What do you mean? This one works. Some of the time.” Hoshiguma sighed as she began reassembling the outer frame. “I just don’t have much time to actually do things for myself back home. This vacation was a good excuse as any to finally finish this.”

Finishing early, Hoshiguma watched Earthspirit continue to toil on her bike. She had seen a Fernand II before, in a vintage magazine. Being able to watch one rev across the fields in person would be a treat. That reminded her, a crook she busted recently was a vintage bike aficionado. They even had a nice chat in the police van on the way to the station.

“We took a couple of old machining tools from a suspect recently.” Hoshiguma idly mentioned as she sat sideways on her ride. “If I knew we’d get this into rides, I would’ve brought them over. Maybe give them to Engineering.”

“Really? From what you’ve told me, I thought you’d be all over the latest and greatest rather than the old-fashioned stuff.”

“That’s only because I’ve got a rival back in the city. I need to squeeze every ounce of speed I can to beat her.” The Oni of the LGD omitted exactly who that rival was. If only because she knew the rumors would eventually make it to a certain blue-haired dragon. She could picture Ch’en’s look. Her aunt Fumizuki? No way.

“But I can appreciate the oldies as well. Maybe I’ll still ship them here when we get back. No one knows what to do with them, so we were thinking about melting them down or auctioning them off. But,” Hoshiguma eyed Earthspirit’s well-maintained vehicle, “if someone here has need of the tools, I guess it would be fine to donate them.”

“That would certainly make this hobby of mine cheaper.”

“Oh? Pulled in some overtime to pay for something you really wanted?”

“Don’t even joke about that.” Earthspirit griped, rolling her eyes. “But yes. Well, it’s decent enough that I know it won’t fall apart the moment I crest a hill. Why don’t we take these out for a joyride?”

“Damn straight.” The two motorcycle enthusiasts carried their rides out of the workshop, eagerly anticipating the rushing wind in their faces.

---

“Tah!” Jackie’s palm slammed into a punching bag. The red bag flew back, just in time to be hit again as it swung back.

“Nice! Still ain’t got nothing on me though.” Wild Mane boasted as she kick the same bag. Sending it flying further back than Jackie.

“Darn. Guess I gotta up my game.”

“You two have fun with that.” Ethan said. They didn’t hear him, too lost in their own competition to care. A trickster like him worked better with more serious types anyhow. When paired with two rambunctious girls like them, he was no match, in strength or comedy. Besides, either of them could punch his lights out with no effort whatsoever. So he contented to practicing yoyo tricks on Wild Mane’s couch.

“Hiyaah!” Wild Mane performed a roundhouse kick, the wind knocking over the documents on her desk. Ethan simply sighed as a few billowed over and covered him.

“Guess I gotta concede.” Jackie said. The Perro didn’t seem that despondent as she pat the casting unit on her belt. “But I know I got you beat in Arts.”

“Ack! Low blow.”

“She’s overestimating herself.” Ethan said dryly. Might as well add fuel to the fire. “The instructors always gotta keep her around afterwards thanks to how often she tunes out their lessons.”

“You’re not one to talk.” Jackie countered. “Instructor Stormeye always manages to find you when you slack off.”

“Hey! Not my fault Rhodes Island has freaking spec ops. That guy’s got a gaze to him, like he knows your every move. There’s no hiding from him.”

“Oh! I just got the best idea!” Wild Mane giddily opened the door to her room. “Why don’t we race to Ethan’s room. Last one there has to buy a drink for everyone.”

“You’re on! Ready, set, go!” Jackie immediately began sprinting. Wild Mane cursed at her, barreling down the halls as fast as possible. Ethan sighed again.

He fetched out his wallet. He still wasn’t used to having it full like this. Not having to obsessively count each bill and coin. It was a weird feeling, but not a bad one.

What was a weird and bad feeling was the one he got hanging out with these two. Throughout the entire time they’ve been together, there was only one thought in the back of his mind.

“Why am I the responsible one?” He muttered to himself. Dealing with jokers was exhausting. He now had a degree of sympathy for the busybodies that usually stopped him.

“Beep-beep. Did Justice Knight just detect Master Iwona speeding by in the halls?” A peculiar machine wheeled up next to the Savra casually walking.

“Yep.” Ethan answered.

“Beep-beep. That’s no good. Master Iwona has already received three infractions this month for improper behavior in the halls. Justice Knight would very much like not having to bear her screaming about her lost paycheck later this week.”

The machine then burned rubber down the halls after its errant owner. Ethan simply shook his head. He didn’t even know robots like that could go so fast. What an absolute clown show this place was. At least he wouldn’t be the one in trouble this time. Then again, they might suspect him by sheer association. That would be a pain in the neck.

But there was never a dull moment here. That was nice in its own way.

---

“Kotz, what is this?” Ash asked as she looked at the bulletin board again.

“Some icebreaker program. We need to restock on ammo, and well, the other two don’t really have anything to do while the forges are humming away.” Blitz answered.

“So why didn’t you sign up? This seems right up your alley.”

The man laughed. “Maybe next time. I’ve gotta translate everything for you, considering you want to hit up the intel folks here.”

Ash got back to her work as Blitz fiddled with the burner phone he had procured. Seneviev wasn’t an issue, the big guy got along well with anyone. Tsang was a bit more on the aloof side. He had been at wit’s end trying to get her to open up, at least until a certain explorer he had chanced upon one day gave him an opening.

“I managed to convince Asbestos to stay put long enough for this. She really needs to talk to more people. Are you sure she won’t just brush them off?” A worried text message said.

“Trust me. The two of them will be like peas in a pod.” Blitz replied back. Even if it didn’t work out, he would at least have a funny story to tell later.

---

“Now Popukar, make sure to go to bed early. And tidy up your part of the room, okay? You want to make a good impression.” Orchid gently lectured. Popukar nodded obediently in response.

“And make sure you get some secrets from her, yeah?” Catapult added. Orchid glared at the Kuranta. “Hey, we can get out of training if she does.”

“Man, why do I gotta be stuck with Midnight? Is it because we share a dorm?” Spot complained. He already had some interactions with Elysium in the past. A decent enough guy in Spot’s eyes, but him and Midnight together would be insufferable. “He ain’t even paired with a lady, so it’s not like he needs a chaperone.”

“If you would like, Spot, you can sit this one out. From the brief exchanges I’ve had with him in the past, I believe we’re kindred spirits. We will get along swimmingly.”

Orchid sighed as she got close to Spot and whispered, “I’m telling you this on behalf of all the women here, please keep them on a leash.”

“Urgh. Fine. But if they hit on people and get hit, I ain’t helping them. I’m gonna record it instead.”

---

“Ah! Miss Lena. Miss Podenco.” Suzuran beamed a bright smile and bowed to the two gardeners just about to begin their work. “How was your time off? Don’t worry, we managed to keep everything under control.”

“The extra hands were useful. Yet I don’t think many will be back. Free labor is seldom reliable.” Flamebringer remarked. Perfumer rolled her eyes. The fact that there weren’t any angry emails in her inbox meant things went decently at least.

“That’s not true, Mister Flamebringer,” Suzuran said, completely ignoring the man’s tone, “some of them promised to do it again when I asked.”

“Heh. They’ll come back, until they realize how monotonous the toil is day in and day out.” The Sarkaz said nothing else and went back to tending the flowers. Podenco went to her greenhouse to take inventory while Lena surveyed the garden as a whole. Far fewer weeds than last time, and the seeds germinating in the planter trays were already starting to sprout. In a week or two, she ought to transfer them into the raised beds.

“By the way, Perfumer,” Flamebringer, flower pot in hand, stopped next to the Vulpo. “I saw you attempt those free kicks yesterday. Your form is atrocious.”

“Can it!” Perfumer spat back. “Unless you want to direct every volunteer session from now on.”

“That Oni, though.” His face darkened into a sinister grin. “I would love to face her one day.”

“Oh? I can certainly arrange that.” Perfumer smugly grinned. “She seems rather fond of me, after all.”

“I know your deal, gardener. What will it take?”

Perfumer gave Flamebringer a false smile. “There are a few bags of fertilizer waiting in logistics that need to be picked up. The compost heaps need to be turned. Some of the metal crabs have taken to burrowing outside their habitat, so we need to fill in the holes they’ve dug. Not to mention some of the artificial lighting fixtures need to be replaced.”

Flamebringer hid his grimace as Perfumer continued listing the multiple tasks in an obnoxiously sweet voice. Between the two of them, it was hard to tell who was the more devilish one at times.

---

Phase Six Groupings

Archetto-Croissant

Asbestos-Frost

Whislash-Popukar

Orchid-Bibeak-GreyThroat

Quercus-Dobermann-Tachanka

Catapult-Myrrh

Elysium-Spot-Midnight

Doctor-Thorns-Corroserum

---

Chapter Text

Popukar looked down at her feet. Orchid gave Whislash an apologetic look as the Liberi nudged the small girl forward. Even with Popukar’s forehead practically touching Whislash’s leg, the little girl did not look up.

“Sorry about this. I didn’t realize she’d be this shy.” Orchid said candidly. This confused Popukar even more, considering she had always been told to address the instructor politely.

“It’s no problem.” Whislash leaned down until she was eye-level with Popukar, smiling warmly as she waited for the girl to open up. She had experience with this sort of thing by now. Odds are, Popukar still saw her as Instructor Whislash, her mind still struggling grasp the idea that her teachers had lives outside of teaching. For a child like her, the idea of having to hang out with your teacher for an entire day must seem weird.

“We aren’t doing any training today, so why don’t you just call me Zofia?” Popukar looked up shyly, looking eyes with the cheery Kuranta.

“Z-Zofia.”

“Yep. Nice to meet you again.” Whislash extended a hand out, which Popukar grasped. The Kuranta gave the girl a light handshake, as if introducing herself. At least this seemed to calm Popukar down a little, enough to coax her out of her shell at least.

“You’re good.” Orchid remarked as Whislash stood up again. Whislash simply grinned. Her experience helping raise those two certainly helped in times like this. Now that the icebreaker was out of the way, the question became who would go first. She already had an idea in mind.

“So, Popukar. Did you work extra hard to clean your room for today?” Whislash asked. Popukar nodded proudly. “Fantastic! Why don’t you show me?”

“Okay!” The girl immediately ran out of the room.

“And off she goes.” Orchid said. She really hoped Popukar remembered the way back to their room. “Urgh. Sorry about that. Could you please keep an eye on her? Before she hurts someone?”

“No problem.” The Kuranta strolled after the young Cautus. It wasn’t hard to follow her trail after all. Subconsciously, she reached for her whipsword, only to grasp air. She pivoted her hand behind her back and straightened out her clothes, as if that was what she intended to do all along. She would need to make sure she doesn’t slip back into instructor mode by accident.

---

Whislash waited as Popukar punched in code after code, only to be met by a red buzz each time. Orchid did slip her a note just before they parted ways, but she wanted to wait a little bit. She’ll stop Popukar before the girl goes on a rampage, but letting the girl try first was important.

“Um…is it this one?” Popukar punched in another four digits. Another red buzz. “Then, this one?”

A green light. The door slid open. The girl clapped to herself, delighted that she remembered the code.

“Eheh. Miss Orchid usually does it because I can’t remember the numbers. But when she’s not around, Miss Catapult knows how to open it as well.”

“Catapult? Dare I ask?” Whislash knew of Catapult. Out of all the members of A6, that girl was probably the one that gave the instructors the most trouble. Between her and Dobermann, it was hard to tell who Catapult gave the most grief to. It seemed to alternate based on the day and the sniper’s mood.

“She uses this weird thing that looks like a calculator. She hooks it up and it goes beep-beep. And then the door opens!” Whislash raised an eyebrow. That didn’t sound like Catapult in the slightest.

“Once, when her thingy didn’t work, she got real mad and tried to blow up the door.” That sounded like Catapult. “Then, when Miss Orchid stopped her, she complained that I get to be mad and she doesn’t. I don’t really get it.”

“She can control herself. You’re still learning.”

“Learning…Um, Miss Zofia? When we train, why do the other instructors always argue with you? Am I doing something wrong?”

Right, kids don’t really get the details, but they could pick up on the mood very quickly. “It’s not your fault, Dobermann and Dur-nar want to focus on squad cohesion. But honestly, you lot fight well together, no matter how chaotic you are outside of combat. I’ve been wanting to focus on having you hone your…uniqueness a bit more.”

“Like how I’m super strong?”

“Precisely! You’re still a growing girl, so you’ll probably get even stronger. We should teach you to control yourself now so you don’t have to worry about it later.”

“Really? So I’ll be strong like Miss Skadi? Or Bubble? She always beats the other children at arm-wrestling. She said I won once, but I can’t remember it.”

Whislash laughed nervously. The rumors of that match had made the rounds pretty quickly. Supposedly, one of the doctors in pediatrics fainted when they saw a table split clean in half, the metal rods holding it up twisted and crumpled. The children had fun, though. And no one got hurt. Shamare and Suzuran had made sure of that. “If you want to be, you have to be responsible. That sort of power can hurt people if you aren’t careful.”

“Got it. Just hurt the bad guys, right?”

Whislash stayed silent. It was far more difficult than that. Far, far more difficult. But she wasn’t exactly the best teacher for that. She could train people to fight, but why is an entirely different story. More importantly, she shouldn’t be teaching right now anyways. How did their conversation end up this way? Is she so used to mentoring young people at this point that she can’t even have a casual conversation with them anymore?

“Anyways,” Whislash coughed out, “we should go inside now. We’ve been taking up space in the halls.”

The two-person bedroom was slightly larger than the standard single rooms, but not by much. Beds at opposite sides of the room. To their left, spare sheets of fabric and fashion magazines. Along with stacks of documents. That was definitely Orchid’s side of the room. On the right, a starkly clean floor. On Popukar’s bed was a pink rabbit plush, the sheets neatly arranged. Definitely not its natural state of being.

The rooms of Rhodes Island were small by Zofia’s standards, but not always in a bad way. They were far more lived-in than most of the big guest rooms and studies her estate had. The only thing those places were good for was gathering dust. It made her like this place. Even with the limited spaces provided to them, the employees and patients tried to squeeze as much use out of the volume provided as they could. That was optimization she could get behind.

Popukar walked over to her side of the room and spread her arms wide. “Tadah! I worked extra hard to make it look neat.”

“I can tell.” Whislash rested a hand on her own cheek. “So, did Orchid help you with any of this?”

Popukar shook her head. “I put away all my toys myself. And then made the bed. And then washed my desk. Oh, but she did fold my clothes for me, because I’m not good at it. And then she mopped the floors, because she was worried I would spill the bucket.”

It sounded more like it was half and half, but Zofia kept silent.

The bedsheets looked very clean. Freshly laundered perhaps. But completely devoid of wrinkles as well. Like they were freshly ironed and never disturbed.

“Where do you usually sleep?”

“In my own bed. I’m a big girl.” Popukar boasted. “Um, but when it gets stormy or cold outside, I sometimes snuggle up with Orchid.”

There have been a few storms as of late. Some of them strong enough to cause parts of the hull to creak. It was funny. Back when Maria was young, she used to hide under the bed whenever thunder shook the windows. Now, she was volunteering to inspect the outer plating for damage and patch it up.

Popukar looked around the room, trying to find her things in their usual place. Only to realize they were all no longer where they would be, because she had stored them all.

“You’ve been staring at that box for a while, what do you want to show me?” Whislash asked. She trotted over to her toybox, a somewhat large cardboard box, and began digging through the things she had shoved in there. Old worksheets. Some books. Then her many toys, such as a model car that hit the ground with a heavy thud. Was the thing actually made of metal? Whislash took a step back, not wanting to have anything to hit her.

As Popukar continued searching, Whislash let out a sigh. All the work Popukar had done to clean up, it must’ve taken at least half an hour, probably more. And in the span of thirty seconds, it was all undone as the floor was covered in…things. There was no word to describe everything that now found their normal resting place.

“Here we go.” Popukar held a toy up triumphantly. A shiny black ball. Whislash took it from her. She was taken by surprise at how heavy it was. A magic 8-ball? It seemed like a mundane enough toy. Although she knew a few people who gambled on knight fights using similar divination methods. Their losses were about as high as expected.

She shook it around, watching the electric screen expectantly. Nothing. Popukar urged her to try again. Whislash shook it again, still nothing. Then she had an idea. She shook it harder this time, putting her entire arm into it. How much force did it need to register? Finally, the screen blinked on. A pink rabbit-like beast? Another shake. A cystybeast. A magic 8-ball for children, then.

“Miss Catapult gave one of these to me once. But then I tried to shake it so hard it broke.” Popukar took out another ball, identical to the one in Whislash’s hand. Shaking this one around yielded various fractal patterns that transformed into each other. “Mister Midnight and Mister Spot went to Engineering and asked them to make these for me.”

“That explains a lot.” Such as why Whislash had never seen these before. The high tolerance probably meant that these were specifically for Popukar. They were probably drop-safe. She didn’t want to test it out, though. She got the feeling that her foot would be the thing that gets damaged if she did. Feeling the toy a bit more, it wasn’t plastic like she was expecting. It was metal, the internals were probably just as hardy. The glass holding the screen must be reinforced as well.

“Say, do you know who made these for you?”

Popukar shook her head. “Midnight just said it was a special friend of his. He says he has a lot. For some reason, Spot and Catapult always laugh when he does. And Orchid tells him to stop lying.”

“You’ll learn about it when you’re older. But it’s a darn shame.”

“Do you want one yourself? Um…I can give you one of mine.” Popukar offered sweetly.

“It’s fine. It wouldn’t be for me. I was just thinking, Maria would love one of these to tinker around with.”

“Maria? Um…she’s the lady that looks like you, right? Well, there are two ladies that look like you.”

“She’s the one usually covered in machine oil.” Whislash joked affectionately. “The one that looks like she could solo an army is her older sister, Margaret.”

“Ah! Nearl!” Whislash almost forgot that her older niece had just used the family name as a codename. She did worry about Maria for that reason when they got here, worried that Maria would always just be “Nearl’s little sister” to everyone. But she seemed to have made plenty of friends in Engineering, so that thankfully dispelled such fears. “She’s super strong. Like a superhero from Spot’s comics. Midnight showed me her matches once.”

“Aye. There aren’t many who can match her one-on-one. At least, that’s what I thought.” Before she came here and realized how many monstrous combatants there were in the world. Even some of the medics here seemed like they could tear through people with ease. If every operator entered the Major, the entire city would probably be flattened by the time a champion was crowned.

“But Miss Maria is super tough too. And really smart. One of the instructors made us watch her matches for training.”

“I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear that.”

Popukar stared at Whislash, trying to gauge how strong the Kuranta was relative to the other two Nearls. Popukar knew that she was good enough to be an instructor, and the instructors were all good at fighting. She and Dobermann would occasionally spar when everything was done while the trainees watched.

“Um, did you fight as well, Miss Zofia?”

“That I did. Didn’t make as much of a splash compared to the other two. You’d probably have to do a lot of digging to find recordings of my matches.” In the fast-paced fame-obsessed industry of Kazimierz’s knightly contests, the spotlight seldom lasted long on anyone. The rising star from a year ago would be ancient history today, remembered nostalgically as if they were some long dead historical figure. From what her friends back in Kawalerielki tell her, pretty much everyone’s forgotten about even Maria at this point. And Margaret is really only brought up if a news story covered her now.

“But it’s not so bad fading from public view.”

“Eh? Mister Spot said the same thing. I don’t really get it.”

“He’s a soldier. Soldiers that show off too much talent and initiative aren’t exactly welcome.”

Popukar blankly stared at her, frowning slightly. Whislash sighed. This girl. Just like those two. Wanting to believe the world was a just place where hard work and talent will always be rewarded. Then again, she was like that once as well.

“Well, put it this way. Remember when Ceobe and Bubble trained together once. And then Bubble destroyed more targets than Kay did?”

Popukar nodded and giggled. “Kay got super mad and started using her Arts, even though we were training with crossbows.”

“Right. And then she started tattling on every little thing Bubble was doing wrong, even though she causes just as much trouble. Why do you think Kay did that?”

“Because she got jealous?”

“Precisely!” Whislash gave her a thumbs up. It wouldn’t be the whole truth. But talking about how fiercely independent individuals that stuck out were perceived as a threat to those in power would probably still be a few years out for the little girl. If Zofia couldn’t drill that into the head of her two nieces, or even herself, she wasn’t going to try on someone else.

“Some people never grow up, so they end up carrying that immature jealousy into adulthood.” Whislash spat out. Unconsciously, she reached a hand out to mess with Popukar’s hair. “Don’t be like them, yeah? When you see someone doing better than you, don’t try to tear them down. Use your frustration to make yourself work harder.”

“Okay.” Popukar obediently answered. She was still a bit unsure about what to make of this. The person in front of her sounded like Instructor Whislash, looked like her. But she was so much nicer. Maybe it was just because she didn’t have her whip with her, which she was prone to using to get trainees’ attention.

---

“Waah! Miss Zofia, d-did you make Logistics angry?” The little Cautus girl seemed like she was about to cry for some reason as she stared at the boxes and bags piled haphazardly in a far corner of Whislash’s room.

“Hmm?”

“Miss Orchid told me that when Logistics gets mad at someone or want to pull a prank, they dump a bunch of boxes into their room.”

“It’s not that bad.” Then again, it was a neck and neck race between who had the messier room now that she thought about it. “Most of this stuff I bought myself.”

“Eh? Eh!” Popukar’s jaw dropped.

“Whenever we stop by anywhere, I just buy whatever catches my fancy.” Whislash replied nonchalantly. “No sense letting my winnings sit in a vault somewhere until the bank collapses. Might as well transfer it into something useful.”

“Wow. I bet you own a big stack of gold somewhere. Catapult said she once stole a bunch of gold coins from some rich noble.”

“Banks don’t exactly work like that.” Whislash cut herself off. No sense robbing the girl of her fantasies. And there were plenty of old-timey nobles and merchants that didn’t trust their wealth with anyone. Those ones usually end up being buried with their treasure. “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about selling my house. Not like there’s anyone in there these days. And I swear, if those neighbors somehow manage to start sending letters to here complaining about how overgrown the garden is… Hah. Managing the sale all the way out here’s a pain, though. Margaret might hop to it if I mention it to her, but that girl’s got enough work as is. Whatever, you probably aren’t interested in boring adult stuff like that anyways.”

Whislash began digging through the pile of curios that had accumulated in her room. What did she buy? And why?

“Go ahead and take your pick. Most of this stuff ends up collecting dust anyways.”

Popukar timidly walked around the periphery of the hoard, as if it were guarded by a covetous dragon. She still couldn’t believe that Instructor Whislash was this generous, especially with how she was during training. She looked at the many items still wrapped in plastic and tape. A figurine from some comic book Spot liked to read, maybe he would like that. And then a few picture books. She could try reading them herself first, but maybe she could ask Orchid if they got too hard.

“Oh! I forgot I bought this.” Whislash pulled out a set of metal tools. “Gotta give this to Maria later. And this,” A collection of hardback books. A fantasy series, but the length of each one was equivalent to that of an encyclopedia. “Margaret used to beg me to get this series. I wonder if she remembers that.”

“You really love them, don’t you?” Popukar asked. Zofia turned to look at the girl, her arms laden with the gifts she had forgotten about. The Kuranta had a bittersweet smile on her face.

“Yeah. No doubt about that. For most of my life, I was thinking about those two. But now they’ve gone and found their own paths now. Goodness, the fact that I still have these is proof of that. This would’ve never slipped my mind when we were still together.”

“A-are you mad at each other?”

“Mad at each other? Haha. Maybe at a certain relative of ours, but that’s every day ending with -y.” Whislash chuckled. The fact that he was onboard occasionally still boggled her mind. She almost became the laughingstock among the instructors after he showed up to a training session once. Although it did feel good bossing him around during teamwork drills. “We’ve all got our own things we’re busy with. I can’t make heads or tails of the machines Maria works with. Margaret is busy handling the situation in Kazimierz. And neither of them have what it takes to train recruits. Also, you don’t hang out with A6 all the time, right?”

Popukar nodded. “Yeah. I sometimes play with Suzuran and Shamare.”

“There you go. We’ve got multiple friend groups.” Whislash set aside the things she had pulled out of her pile of stuff nonetheless. Next time the family got together, she promised herself. “They’ll never stay out of trouble, but at least they’ve found someplace that will help them get out of trouble. That’s a load off my shoulders.”

“Did you help out their mom?” Popukar asked innocently. Zofia bit her tongue. Orchid probably wasn’t briefed on the Nearl family’s situation. And odds were, she couldn’t convey it to Popukar either way.

“Their mom…she wasn’t around.” Zofia answered vaguely. “And their father wasn’t either.”

“Oh.” Popukar frowned. “So just like me then.”

“Uh, yes.” Zofia replied cautiously. She found herself kneeling down and patting Popukar on the head again.

“Did Nearl and Maria’s mom and dad go far away somewhere?”

Zofia nodded gravely.

“Maybe Rhodes Island can help find them. Doctor Kal’tsit and Doctor Ansel promised to help me find my parents.” Popukar offered cheerfully. There was certainly someone searching for the two of them. For that, Zofia couldn’t fault him. But she had other goals.

“I’d rather they help the two girls right now. After everything they went through, they need it.”

“Hmm…Miss Zofia, I got a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why do strong people always have missing parents?”

“Huh?”

“Miss Nearl. Me. A bunch of superheroes. The people in storybooks. They all don’t have parents.”

“I think that’s just for narrative effect. It makes you feel sorry for them. Or makes it more exciting when they can overcome the odds and find happiness.” Zofia knew how attractive an underdog story could be, at least until said underdogs rose too high. “Besides, it’s not like they were completely alone. They still had people that raised them. Most of the time. The lone wolves dip a bit too into the fantastical, in my opinion.”

“I don’t get it.”

Zofia laughed a little. One thing she liked about children, they were upfront when they don’t understand something. Unlike some people that hid behind a half-baked understanding and lied.

“Margaret and Maria still had me, their grandpa, and their uncle. And you, you have your team to help you, right? Not to mention all of Rhodes Island.”

“Oh yeah! A lot of the adults take time out of their work to play with us.” Popukar smiled as Zofia’s intentions finally dawned on her. But that left her with another question. She now knew that Nearl had an uncle, a grandpa, and a little sister. But what was Zofia to Nearl? When she asked this, Zofia suddenly got a bit shifty. Averting her gaze, hemming and hawing.

Eventually, the Kuranta madam just let out a sigh. Might as well get it over with. “I am, in terms of lineage, their…aunt.”

“But you don’t look that much older than them.”

“Because I’m not!” Zofia shouted, flustered and blushing. This caused Popukar to flinch back and cover her head with her hands.

“Sorry.” Zofia said softly. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice like that.”

Popukar looked up shyly, giving her a strained smile.

“It’s okay. I just got surprised. Hehe. You just sounded like you were doing training.”

“I guess I just default to that voice, huh?” Zofia sighed. “At least that might change now that I have some time for myself.”

“Time for yourself?”

“Yeah.” Zofia grinned. “Now that I don’t have to worry about the family or its members anymore, I finally have time to think about what I want to do with my life.”

“I thought you like being an instructor.”

“Sure, because I’m good at it. But life’s more than just what you do for a living, right? Loads of folks in Kazimierz need to remember that. Try new things, even if it doesn’t pan out. Even if there’s nothing constructive accomplished.”

The Kuranta stood up and opened her closet, which was cluttered with all manner of things. Half-finished paintings. Unfinished drafts. Half-completed model kits. Books with bookmarks and sticky notes, most of which never passed the first half. Movies she never saw that entered an increasingly large backlog. Games which she never found the time to actually play. She could only laugh self-deprecatingly. She had become known among the many enthusiasts here for her largess, offering to buy them whatever they wanted in exchange for a few recommendations. But really, it was just a way of repaying them for tolerating her taking an interest and then ghosting them.

“You see, the trick to being a renaissance woman is to take an interest in things, then lose focus halfway. But it’s nice to finally have the time to do that.”

Popukar’s eyes widened as she took a look at everything. But then, she suddenly became crestfallen. Almost ashamed of herself.

“What’s wrong?” Zofia asked worriedly. The little girl looked like she was about to cry again.

“Um, Miss Zofia? Do you think I’m getting in Miss Orchid’s way?”

“Huh? Where did this come from?” Zofia asked as she knelt down. Orchid and Popukar were practically inseparable. Family if there ever was one. Even people that had little patience for A6’s antics found the pair endearing.

“You seem so happy now because you can do fun things for yourself. Orchid used to complain about working the rat race. She said she hated it.”

“I can imagine that. Corporate life has a way of sucking the life out of you. Just ask Mlynar.” Zofia restrained herself to that one snide remark. Jokes clearly weren’t what the Cautus needed now. “But I don’t think Orchid resents you.”

“Really?” Popukar still seemed skeptical. “But, if she didn’t have to take care of me, she could be like you and do the things she wants. And all my team mates could as well.”

“Perhaps.” Zofia began, which momentarily made Popukar feel worse. “But, consider this. When you’re with them, has the mood ever gotten worse? Like they didn’t want you being there?”

The girl shook her head. Midnight and Catapult sometimes seemed panicked. Orchid was always calmer when she came by. And Spot was…sometimes happy. Sometimes concerned.

“You’re one of them, that’s never going to change. I don’t see Maria and Margaret nearly as much, but I love them all the same. Sometimes we argue. Sometimes we want to do things alone. But that doesn’t mean we want to stay away from each other forever. I think it’s the same for you, Orchid, and everyone else in your team.”

This made the little guard smile again, which was echoed on Whislash’s face.

“Plus, you’re still growing up. Us adults should make sure kids like you are happy and safe. It’s our duty.” Zofia said cheerfully as she ruffled Popukar’s hat and hair again. She got the girl a beanbag chair to sit in while she herself sat crosslegged on the floor. “Be a good girl and grow up well, yeah? That way, Orchid and the others won’t have to worry in the future.”

“Okay. Miss Zofia,” Popukar began shyly, “is it alright if I call you Auntie?”

The Kuranta sputtered a few times as she tried to process the request.

“You’ve been super nice to me today. I never had an auntie growing up, but if I did, I want her to be like you.”

Strangely enough, it didn’t feel as bad when Popukar said it. Maybe it was just the girl’s young age. After a little deliberation, Zofia nodded.

“If you feel like it, sure. Just promise not to call me that while working, okay? I can’t have the other operators thinking I play favorites.”

“I promise.” Popukar held out her pinkie, prompting Zofia to giggle as she locked her own with Popukar’s. “I still don’t get how you’re Nearl’s aunt though.

“Generations get weird when you have siblings that are years apart. Noble families are especially prone to that.”

“Miss Catapult told me about that. She called them, um, I don’t remember what she called them. Insects or something. And something about being really into bread?”

Whislash blinked a few times, desperately trying to hold back her chortles before she finally erupted into raucous laughter.

“T-that’s certainly a way to put it.” Zofia said as she wiped tears from her eyes. Popukar didn’t really understand why that was so funny, but Miss Zofia seemed happy.

“Don’t tell that joke to others, though. It’s really only funny to me.” The Kuranta noble said in between lingering chuckles.

“What’s so funny about it? Is it something mean? You shouldn’t laugh at other people.” Popukar said.

“Oh, I’d never laugh at the offspring of such affairs. Their lives are hard enough as is. But there have certainly been certain noble families that have tried to keep their holdings through rather dire measures. Thankfully, not us.”

“Can I ask a weird question?” Popukar warned. Whislash tilted her head slightly. She didn’t know whether she should brace herself for a completely out-there question or if it was the most mundane thing in the world. “In all the fairytales I read or listen to, the noble girls always have to marry someone they don’t know, and if they don’t they get locked in a tower or dungeon. Is that true?”

“Arranged marriages? Sure, for some families. It’s fallen out of vogue these days.” The pursuit of money and power certainly hasn’t, however. Arguably, it wasn’t just the nobles that did such things these days. She was hardly some starry-eyed maiden waiting for her one true love, but even she thought transactional marriages were something to be avoided like the plague.

“Um, did you…”

“Nope.” Whislash replied cheerfully. “Oh, there were plenty of would-be suitors back home, all of whom were more interested in my wealth or bloodline than me. I could tell by their glazed-over look whenever I opened my mouth to talk about anything other than business. But a few demonstrations with my whipsword turned them away, and the rest got the hint.”

“Wah! So you were doing that even before you became an instructor?”

Zofia let out an impish giggle. “Don’t worry, I’m quite merciful to you operators. After all, you lot are actually good people.”

“Were the people asking to marry you not good people?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call them bad people,” Whislash began, “but if they’re the type to commodify things like friendship and love, my advice would be to not give them the time of day. Trust me, you’ll be much happier if you do so.”

“Kay.” Popukar nodded obediently, Midnight had told her something similar once. She guessed he knew what that was like from his previous job. “But aren’t you lonely?”

“Huh? Why would I be? Just because I don’t have a special someone?” Zofia laughed, partially at herself, partially at the question. She might’ve been a little insecure, just a little bit. A minuscule amount. But coming here had given her a new perspective. A new world of possibilities that she hadn’t even explored yet. Having a partner was now much lower on her list of priorities.

“Friends, families, lovers; so long as you have the people you care about close to you and something you want to do with your life, what does it matter?”

---

“Ma-ri-a~ You’ve been pouting a lot more lately.” Zofia teased her niece by poking Maria’s puffed up cheek. “What’s wrong? Did someone in Engineering not let you watch them work?”

“No. It’s…nothing.” The younger Nearl sulked. Zofia sighed. She didn’t want to deal with a second phase of moodiness from Maria.

“You’re far too old to be acting like a teenage girl, again. Come on, if you have problems, tell me.”

“When we were eating lunch yesterday, that little Cautus girl walked up to you.”

“Popukar? She’s a cutey, isn’t she?”

“Sure, but…” Maria’s face was deadly serious. “Do you remember what she called you?”

“Hmm? Zofia. No sense using my codename when we’re not doing training or in the field.”

“No. She called you Auntie Zofia.”

“Oh yeah, she did.” Whislash grinned mischievously. Now she knew what was up.

“Why does she get to call you auntie but if I do it, I get in trouble?” Maria crossed her arms and pouted again.

“Because, dear,” Zofia tugged on Maria’s ear lightly, much to the younger Kuranta’s dismay, “she’s a little girl. You’re a grown woman. It’s fine for a little girl to call me auntie, but not someone your age.”

---

Subject: Regarding the addition of younger operators into existing teams

From: Doctor Kal’tsit

To: All Operators

Hello everyone,

Recently there seems to be a trend circulating among the combat division about the inclusion of, shall we say, younger operators into various squads. Many of whom are classified as minors. As I understand it, the objective is to coax a certainly leniency from the instructors, who may lighten training loads to compensate for the difference in capabilities between adults and children. Need I remind you that all operators, regardless of background or physicality, must be able to pass certain requirements, and must maintain their own abilities at or above such requirements at all times.

And perhaps more importantly, I would like to remind everyone that the various young operators we have in our employ are all unique cases, with many of them possessing certain destructive or unstable abilities that demand constant practice to control and stabilize. Since many of these abilities manifest themselves as Arts or martial prowess, the people best equipped to teach our operators to handle them responsibly and constructively are the combat instructors. In conclusion, they are patients first and foremost, whose condition requires unconventional policy.

Therefore, do not treat them as bargaining chips. While I know many such requests are born from lighthearted desires, similarities with those who have seen these children as tools to an end can be drawn. If the operators in question recognize this as well, that could jeopardize all we have done to help them.

-Doctor Kal’tsit

Subject: Addendum: Regarding the addition of younger operators into existing teams

From: Doctor Kal’tsit

To: All Operators

Following up from my previous announcement, it appears that some groups nonetheless have “adopted” certain younger operators as mascots. Since this seems to have a positive psychological effect for all parties involved, I am willing to permit it for the time being.

But always remind yourselves that they are persons first and foremost, not pets. They may not have the experience that naturally comes with age, but they are capable of thoughts and emotions all the same. And that we, as adults, have a duty to guide and protect them. So long as those terms are met, then I am not opposed to such practices.

-Doctor Kal’tsit

The lynx sighed as she hit send. Hopefully that would keep them in check. She debated whether or not to send this to the rest of the staff, along with the patients as well. There were plenty here who had severed ties with their blood relatives. Infected or otherwise. Coupled with the wide age range of people on board, it was not uncommon for impromptu quasi-families to emerge. For the most part, that served as an invaluable support network for the many residents on board. An effective way to combat the isolation and ostracization many faced. A chance to start again.

“Doctor Kal’tsit!” The voice of a familiar Cautus roused her from her thoughts. Amiya stood in front of her desk, hugging a folder full of documents.

“Here’s the paperwork for all the new patients we took in.”

“Thank you, Amiya.” The Feline took the folder and briefly skimmed through it, gauging how much time she would have to spend.

“Um, you’re not thinking about staying up late to get all that done, are you?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Hah. I know I can’t stop you.” Amiya admitted in a defeated tone, before perking up. “But, if you do decide to pull another all-nighter, why don’t we get dinner together first?”

“I have all I need right here.” Kal’tsit pointed to a minifridge full of nutrition cubes. This made Amiya frown angrily.

“No good, Doctor Kal’tsit. You have to get real food into your system.” The young Cautus pulled on the Feline’s coat, tugging her into the halls. Which caused more than a few doctors and medics to gawk at the display.

“Amiya, I do not require your guidance.” The Cautus let go, but then shuffled to put herself between Kal’tsit and her office again. The Feline sighed, and give a rare smirk. Doing this every once in a while was fine. She supposed even she needed a break from work every now and again.

---

Chapter Text

“That’s bold.” Orchid stared at the sketch, dumbfounded by what she saw.

“But she would look good in it, don’t you think?” Bibeak replied confidently.

“I mean, yeah, but…”

“She’d never wear it.” GreyThroat said.

“But maybe we could convince someone to convince her?” Bibeak suggested.

“Like Amiya?” Orchid said.

“Absolutely not. Don’t drag her into this.” GreyThroat cut them off. Amiya had far too much on her plate to deal with antics like this. No matter how hilarious the image of Kal’tsit in a miniskirt would be. The sketch Bibeak held up didn’t do justice to what GreyThroat envisioned in her head.

Bibeak looked down at her feet, seemingly ashamed of a suggestion she didn’t even make.

“Hey, it was my idea to rope Amiya into this, no need to beat yourself up.”

“Oh? That? No, it’s not that. Um…” Bibeak glanced up at GreyThroat for a brief moment, enough to see the sniper maintaining her usual stern countenance.

GreyThroat turned to Orchid and whispered, “Was it something I said?”

“Uh, kinda. But also…” Orchid sighed. A6 was a cakewalk to deal with compared to these two. Her own team was rambunctious enough that yelling at them was usually an acceptable response. These two, though? A shy wallflower and a standoffish loner. Taciturn as they get. To think, she expected this to be easier than wrangling those clowns.

“Um, Miss GreyThroat,” Bibeak began shyly. She pinched the hem of her sleeve, running her fingertips along the trim. “are you uncomfortable?”

Orchid choked back a gasp. She and Bibeak had heard more than a few nasty rumors about the girl. Orchid tried to ignore them, rumors being rumors and all. The fact that the girl was friends with Blaze of all people meant they probably weren’t true.

“No.” GreyThroat bluntly replied.

“Oh, that’s good to here. I thought you’ve been frowning the entire time.”

“Have I?” GreyThroat tilted her head slightly.

“I think she’s just naturally like that.” Orchid let out a tired chuckle. “Kinda like how I am.”

“I see.” Bibeak tried to look GreyThroat in the eye again. No good, the sniper’s steely gaze was too much. “I’m sorry for being such a bad host.”

“You’ve been doing fine.” GreyThroat replied as bluntly as ever. This finally got Bibeak to relax, just a little. “I signed up for this…because I wanted to learn.”

“Learn? Figured people would use this to make friends.” Orchid remarked. While she was here to get away from her usual colleagues.

“That’s what I meant.” GreyThroat looked around the room. At the piles of unfolded fabric and messy sketches. The sewing kit left out in the open, the machine still spooled while a half-finished project rested on it.

“Do you mind if I clean up?” GreyThroat asked. Bibeak gasped and hid her blushing face.

“S-sorry.” Bibeak muttered. “I’m not used to cleaning up after myself.”

“Then let me help.” GreyThroat offered. The sniper began folding up the fabric, putting them wherever Bibeak told her to. Bibeak in the meanwhile, carefully picked up the needles and scissors left on her desk and put them back into a box.

“So, who cleaned your room back at home? Your parents?” Orchid asked.

“The family maids did.” Bibeak replied casually.

“Ah, one of those types.” Orchid muttered under her breath.

“One of what types?” GreyThroat asked, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. Bibeak turned their way, confused at Orchid’s panic.

“Sorry, I blurted that out without thinking.” Orchid said softly. Bibeak laughed it off.

“I’ve certainly heard that before. I won’t lie, having to live by myself has certainly taught me that I lack many skills.” Bibeak admitted as she stacked her plastic sewing kit precariously into a cupboard. When the thing finally came to rest, it was diagonal, all the spools and needles clumping up at whatever bottom corner they were in. GreyThroat, fed up with how disorganized the cupboard was, took everything out and then began meticulously stacking everything herself. Starting with the heaviest and largest at the bottom and then working her way from there.

“Do it this way in the future, and you won’t have to worry about things falling down or being crushed.” The sniper said as Bibeak listened attentively. “It’ll also be easier to get things at the bottom.”

“I see. Thank you for the advice.”

“When you stay in your room all day, you get good at these things.”

“You’re like that as well?” Bibeak asked. Perhaps Bibeak had misjudged GreyThroat. She thought that the wall GreyThroat had in place was due to their differences in lifestyle. All of them were operators, but only GreyThroat could claim that fighting was her main talent. But perhaps the sniper was just as bad at dealing with people as her.

“Yes.” The sniper opened her mouth briefly, before closing it again. These days, she at least knew when to keep quiet sometimes.

“I’m not a talker.” GreyThroat said evasively.

“Neither am I.” Bibeak smiled shyly.

Orchid stepped aside, letting the two recluses socialize. If the occasional short reply to each other could be called that. But they seemed to be enjoying themselves as they sorted Bibeak’s shelves together. She, on the other hand, looked through the seamstress’s designs again.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t have a tinge of envy. She had her own ideas, but she always thought they lacked something. Or maybe she couldn’t get her old teacher’s words out of her head. And here was this girl, who could, after just looking at a person, create on a whim. Orchid had skill, sure. But Bibeak was born to do this. The closest she ever got was writing for a fashion magazine. A commentator, not a creator.

Well, she did have a shot here with Penny. But…she blew it. She let out a sigh, almost glad the other two were still chatting away. Trying to take her mind off her own problems, she idly traced the edge of one of Bibeak’s fabrics. The girl had good taste in materials. This one, though, stuck out to her. A bright yellow weave that shimmered in the light.

“Bibeak, is this Kevlar?” She asked. This got the guard’s attention.

“Yes. I’ve been experimenting with using aramids.” Bibeak replied. “They’ve dulled more than a few scissors and knives I have. I had to import ceramic ones to cut them.”

“If they’re such a pain, why bother?” GreyThroat asked.

“I want to be helpful.” Bibeak picked up more sketches. These ones drawn differently from the normal style people knew her for. Waistcoats. Athletic wear. Although there were still a few gown and dress designs, clearly taking inspiration from tabards and surcoats of antiquity. “The outfits that I make, the operators always say that it’s a shame that can’t wear them a lot of the time. Since they’re not really suited for conditions in the field. I wanted to change that.”

“And I can imagine you got tired of having your own outfit get ripped in the field.” Orchid said. She was unfortunately used to that. She knew everyone on her team, save Popukar for obvious reasons, could mend their own clothes. And yet they still insisted she do it for them.

“Battlefield damage is inevitable.” GreyThroat added.

“But, your clothes are always so neat. After a fight or training, I always see you scrubbing off all the dust.” Bibeak remarked.

“Dirty clothes are an infection risk.” Orchid waited for the sniper to clarify, or for Bibeak to ask anyways.

“I see. Yes, my mother always told me to not wear dirty clothes. That they would make me sick.” Bibeak smiled innocently. “And my father would always tell me to not let a stain set in, lest it ruin the fabric.”

“Your parents.” GreyThroat mumbled. She hid her sadness, just as she always did. But Orchid could see the way her eyes became slightly less focused.

“Oh yeah.” Orchid stepped in. “You told me your father works for Raythean, right?”

“He makes weapons?” GreyThroat asked.

“N-no. It’s not like that.” Bibeak protested as she took out a catalog of mostly sports and outdoorswear. Some of it looked familiar. Like toned down versions of the Pioneer and Striker series clothing Rhodes Island bought in bulk. But the outfits GreyThroat saw weren’t nearly as protective. Or pricey.

“The line between sportswear and military wear isn’t that big.” Orchid began. Even if her personal experience with fashion was limited, her personal experience with the fashion industry wasn’t. “And the materials used are often identical. So it’s no surprise that Raythean would venture into the civilian market. And they can market their inventory as being designed with the harshest environments in mind.”

“Although these are meant to be eyecatching as well.” Bibeak said. Compared to the muted or industrial colors GreyThroat associated with Raythean clothing, the ones in the catalog were loud. Bright neon shades and intricate patterns dominated the canvas of clothing. Some sporting warm pastels and floral prints as well. If she ever wore these in the field, she’d just be painting a target on herself. Then again, she had Blaze to do that for her anyways.

“Truth be told, I actually asked my father for help when I was first designing these new outfits.” Bibeak sheepishly admitted. She looked back at her desk, at the many letters her father had handwritten to her.

“He’s fine with his babygirl making armor?” Orchid asked. Bibeak nodded back.

“He was the one who insisted I learn to use a sword to begin with. Heheh. Most of his disagreements seem to stem from modern aesthetics than anything else.”

“Ah, he’s an old-fashioned type.”

“Yes. Um…” Bibeak stared at some of her designs again. Effectively older style protective clothing, but made with modern materials. “I’m still not quite good enough to deviate from the design yet, thinking about protection is such a different mentality than what I’m used to. But I want to one day create something that’s innovative, in functionality and looks.”

“Try asking Engineering.” GreyThroat said suddenly. “Learn to make armor from the armorers.”

Bibeak hesitated. She had thought about it before. Her understanding of textiles was vast, but rooted in tradition. There were plenty of people who probably have a better idea than her about how to make use of things. But actually striking conversation with them was intimidating.

“Just ask them what materials work best for fighting. That will get them started.” GreyThroat said. “Just be prepared for them to never stop.”

“Heh. Personal experience?”

“They like their work. They like sharing what they know. But they’re as bad as me when it comes to thinking about others.”

“In other words, they’re nerds.” Orchid joked. She’s certain even the dumbest member of Engineering was smarter than her. Most of them thankfully weren’t insufferable about it, but when they got an idea, they’ll prattle on to whomever was willing to listen. She once took a peak at the Engineering forums on the landship’s network. That might be the only place where walls of text was the expectation.

“If you can’t stomach that, Vulcan is one of the quieter ones.” GreyThroat suggested. “Just make sure Kay’s somewhere else.”

“I think I’ll try one of the others.” Bibeak replied. Truth be told, she was more worried she’d never get Vulcan’s attention if the smith was busy. She didn’t like yelling much.

Orchid pulled up her sleeve to look at her watch.

“If you don’t have anything else to show us, we should probably switch venues soon.” Orchid said. Bibeak took one last look around. Finding nothing, she shook her head lightly.

“Alright, wanna volunteer?” Orchid asked. The sniper she was making the suggestion to completely ignored her, staring blankly at Orchid, who clicked her tongue. “Alright. Guess I’m going.”

As Orchid and GreyThroat walked out of Bibeak’s bedroom, she lingered inside. She let out a sigh of relief. That was the longest anyone had been in here for anything other than business. To think that, when she first arrived, this was where she would lock herself in to avoid interacting with other people. She should write a letter to her parents after this.

---

“It seems Popukar’s already been in here.” Orchid rubbed her temple as she looked at all the things scattered on the floor. That was their natural state of being, but for a brief window of time, the place was actually neat.

“Want me to clean up here as well?” GreyThroat offered.

“Nah. She’ll just get confused where everything went. It doesn’t look like it, but that tyke knows where her stuff is. Ask her for a specific toy, for example, and she’ll home right in on it.”

Orchid set her laptop down on her desk, next to her fabrics and notes. The fabrics weren’t as big as what Bibeak had. Orchid never intended to make things herself, after all. They were sample squares, meant to give clothiers a feel for what they would be working with. Too small to make anything bigger than a handkerchief.

“This is…wool.” Bibeak muttered as she touched a red-purple fabric square. “Ah, but it’s Siracusan purple. Is this authentic, or a synthetic replica?”

“Modern, we don’t have enough sea snails to make the real deal. I know someone here that likes experimenting with dyes. It took them forever to get the hue right.”

“Did you help them?”

“Kinda sorta. I knew enough about art history to give them a few tidbits. The exact shade, for example, varies.” Orchid said. For once, her fallback major was actually useful. “But they did all the heavy lifting. I still don’t know why they were so thankful for my help.”

“You’re the premier fashion consultant here.” GreyThroat answered.

“That may be the case, but…” Orchid sighed as she looked at Bibeak inspecting the different materials laying around. Yanese silks. Victorian cloths. Columbian composites. Anything that caught Orchid’s interest, she bought at least a sample. What she could afford. For some, a square the size of her hand could buy an entire roll of common cloth. But ultimately, she didn’t really know what to do with them. She could come up with all the ideas about how to make them work, but it never amounted to much. Not like Bibeak. The guard even had a class where she taught children to sew. Meanwhile, Orchid only stitched up her team’s clothes.

“You’re easier to find than her.”

“Not to mention they probably want your advice on what to buy.” Bibeak added. “I’m still bad when people approach me. I don’t like being put on the spot. Even when they write or email me a request, I sometimes can’t find the courage to read it for a whole week. I wish I could handle it as well as you do, Miss Orchid.”

Orchid scoffed bashfully. “Alright, that’s enough of that. No need to puff me up like I’m some sort of superstar. Come here, you two get a sneak peak at how I organize my advice.”

The supporter pulled up a series of folders on her laptop. Requests and questions organized by name. She pulled up one as an example. Inside was a copy of the email sent to her along with some pictures of the person in question. Then a few pictures Orchid had scanned of outfits that she thought would look good on them.

“That’s quite extensive.” Bibeak muttered in awe. She felt like an amateur compared to Orchid. No matter how good her creations were, it didn’t change the fact that most were made in the moment. If Orchid ever chose to, she could probably start her own brand. Considering how many people took after her here, that might already be a reality.

“It’s not much.” Orchid said. “If people ask for help, the least I could do is give it my all. How little that is.”

“I’d hardly call this little.” GreyThroat commented. She seldom saw a message Orchid wrote that wasn’t at least a paragraph in length. Or didn’t include a few pictures. Or even sketches. “That’s a lot of thought for each person.”

“I suppose.” Orchid closed the folders, and then stared at the almost filled data bar. “I’m gonna need another drive soon. I have too many pictures saved.”

“You have all your paperwork saved as well.” GreyThroat noted. She personally let HR handle all of that for her.

“In separate drives. On the cloud. And on paper.” Orchid pulled out one of her desk drawers. Inside was a manila folder labeled “ID and Contract Forms.”

“That’s a bit excessive.” Bibeak remarked. Orchid looked at her with a dead serious expression.

“You two have been lucky enough to not deal with overbearing bosses or companies then.” Orchid lectured them in a weary voice. “Call it trauma from my days as an office drone. One misplaced file, and suddenly your entire evening is wasted getting chewed out and fixing everything.”

“Is life better here?” GreyThroat asked. Orchid swiveled around in her chair to look at the sniper staring at her.

“Terminal illness aside, yes.” Orchid answered bluntly. Bibeak put her hands to her own mouth. GreyThroat was completely unperturbed by the added caveat.

“Mind you, even if I wasn’t sick, I could see myself coming here anyways. Beats working the average 9-to-5.”

“You were a civilian before this, why join the combat team? We work far longer than an eight hour shift most days.”

“The same could be asked about you, GreyThroat.” Orchid countered.

“I grew up here. And I’m not good at anything.”

“You grew up here?” Bibeak asked.

“Is that so strange?”

“N-no. Um…I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

“Amiya insisted I apply. Plus, I didn’t want to just take up space all my life.”

“In that case, we’re peas in a pod. I needed a job to pay for treatment, and I didn’t want to get stuck behind a desk all day again. I had decent Arts capabilities, so one thing led to another.”

“I didn’t take you for an adrenaline junkie.”

Orchid scoffed at GreyThroat’s remark. Adrenaline junkie? Her? Oh no. Quite frankly, the fights Rhodes Island kept finding itself in terrified her. Sure, they promised that Reserve Ops teams like hers would never be in anything dangerous. But if their fights could be considered the thin of it, she really did not want to see what the thick of it was.

“You’re still not one to talk. Out of the three of us, who can keep up with the elite ops?”

“Only one of them. And only because she’s the dumbest out of all of them.” Orchid chuckled under her breath. GreyThroat and Blaze must be very close. There’s no way Orchid could ever get away with calling the big cat dumb, let alone the dumbest.

“I heard you also get to lead your own team.” Bibeak said. GreyThroat shrugged.

“Only sometimes. Not like they listen to me. And it’s not like they need to.”

“You’re underselling yourself. Even the rowdiest team needs someone to make the final call when the chips are down.” Orchid certainly knew that much. When Arts start flying and swords start clashing, her words became law. In any other instance, they unfortunately aren’t worth the air they travel through.

“I wouldn’t mind being on your team.” Bibeak said. The sniper looked at her again. Bibeak managed to maintain eye contact this time. “I always feel out of place when my squadmates are chatting away and I have nothing to add. So having someone that gives me orders clearly wouldn’t be a bad change of pace.”

“I’ll consider it. But are you sure you can handle the sorties I’m deployed to?”

“I-I can try.”

“Trying is not enough.” GreyThroat said cynically. She had seen enough people that tried and failed.

“I know that. But…” Bibeak’s voice was quiet, but firm. She fiddled with the infection monitor around her neck. “Orchid, did I ever tell you how I got infected?”

Orchid shook her head. The supporter did not like where this was going, but she kept listening quietly.

“I was walking home one day, and I got stuck in a protest. At some point, it turned violent and someone struck me with a piece of originium.”

Bibeak paused, waiting to see if GreyThroat reacted in any way. The shift in the sniper’s demeanor was nearly unnoticeable. A slight frown, her eyes slightly less sharp than usual. A microscopic relaxing of her shoulders. Not the visceral reaction Bibeak worried would occur, but that was a good thing. The seamstress moved a hand to where her scabbard would normally be, grasping at her muscle memory’s impression of her hilt.

“My swordsmanship, if you haven’t noticed, is more ceremonial than practical. It was meant to serve as a form of expression. When I first got here, I let it rest beneath my bed. I couldn’t stand the sight of it because I was scared. Scared that, whenever I swung it at someone, I would envision those rioters instead.”

“Do you still hate them?” GreyThroat asked. In a way, she was asking herself that question as well.

“I can’t say I don’t.” Bibeak admitted. “But I realized that holding onto that resentment, that hatred, no matter how just, won’t do anything for me. Hating them will not make my sickness easier to deal with. And the clothes I make, I want them to bring joy to people. I can’t do that by pouring my sorrow and anger into my work.”

“And the same for your swordplay?” GreyThroat asked. Bibeak nodded with conviction.

“When I pick up my sword, I think to myself: How can I prevent that tragedy from happening again?” The sniper sighed. Bibeak was still inexperienced, all things considered. But her answer, it sounded very familiar.

“If there’s a safe enough assignment, I’ll consider it.” GreyThroat conceded, to which Bibeak smiled. “But we’re doing joint training first. I don’t want any confusion in the field.”

Orchid slumped back in her chair. Sure, this display of mutual understanding was heartwarming. But seeing two younger women talk like that just made her feel bad about herself. These two girls weren’t spoiled brats. Well, Bibeak sort of was, but that wasn’t the point. They were dealt shitty hands in life, and they could still find the grit to keep clawing upwards. And here she was, giving up the moment the going gets a little bit tough.

“Did we upset you somehow?” GreyThroat’s voice stirred Orchid from her sulking.

“Not you in particular.” Orchid waved her off. “Do you two ever get a little pissed off with the others here? How talented and driven they all are? I know it’s bad to envy people who have definitely had it worse than me, but when you’ve lived a half-assed life like me, it makes you feel a little inadequate.”

“I’m sure there are many who are envious of you, Miss Orchid.” Bibeak said. “Me, for example. Um, I would love to have companions of my own. Maybe not like yours, but a small circle of friends to spend the days with.”

“Ha! I’m not sure whether I should take that as a compliment or not.”

“You’re still alive.” GreyThroat said. “Any failure that doesn’t change that shouldn’t discourage you.”

“Never took you for a self-help writer. That wouldn’t be out of place in the advice columns.” Orchid joked.

“It’s not that.” GreyThroat let out a sigh. A rare show of frustration. She was annoyed at her own inability to communicate things. Suddenly, she began walking towards the door.

“G-greyThroat!” Bibeak grabbed the sniper’s hand without thinking. Orchid clenched her jaw. This wouldn’t end well. The seamstress, having finally realized what she just did, withdrew her hand immediately. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” GreyThroat asked. The sniper put her hand on her hip, Bibeak and Orchid analyzing every little movement. “I’m no good with words. Amiya once told me that sometimes stories help convey feelings better. But to do so, I need references. In my room.”

The sniper waited for her companions to get the hint. Eventually, Orchid powered down her laptop and walked outside her bedroom.

“Shall we?” Orchid said. Somehow, she ended up being the leader again. Maybe she had a knack for it.

---

With all the rumors flying around about the sniper, Bibeak and Orchid had assumed she would have a room shunted away from everyone else’s. Protected by who knows how many countermeasures. But there they were, in the middle of an ordinary hallway in the dormitories as GreyThroat punched in her code.

“Do we need to do anything?” Bibeak asked.

“I’m not Weedy.” GreyThroat bluntly replied as her door swished open.

The sniper’s room was surprisingly busy. On her desk, her usual crossbow and a bevy of maintenance tools. On her bed, stacks of old battle reports and records. Along with sharpshooting and tactics manuals lining her shelves. Even a few pieces of training equipment, like barbells and resistance bands, rested neatly on the floor.

“Is this what it takes to be a full-fledged operator?” Bibeak asked. Perhaps she shouldn’t have volunteered to fight alongside the sniper so readily. But GreyThroat shook her head.

“I told you before, I’ve got no talent for fighting. So I have to work twice as hard to keep up.” The sniper looked somberly at her bed. At the sheets that were seldom used to cover herself. The pillow that she barely rested her head on. “Besides, the more work I have, the more I can occupy myself. The more tired I get, the easier it is to sleep without dreams.”

“Oh.” Bibeak knew what that was like. When she first got infected, she would spend every waking moment sewing or crafting. Even if what she made was just pointless busywork. Anything to occupy her body and mind, until one or the other gave.

“I didn’t take you for a drinker.” Orchid said. Near the bathroom, against the wall, was a small pyramid of empty beer cans, five at the bottom. Thankfully, it seemed like all the cans were washed out of any lingering residue.

“Blaze keeps leaving those here. I keep a running tab to remind her to leave her litter elsewhere.” GreyThroat replied sharply. Orchid laughed. That would probably have the opposite effect on Blaze. She wondered how high the pyramid would get before GreyThroat just threw it all out.

The sniper turned to look at Bibeak, who was peeking through her wardrobe.

“Did something catch your eye?” This caused Bibeak to jump a little as she slammed the wardrobe door shut.

“A little. While looking through your clothes, I didn’t realize how, um, bold they were.”

“They are?”

“Yes. Normally, I can’t tell because you wear capes and overcoats. But…” Bibeak opened the wardrobe again, revealing sleeveless shirts and short skirts and leggings. Some of them quite daring, including a dress with a sideslit that went all the way to the chest.

“Damn. Even I’m not brave enough to pull that off.” Orchid said.

“I wear what Rhodes Island has available.” GreyThroat said. She didn’t think her attire was that odd. Then again, maybe being around that Feline had warped her perception of things.

“You said before you’ve been here for a long time, right?” Orchid started. GreyThroat nodded as she reached up to retrieve a lockbox from the top of her wardrobe.

“Since I was young. It’s a long story. And a sad one.” She said as she began slowly unlatching it. Many people’s were. Given the nature of the organization, few sought it out happily.

Sitting on her bed, creasing some of the papers underneath her, GreyThroat opened the box and showed it to Bibeak and Orchid. A broken scalpel, the metal dull and chipped. An old teddy bear. A lamp meant to hold a candle. A folded note, the edges creased from the many times it’s been held and read.

And an old photograph, the people therein almost faded away. Three of them. A man. A woman. And a little girl.

“Are these?” Bibeak began.

“My parents and I.” GreyThroat said as she closed the box and sit it aside with care. She took a deep breath. “They were oripathy researchers.”

“That explains your connection here.” Orchid said. “But were?”

“My father was killed.” GreyThroat answered grimly. “By the very people he was trying to help.”

Even Orchid was stunned speechless. GreyThroat clenched her bed sheets, the anger of her past boiling up again. She took another deep breath, she refused to be consumed by it any longer. But she had to acknowledge it was still there.

“After that, my mother brought me here. And then she left. Why? No one knows.” She squinted. Green-eyed monster would be an apt description for the emotions running through her. Only there wasn’t envy in her eyes, there was rage. And grief. “I saw the people I knew, some of them I even played with just the day before, turn into an angry mob. I saw them smash windows and set things on fire. I saw them drag my father away. Do you know what I think about them? Even after all these years?”

Her two companions stayed silent, waiting breathlessly.

“Ungrateful bastards.”

She spat out those venomous words. But those two words were everything Bibeak and Orchid needed to slot everything into place. Why the rumors about the snipers existed. Why some of their seniors felt annoyed at having GreyThroat around.

The sniper let out a long, tired sigh as her grip on her own sheets loosened.

“At some point, my feelings towards those people mutated into my feelings towards all infected. And perhaps, to myself. Every time I met another infected. Every time I was at risk of infection, I was worried we would turn out like them. Loosing ourselves to madness. Hurting the people that cared for us. As if oripathy could somehow do that.” She confided as she stared at her arms, the painful memory of that day lingering back. Her arms bloodied as she scraped them clean with sandpaper. The logical part of her mind said that such a fear was so silly, but deep down, a part of her was still revolted at the idea.

“Perhaps, when I lived here initially, that worry did turn me into that sort of person. But fighting for Rhodes Island has allowed me to see things differently.” She looked at Bibeak, remembering the seamstress’s words from just a little while ago. “Enough to know that people don’t change just because they get infected. Enough to know that I can make things better if I choose to.”

“That makes all the time you spend in Medical a lot more understandable now.” Orchid said softly. The supporter thought back to when an HR employee vented to her about the sniper’s constant requests for repeated check-ups. Along with copies of all the results. As she told GreyThroat about this, the sniper let out a rare chuckle.

“I suppose I have made life for the doctors here difficult.” She glanced aside at an old stack of papers underneath her crossbow. Her old medical reports that she now used to cover her desk, stained with oil and dirt and paint from her maintenance. “I have changed, though.”

“Really? Even though people still complain about how many tests they have to run on you?” Orchid teased.

“I’m still afraid of getting sick.” GreyThroat admitted. “But that’s everyone, isn’t it? If it’s not oripathy, then it’s the flu. Or some plague. Or perhaps venereal – sorry. I’ve been hanging around that vulgar Feline for too long.”

“How did that come up?” Orchid asked.

“When I was waiting for one of my test results, one of the other operators mocked me for it. Blaze stepped in and pointed out they were waiting anxiously for test results of their own. They turned red after that. My point is, everyone is afraid of pain.”

“But what would happen if you do end up infected?” Bibeak asked.

“I would be sad. The same way anyone would. But I won’t let that get in the way of helping others. I won’t let it get in the way of protecting others.” GreyThroat answered resolutely. In the past, a life after infection wasn’t a thing she thought about in the slightest. All her anxieties were channeled towards avoiding that entirely. Looking at it now with a clear head, she really should’ve spent more time thinking about oripathy as a very real possibility she would have to come to terms with, rather than something she could run away from forever.

“There’s actually one more thing.” GreyThroat sifted through the papers, some of which were now creased after she sat on them. She pulled out what looked to be standard Rhodes Island mission reports. Orchid involuntarily scrunched her face at the sight of them, too used to filling them out on behalf of her entire team. Many of them were scribbled on by GreyThroat in red ink. The sniper had circled some parts. Labeled others as “inconclusive.” And then noted false leads or dead ends.

“What’s this for?” Bibeak asked as she looked through them.

“I said before that my mother disappeared after leaving me here. I want to find her.”

“Are you even sure she’s still alive?” Orchid asked cautiously.

“No. When she left, her eyes were clouded with madness. A different kind than the rioters, but I could tell she wasn’t entirely there. But, if there’s even a slim chance she’s still out there, I want to help her. To save her.”

“That’s…quite the mission.” Bibeak muttered. Finding a missing parent after they dropped off the face of the Earth was like something out of a storybook. And the sniper was already busy enough with her own duties as well. She figured Orchid would try to talk GreyThroat out of it.

“Why don’t I help you?” Orchid said, much to Bibeak’s surprise. “I’ll admit, I don’t know shit about tracking. And I wouldn’t consider myself even an amateur sleuth. But I know people here that are both. A few consultations or whatever, and I can get them to at least spare their free time.”

GreyThroat raised an eyebrow. Most people on board considered her search a wild goose chase at best. The only people that seemed up for it were Amiya and Blaze. Amiya, she expected. As for Blaze, the two of them had a shared struggle in this regard.

“Let’s just say your story moved me, is all.” Orchid deflected. In truth, she was saddled with another situation that she knew she could at least contribute something to. And this time, even if it resulted in nothing, she at least couldn’t beat herself up over it.

“Then why don’t I help as well? On top of consultation, I could maybe make something.” Bibeak offered. “I could make some of your ideas a reality, Orchid.”

“Huh?! Um, are you sure?” Orchid said in a wavering voice.

“Of course. I’ve seen your sketches. There are some really good ideas. And with the two of us working together, it should be much easier.”

Orchid hesitated for a moment, before giving in and nodding.

“Thank you, you two.” GreyThroat gave them a rare smile that lit up the room. “I unfortunately don’t have any way to pay you two.”

“Then why don’t you model for us?” Bibeak suggested. “I’m sure we could make something that would bring out your charm.”

“Now that’s gonna be a challenge.” Orchid grumbled. Nonetheless, she could feel a grin creeping onto her face. Considering what GreyThroat usually wore, she could be a little bolder than usual. “But what the hell? In for a penny, in for a pound.”

“Uh, umm…” GreyThroat blushed a little, realizing exactly what she just signed up for. But, it wasn’t solely a bad thing. She wanted to see new horizons, and here was one.

---

“How the hell does Orchid put up with this!?” Catapult howled as she slammed her fists down. She got one line into writing a report and it already bored her.

“We could always offload it onto Midnight. He’s the one that actually ran a business.” Spot offered. He didn’t feel like contributing, even though he could probably do it in ten minutes or so. Instead, he polished his already immaculate shield, watching Catapult squirm. Their esteemed leader was busy with her own personal projects at the moment, leaving the administrative duties the team had to deal with to the rest.

Or rather, that’s how Catapult framed it to anyone that asked. Surely no one expected them to actually submit anything detailed, but the Kuranta took it upon herself, begrudgingly. Allegedly.

“I’m sure you could ask Orchid for advice on how to write these. She has it down pat.” Spot snarked.

Catapult groaned as she put her hands on the keyboard again. “Not a chance. She’ll yell at me for being incapable again.”

“And you don’t want to bother her.” Spot muttered under his breath. Kuranta turned her head back to glare at him. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Right.”

---

Subject: A certain Liberi’s access to those files

From: Warfarin

To: Doctor, Amiya, Blaze

Doctor Kal’tsit was already primed on this matter, but you three interact with GreyThroat significantly more than either of us these days. And she seldom shows up in my lab. Yesterday was the first time she’s done so in a while. Coming in and asking me about some old research notes from years ago. I’m shocked we remembered to digitize them. The physical copies are either long gone or buried in the back of some filing cabinet somewhere.

We’ve made mountains of progress over the years. A lot of their notes were pure conjecture based on limited data. One study they did only had a sample of about five people. Five. The treatments proposed are similar to ours from a foundational standpoint, but we’ve obviously refined the processes. Nonetheless, they were onto a lot of things. If they were still around today, who knows what they would’ve come up with.

But that’s enough about hypotheticals. It’s clear she doesn’t understand any of it. She might bombard the Doctor with questions later, she certainly did it with me. I’m not exactly good at the therapy side of things, but I suppose this is her way of confronting the past. Anyways, make sure to keep Medical posted on any changes to her overall physical and mental wellbeing.

-Warfarin

---

“Yo, Angie!” Utage hugged the Vulpo from behind. “Watcha got there?”

“Bibeak just posted a new shoot to the network.” Angelina showed her phone to Utage.

“No kidding?” Utage hummed happily to herself as she looked at whatever pictures the Liberi had posted. “New model as well? Wonder how she got this one. And woah! That’s one short skirt.”

“I know, right?” The two of them first focused on the generous amount of leg the model was showing. But then their gaze was fixed on the model’s face. “Do you think she’s an operator? She’s got the physique of one.”

“Uh, that look, do ya think it’s intentional?” Utage asked. The Liberi in the photograph was…frowning? Glaring? It was hard to tell. Not smiling at least. “One hell of an evil eye.”

“I mean, it does kinda work for her, doesn’t it?” Angelina said. “She’s got that aloof mystique to her.”

“I guess so. I could see her sitting in the corner of a bar.”

“Hey, girls!” A loud and familiar Feline snuck up behind the two and wrapped her arms around each one. “What’s going on?”

“Hehe. Check this out, Blaze. Doesn’t the model here look pretty?” Utage asked teasingly.

“Let me take a loo-what?” The Feline stared at the image on her screen. Heatwaves escaped from her ears as her mind struggled to comprehend what her eyes were seeing. “Hey, Utage. Pinch me. As hard as you can.”

“On it!”

Blaze screamed as Utage left a bright red welt on the Feline’s shoulder. After a few hard blinks, Blaze stared at the photos again. Nope. Still the same person. She sighed. She’ll ask GreyThroat about it later.

---

Chapter Text

“This one’s been aged for about two years.” Quercus held up a bottle of wine. After setting it down on a table, she whisked another one out of her many travel bags, no doubt laden with gifts for everyone on the landship. “And this one’s aged for fifteen years. Go ahead, take your pick.”

“Hmm.” Dobermann put a hand under her chin as she mulled over the decision. Eventually, she decided on the younger wine. The specifics were lost to her, and trying to get the scientists on board to verify the many opinions on board about aging wines gave her a headache. So she’ll just use personal preference.

“I thought the custom is for guests to leave a housewarming present.” Tachanka joked as he set down a plastic container. Inside was a light brown layer cake he had spent most of last evening baking in preparation. Dobermann eyed the snack in the corner of her eye as she set her bottle of wine aside. “Don’t worry, Instructor. I made you some as well. You can enjoy it with your wine later.”

Quercus pried open the plastic lid to take a peek at Tachanka’s present. It was nice getting something once in a while. She just didn’t make a big fuss over it since she’d be buried in gifts if she expected everyone to reciprocate. And people here certainly tried anyways.

“This is…An Ursus dessert?”

Tachanka scratched the back of his head. The man wore nothing covering his face, a rare occasion. Even Quercus had trouble recognizing him when they met up this morning. A few of the other operators had a lighthearted laugh at that.

That Quercus, who could remember everyone after seeing them in the halls once, couldn’t recognize the big man of Rainbow Team.

“Something like that.” Tachanka replied evasively. “It’s Medovik. Honey cake.”

“I suppose it’s a good companion for drinking then.” Dobermann commented. A dessert without chocolate sounded nice.

“Ah, right. Those Ursus get honey-drunk.” Quercus said.

“Trust me, I know.” Tachanka said with a guilty expression.

“Did those kids get in the way while you were making this?” Dobermann asked.

“It was my fault.” He had the girls test this out yesterday and found out about that aspect of their physiology the hard way.

“Perhaps you should get them something here to make it up to them.” Quercus winked as she stretched out an arm. She didn’t like staying inside the landship much. It was claustrophobic, and the air was so stale. At least compared to the open wilderness.

As such, her room was less her bedroom and more a storeroom and emporium. Something that caused Closure consternation, especially since Quercus offered her own goods at far lower prices. Or even for free if she was in a good mood. Such was market competition.

The Feline had many different curios out. Glazed porcelain bowls and vases. Jars filled with dried herbs or jams. Old books or handmade toys. And intoxicants, of course. But she kept those out of sight, lest a daring youth try to abscond with some behind her back.

Tachanka browsed the collection thoughtfully. Even asking Quercus to open some of the crates she had stored around the room.

He picked up a heavy book, trying to read it. His Victorian still wasn’t the greatest, but from what he could gather, it was some sort of historical fiction story. Perhaps Anna would like that.

“A bit tricky for them, don’t you think?” Dobermann asked.

“They should be challenging themselves. Or perhaps, we all should challenge ourselves once in a while.” He replied sagely.

Quercus giggled. “I know two of them might take a crack at reading it, but certainly not the others.”

“Then they can share what they read with the others.” He answered as he set the book aside and looked for more things to get for them. A set of kitchen knives with a wave pattern inlaid on the blade. “This is bulat steel?”

“If that’s why you call that sort of pattern, then yes.” Quercus answered cheerfully. “I treated a blacksmith a while back, and he gave me those as thanks.”

“Must be valuable if they were enough to pay a medical bill.” Tachanka joked. “They might be well out of my payscale.”

“In that case, why don’t I give you a discount? Say, 100%?”

Tachanka let out a laugh. “A loss leader, huh? Wonder what you’ll price gouge then.”

The man continued browsing for things to bring to the girls. A few wide-brimmed hats, it was getting warmer and sunnier recently. Maybe some jam, preferably without honey. A few more travel snacks.

“Anything caught your interest, instructor?” Quercus asked Dobermann, putting on her saleswoman attitude. It didn’t matter if she wouldn’t make any money off of this. The fun was making a sale for her.

The Perro had a bag of herbs in her hands. She unzipped the top and took a whiff. A pleasant anise-like smell came from the green leaves. “This smells different from normal basil.”

“Good nose. That’s holy basil there. A popular herb in the east. Can handle stronger heats than other basils. Thinking about cooking something with it?”

“Not me, personally. I don’t have the inventiveness for it. I was thinking about giving it to Hibiscus.”

“That young doctor?” Tachanka asked. “She gives my babushka competition when it comes to getting me to eat healthy.”

“Would you believe me if I said she’s gotten better over the years?” Dobermann let out a sigh, but smiled wistfully nonetheless. “We’ve at least convinced her to take flavor into consideration these days. So she’s fine with herbs and certain spices.”

“I suppose my jams are off the table, then?” Quercus asked rhetorically.

“She’d probably snatch them all away if she found out you give it to the children.” Dobermann replied. And the instructor would, should her trainees eat them at the expense of actual food.

Quercus looked back at the man still perusing her wares. He had gotten plenty of things earmarked away, definitely for all his friends.

“Anything you plan on keeping yourself?” Quercus asked.

“I don’t think you stock the things I’m interested in.” He replied apologetically. He had been getting used to this new world. But if there was one thing he missed, it was having access to troves of vintage military equipment. Only Laterano had what he was looking for, and those were pricey. And dangerous to acquire. “Unless you have a secret stash of machining tools somewhere.”

Quercus giggled. “Regrettably, that would clash with my shop’s aesthetic, don’t you think?” Despite only stopping in the landship intermittently, Quercus had taken to personalizing the interior anyways. Lining the walls with Gododdin tapestries. Furnishing the place with carved wood furniture. She even had a few vines growing on stakes she attached to various parts of the wall, creating an artificial grove in her own room. Susie watered and pruned them for her. It started just as a way to give the girl something to do when she first got here, but Susie had been unerringly diligent.

“People tell me you often hang out in Engineering.” Dobermann began. “Did you use to be a mechanic in…wherever you served?”

She could tell the man was very experienced. But even a veteran instructor like her, who had seen plenty of doctrines and techniques, couldn’t pin down exactly where Tachanka was trained. Some of his skills reminded her of the Ursus military. His infatuation with superior firepower specifically. But it was still uncanny in a way. The same could be said for his accent.

The man shook his head. “I worked in the weapons division for some time. Enough to know how to maintain my own equipment. And to make a few things for fun on the side.”

“Right. I remember one time you made model rockets for the children in pediatrics.” Dobermann said. She had been running drills on the deck, only for all her trainees, and even some of her instructors, to all get distracted by the hiss as his toys streaked into the sky.

The man who had orchestrated all that chuckled. “I apologize for putting your training session on hold. I just figured I’d do something exciting for the patients here.”

“Are you sure you’re not some ballistics engineer?” Quercus joked.

“Well, smaller rockets are easy enough to make. The machining was the easy part, didn’t even have to use too much metal. Getting the proper fuel was the hard part.”

“You used something you called ‘rocket candy’ for them, right?” Dobermann asked.

“Yes. It was sugar and potassium nitrate.” Tachanka answered. The sugar was easy enough to get. The potassium nitrate, though, required a little creativity. And some backbreaking work for Miss Lena to get a small bag of fertilizer. “It burns longer and stronger than black powder, so the rockets can get some real air. Assuming they manage to stay upright.”

“You might want to ask Utage about that, then. She’s actually really good at this sort of thing.” Quercus suggested as she described the girl to Tachanka. Utage had a certain curiosity to her, always buying little trinkets or snacks. Enough that Quercus let her browse whatever stock was there, even if she herself was away. There would always be money left on the counter, Utage was surprisingly responsible like that. “She actually came by to pick up a few scifi books recently.”

“Oh, that’s what she was talking about.” Dobermann crossed her arms. “During training, she kept babbling about how fighting was, quote, ‘a drag that would one day become obsolete,’ at least until I made her spar with Instructor Grace. Then she got excited like she usually does in a fight.”

Quercus’s ears twitched. That made her interested. “So did she explain what she thought would replace conflict?” She never got to read any of the novels she had given to Utage, but maybe she should borrow one of them. It would be a fun escape into gentler fantasies.

“There was this one book she read that talked about how instead of duking it out on the battlefield, the countries of the world instead competed through scientific competition. You know, things like coming up with cures for diseases, or more efficient farming techniques, or faster computers. But I think the thing that really caught her interest was how some of the chapters talked about the world’s attempts to explore the cosmos.”

“A space race?” Tachanka asked, some excitement slipping into his voice.

“Oh? Are you a fan of science fiction as well, Alexsandr?” Quercus asked.

Tachanka laughed nervously. The Rainbows still had to be careful when talking. Lest they get tossed into the mental ward. Or worse, get imprisoned by opportunists.

“No. I just think it’s a wonderful way to settle conflicts. Assuming the nations of the world aren’t going to use the products of such programs for war, instead of soldiers killing, creating malice and grief that lasts for generations, all our efforts would instead be spent furthering mankind’s knowledge. Mankind’s prosperity.”

“Yes. If only things could be that way.” Quercus concurred sadly. “Although, I don’t think I’d be that useful in a world like that. Perhaps instead we could compete over who could make the liveliest garden instead?”

“Maybe the people in charge would invest their efforts into actually improving things.” Dobermann said bitterly. “Heh. Maybe I was too fast dismissing Utage’s excitement. I’ll ask her what the title is next time, see if we have any copies.”

“What do you think the earth looks like from all the way up there?” Quercus asked. Just seeing the land beneath her in one of Rhodes Island’s VTOLs was breathtaking, even if Dobermann was always too scared to enjoy the sights. She couldn’t begin to imagine what the sight would be like even higher.

“It would probably be covered by all the clouds.” Dobermann guessed.

“Personally, I think it would look quite blue.” Tachanka answered.

---

“My, my, Instructor Dobermann. Are you also running a shop out of your living space?” Quercus teased. The Perro’s room was somewhat tidy, at least compared to the warehouse that was hers. But there were manila folders everywhere with printouts spilling out of them. Stacks of combat records next to a projector sitting on the floor, behind which is a folding chair. Next to her bed was a coffee machine, the pot still had residue from this morning’s brew.

“It’s a lot of work training the operators. Having some alone time to mull it over is a necessity.” Dobermann rubbed her temples. The problem with most trainees isn’t that they knew nothing, quite the opposite. Many of her trainees these days already had fighting experience, they just needed to know how Rhodes Island does things. Her usual regime didn’t really work, most operators don’t need a rehash of things they already know.

Tachanka knew what that was like. No one in Rainbow joined as a fresh-eyed rookie. It made life for the instructors hell trying to fit everyone’s idiosyncrasies into a cohesive unit. Even with the excellent self-discipline and professionalism present. Training such a colorful bunch like the people here would probably infuriate the Rainbow instructors to hell and back.

“Plenty of outlandish fighters as well.” Tachanka commented. That was an understatement. There was no shortage of weird things he has seen at this point. “My team and I don’t participate much in your training exercises, but do you make them use standard weapons while practicing?”

“Standard?” Dobermann asked rhetorically. “We usually let them use whatever they’ve been using. We’re not an army, operators here don’t have to conform to a certain role in the field.”

“Right. This place is more akin to guerrillas than anything else.” Tachanka said with a laugh. He supposed Rainbow was like that as well, at least compared to their predecessors.

“You were in the Bolivarian Army, right?” Quercus asked. Dobermann nodded.

“I still have my old uniform.” The Perro said as she gestured to her closet. Quercus opened it, seeing a dark green dress uniform stuffed into the far left side, next to a pair of boots and gloves. The Feline frowned, Dobermann wasn’t the only one that kept old momentos. Then again, so did Alexsandr, maybe. But he was the only one to wear such things in the field.

“You don’t seem proud of your past.” Tachanka remarked. When Dobermann stared at her old uniform, he had seen those eyes before. In his long service, he had seen plenty of his fellow soldiers with those eyes.

“Are you aware of the situation in Bolivar?” Dobermann asked. Tachanka nodded. He had done some reading, and made more than a few parallels.

“I’ve fought for multiple sides in that war, only to do nothing except send people to their demise.” Dobermann said bitterly.

Quercus looked at her with sad eyes, and a touch of familiarity. “And still you fight…”

“It’s what I’m good at.” The Perro sighed out. Being an instructor was easier to bear than being an officer, if only by a sliver. “I still think you’re braver than me, Quercus.”

“Are you sure? I still can’t bear the idea of holding a weapon anymore.”

“Only one of us had the courage to deliver the news to our soldiers’ families in person.”

Dobermann picked up a chain of dogtags she kept on a shelf in her wardrobe. They had been cleaned and polished recently, even though the engravings were worn down. The names were almost illegible at this point, but she knew which was which. “You’re probably wondering why I keep these things if I only have bitter memories. Well, the answer is that I haven’t left my homeland entirely. One day, I’ll go back there. Make things better.”

Dobermann laughed at herself as she closed the closet door. “Sorry, that probably sounds more convincing coming from someone like Amiya.”

“It sounded perfectly fine to me.” Tachanka smiled warmly. “What’s wrong in wanting to help your country?”

“You’re a patriot, Mister Seneviev?” Quercus asked. The man shrugged.

“I love my country, for better or worse. I was born in the closing days of one government, and saw the creation of another. But the people didn’t magically change. Even if nationality or ethnicity change over time, they are still themselves.”

“Do you plan on letting any kids you have join as well?” Dobermann asked. As he heard this, he scowled and shook his head.

“Absolutely not.” Tachanka said firmly. “If they get conscripted, they can do the required time. After that, they should do something better with their lives. The same goes for my nephew.”

“Oh, you have a sibling?” Quercus asked. This brightened the man’s mood immediately, his frown morphing into a wide smile as he searched through his pockets for a picture. On it was a woman in a white lab coat surrounded by children, and then a tall man behind them.

“Yes, my sister is a doctor.” Tachanka answered as he practically shoved the photograph in front of the other two operators. The two couldn’t tell what race they all were. There weren’t any discerning features whatsoever. Maybe they were Pilosa? But then again, considering how energetic Tachanka was, that wouldn’t make sense.

Tachanka continued talking about his family happily, regaling the two with tales of their children’s antics. Despite his candidness, Quercus noticed that the man always avoided naming specific places or dates. Considering his line of work, that was understandable.

“I think she would like it here.” He said.

“Perhaps one day she could come visit.” Quercus suggested. Shockingly, this made Tachanka frown.

“It’d be a bad thing if that happened. My team and I were, shall we say, transported here, while dealing with some mad science experiment.”

He waited for their reaction. To his surprise, it was frank acceptance. Considering the stuff that was considered normal here, perhaps what happened at Watchtower 33 was just another day.

“So your team must be searching for a way to get back home, then?” Dobermann guessed.

“That’s one of our priorities.”

“If you ever manage to find a way back, be sure to visit us sometimes.” Quercus said.

“If we can.” Tachanka replied offhandedly. “It might be a long time, though. So maybe I should take some souvenirs back with me. Have any suggestions?”

“Do you want to go back to my room?” Quercus joked. “What are you looking for anyways?”

“I know what my sister likes. But mine and her kids not as much. It was easier when they were still little. I’m not really sure what the youth like these days.”

“And you think we would?” Dobermann asked.

“Well, in terms of age, you’re probably closer to them than to me.” He laughed self-deprecatingly.

Dobermann and Quercus shared a glance and smirked.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Dobermann said as she brainstormed. She couldn’t recommend any food. She wasn’t at Hibiscus levels of bad, but she still concerned herself with nutrition first and foremost. Maybe music, then. That was the one hobby she could find the time for.

“Tell you what, I can burn a couple of songs onto CDs, or maybe into a thumb drive.” The Perro offered.

“Oh? What sort of music does the esteemed instructor listen to?” Quercus asked.

“Mostly rap.” Dobermann pointed to a vinyl record on her shelf. Tachanka pulled it out, seeing a picture of a clothed penguin holding a mic in its flipper. “You can’t go wrong with the Emperor. The man’s a master.”

“I see.” Tachanka nodded. He had heard some of the kids back home playing this sort of genre. He didn’t get it, but if they liked it, more power to them. “So, this Emperor, is this his mascot or something?”

“Huh? No. That’s a photo of him.” Dobermann said plainly.

“Oh. It must one of those digital avatars then.” Tachanka said. He was definitely getting old, and his hobby of restoring vintage equipment probably made him even more out of touch than usual.

“No, that’s actually him. I managed to catch a concert of his in Lungmen once.” Dobermann said as she pulled up a video on her phone. True to her word, on stage was a walking, rapping bird.

Tachanka cocked his head to the side, and then nodded. At this point, he had become desensitized to things. He just took everything at face value now. “I see. Mind sending me that footage as well? I’m sure they’ll get a kick out of it.”

“You sure they won’t think it’s fake?” Quercus asked. She had a point. They’d probably just say it’s computer generated or something and wonder why he’s making such a big deal about it. Maybe he should bring them here in the future one day. On the discrete side, of course. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if the governments of his world found out about this place and its originium.

“Might as well show it to them anyways. Say, Quercus, do you have children of your own?” He asked. “Some of the people I’ve talked to about you have said something along those lines.”

“No. It’s nothing like that.” The Feline giggled. “That’s just what I call some of the younger folks, like Susie. Even if they’re legally adults, they still need guidance from their elders before they can stand on their own two feet. Isn’t that right, Instructor Dobermann?”

“I guess so.” The Perro conceded. Quercus had a point. Above technique, above tactics, the instructors had a responsibility to instill habits into the operators. Not necessarily what to think, but how.

“And unfortunately,” Quercus’s ears drooped down, “there are too many children drawn into the flames of war. Even here.”

“I know what you’re saying.” Dobermann began. The allowance of certain younger operators was definitely a controversial decision, even among the instructors.

“I don’t mean to accuse, I know that many of those children have rather unique circumstances. I just wish there was a better way.” The Feline turned to Tachanka. “Are you alright with those girls going into battle, Alexsandr? After everything you’ve told us about your own children.”

Tachanka let out a long sigh. He was obviously conflicted about it as well. But he reasoned that so long as Rhodes didn’t use them to do their dirty work, teaching them how to fight would be fine. After all, they had already seen some of the worst the world had to offer. Coddling them at this point would be pointless. Telling them that everything will be okay, disingenuous.

So why not give them the tools needed to push back that evil? So that if something similar happened in the future, they could be the heroes that were never there for them.

He answered with this, adding, “I was a conscript once, myself. Forced into a hopeless war. But my service after that was voluntary. So long as you aren’t forcing them into the battlefield, then they should be allowed to do what they feel will pave a way forwards.”

“The same goes for Susie.” Quercus added. “If you drag her into your battles against her will, I’m taking her away. Alright?”

“Got it.” Dobermann promised happily. Even if she wanted to return to her homeland one day, she wouldn’t mind if it’s by bringing Rhodes Island there. This was a place that valued the lives of the people fighting for it. Far better than every faction she ever fought for in the war.

---

Quercus scrunched her nose as she walked into Tachanka’s room. He had been bracing for that, the Feline often complained about air quality. He had cleaned up a little beforehand to avoid such issues, but he guessed there was only so much he could mask. Having been outside the room for a long time, even he could smell the lingering scent of oil and metal in the air.

Because he was often away from the landship, he didn’t feel the need to make the room too livable. He and Quercus were similar in the regard. This place was more a private workshop. And perhaps museum.

Dobermann stared at a rifle hung up on his wall. A wooden stock and a sickle magazine. She wondered how much he had to pay to get something like that. Firearms were a popular black market item, even if most people couldn’t use them. And even if the Notarial Hall chased after mere rumors of unlawful ownership.

“Like it?” The man asked, staring proudly at the AK-74 hanging on his wall. The wood sanded and varnished to a mirror sheen. Half of the parts he personally milled.

“Should we keep this a secret? I don’t want to see you get blasted by the Sankta here.” Dobermann asked.

“It should be fine. I asked one of those ones with the halos. Ambriel, I think her name was. She said she would smooth things over if I could restore it.” Dobermann winced. Ambriel’s words weren’t exactly the most reliable when it came to Lateran law. “She hasn’t come to collect it yet. A shame, considering how much work I put into it. It was a charred piece of scrap metal when I found it. Something like this deserves better than that.”

“You’re quite the gearhead” Quercus flitted between the sketches hanging on the man’s wall, depicting machines she had never seen before. Some of them vaguely resembled the artillery pieces used by the Ursus Army. And then others depicted vehicles out of scifi. The man had said he wasn’t a fan, but what’s here contradicted that. Armored cars. Tanks. Things that resembled flying machines. Different from the VTOLs Rhodes Island used. Most of them having fixed engines, or propellers on the top and rear. And some on the front as well.

They were all high quality too, like he had referenced a manual before drawing them.

“Yes, uh…They’re just idle sketches.” Tachanka said evasively. Before he had to elaborate further, something tapped on the glass of a terrarium sitting on his desk. “Ah, right. I forgot I was keeping this one here. This is Kleshnya.”

“Isn’t that Rosa’s pet?” Dobermann asked. She had seen the young Ursus girl carry that specific metal crab to the cafeteria before, letting it eat at the same time she did. When the other girls were away, it wasn’t uncommon to see Rosa in the garden watching over the animal. Dobermann didn’t mind, it served as good emotional support. And lord knows that girl needed one.

“She’s away on a mission right now, so I’m watching this little one until she gets back.” Tachanka said as he dropped a few dry pellets of food into the crab’s terrarium. “Originally, I got it for myself, but, well, I think it likes her better than it does me.”

The man laughed happily as he looked at another terrarium containing a slug. “And this is Uman.”

“The habitats are a bit on the small side, aren’t they?” Quercus asked as the slug ignored all the noise. She felt a pang of sympathy, seeing these creatures stuck inside such enclosed environments.

“Usually, I let him roam around. I just put him in there for now so he doesn’t get stepped on by accident.” Tachanka explained. The slug was a curious troublemaker, constantly moving around his workstation whenever he used his tools. Maybe it liked the vibrations.

“I remember the USSG girls freaking out because they lost track of Uman once.” Dobermann said. She had to cancel a training session because they were so distracted. “They searched the ship top to bottom before finding in one of the boiler rooms.”

“It looks like a Sargonian slug. Maybe it missed the heat?” Quercus said. There were a dizzying number of pets on board. If Rhodes Island decided to stop being a pharmaceutical company, they could probably become a successful zoo.

The woman sometimes envied those animals. It was a difficult choice for her at times, whether she’d rather be in the wilds alone or in the city with other people. They, on the other hand, could adapt to the sterile environments of the landships better than she could.

“Maybe. I’ve been thinking about giving those girls Uman completely. I’m away most of the time, so that would mean I don’t have to find a sitter for it every time I leave.”

“So long as they can keep track of it.” Dobermann said. She backed up and felt something tap against her foot. Turning around, she saw a few weights. Lighter ones at that. For someone as burly as Tachanka, especially given all the gear he had to carry around, this seemed odd. Maybe it was for therapy? He was much older than them, perhaps she’ll have to start hefting lighter weights too once age started taking its toll.

“In case you haven’t noticed, my team and I aren’t exactly the strongest.” Tachanka replied as he crouched down and lifted one of the barbells with a grunt. Dobermann and Quercus tried one each as well. They were heavy, no doubt. But they weren’t putting nearly as much effort in as Tachanka had to.

“So that’s why you get by with your gadgets, yeah?” Quercus asked.

“Something like that.”

“Is this Rainbow special forces? You four are far too good to just be regulars.”

“Yes. Sorry, but we can’t say much.” He warned them.

“That’s fine. We’re not going to report this to anyone. Right, Dobermann?” The Perro nodded. Even if they were physically weaker than most special forces she was used to, that clearly didn’t get in the way of being highly effective combatants.

“Are there more like you from…wherever you came from?” Quercus asked. She didn’t expect a detailed answer, but she was curious nonetheless. Here was a man that allegedly came from south of the Foehn Hotlands, but who nonetheless sounded like he was from Ursus. She would stop before she learned anything that would get her on S.W.E.E.P.’s shortlist, but until then, might as well learn what she can.

“There are many like us.” Tachanka replied. He didn’t elaborate.

Dobermann stared at the rifle again. Then to the machine gun he usually used sitting on his desk. And then the armor he usually wore all packed up. His helmet rested on top of his folded clothes. “Do the people in your homeland use this type of equipment?”

“Erh. Kinda.” He said cautiously. “Not anymore for some parts.”

The man picked up his machine gun and stroked it tenderly. “This baby has been out of service for, I don’t know, 70 or 80 years now?”

“Huh?” Dobermann raised an eyebrow. Outdated, she got. It resembled certain older guns from Laterano. But close to a century old rather than maybe a few decades at max? What sort of country was that advanced? “Dare I ask about the one hanging on your wall?”

“Oh, that one’s more modern. For better or worse, we still use it. It’s about the latest thing I’ll trust personally.” He replied.

“An old-fashioned type?” Quercus asked. So was she, perhaps more so than him.

“Out of personal tastes, yes. But also out of practicality. I said before, I saw the fall of one government and the rise of another in my country. When those things happen, the reliability of everything has the tendency to plummet. Makes you real paranoid about any newfangled gear. Always wondering whether it’ll jam or blow up on you.”

“Thus, most of your equipment harkens back to the earlier era of that first regime.” Dobermann surmised. It wasn’t a bad mentality to have. During the war, even she had reservations about equipment manufactured locally, preferring to instead source things from the Singas or Coalition forces. Making sure a mission could be finished with as few casualties as possible trumped all ideological or political concerns in that regard.

“Well, the younger ones in our group managed to squeeze decent performance out of the new toys. Probably because they had access to good parts and bullets. And not the garbage our regular military had.” The man’s laugh started fine, but slowly became more and more bitter with each bark.

Quercus and Dobermann knew that look on his face, the sadness in his eyes and behind his laugh. Disappointment, disillusionment at an authority he once had faith in. They had experienced the same when they left the military.

Was his current team somehow different? They seemed to have…two like Columbians? And then a Leithanien? Multi-national at the very least. Just like Rhodes Island. Maybe that’s why these strange travelers stuck around instead of offering their services to the nations, who would definitely have far more resources than Rhodes Island does.

“Hmm? What’s this?” Quercus asked as she almost stepped on something. She leaned over to pick up what looked like a paper map, except the land didn’t resemble any place she knew.

“Let me take a look – Pizdets!” Tachanka suddenly spat out. The two Terrans swiveled their heads to look at the man, his eyes wider than usual. He took a deep breath and laughed weakly. How would he find a way out of this mess? Kotz could sweet talk his way out of these slip-ups, but Kotz wasn’t here.

“What’s got you so shaken up?” Dobermann asked. Tachanka looked around the room, trying to figure out how he could possibly excuse this. He had forgotten that he still had some things related to Earth in his travel pack. That must’ve slipped out when he emptied it here.

Quercus raised an eyebrow playfully. “Did we catch something embarrassing, Mister Seneviev?”

“Uh, look. That’s uh…something for a game Kotz is organizing.” He blurted out. His team will not appreciate him coming up with yet another flimsy cover, but surely anything would be better than saying they come from some unexplored and probably uninhabited wasteland.

“A game?” Quercus asked as she unfolded the map and looked at it more closely. Tachanka clenched his jaw as he watched the Feline inspect the alien places. Alien to her, that is. He was very familiar with it, but he couldn’t let her know that. “Is it some sort of fantasy game? I’ve never heard of any of these places before, but some of their names sound familiar.”

“Y-yes. Something like that. Well, it’s more sci-fi than anything else. It’s best to take inspiration from reality, is it not?” In his mind, the places here were the ones that sounded uncannily familiar. He guessed the opposite would be true.

“Sci-fi? And here I thought you weren’t a fan.” Quercus teased. “So what sort of tech does this world have?”

Tachanka groaned as he tried to sort all the information in his head. It’s not like anything he could tell them would be remotely useful. And so he answered, “Everyone has guns. And there’s none of that originium stuff.”

“Really?” Quercus glanced at the firearms on Tachanka’s table again. Perhaps there was a kernel of truth to what he was saying, but she wouldn’t pry. “So how would they power their mobile cities?”

“There aren’t any. Makes it easier to keep track of what’s where.” Tachanka joked. Even if they didn’t buy it, they were at least playing along. And he trusted they could keep a secret. “And they still use mineral fuels. Just not ones that can grow on people.”

“Seems like a dream fuel to me.” Dobermann commented. An energy source that could be harnessed without risk of infection would revolutionize society as they knew it. It would even make Rhodes Island obsolete.

“Well, it’s still causing problems for the planet.” Tachanka said glumly. “Nothing like the catastrophes here, but still making life harder for people in general. Either because people fight over deposits, or because they still cause pollution.”

“There’s always a catch.” Quercus sighed.

“Hmm…There’s a place called Bolivia here.” Dobermann pointed to a spot on the bottom left quadrant. “That must be the equivalent of Bolivar. This map’s pretty fleshed out for a fantasy game. Kotz must’ve put a ton of time into this.”

“There are loads of countries, too.” Quercus remarked, more than she could recognize. She found a region near the center that sounded like it would be Iberia’s analogue. And then another that would be Victoria’s counterpart. There might be more cities on this map than there were in real life. “So what’s the premise of this setting?”

“Uh…whatever we feel like. With how busy we are, there’s not really a continuous narrative.” Tachanka answered evasively. “I mean, sometimes we fight against terrorists and organized crime. Or alien parasites. And other times, some of the nations fight each other.”

“And I imagine you pull from your own experiences often?” Quercus asked. Tachanka shrugged, keeping his mouth shut on that matter. The Feline got the hint. He won’t say anymore about that. “Fair enough. It’s a shame this is purely a fantasy, though. There are places here that have no equivalent in the real world. I wonder what life is like in those places.”

“They probably haven’t fleshed those parts out as much.” Dobermann guessed.

“They wouldn’t have so many names and places if they didn’t.” Quercus countered.

“Indeed. Well, have you two ever heard of the idea of alternate universes?” Tachanka asked.

“A trope that’s overused in crappy TV shows?” Dobermann asked. The man chuckled.

“Yeah. But, who knows? Maybe there’s some truth to it.”

“Hoping there’s a universe where this creation of yours exists?” Quercus joked. They all knew the answer. They just kept the charade up for fun.

“Perhaps.” But getting back was another thing entirely. And even then, how would he explain it to the others when they did return? Ironically, the existence of each other’s worlds was mutually unbelievable.

But that’s something they could handle later. For now, they’ll see this land and all it has to offer.

---

Subject: Re: Unique Bolivar Cultivars

From: Podenco

To: Quercus

Hello again Miss Quercus,

I’m sorry it took so long to reply. We’ve been busy in the garden lately, but I’ve managed to talk with Instructor Dobermann and we brainstormed what you can take with you on your travels. I’ve prepared a seed bag of maca, mashua, and chocho that I took with me from home. Having evolved to grow in the mountains, they are very frost and drought resistant, so I’m sure plenty of farmers would appreciate them.

Sadly, those same adaptations means that many of the plants might not take root in the Victorian wilds you frequent. But I suppose there’s no harm in trying. And I’m sure your Arts will help as well. Some seeds are adaptable little ones, taking root in alien soil as if it was always their home.

---

Istina put her finger on a specific point on a table, upon which was a large whiteboard scribbled all over. On top are various figures or models that were collected from whatever was around. Rulers or staplers stood in for walls.

“I think you should breach here.” Istina said. “That way, I can provide cover fire with this, um, SVU, was it?”

“Huh? But wouldn’t it be easier to rappel down and through a window here?” May pointed to another spot on the whiteboard.

“True, but remember, they all have guns. They probably have people watching the place. I think. Um, Mister Kotz, can they shoot on our turn?”

“Uh, sure. Why not?” The man replied as he scribbled down some notes. They were making up rules on the fly anyways. He would type up a proper rules sheet later, when they actually tested it out some. Behind Blitz was Tachanka, covering his own head with a pillow.

“Cohen is never going to let us hear the end of this.” Tachanka growled out.

“This is a hole of your own design, bratukha.” Blitz teased.

“And you’re digging us even deeper.”

“Better they think this all a game, no?” Blitz whispered before he resumed being gamemaster. “So anyone want to do any prep or are you ready to get the show on the road?”

“Ooh! I wanna use one of those cluster charges on the window!” May said excitedly.

“Alright, give me a second. I forgot to make rules for damage.” Blitz said as he did some quick mental math. All the while Tachanka continued groaning into his pillow. At least Anna was having fun. But he definitely won’t be soon enough.

---

Chapter Text

“Is that…Warfarin’s centrifuge?” The Doctor asked hesitantly. The Red W with teardrops beneath it was probably her idea of a joke. But why was it in Thorn’s room. And more importantly, why did Thorn’s room look more like a lab than a bedroom?

Sure, there was a bed and a wardrobe shielded by a glass barrier. But most of the room was dominated by lab equipment from who knows where. A tray of vials rested on a table, filled with a rainbow of solutions. Completely unlabeled, of course. Thorns had a mental sorting system that no one else was privy to.

A small distillation set up consisting of a hot plate, flasks, and tubing. Thankfully empty at the moment, but there is pitch black residue on the beakers.

“Is it?” Thorns asked, as if he had no clue how the device ended up in his possession. “Ah, I borrowed that from her three months ago. I’ll return it tomorrow morning.”

“Judging by the damage done to the coating, perhaps it would be better that she think it completely lost.” Corroserum suggested. The thing looked like it had been sprayed with some of his corrosive solution! Sure, the damage was mostly superficial, but no one would want to have something like this in their lab. They’d probably just sell it for scraps. “If I could inquire freely, what exactly were you separating that resulted in such results?”

“It wasn’t the separation.” Thorns answered. “Another compound was too volatile, it knocked over the samples I had stockpiled. Some of them spilled onto this machine while it was open.”

“Volatile?” The Doctor grimaced.

“I was experimenting with extracts from infused originium slugs.”

“Why!?” The Doctor was concerned. Not because this was out of the ordinary for Thorns, but because no one had talked about it. Maybe it was indistinguishable from the normal accidents that happened.

“ Instead of poison, I wanted to see if I could create an explosive solution to use in battle.”

“You have been following proper safety procedures, correct?” Corroserum asked. He was intrigued. “I do have some insight as to how to neutralize the more energetic reactions that such substances produce, should you wish to continue your research.”

Thorns shook his head. “I already learned what I wanted. And I made sure to seal the ventilation immediately after the explosion before beginning decontamination.”

The Iberian pointed to a red button mounted onto the wall. Or rather, an entire panel of red buttons and switches, with wires running around the room like the roots of a tree. Ventilation. Electricity. Lights. Sprinklers. Decontamination Sprinklers. Did he seriously just stand there and wait for everything to be neutralized? Thorns’ room appeared austere at a glance. Well, an austere lab at least. But he had clearly spent a lot of time and energy customizing this place.

“There is far less ambient noise in this room. It’s almost strange having things be so faint.” Corroserum commented. “Did you do this out of consideration for your next door neighbors, or to insulate yourself from any distractions?”

“A friend of mine kept complaining that he could hear the explosions from down the hall.” Thorns answered bluntly. Must be Elysium.

“Why not go to Engineering or Medical? Surely our labs meet your standards.” The Doctor suggested.

“Ideas are fleeting things.” Thorns said. “You get them when you wake up in the middle of the night. Or when you’re idly reading a book. But when you finally get to a lab, the idea eludes you.”

“So you’re one of those types, then?” Corroserum said. The type to chase after flights of fancy, who would sprint back to the lab just after they clocked out because their brain was still spewing out ideas. He certainly didn’t hate that type of person, but the reliability of their ideas in those times was always a coin flip between groundbreaking and impractical.

Thorns shrugged as the Pythia told him all this. The Aegir didn’t care about what people thought of him. Past making sure the Inquisition doesn’t suspect them , most Aegir learned to grow a tough shell.

“Ah, my apologies if I unwittingly roused unpleasant memories.” Corroserum said in his usual energetic voice. It was a little less chipper, but still as fast as always. Iberia had an air of mystery to it, even someone well-read like him didn’t know much. A brief primer from the Doctor two days before, only three paragraphs long, gave him more information than most of his own research had uncovered.

Thorns’s room did not have any particularly novel devices or apparatuses, much to Corroserum’s disappointment. Perhaps it was simply due to a lack of availability, or maybe it was a deliberate choice. “Is your usage of common equipment personal preference?”

“Islander technology is hard to come across. Even if you’re willing to delve into unsavory market places .” Thorns said. His face was as blasé as usual, but the corners dipped slightly. “And I’ve learned to work around it. So long as you pay attention, there’s not much that can’t be done with common laboratory materials.”

The Doctor looked at the emergency panel again. He held his tongue, mostly because he knew Thorns wouldn’t take any safety recommendations to heart anyways. “You’ve got a lot of unique stuff in your own lab, don’t you?” He asked Corroserum.

The Pythia let out a tired sigh. “Raythean, and quite frankly any firm in Columbia, will manufacture equipment custom-tailored to fit their needs. Usually without consideration for cross-compatibility. Rhodes Island’s jailbreaking capabilities would be invaluable, but alas, that would constitute a security breach.”

The Doctor winced with sympathy. He has seen Corroserum working before, usually with two laptops. One for his Rhodes Island work. Another for his Raythean work. Transferring data from one to another, partly out of security concerns, and partly because the two companies kept their data in separate file formats, thus necessitating manual entry into both computers.

“But, and I do hope I am not getting too personal here, Thorns, is there a reason there seem to be no personal effects in this place?”

“I have plenty.”

“I think he means why is there nothing from your homeland.” The Doctor said. Might as well rip the bandage off.

“I didn’t carry much out except the clothes on my back. And my sword.” Thorns answered plainly.

“That, and a lot of Iberian artwork is stupidly expensive these days.” The Doctor added.

“Correct. And those funds are better spent buying more reagents. Rather than collecting old relics from a bygone age.”

“Ever function oriented, I see. Certainly an admirable outlook to have.” The Pythia looked around the room, trying to find anything that broke that image. He spotted one thing, nestled in a cardboard box and covered with a cloth. Several multicolored tubes sticking out of a box. Diodes and wires all around it.

He tried to guess what it was. It didn’t look like something used in chemical synthesis. Maybe something for combat? But it was too colorful. And seemed too fragile.

“It’s an automatic fireworks launcher. One that can be launched in broad daylight.” Thorns answered suddenly.

“A fireworks launcher?” Corroserum said . Not the most useful thing in the world. “But to create a chemical composition that can generate such a display in daytime is nonetheless impressive. Based on what you’ve shown so far, your field of expertise lies more in the field of biochemistry rather than pyrotechnics.”

“There’s some overlap. But th is was more a side project I picked up when I went back to Iberia.”

“Oh yeah. How did that go?” The Doctor asked. Things were calmer now in that country. Enough that some from Rhodes had even requested personal leave to go there, at least for a few days. There was still plenty of work to be done, of course.

“The people there still don’t trust us. But…” Thorns looked at the launcher again. He had a slight grin on his face as he remembered that young villager who he had restored it with him. “…there are always a few that do what they want.”

“Like you?” The Doctor asked teasingly. The Aegir shrugged. “Why did you take it back with you?”

“The town wasn’t that wealthy. And it was hard enough making enough powder to launch all the fireworks in the first place. Without me around, they probably won’t be able to make more in the future. I did leave my notes though, in case anyone wants to try. One day, maybe devices like these will be in every town again, when they remember.”

“Remember what?” Corroserum asked.

“A very important day for us Islanders. And for all Iberians. ” Thorns said vaguely. The situation was unfortunately still bleak. The older people didn’t want to remember those bygone days, as doing so would make their current lives all the more wretched. And the younger people, who never knew such days, were completely ignorant. Ultimately, that project was just one celebration in one town. Just a faint and cooling ember of the Golden Age.

“We might be opening more branch offices there in the future. Thinking about requesting a transfer?”

Thorns shook his head. He was willing to do what he could, but changing Iberia wasn’t his goal.

“I’m happy here. Less red tape. Plus, not having to sleep with one eye open every night.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” The Doctor joked as he looked at the little corner that constituted Thorns’ living arrangement. The Aegir definitely made the place his. It reminded the Doctor of many, many, rooms aboard the ship. Mainly how messy it was. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Wrinkled, unwashed, inside out, and filled with holes. Equipment from the lab also occasionally leaked in, such as a dirty flask or beaker.

“The researchers here are all quite the characters.” Corroserum said as he got closer to the glass barrier separating the lab from the living area. He still stayed out of the living area proper, even as Thorns walked past him and stepped on some of the clothes on the ground. It was an interesting contrast, the few times he had correspondence with Thorns, the man was always terse and to the point. Corroserum figured him to be an all-business type of person, as orderly and meticulous as his emails. Then again, he thought the same of many people here before he stayed long enough to see their true nature.

“Why, I heard th at Miss Closure’s room has a similar aesthetic.”

“Yeah. The people here are as brilliant as they are slobbish.” The Doctor said.

“You also sleep at your desk.” Thorns said. He didn’t intend this to be a retort, more an observation. But the Doctor was still flustered all the same.

“Hmm…” Corroserum put a hand to his chin. “Would you like to experiment with using my reagents to wash your clothing? If we dilute certain ones, they should be safe for use on fabrics.”

“Considering what he usually ends up covered in, the reactions might just melt everything.” The Doctor chimed in.

“Sure. I’m curious about your setup.” Thorns said, ignoring the Doctor’s prediction.

“Perhaps another day, when I’m on the clock. As it stands, I refuse to set foot in my lab on my day off.” Corroserum said firmly. “But I certainly can show you my notes and data.”

---

Corroserum unlocked a filing cabinet and searched through the endless rows of folders inside.

“Let’s see. Ah, here we are. The cotton-safe solvent. Feel free to look at it, even take a photographic copy of it. There aren’t any breaches of confidentiality here. This never got past the testing phase.”

Thorns accepted the papers and began skimming through them, noting formulae and observations. The Doctor peered over the Aegir’s shoulder to inspect the information as well.

Corroserum’s solvent worked without additional water. Interesting. That meant it could be sprayed on and left to dry, having broken down common dirt and food particles into easy to blow off dust.

“Are you sure this isn’t patented somewhere?” The Doctor asked. There was no way some Columbian company didn’t have something like this.

“Not with Raythean, I can assure you. First, I only tested cottons. A consumer product needs to work on all common fabric types, lest a customer file a complaint that their clothes now have holes in them because they didn’t read the instructions. Second, something like this would render washing machines obsolete. And considering Raythean’s vast catalog of large machinery, you can see why this never went far .”

The Doctor nodded. Right, the purpose of selling innovations wasn’t to help customers, it was to make profit. And sometimes the best way to make a profit is to sell customers an overly complicated solution.

Thorns handed Corroserum the papers back. The Aegir hadn’t even taken his phone out. Was he not impressed or did he think he had it memorized? Corroserum placed the papers back into their appropriate folder, then replaced them in the exact spot he had taken them out of initially.

This was the only neatness present in his room, the rest of it was slightly less messy than Thorns’ place. There weren’t clothes strewn about everywhere, nor was there a panic panel. But the place did show signs that Corroserum experimented with things in his free time if the random stains and spots of bare metal were any indication.

“There’s a wild disconnect, isn’t there?” The Doctor remarked as he looked around. All of Corroserum’s business stuff, his work phones for both Rhodes and Raythean, his laptops, even his files, were kept immaculate. His personal stuff, on the other hand, was messy.

The contrast between the neat organization of icons on his work laptops compared to the absolute mess that was his personal laptop was another example of that. For work, folders neatly organized by project and date, with the appropriate names for each to ensure that everyone knew what was what.

For his private laptop, a mess of icons on the screen. Multiple unnamed files just called “new” with ascending numbers. 8 was the highest the Doctor could find. And then a bunch of movies just saved on the desktop.

“Maintaining a strict separation between work and relaxation is important for the mind. That means compartmentalizing certain habits as well, don’t you think?”

“There is one habit that hasn’t been compartmentalized.” The Doctor teased.

Corroserum let out a laugh. “Yes, I suppose my manner of speech is engraved into my mind at this point. Unfortunately, I have to maintain it in my correspondences with Raythean.” He turned to look at Thorns. “I do have to commend you for being able to understand me. Many here don’t much like the nature in which I talk.”

“I know someone else like you.” Thorns replied. “Well, you’re easier to talk to. He’s much noisier. While somehow saying nothing of value.”

“The Liberi that’s with you often? Elysium, was it?”

Thorns nodded.

“Haha. That one is certainly an interesting character. His knowledge of scouting is invaluable whenever I have worked with him in the field. But despite his competence, I can’t help but feel that he gives off an unreliable air.”

“He does.” The Doctor admitted. “But he is a good operator.”

“I would never protest otherwise. Oh, but Thorns here probably doesn’t want to hear us praise his friend as if Elysium was employee of the month. So I will admit, I’m shocked his behavior has yet to cause any reports of harassment.”

“Judging by what he’s up to now, that might change.” Thorns said. His voice was mostly deadpan, but also a little hopeful for some reason.

“Don’t worry, he can be obnoxious at times, but he’s never crossed the line before. His captain would never let him hear the end of it if he did.” The Doctor said.

“By Rhodes Island’s standards, of course. Any other organization would see him terminated post-haste.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Rhodes Island was far more casual an organization than its peers. That was both good and bad. Good in that it let people be themselves. Bad in that it let people be themselves. “So, between Raythean and here, which one do you prefer?”

“Can I not say both?” Corroserum joked. “Raythean has the resources and connections. Rhodes Island has the spirit. If there were a merger between the two companies, that would be swell.”

The Doctor laughed humorlessly. None of their leaders would ever consider doing something like that.

“Spirit?” Thorns asked.

“Researchers like the three of us want to push the envelope. Redefine the limitations of modern science. At any other company, though, that is not the priority of researchers. At those companies, the purpose of researchers is to make products.”

The Pythia pointed to a case containing parts for his weapon. Most of the parts were from Rhodes Island’s Engineering department now rather than Raythean’s foundries. “My personal weapon has seen drastic improvement in durability and efficiency ever since I came here. But, if I were to transmit my findings to Raythean’s production and marketing teams, I highly doubt they’ll be as thrilled.”

“Because they can’t sell as much?” The Doctor guessed. Even weapon companies had to balance making something effective enough that people will buy their stuff with making something that won’t last forever, so that people buy more stuff in the future.

“Precisely. At most companies, researchers are beholden to the will of finance and quotas. Making big strides all at once means having no innovations to show next quarter, thus we are forced to limit our own progress for the sake of consumer hype. And then of course the endless politicking that renders even the most brilliant project leads paranoid, focused more on maintaining the reputation they’ve accrued over actual research. Even the Warbreakers division isn’t immune to that.”

“Sounds like a pain.” Thorns chimed in. Inquisitorial meddling had stifled any and all innovation in his homeland. Iberia, once at the forefront of intellectual pursuit, now clung to decades old advancements locked in vaults in one Inquisition stronghold or other. While Aegir like him were permitted back on a case-by-case basis. And even then, only under the watchful eye of an Inquisitor.

“Oh, it is. Not to mention the constant demands from my old supervisor for neutralizers to my solutions. Then counters to those neutralizers. Then counters to those counters.” The list goes on as Corroserum took out a collection of vials. The labels started legible enough, but with every “counter” that got added, the font got smaller and smaller until the words were nothing more than small wavy lines on a strip of paper.

“Mind if I take some?” Thorns asked as he reached a hand out.

“I’ll have to decline.” Corroserum said as he pulled the container back. “The composition and usage of these chemicals are strictly proprietary knowledge of Raythean.”

Thorns stopped, his hand still hovering near a vial. He complied for now, but the Doctor could see him eyeing the liquids all the same.

“Well, there are still issues here. The constant squabbling over resources is unfortunately a reality in any organization.” The Doctor said, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere else. Another area where the diverse crew of Rhodes Island made it difficult. In any other company, conflicts like those never escalated beyond a few passive-aggressive emails at most. Here, the conflicts often became just flat-out aggressive. “Just yesterday, I had to break up a fight two engineers were having over who got to use one of the big 3D printers.”

“Didn’t they settle it with a fight on the deck?” Thorns asked. He had heard about it from Elysium, something about a giant robot. The Aegir was busy with a delicate experiment, and Elysium had distracted him, which resulted in an erroneous ratio that caused the whole solution to be rendered junk.

“I’d argue that’s the problem.”

“At the same time, that did provide those two valuable data, did it not? That mechanic woman seemed real pleased, even after her machine malfunctioned.” Corroserum said.

“Trust me, it used to be worse.” The Doctor grimaced. “Apparently, Warfarin used to kidnap people and strap them to an operating table.”

“She still tries to do that.” Thorns said. The Doctor swiveled his head over to Thorns in panic. “I just remembered why she let me borrow that centrifuge. Se wanted me to make a sedative.”

“Why you?”

“She wanted to knock out one of those Abyssal Hunters.”

“She’s still on about that?” The Doctor groaned. Looking back through the past few months, there weren’t any incidents regarding those ones. Aside from a certain haunting. But nothing involving the Vampire. Maybe they were made of sterner stuff than what Thorns could create.

“I did say I thought this place was far more lenient than other companies, but this would absolutely cross even your line, would it not?” Corroserum asked. Despite the matter at hand, the Pythia was still grinning. Perhaps interested in whether or not Warfarin managed to do the impossible.

The Doctor rubbed his temples. “I thought she stopped, but…I’ll talk to her later.”

“If we’re airing covered up violations, I might as well confess now while the Doctor is still reeling.” Corroserum joked as he took a plastic bin out from under his bed.

“What now?”

The Pythia took out a spray can. “A reimagining of an old project of mine. Insoluble spray paint. Now twice as resistant as the old formula.”

“That was you?” The Doctor’s eye widened in realization. A month ago, when Rhodes Island docked with another city for resupply, some rather colorful graffiti had been drawn on the side of the hull. It took days of scrubbing and using every cleaning chemical they had available to wash it all off. The culprits were a couple of infected children they had on board, but they couldn’t have devised something like this on their own. And now the mastermind behind it all was right in front of him, shrugging unrepentantly.

“I knew they were going to conduct some mischief, but I didn’t realize they had the climbing equipment and expertise to get over there. Now, as for my motive, I was simply feeling nostalgic.”

“Nostalgic?” Thorns asked. “One of your earlier projects?”

“Before I even got a job. Back when I was just a humble student.” Corroserum answered proudly.

“You were already experimenting with stuff like this, even back then?” The Doctor asked. “Never took you for a punk.”

“I wasn’t. I was quite privileged to live a rather stable middle class life, so no need to vent my frustrations out on the streets. But there were those in worse circumstances that did. I simply gave them a way to do so while ensuring that the city didn’t undo their hard work. At least not without working hard themselves. After all, there’s nothing worse than pouring energy into something passionate only for some distant authority to step in and put a stop to it all.”

“Alright. Alright.” The Doctor laughed as he recalled how Closure was fuming when she found out. But the graffiti was ultimately harmless. A bit crass, but nothing obscene or offensive. He picked up a can of spray paint. “We have been looking for something to paint the exterior hull with, is this thing good for overall weathering or just water?”

“I haven’t done enough tests to figure that out. But I can certainly forward the materials for it. Once I clock in. Plus, since this is a leisure project, I will have to create the documentation from scratch first.”

“No problem, we’re not in a rush. Mind if I take this back to my room?” The Doctor asked. He waited as Corroserum secured everything and powered down his devices. As they step out and walk into the hallway, Thorns followed slightly behind them.

“You know he took one of those corrosive agents, right?” The Doctor whispered.

“I figured he would. While this is technically a breach of our agreement, so long as he doesn’t disseminate his findings, I’m willing to let him indulge his curiosity a little.”

“We’ll know soon enough, if he ends up walking out of his lab naked.” The Doctor joked.

---

“Ah, forgot I left those out.” The Doctor said as he put the can of spray paint aside. He had been so busy he had forgotten to clean up his room. As such, there were plenty of papers scattered around, not unlike the other two now that he thinks about it.

“I suppose we all have this in common.” Thorns said as he looked through some of the Doctor’s notes. Mostly handwritten scribbles on pieces of scrap paper. Something about originium chemistry. The Aegir couldn’t grasp more than the most basic principles. “What’s this for?”

“Do you remember that time we went straight through a catastrophe?” Thorns nodded, but didn’t say anything further. Corroserum was roused from inspecting the Doctor’s literature. This must’ve been before the Pythia’s time here. If Raythean had known about this, he would’ve never gotten permission to come aboard. And so, he had to know more.

“Doctor, exactly what circumstances would compel you to navigate into a catastrophe?” Corroserum asked.

“If I remember correctly, multiple cyclone systems merged together too rapidly for us to steer away.” Thorns said.

“Right. And I helped us thread the needle.”

“I see. I had known you were a genius before. This is simply another achievement to add to your rather lofty pile.” Corroserum said, which made the Doctor chuckle sheepishly.

“Honestly, most of the work was done by a lot of the other researchers. If Eyjafjalla didn’t share her own theories the morning prior, I probably wouldn’t have gotten the idea.” Not to mention the lingering memories from his old research. “But it was really touch and go for most of it.”

“Your behavior in the command room hid it well. If you didn’t tell us, I would’ve assumed you were some sort of oracle.” Thorns remarked as he looked at the notes again. “Is this an attempt to formalize the theories applied in that scenario?”

“Something like that. You know, in case someone else is stupid enough to drive a landship through a catastrophe.” The Doctor laughed. But the other purpose was to try and jog his memory. See if any other lingering theories or ideas fell out of his head. Alas, to no avail. What he had remembered in that instant stayed, but nothing else came to light. Even as he stared at the notes he wrote on what he did remember. Maybe he had to be in a certain state of mind. Considering how much he could recall in states of extreme stress, perhaps the old him was an adrenaline junkie?

“I guess even the brilliant have bad days every once in a while.” Corroserum looked through more of the Doctor’s notes. Ones on the effects of originium on cerebrospinal fluid. Even though that was very far away from Corroserum’s field, he could tell the Doctor wasn’t making much headway given all the scratching out was done.

“We have certain patients for whom this is applicable.” The Doctor said as he took a sheet of paper and looked at it again. He was still stumped, but he didn’t feel bad about it. Being on the bleeding edge of research meant having no idea what was happening. It was comforting, having a new intellectual frontier, one not haunted by the memory of forgotten insights lost to time. Where he could use his talents in the now instead of constantly digging into the foggy haze of eons past. It felt like he was creating something new for once.

“Unfortunately, all of them have very unique circumstances, which makes gathering consistent data impossible.”

“I’m surprised you have the time to engage in research on top of commanding field operations, not to mention your administrative duties.” Corroserum remarked. Even with the Doctor occasionally pressganging some operators as assistants, his workload never seemed to diminish.

“That’s just how things are. The higher you go, the more duties end up on your plate.” The Doctor stretched, these little chats were technically supposed to be a break to improve his mental state, but he just as often used them to monitor the operators as well. Their mental wellness, and their social cohesion. That’s not to say he didn’t enjoy them, quite the opposite. “If you ever get to the point where you lead your own team, you’ll start thinking like me soon enough.”

“Adopting your mentality, exhausting it may appear, is certainly preferable to some other mindsets I’ve had the displeasure of witnessing.” Corroserum admitted. Doing so at Raythean would be a nightmare. But here, perhaps he’ll get an opportunity soon enough. Make something unbound by corporate expectations. Then he could make something really exceptional.

“Will you also be commanding us in the field?” Thorns joked in a deadpan voice.

“I will leave that to people well-versed in military science.” Corroserum replied. “Such as the Doctor here.”

“I wouldn’t call myself very educated in the art of war. More…experienced than educated.”

“Odd. Your command style has always felt calculated. Efficient.” Thorns said.

Corroserum nodded. “It always feels like you have the entire battlefield under your control. You always exceed any predictive model.”

“Practical experience trumps theoretical experience. And I have a lot of practical experience.” The Doctor said. Even if he couldn’t recall everything, the muscle memory, the instinct, was there. It was just a case of making sense of it all. “Plus, I assume your studies are derived from Columbian schools of thought, am I correct? The reliance on technology and distance harkens to it.”

Corroserum nodded. And then the Doctor turned to Thorns. “You’re not a tactician, I know. But the way you fight is distinctly Iberian.”

“Did my Destreza swordsmanship not clue you in?”

“It’s not just that. It’s the way you approach fights. How you size up your enemy. Not only technique, but also mentality. That can inform you about how your opponent will act. It’s how I’m so good at predicting. Sort of like how experienced musicians can figure out where a song will go, even if they’ve never heard it before.” The Doctor said.

An idea suddenly came to mind. He didn’t contribute much to their mutual exchange of knowledge, most of his research didn’t interest the two of them. But fighting techniques were something both of them could find uses for. And so he searched for some materials he had stored.

“Say, why don’t I give you two some extra material. It might even help your research out.”

“Is this additional homework? I’ll have you know I’m no longer in any educational program.” Corroserum asked jokingly as the Doctor handed him a translated Leithanian caster manual.

“Just some leisure reading. These manuals are meant for beginners, you’ll probably have no problem understanding them. Leithenian Arts have very similar applications to your own weapon. Similar, but not the same. Try to figure out these differences, why they exist, and how that impacts subconscious actions. It might let you see your work in a new light.”

“Ah, I get it. Not unlike thinking about anything but your work when you’re stuck in a rut.” Corroserum said as he set the manual aside. He doubted there would be much of use, but maybe one or two snippets would be a goldmine for new insights.

“What’s this?” Thorns asked as he was handed a small book depicting various swordplay stances.

“If you’ve ever faced Sharp, this is part of the style he prefers. One of them at least. It’s has similarity to your Destreza, but is still quite different.” The Doctor replied.

“Wouldn’t this be the domain of the instructors?”

“For training people, yes. But I have them so I can figure out the tactics of the people we face.” While he was loath to put his operators in danger, the Doctor had to admit: there was a part of him that relished facing off against new enemies. Figuring out what they do, how they act, and why. Not unlike his scientific work, the unknown is exhilarating in a way.

“Just make sure you follow proper safety procedures if you come up with new ideas, yeah? I can assure you, the instructors are far less lenient than me.” The Doctor joked. This place, though lacking in resources, had a few things its competitors didn’t. Easy cross-disciplinary collaboration, and freedom of intellectual pursuit, within the boundary of ethics. Perhaps that’s what attracted so many brilliant minds to this place.

Of course, that brilliance comes with eccentricity. He of all people knew that fact. And the idle theorizing Thorns and Corroserum bounced against each other just reinforced it. The Doctor let out a sigh. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any accidents in the near future.

---

HR Department Harassment and Complaints Database

4 Days Ago

Entry Created By: HR00143

Witnesses: Have requested to remain anonymous

Description:

- Operators Thorns and Elysium were sighted leaving Thorns’ room with their clothes in tatters, with large amounts of smoke emanating from the bedroom

- Rumors about what happened have begun spreading like wildfire. And have gotten quite exaggerated.

- Upon interrogation of Thorns, several unsanctioned chemical compounds were found inside. Including one that breached a Raythean-Rhodes Island agreement.

- Operator Corroserum has reported no knowledge of any theft of Raythean property.

Decisions:

- The compound that was responsible for the destruction of their clothing has since been confiscated. Elysium has had his pay docked for a day for complicity. Thorns has had his pay docked for a week, and much of his lab equipment has been impounded for safety inspections.

- IT Team has been tasked with removing any embarrassing photographs and videos taken during the incident. While such an incident may be self-inflicted, no employee or patient deserves to be humiliated for everyone to see in perpetuity.

“They never learn.” Weedy muttered as she used her water cannon to spray down Thorns’ room. This wasn’t the first time she had to clean up after those two. And it probably won’t be the last. At least nothing was on fire this time.

“This was well within the realm of prediction given their prior behavior.” Corroserum said as he sprayed neutralizer on a puddle of unknown composition. The pool of liquid sizzled as it dissipated into the air.

“Did you have something to do with this?”

“What a researcher does with materials is entirely their own responsibility should they not be under the commands of someone else.” The Pythia said evasively. He would have to talk to Thorns later, see if there were any new insights. In person, though. After that incident, their messages were definitely being monitored.

“Whatever.” Weedy said dismissively. “Say, we could alternate responsibilities if those two clowns screw up again.”

“That is not within the responsibilities of my contract.”

“Considering what we found at the crime scene, Closure just might amend it.” Weedy warned. “Although, given how effective those neutralizers of yours are, I wouldn’t be opposed to shouldering the burden alone. Provided I get some new sterilizing agents.”

Corroserum chuckled. And here he thought she was one of the responsible researchers here. Perhaps an insatiable desire to test out new toys was a prerequisite for people like them.

---

Chapter Text

Chips were slid forwards. Croissant pointed to a folded up T-shirt and held two fingers up. Archetto shook her head and pointed to the red poker chips on the table. She held five fingers up.

Croissant grinned as she brought out a can of soda. Then held up four fingers.

“I don’t even like that flavor.” Archetto blurted out. She gasped and covered her mouth as Croissant laughed.

“Looks like you lose again!” The Forte said as she opened the soda can and chugged.

“Agh! This is hard!” Archetto pouted. After Croissant had regaled Archetto with a story about how she managed to negotiate with a village in Sargon without even speaking their language, Archetto wanted to learn her secrets. Turns out, non-verbal communication was trickier than she thought it would be. “In real life, surely you’d be able to talk. Use the tone of your voice to help.”

“Hmm? Yeah. But you gotta be careful.” Croissant said as she casually waved around an empty can. “People might mishear ya. Think ya said a dirty word in their language. Or they might misread your tone. Some places are cool with raising your voice, others you gotta speak real quietly.”

“I see.” Archetto nodded, studiously taking Croissant’s advice. Her own mentors had discussed such things before. Rhetorical training, they said, ways to make sermons more engaging by having a certain posture, gesturing at certain times. Perhaps she could apply those lessons to commerce as well.

“Take it this way. Ya know Eurill and his boy?”

Archetto nodded. “Does your company also have association with MountainDash?”

Croissant giggled. “Our bosses…know each other. Let’s just leave it at that. But, like, when that old cow talks, you listen, yeah? And he makes you wanna talk freely, like you’re the only person he’s giving his attention to, even though ya know he’s already thinking about his next five meetings.”

“And it’s all in his mannerisms, yes?” Croissant gave her a thumbs up.

“While the kid…he’s serious, too serious. Like a stiff board. Just makes you wanna tease him.”

“I have seen him running with you folks often.” Archetto said. She held back the fact that most people thought of him as their whipping boy, that would probably make Croissant give him an even harder time.

Speaking of Penguin Logistics, some of the members piqued the cleric’s interest. Exusiai, certainly, because of the Sankta’s reputation in Laterano. But also that idol of theirs.

“Say, is Sora here right now?”

“Yes…” Croissant answered teasingly. Croissant had seen a few of her friend’s albums on Archetto’s desk. Maybe the cleric was a fan? “But don’t go asking me for an autograph. You’d have to get in line for that.”

“That wasn’t my intention. Um…” The Liberi blushed a little before asking her next question. “I was just wondering if I could ask her for advice. You know, on marketing?”

“Marketing? Wait…” Croissant laughed as she recalled that one idol concert MountainDash sponsored. Someone looked familiar to Hildegard, but she just thought that was a coincidence at the time. “No way. That one concert, that was you?”

Archetto nodded bashfully, which made Croissant smile even wider.

“Ya know, some folks back in Lungmen like playing your songs during the holidays.” This caused Archetto to howl and cover her rapidly reddening face.

“Please desist! The sisters already teased me for that.”

“Well, with my entrepreneurial expertise, I’d say you ought to lean into that. Make a whole album of carols. Who knows, maybe one day, you’ll have a smash hit that people are sick of hearing 24/7 during December.”

“Absolutely not!” Archetto crossed her arms. “My superiors would never let me hear the end of it! They’ll probably play it in the monastery all the time if I did that.”

“Darn. Guess that opportunity’s closed off.” Croissant feigned a frown for a moment before bouncing back to her usual happy self. “But if you still want advice from Sora on how to make it in show biz, well…we don’t just let anyone see her.”

“A messenger just dropped off the latest batch of beer from Landen Monastery.” Archetto began, this caused the Forte to raise an eyebrow happily. “I was intending to pass it around for people to sample, but maybe a certain logistics company could get first dibs on a few cans.”

“Heh. I’ll have to appraise it first, missy. Don’t wanna get swindled by swill, now.”

“I assure you, it’s quality product. But, if you’re still that determined to inspect it, I want some sort of guarantee that I get time with Sora.”

“Now you’re getting it. Best I can offer is my own word. That hold any weight for ya?”

Archetto nodded. That would probably be the best she could negotiate. As the two of them walked back to her room, Hildegard started wondering what she would even ask Sora. She didn’t intend to become an idol professionally. Honestly, it was only for the sake of marketing Landen Monastery’s admittedly limited stock. But maybe that thing about selling records could work. It would be something that wasn’t limited by the monastery’s output. And MountainDash Logistics clearly had the infrastructure in place to make and distribute them on her behalf. She would have to expand her repertoire of songs first, though. Hymns and prayers won’t have that much staying power.

“So, how are you gonna measure your success? Record sales? Autographs? Biggest audience? Number of converts?” Croissant teased.

“C-converts? The others, I understand, but surely you jest about the last one.”

“Why not? I can see the marketing campaign now.” Croissant held her hands up in front of her. “Get baptized and up your chances of meeting Hildegard, Landen Monastery’s cutest cleric. Go on a pilgrimage and sample Landen beer, straight from the tap.”

The Liberi buried her face in her hands again as Croissant continued making increasingly zany schemes.

---

“Guh! That should do it.” Asbestos muttered as she finished turning the wheel to an airlock. No way that crazy lady could follow her here.

“Huh? Isn’t that the emergency exit?” A small voice behind the Savra caused her to jump a little. She scowled as she turned around to see a child patient staring at her. This caused her to soften her frightening expression, just a little bit. Nevertheless, the child was unperturbed by the Savra’s toothy scowl. “I thought we were never supposed to open it unless something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, well, something is wrong for me, kid.” Asbestos muttered as she forced the wheel to turn a few more degrees. No way a weakling like Frost could loosen this now. “If some lady in a beanie comes here, you didn’t see me.”

“Is she angry at you?”

“No.” Curse that Magallan, signing her up for this stupid icebreaker. If anyone needed an icebreaker, it was the penguin that lived at the north pole for most of the year, not her. “Crazy lady followed my down the halls. Into a supply closet. And then down to the boiler rooms. Always knew where I would be hiding.”

“Oh! You’re playing hide and seek!” The child exclaimed excitedly. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone where you are.”

“Y’know what? I’ll take it.” Asbestos said as she wandered off. A few staff members glanced at her suspiciously as she peeked from behind a doorway. She half expected Frost to be waiting for her at the end of the hall.

Thankfully, the coast was clear, and so the Savra slinked away. Back towards her room. They had been at this since the morning, and it was already the afternoon. Asbestos’ stomach growled, which caused her to frown again, causing people near her to quicken their pace.

Instead of eating lunch at her usual time, she had been hiding in the kitchen’s massive walk-in freezer, next to what would be tonight’s dinner.

That encounter spooked her. Apparently Frost had been waiting in there before Asbestos had even entered the kitchen. And damn close, too. The Savra never even saw the woman’s breath the entire time. Was it some sort of technique, or was she undead or something?

They both spent half an hour in there freezing their asses off. Of course, Asbestos was the only one bothered by it. Frost seemed entirely comfortable in that icebox. She even had the gall to roll up her sleeves. It was obvious Frost was playing around, that she saw Asbestos as her prey. But Asbestos wouldn’t be frightened by that, oh no. It just pissed her off. Motivated her to keep running.

“Not like it’ll matter much now.” Asbestos muttered as she punched in the code for her lock. She had been avoiding this place all throughout their little chase. Hopefully Frost wouldn’t track her down here.

She took a step inside. A light tug on her leg. She looked down, seeing a string held taut in front of her door.

“Of all the…” Asbestos seethed as she looked at the woman seated on her desk chair, reading a survival guide. “Who’s the scumbag that let you in?!”

“Your friend.” Frost replied without looking up. “Also, operator dorm assignments are accessible to all employees and contractors.”

Asbestos gritted her teeth. “Mind explaining why you’ve been chasing me around?”

“Because our arrangement is to exchange personal effects.” Frost replied professionally. “And if you wanted me to cease, you could’ve just told me rather than running around the ship. That’s what your friend said.”

“Magallan? What sorta bullshit did she pump you with?”

“If Asbestos tells you to leave, just let her go.” Frost parroted Magallan’s text. “But if she makes a run for it, just have fun with her.”

Asbestos just sighed as she deflated. “Fine. Fine. Good game, I guess. But don’t get too comfy, once we’re done with this little tour, you need to get ou–“

Frost held out a boxed lunch. “Our chase interrupted your lunch. Here. You’ll be in much better shape with a full stomach.”

“What are you? My mom?” Asbestos asked. Regardless of her protests, she took the boxed lunch and began eating it. Intermittently pointing to various things in her room in between bites and delivering terse comments. Occasionally while still chewing on her food. Something Frost visibly disapproved of, which just goaded the Savra to do it more.

“Your records…” Frost stared at the messy library Asbestos kept next to her synthesizers.

“What about ‘em?”

“Do you mind if I organize them?”

“The hell you are! They’re neat enough as is.” Asbestos answered defensively. That was a complete lie, she just put them back wherever there was space.

“How about I arrange them in alphabetical order? Or release year? Or perhaps by most used?”

“How would you know the last one?”

“You could tell me, or I could guess based on the wear and tear of the covers.”

“Tch. If you wanna be a maid, then knock yourself out.” While Frost busied herself with that, Asbestos kept eating while staring out her window. To a forest near the landship. They would be stopped here for a few days. But even if they weren’t, she’d still go out there. Maybe there was something to see. Some lake hidden in the woods. Maybe a cavern that no one’s been in before. Or maybe a glade with some undiscovered species of plants and animals.

“You wish to scout out our surroundings?” Frost asked.

“Pfft. Nah. I’ll leave that to the actual explorers. Me? I just wanna see the sights.”

“I was intending to conduct a wilderness expedition myself. Would you like accompaniment?”

“Ugh…Having to camp with you?”

“I can certainly hide myself if that makes you more comfortable.”

“You know what? The thought of you skulking around the same woods as me is annoying. So why not? That way, I know where you and all your traps are.”

“Alright.” Frost gave the Savra a curt smile. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. This doesn’t make us friends, though.”

“I never implied otherwise.” Frost made a mental note to report back to Magallan later. Overall, the day went better than expected. The thrill of chasing down an elusive target was a new experience. One that reminded her of when she first started hunting. Perhaps she could even make good on the Doctor’s request to drag Asbestos back for treatment, should the Savra ever prove truant.

---

“Come on, even here?” Catapult whined as she looked at Myrrh's desk, completely covered in vials and bags and herbs. What was it with the medics and bringing their work back home?

“U-um. My medicine, my unique medicine, that is…requires certain things.”

“Oh? Is equipment an issue? I can certainly scrounge up some if that’s the case.” Catapult offered nonchalantly. Most of the fancy stuff just sat in one doctor’s lab or another. They wouldn’t mind it went to a better home, surely.

Myrrh shook her head, having figured out what Catapult implied. “It’s not that. It’s something only my people know how to do.”

“Folk medicine, huh?”

Myrrh nodded. Thanks to Rhodes Island, she was accustomed to using modern medical practices now. She even preferred using it over what she had been taught earlier. But practicing it the old way had a sentimental charm to it. “Haah. Too bad it’s still all so bitter. Miss Lena had given me a few herbs and spices, but they can only mask it so much.”

“Try mixing it with fruit juice.” Catapult replied. “It’ll still have that nasty ass cough syrup taste, but it’s at least a little bit more palatable.”

“Oh? Is that what you do?”

The Kuranta chuckled dryly. “Only cuz I have a little kid on my team. Getting her to take her medicine is a pain. So that method makes it slightly less agonizing.”

Catapult shuddered as she recalled the many, many times when Popukar was forced to take medicine the girl didn’t want. At least Catapult knew to confiscate that girl’s chainsaw now before anyone tried anything. But even then, it still wasn’t uncommon for one or two of them to end up on the floor during Popukar’s rampage.

“And if that doesn’t work, bribery does.”

“Bribery?”

“Ya know. Sweets. Extra play time. A bigger allowance. Honestly, all of these work on adults as well.”

“I see. Perhaps I should try that with Harmonia, then. She has been complaining to me about her treatments lately. I’m worried she might start skipping some of them.”

“Your roommate?” Catapult asked. She had noticed that the room was a double. She just figured Myrrh was rooming up with another medic.

“My friend. She’s the reason I’m here.” Myrrh paused for a moment and frowned. “And I’m the reason she’s sick.”

Catapult was speechless. She couldn’t believe it, but she wished Midnight was here. That guy’s an idiot, but he knew how to comfort people in this situation. Unfortunately, she’ll have to do in this case.

The Kuranta grumbled to herself as she searched through her pockets, pulling out a few pieces of candy and some packets of water flavoring.

“Look, I ain’t got much, but next time you see this friend of yours, give these to her.”

“P-please, I couldn’t.”

Catapult pushed her offering into Myyrh’s hand. “Come on, just try it. I was gonna give the candy to Popukar later, but what the hell. She’s a big girl now. She can handle a day without people fawning over her and giving her treats. Oh, and also…”

“Mhm?”

“Save some for yourself.” Catapult smirked. “Try the apricot flavoring. It’s my favorite.”

---

“Welcome,” Midnight flourished to his and Spot’s room, “to our sanctuary of masculinity.”

“Never call our dorm that ever again.” Spot spat out as he slumped into a beanbag. It was almost time for dinner and they haven’t even started on the second half of the tour. The two motormouths with him insisted on chatting with everyone that stopped by to talk to them. No instances of them getting hit, unfortunately, but there will always be time for that in the future. He could just feel it.

“I certainly hope we’ve cleaned up enough to meet your standards.” Midnight said.

“We had to take down all the pictures this guy hung up of himself.” Spot snarked.

“So where did you stuff them all?” Elysium joked.

“The window.” Spot replied.

“Come now, I’m not that vain.” Midnight protested while grinning. “If I were to have mementos extolling myself, it ought to be what I received from others. Such as this.”

Midnight took an embroidered handkerchief out from his desk. Spot squinted, staring at the familiar pattern.

“Isn’t that Orchid’s? Looks like the one she’s been looking for since last month.” Midnight then hastily hid the handkerchief away while mumbling something about returning it later.

“Haha! Seems you folks have quite the close relationship.” Elysium remarked. His squad was like that as well. He had met a kindred spirit in Midnight, it seemed, if they’re relations to their captains were anything like he thought. “Spot, do you perhaps have your partner beat in the paramour category?”

“See for yourself.” Spot tossed a notepad Elysium’s way before taking a comic book out of his bookshelf. The Liberi raised an eyebrow as he looked at the numbers written all over the page. He flipped a page. Another one filled. He flipped it again. Yet another. All in different handwriting too. Now he’s surprised.

“Didn’t realize we had a Casanova here.”

“Trust me, I ain’t got any charm.” Spot pointed a thumb at Midnight. “But when you’re competing with that guy – Ha – spite can be a powerful motivation for some people.”

“Ah yes. That one time I managed to convince you to compete with me.” Midnight said.

“Our illustrious captain wanted you to stop flirting with people.” Spot clarified. “I just drew the short straw.”

“So what pick-up lines did you use to convince this many people?” Elysium asked. Spot had seven pages, front and back, filled with people’s numbers. Seven.

“If I win, Midnight won’t bother you. Shockingly effective.” Spot said. This caused Elysium to throw his head back and laugh. Even Midnight just smirked at the memory of it all. There was no rule that said they had to be genuine about their interest. He should’ve gone with a more game-like approach like Spot if he wanted to win.

“I’m still more experienced with actual intimacy.” Midnight countered.

“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever you say.”

“Spot, my friend, should you ever need advice, I’m always available.”

“I’m fine. Got enough friends and acquaintances on board.”

Spot waved around the comic he was reading. “See? Even borrowed this from a girl here.”

“The sullen one always reading in a corner?” Midnight asked. Spot just nodded.

“I remember her.” Elysium said. “She was rather moved by a certain story once. To the point of being a sobbing wreck.”

“That’s…” Spot groaned. “That story was crap. But sometimes things just hit too close to home. Gotta be careful with the stuff I recommend her.”

Spot held up the comic he was reading through. A sci-fi thriller, based on the artwork on the cover. “Sometimes I vet things for her if she’s interested. Real pain making sure she knows what’s coming while not spoiling all the twists.”

“He’s a reliable one.” Elysium whispered to Midnight. The Sarkaz simply nodded proudly. Regardless of the defender’s barbs, Midnight knew he could trust Spot when it mattered. “Much more responsible than my counterpart.”

“It helps to not be complicit in their shenanigans.” Midnight said.

“If you two are gonna mumble to each other, you could at least get me something from the cafeteria.”

---

Robin babbled incoherently as Kafka pushed her onto a couch. Her eyelids drooped down, until she shook her head and lightly slapped her cheeks. A little break would be fine, so long as she didn’t fall asleep.

“You’ve been spending your vacation days doing side gigs again, haven’t you?” Kafka jabbed a finger at Robin. “The whole point of vacation days is to make money by doing absolutely nothing.”

“That’s…not really the intention.” Mountain chimed in. Kafka raised her other hand to the Feline’s face to silence him.

“You don’t get to talk either, big guy. You’ve been on way too many field assignments lately.”

“B-but, my father’s starting a new treatment soon.” Robin weakly protested.

“So he’ll be drugged out of his mind. Perfect for dedicating some time to yourself.”

“I agree that Miss Robin needs to prioritize her own health more, but…”

“No buts! And you need some R&R as well, mister.” Kafka snickered as she handed to two of them fliers for some program HR was putting on.

“Come on, Mina and I had fun with this.”

“H-huh?” Robin gripped the flier hard enough to tear it. “B-but…my room is so messy.”

“Cool. We can clean it up beforehand then.”

“Given my status, would letting the others here get closer really be a good idea?” Mountain protested.

“Buddy, if Kafka’s intel network is accurate, then ya don’t rank that high on the most wanted list here. Besides,” Kafka grinned slyly, “Olivia and Domma think it’s gonna great for the both of ya. Don’t wanna make either of them sad, right?”

---

“You’re gonna be there, right?” Akafuyu asked.

“Utage wouldn’t stop bugging me about it, so yep.” Kirara replied blithely, not even bothering to look away from her monitor. Akafuyu sighed.

“If you don’t show up, I’m not helping you with that event next week. The time limited one that’s really hard and needs a team..” This caused Kirara to bristle. Now she would take it seriously.

“Ugh. Fine. Guess I’ll clear my dailies in the morning so I can pretend to be a normie for a day. Does that make you happy?”

“It’s not my happiness on the line here. And when you mean morning…”

“When it resets at 3 AM, duh.”

Akafuyu sighed. She’ll have to set an extra alarm for Kirara. Maybe even wake Kirara up herself.

---

“Man, why can’t I just hang out with Warfarin again?” Aak whined as the others in Lee’s Detective Agency rubbed their foreheads.

“Just give it a chance.” Hung said reassuringly. “You might even find another person you can talk science with.”

“And here I am paired up with another kid.” Lee grumbled.

“Were you seriously thinking about finding someone through a program like this?” Waai Fu asked.

“No, but I was hoping to hang out with someone old enough to drink.”

Hung chuckled and whispered to the tigress. “I give it five minutes before he starts doting on her. By the way, how’d you manage to convince Jaye of all people to take a day off and relax?”

“Told him it would be a good networking opportunity.” Waai Fu laughed. She couldn’t wait to find out what bizarre job Jaye managed to find out of this.

---

Phase Seven Groupings

Flint-Mountain-Waai Fu

Jaye-Robin

May-Shaw

Sora-Roberta

Goldenglow-Pudding-Kirara

Andreana-Adnachiel

Lee-Cuora

Tuye-Aak

Mousse-Doctor-Eyjafjalla

---

Chapter Text

Mountain felt uneasy as he made his way to the meeting room. Many people glanced at him as he walked by solely due to his large stature, but those were just glances, something that could be brushed off and ignored. Right now, he was being watched. It reminded him of when he first entered Mansfield. How every con in there would size him up from afar. 

Just outside the door of the designated meeting area, he suddenly stopped and swiveled around. A short Liberi was looking at him dead in the eye, her neck straining to do so as he got closer. Despite him having a good 40 centimeters or so on her, she didn’t flinch at all.

"Can I help you with something?" Mountain asked politely. The Liberi kept staring at him, and then at his hands. Her own still had wraps around them, partly masking a few fresh bruises and calluses. These calloused hands of hers were then raised up into a boxing stance. Or something similar to it. Certainly nothing Mountain had ever seen before.

"Wanna fight?" Flint asked bluntly. Mountain blinked a few times.

“Not now.”

“Then later.” Flint said without missing a beat. She lowered her fists, and then looked around for their third. 

“There you two are.” Waai Fu jogged over and sighed. “I rushed over as soon as I saw what was happening outside.”

“The situation was resolved peacefully.” Mountain said. Flint seemed to have calmed down at least. But asking for a duel is certainly an interesting way to introduce herself. He cleared his throat. “Shall we get introductions out of the way?”

“Alright. Guess I’ll start.” Waai Fu volunteered. “Code name Waai Fu. Part-time worker from Lee’s Detective Agency.”

“Code name Flint. Strongest and tallest of my tribe.” The Tiacauh Liberi said. Mountain and Waai Fu bit back their comments out of politeness for Flint, who was still staring at Waai Fu. “Do you wanna spar later, too?”

“Um. If I have the free time.”

“Code name Mountain.” He hesitated for a moment. “Ex-convict from Columbia. I hope my presence here does not offend your sensibilities, Waai Fu.”

“Hmm? Pay it no mind.” Waai Fu gave him a small grin. “Given the state of most justice systems in our world, a criminal record isn’t always a mark of villainy.” 

Mountain nodded gratefully. “Now then, who would like to go first?”

---

“Here it is.” Waai Fu said bashfully. Even though the room had been assigned to her for the entire duration of her employment at Rhodes Island, she had always treated it more like a hotel room than anything else, not bringing anything that couldn’t be packed up and carried back with her. As such, the place was ascetic, only slightly modified from the standard layout all new residents received. 

“You brought your study materials with you?” Mountain asked as he picked up a book from Waai Fu’s desk. A citation guide. They were already on the seventh edition? He remembered them being on the second in his youth. What could they possibly change that would warrant reprints?

“I don’t exactly have the luxury of taking my time compared to other students.” Waai Fu replied as Mountain placed the book back onto a veritable tower of similar materials. “My two jobs keep me occupied most of the time, on top of my martial arts. So finding even five or ten minutes to work on things is paramount.”

“I see.” He looked at the handouts stacked neatly on her desk. “I am familiar with some of these subjects. Even if I have no academic accreditation, should you ever need any advice or tutoring, I’d be happy to provide it.”

“Really now? How did you learn about such things if not in a school?”

“My prior life demanded familiarity with these topics.” Mountain said evasively. “But also, many see prison as nothing more than a waste of time. I chose to pursue self-improvement during my stint there. When you have nothing but time, any book can become riveting. I even convinced the warden to construct a library for the prisoners to use.” He said, a hint of pride in his voice. 

“That’s impressive.” Waai Fu said. That sort of attitude was commendable. If only the LGD had people like him around. She paused their discussion as she saw Flint staring at a training dummy she had borrowed from the instructors. “Sorry for talking so much. I suppose you don’t care much for academics.”

Flint turned to look at Waai Fu and shrugged. “This thing…” The Liberi said as she pinched one of the arms of the dummy. “Is it some sort of weird coat rack?”

“I…haha.” Waai Fu covered her mouth as she chuckled. “Uncle Lee would certainly use it as one. But that’s not the intended purpose. It’s a training dummy. We call it a muk yan jong.”

Waai Fu demonstrated a few moves on the dummy, and Flint’s eyes lit up instantly as she connected the dots. 

“I get it now.” Flint muttered as she jabbed the arms of the dummy a few times. “Hmm…It does look like something we’d make. Not intentionally, though.”

“I recognize that style of martial arts somewhere.” Mountain said as he put a hand to his chin. “But I can’t recall the name.”

“Wing Chun.” Waai Fu replied enthusiastically. “If you’re from Columbia, some of Lungmen’s movie stars used it. Hold on, I think I have some DVDs here.”

Waai Fu dug into her suitcase, pulling out a few films she had intended to leave behind for the movie club. Most were titles that already had global releases, but a few were hard to find outside of Lungmen proper. They didn’t even have subtitles, but considering the sheer variety of languages present at Rhodes Island, she was sure someone would translate them within a week or two. 

As Waai Fu pulled out a certain series, which Mountain recognized instantly.

“Those are the ones.” He said. “Robin, um, a friend of mine, showed them to me. She usually prefers older titles, so any newer films that get her attention usually stand out.”

“Is that so? Hmm…” Waai Fu searched through her suitcase again and pulled out some more. “She probably likes these ones, then. I wouldn’t call them timeless, they definitely show their age. But they’re still a good time.”

“Mind if I borrow this?” Flint suddenly asked while holding up a colorful DVD case.

“Go right ahead. These were meant to be a gift to begin with.” Waai Fu replied cheerfully, at least until she looked at the box Flint was holding. “Oh, but do bear in mind, that one’s a more obscure title that was never translated. Do you understand Lungmenite?”

Flint shook her head.

“Perhaps we should find someone that could add subtitles then.” Mountain suggested.

“No point.” Flint replied bluntly. “I can’t read well enough to follow what’s happening on screen. Is the action any good?”

“It is, I can assure you that.” Waai Fu said, which made Flint grin.

“Good enough for me, then.”

“Are you doing well in your language classes?” Mountain asked. He was occasionally a fellow student as well. Given that he now had to interact with people around the world, Mountain had been eager to gain practical experience in conversing in different languages. Although, he was a more studious person than the Liberi. For one, the teachers never scolded him for suddenly and noisily getting up and leaving.

“Huh? Beats me.” Flint replied flippantly. “I learn enough to have a conversation with people.”

“Or to challenge them to a duel?” Waai Fu jokingly asked. Flint, dead serious, nodded.

“Let us not ask about your grades then. Poor Waai Fu here would have a heart attack if she was ever a witness to your academic work ethic.” Mountain joked. For some reason, he got the feeling that there wasn’t a paper trail for Waai Fu to follow, which was a good thing.

“Would you like to borrow anything, Mountain?” Waai Fu suddenly asked. “I’m sure your friend is going to show you some of these anyways, but if there’s anything you want a to view on your own, just let me know.”

Mountain perused the small collection of movies thoughtfully. “While I appreciate Robin sharing her passions with me, I am looking for something a bit removed from the contents of what she likes. Don’t be mistaken, even an amateur like myself can see the craft and skill that went into the films, but the content is sometimes too contemporary for my tastes.”

“Ah.” Waai Fu gave the man a sympathetic glance. Prison movies, or anything to do with crime, probably hit too close to home. Even she couldn’t stomach certain scenes if they resembled certain incidents she had experienced. “In that case, perhaps some wuxia films would be more up your alley.”

“Wuxia? Hmm…That is mostly fantasy, yes?”

“Or historical fiction. But nothing says wuxia has to be in such settings. There have certainly been films set in modern times that contain wuxia elements. Although such discussions are also bitterly controversial among critics.” Waai Fu said laughingly. “Not to mention the quality of such films can be…inconsistent.”

“How so?” Mountain asked.

“Well, on a surface level, props and special effects might be a bit lacking. But usually the bigger problems are deeper than that. Certain films compensate for a lack of substance with flash.”

“But all the aesthetic brilliance in the world can’t hide a dull narrative.” Mountain finished. Even a bibliophile like him knew that. Good prose can be fun to read, but it can only do so much to hide a poor story. 

“That’s more common than you might think. Even in the world of kung fu.” Waai Fu frowned. “There are plenty that use superficial tricks to mask their complete lack of…essence. Or perhaps, spirit is a better word for it. Sorry, it’s hard to voice my grievances in a way that makes sense.”

“Don’t worry.” Mountain said. “I know that type very well. There are dojos in Columbia that appeal to the exotic to attract students. But should you ever stay for long, you realize that the ‘masters’ there seldom understand more than the fundamentals, if they ever a tenuous grasp of those to begin with.”

“The type to puff their chest up, yeah?” Flint added. “That sort of idiot exists in Acahualla, too. They deflate the moment they take a hit.”

Waai Fu giggled at the two’s comments. And here she was concerned with the shame those schools would bring to the spirit of martial arts. If it did, there was apparently fierce competition all over the world.

“If that’s how you feel about such things, though…” Mountain pointed to a banner mounted on Waai Fu’s wall. Although, given that it was hung up the same way someone would hang up a towel or coat, perhaps it wasn’t a thing to be honored. Flint tugged on a corner to hold it up, revealing bright golden Yanese characters.

“# 1 in Shangshu.” Waai Fu translated. “Hah. A little bit of deception on my part to get out of a sticky situation.”

“Was there a tournament there?” Mountain asked.

“Sort of.” Before Waai Fu could elaborate further, she felt a pair of eyes staring at her with, coming from none other than Flint. 

“I didn’t realize you were that strong, Chief Waai Fu.” Flint said, her voice both apologetic and reverent.

“H-huh? Chief?” Waai Fu waved her hands around in protest. “It wasn’t like that.”

“How many tribes were competing?”

“Tribes? Oh, you probably mean schools. Um, around fifty.”

Flint’s eye opened even more. “Forget dueling me. You ought to give Gavial a shot.”

“Doctor Gavial? Um, I’ll pass. Besides, none of them fought me for this.”

“Let me take a guess, most of the schools were more interested in collecting tuition fees than bringing out their students’ potential.” Mountain said, to which Waai Fu nodded.

“I got into trouble with one of the schools there for exposing their marketing ploys. You know, claiming that their brand of kung fu has magic powers and what not. But in the end, all those schools care about is money.”

“And this banner of yours was a publicity stunt. Perhaps to get them to drop whatever case they had against you?” Mountain asked.

“Absolutely.” 

Despite everything that was just said, Flint wasn’t disappointed in the slightest. Waai Fu was clearly still strong, and it’s not as if the Tiacauh were ignorant of deception. “By my people’s standards, you’re still chief of this Shangshu place. Doesn’t matter how you got it.”

Waai Fu laughed weakly. The courts of Yan would certainly take umbrage with that, but she’ll roll with it for now. After all, by sheer technicality, she would remain “# 1 in Shangshu” until someone challenged her and won. 

“But if you’re looking for a real fight, feel free to visit Acahualla.”

“Oh, do the people there also have martial arts tournaments?”

“We have a big brawl whenever we need to decide a new Great Chief. But honestly, you can walk up to any tribe, punch the meanest looking person there, and if you win, you’ll end up chief.”

“There was this one girl, Utage, I believe, that said she gained a following while on vacation there by doing as such. I thought it was just her being a gossip, but…” Mountain said.

“Yep. Those guys still consider her their war chief.” Flint replied bluntly. “By the way, are you chief of something? You’ve got that attitude to ya, and it’s hard to believe someone strong like you would be content being a prisoner. Whatever that is. Is it like being a caged fowlbeast or something?”

“That’s about right for most prisoners, but I was different.” Mountain chuckled and crossed his arms. “If you’re so curious, brave warrior, why don’t I show you my regalia?”

---

Mountain’s old prison jumpsuit stood in stark contrast to the entirety of his room for two reasons. The first was that it’s shade of red was utterly garish compared to the muted tones of everything else. The second was that the jumpsuit, though clean and ironed, was so austere compared everything else. 

While plenty of long time residents at Rhodes Island made personal modifications, or even changed up one or two pieces of furniture, Mountain effectively overhauled his entire room according to his own personal tastes. It radiated a quiet sophistication. There were no fancy frills or trims or embellishments on anything, but the craftsmanship was still readily apparent to anyone. 

His desk, for example, rather than the being a metal shelf suspended from the wall, was a free standing piece made of varnished light wood. And the chair accompanying it was soft leather rather than hard plastic, something Flint enjoyed as she spun around in it.

“Where did you buy all this?” Waai Fu asked as she stared at the larger than average bed.

“I commissioned most of this from Mina, one of the members of Engineering. She helped me tremendously during my esc – my exit, from prison. Even when she insists on indulging my requests for free, I always endeavor to remunerate her in full.”

“A VIP customer?”

“It goes beyond that. I once helped her family following a tragic accident. Since then, she’s felt a debt of gratitude towards me, one that occasionally influences her sense of business. Nonetheless, a person ought to be paid the full worth of their labor. And it is fulfilling, purchasing all of this with my own earnings.”

“Is that so? Were you born into wealth?” Waai Fu asked. She had guessed that Anthony’s upbringing was probably richer than her own, but it was always hard to tell exactly how rich some families were.

“Yes. My family owned a construction firm. Once. So you could say that I was used to material abundance when I was younger.”

“Going to prison must’ve been one heck of a shock, then.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Mountain smirked. “But it did temper my brashness, along with teaching me a great deal. For once in my life, my successes were all my own. Including the kingdom I built for myself in there.”

“Kingdom?” Flint asked as she stopped swiveling around in Mountain’s chair. It was massive compared to her, making her look like a child sitting in their parent’s office chair. 

“Among the prisoners, there wasn’t a single one that had the guts to challenge me.” Mountain quietly boasted. “Even the warden deferred to me on occasion.”

“But the warden’s supposed to be the chief, right?” At least, that’s what Gavial had told her. “Must be a lame dude if you could lead him around.”

“I’m curious, if the Tiacauh have no prisons, how do they deal with crime?” Waai Fu asked.

“If we think someone did something wrong, we usually just punch ‘em in the face. That sorts things out.”

“So whoever’s left standing is in the right?” Mountain guessed.

“In the right?” Flint tilted her head in confusion. “If they did something wrong, that’s why they got hit in the first place. Who cares about what happens after?”

“I…see…” Waai Fu shifted her attention to the other item next to Mountain’s jumpsuit. Some metallic device with chains attached to it. “They didn’t make you wear that, did they?”

“They did. It’s a suppression device.”

“Like those bracelets Rhodes Island makes us wear?” Flint asked.

“Similar principle. But these ones aren’t nearly as ergonomic, probably by design.” Mountain said as he hefted his old shackles back into the dark corner of his closet. He was initially hoping he could get some money by selling the tech embedded inside the shackles, but when he got to Rhodes Island, he found out that they already had far superior suppression devices, thus making the ones he took from Mansfield nothing more than another trophy. 

“That’s enough reminiscing about my time behind bars.” Mountain locked his old regalia up again, and then sealed his wardrobe shut. “Why don’t we discuss more mundane matters? For example…”

Mountain gestured to his massive library collection, large enough that it spanned an entire wall. Just like his desk, the shelf was wooden and immaculately varnished, without a trace of dust. 

“I would hardly call this mundane.” Waai Fu said in awe. “This collection might rival the Doctor’s office!”

“There are still some empty spots, though.” Flint pointed to a shelf that was almost barren, aside from three books standing vertically by themselves.

“I am not so possessive of them that I won’t loan them out. Knowledge is best when shared, after all. In fact, should either of you find something of interest, I am willing to let you take them. Or, if the books in question are hard to find copies of, at least borrow.”

Waai Fu happily trotted over to the bookshelf and began perusing. At first, she had assumed most of the contents would be Columbian literature, but she was quickly proven wrong. There were books from nearly every country present. Some were translated, others weren’t. Taking out one of the latter, she found sticky notes attached to many of the pages with annotations. Usually to clarify a specific term within its cultural context. 

The majority of the novels fit the scholarly image that Mountain exuded. Stories by acclaimed authors, or pieces of cultural and historical significance. Along with nonfictional works and philosophical essays. But there were always a few that stuck out like a sore thumb, just like his prison jumpsuit compared to all the formal attire he kept.

“Is this a pulp novel?” Waai Fu flipped through the musty old pages. It might’ve been younger than some of the others in Mountain’s collection, but the cheapness of the paper clearly didn’t help preserve it well.

“Surprised?” Mountain asked rhetorically. “A true scholar is willing to examine any work, not matter where it comes from. For the sake of appreciating the craft. Even the best authors started somewhere.”

“Oh? Is there some sort of hidden gem in here?” Waai Fu asked as she skimmed through the anthology. The titles were on par with most short fiction stories. But the covers included were all on the daring side. Provocative, but in a way that just made it seem so juvenile. Macho men, scantily clad women, monsters that were more at home in a cartoon.

“There are one or two good stories in there. And maybe twice as many good ideas.” Mountain admitted. “Make no mistake, I’m under no illusion that these stories were not made as cheaply and as quickly as possible. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t things that can be salvaged from them.”

Waai Fu could tell which stories received the most attention. The ones that actually had annotations and bookmarks. Which were scarce compared to some of the others in his collection.

“A varied diet of literature is important. Reading from within the same genre, or even within the same culture, can make any story stale, no matter how well written. Reading works from other places, with their own cultural lineages and conventions, can be an inspiring thing.”

“I get that.” Flint said, having followed the mood of Mountain’s voice rather than his words. “Back in the rainforest, even I got tired of fighting the same people over and over again. Here, though? No shortage of new folks to challenge.”

“Hmm…What should I recommend for you?” Anthony muttered apologetically. While Kemar had improved her speaking skills drastically since he had first seen her flitting about the ship, he guessed the same couldn’t be said for her reading skills. “I believe Rhodes Island has an audio library, in case you want someone to read the book to you.”

“Nah. It’s all good.” The Liberi stared at a collection of books at the very top of a shelf. She pushed up onto her tiptoes, her fingers still two whole shelves away. Then she started jumping, trying to grab the books she saw on her way down.

“Hold on, you’re going to knock something over.” Waai Fu put a hand on Flint’s shoulder to get her to stop. The Liberi pointed vaguely at a book, which Waai Fu pulled out. “A travel guide?”

Flint nodded as she began flicking through her newly acquired literature. Or rather, the pictures contained inside, as the words completely flew over her head. “Chief Blaze told me that if I wanted to travel the world, I should learn more about it first. Do you mind if I take this with me?”

“Are you that enraptured by it?” Mountain asked.

“I already saw what I wanted. But I know some people back home that would love this.” Those noisy little runts that came from underground ate up surface world travel guides like nothing else. 

“Then go right ahead. That series is easy enough to replace. There’s usually a full set in every messenger outpost anyways.”

“Cool.” Flint said as she tucked the book into her belt. “By the way, what’s with that weird board by the window?”

Mountain’s face darkened as he stared at what resembled the scribbling of a conspiracy theorist. He thought he had hidden it, but the poster he had used to cover it up was now on the floor. Did Flint’s leaping around seriously generate enough wind to tear it down?

“Oh dear.” Waai Fu gasped. “We were probably not meant to see that. Um, if you want, we could turn around while you hide it again.”

Mountain let out a long sigh as he considered what to do. “It’s already done. And besides, it’s not anything I’m ashamed of. It’s just not a particularly joyous topic.”

Waai Fu looked at the board, using her experience to decipher what was going on. HydeBro. Rhine Labs. Columbian corporations? There was a string connecting the two of them. And then the photos of some businessmen, clearly taken out of newspaper clippings. 

“I can assure you, I have no involvement in organized crime.” Mountain suddenly blurted out.

Waai Fu ignored him as she kept looking. There was a single photo that was the centerpiece of this display. A group of Felines, many of whom resembled Anthony. 

“My family was in the middle of a struggle with our business rivals. As you can imagine, we lost.”

“You lost? How?” Flint asked in disbelief.

“Columbian businesses seldom fight with fists. We prefer law and commerce instead. As you can see from HydeBro’s connections, they had far more agents in both sectors at their disposal.”

“So…was your family?” Waai Fu began cautiously. Mountain let out a heavy sigh.

“The last I heard was that they’re still in prison. But I’m not sure which one. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

“I see.” Waai Fu frowned. While Lee’s Detective Agency tried to stay on the LGD’s good side, or at least stay off from their bad side, she got the feeling they couldn’t do much here. Their backyard was Lungmen. A place like Columbia was too foreign for them to be of any help. “Have you made any preparations for the day you find them?”

Mountain nodded grimly. “I already have my resignation forms signed in advance. No need to implicate Rhodes Island in what I’ll need to do when that day comes. I certainly hope you don’t judge me too harshly.”

Waai Fu shook her head. “Far from it. Breaking unjust laws is the duty of heroes, after all.”

“I wouldn’t call what I intend to do heroic.”

“But still, I understand where you’re coming from.” Waai Fu let out a pained sigh. “My own father’s missing as well.”

This cooled Mountain’s fury. “You have my condolences.”

Waai Fu shook her head. “That stupid man only cares about his kung fu. Even more than his own family.” She spat out. “One of these days, I’ll surpass him. Show him the right way to go about it.”

“So that’s why you’ve been training?” Flint suddenly chimed in. “So you can hit him super hard when you find him?”

“I…Ehehe.” Waai Fu laughed heartily, much to Flint’s confusion. Her father was the one that taught her in the first place, but she wanted to refute his obsession, just like a movie. But she still had to wonder, was a small, immature part of her really motivated by something so petty? Perhaps it was.

Then Flint turned to Mountain. “And you’re gonna knock out everyone that ruined your family’s business, yeah?”

“More than that.” Mountain cracked his knuckles. “Since we’re on this topic, are you too searching for some missing parental figures?”

Flint shook her head. “Think my parents are still somewhere in Acahualla. Maybe. Don’t matter much to me.”

“On bad terms?” Waai Fu asked.

“Nah. It’s not uncommon for people to go on hunts or trips that take ages. Or get bedridden because they tried to fight someone way stronger. Or get sick. Usually other people in the tribe just go, ‘hey, that person’s kid is alone,’ and take care of them until the parents can again.”

“I see.” Mountain said. “I have read that tribal societies often approach childcare from a more communal perspective, compared to today’s modern world.”

“It takes a village to raise a child, right?” Waai Fu added, remembering something she had once read from her university. Even in Lungmen, traces of that lingered if all the aunties and uncles that helped her out when she was younger was anything to go by. And everything Lee did for her.

Anthony stared at the family photo again. It was a publicity shot, taken when his father took his entire family out to a new construction site. It was one of the few he could find, his old home was probably bought up and bulldozed by now. And who knows what happened to every memory it contained. As he covered up the board again, a photo on the corner, held up by a thin strip of old tape, fell off. He leaned down to pick it up.

On it was him, Kafka, Robin, Domma, Pinecone, and Silence. Taken in a hideout at Kafka’s insistence just before they temporarily went their separate ways. He couldn’t help but smile as he took the photo and put it onto his desk. Maybe it deserved better than to linger in the corner next to Mansfield Prison. He’ll find a frame for it later.

---

The two Felines coughed as the door to Flint’s room opened and a wave of humid air billowed out. As if Flint had somehow managed to transport a piece of the jungle into her private domicile. As they stepped inside, they could see the source of it all. Part of Kemar’s room was completely overrun by flowering plants. Her windowsill, foggy with condensate. Converted into a flowerbed. A little corner of the floor? Covered in pots. Her walls? Stakes had been propped up so flowering vines could creep up them.

“Was the greenhouse too far away?” Mountain asked in exasperation. In the back of his mind, he wondered if all of this was to code.

“Perfumer gave me a little plot to take care of. But there were so many more pretty flowers I wanted to grow that I just asked her if it was okay to take a few things back to my room.” Flint answered plainly. 

“This is what you call a few?” Waai Fu asked in a worried tone. Uncle Lee struggled to take care of a few office plants, and that’s with Hung’s help. If they had to deal with all this, half of the plants would be withered within days. 

“I built it up over time. Rhodes Island gives me money, and I have nothing else to spend it on.”

“Really?” Mountain asked.

“They give me food for free. The healers patch me up for free. I get to sleep here for free. They train me for free.” Flint listed out.

“Doesn’t room and board get deducted from our salaries?” Waai Fu whispered to Mountain.

“Yes. But I don’t think she knows what that means.” Mountain walked over to the impressive, and precarious, grow light fixture suspended above the vegetated corner. The area was dyed magenta, and just stepping into the light warmed Mountain’s skin. 

“Cool, right?” Flint said as she stood up on her tiptoes to tap one of the lights. The fixture swung, and the Felines winced, bracing for something to fall down. “Zumama installed all this for me.”

“I-is Engineering alright with the electricity usage?” Waai Fu asked.

“Gavial said she would handle it, so I don’t really care.” Flint shrugged.

Mountain squinted as he saw a Rhine Labs logo on one of the fixtures. Then bared his teeth as he saw the Ecological Section label. He took a deep breath. No sense in lashing out against an inanimate object that’s just fulfilling its purpose. 

There were other lights that interested him. They burned brighter than the Rhine Labs ones. And their frames were made of lightweight plastic instead, somehow capable of withstanding all the heat.

“Those I won in a drunken brawl.” Flint bragged. “Some Durin engineer really thought his stupid machine could take me. Heh. Serves him right.”

“D-did you just say Durin?” Mountain swiveled his head back to look at Flint. The Liberi was casually sitting on the edge of her desk.

“Yep. We got a bunch of them in Acahualla now for some reason. They’re decent folks. A bit on the weak side, but they’ve got good booze and fun toys.”

“Fun toys…” Mountain muttered. In Columbia, Durin tech was worth a fortune. Even a simple grow light fixture like Flint’s might have the same worth as a small company. And here she was, acting as if acquiring it was no big deal. 

“They’ve been building all sorts of weird machines. Some of our people love it. Others couldn’t care less.”

“So where do you stand on the issue?” Waai Fu asked. Flint punched the air a few times.

“I got my fists. That’s good enough for me. Plus…” Flint leaned over and pulled out a desk drawer. She took out several flat shards of rock, honed to an edge. “…there are still some things those little runts can’t figure out. So it’s not like they’re better than us.”

“A stone knife?” Waai Fu asked as Flint passed around her crafts proudly. The Feline woman lightly tapped the edge a few times. It was much sharper than she had anticipated.

“Everyone in my tribe knows how to make them. These days, I just do it to kill time. The people here prefer using metal, like Zumama and her tribe.”

“Interesting.” Mountain took a knife as well, appraising it. “Outside of archaeology circles, knapping is a lost art to modern peoples. To think there are still entire tribes that not only retain but also utilize the techniques.”

“We use what we can get our hands on. Even if we have machines, we’ll probably keep making these. If only to one-up those runts.” Flint said as she rotated a finished blade in her hand, playing with the lights’ reflections.

“With how advance Durin civilization is, are they truly that interested in learning how to make stone tools?” Mountain asked skeptically. New innovations rendered old techniques obsolete, until the old ways become nothing more than a novelty. And even then the novelty may eventually be forgotten over time. That was story of any civilization. 

“Some of them, carefree little fellas. You’d be shocked how many were amazed when they first came out. They were all, ‘you can do that?’” Flint said in a mocking voice. “Can you believe it? They’re around stone their entire lives and can’t even remember how to make stuff by hand.”

“I imagine it’s much harder than just smashing two stones together.” Waai Fu said.

“Absolutely.” Mountain said. “Only certain types of rock can be used. The percussive strikes have to be done at specific angles, with specific amounts of force, in a specific order, in order to get the desired shape to break off. At least, that’s what I’ve read.”

“You make it sound super complicated. It’s all about practice.” Flint griped as she pulled out two stones. A large dark stone and a smaller round stone. Waai Fu and Mountain watched intently as Flint struck the dark stone. Sometimes, doing nothing more than glancing the edge. Other times, she brought the round stone down on a fracture point, breaking off a large stone flake, letting it drop onto her desk. “This one’s mostly done.”

“Amazing.” Waai Fu muttered as she watched Flint effortlessly crack the stone down into a knife shape. The Liberi seldom paused, only doing so to briefly turn the stone around. It reminded Waai Fu of the times she watched some of the older residents of Lungmen still practicing their traditional crafts while intermittently lamenting about how interest was dying out. Some could adapt, pivoting their pitch towards selling hand-crafted specialty goods. But others were adamant about selling their crafts as they always did to an ever dwindling consumer base. 

The process looked meditative, like woodcarving. And about as messy, considering how many stone flakes were on Flint’s floor now. But Waai Fu was still intrigued. “Would you mind teaching me the basics if you have free time?”

“Sure. After we spar.” Flint said.

“Is that your usual form of compensation?” Mountain asked.

Flint nodded as she put away her stones. The shards she just made, she leaves alone. “I gave one of these to Chief Blaze. Then another to Beehunter. And then two to Flamebringer. One as an apology for messing with his tiny tree.”

“Ah yes. The bonsai incident.” Mountain said. It was one of his first exposures to the absurdity of Rhodes Island. “I figured you and him would be peas in a pod. You both derive a certain…enjoyment from conflict.”

“Why wouldn’t I? A Tiacauh doesn’t back down from a challenge. Fighting’s just a part of life for us.”

“Of course.” Mountain glanced over at another part of Flint’s room, where she probably trained. An old sandbag hung from the roof. The thing had clearly seen better days given all the duct tape wrapped around it. “Where did you get that?”

“From the training grounds here. The instructors said it was too beat up to keep, and they were about to throw it out for some reason.”

“I can see the reason quite clearly.” Waai Fu pinched a piece of fabric that was dangling off the bag, revealing the filling inside. For whatever reason, an earthy scent wafted out of the bag. Not the usual scent she would associated with a ripped sandbag. It was richer, like compost. “Wait, this filling…”

“Yeah. Sometimes it leaks, so I stuff it with what I’ve got around.” Flint said nonchalantly. Taking a small sample, Waai Fu took out a pinch of black soil. Mountain lightly punched the bag. He became suddenly alarmed as a muffled jingle like that of broken porcelain answered him. Did Flint seriously dump her knapping waste into the sandbag?

“Well, certain monks do punch logs to strengthen their knuckles.” Waai Fu weakly offered.

“Logs don’t have the capacity to cut you.”

The two Felines looked at each other.

“Why don’t we get you a new bag?” Mountain offered, to which Waai Fu nodded.

“I wouldn’t refuse. Don’t see why I need it though.”

“Do the Tiacauh have their own sparring equipment?”

“Each other.” Flint answered in a deadpan voice. “Or whatever mean-looking beast happens to be wandering nearby. Some people punch trees, like those monks you mentioned.”

“And your boxing gloves.” Mountain started as he looked at the pair of gloves resting near the sandbag. They weren’t as worn down as the sandbag thankfully, but they had definitely seen their fair share of fighting. “Were they provided by Rhodes Island as well?”

“Nope. I bought them from Inam.”

“A friend of yours?” Waai Fu asked.

Flint nodded. “Gavial made her Great Chief. Then she went and became a Lord Ameer, too. Always cared more for trading than fighting, though. She’s a weird one, but super laid back and nice.”

“I see. So her legitimacy is backed by Doctor Gavial’s strength.” Anthony muttered to himself. “With the good doctor here, I’m surprised Inam can maintain authority without the risk of usurpers.”

“U-what now?” Flint stared at Mountain. 

“Surely someone would challenge this Inam for her position. Unless the Tiacauh’s standards for martial prowess is magnitudes higher than ours.”

“Why would they? Then they’d have to do all the work of dealing with the people in the cities.” Flint answered. There were plenty that wanted to be Great Chief, sure, because no one expected them to actually do anything. But no one wanted to be Lord Ameer, because that would entail actual responsibility. “Plus, she’s our best trader with the outside world.”

“But if someone did challenge her for the position, what would happen?” Waai Fu asked. 

“They’d probably compete over it.”

“Like a martial arts duel?”

Flint shrugged. “Who knows these days? Last time I went back, they were fighting in giant machines. And then when the Durins came, there was a big contest over what booze was the best. And another tribe has been trying to make instruments after this one band visited us.”

“So the struggle for dominance is determined completely and utterly by spontaneous whimsy?” Mountain asked, dumbfounded. 

“I guess. We do what we feel like doing.” Flint replied. The large Feline was silent for a moment, until a mirthful laugh bubbled up from his belly. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s nothing.” Mountain said as he shook his head. Even Columbia, supposed land of liberty, was bound by rules and traditions. He was well acquainted with such standards since his birth, and especially during his imprisonment. It made the more violent aspects of himself irreconcilable with the sophisticated air he cultivated, and at times saw as a mask. 

Were Flint in his shoes, would she hold even a speck of self-loathing for his savagery? Would the Tiacauh even understand such things? Would they even care? 

“While I’m sure material conditions in Acahualla are harsh compared to other societies, that sort of shameless and free impulse is…inspiring in a way.”

“Uncle Lee once said that the most enlightened monks are almost indistinguishable from oblivious fools.” Waai Fu commented. She still didn’t know if Lee considered himself among their ranks or not. 

“Once my affairs are settled, and should I ever tire of the civilized world, I may just throw my fists around Acahualla sometime.” Mountain said with a daring grin.

“Hey now, don’t turn out like my old man.” Waai Fu jested. “You’ve got people waiting for you here.”

“They can come along. Always enough space for everyone. Plus, it’s not like there aren’t places to visit. Check this out.” Flint offered as she grabbed a postcard on her desk. She brushed off the rock flakes and handed it to the two Felines. On it was a photograph depicting some sort of water park, built around a waterfall.

“What is that?” Mountain asked bluntly. He had been shocked many times today, yet somehow, there was always one more thing that disrupted his composure.

“The Aquapit 2.0.” Flint answered. “Some Durins floated the idea, then a bunch of Tiacauh got hyped as well. Long story short, the Great Aquapit Tribe formed and this was the result.”

The two Felines were speechless. Sargon somehow didn’t notice this ?  

“I might as well float the idea. Maybe when the semester’s over.” Waai Fu mumbled to herself. 

“The world is truly a wondrous place.” Mountain said to himself. If only his parents could see something like this. All the more reason to make sure the people he knew now could have an opportunity to.

---

Chapter Text

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Robin twiddled her thumbs, staring at her reflection in the linoleum tiles of the meeting room.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

She glanced up at the clock. Fifteen minutes until she was supposed to be here. She had come in five minutes prior, she always tried to be punctual. Unfortunately, another person thought the same. She shifted her gaze over to the Ursus man sitting a little ways away, idly looking at his phone. When he turned her way, she went back to looking at the floor again.

“Ahem.” A cough from Jaye caused Robin to perk up. She turned her head to face him again, only to see him staring at the wall opposite them. He stretched his arms over his head, yawning as he did so. “Sorry. Just clearing my throat.”

“No problem.” Robin whispered back. The two resumed their awkward silence. Another three minutes of the clock’s incessant ticking and tocking was finally disrupted as a young Cautus girl entered the room, humming happily.

“Oh! You two are already here.” Amiya remarked as she set down her clipboard on a nearby desk. “I should’ve expected as much.” Her smile turned into a frown as she got a closer look at the two’s faces. Their eyes were as baggy as ever.

“Delivery contracts took longer than expected last night.” Jaye said nonchalantly.

“Um, I was watching this movie series.” Robin admitted bashfully. “I thought I would save the sequels for later, but then I got so engrossed I forgot the time.”

Amiya breathed a sigh of relief at Robin’s comment. As for Jaye, that was the answer she expected from both of them. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Not really.” Jaye said as he stood up. He pointed to the cart of food and snacks Amiya had been pulling behind her. “Do you need help setting all that up?”

“H-huh?” Amiya shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

Robin stood up as well. “If you do it by yourself, you won’t finish in time.”

“Well, there are always a few people that are late, so it isn’t that big a deal – Hey!”

“Where do I put this?” Jaye asked as he hefted a dispenser filled with coffee in one hand, and a bunch of cups in the other.

Amiya just sighed, resigning herself to accepting their help. In record time, the refreshments were set up. She even had three extra minutes this time, rather than scrambling to get everything ready two minutes after the deadline.

“Job’s done.” Robin said. Her voice was slightly cheerful, having accomplished something useful for the first time in half an hour, but she still hasn’t addressed the biggest problem in her immediate future.

“Yo, boss.” Jaye suddenly said in a serious, and perhaps frantic by his standards, tone. “Mind if we leave a little early? We’ll sign off like we’re supposed to.”

“Certainly.” Amiya said. She chose to stay quiet as the man quickly scrawled his signature onto the sign up sheet and then passed it to Robin, who then did the same.

“Do you want to take anything for the road?” Jaye asked as he snatched a donut. Robin stared at the treats for a brief moment, before opting for a cup of coffee.

While Amiya might not question things, Robin did. What could possibly be so concerning that Jaye had to go as soon as possible? Did he leave something on? If so, would she have to be emotional support when it got damaged? She certainly didn’t sign up for that today. Whatever the case, she followed him as he briskly walked down the halls and snacked, a practice she was very familiar with.

---

Jaye let out a sigh of relief as he checked the charger cord for his scooter again. The machine was propped against the wall, right next to his doorway. He was so tired last night that he forgot if it had been plugged it in or not. His job in the evening would be harder if it wasn’t.

“Um. What do you use that for?” Robin asked. She didn’t see many tracks going in or out of the room. And the wheels looked pristine as well. An indoor scooter perhaps?

“Deliveries.” Jaye answered. “It’s a big ship. And there are plenty of people that either can’t or don’t want to do the legwork for small packages.”

There was a sidecar, although the seat had been removed. Probably to carry more things. But that did beg the question. Running may have been forbidden in the halls despite everyone’s constant violation of that policy, but the usage of vehicles of any kind, motorized or not, was absolutely over the line.

“How do you use this thing without getting caught?” Robin asked.

“I go down to the boiler decks.” Jaye pointed to the floor beneath him. “No one bothers walking down there.”

“But why?” Robin asked. Was the money that good that he’d risk slamming into a metal wall? The corridors here mostly made sense. But every once in a while there would be some layout or other that twisted and turned in the most baffling manner possible.

“It’s not any worse than weaving through Lungmen traffic.” Jaye shrugged. “Plus, I gotta get whatever money I can if I want to buy a house.”

“A house?”

“Yep. It’s real expensive in Lungmen.” Jaye pulled up the listings of a few apartments on his phone. As he showed it to Robin, she gulped. Rental rates like that would be in line with the property tax for nice suburban houses where she’s from, and that’s without thinking about the mortgage. And the pictures she saw were of studio apartments. “You don’t want to know how much a house costs.”

“Do you really think you’ll ever be able to afford one?” Robin asked cautiously. She didn’t want to shoot down his dreams, but there were plenty in Columbia that made their life goal home ownership as well, only to realize how bleak their prospects were after some quick math.

“It’d go faster if Uncle Tung left me all his stuff.” Jaye snarked. “But I’m not shooting for one of the fancy neighborhoods. I’ll settle for a nice shack somewhere near the commerce streets, even if I have to fix it up myself.”

“That’ll still be expensive in the long run.” As she moved from place to place, there were always a few properties sold for dirt cheap. The caveat was that the residents would have to spend their own money for basic utilities and furnishings. Not to mention the upkeep of a crumbling home could quickly add up.

“It is what it is. Dunno when I’ll get to it, but I’m not in a hurry.” Jaye shrugged. “How about you? What’s got you working so hard?”

Robin looked down and twiddled her thumbs again. “My pops, he’s really sick. Um, I’m working here to pay for his treatments.”

“Ah.” Jaye’s stoic countenance softened slightly.

“I’m glad I managed to find this place. Back in Columbia, all his medical bills over the years might’ve been enough to buy a home.”

“So I’ve heard. Well, it’s good that Rhodes Island’s rates are so low. And so accessible.”

“Oh?”

“If you’re the average upper or middle class Lungmenite, a hospital is always within walking distance. Now, if you’re near the slums or poor, you’re better off finding the nearest back alley doctor. Not because they’re cheaper, but because they might be the only place close enough to help you out.”

Robin nodded. She’s certainly seen her own share of unsavory business. And she knew enough to at least survive in the underworld. Not thrive by any stretch, and she hoped she would never have to. But the blasé way Jaye talked about things, he was probably much more familiar than her.

“I know that look.” He said in a tired voice. Robin stammered, taking a step back, reading Jaye’s every move. The corners of his lips fell a little, but it felt like the deepest scowl she had ever seen. “I’m not part of a gang.”

The man moved to something covered by an old and stained white cloth. Robin winced, only to see a packed up food stall.

“I’m a street cook. The Lungmen docks are a mess of criminal activity, which makes getting supplies tricky. Especially when I want fresh catches.”

“Um…so if you stumbled onto any gangs…” Even if he wasn’t a member, did he still have connections? Or was he some lone vigilante?

“I’d run away and call the police like a normal person.” Jaye retorted. Technically, he could also ask one of Master Lin’s subordinates for help, but that would just draw more suspicion onto him. “Well, I do have to occasionally defend myself. But only when there’s no other choice.”

“I see. That’s…pretty cool.” Like an action hero from one of her movies. Taking down an entire gang on the way to work. At least, that’s what she imagined must happen to him.

“People keep telling me that. Personally, I think it’s a pain.” More time fighting means less prep time for cooking.

Suddenly, Robin’s stomach growled lightly. The Anaty blushed, she had forgotten to eat breakfast. She should’ve gotten more than just a coffee back then.

Jaye, having noticed, asked, “By the way, have you ever had finballs before?”

Robin shook her head.

“Hmm…I can solve that.” With deft movements, the food stall was quickly set up. Robin didn’t have any time to react before she could hear simmering water.

“P-please, you don’t have to.”

“I have some leftovers from the cafeteria. And you’ll have a better time with a full stomach.” Jaye said as he took two plastic containers out of his refrigerator.

“How much do I owe you?”

Jaye considered the question as he dropped a few finballs into one pot and heated up some curry in another. “I’ll put it on your tab. Feel free to pay whenever.”

“Are you sure? If you’re only here part time, it could be months before you come back.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got a few customers that haven’t paid in years.” Jaye said nonchalantly.

“That seems like a very risky way to run a business.” Or perhaps foolish was the better word.

“Uncle Tung says they’re good for it. He’s been at this for a long time, so I’ll trust him.”

Jaye gently placed a plate stacked with skewers of white and orange spheres onto a free part of his stall. Along with a cup of yellow curry. The rich aroma that wafted to her nose made Robin’s stomach protest even more. She picked up a stick, unsure of the proper etiquette. Did street food even have etiquette?

“Some people dip it into the curry. Others eat it separately. Just go with your gut.” Jaye replied. Robin gingerly brought a skewer up to her mouth and nibbled on one of the finballs. It was slightly chewy and spongy. The taste certainly not as strong as its aroma suggested. Just a little bit meaty and salty. And so she dipped the half-finished finball into the curry provided, the sauce sticking surprisingly well.

Another bite. This one was much better, the curry providing a complex blend of sour, spicy, and mild sweetness that soaked into the finball. Robin ate her meal quietly, happily munching as Jaye cleaned and packed up the few implements he had to use.

“It’s much better fresh, but reheated isn’t bad either.” He said as he waited for Robin to finish. He didn’t have to wait long, as within a few minutes her plate was entirely empty. Robin let out a quiet burp, covering her mouth as Jaye handed her a water bottle. “Sometimes I help out the kitchen here, assuming I’m not doing something else.”

“Another double-shifter, huh? I help out Logistics every once in a while, too.”

“It’s not just that.” Jaye pointed a thumb to his wardrobe, where a tangle of lanyards was hanging off of the handle. Robin could spot the emblems of the Medical Department, Engineering, Closure’s shop, HR. Not to mention the uniforms. A lifeguard’s vest. A lab coat. Gardening overalls. Business suits. And probably all the certifications to match.

“H-how?” The Anaty was dumbfounded. While there was no shortage of work to be done here, her skills meant she could only find physical work. And Jaye didn’t seem that much older than her. So how could he possibly qualify for this many positions?

“You’d be shocked how much can be learned on the job. Just start sending out resumes for everything, even the stuff that you don’t qualify for, and see which ones bite.”

“That seems…inefficient.” Even in her security work, Robin had to tailor her applications to the clients. After all, inattentiveness from the get-go was a red flag for a bodyguard offering their services.

“Most jobs aren’t worth the effort. Do work proportional to the pay they’re offering.” Robin wondered how long his CV must be. And whether he just sent it to every job he deemed not worth it. “For all the requirements people list, I’ve found that some will take any warm body once you get to the interview stage.”

“I know that much. I’ve worked manual labor before.” Robin sighed, phantom aches coursing through her arms and back as she recalled those days. Even the physical training Rhodes Island put its operators through was nothing compared to a 6-day construction job. Her rest day back then was mostly spent laying around from sheer exhaustion. “I just wish it paid more relative to the work they ask of us.”

“That’s most jobs, honestly.”

Robin nodded. “So, if you know that working the way we do doesn’t pay well, have you ever considered trying something else?”

“What? Like the stock market?” Jaye raised an eyebrow skeptically. “If I wanted to gamble, I’d just go to a casino. I’d rather do something actually productive, something that makes people happy.”

“Not that. Um…” Robin looked down at her feet as she recalled the mysterious contract that started the chain of events that led her here. In a roundabout way, ‘Generous J’ did end up helping her in the end, but probably not the way he expected. “You know…”

“Illegal stuff?” Robin nodded as Jaye groaned. “I’d rather not. One, I’d rather not ruin other people’s lives. Two, it’s honestly more trouble than its worth.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“Lost one of my favorite knives dealing with a bunch of crooks.” Jaye spat out. From the venom in his tone, it sounded like a gang had killed his pet.

“What was it?” Robin asked. She liked knives, but more because her favorite movie heroes used them rather than any culinary reason.

“This really nice fillet knife Master Lin gave me. Was real easy to gut things with it.”

“Fish, right?”

“What else? Anyways, some idiot rookies from one group or another wanted to test out their fancy new weapons. Don’t know why they bothered me of all people.”

Jaye let out a mournful sigh. Even with Waai Fu’s help, and Officer Hoshiguma’s intervention partway through, his knife was still a lost cause. Bent beyond recovery after parrying one of the thug’s weapons. Reaching down into one of the compartments of his food stall, Jaye pulled out a leather-bound knife set containing all the essentials for a kitchen. The wide blades of a butcher’s knife and chef’s knife, several thin fillet knives, and even the jagged teeth of a bread knife. But there was one more that was thoroughly out of place.

“After that nonsense, Hoshiguma gave me this thing she seized from them as a consolation prize. Not like I can use it.” Jaye took the knife out and twisted it around. It resembled the survival knives that Rhodes Island used for wilderness training, but Robin recognized the design instantly. A flat blade, one edge serrated. A threaded handle. A cross guard.

“That’s a dead-on replica.” Robin blurted out in amazement. Jaye was confused. “Oh. Um. A really famous movie had the main character use a survival knife that looks exactly like that.”

“Ah. That explains why those gangsters had it.” Jaye said as he traced the serrated edge idly. “Do you want it?”

“Huh?” Robin stared at the glint of light reflecting off the blade. It would go well with the rest of her collection, but surely he would charge something at this rate. There was no way she’d get this on top of free food.

“I honestly should pay you to take it off my hands.” Jaye sighed as he put the thing back in its sheath. Initially, he kept it to intimidate the street gangs from trying something again. But just like every other rumor surrounding him, the knife soon morphed into a trophy he allegedly took from a high ranking boss he personally whacked. And that just scared away legit customers. “I’ve got no use for a survival knife, but someone like you probably does.”

“Are you sure?” Robin took the sheathed weapon delicately with both hands. Cradling it like a relic.

“They get dull too quickly. And they aren’t flexible. But they’re sturdy enough that you can probably use it to chop brush or, I don’t know, stab people or something. A fighter has more use for it than a chef does.” He said in a deadpan tone.

The Anaty turned the weapon around, inspecting the pommel. Just as she suspected, there was a miniature compass built into it. Whoever made this was clearly dedicated to authenticity. “I might keep this here with the rest of my collection. It’s almost too good to use in the field.”

“Collection?” Jaye asked with dread.

“Ah, I’m not like the people you must’ve fought against. Um…Why don’t I just show you?”

---

“There we go.” Robin said as she put the knife into a glass case alongside many others. This case of hers might be the only thing that wasn’t in disarray. “Sorry for how messy this place is.”

“Not like I’m any better. I’m basically living out of a warehouse here.”

“It normally isn’t this bad. My friends just got overzealous with cleaning.”

Namely Kafka. That Liberi was a curious and free-spirited one, constantly taking things out and asking Robin where to put them. Or if Robin wanted to show it off. Or explaining to Robin how to hide things she didn’t want to show Jaye. Along with the occasional reminder that she wasn’t going to try to filch anything.

Robin didn’t expect her to. She at least trusts Kafka to not steal from her friends. Domma was much more sedate. Almost spaced out, like Pinecone usually was. Perhaps the medic was just overwhelmed by Kafka’s boundless energy.

“Sounds like you have good friends.”

“Yeah.” Robin smiled gently as she glanced over at her desk. At the book she had borrowed from Anthony that she still hasn’t cracked open yet. At the spent battery Mina had left at one of their jobs that Robin had forgotten to return. She also used to have a pair of scissors Kafka lent to her, but the Liberi had repossessed it this morning. “They’re trouble. And about as noisy as Pops. But they’ve helped me so much.”

“I get that.”

“What are your friends like?” Robin asked. She had seen him hanging out with some other Lungmenites once. While he was probably in between jobs. But she didn’t stick around long enough to get a good read on them.

“Just like yours. Trouble. But also very helpful. Waai Fu’s bailed me out of more problems than I can remember at this point. And Uncle Lee and Hung are regulars. And Aak, well, he pulls through when it matters. You just have to be open minded with his solutions.”

“Lee? Kafka said she heard that he runs a…detective agency?”

Jaye shrugged. “That’s what they call themselves.”

“Have you ever done work for them?”

“I wish I could say no.” Jaye joked. Trouble always followed them, and they usually dragged him in one way or another.

As Robin laughed quietly, Jaye decided to inspect her knife collection closer. It was certainly different compared to his. His arsenal was meant for the kitchen, while hers wouldn’t be out of place in a gang hideout. There were switchblades for days, a machete, and even a butterfly knife. Most of them were still sealed up, visible through transparent plastic.

“A hobby of mine’s watching old films. And…collecting some of the merchandise from them.”

“Some of these would be illegal in certain cities.”

Robin nodded. Collecting them sometimes involved scouring less than legal marketplaces. Even mob bosses were fans of cinema, apparently. She could only ever get the cheap replicas, as people with far more wealth to throw around would make outrageous bids for any authentic prop, even those that would barely function as a weapon.

“I wonder, though. Why all the switchblades?” Jaye asked. Lungmen banned switchblades, not that it ever stopped certain gangs.

“They’re flashy compared to normal knives.” Robin explained. “The sudden extension of the blade creates a unique shock when drawn. Especially in close up shots.”

“Quite the cinephile.”

“Personally, I think I just like watching things that everyone’s already forgotten about.”

“A hobby’s a hobby.” Jaye said nonchalantly. “After a long day, I like reading.”

“Really? You should have a talk with Anthony then.”

“Nah. While I was delivering books to him, I found that most of the stuff he likes is over my head. I’m too tired from work to read anything that requires actual thinking. Going back to our previous topic, why old movies over new ones?”

“It’s not a matter of superiority.” In general, Robin couldn’t stand people that thought themselves inherently better than others. “Even I can acknowledge that newer films can do things that older films struggled with. But there are certain stories that older one have already told, well enough that there’s no need to retell.”

Robin pointed to the newest addition to her collection. “This one. Based off of a movie about a Columbian veteran returning from war, only to find himself in trouble with the law of the country he once served. The sequels are…very different in tone and theme from the first one. They’re certainly fun action flicks, but they lose some of the deeper emotional weight the first one had.”

She pointed to one of her many switchblades. “This one is based off of a film about a policeman that has to defy the law to stop a serial killer. He was better known for his hand-crossbow, but those are harder to come by.”

Another knife. “And this one from an old horror film. The scene is a bit corny by today’s standards, and people like us certainly wouldn’t be able to take it seriously. But it did make me paranoid about taking a shower for a few days.”

Her gushing stopped as she realized that Jaye had yet to say anything. Instead, the Ursus man was blankly staring at her. “Sorry, what I’m saying must not be very interesting.”

“I was listening.” Jaye answered. His tone wasn’t any different from usual, making it impossible for Robin to tell if he was being honest or not. “There isn’t much I can add to this discussion, most of my media consumption is whatever light reading I can find.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

“People tell me I’m a good listener.” He shrugged. “I find that sometimes the best thing you can do for a person is let them have their moment.”

“Something you learned on the job?”

Jaye nodded. “I’ve been to plenty of venues before that I wouldn’t go to on my own. Operas. Concerts. And so on.”

“As security?”

“No.” He said curtly. “I already told you I don’t like fighting. So I’m not going to advertise myself as such.”

“So what did you do?”

“Um…” Jaye stared at Robin intensely, causing her to gulp. Did she accidentally poke a sore spot? Or was he trying to cover something up? “Companion, I guess.”

Robin stammered as she felt her face heat up. While Jaye has certainly taken plenty of jobs, she never expected that from him.

“Wait.” Jaye narrowed his eyes a little. Unlike her face, his was the same shade as ever. “Not like that.”

“O-oh. Then…rental friend or something?”

“I guess?” Jaye was still unsure exactly what that job entailed or what the proper title for it was, only that Lady Zhu paid very well. “My point is, silence isn’t always a sign of disapproval. Some are simply happy to let other people passionately talk their ears off.”

“Even without money?”

“If they’re your friend, then yes.” Jaye glanced over at a plastic mesh box full of devices sloppily shoved underneath Robin’s desk, some of which must have been knocked out while she talked. “Speaking of your friends, were they responsible for securing your equipment?”

“Kafka was. Hold on.” Robin muttered to herself as she lifted the box and her traps up. She did a quick count, making sure all of them were still there. Kafka usually behaved herself, but there were always reports of one prank or another she did that resulted in people getting blasted off their feet by an unassuming can of soda on the floor. A can that was conveniently the same size as Robin’s gadgets. Thankfully, all of them were still there. “Do you know her?”

“As I said before, I’m just a good listener. Where did you learn how to make these?”

“I’m self-taught.” Robin replied as she took out one of her traps and fiddled with some of the moving parts. Jaye could spot a small toolbox on her desk, all packed up at the moment. And then a few sketches on loose sheets of paper. “I used to go to the library and photocopy books on mechanical stuff. And being in the city meant there was no shortage of scrap that could be bought cheaply. I’m sure any mercenary or military group would balk at them, though.”

“But they get the job done.” Jaye countered. Robin began reorganizing her assembled traps, taking them all out of the box before replacing them in a neater fashion. As she did so, Jaye’s gaze fell onto her hands.

“Mind showing me your hands? I’m curious about something.”

“Sure?” Robin said in confusion. The Anaty held out her right hand, palm up. Jaye leaned down to look closer.

“Huh. Not as many calluses as I thought.”

“Were you expecting more?” Robin withdrew her hand.

“You do have some calluses on your palm, probably from holding your knife for so long. But I figured you’d have a few more scars from learning how to make those.” Jaye held up his own hands, his fingers riddled with pale streaks. “I’ve got my fair share when Uncle Tung first taught me.”

He pointed to one streak that trailed along the side of his index finger. “Got this one when a knife got stuck in a fin bone. I was feeling rushed, so I tried to cut through it. You can guess what happened.”

Robin winced. There were plenty of people in the bodyguard business that wore scars as badges of honor, claiming they got it by leaping in front of their clients and whatnot. For her, well, her father’s state had colored her opinion on scarring, mental and physical.

“Even now, if I’m busy, I still get nicked every once in a while. Consider it a sign of your natural talent.”

“I wouldn’t call myself talented.”

“Then what? Lucky?”

Robin shook her head. “A lucky person wouldn’t be in my position right now.”

“A stable and well-paying job with tons of benefits. A home to come back to filled with friends and family. And I’m probably missing a few other things.” Jaye rattled off.

“I know. I know.” Robin let out a sigh. Her situation right now was something most people could only dream about. But she faced an insurmountable problem. One all of Rhodes Island’s medicine seemed unable to treat. She walked over to her desk, looking at a photo she kept in a plain silver frame. The metal had her fingerprint etched into it at this point.

“Your family?” Jaye asked as he looked over her shoulder.

“Mhm.” Robin stared at the beaming little Anaty, her younger self. She wondered if that little girl had any idea her life would end up like this. And what she would think. “After my pops lost his company, it was one bad thing after another. His temper got worse and worse, but he completely broke down when mom left. It was ultimately his fault…but it’s hard to tell that to someone’s who already lost as much as he had.”

Jaye stayed silent.

“Do you think,” Robin gripped the picture frame tighter, “Rhodes Island can help him?”

“Well, they can do all they can for the body. As for the rest of him…” Jaye stopped for a moment, trying to remember which of Uncle Tung’s many lectures and sermons would be helpful here. “My mentor told me once that making a man’s a lot like making a finball.”

“Huh?” Robin turned around, a concerned look on her face.

“Uh, the most important thing is to do it slow and steady. And one step at a time. You know. First you have to scale. Then gut. Then clean. Then fillet. Then debone, then –“ He stopped as Robin just stared at him blankly. “This metaphor was certainly not the best one to use. If it’s any consolation, he also said the most important thing was to not lie, cheat, and steal. So I’m not exactly sure which one takes priority.”

Robin laughed dryly, her sorrow abating ever so slightly.

“Anyways, I think what he meant was that complicated things don’t happen all at once. You gotta take it one step at a time. That goes for your father, too. Falling to rock bottom is hard, but it’s better to climb back up bit by bit. If you try to leap all the way back up, you’ll just trip and fall again.”

“He certainly has no patience these days, but he is starting to listen to me again.” The man she knew was probably long gone by this point. Even members of the Medical staff disapproved of her attachment to him, although they usually said so in a roundabout manner.

“Do you have any plans for what you want to do after?”

“Once he’s finished treatment?”

“Beyond that. He won’t be around forever. No one ever is.”

Robin opened her mouth to answer, only to realize she had nothing to say.

“I already told you I wanna buy a house. But after that, I plan to live a life where I work a decent job and then come home and cook dinner, maybe invite my friends over if I still have the energy. Then I’ll spend my days off gardening or fishing or reading or something. Rinse and repeat.”

Perhaps to some people, that life seemed utterly mundane and boring. But for Jaye, that might as well be the ideal life for him. For one, it would mean he no longer had to worry about people thinking he’s some crime boss. Or at least, the rumors would shift to him retiring from the game.

“I…well…” Robin pushed her index fingers together as she looked around the room. For the past few years, she had only thought about her father’s medical care. Now that that was squared away, she finally had time to do what she wanted. But her life had been diverted so heavily from where she originally was at this point.

She stared at her younger self captured in the picture again. “This is going to sound childish, but I actually like it here. I know some people dislike Rhodes Island’s…militant side. But for me, it’s…really cool.”

“Cool?” Jaye raised an eyebrow. He was here by recommendation of Officer Hoshiguma. He didn’t even realize what his duties would entail until he was whisked away to a training room. While he acclimated pretty quickly to it all, he had heard stories of new applicants catching one whiff of Rhodes Island’s operator branch and promptly ghosting. Understandably so.

“Healing people while also stopping evildoers. Saving lives however we can. It’s sounds like a movie, doesn’t it?” Robin smiled briefly before switching back to her usual frown. “Sorry, that must seem shortsighted. I’m sure the actual situation is far more complicated.”

“As long as your conscience isn’t weighed down by it all.” Jaye shrugged. “Plus, I would never call your dream childish. It might even be more feasible than mine.”

Robin perked up.

“I’ll stop people if I happen to stumble onto things, but I’m not the type to actively seek out injustice. There are people like Waai Fu and Officer Hoshiguma for that. Those two are willing to dive into the thick of things to right wrongs.”

“Do you think I’m more like them?”

“If you keep being an operator, then yes. I’m fine just being a humble finball hawker.” Jaye flashed a small grin. “But there’s nothing wrong with being a hero if that’s what you want to do. The world needs both types.”

---

“So, did ya find anything out?” Kafka buzzed around Robin, who was trying to browse Closure’s store in peace. The Anaty didn’t mind it, she had gotten used to her friend’s energy by this point. “Kafka’s sources tell me he’s way high up in a gang. The patriarch of the Lungmen docks triad among othrt things.” Kafka said in a sinister voice.

“That sounds like a silly rumor.”

“Nuh uh. The source I heard it from is legit. No way they’d lie.”

“Then they must be wrong this time.” Robin hemmed and hawed as her eyes switched between the different pots and pans. Maybe she should get a smaller one first. But then again, if she gets good enough, she could make something for her friends. So maybe she should invest in the future.

“What are we here for anyways?” Kafka took a metal ladle of the shelf and twirled it around, completely unfazed by the fact that she hasn’t even paid for it yet.

“I’ve been…wanting to get into cooking. For fun, not for survival.” She had done plenty of cooking in the past to save money, but never to really enjoy herself. After Jaye gave her a few easy recipes, she got curious. Although, she hasn’t even put in any thought as to how to get ingredients. And she didn’t want to pester him even more.

“Oh?” Kafka perked up at the mention of food. “Whatcha gonna make?”

“Mm…Not sure yet.”

“If you need ingredients, Kafka’s got them.” The Liberi said smugly. “Or rather, Kafka can get them. Fresh as fresh gets. You can pay me by making something tasty.”

“Alright.” Guess that meant she was getting the bigger ones. Having finally made up her mind, Robin put a few tools into a basket to take to the register. While there, Kafka immediately darted to the candy shelf. The Liberi would absolutely want to buy something.

“Do you want a bag for this?” The cashier asked.

“Yes, please.” Robin turned around, only to see a familiar face scanning the barcodes of her purchases. While she was surprised, he sure wasn’t. Jaye was dead-eyed as usual as he rang everything up.

“Cash or card?” Robin handed him a card. He turned to look at Kafka. “Please do not hide things in your sleeves.”

“Wah!” Kafka gulped as she turned around and whistled innocently, her arms behind her back. Jaye stared at her unflinchingly until she finally relented and tossed two bars of chocolate onto his station. He took them and scanned them with everything else, as if she was just a regular customer.

“What did I tell you?” Kafka whispered to Robin as they walked out. “Kafka ain’t messing with him. No, sir. Way too tough a customer.”

“You’re the customer here.” Said Jaye in his usual voice.

“And no sense of humor, too. You should never cross people like that.”

---

Chapter Text

“Um…” Pudding hugged her plushie tighter than usual.

“Well…” Goldenglow held onto her staff a little tighter as well.

“Maybe…” Kirara started before trailing off. The three of them stood in the hallway, leaning against a wall as the other groups passed by. Introductions had gone better than anticipated, but now they had another issue. Who was going to go first?

Sure, Pudding had sent an email the night before…but Kirara had to finish an event last minute. And Goldenglow had to clean up her salon. And Pudding spent the rest of the night in Electrical thanks to a project from Closure. Thus, none of them had worked up the courage to volunteer beforehand.

Suddenly, Kirara took out her phone and begin typing. As she pressed send, the vibrations caused Goldenglow to yelp and jump into her, delivering a static shock to the Aegir.

“Sorry…” They both mumbled.

Wanna just spin a wheel? The text said. Kirara showed off her screen, on which was a tri-colored wheel with their names. Red for Goldenglow. Yellow for Pudding. Blue for Kirara .

“That could work.” Pudding said. Goldenglow nodded as well as Kirara tapped her screen. The three of them bunched up as they watched the digital wheel spin faster and faster.

Kirara certainly hoped it wouldn’t land on her first. In terms of odds, it was a one out of three chance. Certainly not in her favor, but still a super high proc rate all things considered .

The wheel started slowing down. Past yellow. Slowly on red. Until it barely edged onto blue. Onto Kirara’s third of the pie.

“I better get an SSR from my first free pull after this.” Kirara said to her phone, much to the confusion of her two compatriots.

---

“Come on in.” Kirara said weakly. She was still a little nervous, but she steeled herself nonetheless. While Pudding walked into the room without issue, Goldenglow stayed outside.

“Is something the matter?” Kirara asked.

“Um…Are you sure I can come in?” Even from the door frame, Goldenglow could see that the room was filled with electronics. While she could walk through Engineering just fine thanks to everything being shielded, she was always cautious around recreational areas. “I wouldn’t want anything to get fried by my Arts.”

“Oh, that? No biggie.” Kirara waved her concerns off. “Made sure all my stuff’s immune. It could get struck by lightning and still work perfectly fine.”

“Really?” Pudding asked. The caster picked up a spare handheld console from Kirara’s shelf. It felt heavier than expected. Turning it this way and that, she found that the casing was different than what her coworkers in Engineering had. Beneath the colorful pattern was hard rubber, and she guessed some sort of plastic or metal underneath. The screen was thicker as well.

“Yep. That thing’s drop-safe too. Tested it by getting Utage to throw it against a wall.” Kirara boasted. Her friend had a better physique than her, in more ways than one. Pudding put the console back, next to a stack of its multicolored siblings.

Goldenglow took a deep breath, calming her Arts as she took a tentative step inside. And then another. Her staff crackled softly. She knew that thinking about it only made things worse, but it’s not like she could just will herself to stop.

“Alright. First objective complete.” Kirara joked dryly. All three of them were now standing in the entrance of her room.

“That’s a lot of chargers.” Pudding remarked as the door closed behind them. Underneath the shelf holding all of Kirara’s consoles was a pile of blocky batteries. Half of which were plugged into a power strip.

“Duh. I gotta get my gaming in somehow when I’m out in the field.” Kirara answered.

“D-do you really have the time to do that?” Goldenglow asked worriedly.

“Most of the field work is marching and waiting. Plenty of down time with nothing to do.” Kirara shrugged.

“But they confiscate your devices constantly, don’t they?” Pudding remarked. Engineering always seemed to have at least one of Kirara’s consoles in holding following a mission. And Kirara was a quasi-member anyways with how much she’s done to help out.

“Why do you think I’ve got so many? Even rigged up a peer-to-peer cloud between them all.” Kirara snickered quietly. “Let’s see them try to screw up my runs now.”

“A cloud?” Goldenglow asked. Caladon was hardly an old fashion city, but coming to Rhodes Island was still a culture shock with so many new devices and terms being thrown around casually. Pudding decided to step in and give her a simple explanation. Kirara didn’t mind, she would probably talk Goldenglow’s ears off if she had to do it.

“Wow. So you must be really skilled then.” Goldenglow said. Kirara stammered a few times, then blushed.

“I mean, I’m just a hobbyist.” Kirara babbled as she scratched her cheek. “Stuff like what I do’s real easy if you know where to look online. And it’s not like consumer stuff is that dangerous. It can’t be if they want to sell it.”

Pudding giggled. “Closure keeps asking to have you transferred to Engineering.”

“Ugh. No thanks. I ain’t getting a job there. No way. Helping people with little favors on my own terms is the limit of what I wanna do.”

“Favors, huh?” Pudding glanced over at the setup that occupied the center of the room. At the bizarre pink chair with a backrest that curved around like the tail of a scorpion, a triple monitor array where the stinger would be. “How many computers have you built for people at this point?”

“Only cuz people kept complaining on the company net. Why doesn’t this graphics card work? Why is my sound only coming out of one ear? Why does it shut down after five minutes?” Kirara rattled off. “I get it though. It’s frustrating when you spent tons of money and time making a dream machine, only to spend twice as much of both troubleshooting.”

“And is this…yours?” Goldenglow asked. She kept a good distance from the setup, not wanting to accidentally shock any part of it. With all the tubes and wires running everywhere, it reminded her of the heavier equipment Medical had.

“Well, a company gave it to me, but I’ve customized it a whole bunch too.” Kirara said as she began pointing to various parts of it. “Water-cooled.” She pointed to the tubes coming out of a transparent case. Then to the speakers around the chair. “Surround sound.” She then patted the cushioning. “Memory foam and heated seating.”

Pudding and Goldenglow were wide-eyed with awe as Kirara continued listing out features. She even had a fully stocked minifridge within reach.

“So…uh…feel free to sit on it.” Kirara offered as she flicked a switch on the chair. Goldenglow was first, cautiously climbing into the chair. Kirara was right, the cushioning was both very soft and pleasantly warm. It might’ve been even better than her bed.

“I can see why you don’t want to leave your room so much.” Goldenglow remarked as she sank into the chair. She began dozing off, only coming to again when she saw Pudding staring at her, as if the Aegir was silently pleading that she wanted to have a turn as well. “S-sorry.”

Pudding laughed as Goldenglow reluctantly climbed out. “There’s nothing like curling up in something warm after a long day of work, is there?”

“Or just sitting in front of a fan when it gets hot.” Kirara added, to which Goldenglow nodded.

Pudding let out a content sigh as she sat in Kirara’s chair, hugging Pillow closer to herself.

“Do you take a nap in this sometimes?” Pudding asked.

“Yep. Used to even sleep in it instead of my bed. Until Akafuyu threatened to rig up an alarm to play full blast on the surround sound system.” Kirara spat out. Deep down, she knew Akafuyu was just looking out for her. But damn it all if that didn’t annoy her. “Anyways, the hardware’s sweet. But so is the software.”

Amid a skyline of tower-like appliances, Kirara found what she was looking for in a nanosecond. With a light press of a button , the internals of that machine lit up an electric blue as fans silently whirred to li fe. Pudding gasped as she was suddenly illuminated by three monitors coming to life right in front of her. In under a minute, Kirara had already logged in, showing off her three cluttered desktop screens.

“S-so fast.” Goldenglow said. Her own terminal, rarely used for anything more than tracking schedules for her salon or searching for help with her studies, still took a good five or so minutes to boot up. She often used the time to brew some tea or do some light chores around her room. Kirara would not have time to do anything except maybe get a snack from her minifridge.

“Ain’t it? And the memory’s nothing to sneeze at either.”

“Um…” Pudding glanced at the multiple small boxes resting on a shelf. Their wires coiled together like vines as they reached down to the computer proper. And there was no telling how many more were internal.

“Eight terabytes in total. All SSD’s.” Kirara stated proudly.

“E-eight?” Pudding was once again dumbfounded. She knew Kirara was very devoted, but that seemed like a bit much. What personal uses could possibly warrant that much storage?

“Look, games are bloated these days. Also, if I can watch stuff in 4K, why shouldn’t I? The downloads speeds inside the landship are decently fast when we’re near a city.”

After securing permission, Pudding opened the file explorer, just to see how much space Kirara actually used. She was somewhat shocked, but also expected to see two of the drives near full, their red bars screaming at her. Another two were at least half full, while the others were still mostly empty.

“Tch. The PRTS sims the Doctor sends me eat up so much data.” Kirara complained. “Had to transfer all my games off of one drive just to make room for it all.”

This caused Kirara’s two companions to immediately turn their heads to look at her. Both of them understood PRTS as the system that the Doctor used to coordinate on the battlefield , Pudding even knew that no one outside of the highest ranking personnel had access to it. Even Closure, who would hand off most of her projects to Pudding, refused to involve her in the maintenance of that system.

“Um…for some reason, the Doctor thinks I’m a good tactician.” Kirara stammered out, flustered at the sudden attention she was getting. “Don’t know why. Gaming strategies don’t exactly translate to fighting IRL. Like, come on, if I start talking about DPS or stalls or aggro, the instructors would laugh me out of the room.”

“To me, the stuff the instructors teach us is already confusing.” Goldenglow retorted. The only military personnel she knew well were Quercus and maybe Mister Red. But neither liked talking much about such things. Thus, the terms she had to know for operator work might as well have been a different language when she first heard them.

Pudding concurred. “Every field of science has its own jargon.” Jargon was a good way to put it. As the same term could mean a dozen different things, depending on which discipline the conversation was about. “As long as everyone understands what you mean, I don’t think it would be that strange.”

“I guess so.” Kirara said dismissively. Despite her tone, she began listing off the people she knew off the top of her head that would understand her. Aosta would, and he could probably tell his two friends. He was clearly the INT spec of the three. Mizuki. Logos, assuming he would listen to her to begin with. Conviction. Flametail. And then that creepy little Caprinae girl and her creepy doll. Kirara shuddered and shook her head. Now was not the time to be spacing out and scaring herself.

“So if one drive’s filled with work materials…” Pudding started, “…are the other drives just games and movies?”

“And music. And anime. And manga scans. And novels. And videos I downloaded from city nets. And images.” Kirara added. Anything that could be digitized was stored in her many storage drives.

“I see.” Goldenglow stared at the bars on the screen. “So this E drive…is it all –“

“Yep. Absolutely. Nothing weird there at all. Haha. Just perfectly normal, safe for work entertainment.” Kirara’s words were rapidly spouted as her pointed ears took on a redder tint.

“Um…” Pudding closed the file explorer. She had suspicions, but she didn’t feel the need to confirm them. Kirara was a kind and hardworking – when she wants to be – girl. She had a right to privacy.

“Do not pry deeply into a maiden’s heart.” Kirara said as her tentacles twisted and coiled around themselves. She looked around the room, trying to find something to talk about. Her eyes fell onto her manga collection. That would be a good distraction. She made sure there wasn’t anything too salacious there. Those were kept somewhere else.

But she hesitates, her gaze lingering on the full bookshelf. Her gaming chair could draw eyes because of how flashy it was, even among people that didn’t give a single care about her hobby. But manga, though, that was a harder sell. Not eye-catching at all past the covers. Not to mention finding some that wer en’t in Higashi nese would be tricky.

“Oh, are those comics?” Goldenglow asked as she leaned over to look at the covers.

“Uh…yeah.” Kirara said as she exhaled in relief. “Are you a fan?”

“Well, I didn’t have a lot of money growing up, but my mom and dad used to cut comic strips out of their newspapers and put them into a collage for me and my siblings.” Goldenglow laughed fondly as she recalled the days when she and her siblings would huddle together and read their favorite skits. The younger of them would try to reenact the strips as best they could, stretching their entertainment value far past what their creators probably intended.

“I remember that, too.” Pudding said as she smiled. “When we would go on trips back to Sami, my parents would hand me the papers with comics in them to keep me busy while they read.”

“Comedy strips are a popular format, but there are other narrative structures. Episodic, serial. And then you can sort by genre. You’ve got slice of life, action, romance, drama.” Kirara stopped herself. “So, uh, if you’ve got any requests, I can hook you up. Or, uh, you can just browse and pick anything you can read.”

Goldenglow opted for the latter , taking a few books out and perusing the ones that were translated into Victorian. She giggled at a few of the gag mangas, making a note to copy them later to send to her family. Her younger siblings would probably get a kick out of them, even the ones they couldn’t read.

Meanwhile, Pudding was furrowing her brows as Kirara described a story she liked to Pudding . The premise was a group of people working in an office, and all the comical, dramatic, romantic, and professional going-ons that happened to them. The story seemed utterly mundane, but Kirara was very passionate about it, enough that Pudding’s curiosity was perked.

“I’m curious, what demographic would this appeal to?” Pudding asked as she skimmed through the pages.

“Not bored office drones, I imagine. But for a certain groups, it’s like a window into another world.” Kirara replied. She technically had Utage if she absolutely wanted first hand encounters with a riajuu, but there were plenty that didn’t have such a good friend. “You know…uh…normie research.”

---

Kirara and Goldenglow shivered as a gust of ice-cold air rushed out of Pudding’s now open door. As they stepped inside, Kirara exhaled sharply a few times to see if her breath would be visible or not. Even though there was nothing, she still felt goosebumps forming on her arms. Glancing at the thermostat, Goldenglow saw that it was set to the lowest temperature possible.

“Sorry, I forgot to raise it for you two. I can do it now.”

“Eh. It’s fine.” Kirara said dismissively. Getting the room this cool must take a lot of time, she’d hate to make Pudding wait for that to happen again. “I’ll get used to it.”

Pudding nodded gratefully as she continued her usual ritual. On her desk was a pet bed that took up more than half the available surface space, simple white wood with a dark mattress. She gently put her plushie square in the center of it all, adjusting it slightly until she was satisfied.

“There you go, Pillow.” Pudding hummed as she squeezed the cheeks of her plushie. “Just stay there for now.”

“You must really love Pillow, huh?” Goldenglow said. Whenever she saw the Aegir in the halls, Pudding would always be holding that plushie in her arms. Goldenglow supposed she wasn’t that much different, constantly holding the staff Quercus had given her. While they do help stabilize her Arts, there was sentimental value in it as well. Maybe Pillow had the same dual purpose?

Pudding laughed bashfully as she took a step away from her plushie’s bed. The Aegir looked odd without Pillow in her arms, that was how accustomed everyone was to seeing her with it. “Yes. Pillow is a dear friend. My mom gave it to me so I wouldn’t be as lonely.”

“Not as lonely, huh?” Kirara unconsciously took out her phone. She had gotten better at talking to people in person, the fact that she was having a conversation now is proof of that, but she still defaulted to texting as a first instinct. Once something was out of her mouth, it couldn’t be walked back except with more words. Texting at least let her see her thoughts before sending them to other people.

Goldenglow looked at the other objects next to Pillow’s bed. Several bottles of detergent were lined up, sticky notes on which were useful for what types of stains attached to them. And a sewing kit as well, with even more notes and diagrams on how to patch up common tears.

“We’ve been through a lot together.” Pudding said as memories of their many voyages came flooding back. The trek through the wilderness to get back to society. The many trips they’ve had to the northern tundras. The cramped crevices of this very landship that she’s had a hand in restoring. “I’m glad that I could meet Miss Bibeak and Miss Orchid here.”

“Huh? Them?” Kirara asked. Utage had mentioned those two before with respect to clothing, but she had tuned it all out.

Pudding nodded enthusiastically as she motioned to her collection of detergents and threads. “They were the ones that gave me so much advice on cleaning and patching up Pillow. Hehe. They’re as admirable as the doctors here in my opinion.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear that.” Goldenglow giggled. She wondered if Pudding ever told them that, or if they knew. Then again, given how most people here played down their talents, they might not think too highly of themselves regardless.

“But…” Pudding frowned a little as she looked back at Pillow, the plushie maintaining the same countenance as always, “I wonder if Pillow is getting in the way sometimes.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Kirara asked the moment Pudding stopped talking. She had heard that sort of talk before.

“Well…Whenever I eat in the cafeteria, I often chat to it. The others don’t really sit down with me, even the people from Engineering.”

“Then screw ‘em.” Kirara spat out angrily as memories of her own time in school bubbled up. Memories that made her head spin in rage. “If they’re the type to avoid you just because of that, they ain’t worth it. Hell, you need someone to eat lunch with? I’ll do it.”

“Uh…” Goldenglow began softly, unsure of what to make of Kirara’s sudden outburst. “I-if it’s any consolation, Miss Quercus once talked about you when we walked by, Pudding. She said something along the lines of you being so adorable that she didn’t want to disrupt the atmosphere.”

“H-huh?” Pudding’s face turned bright red. As did Kirara’s to a certain degree. The Feline’s comment had reminded her of what Utage texted to her when the Nue passed by Pudding in the cafeteria.

Omw w ur food. Btw, saw this super-duper cutie talking to her doll. Reminded me of you.

“Nghh.” Kirara made an unearthly sound as she cringed at her own outburst. Now that her emotions had settled down a little, the ramifications of her impulsive offer set in. Eating with Pudding would mean actually staying in the cafeteria. “Y-you don’t have to eat with me. I mean, if you want to, I’m still game but, like, don’t think you have to. I…”

“Of course.” Pudding lightly slapped her cheeks, hoping it would make them less red. “Um, it sounded like you were bottling that up.”

“I wish I could delete those feelings from myself, but humans aren’t like memory sticks.” Kirara joked bitterly. She could say she was over it all she wanted, it wouldn’t make it true. “Just a case of powering on.”

Goldenglow grunted affirmatively, she very much understood the sentiment given her own hardships. “Why don’t all three of us eat together sometime?”

“Uh, can you tell me ahead of time? And preferably someplace other than the cafeteria.” Kirara asked as she took her phone out. “I don’t like it. Too noisy.”

“Of course. If all of us are free again, I’ll text you.” The Feline smiled. While plans hadn’t been set, Kirara nonetheless looked through her calendar on her phone, figuring out which days she had free time. Operator work meant she had to wake up before noon most days anyways, so having lunch wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Breakfast would be off the table, though.

“Say, Pudding. All the pictures you have up,” Goldenglow pointed to the collage of what looked like calendar landscapes hanging to the right side of Pudding’s bed. Dark taiga forests and pure white fields of snow. Rivers nestled in between two steep cliff faces. Cabins in the snowy woods, lit up by a warm hearth. “where were they taken?”

“My family is originally from Sami.” Pudding explained as she herself stared at the pictures. She had more hanging in her tent in Engineering. Whenever she gazed at them for long, it was like being transported back to the days spent there. When she napped, she often dreamed of those northern lands. “When I was younger, we would always go back home on vacation.”

“Home, huh?” Kirara mumbled.

“It’s expensive to go back, so my parents and I have to stay in the cities most of the time for work.” Pudding said as she sat on her bed. As she did so, a pair of skis behind the bed rest lightly fell until they were propped against the side of Pudding’s bed. “But if you ever have the chance and don’t mind the weather, you should go there.”

“Any recommendations?” Goldenglow asked. Maybe when she saved up enough money, she could take her mom and all her siblings out on leave with her.

“Skiing is a popular sport. I can even teach you.” Pudding offered. “And then after you’ve had enough of the snow, you can always go into a sauna to warm up. Oh! And if you’re feeling really daring, you can go camping further north and see the midnight sun. I haven’t been that far myself, but one day I want to.”

“Midnight sun?” Kirara asked. To which Pudding enthusiastically showed off a picture displaying the position of the sun as it moved horizontally across the sky. The author credited was someone Rhodes Island was very familiar with. Magallan.

“At higher latitudes, there are days when the sun never goes below the horizon.” Pudding explained.

“Ugh. Sounds like a pain.” Kirara joked. Just then, she could vaguely recall a bit of trivia Utage had once told her. “But during the other half of the year, it’s dark all the time, right?”

“Of course. But only at extreme latitudes. At most of the resorts you can go to, the day and night cycles are disproportionate, but still present.” Pudding said.

“Heh. I ain’t got any interest in that outdoorsy stuff.” Kirara smirked. “But if I can rent out a cabin in the middle of nowhere, with, say, enough food and power to last a month or so, I’d be game.”

“Really?” Goldenglow asked. She figured Kirara wouldn’t go anywhere without cellphone reception.

“I’m immune to cabin fever. Plus, no internet means I no longer have an excuse to not clear my backlog.” The Aegir smugly replied. “By the way, how’d you get into electricity to begin with? Was it something you picked up from your parents?” She asked Pudding.

“Eheh. Well, I’ve always loved the crackling sound currents make. And the way it arcs between things is fun to watch.” Pudding admitted. She glanced over at Goldenglow’s staff, causing the Feline to squeak in surprise, the sphere attached to the head of her instrument humming with pink lightning. “Just like that.”

As Susie calmed herself down, Pudding took out a small device from a drawer. A cylinder, no bigger than a bottle, with a spherical head.

“Whenever I have to do a lot of paperwork, I like turning this on.” Pudding explained as she took out a wire mesh cube.

“What is it?” Goldenglow asked.

“A Tesla coil I built in my free time.” Pudding smiled as she connected a battery to the base of the device. A faint hum could be heard as the machine spooled up.

“And this can act as a Faraday cage.” Small blue-white arcs crackled and danced in the air as they struck the wire.

“These things are super noisy, aren’t they?” Kirara asked. “I mean, this one’s quieter than my consoles so it’s not like I can complain.”

“The bigger ones, yes.” Pudding answered. She lifted the cage off of the Tesla coil. “But this one is harmless. Look.” She held a finger near the head, a small blue line linked skin and metal as a small charge transferred to her.

“C-can I try?” Goldenglow asked. As the Feline put a finger near the metal sphere, there is initially nothing. Then, a bright white arcs forks out of her own body into the device. She drew her hand back as quickly as possible. “S-sorry! Um, I didn’t break anything did I?”

“It’s fine.” Pudding said as she disconnected the battery. It was significantly hotter than normal, but thankfully not smoking. “This was made using leftover parts from Engineering. It’ll be easy to fix if anything did break.”

“How powerful are your Arts if you can casually reverse the current like that?” Kirara asked.

Goldenglow didn’t answer the question initially, she was too busy checking all her protective equipment instead. Casting unit, check. Antistatic equipment, check. She was grounded like normal. She ran a hand through her hair, none of it was sticking up.

“The instructors say she has the potential to be really strong.” Pudding answered on the Feline’s behalf.

Goldenglow whined. “But I still have trouble controlling it.”

“One of those cases, huh? Super strong powers that are also hard to control?” Kirara muttered to herself.

“They’ve been trying, but I never had proper training.” Susie admitted. “Actually, um, are either of you good with textbooks?”

“I’m fine with them, I’d say.” Pudding smiled.

Kirara groaned under her breath. “If I have to read, then yes. I got used to teaching myself after a while anyways.”

---

“I give up.” Kirara plopped onto Goldenglow’s bed, having only gotten two paragraphs into the introduction before it all started flying over her head. This was not stuff she could just look up and get an easy answer for. Or rather, she didn’t trust any answers she got online regarding Originium Arts theory. Even here.

Pudding picked up the book in Kirara’s stead. It was a much smaller one than what she was used to. Judging by the authors listed, it might have been a Rhodes Island original. Most of the information contained in the table of contents wasn’t particularly groundbreaking, just rudimentary casting and device principles. That she was very acquainted with.

“Which chapter are you struggling with?” Pudding asked. After receiving an answer, the Aegir nodded. She quickly scanned through the chapter, using her own familiarity to identify key sections Goldenglow would need to know. The Feline at some point had gotten out a sheet of paper to frantically scribble down everything Pudding had said.

“Thank you so much.” Goldenglow beamed as she tucked her cheat sheet away. “We’re having a test soon, so I was really worried.”

“Wish I had someone like you back home.” Kirara, still on Goldenglow’s bed, commented. “Would’ve made it so much easier teaching myself.”

“It’s nothing.” Pudding protested. “An engineer like me has to work with these principles every day, so I simply have more practice than the average person.”

“I thought that caster students cover this material in their first semester, though.” Goldenglow remarked. “At least, that’s what I could recall from my local institute.”

“A school of magic, huh?” Kirara asked. “Did you used to go there?”

Goldenglow shook her head. “My family didn’t have the money for it. Besides, my Arts weren’t out of control back then. Now, though,” she sighed, “I wonder if I should’ve at least gone for a semester or two, just to understand the basics.”

“If you want, I can tutor you.” Pudding offered. “We’re both caster operators, after all. Just let me know.”

“T-thank you. But aren’t you already busy with everything Engineering has you do? I’ll be fine. I’m still in the introductory class at the moment.” Goldenglow said. “And truth be told, once I get my powers under control, I’m on the fence about whether or not I want to go any further.”

“Really?” Kirara asked. “If you spec into Arts, you might reach Instructor Pith’s level one day. Or even go past that.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I realize just how valuable my talent is. But my dad always told me to pick up other skills, too.”

“Like hairdressing?” Pudding asked. That was probably how most people knew the Feline. As Susie, the stylist, rather than Goldenglow, the caster.

The Feline nodded. “My father was one. But I do think that keeping yourself groomed is good for the mind. It establishes routine, and it’s a way to respect yourself.” She laughed nervously as she patted down a few frizzed strands of her hair. “Part of it’s probably because of my own hassles.”

“That fact that you aren’t covered in fluff constantly is an achievement.” Kirara said reassuringly.

“I used to have a bunch of lint rollers.” Goldenglow giggled. She still had a few, but she burned through them at a much slower rate these days. “Say, now that I think about it, I’ve never seen either of you in my shop before.”

The two Aegirs stiffened up at Susie’s lighthearted accusation. They averted their eyes, trying to think up whatever excuses they could.

“Um…regular appointments are very hard for me.” Pudding began. “With all the projects Closure has me help with, I usually have a very erratic schedule. Sometimes, people in Engineering do it for me very quickly.”

“My excuse isn’t nearly as good as hers, but here goes.” Kirara inhaled dramatically, until her lungs refused to take in any more air. “So, I heard stylists like chatting with their clients, and that’s just not good, you know? I don’t know what I’m supposed to say back but I also don’t wanna be awkward and kill the mood by being silent. Plus, I don’t know where I’m supposed to look because I don’t want to pressure them or anything by staring at what they’re doing in the mirror. Utage and Akafuyu usually do my hair for me here, and both of them just talk to themselves so I can tune out and play games instead.”

Another deep breath. Even after recovering from her stunned silence, Goldenglow waited for a moment in case Kirara had more to say. With Kirara’s continued silence, the Feline cleared her throat.

“Of course, that’s very understandable. Just know that my door’s always open.” She offered cheerfully. “Don’t worry, I can be quick, there are plenty that only have a five to ten minutes to spare. And if you don’t like chatting, I can work quietly. I have some customers that even fall asleep in the chair.”

“Ah. But what about your Arts?” Pudding asked. She hadn’t heard of any incidents, which was bizarre.

“I take the proper precautions. And for some reason, I find that it’s easier to control when I’m focusing on styling. I promise – Waah!”

As she absentmindedly took a few steps back, Goldenglow felt the back of her leg hit something. She stumbled, her arms flailing as her legs worked to keep her upright. As Kirara moved to catch the Feline, she was rewarded with a few small jolts running down her arm.

Goldenglow apologized as Kirara helped her regain balance.

“Wasn’t hurt.” Kirara brushed herself off. It wasn’t that much worse than touching a doorknob during the winter. “Are you fine?”

Goldenglow timidly nodded. Looking down at what tripped her, she saw a box of empty bottles. “I should’ve cleaned that up days ago.” She gently chided herself.

“Woah. Were you having a party somewhere?” Kirara asked as she bent down and pulled out the bottles. Beer. Wine. And all other manner of drink.

“N-no. I just help out at the bars here every once in a while.”

“Really?” Kirara asked.

Goldenglow nodded. “I used to be a waitress at a…um, pub.” Technically, it was Quercus’ shop in Caladon. But thinking about it again, even now, cast a gloomy shroud around Goldenglow.

“Huh. That’s cool.” Kirara stood up. “I used to be a part-timer at a bar myself.”

“Really?” Pudding asked incredulously. “Did you find the job hard?”

Kirara shook her head. “Customer service isn’t too bad most of the time. Put on some music. Go through the same dialogue trees over and over again. And if someone does decide to freeform, well, that’s what management is for.”

Goldenglow chuckled, having been pulled out of her melancholy by her friends. “That’s certainly different from how I’d approach it.” Her own approach was more personable, but she could see certain clients that just wanted service without any small talk. “Maybe we could work a shift together sometime, then.”

“If I need to be a leviathan-tier whale, sure.” Kirara mumbled. “Why do you work so many jobs, anyways? Money issues?”

“Not right now.” Goldenglow smiled wistfully. “But my family was poor, so my siblings and I picked up a habit of finding work where we could. Old habits die hard.” She trotted over to her nightstand and picked up a picture. “Look, here they are.”

Her two companions’ eyes widened as they saw the Glitter family in its entirety. The mom and dad were easy enough to pick out. But the other people? Not a chance. There were too many children.

“Your poor mother.” Kirara said sympathetically.

“Um, which one is you?” Pudding asked.

“This one.” Goldenglow pointed to a young Feline girl. “I’m the sixth child.”

“That’s one endgame-heavy strat right there.” Kirara joked. Their retirement would be set, sure, but actually raising everyone? Kirara’s parents often worried about her spending habits, she couldn’t imagine how bad the financial situation must’ve been for Goldenglow’s family when the kids were younger. “So how are they doing now?”

“Much better. As everyone got older, we all got jobs. So now mom doesn’t have to worry anymore.” The Feline giggled lightly. “I left in the first place because of how expensive my medicine was. But Rhodes Island is much cheaper than Victoria. So I’ve even been sending a little back every now and again. Even if they don’t really need it.”

“I’m sure they appreciate it regardless.” Pudding said. “I’m trying to save up enough to buy a villa in Sami for my parents to retire to.”

As Pudding and Goldenglow exchanged stories about their families, Kirara was ruminating. Her parents put up with a lot for her. Her poor school record. Her constantly locking herself in her room for days on end. And she knew they worried about her now that she was so far away.

Rhodes Island hadn’t gone near Higashi recently, and it took messengers a good while to send messages there. A parcel was out of the picture, given how expensive shipping was. So what could she do to pay them back for everything?

“Kirara, are you alright?” Goldenglow asked, which made the Aegir jump. “You’ve been frowning.”

“I…uh…” Kirara took a deep breath. She could trust these two, they’ve been nothing but nice. And so she confided in them what had been eating away at her.

“You’re homesick too, then.” Pudding hugged her plushie closer.

“Are you planning to go back once your condition improves?” Goldenglow asked.

“That’s what I thought at first. But now…” Life at Rhodes Island wasn’t bad. Quite the opposite. And it meant she didn’t have to worry about oripathy nearly as much. She still missed a ton of things from home. But Utage was here, as were all her new friends. So she was torn. If she stayed, she would miss Higashi. But if she went back to Higashi, she would probably miss Rhodes Island.

“When my mom came to visit, she asked if I wanted to go home with them.” Goldenglow said earnestly. “I said no, because I wanted to see what opportunities there are in the rest of the world. But that doesn’t mean I’ll never see them again. Instead, I want to come back to them with a million different stories to tell and bags full of things they’ve never seen before.”

Kirara gave Goldenglow a small grin. That sounded cool, like a hero in an RPG. Almost too cool for the shut-in named Kirara. But maybe, just maybe, she could do it.

---

Subject: Regarding a certain someone’s extra workload

To: Pith

From: Closure

CC: Dur-nar

Instructor Team,

Soooo, how’s that new “guest teacher” treating you? Real knowledgeable about Originium circuits, right? She’s not much for public speaking, so make sure the rookie casters don’t bully her, got it? Unless you want the wrath of the entire Engineering department to come down on ya. We really love Pudding, you know? I’m glad she’s broadening her horizons, getting out of her comfort zone and adding more stuff to her resume, but don’t push her too far. I want my assistant back happy, refreshed, and with newfound inspiration. Nothing more.

Closure

P.S. This email isn’t a threat, just a reminder.

P.P.S. What is a threat is this. If she comes back to Engineering with a frown, I’m sure Medical would love to hear about some of your snack suppliers.

---

“Ding dong~” Utage barged into Kirara’s room, a plastic bag filled with food in her hand. The Aegir was too engrossed in her game to turn around, but she waved nonetheless.

“Not hungry.” Kirara said dismissively.

“Come on. You gotta eat something or you’ll get a headache.” Utage teased.

“I already ate lunch.”

“A bag of chips doesn’t count as lunch, no matter how big it is.”

“It isn’t a bag of chips this time. GG-chan invited me to eat with her earlier.”

“GG-chan?” Utage was confused for a brief moment, before erupting into a big grin and hugging her friend from behind. Kirara kept playing her game like normal, completely undisturbed by Utage’s antics. “So you’re already that close, huh? What have you recommended to her?”

“Not much. She’s busy. I only gave her a few light novels, the first volume of a manga I’d think she’d like. Oh, Pudding and I figured out how to shield a console and I gave her a few casual games she can play with us and then I convinced the two of them to watch something with me over the weekend.” Kirara rattled off happily at a rapid pace. “Why are you snickering?”

“Nothing. Nothing.”

---

Chapter Text

Cuora suddenly stopped, her heels making an awful screeching sound on the metal floor in the hallways.

“What’s up? Forgot something in the meeting room?” Lee asked. She shook her head.

“I’m thirsty.” The Petram walked over to a nearby vending machine and unzipped her backpack, looking for something within its confines. She turned back to look at Lee. “And I forgot to bring money.”

“Darn. Starting with the misfortunes we’ve had can’t be a good sign.” He joked. From him having to drag Aak out of bed because he slept through his alarm, to her being late to the meeting because she forgot where it was, something was out of whack. Or maybe some misdeed of his was finally catching up to him.

The Lung looked around, trying to find someone that would be swayed by Cuora’s sob story. He managed to flag down a few people, but unfortunately got no more than spare change for all his panhandling. Cuora accepted the coin nonetheless.

“We only need a few more!” She reassured him. But how many more? She started counting on the coins in her hand, only to be interrupted by Lee.

“Go ahead and keep them.” Lee pulled out a paper bill from his own wallet, which was stuffed to bursting. “What flavor do you want?”

---

“Here we are!” Cuora shouted excitedly as she marched into her own room. Three steps in and the girl had already stepped on a baseball on the floor. Her foot rolled. And she started flailing her arms and legs in panic.

“Waah!” With a kick, the baseball was launched to the opposite wall, bouncing off and sailing high through the air.

“Careful there, little missy.” Lee caught Cuora by her collar with one hand, and then the ball with his other. The Petram didn’t wait long before she sprang out of Lee’s grasp, completely unfazed by what just happened.

Normally, Lee would take his shoes off so he didn’t dirty someone else’s room, but given how messy the floor was with used wrappers, sports equipment, and who knows what else, he opted to keep his feet firmly planted in his footwear.

A decision that would be very wise as he felt something push against his sole. He could feel something with sharp corners, not unlike a caltrop. Leaning down, he saw some sort of rectangle made of hard plastic.

“Oh, that’s where that went.” Cuora said cheerfully as Lee picked up the plastic toy. “I was wondering why we were missing a piece.”

“Well, now you can put this back where it belongs.” Lee casually tossed the piece over to Cuora. “That way, there won’t be any foot-related injuries when people come over to visit.”

“You’re not gonna make me clean up everything, are you?” Cuora’s excitement withered slightly. She had been so excited to have someone new to play with that she couldn’t sleep at all last night. And then she got distracted chasing after a wandering musbeast this morning that she completely forgot to clean her room. And then someone had to come fetch her because she forgot where the meeting spot was.

“Hmm…” Lee smirked as he put his hand to his chin and looked around. He walked to her desk, carefully moving a catcher’s glove on the floor away with his foot. Then he inspected at the weathered binders and notebooks carrying loose stacks of worksheets. Cuora watched with trepidation as Lee slowly streaked a finger across her desk and brought it up to his face. His glove was slightly grey with dust. After an agonizing few seconds of deliberation, Lee finally spoke up. “Congratulations. You passed.”

“Huh? Yay!” Cuora raised her arms in triumph. “So that means I won’t get scolded when I go out to play, right?”

“I don’t see why not.” Lee snickered. “I don’t see any mold. And it doesn’t smell. Uh, just make sure to toss away all the food wrappers, yeah? Don’t want to attract cockroaches.”

“Okay.” Cuora muttered begrudgingly as she went around and picked up the discarded snack wrappers. Lee looked concerned as she casually put them into her backpack before dumping it all into a trashcan. “There! All done.”

“Good job, little miss.” Lee gave her a thumbs up. “Keep that up and you’ll be a better cleaner than the kids.”

“Huh? Who?”

“Haha. Guess you aren’t acquainted with them? Hung? Aak? Waai Fu? Any of those names ring a bell?”

“Nuh uh.” Cuora replied candidly. Lee sighed as he took a photo of them out of his jacket. Cuora’s eye lit up as she saw Hung.

“Ah! That’s mister chef!” Lee laughed under his breath. Of course that’s what Hung would be known for here. “So he’s a janitor too?”

“Nah. But someone’s gotta keep the office clean. And it isn’t gonna be Aak.” The last time they made that punk do chores, the entire place ended up smelling like rotten egg because he forgot to open the windows, and Aak was subsequently banned from using cleaning chemicals stronger than soap. “Kids these days are responsible. Way more than my generation was when we were your age.”

“Really? Then does that mean the Doctor? And Doctor Kal’tsit?”

Lee laughed irreverently. “They must’ve been the most slovenly people to ever live. One could argue they still are. Don’t tell them I said that, though.” He winked.

“But the Doctor always has an assistant. How do I get one?”

“Well, first you gotta be important enough to not do chores. Having the burden of making all the big decisions gives you an excuse to not waste your brainpower on menial tasks.” Lee joked. He probably spent half of his time in his office napping. But that’s fine, it would leave him refreshed for when he actually had to do something. Or so he said to anyone that asked.

“Leading? Hmm…Oh! Like a team captain, right?”

“I was thinking manager or owner.”

“Right. The big boss.” Cuora continued nonchalantly. “So if I start a baseball team here, that means I can have someone clean my room for me!”

“That’s certainly a plan if I’ve ever heard one.” Lee looked around. Cuora had an entire duffel bag of wooden bats. Helmets stacked inside a box. And then probably enough balls to fill a machine. Not to menton a few gloves, bases, and chalk to round it all out. “Seems like you’re already stocking enough equipment to do just that.”

“Eheh. Most people like throwing or batting. But that’s about it.” Despite complaining, Cuora nonetheless had her usual carefree smile.

“Oh? Can’t just ask for a game?”

Cuora shook her head.

“Hmm…Where do you usually play?” Lee asked. He was curious as to how organized sports would even work on Rhodes Island.

“If we stop somewhere, I can set up my stuff outside. But if we’re moving, the deck.” Cuora answered. Lee groaned under his breath. He could already see multiple problems with that. “But I kept losing balls, and they wouldn’t let me go down to get them.”

The mere thought of the entire landship coming to a screeching halt just for the sake of one lost baseball was downright comical to Lee. “I don’t think you’d be able to find them.”

“You never know until you try. That’s what my teachers keep telling me.” That probably wasn’t their intention when giving her that piece of advice, but Lee kept that comment to himself. “But since I never had the chance, I moved into the training rooms instead.”

“I imagine the instructors weren’t too happy about that.”

“Yep!” Cuora replied cheerfully. “I hit Instructor Dobermann with a ball once and she chased me around the ship! And then she yelled at me for running in the halls, even though she did it too! That was fun. But she said I wasn’t allowed to play in the practice area anymore.”

“Little troublemaker, aren’t you?”

“And then I met with this cool skater girl while walking around and she let me play in the hallway with her.”

“Does she own that hallway?”

“I dunno. She must if she said I was allowed, right?”

Lee chuckled. Kids were the same everywhere apparently. If they didn’t have a place to goof off, they’ll either find one or make one. There seemed to be a lack of designated recreational space aboard the ship. At least for hobbies that required an entire park’s worth. It was understandable, but still a shame.

“I’m sure there’s an unused room or two somewhere here.” Lee advised. Even with how stuffed to the gills this place was, he always managed to find one place or other that was just collecting dust while wandering around.

“Is there? Do you know where?”

“Sounds like detective work, little miss. That means you gotta pay a finder’s fee.” Lee smirked as he took a business card out, handing it to Cuora out of pure rote memory. It was only after she took it that he realized how useless the gesture would be.

Cuora despaired briefly. She had been saving up to buy some new sneakers, but that might have to be put on hold if she wanted to pay Lee. Suddenly, inspiration struck. A detective liked unique things, right? At least, May did. She went over to her bag of bats and took some out. Scanning them with her eyes, she picked one out in particular.

“Um, I might not have enough money, so how about we make a trade instead?”

“Oh?” Lee played along and took the bat from her, twirling it around. “What makes this piece of wood valuable enough to warrant my time and skills?”

“Look at the autographs on it!” Lee stopped messing around with the bat and held it up against the light. Since the girl seemed to be the veritable image of a baseball fanatic, she must have some autographed souvenirs. But even if she did, he wouldn’t take anything. It just felt wrong to deprive her of memorabilia that was far more valuable to her than any of it would be to him.

“Huh?” Lee could see plenty of signatures etched onto the light wooden bat. All in the same permanent marker ink.

“Do you recognize some of them? They’re all real famous.” Cuora boasted. “Look! This one’s in the Hall of Fame!”

“Some of them are also long dead.” And the bat itself wasn’t exactly a vintage one, considering it looked identical to every other bat Cuora had in her bag. “Bit out of left field, but mind showing me your homework?”

“Huh? Okay.” Cuora obediently grabbed a worksheet from her desk, unsure why Lee suddenly wanted to look at schoolwork when there were way more exciting things to talk about.

“Heh. Thought as much.” The penmanship on all the signatures was eerily familiar. And quite sloppy at that. Sloppy in the way that children just learning how to write were. Not necessarily rushed, just not confident about what letters ought to look like.

Considering the homework in his hand was just her name and a few common words inked in large dotted lines, that made sense. And even with rigid guidance, her hand apparently liked wandering every once in a while. The same could be said for the signatures.

“Did you write all these yourself?”

Cuora nodded, not a hint of shame within her. Lee just shook his head and smirked. Did she hope that signing would make the bat perform better? Or was it just because she thought it was cool? Or good luck? Regardless of her intentions, the players still alive probably wouldn’t sue her considering how blatant the forgery was, if it could even be considered a forgery.

“It’s a nice bat, but I don’t think it’ll suffice for my fee.” Lee said as he gave the bat back to Cuora. The Petram nonchalantly tossed it back inside the duffel bag with a great cacophony as every bat was suddenly displaced. “You’re not exactly a famous player just yet, little miss. Give it a few more years, and your signature might be worth something. But not right now.”

“Aww…Oh! I know! I do have some famous stuff!”

Lee stood aside as the girl began tearing up her own room looking for something. It wasn’t underneath her bed, it wasn’t in her drawers. She didn’t keep it inside her backpack. But there were certainly a lot of things stored in all those places. A pencil case. Spare jerseys. A speed gun, which she was apparently trusted with for some reason.

“Found it!” Cuora yelled from the inside of her wardrobe. In her arms were cradled two objects. A muddy baseball with a single signature that was barely legible given how dirty the thing was. And a dented black helmet with the same signature in white ink. Ambrois “the Invicible” Edwards. A name Lee knew in passing from some of his acquaintances. He was apparently a reliable bet most of the time.

“So you did meet a famous player.” Lee said as he took the helmet from her. Turning it this way and that, the thing was beat up, with sharp dents caving in the metal and scratching the paint. “This has definitely seen better days, though. If you’ve got an authentic autograph, you ought to keep it in better shape.”

“It was like that when he gave it to me.” Cuora retorted. “He has a new helmet now, so it’s fine. He said I should hold on to this one as thanks.”

“Thanks?” Now Lee was curious. She not only received something most fans would shell out entire paychecks for, but also had a famous player in her debt? There was a story there.

“I got it when I attended his first game out of retirement, but I don’t really know why.” Cuora admitted candidly. Lee deflated instantly. “Maybe it was for always being a fan? Even after he got sick?”

“Sick?” That made him recall a very faint memory. A conversation he had eavesdropped on at a bar. Where some customers complained about losing their cash cow due to sudden illness. He didn’t think much of it then, the idea of a person’s suffering being reduced entirely to how it personally inconvenienced someone else’s vice was appalling, even to a slacker like him.

“He got the same sickness as me. You know, the one where crystals grow out of your skin.” Cuora said. Her voice was a little more somber now, but she still had a smile on her face. Even if it was smaller. “I heard that when everyone found out, he had to leave team. And the league.”

“That’s one nasty fall.” Lee grimaced. The Lung couldn’t decide what outcome was worse for the poor guy. Booed away in front of everyone, forced to make a public statement of resignation, or just quietly shuffled away with none of the fans the wiser. Given the state of the helmet in his hands, Lee could guess which one the player had to suffer. But no matter which one the player could’ve chosen, the fact that his career flatlined there and then must have been crushing.

“But he came back!” After a brief moment of melancholy, the Petram’s usual chipper attitude revived itself. “He’s not back to his old highs, but he probably had to spend time getting some rest. He’s just rusty is all.”

“And age isn’t exactly kind to athletes.” Lee added. It wasn’t kind to detectives either.

“But even then, Ambrois the Invincible will make it into the Hall of Fame, I know it. I’ll keep cheering him on until he proves all his critics wrong.”

“That’s gonna be an uphill battle, in more ways than one.” Lee muttered. He stared at the helm and ball in his hands again, before giving them back to Cuora. “After that story, I can’t possibly accept these.”

“Huh? Are they still not enough?” Cuora asked in bewilderment.

“Quite the opposite. In a few years, if all his fans are like you, its value might appreciate more than a piece of Lungemnite real estate.” Lee joked. The girl just stared at him blankly, the joke clearly flying over her head. “Anyways, I’m not in the business of appraising something priceless. He gave you those things out of gratitude. Things of that nature shouldn’t be pawned off frivolously.”

“Really? Okay.” Cuora looked around again. If Lee wasn’t interested in what were her some of her most prized possessions, what could he be interested in? She looked at her equipment again, at the black bat and backpack she carried with her into battle. She couldn’t give those away, the engineers here said she should keep them with her unless it was an absolute emergency. But maybe Lee would be fine with just a look.

“Your equipment?” Lee raised an eyebrow. “What’s so special about it?”

Cuora giggled as she raised her bat high in the air. “They’re super strong! And super tough! I gave this to Popukar once. She played with it and smashed an airlock until it was folded in half.”

“Heh. Good one.” Lee chuckled. Children and their tall tales. “I bet Engineering scolded you for that.”

Cuora nodded. “We both got grounded for a week after that. And she’s not allowed to use this bat again.”

“Just a week? It must’ve been difficult for them to get you a new combat-ready bat in such a short amount of time.”

“New bat?” Cuora tilted her head in confusion. Lee looked at the black bat with Cuora’s name on it. The Doctor had briefed him on her memory problems. Did they put that name there so she didn’t forget it? Or did they name her based solely on what she had with her? “I’ve always had this one.”

Suddenly, Cuora’s story seemed less like an exaggerated tale and more the actual truth.

“Can I hold it? Don’t worry, I promise I’m not going to be like Popukar.” Lee extended his hand and soon felt the cold touch of metal in his palm. He lightly slammed the bat against the palm of his other hand a few times. It was strange. Not at all like the aluminum or wooden bats he’d held in the past.

It felt sturdy despite being light. But at the same time, lightness wouldn’t be too useful if someone wanted a big hit. He backed up slightly from Cuora and gripped it at the very top of the handle, where the bat was just starting to get thicker. He slowly swung it around with one hand. Despite it’s lightness, he could feel the force as air was forced out of the way with a whoosh. It was almost like it defied physics, being both lightweight and heavyweight at the same time. But that was silly, unless…

He shuddered as he recalled a certain few siblings that could absolutely do something like that. But surely they weren’t involved in this, right? They couldn’t be. Baseball wasn’t popular in Yan today, let alone in the past. What purpose would they have making an implement with these exact dimensions?

“Waah. Did you hurt yourself?” Cuora asked. Lee just noticed that he was frowning. He quickly reversed course and gave Cuora a smile again.

“Nah. This thing just reminded me of something. Or someone, for that matter.” He answered as he handed the bat back to Cuora. “Is your backpack special as well?”

Cuora nodded happily as she held it out, armor plates faced towards Lee. “Don’t try to hit it, a lot of people don’t believe me and end up hurting their hand.”

“I believe you.” Lee said as he rapped his knuckles against the hexagonal plating. Just as he thought, it wouldn’t be wrong to consider it armor considering how tough it was. But as he hefted the backpack, he can’t help but notice how light it was as well. What sort of miracle material was Cuora’s equipment made out of? “So how’d you come across these things, little miss?”

“Dunno.”

Lee sighed. He expected that answer. A young child shows up on someone’s doorstep without naught but a name and unique artifacts? He would call it a trite premise fit only for schlock novels if he hadn’t been subject to that plot before for real.

“When I got sick like Ambrois, they ran me off the field too. But he didn’t have this stuff. I could just put my backpack on, and nothing they could throw could hurt me.”

“They shouldn’t have been throwing things at you to begin with.” Lee muttered through gritted teeth. “Haah. Tell you what, kiddo. Why don’t we suspend negotiations for the time being?”

“Aww.”

“Don’t give me a long face, now. I’m not good with that sort of thing. I just make a habit of not taking more than one contract from a client at a time. And that bat and backpack of yours peaked my interest. I do know someone who knows someone that might be able to figure out what they’re made of. Or even who made them.”

“Really? But I can’t pay you.”

“Don’t worry. Your payment for this little tidbit will be me not getting involved once I set up a meeting.” He did not want anything to do with those Sui siblings after that mess if he could avoid it. Whatever happened, it would be his contact’s responsibility.

---

Lee puffed up his chest proudly as he stood in front of his open doorway, the light still off so as to hide the state of his room.

“Now, I want you to bear witness to the resolve of a man of my caliber.” Lee announced grandiosely. “While I usually have those kids handle everyday chores, for once I found the time to make my own arrangements presentable, given I’m having a guest over. And I would like the record to show that not once did I have to ask for help from any of them.”

That was a technical truth. He did do all the work himself, even if he asked Hung for a vacuum cleaner. And Waai Fu for cleaning supplies because he had none with him. And Jaye and Luo Xiaohei to store some of the things that he couldn’t find a good place for. And Aak for a stimpack when he got tired of crouching down. Not hurt, just tired. But aside from those little things, the current state of his room was entirely his own endeavor.

Cuora stepped inside the room and flicked on the light.

“Wow! It’s even messier than mine!”

Lee coughed as his previous bravado crumbled to dust. He thought it looked presentable enough. It was better than his office back in Lungmen at least.

“Yes, well…it has a unique flow of qi to it. That’s why things are the way they are.” Lee joked. “All in accordance with the principles of Feng Shui.”

“Huh? Is that a game?”

“For businessmen, it might as well be.” The Lung chuckled. That was an easy enough source of money for those willing to be conmen, but someone like him had standards. “I’m not here most of the time, so think of this more like a safehouse for goods too hot to keep back in Lungmen.”

If Cuora heard him, she didn’t reply. She was too enraptured by one of the many things he stashed here. Sitting on his desk was a small golden statue depicting a sort of terrestrial beast with four legs and a shell on its back.

“It looks like me.” Cuora tugged on the straps of her backpack. Lee was relieved she at least kept it at that and didn’t try to get on all fours to mimic the statue.

“Indeed it does. Although it’s technically a tortoise.” Lee picked it up in his gloved hands, careful to not mar the immaculate golden sheen. “In Yanese culture, this little guy symbolizes toughness and longevity. It’s a popular good-luck charm.”

Cuora’s eyes followed the statue as Lee returned it to its resting place. Like a kid at a candy store. Whether that was because she found some affinity to an equally shelled being or she just liked how shiny it was, Lee couldn’t tell. “Sadly, you can’t have it. I’m keeping it for someone that owes me a favor. To be returned at a more auspicious date.”

“Fine.” Cuora pouted as she looked around the room again, eager to find something else that would catch her interest. In the meantime, Lee decided to organize some of the papers he had scattered around his desk, grumbling all the while.

“Darn it.” He clicked his tongue as he looked at one folder in particular. “Was supposed to hand this off yesterday. Let’s see…all the kids are busy. Ugh, gotta do it myself after this.”

“Oh? Did you forget to turn in some homework?” Cuora asked. “It’s okay. I do that all the time.”

“Hahaha. You caught me red-handed. This stuff basically is homework for adults.” Lee jested as he haphazardly gathered a few sheets and paperclipped them into a stack. As per the agreement Rhodes Island had with Lee’s Detective Agency, he would supply intel on what was happening in Lungmen and occasionally Yan in exchange for whatever info Rhodes Island’s massive web of contacts could dig up. “It’s also where I’m keeping the contact info for the person that might be able to help you. I’ll set up a meeting and tell you later. Don’t worry about it now.”

Cuora stood on her tiptoes to look at his many papers, even though she understood very little of them. The Petram then took out the business card Lee had given her earlier.

“You said you’re a detective right?” She asked.

Lee smiled proudly. “That’s right. We can solve anything in Lungmen. And beyond.”

“Wow! So you must stop a lot of bad guys all the time.”

“Ah ah.” Lee cut her off. “That’s police business. Please do not expect us to do that kind of work.”

“Huh?” Cuora was absolutely bewildered. If they didn’t stop bad guys, what did they do?

“Most of our work isn’t that perilous. You know, spying on spouses that people think are being unfaithful. Searching for lost pets. Making sure businesses aren’t cooking their books.”

“Blech. Who would cook a book? Paper isn’t that tasty, I’ve tried it.”

“Figure of speech, little miss. But that encompasses most of what we do. When we aren’t dragged into the trouble that usually happens in Lungmen.”

“And that’s when you stop bad guys, right?”

“No no. We lead them over to the police and make ourselves scarce. I can’t fight to save my life.” Or rather, that’s what he would like to do if he wasn’t stuck with maintaining the delicate balance of Lungmen’s social and political fabric. “We’re just a simple law abiding investigation agency, I assure you.”

“Okay.” Cuora turned her attention to other things, figuring that she had gotten all she could out of that topic. She wandered around the room again, Lee leaned against his desk, watching the Petram as she looked at everything like she was in a museum. Then again, consider the age of some of things here, it might as well be a museum.

“Be careful around those vases.” Lee warned her gently. He winced as her knee abruptly tapped the table upon which a glazed white porcelain piece sat. It wobbled around a few times, stopped only by Lee leaping to steady it before it tipped over. “It’s bad luck if you break one of them.”

“I thought that was mirrors. Do I have to be careful around pots too?” Cuora asked in horror.

“You ought to be careful around everything fragile.” Lee decided to move the vases to a more secure location closer to the ground. After all, if a light disturbance like that could tip them over, who knows what was going to happen if the landship crested over a hill or drove into a sinkhole.

“Okay!” Cuora decided to help as well, carefully lifting a vase herself. Unlike Lee, however, the Petram girl had to use both hands. “If you’re not here a lot of the time, why do you have these out? Just because they’re pretty?”

“I was intending to give them to someone here who might want them.” Lee answered as he held one in his hands. The vase was bone white with streaks of blue paint sketching out scenes of a forest. “I helped a potter a little while ago with something. He didn’t have enough money to pay me, so I ended up with these as compensation. And well, it’s not like I can pay my water bill with clay.”

“But I thought you said we shouldn’t give gifts away.”

“Did I now?” Lee snickered at the girl’s confusion. “You shouldn’t sell off a gift, that still stands. But having these things collect dust in a storage room somewhere would be a waste of that potter’s time and talents. Might as well give them to someone who can make good use of them. Know anyone that fits the bill?”

“Hmm…um…” Cuora paused as she pondered the question, leaving the rest of the burden for Lee to silently shoulder. “Ah! Maybe the Doctor could use it.”

“I’m sure the Doctor’s office is just brimming with stuff people give him.” Lee joked.

“I know. He still has the bat I gave to him. And he always keeps the balls the others take from me. Sometimes he gives them back.”

“I think there’s another reason why he has them.” Lee muttered under his breath. Probably a disciplinary measure. The kids’ stuff used to find their way to his office too. Either because they lost interest and passed it along to him, or because they had done something that warranted confiscation. Sometimes they still do.

The Lung glanced over at a crate sealed with red electric tape sitting in the corner of the room. A biohazard sticker taped to the lid – more a precaution than anything else, the actual contents weren’t that dangerous. It was just another of Aak’s side projects. One which absolutely violated one or two of Lungmen’s laws. Lee didn’t mind the boy experimenting as long as no one got hurt, but he didn’t want clients, or the LGD, to see dangerous chemicals around the office. And so off to Rhodes Island it went.

“Wonder if he’s forgotten about this by now.” Lee chuckled to himself. Aak might have been too busy talking to that Vampire friend of his that the contents of whatever was inside the container have already expired. Good thing it was stored in a place experienced with disposing of such things.

He turned around to look at Cuora, who was completely enraptured by something different. Figures, she was probably used to seeing that symbol, and was definitely told to avoid it whenever possible. So instead, her attention was fixed on a small, golden metal ball she was currently bouncing in her hands.

“Know what those things are?” Lee asked as he took one out himself and rolled it in his palm.

Cuora shook her head. “Do you use these for pool? They kinda sound like pool balls when they get hit.”

“Ha. I suppose they could substitute as billiard balls if none are available. But you probably wouldn’t be able to guess the right answer anyways. These things aren’t meant for sport.”

“Huh?” Cuora tilted her head in confusion. What use was a ball if it wasn’t for a game?

Lee held two in the palm of his hand and used his fingers to deftly move them in a circular pattern, each ball clicking as he did so, even though they never made contact with each other.

“They’re called Baoding balls.” Lee took out another pair and twirled them around in his other hand. Counterclockwise in his left, clockwise in his right. Cuora was mesmerized as she watched the metallic spheres dance and clack in the Lung’s palms. “Technically, they’re meant for medicinal purpose, but most people just use them to kill time.”

Lee then linked his two hands together and moved all four balls in a circle. After a little more showing off, he stopped, much to Cuora’s disappointment.

“Can I try?” Cuora held out her palm.

“Don’t see why not.” Lee took out a smaller pair of Baoding balls. “Don’t go for the fancy stuff first. Get used to how they feel. Then try to slowly move them while they’re in contact – Ah.”

With a flick of Cuora’s thumb, one of the balls slipped out of her hand and fell to the ground with a sharp thud. It bounced a few times before Lee bent over and picked it up. It wasn’t damaged, so Lee gave it back to Cuora.

“Don’t be discouraged. It’s natural to mess up when you’re starting out. Just like baseball.” Lee said. “You’ll get better with more practice.”

“Mhm.” Cuora focused as Lee showed her some rudimentary techniques. After performing some of them much more slowly, she felt decent enough at it to speed up just a tad. “Eheh. When you come here next time, I’ll be good enough that you can show me those flashy techniques. Promise!”

“Quite the boast, little lady, but I’ll hold you to it. Don’t disappoint me now.” Lee grinned as Cuora dropped the balls straight into her backpack. He intended to give her a pouch to put them in so she doesn’t lose them, but that opportunity had already passed. “Just make sure to keep up your batting practice. I would hate to see your batting average go down just because you were busy with those.”

“Huh? Batting average? Hmm…Oh! That’s that number that gets put on the cards, right?”

“Guess you’re not into that side of the sport?”

“I don’t really get it. Is it like height? Just because the player has a bigger number doesn’t mean they’re better. I dunno why people like it so much. It’s math, and math is boring!”

“And just like that, every statistician just took a blow to their core.” Lee had seen too many people take out loans to bet on whatever teams they thought were a shoe-in, only to lose it all on game day. But there was certainly enjoyment to be had by some in crunching the numbers. It’s not like he didn’t understand that, he just preferred his predictions to have zero financial consequences.

“You definitely won’t like this then.” Lee pulled out a thick packet of paper. Something one of his clients had left behind. While Cuora was initially excited thanks to the baseball logo on the cover page, her excitement quickly turned to dismay as she flipped over to the first page of a spreadsheet. And more numbers than any of her math homework ever had.

“I have a headache.” Cuora said dramatically as she handed the thing back to Lee.

“Not interested in oracle bones for sports gamblers? Good. Getting addicted to that sort of thrill is dangerous.”

“Really?” Cuora liked the thrill of her team winning. Of getting a homerun. Was it really that dangerous?

“Well, think about it this way. How do you usually feel when your team loses?”

“Bad.” Cuora answered plainly. “But I still got to play, so it’s fine. And there’s always next time.”

“That’s a good attitude to have. Enjoying the game for the sake of the game’s a healthy way to look at things. And nothing wrong with self-improvement either. The danger comes when you want everything to always go your way. In a game of chance, things won’t go your way sometimes, that’s a certainty. It’s fine to be mad or outraged, but don’t dwell on it. Some folks never learn that lesson.”

“Like when you’re facing a stronger team, right? It’s super fun when you can clutch it out, but you can try your hardest and still lose.”

“Exactly. Sometimes, you just gotta take one on the chin and walk away.” That was a lesson Lungmen taught to all its inhabitants, although he had learned it well before he started his agency. “The people that feel the need to control everything around them always end up losing sight of what they have, and what they really want. No matter how many awards they win or milestones they achieve, they never end up happy. Sometimes it’s better to just put all your plans on hold and just do whatever.”

Suddenly, Cuora patted her stomach as it growled loudly. She turned to look up at Lee and, without hesitation, asked him, “Wanna go to the cafeteria? Dinner hasn’t started yet, so we can order something special from the chefs if they aren’t busy.”

“Case in point.” He smirked. “Do you like stir-fries. It’s been a while since I’ve made one and I have the itch. How good are you with spice?”

---

Subject: Free Vase, Any Takers?

To: Everyone

From: Doctor

Hey everyone,

I happened to come across a nice vase that I don’t really have a use for. It’s currently in my office right now, so bear that in mind when you come in. HR has organized a raffle for it, so feel free to sign up.

It should be safe to hold water and plants, the glazing is still intact. Alternatively, it is fairly big for a ceramic piece, so you can probably hold umbrellas or baseball bats or something in it. I attached a picture for scale as well. Remember to sign up if you want it.

Doctor

The Doctor sighed as he stared at the vase sitting in the center of his office. It was currently a temporary position for it, but he knew how quickly temporary turned into permanent if he didn’t do something posthaste. Since everyone thought it was originally his, it would probably be gone within a day or two. He made sure to omit any indication of who gave it to him to avoid future controversy. Lee did gift him a jade pendant already. And Cuora one of her bats.

Because of the loyalty he earned from the operators under his command, he was constantly awash with trinkets and tokens of their appreciation, enough that there were multiple storerooms for the things not currently on display. But he didn’t want to show any favoritism, and as such, what was in his office followed a very rigid and public schedule.

Some operators obviously tried to give him more than one thing, but he had to make it a policy to turn them down, lest every room he used be buried.

“With more and more people signing up, I wonder if Closure can find another spare storeroom.” He muttered to himself. He didn’t want to throw any of it away, that would be beyond rude to the people that gifted him in the first place. Every little trinket and token was more than just a thing to be used. They were all symbols of people’s trust in him. That was something he vowed to hold on to.

---

Cuora tossed a rubber ball at a wall, idly waiting in a meeting room for Lee’s contact to show up. She wondered who it could be. Was it a smith like Vulcan? Would it be some legendary warrior from Yan? Or maybe even those mysterious white-haired ladies she occasionally saw that everyone said were super strong?

She looked at her bat and backpack again. She had gone the extra mile and cleaned them just for today. Her bat polished and varnished to a mirror sheen. Her backpack freshly washed, and she even wiped down the plates herself.

“Sorry for the wait. I’m here. So you’re the one that wants to see Nian, right?” Cuora let her ball roll onto the floor as she looked up to see a purple-haired Sarkaz. One she already knew.

“Lava? Lava!” Cuora stood up.

“C-Cuora?” Lava was taken aback as the Petram ran up to her. When Lee said someone needed to see Nian, she figured it would be someone new.

“Eheh. Are you just stopping by? Mister Lee set me up with someone that can tell me about my stuff. Oh, but he said I should keep this a secret so you might have to leave. Sorry.” Cuora gave Lava an apologetic look. The Sarkaz simply pinched the bridge of her nose.

“He didn’t tell you anything, did he? That deadbeat.”

Meanwhile, in a car rolling through the barrens back to Lungmen, Lee was reclining in the backseat, enjoying the breeze from an open window to his left.

“Are you sure all your affairs are in order?” Hung asked from the driver’s seat.

“Can’t think of anything I missed.”

“You did tell that girl who she’s meeting with, right?”

“Heh. She’ll figure it out. It’s someone she already knows very well. Oh yeah, if the two of them stop by Lungmen, can one of you do me a favor and pick them up? I’d hate for them to get lost in the city.”

“Adopting another stray, boss?” Aak asked. “We’re gonna need a bigger car next time if that’s the case.”

---

Chapter Text

“Achoo!” The Doctor sniffled. “Achoo!”

A menagerie of fluffy beasts scattered at the man’s sudden twitching. Only to immediately congregate back onto the couch he was sitting on.

“Kitties, come on,” Mousse tried prying her pets off, but she was only one person, “you promised you’d behave today.”

“Sorry, professor,” Eyjafjalla clapped her hands together, her sheep looked over her way but refused to budge, “I hope they aren’t giving off too much heat.”

“It’s fine.” The Doctor stood up, and all the animals went back to their respective owners. “I’m surprised they’re out today, Adele.” Usually, her pets only appeared when she needed assistance with something. Or if they’re hungry. They’re practically ghosts on any other occasion. And Mousse’s pets were usually independent to the point where it wasn’t uncommon to see them wandering the halls on their own with their owner nowhere in sight.

“Hehe. I think they’re as excited as I am.” Eyjafjalla said. She and Mousse were already friends, but they never visited each other’s rooms before. They simply never had the time. Perhaps all their friends picked up on that excitement as well.

“The kitties like playing with you two, so I didn’t want to leave them out.” Mousse said as she knelt down and scratched one underneath its chin. Which simply prompted the others to bunch up, wanting a turn as well.

The Doctor smiled wryly. This would take a while. After every kitten received some love from their owner, he said, “Alright. Let’s get a move on then.” The two girls followed after him. And a veritable throng of animals behind them in a scene more fitting a farm than a landship.

---

A wave of hot air blew out of Eyjafjalla’s room, which reminded Mousse of opening an oven the moment something was done baking.

“Sorry.” Eyjafjalla said. The thermostat on her wall was set as high as it could go. And there was even a space heater plugged in with the dial cranked all the way to maximum. Even the office chair she did most of her desk work in had a thick blanket sitting in it. “Because of my condition, I feel cold most of the time. I even subconsciously use my Arts to warm myself up. I hope it isn’t too uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine.” Mousse took off her shawl and jacket. “It’s actually kinda cozy in here. We’ve been thinking about finding a place to start a book club, why not here? We can set down some beanbags and everything. Oh, but it might be too tempting to take a nap.”

The Doctor looked at the kittens laying flat on the floor, lethargically rolling over and yawning. Apparently they had the same idea, although it might also be heat exhaustion. As a precaution, the Doctor took a few plastic bowls out of Eyjafjalla’s kitchenette and filled them with water. That should tide them over for now. It probably won’t be an emergency until they start clawing at the door.

“Doctor, is it hot in your clothing?” Mousse asked as she folded her own clothes. Eyjafjalla took them and put them on top of her bed.

“Nah. It’s not that hot for me.” The was still wearing his usual get-up, although his hood was down as always for these social events.

“Oh, is it climate-controlled, professor?”

“Sort of. Don’t worry about it. I haven’t been bothered by worse heats.” He eyed the scientific journals on her desk. “Now let’s see what you’ve been studying.”

“Hmm? There’s not much out of the ordinary, professor.” There were the expected topics a volcanologist like her would keep up to date on. The latest in geothermal, geological, and volcanological findings. Some of which she probably wrote herself. However, there was one article in particular that stood out to the Doctor. A biology paper regarding the usage of heat-stable enzymes in laboratory settings. That was definitely out of her wheelhouse.

“Professor, do you remember that giant slug you fought back in Siesta?”

“G-giant slug? I remember there were earthquakes during the concert, but…” Mousse said. To think that something was happening while she and the rest of Rhodes Island were enjoying their vacation.

“It’s a long story.” The Doctor rubbed his forehead. “But there does exist a species of originium slugs in Siesta that nests in the obsidian caves there. Did you see some of those?”

Mousse frowned. “The kitties brought some back with them in their mouths. I had to make them spit it all out before we went back to the landship.”

The Doctor chuckled. That sounded like natural behavior for those creatures. “Anyways, the slugs are remarkably resistant to the heat, even tunneling close to the magma chambers of Siesta’s volcano.”

“It is fascinating, isn’t it?” Eyjafjalla said. “To think that there are creatures out there that can survive in such an environment. While most people can imagine the destruction volcanoes cause above ground, that’s only a fraction of the overall picture. Can these slugs somehow withstand the gases produced by the magma? Is it part of their metabolic process?”

“There are certainly extremophiles that exist in such conditions.” the Doctor said. Although most of them were microbes rather than macroscopic creatures. And even then, he doubted those could survive exposure to actual magma and lava. “And that queen of theirs deserves additional attention.”

“Wait…” Mousse’s ears drooped as she recalled one of the battle records she was made to watch for training. The footage wasn’t the best as fire was everywhere, but she could nonetheless recall some giant beast that Provence and Skyfire had faced. “Then that giant thing was –”

“We’ve taken to calling it Pompeii.” The Doctor said. Mousse fidgeted with her hands as she thought about having to fight something like that. She could rend through armor with no issue, but would a slug’s shell be considered armor? She would probably just burn herself trying to claw at it. “It was dangerous, but it was probably just trying to defend its territory. No sense killing an innocent animal over that, right?”

“Right. I’m glad we managed to spare it.” Eyjafjalla said. “When things calm down, I would love to observe it in its natural habitat. Although given that volcanoes operate on geologic time, that might not be feasible in our lifetime. And our drones don’t exactly fare well in high temperature environments unfortunately.”

“It is what it is.” The Doctor shrugged. “There’s life in all corners of the world, even the ones we think are impossible to live in.”

“Um, Doctor, I have a question.” Mousse unconsciously picked up one of her kitties and stroked its back out of nervousness. “Eyja, I hope you don’t get mad at me for saying this. When those girls were fighting it, it launched fire at them.”

“Ah, just like my Arts, right?” Mousse flinched as Eyjafjalla made the connection. It wasn’t one she hadn’t made herself, even some of the other casters had made similar remarks. “I’m not offended by it. I’d argue that perhaps both me and that slug drew inspiration from the same source.”

“Volcanic eruptions, right?” the Doctor said.

“Mhm. But I believe we differ in how we generate our phenomena. I use Arts to generate heat. This slug, though, perhaps it had been exposed to or ingested volatile gases and originium ore while tunneling or feeding on the walls of the caverns, which allowed it to spew out incendiary projectiles akin to lava. Ah, but life sciences are not my field of expertise, so this is just baseless conjecture.”

“Eh? You don’t think its Arts?” Mousse asked. While she had certainly never heard of an animal using Arts before outside of bedtime stories she read when she was young, the creatures she’s faced since becoming an operator have had many different abilities. Exploding, freezing her, emitting light just like a flashbang. They all resembled Arts, even if her sister never believed her.

“There are no recorded instances of animals being capable of using Originium Arts, no matter how intelligent they are.” the Doctor said. “So there is, unfortunately, near zero possibility of your pets being able to manifest Arts.”

“Honestly, it’s for the best.” Mousse let out a long sigh. Her kitties were already a nightmare when they were naughty. Just thinking about them having casting capabilities would give her a heart attack.

“But that doesn’t mean there aren’t creatures out there that can become casters.” the Doctor said. “Black swan events happen all the time. Perhaps we’ll find a creature one day that will recontextualize everything we know. With the various mutant slugs I’ve encountered, who knows what the limits are.”

“If we do, I’ll have to let Violet know. Then she’ll believe me.”

“Violet? Your sister, right? You mentioned her to me before. Hmm…” Eyjafjalla thought the name sounded familiar. And then her eyes widened as the realization dawned on her. “Wait, your sister is an Originium Arts researcher? Then that means –”

Mousse let out a sigh. “Yes, that Violet is my sister.”

“We have some of her publications in our library.” the Doctor said. “Although given that most don’t know your last name, it’s not a shocker that people don’t connect the dots.”

“There’s another reason for that.” Mousse’s tails drooped down as she unconsciously scratched her hands for a brief moment. Then she stopped, because she would keep scratching them if she didn’t. She looked down at her hands to make sure they’re still normal. Nothing out of the ordinary so far, and the infection monitor bracelet looked normal too.

The Feline wondered what would happen if her sister was the one that got sick instead. Instead of hiding away at home, Violet would probably take it as an opportunity to test all sorts of theories she had rattling around. She understood all the complex science stuff that flew over Mousse’s head.

“I didn’t quite catch the last part,” Eyjafjalla said as she adjusted her hearing aids, “but your sister must be worried sick about you. Knowing so much about originium but not being able to do anything to help you.”

“H-huh?” Mousse figured her siblings would be too busy with their own lives to worry about the shut-in that spent most of her days in the family garden. Even before that she wasn’t particularly exceptional, just being a novice baker while everyone else pursued far more difficult careers.

“I bet they miss your cooking.” the Doctor said.

“I was just an apprentice back then. I never really worked up the courage to make anything for anyone other than mummy. I’m sure they could’ve bought something much better than what I made. There are plenty of great bakeries where we live.”

“Perhaps back then, but what about now?” the Doctor said. Despite Mousse’s image of herself, everyone that hung around her could see what a diligent girl she was. The kitchen staff had nothing but praise for her, which was only matched by the general annoyance they had for the pets that followed her into the kitchen.

“I second that.” Eyjafjalla said. “Trust me, half the reason people show up to book club is to eat whatever you bring.”

Mousse tried to hide her blushing face as her two friends smiled.

“Actually, there is an oddity I noticed about this place.” the Doctor said as he looked around. Mousse was a little confused as she did so as well. “I don’t want to spoil anything, but Mousse, how much stuff do you have that’s strictly for your pets?”

“A bunch.” Adele’s sheep brushed up against the Feline’s legs briefly, heating them up like a warm sweater. There were pet bowls, her kitties were currently drinking from them. But the lambs would have nowhere to sleep unless they hopped onto the bed alongside the Caprinae. And it would be too small to fit all of them. Even Mousse struggled when all her kitties decide to jump on during the night. But Adele wasn’t cruel, so why wouldn’t she have more things?

To answer Mousse’s questions, Eyjafjalla took a rolled up rug and laid it out on the ground. The Doctor had to step back as the sheep rushed to claim a space on it, until the rug was covered in a ball of fluff. The heat they emanated was as powerful as the space heater.

“They don’t really like pet food. They prefer grazing so I’ve gotten permission to let them eat the weeds in the garden. They’ve always been like that ever since my mother gave them to me.”

“Your mother?” Mousse asked. Her kitties just started hanging around the garden until she befriended them. Or perhaps they befriended her. Did Adele’s mum give her pets so she’d be less lonely as well?

“My parents were often away on expeditions, so these little black sheep would help make the house feel less lonely.” Eyjafjalla smiled fondly as she sat down and leaned her head against one of the resting sheep. Curious, her two friends tried it as well. It was oddly comforting, enough that even the Doctor started to nod off. Or maybe that was just all his fatigue catching up to him. He shook himself awake and stood up again, wanting to get to the crux of his curiosity.

“These little ones are rather sneaky.” he said. “Even more so than the kittens.”

“They’ve always been like that.”

“Yes.” the Doctor said. Rhodes Island was home to many unique individuals, humans and otherwise. Some of them were quite mundane, and others not as much. Were these “little black sheep” of hers more akin to Beanstalk’s metal crabs, completely mundane if somewhat clever, or were they more along the lines of Miss Christine and Dusk’s Biteys?

Was their ability to generate heat akin to Pompeii or any other creature, a purely chemical and physical affair? Or did it run deeper and go back to her mother? Any theories on post-mortem Arts were bitterly controversial, with folk tradition and spirituality intertwining with scientific inquiry.

“Do you know where your mother found these?” the Doctor asked. Eyjafjalla frowned, disappointed that she couldn’t answer his question. He sighed, but otherwise wasn’t too discouraged. “Sorry for prying so much. That’s just how us researchers are. We see a mystery and we just have to know the answer.”

“Of course. That’s why I’m continuing their work. Speaking of which,” Eyjafjalla took out a set of laminated papers. And then a notebook filled with her own scrawling. “I was making more progress on some of the unfinished theories they left behind. Could you take a look over this part, professor?”

While the Doctor read through her work, Eyjafjalla turned her attention to Mousse.

“While he’s reading that, is there anything you want to talk about?” Eyjafjalla asked.

“Um, studying volcanoes is dangerous, right?”

“Mhm. Although studying any catastrophe or natural disaster is. It’s something every field researcher gets drilled into their head on their first expedition. Nature is something to be both respected and feared.”

“I know. I still get spooked when there’s a loud thunderstorm.” Mousse laughed weakly at herself. “But whenever there’s a catastrophe we have to drive around, I always see you on the observation deck.”

“Is that so strange?”

“N-no. I know it’s your job. But when I went up there to deliver some late night snacks once, I saw you looking at the lightning clouds. Your eyes, even though we were watching something terrifying, they seemed…excited?” Just like Violet whenever she saw some new form of Arts, no matter how powerful or destructive they were.

“Is that the impression I give?” Eyjafjalla scratched her cheek self-consciously.

The Doctor looked up from his reading and said, “I think the more fitting emotion is awestruck.” before going back to Eyjafjalla’s notes.

“Right, what the professor said. Of course we’re all still scared. We just get better at controlling that fear with experience. And knowing that panicking won’t help anyone when we’re the ones that have to make the decisions. But there’s still a majesty to witnessing natural processes unfold before your eyes. Even if they’re very dangerous. Even if they make you feel small.”

“Learning about the world shouldn’t kill the wonder of it all,” the Doctor said, “if anything, knowing makes the wonder all the more enjoyable. It’s like the difference between enjoying a tasty sweet and knowing how much work the baker had to put in to make sure everything, the frosting, the dough, the toppings, and everything else, is just right.”

The Doctor closed Eyjafjalla’s notebook while the Caprinae stared at him with bated breath. Until he finally said, “You’re on the right track I think. I can give you some of my notes on atmospheric originium later that might fill in the missing details. But that can wait for another day. We’re here to have fun, after all. Turn our brains off for a little bit.”

“Ah, r-right.” Eyjafjalla giggled as she looked over at Mousse.

“D-don’t mind me.”

“That won’t do. My research is important, I know. Especially with the limited time I have left. But I cherish the time I spend with all my friends just as much.”

She picked up a framed picture resting on her desk, depicting her, Sideroca, and Sussurro near the beach. “Doctor Sussurro said that recreation was important for my health.”

“Oh, this is from Dossoles, right?” the Doctor asked. If he remembered correctly, the incident with Ch’en there was a little after his own escapade in Siesta. “There wasn’t too much trouble, was there?”

“Not for us. The weather was great. And we even got to go for a swim after the competition.” The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief. At least someone got to enjoy their vacation.

“I was sad you couldn’t come with us to Siesta,” Mousse said, “so how about next time, we go together?”

“That sounds great.” The two girls stared at the Doctor expectantly.

“Uh, don’t hold me to anything.” He said. Knowing his luck, he’d only drag them into another weird adventure.

---

“Now kitties,” Mousse raised a finger as she lectured her pets outside of the Doctor’s room, “you have to be on your best, best, behavior. Promise?”

“They’re already in a line, so I’d say they’re good to enter.” The Doctor punched in his code. Even if they weren’t, he had made sure to pet-proof his room last night. Anything fragile or even free-standing had been secured behind locked cabinets. Or taped down.

As the Doctor’s door slid open, lamb and kitten alike rushed inside, eager to claim their own personal space before it could be taken by their competitors.

The Doctor clicked his tongue as he walked in to see the floor covered in sheep. And his desk and bed colonized by cats. “Figured as much.”

He would have to clean out his computer again considering all the fur currently rubbing against the warm metal. At least the duct tape holding his desk lamp on was still holding despite a certain kitten’s attempts at knocking it over.

“Oh, I recognize that journal.” Eyjafjalla politely shooed a kitten away from its resting place atop a stack of papers.

“Remember how I said we had some of Mousse’s sister’s publications here. Yeah, out of sheer coincidence, I was just reading something she was working on.”

“Really?” Mousse asked. “I wonder what she’s been doing recently.”

“An analysis on patient data of originium cell assimilation and Arts assimilation capabilities from 12 military hospitals.” Eyjafjalla skimmed through the abstract.

“Heh. Some of their findings are new. And some of them are things that Rhodes Island has known for a while.” the Doctor said.

“Really? There’s something even sis doesn’t know?”

“Rhodes Island has its own internal Arts tests that are strictly proprietary. It’s a tricky tightrope to walk, especially for moral reasons. Everyone knows that infection enhances Arts capabilities.”

“Right. I was never good at what they taught us in school.” Mousse said as she played with her infection monitor. “But now, I don’t even need to think about Arts to use them. Even when I’m panicking in the field.”

“Yep. Plenty of infected patients here are all to eager to use their newfound abilities.” The Doctor frowned as he thought about the many patients they had on board who started as test subjects. The one silver lining of the social stigma was that it prevented people from making casters en masse. “I understand why. Our medical treatments are very effective. It makes it mighty tempting to test things out thinking they don’t anything to worry about, but…You both know the price.”

“Professor.” Eyjafjalla sat down on the Doctor’s office chair as a wave of vertigo washed over her, the kittens moving out of the way immediately. She reached for her emergency suppressants hidden in a pocket, but thankfully didn’t need them as she regained her sense of balance. “But they’re like me, right?”

The Doctor nodded solemnly. From a medical perspective, plenty of patients should stay on the landship and be monitored 24/7. But that could only treat the physical aspect of their illness. No matter how healthy their bodies would be in that scenario, their minds would wither away. And so Rhodes Island let their patients walk freely. To wander back home to their families. To find jobs or opportunities or adventures elsewhere. To hike through uncharted wilderness with the danger of never making it back to civilization. That could cure something that all the drugs in the world couldn’t.

“No matter how much the doctors here try to discourage reckless behavior. People have a need to do something with their lives. To make their mark on the world.” He had a tired smile as he looked at Eyjafjalla. And then Mousse. “It doesn’t matter how simple or complex. Just doing something, anything, is better than sitting in a hospital bed all day.”

The two operators nodded resolutely. There was a reason why they went out into the field despite their condition.

Some light jingling interrupted the solemn moment as one of Mousse’s kittens began pawing at a bowl on the Doctor’s desk.

“Wah! Don’t eat that.” Mousse lifted a ceramic bowl out of reach of her pets.

“Oh. Forgot to get of that. Sorry, that was my 2 AM snack.”

“Snack?” After making sure her kitties lost interest, Mousse looked down at the bowl in her hands. She saw a few broken pieces of dried ramen noodles inside. Along with lingering spice dust. She was glad she managed to stop the kitties before they got so much as a lick in. This is the exact opposite of healthy.

“Professor, is this…snack enjoyable?”

“It’s better than what Kal’tsit tries to give me.” The Doctor nonchalantly finished a bottle of water that was rolling around on the floor. He sniffed the opening, detecting lingering traces of the instant ramen’s powder. “You just gotta remember to drink as much water as you would’ve used for broth. That way you don’t get a stomach ache.”

The two girls shared a concerned look as the Doctor nonchalantly picked up the bowl and poured the remaining contents into his mouth.

“Doctor,” Mousse said, her tails drooped down again, “why don’t I bake you something next time?”

“You don’t have to.”

“No. I insist.” Mousse puffed her cheeks and pouted.

“Alright. But I can’t just let you give me something without repayment.” The Doctor put a hand to his chin as he looked around. What could he possibly give in exchange for Mousse’s sweets? What would possibly be valuable enough for that?

And then inspiration struck. After telling the two operators to keep their pets under control, the Doctor opened on of his locked cabinets. Despite Mousse’s valiant efforts, one kitten did manage to sneak inside, forcing the Doctor to grab it by the scruff and haul it out.

The Doctor kicked the door shut. As he turned around, every kitten perked up as they looked at the cardboard box in his hands.

“So, Penguin Logistics dropped this off a while ago and I ended up being its keeper.” the Doctor said as he lowered the box onto the floor. A Monster Siren Records label was printed on its side. “Go ahead. Take a look. See if anything strikes your fancy.”

Mousse was the first to dive in. After sifting through the packing peanuts, she pulled out a T-shirt still in plastic wrapping. The stylized silhouette of a familiar singer drawn on its front.

“Sora? Did she have another concert? I haven’t seen any recordings posted.”

“Apparently she had some live event in Lungmen.” the Doctor said. “Penguin Logistics gave us the leftover merch.” Which he did not distribute explicitly because of the madness that would erupt should people find out the contents.

“Eh? This is – No way!” Mousse stared in awe at a vinyl disc sleeve. Or more specifically, at the autograph on said sleeve. “Sora signed this? And no one took it?”

“Sora?” Eyjafjalla asked as Mousse handed the sleeve to the Doctor with the utmost care, treating it akin to a holy relic. “Ah, that singer you’re a fan of? I remember you showing me some of her songs before.”

Mousse nodded as her tails swished around excitedly. “I’m her biggest fan. Ah. It says here she even did an exclusive sneak peek of her new song. The one that’s supposed to be released next month.”

“She keeps trying to ask me if she can get Sora’s autograph. Honestly, you could just walk up to her and ask.” the Doctor said. Sora and the rest of the Penguin Logistics girls probably wouldn’t mind. And it’s not like he has authority over who gets access to them.

The Doctor laughed as Mousse kept piling things into his arms. On top of the vinyl disc, she also wanted to apparently keep a pin, the t-shirt, and a small keychain accessory. And then a commentary track from the Emperor, a small plush of said penguin, and a water bottle.

“Ah. Wait.” Mousse looked at the Doctor’s arms, overloaded as they were. “S-sorry Doctor. I lost track.”

“All this stuff was just sitting in my closet.” The Doctor handed some of the lighter things to Eyjafjalla. “It’s in better hands with you.”

“There’s no way I can repay you for all this.” Despite her troubled words, both of Mousse’s friends could see the bright smile on her face. “If you ask me to bake you something, Doctor, I’ll make the biggest cake you’ve ever seen. Just tell me what type is your favorite.”

“I’ll think it over. Why don’t take this back to your room posthaste?” The Doctor chuckled as he watched some kittens pile into the now empty box. “And it looks like we’re taking the box, too.”

“My little ones can help with that.” Eyjafjalla said as her sheep lined up.

---

“There we go.” Mousse carefully and reverently pushed the vinyl record into a shelf close to ground floor. Most of the albums she had were either from Sora or the Emperor, so the newest one would be in good company. “Eheh. Sorry for being impatient. I want to listen to Sora’s new song now, but I know I should wait until I can devote my full attention to it.”

“I’m sure she would appreciate your dedication.” the Doctor said as Mousse stood up.

“Why do you store them on the bottom shelf?” Eyjafjalla asked as she directed her sheep to the center of the room. The Doctor lifted the cardboard box on their backs off. By now, the original contents were completely emptied, replaced entirely by all of Mousse’s pets who had decided to squat inside the box as the sheep carried it through the halls like a palanquin.

“The kitties like knocking things off. No matter how much I scold them not to.” Mousse sighed. She had learned to never put anything valuable and fragile too high. And to never store anything that the kitties liked playing with too high either unless she wanted to come back to see the shelves on the floor. Thus, the only things stored in her upper shelves were books, hats, and clothes. Things that won’t break if a kitty got playful.

The Feline pouted as she looked at how much the kitties enjoyed their new cardboard box. And then she looked at all the things in her room she bought for them. Like a pet tower. A scratching post. Multiple cushions.

“They’re a bunch of spoiled children sometimes.” Mousse’s two friends laughed softly. Despite all the trouble they caused her, she has never once said anything about abandoning them.

“You’re more like them than you might think.” The Doctor snickered.

“Huh?” Mousse gave the Doctor an unamused stare. Sure, she occasionally felt the need to scratch at things, but Haze was much more like the kitties in how capricious she was. Mousse was nothing like that. “What are you implying, Doctor?”

“Take a look at what’s in your hands at the moment.”

Mousse looked down to realize that, at some point, she had picked up a ball of yarn and was idly playing with it. Without a word, she let go, and her kitties swiftly batted it away from her. “I didn’t use to do this before I met them. I wonder sometimes if they’re rubbing off on me.”

“I don’t think many people would go so far as to buy this much if they didn’t love these creatures.” Eyjafjalla said.

“Or go through the effort of getting military-grade fabric to make curtains.” the Doctor said as he pinched the heavy curtain between his fingers.

“Bibeak suggested it to me after the kitties ripped my curtains again.” Judging by the claw marks at the very bottom, they were still trying to do it. “Do you know how embarrassing it was when my mum walked in and she saw how messy my room was?”

“Oh yeah. I remember that.” The Doctor could vaguely recall an incident at that time when an angry mob of around ten or so people suddenly formed in the halls outside the cafeteria. All over a mere rumor that something made Mousse cry. Thankfully, the situation was just a misunderstanding caused by her pets again and the mob soon scattered, but he knew they would’ve broken out the torches and pitchforks if the rumor was true. “How did it go?”

Mousse said nothing at first, but the largest smile Eyjafjalla and the Doctor had ever seen appeared on her face. “Better than I thought it would. I hope mummy can bring daddy over the next time. And maybe some of my siblings as well.”

“Siblings, huh? You already talked a little about Violet, but what about the others?” Eyjafjalla asked. For all the time she had spent with Mousse, Eyjafjalla didn’t know much about the Feline’s family. Mousse never talked about them, often making vague statements whenever asked.

“I know it must seem like we’re not on good terms, but please don’t get the wrong idea.” Mousse took a picture frame out of her bedside drawer. A family of Felines, all dressed in formal attire and taken in a professional studio.

“There’s mummy. And daddy.” Mousse pointed to the two adults. “That’s Byron. He’s a Lieutenant Colonel in the Victorian military. That’s Emily, she works as a consultant for multiple banking firms. You already know who Violet is. And that’s my little brother Carl, he’s a professional athlete.”

Eyjafjalla’s eyes widened as Mousse rattled off her siblings’ accomplishments. Her family was accomplished, and Adele herself had inherited much of her parents’ talents. Enough to be considered a young prodigy. But for an entire family to be that professionally accomplished was still wild.

“I’d say we were blessed with a good life thanks to our wealth. That’s what made it possible for us to focus on what we love.” Mousse said. “And that was probably why my family could shelter me after I got infected. They’re even helping pay for my treatments here. Even though I couldn’t do anything to help them for so long.”

Eyjafjalla frowned. That was why Mousse always seemed sad whenever they chatted about anything money-related, even though the Feline had no trouble paying for things.

The Doctor figured that was also why Mousse had confidence issues. The oripathy was definitely a big part of it, sure. But being surrounded by highly competent siblings while pursuing a more humble line of work probably weighed on her as well, especially since her family’s support of her was still completely unconditional. At least her mental state has been improving ever since her mother visited. Whatever they talked about gave Mousse the pick-me-up she needed.

Mousse gave one last fond look at the picture before stashing it away again.

“When mummy came, I wanted to show her how much I’ve grown. That I can take care of myself. But next time, I want to show everyone that I’m talented too.”

“Go for it.” the Doctor said. “We’ll be rooting for you.”

“There are plenty of people here that would praise you to the high heavens.” Eyjafjalla said. “And I’m one of them.”

“Aww, you two.” Mousse turned around to hide her blushing face. When she turned back around, she held a stack of loose papers in her hand. “This is what I’ve been doing ever since mummy visited.”

“What’s this?” The Doctor read some of the papers. In Mousse’s own handwriting was a list of ingredients, instructions on dough preparation, how long things should be in the oven, and so on. “A cookbook?”

Mousse giggled bashfully. “I was never good at anything in school. And I’m not strong. But I know how to bake. And since there are so many people at Rhodes Island from all over, I’ve gotten inspiration from a bunch of different cultures. So I figured I should write them down so anyone can make them.”

“I see.” Eyjafjalla said. Mousse’s instructions were easy to understand. Even she could see herself making some of the simpler recipes despite her complete lack of experience.

“Uh, there seem to be a few errata.” The Doctor snickered as he flipped through the pages and arrived at some that contained half-finished instructions covered in paw prints.

“Haa…One of my pens broke and then the kitties walked over everything. I had to spend the rest of the day scrubbing my walls and floors clean. Sorry, I thought I got rid of all of those.”

“Don’t worry. It could be worse.” the Doctor said. He knew of at least one old manuscript that had a urine stain on it. “So who have you been asking so far?”

“Hung has been super helpful. And Miss Blue Poison as well. Her desserts might look a bit odd at first, but they’re fantastic.” Mousse said cheerfully. “And I’ve had the people from Laterano try my work. They can be harsh critics when it comes to sweets, but they’re always so insightful. Even if I have to ignore their requests to add more sugar sometimes.”

Whenever either the Doctor or Eyjafjalla flipped to a new page, Mousse would chime in with a story about who she asked, or about the experimentation she had to do to get the taste just right, or how to make modifications to accommodate for allergies, even alternatives that medical would permit without compromising the taste. Although even she had given up trying to appease Hibiscus despite Honeyberry’s support on the matter.

The two of them listened silently as Mousse spoke. The Feline’s voice had none of its usual uncertainty as she discussed matters of flour and sugar and cream. Anyone that saw Mousse working in the kitchen early in the morning to bake muffins for breakfast or late in the afternoon to make pastries for dessert after dinner could tell what her calling was.

“A-anyways, I know what I’m making probably isn’t as important as anything you two would write –“

“Don’t go saying that.” The Doctor wagged a finger around and winked. Eyjafjalla nodded. “Food is a basic necessity. But there’s a fine line between something being edible and eatable.”

“H-huh?” Mousse tilted her head to the side.

“Edible just means our stomachs won’t reject it. But eatable? That means we enjoy eating it.”

Eyjafjalla had a doubtful look on her face. Given what she had learned today, the Professor’s palate didn’t exactly scream gourmand. But maybe even he had his limits.

The Doctor giggled under his breath as he looked around suspiciously. “Don’t tell Kal’tsit I said this, but her cooking is very much an example of having the former with none of the latter. The last time she tried to feed my something, I got some weird cubes in a bag. They were fine, but…you know, she needs to work on her presentation.”

The Doctor flinched, expecting Mon3ter to leap out at him for insulting its owner’s cooking. After nothing happened, he breathed a sigh of relief and cleared his throat. “Anyways, the joy of eating good food isn’t something you should downplay.”

“It’s just as the professor says. Plus, our publications, despite their practical applications, will only be read and understood by a select few experts. A cookbook on the other hand, if you keep it up, your recipes could be in every home sooner or later.”

“Right. And that’s just considering however many households keep physical copies. We also have to consider how many get passed down through word of mouth as well.” the Doctor said. “Who knows, maybe you’ll end up creating a recipe that’s still being baked hundreds of years later. Meanwhile, discoveries and inventions like ours will be rendered obsolete within the next decade.”

“I get it. I get it.” Mousse collected her papers and reorganized them again. As she sorted through them all, she stopped on one page in particular.

Her two friends leaned in to take a look at what captured the Feline’s attention. On this particular page, the writing was much neater. The recipes they had read before were written in clear print, designed to be read at a glance by anyone in the middle of actually cooking the meals. This one, though, was written in cursive lettering.

“I was never great at calligraphy,” Mousse said as she looked at what she had written fondly, “but I wanted to try for this one.”

“Well, it’s much better than mine.” the Doctor said. Looking through the recipe, it wasn’t exactly a complex one. Not more than the muffins and bread Mousse usually cooked in the mornings. The ones that were meant to be cooked quickly and then picked up and eaten on the go. “So what’s the story behind this?”

“Eheh. I’m sure it sounds really cheesy, which is why I didn’t bother including it. But this was what me and mummy baked when she came to visit. It was the first thing we made together since I left home. It’s mostly whatever we found in the kitchen, but…”

“But the name says it all.” Eyjafjalla said. Mother’s Pride.

“The next time she comes, I’m going to bake her enough to fill an entire basket. And if everyone else comes, enough to fill however many baskets they can carry.” Mousse declared. “Oh, but the trip home will be long, so I should bake some non-perishables as well. Maybe some fruitcake. Or perhaps, Doctor, would it be possible for me to use Medical’s sterilization equipment. Do you think it’s safe?”

“It should be. We use those machines to make rations. And I’m sure there are plenty of lab techs willing to let you use their stuff anyways.”

“If you need any help, just let me know.” Eyjafjalla thought about her own work as one of her sheep nuzzled up against her legs. While her own parents sadly couldn’t bear witness to her work, she often wondered whether she was honoring them by pursuing the same path. As such, if someone like Mousse had the some feelings, she at least wanted to help out however she could.

“I’m sure all of them would be proud of both of you.” the Doctor said.

---

Subject: Expansion of Veterinary Services

To: Medical

From: Doctor

Hi everyone,

So, as I understand it, the official policy for pets is that they are forbidden except for occupational, emotional, or disability support. And even then there are restrictions because of allergies.

And yet we seem to make an exception for just about every, patient, operator, family, visitor, or other person that brings an animal onboard. So, rather than try to capture and eject the veritable zoo we have, I propose we expand the veterinary section rather than asking doctors and medics to take on additional tasks. Amiya and I have already worked out the details with Closure over equipment procurement and room allotment, so we just need more dedicated personnel.

Anyone that wants to volunteer or knows people, just let HR know.

Sincerely,

Doctor

PS. Disregard the previous email I sent. Some of the animals found their way into my office and walked all over my keyboard.

---

Subject: aaswdghj;lkjihcds

To: Medical

From: Doctor

(field left blank)

“Oh, Barty. Good. You’re here.” the Doctor said as he held a small lamb underneath his arm. And a kitten in the other.

“Uh, is that Miss Adele’s? And Miss Mousse’s?” the operator asked as the lamb bleated. And the kitten idly licked its own face. There wasn’t a shred of guilt on either of their faces.

“I don’t know how they got here. I don’t care. What I do care about is that they’ve learned how to send emails.”

“As in, they understand or…?”

The Doctor shrugged. He wasn’t sure if it was a Yanese Room sort of thing or if the animal had actually learned the concept of sending digital messages. The end result was the same. Mass confusion, and panic from some of the operators as rumors spread, over a blank email.

“Just hand them over to me. I’ll take them back.” Barty looked a little hesitant as the lamb and kitten stared at him with sad eyes. The Doctor sighed, slumping his shoulders.

“You can come back.” he said begrudgingly, “it just has to be when your owners are here as well.”

As the animals walked after Barty, the Doctor sat down again. He wondered if the kittens were having an influence on the lambs. Or if it was something else entirely.

---