Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Emil had a little time to spare before embarking on his next mission. He walked the blustery streets of the city, looking for someplace that might be open to get a last meal before meeting up with his new crew. Most of the district’s storefronts were dark and shuttered; a few had wind-blown signs for shops that had tried and failed to make a go of a business. Fortunately, the diner was still open, a cheerful bright light spilling out onto the street. Emil pushed through into the airlock foyer gratefully, waiting impatiently for the inner door to admit him.

His spirits fell somewhat as he gazed up at the menu board. The prices were even higher than the last time he’d been on base, but he’d been craving a nice juicy hamburger for weeks. Undecided, Emil looked over at the table next to him, occupied by a very broad man tucking into one of 10 or so burgers stacked precariously onto his tray. Ten burgers? He must be rich. Transfixed, Emil watched his astonishingly bushy gingery sideburns flare out in rhythm with the man’s chewing.

“You gonna order, pal? I wanna eat before they put the prices up again, y’know.”

Emil broke out of his trance and threw an annoyed grimace over his shoulder at the rude person behind him. He hurriedly placed an order at the console, watching glumly as the credits came off his card. There was barely enough left to cover the automatic debits for rent on his room while he was gone, assuming they didn’t hike the rent in his absence. Not a safe assumption. Well, he’d have nothing but horrible meal ration blocks for the next while, so a little splurge was probably worth it. Probably.

Order collected, Emil found a table facing away from the whiskery man and picked up his dinner, grinning with anticipation as meat juices mixed with sauce spilled onto his plate. Definitely worth it.

As he opened his mouth wide to take the first bite, Emil became aware he was being watched. A young boy with large pale eyes was seated at the next table facing him. The pale eyes seemed to enlarge to fill Emil’s view, until all Emil could see was the compelling glowing blue eyes. The glow reflected off the boy’s arms. Off the cyborg’s arms, Emil corrected himself as the spell was broken and he lowered the burger.

There was no food in front of the cyborg, and Emil couldn’t help noticing that the organic part of him was thin. Emil sighed. He didn’t look like a machine, just a young guy like himself, only with gleaming metal arms exposed by his sleeveless uniform vest. He also wasn’t actually looking at Emil anymore; the pale eyes were unfocussed and grey, no doubt getting a transmission on his readouts. Emil bit into his burger, chewing thoughtfully. He hadn’t dealt with the cyborgs much in his unit, they kept to themselves and their collective, and they blurred together in his memory. This one looked quite different. I bet nobody ever called *him* fat.

Another cyborg, with similar hair and facial structure but taller and broader, strode over and stood at the thin one’s table. Wordlessly the smaller cyborg got up and followed the larger one out of the diner. Like all of the cyborgs, their uniforms displayed the logo of their employer, the gang commonly just called The Company, that controlled everything on this world. Emil mused that the cyborgs probably had a separate feeding area in their collective, where they at least could get their minimum energy needs met. He’d realised with a pang that he’d never thought about cyborgs needing food before.

A quick glance at the time on his comms unit told him he had to get moving. He had to get to the shuttle bay to pack out for his new mission, and he had just enough time to get back to his storage cubicle to pick up his equipment. His special equipment. Whoever organised the meeting time for this mission had done Emil a large favour, setting it up for just before the evening security crew changeover. The gang flunkies weren’t quite as diligent with enforcing the regulations at the end of their shift. Often they had ‘quarantined’ any alcohol they could find, keeping the better stuff to impress the bosses above them, and drinking the rest. Emil reckoned he had a decent chance of getting his special equipment across without issues.

He was wrong.

The flunkies at the outbound checkpoint were awake, mostly sober, and bored.

Emil had tried showing his pass while walking through confidently, but one of the goons grabbed at the strap of his duffel and spun him around. Emil tried convincing them that the canisters they were so carelessly jostling about were actually samples of hair products that he was taking to an outpost. While one of the guards took one look at Emil's impeccable shining hair and bought the story, the other paused in his laughter just long enough to throw the empty duffel bag at Emil and told 'little blondie' to get lost.

The fact that Emil had obtained these canisters of high-potency accelerants as ‘leftovers’ of previous jobs himself did nothing to lighten his sour mood. Glumly he trudged to the designated bay, inventing withering ripostes.

He heard her voice before he’d gone more than a couple of meters past the bulkhead. There was a long line of armored vehicles stretching down the unheated bay, blocking his view, but the guffaws bounced off the hard surfaces of the vehicle bay until it sounded like the vehicles were all laughing along.

“Two of ‘em! Will y’look at that! Y’know, I’ve never worked with a ‘borg like you before! How is it with you?” Emil couldn’t hear the response to that, but he was sure half the base heard her next shout. “You there! Time to load this tank. Chop chop karate chop! Ha? Hai? Geddit, karate chop?”

An icicle chose that moment to dislodge itself from its fellows on the beam directly over the voice and plummet downward. Emil gave a small cry and started to run toward the lit bay. He reached the pool of light just in time to see a tall officer of the planetary security force catch the icicle mid-fall and swoop it in an arc through the air. “Whoa! I got it, YEAH!,” she whooped, shaking the icicle in the general direction of the heavens, “better luck next time, HA!” The heavens did not see fit to answer her challenge.

A voice just out of Emil’s sight rumbled, “There’ll be plenty of next times where we’re going.”

As he drew closer, Emil saw the tall officer was faced by the two cyborgs he’d seen in the diner. The larger one scowled up at the officer, bare metal arms crossed over his chest. The thin one stood behind, one hand on the vehicle beside him, weight balanced on the balls of his feet as though ready to run. His eyes flicked momentarily over to Emil before flicking back to stare warily at the officer.

"That, is the truth," she chuckled. She turned to launch the icy javelin away down the bay, catching sight of Emil at the last second before releasing it. In one fluid motion she completed the turn and slid the icicle across the concrete floor away from Emil instead. It burst into shards upon impact with the next vehicle in the rank.

"Hey, looks like our kaboomer's finally here! So nice of you to join us." She strode over to Emil, gloved hand extended. Up close, she towered over Emil, grinning broadly as she shook his hand heartily. "Great! I'm Captain Sigrun Eide, and you're our... hang on, where's your kit?" She looked at the emptied duffel bag dangling from Emil's shoulder and his small personal bag. "Those slush brains! You have tell them you're going to sell their face back to their boss, or they'll take everything you've got. You new here or something?" She clouted him on the shoulder.

Emil rolled his eyes and pulled past her. "No, I'm not new," he muttered. "They took the extra stuff. But you're still supposed to have the normal equipment. Right?" His menacing glower from under his heavy fringe lost some of its effect on its way up to her height, but she shrugged and stepped back anyway.
"We've got whatever we've got over there next to the tank, but they're doing this mission on the cheap. I'll have you check against the logs for what we're supposed to have, when the Reclamation Officer gets here." She partially turned to address the cyborgs, "you wanna go see what's keeping 'em?" The taller cyborg uncrossed his arms and walked smoothly to the driver's door of the tank. He conferred quietly with the smaller one, who gave monosyllabic answers while not taking his eyes off the captain.

"No need. I'm right here." Emil swivelled at the sound of the rumble beside him. He hadn't registered the figure that emerged from the shadow of the vehicle he'd been leaning against. It was the man with the bushy sideburns he'd seen scoffing the pile of burgers. He wasn't wearing any sort of uniform or identification badge; in fact, he was dressed rather shabbily in a creased shirt and crooked tie, with battered indoor shoes and a tattered lightweight trench coat. Emil thought he did not look remotely ready for an expedition on the ice.

The captain seemed to share Emil's skepticism as she looked the man up and down. "Ooookay. So, have we got everything? Is this all we're getting, Mister..."

"Mikkel Madsen. And sadly, that's it." He picked up one pack from the pile next to the tank and hefted it lightly in one hand. "It may almost be adequate."

Sigrun grunted. "Well, let's get this vehicle packed then." She looked around to Emil and the cyborgs, "if you would be so kind."

Emil moved to comply. The larger cyborg nodded to the smaller one, motioning him to assist before picking up two of the packs lightly himself. Emil almost fell over when he attempted to pick up one of the packs. This must be one of the heavier ones.. Emil joined the smaller cyborg at the pile of assorted incendiary launchers instead. Emil offered to load the cyborg with a pile to take aboard. Sliding the shoulder straps onto the outstretched metal arms, he asked, "Hey, I didn't catch your name. I'm Emil Västerström, I'm with the Pyro Division." The cyborg gazed impassively at Emil but didn't reply. "I, uh, well, we call it the Pyro Division, but it's really the," he faltered, "anyway, we'll be working together, huh?" The cyborg tilted his head to one side and silently turned on his heel to take the devices to the tank. Emil sighed.

Sigrun clouted him on the shoulder again. "Don't worry about it. That one is our reconnaissance 'borg, they're not the most social units around. I don't even know if that one talks, maybe just downloads their report directly into the tank's nav system."

He frowned. Had she not heard him talking to the other cyborg? Emil usually didn't look at mission files very closely beforehand, since the brief was almost invariably the same: long tedious drive out to someplace with valuable resources, guard duty, and either abject boredom in the frozen wasteland or teeth-chattering terror in the frozen wasteland. Beside the credits in his account, the only worthwhile thing about going on missions was practicing the fine art of blowing things up. But watching the cyborg swiftly but carefully place each frame in its appropriate slot, he regretted not paying more attention, at least enough to get the names.

Sigrun picked up one of the large packs and tossed it over easily to the larger cyborg. Her eyes fell on the ‘Reclamation Officer’. “The briefing folder didn’t have much to say about you, not even a picture. I get that The Company wants one of theirs along to make sure they get their cut.” Mikkel inclined his head to concede the point. “But they could just program Shiny Arms over there for that.”

“I am quite capable of ensuring a positive result.”

“Are you seriously telling me you’re going to bring in more than you consume to get it?”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Emil broke his reverie to scoff, “I saw him eat like, *10* hamburgers at the base station diner.” Under the glares Sigrun and Mikkel fixed on him, Emil quailed. “I am,” he pointed feebly at the munitions locker, “going to check the explosives. To, see, if they’re there. The regular ones. Ready for, for use.”

The captain rolled her eyes at the departing Emil’s back before fixing her stare back to Mikkel. Gesturing at his shabby clothes, she grinned, “So tell me straight, why you? No judgement okay, I can work with it, I just want to know what my risks are.”

Emil mulled over that question himself but did not stop to hear the answer. He dragged one of the packs to the back of the vehicle and managed to hoist it onto the threshold. Belying his small stature, the cyborg picked it off the threshold comparatively easily and carried it inside. Finding the identifying tag, the cyborg stared at it briefly to scan the line item on the manifest, before taking it to the food preparation area. Emil leaned in, peering at the sleeping bunks. A snap of metal fingers brought Emil's attention back to the cyborg. He pointed at the bunk with Emil's name on its label. Emil nodded and stepped up inside the cab, laying his personal bag on the bunk. "Thank you. Um, what should I call you? I mean, your designation is probably fine, but to be honest I'll find a name easier to remember."

The cyborg tipped his head but made no attempt to move away. The larger cyborg stepped in through the cabin, giving a grunt as he passed. "Lalli, come with me," the larger cyborg commanded. Lalli blinked briefly at Emil before turning to comply.

Emil smiled then. "Nice to meet you, Lalli."

Chapter Text

It didn't take very long to load the mission gear into the vehicle. Several of the overhead compartments were completely empty. Emil puzzled over the number of incendiary frames, which far outnumbered the regulation canisters; usually the ratio was reversed. Mikkel had come aboard and was unloading two packs full of packaged ration blocks into the kitchen area, but there appeared to be no fresh food whatsoever.

The captain stepped up into the cabin. "That's the last of it," she said, "we're meant to stop in Sunder anyway, but I sure hope they've got more for us there, or this is going to be a long hard trip." She chortled, "and I don't just mean on the toilet!"

Mikkel looked at her briefly over his shoulder before turning back to the provisions. "We will make do. I can make contact en route with some suppliers."

Sigrun snorted. "We can talk more later, once we're on the way, right?"

Mikkel gave a slight nod, before looking pointedly from under his bushy eyebrows at the pillars closest to the vehicle.

Emil knew that gesture, he'd seen it often enough. The Company is listening. Emil's division often worked with The Company to provide specialist engineers and other specialists such as himself but remained independent. Sigrun was an officer of the military, which was supposedly also independent of the gangs but also notoriously complicit. But Mikkel was openly employed by The Company, why would he care about the surveillance? The two cyborgs were also in the gang, did Mikkel think he could get anything past the collective?

As though reading Emil's thoughts, the larger cyborg pushed between Mikkel and Sigrun on his way to the front of the vehicle. "Clearance came through. We're going."

"Hold on ... you," Sigrun grabbed the cyborg on his shoulder. He glared at her, eyes briefly glowing blue. Flushed as red as her flamboyant hair, Sigrun locked eyes with him, "Listen, what is your name again? You're not wearing a name tag. But I am the officer in charge of this mission. We go when I say we're ready to go. Hai?"

The cyborg kept his eyes locked onto Sigrun. "Onni Hotakainen, Mission Engineer, level 5." That level was equal to hers. "You have clearance to proceed with this mission. I have authorisation to interface with this mechanic vehicle. Please prepare for departure." He turned and proceeded forward without waiting for the captain's response. Lalli fell in silently behind him.

Emil barely dared breathe. Sigrun's eyes had narrowed as she glared at Onni's back. "We haven't even started and already we have mutiny," she muttered.

Mikkel's rumbling chuckle brought her glare onto him. "Did you not read the mission brief?" he chuckled.

"Yeah, I did read the brief smart guy, but the 'borgs didn't get assigned until later, and Uncle Trond certainly didn't-" She broke off, scowling.

Mikkel's eyebrows rose and fell, but he said nothing.

Emil frowned. 'Trond' is not a common name, he thought. I've only ever heard of one, but she can't have meant *him*.

Chapter Text

Onni hoisted himself into the driving cabin and strapped himself into the front harness. Taking a deep breath, he placed one hand on either side of the navigation unit. A panel on each wrist opened, corresponding with ports which extended from the unit, attaching with a barely audible click. His breath caught in his throat. Emil couldn't see his face, but he was concerned to see Onni's head bow and shoulders sag. The vehicle chirped, "Interface complete. Hello, Onni. Start sequence initiated. Mission upload complete. Awaiting route data."

Eyes closed, Lalli bowed his head over the instrument panel beside him as he extended his own hand and wrist to interface with the vehicle. Again the vehicle chirped, "Interface complete. Hello, Lalli. Updating route data, complete. Conditions update." Lalli left his hand on the unit for a few more seconds before removing it and letting it fall limply to his side. His head remained bowed.

Emil frowned at the two cyborgs as he fastened his seat harness. While it was true he'd never actually watched the cyborg drivers on previous missions, he didn't have the impression that the process was painful in any way. They normally patched in, set the parameters, and away they went. They usually didn't even stay connected very long, preferring to let the vehicle self-drive. But Onni remained strapped in, the blue glow from his eyes reflected on his metal arms.

The vehicle pulled away from its bay and smoothly drove to the airlock doors. Sigrun chuckled, "Good thing we get the 'borg to drive now – I remember the last time I tried to pull out of the berth myself. Took out a pillar and a whole pallet of latrine cleanser." Neither Onni nor Lalli acknowledged her comment.

Once past the inner airlock, the roar from the outside weather became audible, and increased markedly as the outer airlock slowly opened. As the vehicle moved out onto the depot road, the windward side windows quickly filled with snow as they were buffeted by the wind.

Lalli slid to the floor of the vehicle between the interface and Emil's seat, but did not strap in. A quick look confirmed that neither the captain nor the reclamation officer were strapped in either. Emil debated taking his harness off but decided that would be awkward and left it on.

"Just another day in Paradise," Sigrun quipped. "Glassy seas and cocktails on the Lido Deck at sunset."

Mikkel raised one eyebrow. "I somehow was under the impression that you weren't the type to take a slow ocean cruise."

"What are you talking about? No, that's a line from my favourite kino, 'Disaster Cruise'! Remember, the one where they get a whole security squadron onto some boat off-world, and then it gets blown up!" Pushing aside the privacy curtain by the bunks, Sigrun started doing chin-ups on the curtain rod.

Mikkel looked at Sigrun for a long moment before responding, "Are you talking about the one where most of this kino is the boat's crew showing the security personnel the engine back-ups and safety equipment?"

"Well, yeah, but it's worth sitting through the boring part to get to the good part."

"The good part being... the review of the evacuation procedures?"

"What? No. That bit's boring too. I mean the part they're trying to go faster and the engineer puts in too much fuel or something and the whole engine room goes KABLOOEY! And there's people getting blown out into the water and stuff. I've never been off-world, I mean, I guess there are worlds with liquid water on the surface like that, but, yeah." She continued doing chin-ups.

Mikkel looked over at Emil, "Is this a kino you enjoy, Emil?"

Emil shrugged. He was not going to admit that he didn't often have spare credits for kinos. He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, "The explosions they do for kinos are nothing like the real thing."

Mikkel snorted. "I'm sure. Especially since 'Disaster Cruise' was a safety video for training the security force, not a kino."

"No it wasn't," Sigrun spat, "we don't have big boats or anything like that here!"

"True." Mikkel pulled a comms unit from the inside pocket of his tattered trench coat. At a touch, a small file slid out of the side, which Mikkel put to work filing his nails. "We do, however, have security forces that could use training in avoiding... reckless misuse of Company equipment in any circumstance."

Sigrun's boots thumped to the floor two chin-ups later. She kept one hand on the bar, placing the other on her hip as she glared at Mikkel. "You mean, like making your nails all pretty with a comms unit?"

Somehow Mikkel managed to not burst into flame under the heat of the stare. He slid the file back into the casing on the comms unit. "I applaud your efforts at keeping physical readiness high. It will serve you well."

Sigrun's eyes narrowed further. Emil vowed to himself never to bring that glare onto himself if he could help it. Instead, he stared at Mikkel's comms unit. Aside from the hidden file, it was obviously a very new and high-spec unit, quite at odds with the overall downtrodden appearance of its holder. I was right, he is rich. He wondered what he would have to do to get that kind of equipment.

Emil's family had once also been rich. His forbears had managed to secure rights to one of the planet's hot springs (exactly how they had accomplished that acquisition was the stuff of family rumour and legend) and built a resort. It was a popular spot for government and Company entertainment of off-world investors, in an attempt to show the harsh planet in a favourable (and profitable) light. But their tastes in physical comfort and luxury were more in evidence than adherence to building codes, and the family's fortunes had literally collapsed in the inevitable seismic event only a few years before. The resulting tangle of fines and lawsuits left the whole family impoverished and bereft of the patronage of government and gang alike. The spring itself even abandoned them, rerouting its course and re-emerging outside the Västerström holding.

The security forces were not too concerned with Emil's patchy educational focus. The low-ranking officer in charge of Emil's orientation was delighted to finally have somebody around who was even lower in the pecking order, with the added bonus of posh bathing habits to ridicule at every opportunity. The only bright spot for Emil had been learning about the incendiaries and explosives his division utilised.

When his uncle and aunt had mentioned a resource expedition they had a hand in organising, Emil had immediately lobbied for a place in it. It wasn't until this moment, sitting between the sullen and silent cyborgs and the bantering officers, strapped into an all-terrain vehicle buffeted by the harsh winds Outside, that Emil wondered why the only incendiaries they packed were combat weapons.

Chapter Text

After some time churning along in silence, Sigrun addressed her crew, "This first bit should be pretty easy, especially since we don't have moon synch to deal with. We'll take the main road to Palm Grove and recharge there."

"Assuming they have a berth," Mikkel drawled, rising from his seat. He walked to the sleeping area, edging carefully past Sigrun.

"Well of course." Sigrun huffed, "But we should get one all right, it's not the high season." She continued before Mikkel could interject again, "and even if it's full up, it won't be that much of an issue. As long as we top up somewhere this side of Greenstone Gully, we should be fine."

Mikkel cleared his throat, "I have associates to check in with when we get to Palm Grove, but it shouldn't take long." He busied himself procuring items from his duffel bag onto his bed, then shuffled back to the vehicle's toilet cubicle.

Sigrun merely grunted in reply. She casually unsheathed the knife she carried, checking its edge.

Onni and Lalli didn't even acknowledge Sigrun's statement, but Emil assumed they already had accessed the route itinerary. He turned to Lalli, "Okay, since we're not going to Sunder first, will you be doing any recon before Palm Grove?"

Lalli shook his head. He extended his arm up over his head so he could hold his wrist scanner to the panel closest to him for a long moment, then shook his head again as he brought the arm down, with a small sigh. Onni half-turned in his seat toward Lalli before turning back to the interface. Emil wondered if they were having a conversation over their internal channels, based on Lalli's fixed stare at the floor in front of him.

Wouldn't it be awesome to just talk to somebody in your head?, Emil thought. They would understand you, automatically! You wouldn't have to worry about finding the right words or anything, you'd just be in tune. Onni snorted without turning around, Lalli snorting in turn a moment later. I could share private jokes like that, or even dreams, Emil mused.

His pleasant reverie was suddenly derailed. Wait, what if they're talking about me like that? Are they making fun of me? He surreptitiously checked whether he'd spilled any burger sauce on himself. He fluffed then resettled his fringe of blonde hair. He crossed and uncrossed his legs. Maybe it would stink. I'd hate it if I could hear them making fun of me, and not even behind my back. Emil unbuckled his harness and stood up to take off his jacket.

The tank lurched. Emil lurched. He frantically reached out for the nearest hand strap, with the jacket sleeve still halfway on that arm. He missed but still found himself sitting heavily back into his seat, a slender metal arm crossing his midriff. Lalli was regarding Emil with calm eyes, with no readout scrolling past, withdrawing his arm once Emil was stable.

"Wow, you are fast," Emil marvelled, "thanks for the save." Lalli lowered his eyes and gave a half-smile and small bow.

Onni called over his shoulder, "Detour. Roadworks."

"Wow, what a surprise," Sigrun drawled. "When do we not have roadworks on this stretch?"

Emil laughed, "Oh, I know! Remember the year they finished the roadworks just before a double apogee? Three days, it was beautiful. Three whole days!" He stood up and started making his way back to the bunk area, thinking to follow Mikkel's lead and do his ablutions for bed.

"Right, I remember that! Then double apogee and a meteor strike and that was it! Crrrrunchkeeee!" Sigrun mimed the road cracking and buckling with the extra tidal force exerted by the two moons before throwing both arms thrashing into the air. The vehicle lurched again. Sigrun grabbed the chin-up bar quickly and called out, "Hey, uh, Shiny Arms? How much of a detour are we talking about?" She waved away Lalli's quizzical look and gestured at Onni. "Not you, I meant the other Shiny Arms... him."

Onni snorted but answered her, "Not long. She's charting a better path to rejoin the main road." Emil could only just hear him mutter under his breath, "Shiny Arms. Hmph."

"You know, though," Emil jumped, startled at Sigrun's voice, pitched low and right next to him, "that double apogee and meteor strike was quite a few years ago." Emil leaned away from her; she was uncomfortably close. Even with her chin tucked down so she could eyeball Emil, she was still considerably taller, "you had to be a little 'un then, too young to be driving back and forth yourself, right?"

"Yeah? So?" He answered her at the same low pitch, not meeting her stare.

"So lemme ask you... Have you been Outside since the hot spring closed down?"

Emil scoffed, "What? You knew about that, huh?" She gave him a slow blink. "Well, yeah sure, I've been with the Pyros for a couple of years now! Of course! Duh! A lot!" He hoped he sounded convincing. Her raised eyebrow indicated otherwise.

"Mm-hm." She backed off. "Not ideal, I can work with it. But, you are going to have to do, as I say, like your life depends on it. Hai?" She stretched, partially hanging from the guide rail as the vehicle pitched and lurched.

Emil swallowed. He could hear her unspoken exit line, because your life will depend on it.

His throat went dry as he realised she must have actually read his file, complete with incident reports and his superiors' notes. Not my fault. It was not my fault. He felt his face go hot at the memory. But she's willing to have me along anyway? Why?

Lalli slid down the wall again to sit on the floor, prompting a fresh panic in Emil. If she knows, does that mean they all know?

Chapter Text

Dejected, Emil pulled his toiletries bag out of his duffel. Mikkel was still in the toilet cubicle, so Emil took his bag back to the front of the vehicle and sat on his original seat. Lalli was still sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest. As Emil sat down next to him, Lalli put his forehead onto his knees.

Fine, Emil sighed, you don't talk. He took out his comms unit and checked the signal strength. I don't know what I was expecting, the cyborgs never talk to anybody but the captain. And each other, of course.

The comms signal was usually good enough at least to Palm Grove, so Emil thought he should be able to catch up on some of his message circles. A few minutes later he put the unit away with a sigh; the circles had no new messages. At least, no new messages that weren't from Emil himself. Most of the members of his circles had used their connections to take jobs off-planet as soon as they could legally do so. They'd relay a post back via others in the circle about their great new lives on their lovely new planets or ships, before they dropped out of the circle entirely. He hadn't gone on to the academies as they had, had ended up taking single quarters in the city, and taking a posting with the military to pay for the exorbitant rent on a single. So far as Emil could tell, he was the only one left of his circles in the main district.

"Onni? Your name is Onni, right?" The cyborg in the pilot interface turned his head slightly but did not answer. Panel lights reflected off the VR goggles. Undeterred, Emil got up and walked to the front, skirting past Lalli's feet. "Have you ever been off-planet?," he asked Onni. As he passed, Lalli raised his head and watched him go by.

Onni turned his head briefly to look back before turning back to the interface. "Hm."

Emil picked up his comms unit out of his pocket again. "Okay, never mind. I'll just double-check the mission documents. Thank you, though." Onni showed no response. Lalli put his head back onto his knees as Emil sat down.

Browsing through people's photos and stupid jokes was easy and made the time go faster, but he had to go through the equipment list sooner or later. As he scanned the list, Emil was dismayed that they seemed to be missing basic items. He struggled to remember where he could find a good list of what he should have, but eventually found some information in the 'Pyro' unit's database. Even though the official list was several years out of date, the comparison with the mission requisition list was still not good.

The rough track made the reading challenging and Emil put the unit down after a second pass through the list, highlighting several items that were crucial. He made a surreptitious scan of the cabin to see what he could use if nausea truly took hold, just in case. He didn't usually have difficulties, but he also generally couldn't push it to do console work. That last burger was nice, but I don't want to experience it again, he thought, suppressing a small belch.

Remembering the dining hall, he looked down to see what Lalli was up to, but he wasn't there. The cyborg had curled up under the co-driver's panel, on the floor next to Onni's station. Onni had brought up the road, weather and topographic maps for the route across the co-driver's readout screens, but Emil knew they were mostly for the passengers' benefit; the vehicles were largely self-driven once programmed, even on rough terrain. Onni stayed strapped in to the driver's module with the VR goggles on, but he'd leaned the seat back to rest. His head rolled loosely from side to side even as the vehicle lurched; Emil reckoned he might even be asleep.

Sigrun looked up from her own comms unit and as though reading Emil's mind commented, "The vehicle's got us for now. You'd wanna rest, I'd think." Emil nodded and gestured with his toiletries bag toward the back cubicle. The captain joked, "You going to fix your hair for the night so it looks fresh in the morning?"

Emil brushed back his fringe and shot back, "Sure, if that's what you do to get that perfect flip on yours, I can try that."

Sigrun chuckled, "Ha! I'm lucky, it just does this, so I let it." She put her comms unit on her lap and ruffled her hair, then shook her head briefly to show the hair falling back in place without further assistance.

"Nice," Emil laughed. "I tried to convince the gate goons that I had hair product in my bag, but maybe they saw you and knew we wouldn't need it."

"Hai, maybe," Sigrun threw her head back and swished her hair around for effect. "Yeah, nah, I've seen those guys before. They saw me and suddenly had these urgent manifests to check and comms calls to make. It's not my hair that impressed them, I reckon it was the memory of my fists." Sigrun glanced back toward the bunks and the occupied toilet. "Although my fists will only go so far if we meet up with any whizzers Out There. D'you have had a look at the kaboom list?"

Emil nodded, "Yeah." He gestured with the comms unit and blew out a sigh, thinking about the large flying creatures that could sometimes be encountered near ravines. "With what we have on board now? Nothing ranged. If we do get a whizzer, we're," he shrugged, "we're going to have to hope we can hide in here."

Hopefully the Big Burger Unit, whatever his name was, currently taking up the toilet enclosure, had enough contacts to get some adequate firepower. His finger moved to the Reclamation Officer's profile. Mikkel Henrik Madsen. Emil knew The Company usually had fake dossiers for all of their personnel, including the cyborgs, but it was puzzling that they hadn't bothered to load one for Mikkel. The man's photo was there, but there was no further data on that screen, simply a link marked 'Assignment'. Emil's finger hovered for a moment before he decided to chance the link.

"What do you want to know?"

Emil almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of the rumbling voice, hastily turning off the screen on the comms device and putting it face-down on his thigh. Mikkel was looming over him; Emil hadn't noticed the man come out of the toilet cubicle and walk right up next to him. His massive sideburns were wet and he smelled of the standard-issue body cleanser.

"Oh, just double-checking the mission documents. Triple-checking, really, ha ha!" Emil hoped he didn't sound guilty. He knew he did.

Mikkel nodded once. "Hm, yes." Gesturing at Emil's toiletries bag on his lap, he deadpanned, "the toilet is free if you were waiting."

Emil leapt up from his seat, inadvertently dumping the comms device and bag onto the floor, but the cubicle door closed behind Sigrun and her hoot of "tooooo sloooww." Emil bent down to pick up his items from the floor while avoiding the large bare feet of Mikkel, who hadn't moved. Lalli nudged the comms device closer to Emil with his foot but kept his eyes downcast and his forehead on his knees.

Sigrun popped her head out of the toilet cubicle just long enough to yell, "Hai, Mikkel, what did you eat, anyway? Slug-burgers?!" She made gagging noises but re-entered the cubicle anyway.

Mikkel chuckled, then looked down at Emil, who had sagged back into his seat. "You ever try eating one, hm?"

Emil shook his head with a grimace. The 'slugs' were not common, only found in the rare warm environments, but Emil had seen them from time to time growing up at the hot springs. They were a larval form who extruded a small shell to affix themselves to the undersides of rock shelves in thermal areas. People would eat the slugs as a delicacy, or at least have them served on their iridescent shells as a status symbol or macho challenge. His mother had known how to prepare them for their more elite guests, sending her staff into the underground passages to look for them. The adult form of the creature was enormous, with a multibranched mouth capable of creating tunnels through thick muck and softer rock – or hapless humanoids who didn't get out of the way in time. The staff drew lots, loser had to try to get the slugs.

"Hm," Mikkel rumbled, "surprising. Boy of your refined tastes." He moved away toward the bunk area, leaving damp footprints in his wake.

Emil realised he'd been holding his breath. What was that supposed to mean, 'boy of my refined tastes'? As he let his breath out slowly, and hefted the comms unit again, he didn't notice Lalli peering at him from the floor under the console.