Valiant

[Valiant #25: Ember]

Log Date: 2/23/12764

Data Sources: Kiwi, Feroce Acceso, Luci

Event Log: Kiwi

The Cradle: Sector 2 Inner Ring Access Bridge

4:59pm SGT

“Alright, that should be everyone!” Tarocco hisses to me as Cahriu limps out from the shadow of the falling bridge. “He needs to get out from under there before it’s too late!”

“Songbird!” I shout. “Everyone’s out, get your stupid hero ass out of there!”

He looks up when I shout his name, and I can see the twin stars in his eyes, hot blue and steady bright. But the rest of his body is shaking, and in that instant I realize the amount of strain he must be under, holding up hundreds of thousands of tons of crumbling bridge. And when his shoulders slump, I realize that now that everyone’s safe, he no longer has the strength to keep holding it up.

The Spark in his eyes winks out, and the bridge collapses.

I sprint towards him as the rest of the wreckage starts to fall, but Blockchain moves before I do, lurching forward with startling speed. He lets go of the anchor chain, swinging both of his arms forward to hook under the slab of bridge that’s about to crush Songbird. The end of it still hits the ground, but it hangs at a slant, the other end held up by Blockchain’s arms, creaking and groaning underneath the weight. I don’t even speak, pelting into the dust and going into a slide underneath the slab, flaring my wristmarks to life as I do so.

Even by the green glow, it’s hard to see anything in the dust. I feel along the ground, moving in the direction I last saw Songbird; I have to move for several yards like this before my hands wander over one of his arms. Grabbing it, I set my heels to the ground and start pushing backwards, scooting back the way I came, foot by agonizing foot until we emerge from underneath the slab again. Cahriu and Midnatt are there, grabbing Songbird and helping me pull him across the ground, and once he’s clear, Blockchain lets the slab drop, slamming to the ground with a crushing thud.

“Is he okay?” Ridge says, rushing over and kneeling next to us, with Renchiko close behind. “There’s still a hole in his chest! Is he alive?”

“He’s a vampire; he will be fine.” Valkyrie says, rolling him over. “His body is intact; it just needs blood to reconstitute. I don’t know how much he still has in his system, though. Sierra, do you have any you can spare?”

“Yeah, I’ve always got my flask with me.” she says, coming over and lifting her arms. “Inside pocket in my jacket. Someone else will have to grab it; I can’t reach it with my hands cuffed like this.”

“Same; these are really getting in the way.” Valkyrie says, before her eyes fall on me. “Kiwi, can you grab Sierra’s flask, then start getting cuffs off people? You’re the only with your hands free at the moment.”

I look up from where I’d been wiping the dust off Songbird’s cold face. He’s pale and unconscious; I don’t want to leave him right now. All I want to do is hold him close and breathe, watch the wound in his chest slowly heal and stay by him until he wakes up.

“I can free you from your cuffs.” At the voice, we turn to see the air shimmering to reveal Sol, padding towards us on all fours. She reaches into her cloak, pulling out what looks like a keycard. “I have been following the column. I stole some things from one of their higher officers while they were distracted during the battle.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Cahriu sighs as Sol starts unlocking everyone’s cuffs. “This’ll make things much easier.”

“We are still not in a good position.” Tarocco says, rubbing her wrists as her cuffs come off. “Dussel still has the command key, the way to the hangar is blocked by this collapsed bridge, we have no equipment or manpower now that Dussel has betrayed us, and CURSE is going to be regrouping and coming back for us eventually. We need to figure out what we’re gonna do.”

“It’ll be fine if we can get Songbird awake and send him after them.” Sierra says, pulling out her flask once she’s uncuffed. “And Luci is on the loose, and can manifest practically anywhere on the Accatria. If he needs to, he can sabotage it to keep it from leaving without us.”

“How did he do that? He kept the entire bridge from falling!” Ridge says, watching as Sierra rips the hole in Songbird’s shirt open, then starts carefully pouring blood around it. You can see the organs and muscle slowly starting to regrow, and even though it’s agonizingly slow, it’s still fast if you consider that it’d normally take weeks or months for something like this to heal.

“He’s got a Spark.” Valkyrie says, checking over the rest of Songbird. “They’re very rare, and hard to control, but when they go active, they are extremely powerful. Jack has one too, but hers usually registers as prescience, strength or speed.”

“Well geez, why didn’t he use it earlier?” Ridge asks, rubbing his wrists once they’re uncuffed. “Would’ve been pretty useful when they ambushed us in the reactor tower!”

“He probably can’t control it, and he didn’t want to put you and Renchiko at risk.” Valkyrie says, getting her teeth into the hem of her labcoat and starting to rip it as she moves over to Renchiko. Tearing a strip off, she starts to tie off some of the gashes that Renchiko is bleeding from. “And speaking of risk, what you did was reckless and could’ve gotten people killed, Kiwi. I understand you were frustrated, but you should not have endangered everyone’s lives like that. The way you attacked the column injured some of us almost as much as it injured the CURSE operatives.”

“I did what I had to. It got us free; that’s all that matters.” I retort as I stand up, somewhat shakily. Now that I know Songbird’s going to be sorta okay, I turn to Blockchain, who’s been watching us silently. “So you’re on our side now, then?”

His domed head swivels to stare at me. The red eyes in the visual display are no longer downtilted, showing an absence of aggression. But it’s hard to tell what’s going through that rusty head when he never says anything.

“Hey big guy, can you guard the bridge and make sure nobody comes over?” Cahriu asks Blockchain. “Or like. At least warn us? I’d get it if you didn’t want to fight them.”

Blockchain’s head swivels towards Cahriu. After a moment, he starts to turn around, lumbering in place until he’s facing back towards the collapsed bridge, and picks up the anchor chain of his flail again.

“Guess that’s a yes.” Tarocco says, then turns to look around at our group. “Right, so what’s the plan? We need to figure out what we’re going to do. We can’t just sit around here.”

“Our highest priority is securing the Challenger archive.” Valkyrie says as she finishes tying off Renchiko’s wounds, then moves towards Ridge. “That’s still aboard the Accatria. We cannot afford to let the ship leave with it. If it falls into the wrong hands, that will be the end of the Valiant Project.”

“We also need to get back the command key for the Cradle, which Dussel has.” I point out. “So Dussel and the Accatria are our main targets.”

“Yeah, but they’re literally miles away.” Cahriu points out. “If CURSE doesn’t come over that bridge and come at us, it means they’re going back to the hangar. They’ve got a head start on us, it’s like eight miles from here to the hangar, and we still have to get out of this canyon and back to the city surface. There’s no way we’re gonna get there before they do.”

“If they’re moving with wounded, they will not be moving quickly, unless they leave their wounded behind.” Valkyrie says while checking Ridge over. “We may still be able to catch up with them if we send a small group of our most capable. But they will have to move fast, and they will be severely outnumbered if they catch up to CURSE. It will be a difficult fight for whoever we send.”

“We only need to send one person.” Sierra says as she pours the last of her flask of blood on Songbird, then caps it and tucks it in her jacket. Immediately afterwards, she gives Songbird a full-on slap to the face. “Hey! Mopey bastard! Wake up, I just gave you the last of my really expensive Calyri pureblood!”

“Whoa, hey!” I protest, moving back towards him. “Just shake him awake, you don’t need to slap him shitless!”

“I don’t need to,” Sierra agrees. “but I want to.” A moment later, Songbird’s eyes flicker open, and coughs out a puff of dust as he starts coming around.

Sinking to my knees beside him, I rest a hand on his chest as he looks around, trying to get his bearings. “How are you feeling?” I ask, studying the hole in his chest. It’s started to close up; I can still see damage inside, but I’m pretty sure that will heal as well, given enough time.

“Like someone took a sledgehammer to my head.” he groans. “So I’m not dead?”

“Not for lack of trying.” I grunt. “You almost let the bridge drop on yourself once everyone was out.”

“The Spark only gave me enough to do what I needed to do.” he coughs, reaching up to clasp his hands around his head as he squeezes his eyes shut. That headache must be pretty intense. “Did you get me out?”

“Yes, but Blockchain helped.” I say, reaching down to slide my hands under his, flicking runes for cold out of my rune circles, and pressing my thumbs to his temples the same way I did on Hale’ohe. “He caught the slab of bridge that was about to fall on you, and held it up long enough for me to get you out.”

“I told you he was a good person.” he sighs, his hands relaxing as I massage his temples.

“Yes, yes, this is all very touching, but we’ve got bigger things to worry about.” Sierra cuts in. “Dussel has the command key, and the Challenger archive is still aboard the Accatria. We can’t let the Dussel mercs leave, or we lose both of those, and that’s the end of the Valiant Project. And CURSE is between us and the hangar, so we need someone to fight through them, get to the hangar, take down Dussel, and keep the Accatria from leaving. Hint hint.”

“Give him a moment, would you?” I say, glaring at her. “He just saved everyone from getting crushed to death. Let him breathe for a bit before you start piling more stuff on him.”

“We don’t have a moment.” Valkyrie says over her shoulder. “Every second counts. If we don’t stop Dussel from leaving the Cradle, it’ll all have been for nothing.”

“Wait, what’s going on with Dussel?” Songbird asks, confused.

“He’s got the command key, and the Challenger archive is on the Accatria.” I explain. “If the Accatria leaves, we lose both of them.”

“And that’s probably what he’s doing right now: heading back to the hangar with CURSE.” Sierra says. “Luci can help sabotage the Accatria if needed, but we can’t put all our eggs in one basket. You’re the only one that can square up against multiple Peacekeepers and come out on top. You can’t hide from this any—”

“I know.” he grunts before she can finish. He starts to push himself up on his arms, opening his eyes as he does so. “I’ll go.”

“Wait, really?” Sierra says, looking surprised. “You’re actually going to do it?”

“Not because you asked.” he says, sitting up and looking at me. “Because Kiwi made a good point about why I should use what I’ve been given.”

I can feel my face heat up a little, but I fight it down and stay focused. “Are you sure you can do this?” I ask him. “You still haven’t fully healed yet.”

“I can heal on the go.” he says, reaching into one of the sleeves of his longcoat. Fumbling around in the inside of the cuff, he pulls out a pair of glossy Crescendo earbuds that look like they have a custom design and fit. “The rest of you stay here. I’ll take care of this.”

“No. We’re gonna come with you.” Renchiko says, scrambling to her feet. “We can help. And you’ll need backup if things don’t go the way they’re supposed to.”

“Not for this.” he says, wincing as he struggles to his feet. “This one’s solo, little sister. If this was a different kind of fight, I’d bring you along. But I need to do this one alone.”

“You don’t really think we’re going to let you go alone, do you?” I ask, standing as well. “Not after that… talk we had.”

He reaches up, cupping his hands around the back of my neck as he leans forward, resting his forehead against mine. “You were angry at me for not fighting as hard as you do. Let me fix that. You let me have a peek into your soul; now it’s my turn to hold up my end of the deal.”

I frown. “When I said I wanted you to fight harder, I didn’t mean that I wanted you to fight alone.” I say, bumping my head against his. “I want you to fight harder. Beside me, not in front of me.”

“In the future. But not today.” he says. “Today I need to do this alone. It’ll be the first time I’ve gotten amped in a long time; I’m going to be rediscovering something I buried years ago.” His ruby eyes search me. “Once I remember what I am, I’ll share it with you. But I need to relearn what I am first. Okay?”

I huff at him. “Fine. Don’t expect me to kiss those dusty lips of yours, though.”

He smiles. “You might be waiting a while. We’ve still got a lot of ass to kick before we can hit the showers on the Accatria.”

I bite my lip. “Gods, you’re hot when you say stupid shit so confidently.” I grab the edges of his battered coat, pulling him in to kiss him anyway, then push him away a couple seconds later. “Go on. Get out of here. We’ll catch up with you. You better have everything taken care of by the time we get there.”

“No promises.” he says, putting his earbuds in, then raising a hand to point at Blockchain, who’s been watching. “I knew you had it in you, big guy. Welcome to the Valiant Project.”

Blockchain gives him a single nod, which takes the form of a slightly lean forward and back again. Reaching up, Songbird taps one of his earbuds twice, and a night-black cloud swirls over the sclera of his eyes, while his irises morph over to a solar-blue hue. His outline starts to glow, leaving behind a neon afterimage as he turns and begins skating away through the canyon, his boots riding on that same neon light.

“The hell?” Ridge exclaims after a moment. “Since when could he do that?”

“Songbird hides a lot of the shit he can do.” Sierra says. “It’s kinda his thing.”

“You’re not actually going to let him go alone, are you?” Tarocco asks me as Songbird starts to get smaller with distance.

“Of course not.” I say, wiping some dust off my lips, and looking to Sol. “Do you know how to get to where CURSE is going?”

“Yes. If you will follow me, I can show you a faster way.” she says. “If we move quickly, we may get there at the same time he does, given how quickly he’s moving.”

“We’ll be back, then.” I say, looking to the others. “Cahriu, you stay here with Valkyrie and Blockchain, and help guard the kids. The rest of us will make sure Songbird’s got the support he needs to make it all the way to the hangar.” Looking back down Sol, I give her a nod. “Lead the way.”

“As you request.” she says, both her and Midnatt dropping to all fours and starting to lope away. Taking a deep breath, I start to jog after them, with Tarocco and Sierra following behind me.

With luck, we’d be able to pay CURSE back for the ambush they hit us with earlier.

Event Log: Lucanthiline

M.V. Accatria: Engineering Deck

5:07pm SGT

I’m not a soldier.

If that hasn’t been made abundantly clear by this point, I figure I’d make it clear now. I’m not someone that fights — I’m a messenger, an errand boy, a spy, a sneak. Sometimes I’ll do ambushes, or breakouts, like I did for Songbird when he got arrested on Shinobe Kibe. But those are exceptions to the rule, and the rule is that I don’t fight.

Which is why I’d really rather be anywhere than here right now.

And if I’m being honest? I did go anywhere but here when CURSE first busted into the reactor tower. I’d run behind a console where no one could see me, and let myself flicker out of existence and manifest in the pantry of a nice cafe on Sybione that I frequently raid for goodies and sweets. Less than a second was all it took for me to be halfway across the galaxy and well out of danger’s reach.

And I stayed there for a good ten minutes. But eventually, my guilt got the better of me, about halfway through a slice of salted caramel cheesecake. So I tried to come back — only to find that I couldn’t. Everywhere I’d been in the reactor tower was observed space, and I couldn’t manifest in spaces that were being actively observed. So I waited until I finished my slice of cheesecake, and tried again, to no avail.

So, since I couldn’t return to the reactor tower, I settled on the next best thing: the Accatria.

It was easy to manifest there; I’d spent months on that ship, and I’d had plenty of time to go snooping through its nooks and crannies. Plus, tight, enclosed spaces like what you find on a military ship are much different than an open floor plan, like the one in the reactor tower. It’s easy to constantly observe an open floor plan with just a few people, but a ship with countless rooms and compartments is much harder to monitor. Practically impossible, really.

So I manifested in Sierra’s room, and decided to start from there. Originally, the plan was to find Jackrabbit, get backup, and figure out what was going on. I found out the hard way that there was a kill squad roaming the ship, looking for me.

One death and fifteen minutes later, I remanifested in Sierra’s room, thoroughly disgruntled about being killed for the first time in months. Even if quantum uncertainty kept me from ever really dying for good, nobody liked the experience of dying. Getting gunned down in a hail of coilgun spikes was, as the kids liked to say, ‘painful’.

Obviously there was a change of approach required, hence why I was now sneaking through the engineering deck as quietly as I could. Considering I’d gotten killed by the mercs on the Accatria, it wasn’t just Dussel; it looked like the whole mercforce was in on the traitor gig. Since I was separated from the others and I had no one to go to for backup or orders, I figured I’d do the only thing I could at this point: make problems and keep the mercs busy.

Unfortunately, it seems like the mercs were expecting that.

“Whoa whoa whoa! Hey, hey, don’t shoot!” I squeak, putting my hands up as I backpedal down the corridor leading to the fusion core. A couple of mercs on patrol down in the engineering deck caught me, and currently have their rifles leveled at me.

“Wotcha doin’ down here, kitty?” one of them drawls.

“Thought you’d get in the fusion core and make a big mess, did you?” the other says.

“No, no!” I say quickly, my ears laying back. “I was just, uhm, looking for the Lieutenant Commander…”

The first one snorts. “Oh really? And what would that smug one-eyed bikini bitch be doing down here in engineering? She don’t get her hands dirty with grunt work.”

“Um… inspection?” I suggest weakly.

“You’re a shit liar, furball.” the second one says.

“Oh good, you got him.” A voice behind me has me turning around, and my heart drops when I see that it’s Tony, marching down the hall.

“Yeah, we followed your orders and didn’t shoot.” the first merc says.

“It was tempting, though.” the second one adds.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t.” Tony says, pulling a stunner out of her officer jacket and starting to charge it up. “If you kill a schrödinger and take your eyes off them, they’ll remanifest elsewhere. Clearly the squads on the other decks didn’t get the memo.” She comes to a stop a few yards from me, adjusting the intensity setting on the stunner. “If you stun them, though, they can’t go anywhere because they’re not conscious to do so.”

“Tony, no…” I groan. “Not you too…”

Tony’s pale blue eyes flick to me. “This is how mercenaries roll, Luci. You know that.”

With that, she raises the stunner. I jerk my arms up to shield my face, flinching when I hear two stunner discharges. But nothing hits me, and instead, I hear bodies crumpling behind me; lowering my arms, I look behind me to see both of mercs have been stunned.

“Luckily for you, I’m not a mercenary.” Tony says, lowering her stunner.

I look back to her, then to the mercs, then back to her, open my mouth, fumble for words, and then point back towards the mercs. “…I’m confused.” I say after a long moment.

“Duly noted.” she says, holstering her stunner. “Follow me. We need to get to the server room and plug Legaci back in.”

“Okay, now I’m even more confused.” I say, hurrying to keep up with her as she starts back the way she came. “What’s going on? Like… not that I’m complaining, but why are you disobeying Dussel’s orders?”

“My purpose for being here is not the paycheck, unlike the vast majority of the merforce.” Tony answers, straight and to the point, and yet somehow also cryptic. “What is important is that we ensure the survival of the Valiant Project. I assume you are willing to help me with that?”

“I mean yeah, totally, but I’m still confused!” I exclaim. “If you’re not here for the paycheck, what are you here for?”

“That’s something that can be discussed later, once we have secured the important objectives.” Tony says, pulling a set of cuffs off her beltline and handing them to me. “Here, put these on and pretend to look defeated and submissive. Considering your ample engagement with the Lieutenant Commander, it should come naturally to you.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Once we secure Legaci, we will free Jackrabbit while Legaci is assuming control of the Accatria.” Tony says, ignoring my demand as we step into one of the elevators. “We will secure the Challenger archive after that, and then we will to put ourselves in a position that allows us to threaten CURSE’s interdictor, which is parked at the quay next to us. Though I do not want to destroy the ship — it could be a great asset if we captured it — I don’t believe we have the manpower needed to storm it. Disabling it, destroying it, or forcing it to leave are more likely possibilities.”

“Jeez.” I say, folding the cuffs around my hands as the elevator doors close. “You got a whole checklist of shit to do, don’t you.”

“I want the Accatria to be firmly under our control by the time the Commander returns. Turning the tables on CURSE is not going to be easy.” She looks to me at this point. “I can count on you to help make this a reality, right?”

“Yeah. Totally.” I say, then hold up the cuffs. “But seriously. Defeated and submissive?”

“The Lieutenant Commander said it was a good look for you, and though I hate to admit it, I think she’s right.”

“Unbelievable…”

Event Log: Rewind: 18 years ago

Caesaestas System

Border World: Anraim

Outpost Vigilance 229

“Move move move, we’ve got injured coming through!”

Echo can hear the shouts up ahead, and as he skids around the corner in the outpost’s subterranean level. Up ahead, he can see a pair of Marshy soldiers helping each other to the infirmary, where Valkyrie is struggling to tend to the influx of injured soldiers. Reaching the two soldiers, he grabs both of them by the shoulders, pointing to one of the adjacent halls as 5377 skids into the hall behind them, trying to catch up to his mentor. “That way! To the rear exit! We can’t stay here; we’ll tend wounds once we’re on the transport!”

Valkyrie’s head snaps up at that, looking away from the soldier with the crushed leg that she’s tending to. “What’s that, Echo? Is something happening?”

“The Collective are closing in; we need to pack up and get out!” Echo orders, sprinting into the infirmary proper and looking around, trying to assess everything that would need to happen to clear out the room. “The front gate’s not going to hold for much longer, and Collective air support has been spotted on approach. We need to get everyone out to the landing pads. 5377, help me start moving people.”

“On it, sir!” 5377 says, starting towards the rows of occupied beds.

“We can’t just move these people out to the landing pads, Echo!” Valkyrie snaps. “Some of them are in critical condition and need immediate care!”

“There are going to be Collective soldiers in these halls in the next five minutes, Valkyrie!” Echo retorts, starting to help an injured soldier off a bed. “If we don’t move them now, they’ll be assimilated! We need to have them out on the landing pad so they can be loading into the transport the moment the ramp hits the ground!”

There’s a crash out in the hall, and both Challengers look to see Gossamer sliding down one of the ladders from the upper floors before stumbling into the infirmary, hacking and wheezing and covered a thin coat of green-blue dust. “They just spore-bombed the outpost! Val, I need a booster right the hell now; my last spore vaccination was ten months ago and I just got a faceful of this shit!”

“Jesu christi, stay where you are! We’ve got open wounds in here, don’t bring that shit in here!” Valkyrie snaps at her. “Nurse, booster shot for the Challenger, make it quick!”

“Gossamer, help organize a retreat to the landing pads once you get your booster.” Echo orders as he continues helping the injured soldier to the door. “Val, me and 5377 will help you get patients out to the landing pad. Have the nurses start transferring the ones that can’t move to gurneys.”

“Dammit, Echo! What do I look like, a miracle worker?” Valkyrie growls, then turns to shout to the rest of the infirmary. “You heard him, people! Start packing up! Non-ambi on gurneys! Everyone that can walk, get on your feet and start walking! Make it snappy unless you wanna stay behind and get assimilated!”

Echo’s almost to the door with his soldier when another one staggers around the corner in the hall, grabbing at his gas mask and yanking it off. “Echo! Challengers! The gate’s been melted! The Collective are in the outpost now; they’re rushing the tower and they’ve brought gravug beetles with them! The rest of the battalion is pulling back to the watchtower, but we’re getting mauled! If we don’t organize a defense, they’re going to be in the watchtower in two minutes!”

“Shit.” Echo hisses, then looks to the side when he sees 5377 activating the helm on his power armor. As it folds around his head and seals shut, the young Challenger sets down the soldier he had been carrying and sprints down the hall, turning the corner and heading back the way the gas-masked soldier came from. “5377! Where are you— Dammit! You can’t hold them on your own!… dammit!”

Not having time to chase after him, Echo wheels on the gas-masked soldier. “Get back to the perimeter, have everyone retreat the watchtower. Hold the doors so we can finish evacuating everyone to the landing pads. If they breach the building, maintain a controlled retreat to the landing pads.” Looking around, Echo searches the tumultuous infirmary. “Gossamer, are you—”

“I’m good now.” Gossamer grunts, securing an upper arm plate where she got her booster. Pushing out into the hall, she heads down one of the adjacent halls leading to the rear exit. “I’ll organize a defensive perimeter out on the landing pads; we’re going to be like sitting ducks out there if the transport doesn’t get here soon.”

“The Horizon Breaker knows we need support; they said they’ll be sending Nova down as soon as they can.” Echo says, following after her with the injured soldier over his shoulder. “She can’t leave low orbit until some of the bigger Collective ships have been pushed off. The Horizon Breaker’s good, but there’s too many Collective ships in orbit, and she’s a mech carrier, not a battleship.”

“As soon as they can is not soon enough.” Gossamer snaps over her shoulder. “The infirmary is not gonna be empty that fast. The Collective are bugrushing the outpost; we’ll be lucky if we can keep them out of the watchtower for more than five minutes. If one of the gravug beetles makes it to the watchtower, that’s it, it’s over. They don’t need doors to get inside when they can vomit acid on the walls and get in through the holes.”

“We need to try.” Echo growls. “We have to hold out, and we have to give Nova time to clear the sky. There’s no point in loading up the transport if the Horizon Breaker is destroyed when we get back up there.”

“I’m sure the Collective will be courteous and wait patiently for our ace in the hole to come down from the stars.” Gossamer replies sarcastically, racking her railgun as they emerge from the rear of the watchtower, and out into the wide landing field beyond. “Alright, you Marshy eggheads! Get your tails in gear! I need groups of three; we need entrenched positions around the central landing pad! If the Collective get inside the perimeter, we’re all screwed! If any of you have area denial, step right up, you just became our most valuable asset—”

Over the next few minutes, Echo helps the medical staff with moving the injured out of the infirmary and out to the landing pad. The sound of plasma fire, artillery shelling, and shouting is prevalent throughout it all and growing closer with every second; elements of the Marshy defense battalion are quickly arriving around the edges of the watchtower and streaming towards the landing field. It’s on his third run back out to the landing field, this time pulling a gurney with a wounded soldier on it, that one of the heavily armored Challenger troop transports descends on the central landing pad, its thrusters kicking up strong winds as it swings around, the rear ramp lowering before it’s even landed. The battalion rushes to start loading the injured into the transport, while those on the perimeter lay down suppressing fire on the Collective soldiers that are starting to stream around the edges of the watchtower building.

“Echo, call it! We need to go!” Gossamer shouts as she loads another railgun spike and starts charging her rifle. Across the field, Collective juggernauts are starting to charge the perimeter, their thick biomass armor absorbing most of the plasma bolts being directed at them. “We can’t hold; we are outnumbered! Get Valkyrie out of the watchtower and let’s go!”

“I’m already here!” The shout comes from the rear of the watchtower building, where Valkyrie’s pulling a last gurney behind her, pistol in her free hand, firing at any Collective Symbiote that gets too close.

“Cover her! Ensure she makes it to the perimeter!” he shouts to the Marshy soldiers holding the line. Looking around, Echo checks to make sure that evacuation to the transport is still proceeding smoothly, then realizes something. “Where’s 5377?”

At that moment, an explosion rocks the front of the watchtower. Rubble and debris go flying through the air as the ground shudders; looking up, Echo can see a portion of the watchtower starting to cave into itself. The front part in particular — the portion of the building that 5377 had gone to defend.

Breaking from the perimeter, Echo pelts across the landing field, ignoring the Collective soldiers as he sprints back towards the watchtower. Gossamer and Valkyrie’s shouts go unheeded as he activates the boosters on his power armor, clearing the edge of the watchtower’s first-floor roof in a single jump; the moment he lands, there’s another explosion, this one shaking the building, but not directed at it. As he takes off along the roof, his worry grows; 5377 had proven proficient with firearms and close combat, and resourceful in tight situations, but there was a point at which skill didn’t matter against the sheer numbers of Collective. And if the Collective were deploying artillery against the outpost, 5377 was in danger. Power armor could only protect you from so much.

Another explosion shakes the watchtower building, and Echo nearly looses his footing. Skidding across the rooftop gravel, he steadies himself and goes into another booster-assisted jump up to the second-story roof; he doesn’t quite clear it this time. His shin catches the ledge, and sends him sprawling across the roof of the second floor; as he struggles back to his feet, another building-shaking blast nearly throws him flat again. Gritting his teeth behind his helm, he couldn’t help but shake his head in disbelief; he knew the Collective had far less concern for their footsoldiers than any other nation, but shelling this close to their own forces and risking killing their own people, all for the sake of claiming this frontier outpost, was reckless even by the Collective’s standards.

Turning on his movement-assist thrusters, Echo launches himself forward again, practically flying over the roof, with only brief touches against the rooftop to control his direction. As he goes, he flips through his comms channels in his helm, skimming past the chaotic chatter on the other channels, shouting 5377’s name and straining to hear any response. He and Ratchet had spent too much time, had poured too much knowledge and talent into this Challenger, to let him die a martyr’s death at the hands of the Collective.

As Echo comes up on the front of the watchtower building, there’s another explosion, this one violent and blue, and more like an aural shockwave than a chemical blast. Echo’s HUD flickers, his directional thrusters going on the fritz; he staggers as he hits the rooftop again, struggling to catch his balance. Sliding to a halt on the destroyed edge of the watchtower’s front section, Echo’s breath catches in his throat.

The front portion of the watchtower has been reduced to ruins and rubble. Among it are battered and broken bodies, most of them belonging to Collective soldiers; even the heavy, tanky juggernauts have been brutalized. The remains of van-sized gravug beetles are shoved up against the edges of a wide scorch radius, their shells cracked and shattered; a Collective wasp jet looks to have been shot down, crashed in another portion of the watchtower that’s now burning. Standing in the center of the massive blast mark in all this carnage is a single soldier, the last filaments of sapphire energy fading from the grooves in their power armor.

As Echo’s HUD stabilizes, he searches his contacts, locating 5377’s and opening a direct channel with him. The first thing he hears is the last strains of music; concerned, Echo leans forward, unsure of what he’s looking at. “5377?” he ventures with both caution and concern.

The soldier down below twitches, then turns, his helm disengaging and folding back as he does so. In an instant, Echo can tell it’s 5377, yet all the same, he takes a step back, because he does not recognize the eyes behind the regressed visor.

Solar-blue irises, manic with unbridled power, embedded in sclera black as night.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Cradle: Edge of Sector 2

5:37pm SGT

For some people, the magic is genetic, encoded into their DNA.

For some, it’s cultural, carried in traditions, passed down through countless generations.

For others, it’s divine or demonic, coming from powers beyond the realm we live in.

I’ve even heard of those that draw their magic from force of will alone.

But regardless of who you are or how you use it, all magic has to have a source. Something needs to power it.

For me, that source is music.

It’s been that way since I was a child. Music made me strong, gave me confidence. It was a bridge to different versions of myself, to the versions of myself that I wanted to be, versions of myself that I couldn’t be with my social inhibitions. Every time I put my earbuds in, I could step into a world of my own, and pretend I was those versions of myself. And as I got older, it got stronger and stronger, until one day, it was no longer pretending to be those versions of myself.

It was becoming them.

It started out small, just little sparks of power from an overspill of emotion, a little bend of reality here and there. But it would grow as the years went on, and especially after I met Cherri. She freed my mind from the stifling dogma I had been raised with, and showed me a different way to see the galaxy and everything within it. With broad new horizons, and so many new things to explore and experience, that power only grew as my musical repertoire expanded, and the years went on. I never made a habit of showing it off when I was in the Challenger program, and had used it less and less in the years since the Songbird Incident — eventually stopping altogether once CURSE caught up with me and forced me into the resettlement agreement. Some part of me was worried that my power would’ve atrophied with the lack of use, and perhaps that’s why I’d avoided using it up until now — I didn’t want to find out I’d become a shadow of myself in the years since.

I shouldn’t have worried. Because skating through these empty streets, gliding on rollerblades of light, with my Blueberry Bubblegum playlist thumping in the background, the truth is clear as day. As obvious as the energy pulsing through my veins, radiating off me like a heatwave, distorting reality around me.

That power has only grown with time and experience.

It’s thrilling, exhilarating. To move like this, to be freed from the hesitation and caution that usually holds me back. I feel luminous, filled with direction and purpose and momentum that can’t be stopped. No fear, and no doubt.

I haven’t slowed down on my trip through the canyons dividing the rings, and even the long stairwell up to the second sector’s surface didn’t halt my momentum. Zooming now through the streets and alleys on my way towards the sector’s main highway, I can sense that I’m going to be coming up on a confrontation soon, and I measure out my gliding strides so that the current song will end right as I’m arriving. There’s something immensely satisfying about that kind of timing, like pulling into a parking spot or stepping through the front door right on the last note of a song.

And when I come hurtling out onto the highway just ahead of the CURSE convoy, I brake hard, skidding to a halt dead center of the road. The song ends the second after, and I reach up, tapping an earbud and pausing the next song in the queue as my skates of light evaporate, dropping me back to solid ground. Before me, the line of personnel carriers and ATVs slams to a halt, with the operatives crewing them scrambling for their weapons.

“It doesn’t have to be this way.” I call out to them, my voice amplified to carry. “Give us back the command key, surrender the Commander to us, and leave the Cradle. Nobody else has to be hurt.”

“Holy shit, how are you still alive?” Onslaught screeches, fumbling to get one of the mounted guns on the top of an APC powered on. “I dropped a bridge on you! What are you, a cockroach?”

“You’re even stupider than I thought.” Gossamer says, slipping out of one of the APCs. “We lost the fight back in the canyon, I’ll admit that, but you had backup there. Picking this fight without anyone to back you up against six Peacekeepers and a platoon of operatives? That one’s a joke for the ages.”

Dussel stays in his ATV, staring hard at me. Out of everyone here, he’s probably the smartest one; the way his fingers curl around the wheel, I know he’s thinking of making a run for it. He knows that I wouldn’t have come all this way, to confront a group this large, if I wasn’t convinced I could win, or at least do some major damage.

“Don’t test me, Dussel.” I call to him. “Not in the mood for it today.”

“All capable operatives to the front. Fan out. Encircle.” The order comes from Nazka, who’s left one of the APCs and is walking to the front of the convoy, his shadow stretching before him and starting to widen. Behind him are Axiom, Whisper, and another young, white-haired operative. The operatives that came to reinforce the platoon are starting to filter towards the front, while the ones driving the vehicles start to park them in positions where they can provide cover.

Guess they aren’t going to surrender, then.

Reaching up, I tap a finger to my earbud again, and dial up the volume a few notches. There’s no more point in talking; if they’ve made their decision, there’s no point in listening to anything else they have to say. Snapping my fingers twice, I speak to my earbuds. “Give me Ember, by Val Tein Verrakai. Tell me how long I have.”

“Three minutes and eighteen seconds.” comes the echo from my earbuds.

I smile. “Play it.”

As the first rich piano notes sound, the clomping of boots fades away, as does the rattle and clatter of weapons. I can feel the power start to flow through me again, spiking with the striking of the drums, and rising with the growing sigh of the violin. As Val Tein’s voice sounds the opening verse, I feel myself sinking into a story of my choosing — the reality that I choose to build and make for myself.

The night, she lingers at your door

While the phoenix in your fireplace

Has died and is no more…

I see their mouths open, talking, probably shouting commands at me as rifles are leveled in my direction. But I can’t hear them, and won’t be able to for a while; my only response is to raise a hand towards them, a hazy blue barrier forming in front of me as they start shooting. The plasma bolts splash off of it, bits and pieces swirling through, but most of the superheated gas is blocked by the barrier. I can see Axiom starting to move into a charge, while Nazka follows behind him at a slower stride; I lean down, setting my fingers to the ground as I prepare to sprint forward.

As you gaze into the dark

And ask what it was all for

Fate and all her friends are knocking —

They’re here to settle the score.

I bolt forward with that, hurtling down the road like I was fired out of a cannon. The barrier shatters as I blast clear through it, slamming into Axiom before he has the chance to dodge. And I keep going, barreling him backwards, Nazka leaping out of the way, sparks flying as the heels of Axiom’s boots scrape across the asphalt. We don’t stop until we slam into one of the parked trucks, the door denting inwards, the window shattering, the vehicle rocking backwards under the force of the impact.

Springing off him and spinning into the air, I land in the bed of one of the trucks further back in the convoy. There’s a locker sitting at the rear of the bed; energy gathers around my boot before I kick it down, the lock snapping off in a single go. Yanking it open, I dig through it until I find my ninjato hilts, pulling them out and igniting them in a flash of prismatic light.

Rise up, broken warrior

For you’ve heard this song before

Seize the ember from the ashes

And sing our song once more

The racing beat of the drums replaces the cadence of a heartbeat I lost long ago, giving me a rhythm and a tempo as I go flying through the ranks of CURSE’s forces. All the energy hurtling through me is channeled through my starglass blades, giving them the heat they need to shear through rifle barrels and armor. Even consumed as I am by my musical frenzy, I avoid going for the kill; to wound, injure, incapacitate, even maim, but not kill. That’s not who I am, and that’s not what I’m here for.

I’m here to make a point, send a message, and protect everything that the Valiant Project has worked for.

My rampage is interrupted by something exploding just behind me, and sending me flying. Normally I’d have landed on my face, heavily jarred after something like that, but everything’s different when I’m amped. I fold my arms in, twisting midair to land on one of the parked APCs; across the convoy, I see Onslaught reloading her rocket launcher. Tucking one of my ninjato away, I grab the operative in the gunner position on the APC, and throw him bodily across the gap. Onslaught looks up just in time to catch a coworker to the face, knocking her clean off the vehicle, with her rocket launcher tumbling down the hood.

And though I can’t hear it, I can feel it; I can sense the vibrations through the APC as someone else jumps up on it behind me. I flick my remaining ninjato over my shoulder, holding it across my back and rewarded with feeling it block some other weapon. Looking over my other shoulder, I can see Gossamer behind me, her plasma sword flickering and sparking as she yanks it back for another swing at me.

You may have lost the battle

But there is still a war

Fate and all her friends

Are knocking at your door.

Weave and twist, cut and slash; jerk backwards, dart forward — it’s all a dance to me. I can’t even hear the sound our blades make when they meet, but I can see the sparks, the growing concern in Gossamer’s eyes as she realizes she’s outmatched. When she manages to knock one of my blades out of my hand and up into the air, I just keep going, exchanging a flurry of strikes with her with my remaining blade. When the other one comes back down, I catch it in a single seamless movement, slashing it downwards to knock to her guard down at the same time that my other blade comes up, nailing her right across the face.

She staggers backwards at that, and I kick into the air, a leap boosted by a burst of power echoing away from my foot. I’m going for a double overhead slam, intent on shattering her blade as I come down on her, but I see her mouth form Nazka’s name in the second before I reach her. In the next instant, I’m being yanked backwards by the neck, something swinging me in a wide arc towards the asphalt.

I’ve got enough time to gather a shell of dampening energy around me, but I still hit the ground hard, grunting as I’m slammed down. The tether of Nazka’s shadow retreats from my neck, and I open my eyes, only to see the maw of a giant spirit wolf closing around me. It bites down, lifting me up and then flinging me to the side; I go flying across the street, slamming into the one of the buildings hard enough to crater the unmarked facade. Before I can move, tethers of shadow wrap around me, yanking me out and swinging me all the way across the highway to slam into the buildings on the other side with similar force. The tethers retreat again, but only so the wolf can bite down on me again and fling me high into the air, where the shadows again grab me and yank me down, cratering me back into the middle of the highway where I started.

Do not tell me

You do not hunger for all you lost

Do not tell me

There are no more rivers to be crossed

I grit my teeth, sucking in a deep breath as I struggle to work my way back to my feet. I’d known that Nazka would be a handful, given his showing in the canyons; shadow and gravity magic was an unusual and effective combination. But I hadn’t accounted for the girl with the white hair, from whom the ghostly wolf stemmed, and was now planting its paw on my back, shoving me flat against the asphalt once more. She must’ve been their ace in the hole, and that wolf must be ten… no, at least fifteen feet at the shoulder. It was massive, an absolute beast to have to deal with.

As I brace my forearms on the ground, I can see Axiom marching towards me, the plasma blades on his axe active. It looks like he managed to dislodge himself from the side of the van I plowed him into, and I can tell from his stride what he intends to do: it’s going to be a good old-fashioned decapitation while the wolf keeps me pinned down. Though Nazka and the other CURSE soldiers are standing ready at the fringes, they’re staying back, enough that they clearly think wolf girl and Axiom have this handled.

Looking around, I see my starglass blades lying on the asphalt where I’d dropped them, not far away but still out of reach. Resting my head on my forearm, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to fall back into the song again, and find my place in it.

Do not tell me

There is nothing left to fight for or defend

Do not tell me

That you have chosen to let it end.

My eyes snap open.

There it was, the diminuendo before the crescendo. The pause, the lull, the tense moment of near silence before the violin solo begins. I look up, my eyes fixing on my blades again; they start to roll across the ground, before flipping into the air as the music goes from slow to frenetic, rising ever higher on the scales. Both blades come down on opposite sides of me, impaling the asphalt; they discharge energy into the ground that forms the outline of a toothy maw around me. And that maw slowly starts to rise, a shimmering outline peeling away from the ground, twisting and writhing its way into existence.

Axiom stops short and starts to back up as the open maw folds in half upon itself, jagged teeth snapping shut around leg of the spirit wolf that’s pinning me down. I can feel the pressure let up as the wolf jerks back, trying to yank free, but it’s too late; there’s a massive vorcruelian rising from the glowing ground around me, ethereal and transparent like its prey. As the music climaxes, I gingerly get back to my feet and turn around within the luminous shadow of my own spirit manifest — and with little more than a thought from me, it swings the wolf by the leg, slamming it into the buildings on one side of the highway. Dust rises into the air as walls crack and crumple in on themselves; the white-haired woman goes to one knee. Then the wolf is swung in the other direction, slamming into the buildings on the other side of the highway, and it fully flickers out as its summoner collapses.

And with nothing in its mouth anymore, my beast slams its paws down on either side of me, opens its mouth, and lets off a roaring scream that can be heard clear across the Cradle.

You may have lost the battle

But there is still the war

So rise up, broken warrior

I know you’ve sung this song before.

Axiom’s completely backed off at this point; I am no longer his problem, and his focus is entirely on picking up the white-haired woman and getting her to safety. The operatives that can still fight are cutting loose with everything they’ve got; my vorcruelian folds a translucent wing around in front of me, shielding me from the brunt of the plasma bolts coming out way. Nazka is still at the front, his fingers curling as the shadows swirl around him; I can see in his cold grey eyes that this does not scare him like it does the others. He’s versed in the arcane; he has seen things like this before, and he believes that with time and careful consideration, he has the means and power to defeat what I’ve brought forth.

But I do not intend to give him, or any of his people, that time.

Yanking one of my starglass blades out of the ground, I lift it and point it straight down the highway, right through the middle of the CURSE convoy. Above me, the vorcruelian braces itself against the road as it opens its mouth, light gathering to a pinpoint in front of it as it starts drawing energy out of the air around us. As soon as Nazka sees what’s happening, his eyes go wide — and I grin, because I’m mad with power, completely unhinged at the moment, and seeing someone else recognize what’s about to happen gives me a rush of exhilaration that is just incomparable.

To his credit, he immediately brings his shadows up, spreading them into a barrier that he uses to cover as much of the convoy as possible. But I am unstoppable when I am like this, and the only thing that’s holding me back is the need to hit that sweet spot, to whisper along to the words at the apex of the song’s defiant finish.

Seize the ember from the ashes

Awaken the phoenix once more

For Fate and all her friends

Are knocking at your door!

A razorline of light cuts through the gloom of the quiescent Cradle, blazing against the barrier of shadow that Nazka’s holding up. It starts to bubble and roil as it burns away, holding only for seconds before the beam breaches it. Nazka is sent flying as the beam slams into the ground, then razes straight up the center of the convoy, cutting clean through most of the APCs, with breached fuel cells exploding in its wake. It peters out before it reaches the edge of Sector 2, but leaves a glowing scar on the highway, a trench of molten rock that pops and sizzles as it slowly cools.

With that, the strains of the song start to fade; I lower my blade as the manifest standing over me starts to evaporate like smoke on the wind. Reaching up, I tap my earbud, putting my playlist on pause before digging out my earbud. The sounds of battle — the crackle and roar of fire, the shouting of CURSE’s grunts going on damage control, of operatives trying to pull the wounded out of the way or tend to their injuries — it all starts to filter back in now that my music isn’t blocking everything out. At the front, Gossamer is crawling away from one of the flipped ATVs, wheezing and coughing, hair thoroughly disheveled.

“You brought six Peacekeepers and a full platoon of operatives, and thought that would be enough to stop me.” I call to her. “I agree with you — that one’s a joke for the ages.”

She jerks her head up, glaring at me. Eyes full of hate and spite, more so than I’d ever seen when she was in the Challenger program.

I shrug at her, reaching back to pull my other sword out of the ground. “Look, I’ve got three hundred more songs in this playlist. I can do this for…” I pauses to check the readout on my earbud. “…nineteen more hours. And thirty-eight minutes, if we want to be precise. And some of these are even more epic than the one I just listened to. So, your choice. Give us Dussel, then pack up and get out of here. Or, we can keep doing this, and once I’m done with you all, I’ll go to the hangar and turn your ship into scrap metal so the Viralix or the Masklings can take your whole battalion into custody when they get here. What’s it gonna be?”

Gossamer hawks some bloody spit to the side as she pushes to her knees. “I liked you better when you were a meek little bitch pining at Nova’s heels. You were useless, but at least you kept your mouth shut back then.”

I shrug. “What can I say, I’ve been on a journey of self-improvement ever since you lot sacrificed me on the altar of public opinion. I’m more willing to assert myself now.” Turning off my ninjato, I hook the hilts back on my beltline as I saunter over and crouch down in front of her. “But you didn’t answer the question. What’s it gonna be?”

She scowls at me, but reaches up to tap the collar of her armor. “All operatives, stand down. Priority one is recovering and tending the wounded. Priority two is seeing all personnel and functional resources back to the Justice. If you encounter any of the Challengers or Masklings, do not engage or contest them. All focus is to remain on retreat.”

I smirk a little. “Thank you. Truly. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go collect the rest of the stuff that your people stole from me and my friends.” Standing up, I walk past her, starting to work my way into the convoy.

“It won’t always be like this, Songbird.” Gossamer calls over her shoulder. “You aren’t the only one that wields this kind of power. Nazka will be ready for you next time, and so will Kwyn, and Headache, and Surge, and Ironfist, and dozens of other Peacekeepers. We even have a Spark of our own now.” She wipes the blood off her lip as she glares at me.

I stop at that, and turn around after a moment. “All you care about is power. Who has it, and who gets to use it. But what matters is how you use it, and why you use it. Maybe if you’d taught that to Nova and all the Challengers you trained, the program wouldn’t have been rotting from the inside out.”

“Yeah. I know.” she growls at me. “Trust me, I’m well aware of my mistakes.”

I hadn’t expected her to capitulate to the accusation, so I’m somewhat surprised. I’m not sure how to respond to it, and I don’t get a chance to, since I hear my name being called. Looking up, I see Kiwi, Tarocco, Sierra, Sol, and Midnatt exiting an alley on one side of the highway, cautiously filtering through the wreckage of the convoy on their way to me. The CURSE operatives that they pass by shy away from them, clearly following Gossamer’s orders.

“I told you guys to stay behind.” I point out once they reach me.

“No, you said you had to do this alone.” Tarocco corrects me. “You never said we couldn’t follow and watch.”

Sierra socks me in the arm as soon as she reaches me. “What the hell?! Why did we spend six months struggling and clawing when you were capable of this the whole time?! I knew you could kick ass, but I didn’t know you could kick this much ass this quickly!”

“Well, it’s not like I’m invincible, or that it doesn’t come at a cost.” I grunt, rubbing the arm she punched. “I did get cratered into two buildings and the highway, twice, and I’m only standing because I managed to dampen the impacts enough so they didn’t shatter every bone in my body…”

“Oh, you’re such a crybaby.” Sierra says, rolling her eye. “You’re a vampire. You can walk it off, just burn some blood. Did you figure out where they put our stuff?”

“Over there. Bed of the truck there, in a reinforced locker.” I say, pointing further back in the decimated convoy. “It should already be open.”

“I say we just take the whole truck. I ain’t feel like lugging a locker miles and miles.” Sierra says, moving past me. “C’mon, pixie sticks. You’re with me. We’re going to talk CURSE into giving us this truck.”

“You are not allowed to use that nickname.” Tarocco growls at Sierra, moving in a different direction. “You go get the truck and our things. I’ll track down Dussel and get the command key back, even if I have to pry it out of his cold, dead hands.”

Sierra shrugs. “Suit yourself, sweetheart. Hey you! Yeah you, with the face! That truck and the stuff in it belongs to the Valiant Project now…”

“Songbird. What would you like us to do?” Sol asks, and I fight the urge to take a step back as the Viralix crowd up on me the moment Sierra and Tarocco have left.

“We can assist with whatever you require.” Midnatt adds. Both of them are practically on top of me, staring up at me with vibrant, glowing eyes. “Your song exhilarates us. You radiate power and purpose and confidence, and we are eager to hear it again.”

“Oh.” I say, taken off guard by that. “That’s… uhm, thank you for the compliment. Well, can you… keep an eye on CURSE’s people and make sure they don’t turn on us while we’re retrieving our things?”

“Gladly. We will sense their intent before they have acted on it, and warn them away from it.” Midnatt promises.

“If they move to aggression, we will head them off.” Sol agrees, backing off and moving to one of the intact trucks. “Over here, Midnatt. Higher vantage will be better for skimming minds and identifying problematic individuals.”

Kiwi smiles as the Viralix move away to keep watch, then looks to me. “You been holding out on me, Blueberry.”

My smile falters a little, and I shrug. “Well, you’ve seen what I’m capable of now… just don’t ask me to repeat it too often.”

“I didn’t just see it. I felt it.” she says. “I felt the thrill. The manic exhilaration, the maddening rush of power… and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t crave it, just from secondhand exposure.”

I press my lips together. “You understand why it’s so dangerous, then. You felt how intoxicating unbridled power can be. You saw what it turned me into, how I acted—”

“With absolute certainty. Without any doubt.” Kiwi interjects. “You didn’t have any hesitation. You knew what you were there for. You knew what your purpose was. And you acted on it without second-guessing, with absolute confidence in yourself and what you needed to do.” She pauses to let that sink in. “I liked seeing that side of you, Feroce.”

That hadn’t been the reaction I was going for. “Well… yes, but I’m not sure that side of me is a good thing.” I say once I find my voice again.

“Maybe not.” she admits. “But I still like it.”

I don’t know what to say to that. On one hand, I want to be liked, and it feels good to be liked; on the other hand, how are you supposed to respond when someone tells you they like the manic, full-throttle, power-crazed side of you? “Uhm… well, maybe you shouldn’t?” I suggest gingerly.

She shrugs. “Too late. I do.”

“Might want to think twice about that.” Gossamer rasps from where she’s pulled herself into a sitting position, leaning back against one of the wrecked APCs. “Yeah, I’m still here, in case you didn’t notice. You know what they say about not sticking your dick in crazy, but same works in reverse. Don’t let crazy stick its dick in you.”

Kiwi raises an eyebrow at her. “A little bit of crazy keeps things interesting.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, before motioning to Gossamer. “Why are we having this conversation with you, of all people?”

Gossamer shrugs. “Just tryin’ to help a girl out. Keep her from making a mistake.”

“Oh, so I’m a mistake, am I now.” I say with disdain.

“Oi you tin-can Venusian bastard, get back here!” Tarocco’s shout echos over the crackle of the burning vehicles in the convoy. “Just because we got our command key back doesn’t mean we’re done with you!”

“Songbird! The traitor! He is fleeing!” Midnatt’s shouts at me from the top of the APC. I look to see the cloaked fox pointing to the other side of the convoy, where Dussel is jumping into his ATV and throwing it into gear.

“Oh shit, I completely forgot he was here.” I hiss, looking around and spotting the nearest intact ATV. I bolt towards it, shouting over my shoulder as I go. “Midnatt, Sol, stay here and make sure Sierra and Tarocco stay safe! Kiwi—”

“Already on it, that bastard’s not going to get away after what he did.” Kiwi says, clambering into the gunner position on the back of the ATV as I sling myself into the driver’s seat. Turning it on, I familiarize myself with the controls, finding the pedals and the stick. I’m sure there’s more to it than that, but the basics will have to do for now.

“You anchored back there, Kiwi?” I call as I take the ATV out of park.

“I’m good, just go! He’s getting away!” Kiwi shouts back as Dussel’s ATV tears out onto the highway, picking up speed as it heads back towards the hangar on the Cradle’s edge.

“Alright, hang on.” I say, touching a foot to the accelerator, feeling the ATV’s thrusters fire. Once I get a good sense of how touchy the acceleration is, I ramp up the speed, trying to make up the gap that Dussel’s got on us. “The Challenger archive is still aboard the Accatria. We can’t let him get back to the ship, or he’ll try to leave with it.”

“We got the command key back. We’ll get the archive back as well.” Kiwi promises, messing with the plasma cannon mounted on the ATV’s frame. “Where’s the power switch for this thing?”

I glance back at her, then the cannon. After a moment, I look around the rest of the ATV; it looks fairly high-tech, as these vehicles go. “Just a sec. This is a state-of-the-art ATV; CURSE has the cash to shell out for fancy next-gen systems.” I say, tapping on the dashboard screen. Between keeping my eyes on the road and navigating the menu, I manage to find the weapons portion of the menu. “There we go. It’s all integrated. The cannon’s active; it should be warming up now. Don’t go crazy, though; it draws from the same power source that the engine does. Tax it too much and we’re going to start dropping speed.”

“If we roast his ATV, we won’t need speed.” Kiwi replies. “Can you line up a shot for me?”

“Can do.” I say, guiding our ATV over to fall in line behind Dussel’s ATV. “Make this one count. Once he realizes we’re shooting at him, he’s going to start weaving to make it harder for us to hit him.”

“C’mon, how hard could it be?” Kiwi scoffs, seconds before the ATV rocks as the cannon fires. A blast of green plasma goes flying out ahead of us… and passes clear over the roof of Dussel’s ATV, missing by about three or four feet.

I glare over my shoulder at her.

“I’m gonna blame that one on the recoil.” she says innocently. “A gun this big really kicks, you know?”

“Aim a bit lower next time.” I say, tilting the wheel to try and stay behind Dussel as he starts weaving back and forth on the highway. “Remember to lead your shot. Don’t shoot at where he is; shoot at where he will be.”

“Look, I don’t tell you how to drive, so you don’t tell me how to shoot, okay?” she retorts, swiveling the cannon before taking another shot. Dussel’s ATV twists and swerves as the plasma blast hits, taking out chunk of the roof and the roll cage. “See? I know what I’m doing!”

“Yes, you totally know what— shit!” I swerve hard to one side as a pair of buster rounds rip through the windshield, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the reinforced glass. Dussel’s pulled his buster rifle, firing back at us; but since he has to keep one hand on the wheel, his shots aren’t exactly spot on. Even in a full suit of power armor, buster rifles are meant to be fired two-handed.

“Waugh! Jeez! Could you at least give me some warning next time?” Kiwi shouts from where she’s clinging to the cannon.

“Sorry, but he’s kinda shooting at us! Have you considered shooting back?” I retort.

“Don’t get sassy with me, Blueberry!”

“Just shoot!”

“Hard to do that when you’re swerving all over the road like a drunk!”

“Oh I’m sorry, should I stay still so he can take your leg off with a buster round?”

“Fine, you want me to take the shot?”

“Yes, I would!”

Our ATV kicks as another blast of green plasma goes hurtling out of the cannon. This time, it goes lower, striking within the rear wheel well of Dussel’s ATV; the tire blows out, getting shredded to pieces. Dussel’s ATV hangs hard to the right before overbalancing, rolling over over itself a couple times before coming to a stop on its side. I make sure to steer well clear of it as we pass by.

“Hell yeah!” Kiwi crows, grabbing the roll cage and swinging herself over, into the passenger seat. “Lemme hear it, who’s a crack shot?”

“Head down.” I grunt, glancing in the ATV’s side mirrors.

“Oh c’mon, don’t be a wet sandwich. Say it! Who’s a crack sho—”

“Head down!” Reaching over, I grab the back of Kiwi’s neck and shove her forward at the same time that I hunch down. Two seconds later, a trio of buster rounds rip through the ATV, one punching through Kiwi’s headrest while the other two shatter the already-compromised windshield.

“Oh shit.” Kiwi mutters, twisting out from beneath my hand and glancing between the seats. Behind us, Dussel’s crawled out of his ruined ATV; slinging his buster rifle over his back, he starts sprinting after us, the boots of his power armor thudding against the asphalt. “Is he still chasing us? That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen someone get up after a roll crash!”

“Most people aren’t wearing a full suit of power armor during a roll crash.” I reply as I reach over to the dashboard screen, cutting the power going to the plasma cannon so I can devote more acceleration. “He won’t be able to outrun us, but a suit of heavy power armor like that can run at up to thirty miles an hour for short periods of time. He’s not gonna get there before we do, but he will get there, and he’ll try to stop us from getting the Challenger archive.”

“Man, he just doesn’t know when to quit, does he?” Kiwi says, studying the gaping hole in her headrest. “Guess we’ll just have to kick his ass after we’ve secured the archive.”

“The asskicking may end up being secondary to other priorities.” I say, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror, where Dussel is growing more distant as we outpace him. “We’re starting to get stretched thin. Most of the Valiant are still stuck in the canyons, we’ve only got four people supervising CURSE’s convoy, and it’s just you and me heading to the hangar, where Dussel’s probably gonna have a ship full of mercs waiting to make our lives difficult. We’re badly outnumbered, so it might be best just to duck in, grab the Challenger archive, and retreat to regroup with the rest of the Valiant.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Kiwi scoffs at that. “You’re worried about being outnumbered after what you did to the CURSE convoy? Give me a break. Just break out the music again and kick some ass! Or better yet, break out the music and channel some of that energy over to me so I can kick some ass.”

“Yeah, uhm, about that.” I say. “It doesn’t exactly work that way…”

Kiwi gives me a deadpan look.

I shrug aggressively. “Look, I’ve gotta get into the mood! I have to be feeling it; it’s not just something I can flick on and off like a light switch! And then I’ve got to find the right song, something I can really vibe to—”

“Excuses.”

“No, seriously! I literally cannot turn it on and off like Masklings can do with your rune magic. I need some lead time; the moment’s gotta feel right.” I insist. “That’s why I told you it was a hit-or-miss kind of thing. We discussed this like, a week and a half ago. I told you I had a god mode and I could only kinda sorta control it.”

“What about what you did to the convoy? I saw you stop and break out your ‘surrender or face the consequences’ speech! Then you just popped your earbud back in and went to town!”

“Yeah, but I had like… thirty minutes of lead time prior to that! I had time to get into the groove, and jam out a bit, and get amped up!”

She rolls her eyes. “I think you’re just making excuses. You think too much about it. Sometimes you just need to do it and not overthink it.”

“Okay, look.” I say defensively. “Some of us don’t enjoy the benefit of extroversion or impulsiveness or a diminished self-preservation instinct.”

“You need to let go.” Kiwi says, leaning over the center console to look up at me. “Have more fun.”

I try to formulate a comeback to that, but I can’t. Part of it might be because it’s too easy to get lost in those wildfire eyes, but she’s also not wrong. Even if I’m cautious and hesitant by nature, I don’t always want to be. Sometimes I just want to be able to cut loose and have a good time, to let go of my inhibitions and do whatever I want to do. It’s something that I’d always admired in Nova, but it wasn’t something she encouraged in me. Not the way that Kiwi was.

And there was the difference between the two, I suppose. Kiwi encouraged and supported me the way Nova never had.

“You’re drifting.” she points out, tilting her head towards the road.

My attention flicks back to the road. “Yes, well, it would help if you weren’t trying to distract me with the googly eyes.”

“You love it when I give you the smolder.”

“You can’t smolder. You’re not a vampire.” I say, checking our speed.

“Just because I’m not a vampire doesn’t mean I can’t smolder. Seems like it works pretty good on you.”

“Admittedly, I have a weak spot for you.”

“Aww, that’s just adorable. If we weren’t in the middle of a high-stakes mission, I’d nuzzle you on the spot.”

“You choose the weirdest times to be affectionate.”

“Should I dial it back some?”

“Nah, it’s… refreshing.”

“Awesome, I’ll keep being weird.” She leans back into her seat, rubbing at some of the scrapes and bruises she’s picked up over the last couple of hours. “On a more serious note, what’s our game plan? I don’t really like admitting it, but I’m kinda spent after the throwdown with Nazka. The dude packs a hell of a punch, and if I hadn’t had you backing me, he prolly would’ve rolled me.”

“Can’t really plan if we don’t know what we’re gonna encounter.” I say, digging in my pocket and checking the earbud I took out. “I say we roll up, figure out what we’re up against, and act accordingly. All that really matters is that we get the Challenger archive back. Anything beyond that is just gravy.”

“What about Jackrabbit and Legaci?” Kiwi points out.

“Oh shit. Forgot about them.” I wince. “Yeah, we probably need to rescue them as well…”

Kiwi smirks. “I mean, you could always go back to Valkyrie empty-handed…”

“Oh hell no. She’d eat me alive if I didn’t come back with Jackrabbit.” I shiver. “Right, so we secure the Challenger archive first, then track down Jackrabbit and Legaci, and free them. Then we see about grouping up with the rest of the Valiant.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” she says as we near the edge of Sector 2. The tunnels leading to the hangar are coming into view, and I angle us to head down the middle one. “Seriously though, are you going to be able to get amped up, or was that a one-shot trick?”

“Working on that right now.” I say, scrolling through the tiny holoarray projected from the earbud in my hand. “Been a hot minute since I cleaned up my playlists. Some of these songs are old and they don’t really hit the way they used to back when they came out.”

“I wanna see.” she says, leaning over to peer at the holoarray. “What kind of music do you like listening to?”

“That is personal information.” I say primly, holding the earbud away from her and easing off the gas as we coast into the middle tunnel, which has a gradual downwards gradient heading to the hangar.

She grins. “Oh, is someone embarrassed about their music collection? Don’t want anyone to know you’re a romantic at heart?”

“I reserve the right to not be mocked for my music preference, like you’re…” I begin, then look up when I see a bright yellow light down the tunnel. I only have half a second to realize what it is, and jerk the wheel to the side, just barely managing to swerve out of the way. There’s the sound of an explosion behind us, but I’m too busy trying to control the ATV, which has slammed into the side of the tunnel, sparks flying as it grinds to a halt.

“The hell was that?” Kiwi grunts, glancing back at the glowing crater in the tunnel behind us.

“You’ll have to drive.” I say, kicking open the driver door after putting the ATV in park. I slide out of the vehicle, my boots hitting the ground. “Head back up the tunnel and head down one of the adjacent tunnels.”

“Hey, where are you going?” she demands as I slam the door shut behind me. “Why are you getting out? We were…” She peters out as she stares down the tunnel, seeing the hulking silhouette making its way up from the hangars. As I move to the middle of the tunnel, it lumbers into view under one of the intermittent lights cased within the tunnel’s ceiling.

It’s Prophet, but both his suit and his staff have gotten an upgrade since the last time we encountered each other. The suit now sits firmly in the ‘heavy power armor’ category, bulkier and with another layer of plating; the staff looks like it’s been beefed up as well, and now looks like a proper mace, still with that yellow star of light burning within it. A new Anayan mantle has been sashed around the shoulders and waist, embroidered with the golden heraldry of the Church of Anaya.

“Surprised you weren’t escorting the convoy.” I call, a hand moving to one of my ninjato hilts. “I thought you, of all people, would want to be there to help arrest me.”

“As ever, you misunderstand the prerogatives of Anaya.” Prophet replies, his voice filtered through his helm. “Arrest cannot undo what you have become. What our doctrine requires that I do to you is very different from what CURSE intended for you.”

“Charming.” I reply drily. “Kiwi, get in the driver’s seat and go.”

“What?! Are you insane? I’m not leaving you here to deal with this psychopath on your own!” she hisses through the driver-side window.

“Yes, you are. You have to. If Dussel reaches the Accatria before you do and leaves with the Challenger archive, it’s all over.” I reply, starting to walk down the tunnel towards Prophet. “I’ll meet up with you once Prophet and I are done… discussing our ideological differences.”

“Uuuuugh!” she seethes. “This is stupid! Your religion is stupid! This is why I never go to church!” Taking the ATV out of park, she backs it up a bit, then brings it around, shouting at me as she goes. “Five minutes! If you haven’t sorted it out by then, I’m coming back for you!”

“Love you too.” I call over my shoulder as she guns it back up the tunnel so she can take one of the other tunnels leading to the hangar. The yellow circle emblazoned on Prophet’s helm seems to watch her go, then turns to me.

“Please tell me you have not made profane congress with that abomination.” he says after a moment.

“That ‘abomination’ is someone I care about.” I retort. “And the details of our relationship are none of your business. You’re an ecclesiarch, not the bedroom police.”

“Unrepentant still, I see.” There’s a thump as he sets the butt of his staff to the road, extending his other hand to me. “Bring this madness to an end, Feroce. Come back to the Church. We can seek the apostles, ask them to pray for a miracle to turn you back. It is not impossible.”

I don’t say anything. It’s not because his offer repulses me, though it does — yet at the same time there is something in me that yearns towards it. To be turned back, to be made human once again, to undo this choice I made for the sake of being good enough for someone else that never cared about me. A choice I’d come to hate, since it reminded me of what a fool I’d been for loving someone that would never love me back. A choice I now had to live with for the rest of my potentially endless life.

And the chance to have it undone was so, so tempting.

I take a deep breath, then exhale it. “I made this choice, Thomas. It wasn’t the right choice, and I’ll admit that. But I made it. And I have to live with it now. I am not going to dodge the consequences of my actions. Anaya would not want that.”

He lowers his hand. “The sentiment is noble, but misguided. You have no power or authority to say what Anaya would or would not want.”

“True faith does not require a gatekeeper.” I say, hooking my ninjato hilt off my beltline and igniting it. “I do not answer to the judgement of you, or the elders of the Church. I will answer to Anaya herself, and if she has an issue with the choices I have made, I will settle it with her when I pass from this life. Until then, I will continue doing what I can to live a good life, and make the galaxy a better place.”

“I cannot say you were not offered a chance.” Prophet says, turning his staff to take it in both hands. “I only wish that you had taken it.”

“The offer left something to be desired.” I reply, tucking my earbud back in and tapping it. “Gloria Regali. Dial the volume up to sixty-two percent, set the EQ to orchestral.” Pulling my other hilt off my belt, I ignite that as I start walking towards Prophet. “If you’ve got anything to say, you better say it now, because I won’t be able to hear you in thirty seconds.”

“I will make sure your death is quick, and as painless as I can manage.” Prophet says, the light within the tip of his mace starting to shine brighter. “I cannot promise the same for the Maskling, once I am done with you.”

“On second thought, you probably should’ve kept your mouth shut.” I say, shaking my head as I burst into a sprint. “ ‘Cause that was a bad choice of words.”

Event Log: Kiwi

The Cradle: Sector 2 Hangar

6:01pm SGT

On one hand, I felt guilty about leaving Songbird to fight Prophet alone.

On the other hand, I was kinda relieved, because jeez that guy is scary.

Normally I wouldn’t mind squaring off against him, especially with Songbird at my side, but Nazka had put me through the wringer earlier. I’d barely survived that, and only because I’d reached an accord with Songbird while we were both on death’s doorstep. I’d thrown most of what I had into that fight, so I was feeling pretty battered and worn out by the time Prophet had popped up in our way.

And after the day I’ve had, squaring off with a religious fanatic in power armor, who also happens to be equipped with a staff that doubles as a handheld mortar, was not my idea of a good time.

So now I’m booking it down one of the adjacent tunnels leading to the hangar, hoping that Songbird made the right decision, facing Prophet alone. As I come up on the end of the tunnel, I ease up on the accelerator some, only because I don’t want the underside of the ATV to slam the ground when it levels out. There’s a bit of a bounce when I cross back into the hangar, but otherwise the repulsor pads handle it well. As I start to cross the immense expanse of the hangar, I glance over to the middle tunnel — I can see flashes of light within it, distant rumbles from Prophet and Songbird’s conflict. For a moment I’m tempted to change direction, to head over there and hit Prophet from behind to give Songbird an edge in the fight.

Then an aural explosion comes billowing out of the tunnel, and I see Prophet sailing out of the cloud of light. He hits the ground and rolls a couple times before finding his feet, slamming his staff into the ground to slow himself down as he keeps sliding backwards. Songbird comes shooting out of the fading explosion, surrounded by a nimbus of blue light as he brings up his blades, hurtling straight towards Prophet. “DON’T CALL HER A PARASITE!”

Yeah, it doesn’t look like he needs my help.

I stay the course, headed for the docks where the Accatria is moored. At the pier beside it a white ship that probably belongs to CURSE; the mercs look like they’re in the process of packing up to leave, while CURSE’s personnel are doing the reverse. As my ATV jumps the ledge down onto the quay proper, I hear a hefty thud, and a blue streak cuts across the hangar — it’s Songbird, plowing Prophet through the air and into the stern of the white ship, with an echoing crash that leaves a pretty nasty dent in the armored hull. That gets the attention of pretty much everyone on the piers, allowing me the distraction I need to get to the ramp of the Accatria’s cargo bay.

There’s some shouting from the merc personnel as I go racing up the ramp, but it doesn’t look like Dussel warned them of our arrival. Guns aren’t out, and most everyone is still in the business of getting everything packed up for departure. It’s clear that Dussel planned for this to be a nice, neat betrayal with nothing to clean up, because his people are not prepared for me. Especially when I come over the edge of the ramp and into the cargo bay proper, slamming into a pile of crates that go flying and tumbling across the bay.

Unbuckling myself, I shake my wristmarks to life as I kick open the door of the ATV. Though Songbird’s one pier over, he’s still close enough that I can activate his wristmark and get our link warmed up. The moment I do, I can feel energy and emotion flooding across that bridge, so much of it that it sends me to my knees as I step out of the ATV. I need to take a moment to catch my breath, clutching a hand to my chest as I feel the wild thing inside me thrashing awake, fighting to get out and manifest over this human facade I’ve so carefully built for myself over the years.

So much power.

I hope you’re enjoying it, because there’s only about thirty seconds left. It seems Songbird’s aware of our link being active — he may be able to sense I’m siphoning off some of what he’s generating. This song’s almost over and I don’t have something queued up that it’ll segue nicely into.

Really killing my vibe, Blueberry. I say, charging a displacement ripple as the Dussel mercs start to get their bearings and organize a defense. You can’t dangle this kind of power in front of me and then tell me I only have thirty seconds to use it.

Welcome to my world. I’m always on a timer when I bust this out.

Can you at least get over here before it runs dry? I ask, lifting a hand and releasing the ripple. Unlike my other displacement ripples, this one’s supercharged, and tears through the cargo bay like a tempest, lifting everything that’s not bolted to the ground — people included — and hurling them clear to the back wall of the cargo bay. I think I’ve got it locked down, but it’d still be nice to have backup.

Give me just a moment to knock out Prophet.

Knock him out?! Getting to my feet, I form a hexpanel shield to wear on one arm while I start to move through the cargo bay, the runemarks on the other hand forming into an orbit of featherblades. You need to kill him! He would kill both of us if he got the chance!

I don’t kill people unless I absolutely have to. And besides, we grew up together. I can’t just turn around and kill him. There’s a pause, then I can feel the power flowing through our link starting to wane. I just wrapped up here. I’ll be over in a moment.

You can absolutely kill people if they’re trying to kill you! I protest, flinging one of the featherblades at a merc that’s trying to get his rifle up and aimed at me. Hell, that’s exactly what I’m doing right now!

Please don’t kill more of them than you strictly have to. Dussel might’ve betrayed us, but his mercs are just getting dragged along for the ride. They didn’t choose this.

They knew the risks when they choose this line of work. So does every soldier and mercenary. I respond, making my way up the stairs at the back of the cargo bay so I can reach the doors leading to the rest of the ship. The excess power flowing across our link has fully faded away now; I’m back to feeling worn-out and battered, but I can’t afford to stop at this point. Be careful coming through the cargo bay. A lot of them have been knocked out or incapacitated, but there’s still a few flailing around—

Kiwi, he’s coming! Go!

I don’t need to ask to know who he’s referring to; I can see the flicker of an image sent across our link: Dussel sprinting towards the Accatria, as seen from Songbird’s eyes. It comes with a flash of panic from Songbird as he realizes he’s not going to be able to get there before Dussel does. Glancing around, I can hear Dussel thundering up the ramp in his power armor; as he crests the edge of the ramp, he reaches back, yanking his buster rifle off his back.

I sprint up the rest of the stairs, reaching the doors and badging my way in. Staggering into the corridor, I badge the door shut behind me, holding up my shield as buster rounds punch through the metal behind me. As a chunk of my hexpanel shield gets shattered by one of the shots, I turn and start running down the corridor, frantically trying to remember how to get to the intelligence center from here.

I’m coming, but he’s booking it and he’s telling his mercs to get on me. Songbird lets me know, little flickers of frustration bleeding through our connection. Get to the intelligence center, get the archive, then get out of there. See if you can find Jackrabbit or reactivate Legaci. He isn’t going to try to talk to you, he’s just going to shoot you until you stop moving.

That’s not reassuring! I reply, shouldering my way past two startled mercs in the hall. I’m not sure how long I can keep this up, Blueberry. I’m starting to feel pretty close to maxed out here.

Just hang in there a little longer. Once we get the Challenger archive, we can withdraw and regroup. We’re almost at the end.

If you say so. I hang a hard left into another hall as I hear the thunder of Dussel’s armored footsteps echoing down the corridors. At this point it’s a race against time; I feel like a rat in a maze, being chased to a dead end where the cheese also happens to be.

It isn’t long before I’m at the intelligence center, the doors sliding open as soon as I badge them. Badging them shut behind me, I vault over desks on my way towards the console in the center, where the archive is suspended in a column of light. But right as I reach it, the door to the intelligence center clunks open, Dussel lifting his buster rifle.

Instead of grabbing the archive, I duck behind the console as he starts firing.

“Shit shit shit shit shit!” I gasp as deafening gunshots echo in the room, sparks and chunks of metal flying as he starts shooting around the edge of the console. I scramble to move around it, trying to keep it between me and him as he starts circling around the room, trying to get a clear shot at me. I keep my fractured shield up, using it to block the shrapnel from the chunks he’s taking out of the console, but I know that if one of those buster rounds hits my shield, it’s going to shatter like a glass plate. Shit shit shit Songbird I need you, I NEED YOU NOW!

Here.

I can see a flicker of motion out of the corner of my eye, and turn my head just in time to see Songbird hurtle into the intelligence center through the doorway that Dussel had forgotten to close. He’s moving so fast that his speed takes him off the floor and up onto the wall, the screens embedded into them shattering beneath his boots. I can see the glow of the Spark in his eyes, and he races around the circular room in two seconds, his starglass blades angled down and to the side as he homes in on Dussel. Seeing Songbird enter the room, Dussel swings his rifle away from me and towards him, but it's too late. Songbird’s on top of him in an instant, both of his blades swinging across and cutting clean through the buster rifle as he races past Dussel. From there, he kicks off the wall and drops to the ground, sliding to a stop on the edge of the room as he turns to face Dussel, bringing his ninjato up.

Dussel sizes up the halves of his buster rifle, then throws them aside. “That’s how it’s gonna be, eh?” Dussel says, his voice filtered through his helm’s speakers as he brings his armored arms up, curling them into massive metal fists. “C’mon then, boy. Yo’ eyes ain’t glowin’ anymore. You’re fresh outta special sauce. Spent it all on trying to impress the lady, didn’t you.”

“I’d really rather not do this, Dussel.” Songbird warns. “I get it, you’re in a tough spot, you made some bad decisions. It’s not too late. You can still take them back.”

“Are you frickin’ kiddin’ me?” I shout around the console. “You’re still willing to forgive him? Ink take me now, you are literally allergic to killing people that deserve to be killed, Blueberry!”

“I didn’t come this far just to give up, son.” Dussel says, lumbering forward. “And I know you’re trying to stall. We both know two rainbow toothpicks don’t mean shit to seven hundred pounds o’ powered armor.”

He goes into a charge with that, and Songbird throws himself sideways, rolling over one of the consoles as Dussel slams into the spot where he used to be. I get up, slinging my broken shield at Dussel; it hits his shoulder and bounces off, dissipating in the air. When he starts to move towards Songbird, I start throwing my featherblades at Dussel’s helm, each one exploding on impact. It scores and grazes the metal, but doesn’t do much beyond briefly disorient him. Soon I’ve run out of feathers to throw.

Get the archive. I’ll keep him distracted long enough for you to get out. Songbird orders, lunging forward without waiting for my response. Sparks fly as he swings and slashes at Dussel, ducking and weaving to stay out of the way of the Commander’s powered punches, which are decimating consoles and desks wherever they make contact.

Leaning forward on the center console, I reach forward to do just that, only to be dumbfounded when my hand sweeps right through the prism floating in the column of light. I try again, but again my hand goes right through it, and this time I see the way the image ripples when my hand passes through it.

It’s just a holoarray projection.

The archive isn’t actually here.

My mind goes blank. This entire time, we’ve been fighting over something that isn’t actually in this room. I don’t get any time to fully process it, because I can hear a grunt; looking past the center console, I can see that Dussel’s managed to grab Songbird. Glass goes flying as he slams him against one of the desks, then throws him clear across the room, hard enough to leave a dent in one of the walls.

I bolt away from the center console, moving towards Songbird, but before I can reach him, a large, brutal hand clamps around my neck and head, yanking me backwards. I’d shout if I could, but all the air’s being squeezed out of my windpipe as Dussel turns me around to face him. “The archive. Hand it over.” he orders.

“Don’t have it…” I wheeze, grabbing at the gauntleted fingers around my neck and trying to loosen them.

“Hey steakfingers!” The shout comes from the side, and Dussel turns his helm to see Luci standing on the console next to him, holding up a can of spraypaint that’s immediately deployed to the front of his helm, and all over its external sensors and cameras. “Looks like you got a little something on your face there!”

“Son of a bitch—” Dussel snarls, throwing a hand up to block the spraypaint, but it’s too late. He tries to clear it off his helm with his free hand, but it just smears it around, all while Luci keeps spraying it all over the helm. Eventually Dussel swings his free arm out, catching Luci hard enough to throw him back against the wall, before disengaging his helm. As it folds back and away from his face, he stomps around, locking onto Luci, who’s still trying to get up off the ground. “You’ve been a pain in the ass since the day you stepped foot on this ship—”

The crackle of a coilgun discharge rips through the room, and Dussel staggers a few steps as a burst of spikes hit him in the side. He goes to one knee, his grip on me loosening enough to give me some breathing room, but not enough to get free. As I gasp in some desperate breaths, I can see Tony standing in the doorway, a coilgun rifle leveled at Dussel.

“What the hell, Adjutant.” he grunts, sparks flying from where the spikes managed to breach the outer layers of his armor. “How much did they pay you? What did they promise you? Whatever it is, I can beat the price.”

“Unfortunately, I am not like you, Commander.” Tony says, her voice as cool as her ice-blue eyes. “My loyalty cannot be bought or sold because it is already spoken for, and has been for quite some time. I did not want you to find out like this, but your decisions have left me with little choice.” She tugs the wrist cuff of her uniform back slightly, revealing…

Runemarks.

I start laughing. I just can’t help it. “So it was you all along. You’re the one that snuck my deck of cards back into my cell. The one that tipped off Forecast so he knew where to come looking for me after I was captured.” I rasp. “I knew we had a sleeper here, but I didn’t know it was the goddamn bridge adjutant.”

“Goddamn shame.” Dussel grunts. “Should’ve known someone with a work ethic like yours was too good to be true.” He turns his free hand upright, a compartment on the forearm of his armor opening up and ejecting a grenade into his hand. “Played your hand a little too soon, though. Should’ve saved it for when you had me dead to rights.”

With that, he flicks the pin out and tosses the grenade at her — only for Luci to lunge into the way, taking the brunt of the plasma blast as the grenade explodes, vaporizing most of Luci and throwing Tony back out into the hall hard enough to knock her out. As the cloud of plasma starts to cool, I jerk a leg up, kicking Dussel in the face to try and get him to let go.

Unfortunately, it has the opposite effect. The hand tightens back around my neck again and Dussel stands to his feet, lifting me up as he goes. “I could’ve put up with Songbird’s battered idealism. I could’ve put up with Sierra’s incessant flirtatiousness, and I could’ve endured Jackrabbit’s irritating optimism. Even the Viralix, with their outdated sense of duty and honor — I could’ve dealt with that. But you Masklings just make me sick. Always hiding something, always maneuvering behind the backs of people that trust you, planting your people in governments and organizations so you can pull the rug out from under them when it suits you. I didn’t want to be proved right, but the adjutant’s gone and confirmed what I always suspected.”

“The only reason she betrayed you… is because you betrayed us first.” I gasp, trying to muster enough energy to get my wristmarks active. “Did what she had to… ensure our survival...”

“I guess that Masklings and mercs aren’t that different in that regard.” Dussel says, throwing me to the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of me. At the same time I can finally breathe, I find myself struggling to do just that. “We’ll do what we have to in order to survive.”

He brings up one of the legs of his power armor, and I realize too late what he’s about to do. Everything hurts too much to roll out of the way, and my wristmarks are still flickering, struggling to produce an orbit of runes. I need more time.

Then hundreds of pounds of powered armor stomps down on my face, and everything goes dark.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

M.V. Accatria: Intelligence Center

6:07pm SGT

Over the last decade or so, I’d forgotten how unenjoyable it is to fight against someone in heavy power armor when you yourself are not wearing power armor.

Today is doing a very good job of reminding me how unpleasant it is.

Granted, I’d taken on Axiom and Prophet prior to this, but I’d had time and the wherewithal to get amped up before those fights. That wasn’t the case with Dussel — I hadn’t had the time to go digging through my playlists, between fighting my way through his mercenaries and trying to catch up him so I could protect Kiwi. Plus, my Spark was being finicky, and only gave me enough to get to the intelligence center, but not for the rest of the fight. Which left me in a bad spot, since getting hit and thrown around by someone in a suit of heavy power armor was like getting bodied by a thousand-pound metal gorilla: in a confined space like this one, it was a bad proposition.

Now, as I started to come to, my body is confirming what a poor proposition that is. Groaning as I roll from my side to my front, I curl my fingers against the floor as I steel myself against the pain radiating across my body. I’m going to need to stand up, and it’s gonna hurt, but I’m a vampire and pain is philosophically irrelevant to vampires. We’re near indestructible, so pain is just a mental obstruction.

However, as I’m starting to push myself up, a giant metal hand closes around my head and lifts me up.

This is simultaneously a relief and a cause for concern, but either way I’m not given much time to process it, as I’m promptly slammed down on another console and flipped over. Metal groans and crunches as Dussel sits on the edge of the console next to me, planting a metal hand on my chest. “Oh good. You’re conscious.”

At the moment, all I can muster is a dissatisfied grunt as I glare at him, willing the blood with my body to flow to the areas with the most damage.

“I will admit, you gave me a run for my money there.” he says, patting his hand against my chest, although each pat only serves me to dent me further into the console’s broken surface. “I have not had a job that is this vicious, this bloody, or this hard-fought in a long time.”

“If you think I’m beat, you are in for an unpleasant surprise.” I wheeze at him.

“You have provided plenty of those today. I’m not a big fan.” Dussel says. “So, in light of that, I figured I should return the favor. Tell me, how attached are you to that rebellious Mask Knight? You seem pretty fond of her.”

A sense of dread starts to creep up in me; I reach for my belt where my ninjato hilts are normally clipped, but they’re not there, and I remember that somewhere between getting my ass beat and thrown across the room, I’d dropped them. “If you did something to her, Dussel, I would recommend you run before I find out what it is.”

“So, fairly attached to her.” he surmises, leaning his weight — several hundred pounds of heavy power armor — on the hand he has resting on my chest. I grit my teeth, eventually letting out a shout of pain. “Don’t worry, she’s still alive. Sort of.”

He lifts his other hand, which had been hanging out of sight until now. In it is a Mask — the first time I’ve really seen one up close. It looks like the edges are made of wood, which slowly fades to glass the closer it gets to the center. It has no mouth, but it does have a pair of eyeholes; the glassy portions are largely green, with red accents that denote facial markings. Tall, isosceletic triangles near the upper edge of the mask are carved in the semblance of feathered ears, tilted forward ever so slightly. And atop it all, the Mask is splattered in blood that’s still fresh and damp.

My mind locks up. I know that’s Kiwi, and I know what this means, but the shock of seeing it has me paralyzed. After a moment, I shake it off, planting a hand on his armored forearm as I reach for Kiwi’s Mask with the other.

“Thought you might try that.” Dussel says, holding the Mask out of reach. “Don’t worry. I know how important she is to you. Since you like her so much, I figure the two of you should get to know each other a little better.”

That sets off red flags in my head. I realize what he’s about to do, and I immediately start struggling, trying to get free before he can do it. But he’s still got the weight of the upper half of his power armor leaned on me, keeping me pinned to the console as he brings his other arm around and wrestles Kiwi’s Mask onto my face. I thrash my head back and forth, trying to keep him from firmly seating it on my face, but it’s no use. I can feel the cold interior of the Mask, slippery with warm blood in some places, press against my face and align, as if drawn into place by magnets.

And then—

Leaves.

Red leaves.

I blink. I’m standing, once again, in front of the redleaf tree from my childhood.

Twice in one day. What are the odds? I figured something like this only happened during near-death events. I didn’t know I’d find myself here again, when… when…

The sound of footsteps pounding over leaf litter sounds behind me. I turn around to see Kiwi hurtling toward me in a dead run, hands out to hammer into my chest and shove me back against the tree. I expect to feel it slam against my back, but there’s only emptiness behind me, and I throw my arms out on reflex — to find that the tree’s trunk has split down the middle, and I’ve just barely kept myself from falling into that gaping aperture.

“Whoa, whoa whoa whoa!” I sputter, trying to get my balance. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, Feroce.” Kiwi grunts, bearing her forearms against my collarbone as she shoves hard, like she’s trying to stuff me into the crevasse in the tree. “I have to do this, it won’t be for long, I promise, just please cooperate!”

There’s a certain panicked desperation in her voice that isn’t like the Kiwi I’m accustomed to. Something here isn’t right, but I know that if I fall into the tree, something’s gonna happen that I won’t like. So I resist, fighting against the pressure that Kiwi’s putting on me. “What are you doing? Just tell me!”

“It won’t be for long, it’ll just… please just stop resisting!” Reaching out, she grabs one of my arms and tries to dislodge my grip on the side of the crevasse. I don’t let go, but for a moment my vision flickers, and what I see is a bunch of images, shapes, experiences, and memories all in the shape of Kiwi. Like a living, moving collage.

And all the sudden, I realize where we are, and what’s happening.

“Kiwi, no!” I hiss as I feel my grip on the sides of the crevasse start to slip. “It’ll be fine, I’ll keep you safe and I’ll find you another Maskbearer, I promise! There are— there are hundreds, thousands in stasis in the Cradle; we just need to find one after this and—”

“No! You don’t understand what it’s like being a Mask without a Maskbearer!” she snaps, clamping a hand over my mouth. “It’s just darkness and waiting; no sensation, nothing but your thoughts, and I just… I can’t do that, not even for you. This’ll only be for a little while, I promise, please just stop resisting and… let… me… have… control!”

I grit my teeth as I start to slip further into the crevasse under the pressure Kiwi’s putting on me. She’s got her feet planted against the roots of the tree, the muscles in her neck and arms straining as she bears all the leverage she’s got against me. I’m not in a position where I can really push back; I’m having a hard enough time holding up my weight, not to mention hers on top of it. “Kiwi, stop! You’ve got to trust me! We talked about this literally less than two hours ago!” I shout, my voice muffled by her hand.

“I’m sorry, Songbird.” she says as she repositions her feet against the roots, finding bends in them that she can more easily use as bracing footholds. “I can’t. Not for something like this.”

With that she starts pushing again, and my arms start to slide over the bark as I’m pressed further back into the tree. I realize now that I’m not going to win this battle; Kiwi got the jump on me, and she’s a force of nature. I know how she gets when she sets her mind to something; nothing stops her once she’s locked onto her decision.

But that doesn’t mean I have to take this lying down.

Letting go of the sides of the crevasse, I instead fold my arms in, wrapping them around Kiwi as I start to fall backwards. The sudden lack of resistance surprises her — almost as much as the realization that we’re both falling into the tree. Whatever she had planned for me, she’s going to be a part of it now. As we slip into the red tree, the crack in the trunk folds shut, trapping us inside.

We’re in this together, for better or worse.

Event Log: ???

M.V. Accatria: Intelligence Center

6:11pm SGT

This isn’t right.

I’m conscious, I’m aware, but even using that word — I — is a tenuous proposition. I don’t feel like an I. I feel like an it, a them, two somethings that think in sync and yet struggle with each other.

Look what you’ve done to us!

You can’t just take control of me like that. I don’t exist just to be your body puppet.

I roll off the console, and stagger to my feet. Dussel, who had stood and started towards the center console, pauses and looks around. “Well, that was quick. You’re not looking too great. Not looking like… either of them, to be honest.”

I wince and clutch my head as I feel myself flicker and glitch. Two conflicting identities, one a him, one a her, with only single body between the two of them — and unable to figure out which it needs to be, it just flickers back and forth erratically. Sometimes him, sometimes her, sometimes a mashup of both.

“Yeah… I’m not taking risks with that.” Dussel says after a moment, reaching out. I try to stagger away, but his gauntleted hand closes around me, lifting me up before turning and throwing me across the room. I hit the center console back-first and fall to the floor, twisting and groaning from the pain of taking a blow to the spine. Dussel’s heavy steps clank over the floor towards me, stepping over me to arrive at the center console. “Do me a favor and stay down there until I’m done here.”

I gasp a breath, rolling over on my back. I can see Dussel reaching for the archive, suspended in the column of light, and dread races through me.

He’s gonna be pissed when he realizes it isn’t real…

What?! What do you mean, not real?!

It’s just a projection. The archive isn’t really there.

Not there? Where is it, then?!

No time for an answer. Dussel reaches for the archive, but the projection just flickers when he tries to pinch the prism between the fingers of his gauntlet. He tries it again, then swipes his entire hand through the image as he realizes there’s nothing but photons there. After a dumbfounded moment, he wheels on me, reaching down to haul me up by the front of my shirt. “Where is it.”

We should spit in his eye.

What? No! That’s just gonna piss him off even more!

He’s just gonna kill us anyway.

You’re gonna get us killed!

“Don’t know.” I wheeze, feeling myself flicker again. My voice is layered. Two-toned. Both of them speaking at once, in unison. “But you’re not gonna get it.”

“They’re right.” Both of us look to the side, where the image of the archive rearranges into a miniature of Legaci’s avatar. “Tony moved it as soon as you left the ship with CURSE. A good thing too, considering how you sold out the Valiant Project.”

“I had my men unplug you.” Dussel snarls, then turns to glare out into the hall where Tony is out cold against the wall. Letting me drop to the floor, he starts in that direction — only for the doors to the intelligence center to slide closed, bolting in place.

“You did.” Legaci agrees. “But as soon as Luci returned and Tony had the backup she needed, they dealt with the guards you posted and plugged me back in. And let me tell you, Dussel, I am pissed.”

Dussel twists back around. “You think you can threaten me on my own ship—”

“This isn’t your ship anymore.” Legaci snaps. “I’m jacked into every system. You’re just lucky Tony talked me out of flooding the entire ship with carbon monoxide from the engineering deck. So here’s how it’s gonna go: you’re going to get out of your armor. Once you have, I’m going to open the door, and you’re going to surrender yourself to Jackrabbit, who’ll be here shortly with a set of cuffs. Tony ordered your men to prep a cell in the brig, though they don’t know it’s for you. And once we’ve collected our people, sent CURSE packing, and cleaned up this mess, we’ll figure out what to do with you.”

Dussel shakes his head. “No. No, I don’t think I will. You’re going to watch while I make my way through this ship, killing every mutinous bastard that I come across. Starting with…” He makes a general waving motion in my direction as I stagger back to my feet. “…whatever hybrid abomination the lovebirds turned into.”

I bring my fists up, swaying with the struggle of feeling my body glitch back and forth between the warring identities in me. “Bring it on, old man.” I growl. “I’ll beat your ass just like I beat everyone else’s ass. Twice.”

Dussel gives me a flat look, then looks back at Legaci. “On the bright side, this first part isn’t going to take too long. Just really wish I didn’t have to do it.” With that, he starts to move towards me. “This way, I’ll get to kill both of you at once. Two birds with one—”

“Hey bitch, guess what!” There’s a clank and a scrape as a flash of motion rolls out from behind one of the consoles, slamming something into Dussel’s side. He twists around, swatting as Luci quickly backs off. “Cheshire cats? We’ve got a lot more than nine lives. So pissing us off? It’s a really bad idea.”

Dussel grabs one of the damaged consoles with both hands, snapping off a chunk of it that he clearly intends to throw at Luci. “Infinite lives just means I get the satisfaction of breaking you in half over and over again like a—”

Luci doesn’t wait for him to finish, just lifting a hand and waving it. Dangling from his thumb is a grenade pin — and immediately after, he dives behind one of the consoles.

Dussel blanches, and looks down. There in the side of his power armor, where Tony’s burst of coilgun spikes had managed to penetrate his armor, a plasma grenade’s been wedged into the breached plates.

Oh shit.

Oh shit indeed.

Get behind the console, get behind the console!

I dive behind the center console as the grenade detonates, but the blast radius isn’t near as bad as I’d expected. Superheated plasma loosely spills past the base of the console; getting onto my knees, I peer over the top of it. The grenade detonating halfway inside Dussel’s armor has affected the spread of the plasma cloud; half of it appears to have rushed to one side, melting the nearest consoles and catching some of them on fire, and the other half…

Well, it’s not pretty.

Holy shit, what’s happening to him?

Power armor isn’t a solid mass. There have to be gaps between the outer plating and the actuation layer, gaps between plates, to allow for a range of movement. But superheated plasma often behaves like a gas, and one thing liquids and gases do when expanding rapidly is… fill gaps.

There’s a big hole in the side of Dussel’s armor where Luci stuffed the grenade, but what really catches my attention is how patches of the armor are starting to glow and deform, like they were melting from the inside out. Dussel himself is trying to stagger away from the cloud of plasma, though his movements are increasingly stiff and stilted, as if the actuator gears within his suit were melting and fusing. He falls over on the ground, hands up and yanking at the collar of his suit, and there’s a whining as if gears were shifting and trying to unlock, but were too damaged to fully disengage. His face is red, like actual red, and getting redder, as sweat beads on his face and blood starts to drip from his nose.

The plasma’s basically cooking him alive in his power armor.

Oh, that’s just…

That’s rough.

That’s gonna give me nightmares.

He deserved it, though.

Don’t say that. We should put him out of his misery.

I agree with you on that.

I lift my hands, staring at my wrists. There are runemarks there, but I’m not sure I trust myself to use them while I’m this unstable. Looking around, I spot one of my ninjato, and scramble across the floor, grabbing it up. Standing unsteadily, I stagger over to Dussel, raising the blade and pausing when I realize I don’t know how to go about this. I don’t have a good angle on the neck, with the collar of his armor in the way; but I don’t have anywhere else to stab him that would make for a quick and painless kill.

But when he stares up at me, starting to cough up bubbling blood, I know I have to do something.

So I ignite the runemarks around my wrists, selecting the ones for force and strength. As energy flows into the prismatic blade, setting the edge afire, I grab the hilt with both hands and swing it down.

The blow is jarring, but it manages to cleave all the way through. Blood fountains across the ground as Dussel’s head thuds to the floor; I grit my teeth, looking away before turning altogether. Staggering away, I drop the blade, collapsing against one of the intact consoles, and sliding to the ground. I can hear the door to the intelligence center unbolt and clunk open, followed by heavy thumping of Jackrabbit’s mechanized boots; she soon comes into view, kneeling beside me.

“Are you okay?” she asks. I can see the concern in her brown eyes, confusion and alarm as she both does and doesn’t recognize me.

“No.” I exhale, shaking my head. I can see she’s further taken aback by the two-tone layering of my voice. Lifting a hand, I point towards my face. “Both. Neither one… will yield. Need to get back to the city… stasis facilities… get a Maskbearer…”

“Okay, that’s… yeah, I see why we need to do that.” Jackrabbit says, looking over her shoulder at Dussel’s corpse, before taking a deep breath and looking back to me. “Things are still kinda shaky right now; can it wait?”

“NO!” I shout, then clamp a hand over my mouth, panting. “…it needs to be… soon… I’m not sure… how much longer we can do this…”

“Okay, okay.” Jackrabbit says quickly. “Right away. Got it. It’s gonna be touchy, but I’ll see what we can do—”

“Jackrabbit, with Dussel dead, there are no hostiles left that can override my control of the Accatria.” Above the center console, Legaci’s avatar has remanifested after being disrupted by the plasma grenade. “I hold full control of the ship, along with Sierra and Tony. I will have some degree of control over the movements of mercs onboard the ship. Those that I cannot control, I will need you to take care of. Luci can escort… the hybrid back to the Cradle to get a Maskbearer, if you can get Tony to a safe place and then help me secure the ship.”

“Got it.” Jackrabbit nods, then shouts out into the hall. “You hear that, Luci?”

“You promise you’ll take care of her?” Luci’s demands. He’s probably out in the hall, fretting over Tony.

“We won’t let anything happen to her.” Jackrabbit says, getting up and walking back to the hall. “We’ll make sure she’s safe here on the ship. Go help Songbird and Kiwi get back into the city and find another Maskbearer.”

“Okay.” A moment later, Luci walks into view, staring down at me. “Gods, look at you. What a mess.”

“You’re not looking too hot yourself.” I shoot back at him.

“I’ve been killed twice in as many hours. It’s been a rough day.” he says, holding a hand out to help me up. “C’mon. Let’s go find you a proper Maskbearer.”

Event Log: Lucanthiline

The Cradle: Sector 2 Undercity

6:47pm SGT

“You still okay?” I ask cautiously as we tread down a hall in the subterranean portion of a research facility. The Songbird-Kiwi hybrid is staggering along in front of me, one hand held to the wall to stay balanced, their outline flickering and blurring every now and then.

“Fine.” they reply in that… weird, layered voice. Like both of them are speaking in unison. “Almost there.”

I nod quietly to myself, looking back down the hall. Though I don’t expect anyone to be following us, I wouldn’t put anything past CURSE right now. Until they’re gone from the Cradle, I don’t think I’ll be able to relax. “Sierra says the CURSE convoy is moving again. Headed back to the hangar. Legaci has full control of the Accatria and has the weapons charged up. She’s let the CURSE interdictor know that if they don’t behave, she’s gonna give them a full broadside from across the pier.”

The hybrid doesn’t respond, still staggering along towards what looks like a frosted door. It raises its wristmark to the door, which turns into a transparent membrane; it steps through without hesitation, and I hurry through behind it. The membrane frosts over behind us once more, leaving us in a frigid hallway that leads down to a hub with other spokes radiating off it.

“So, uh… not to be nosy or anything, but I thought when people got Masked, they turn into the Maskling that Masked them…” I say, following along behind the hybrid.

“He wouldn’t let me have control.” the hybrid growls, in just Kiwi’s voice. Before I can respond, it speaks again, this time in Songbird’s voice. “This is my body. I will share with you. If you don’t like it, you can sit in the backseat.”

“Oh.” is all I can say to that. As conversations go, this is a pretty awkward one. “So, you’re both…?”

“We’re not properly fused.” it replies, this time with the layered voice. “Neither one will yield to the other. They are trying to remain separate entities, instead of forming a new individual.”

“Sounds, uhm… uncomfortable.” I say, phrasing it carefully as we reach the hub and the console in the middle of it. The hybrid staggers to the console, leaning heavily on it as it flickers to life, the holoarray springing to life. “I, uh. Guess it’s a good thing we’ll be getting you a different Maskbearer.”

“Yes.” is the short reply as it starts flicking through the icons in the holoarray.

As we fall into silence once again, one of the spokes of the hub lights up, illuminating the rows of pods on either side. Pushing off the console, the hybrid starts to stagger down that spoke, staring into each pod as they pass it. I gingerly follow along behind them, staring into the pods; each one contains a human, with males on the left and females on the right. For reasons that quickly become apparent, the hybrid is only surveying the females, and after reaching the end of the spoke, heads back down the row to study a couple of pods, then settling on one that contains a Maskbearer that most resembles Kiwi in height, muscle tone, and general dimensions.

“This one.” the hybrid mutters, accessing the pod’s control panel. Flicking through the options on the screen, it selects what I can only assume is the waking option, and the pod starts to whir. Runes inscribed in the metal frame start to light up and glow, while on the glass, a circular progress bar starts loading — what I can only assume is a visualization of how long until the revival process is complete. With that done, the hybrid staggers backwards, sitting heavily on the ground and leaning back against the pod behind them. After a moment, I join them on the cold floor as well.

“So, ah… if you don’t ask me asking.” I say after a couple of minutes of silence. “There were like… a bunch of other species in the other halls. Is there a reason you picked a human…?”

“Should there be a reason I wouldn’t?” it asks without lifting its head.

“I mean… and don’t take this the wrong way, but… human, dude.” I say, shrugging. “They’re like the weeds of the galaxy. They’re everywhere, live fast, die quick, yet multiply like rabbits. Maybe I’m biased because I’m a schrödinger, but there’s so many other interesting species you could be. Like a lepidopteran! Now those are cool.”

It opens one of its eyes to stare at me, a brief ring of liquid fire that’s indicative of Kiwi’s iris. After a moment, it closes its eye again, but when it answers, it’s just Kiwi’s voice. “My first friend was human. My brown-eyed boy.”

“Your first friend?” I repeat, leaning forward a little.

“He was kind to me. He took care of me. Showed me there were good people in the galaxy.” It leans its head back, resting it against the pod behind it. “He was human. His family was human. His entire community was human. But I wasn’t human. I wanted to be with him, be part of his life, but I couldn’t, because I didn’t belong. And then they took him away from me, and they took me away. And after that, I only took human Maskbearers, because I wanted to be as human as possible. So I could be part of his life if I ever met him again.” The hybrid lets its head to loll to one side. “The habit stuck. I never grew out of it. I think there’s a part of me that still hopes I’ll find him again one day, even if there’s probably a physical age disparity between us by this point.”

I take a minute to process that, then give my response. “You should stop living in the past. You can’t go back and change things. And you have a good life right now, with friends and people that care about you. Stop trying to become something for someone that isn’t around to appreciate it.”

The hybrid opens its other eye, this one a ruby red. Richer, darker than Kiwi’s. And when it speaks, it’s with Songbird’s voice. “He’s got a point. It’s not worth it to change what you are for someone that isn’t there for you, or doesn’t care about you. Speaking as someone that did exactly that, and has regretted it ever since.”

The hybrid flickers and glitches almost immediately, its outline wavering and blurring as the other eye snaps back open. “Nobody asked you, Songbird. Besides, Nova didn’t care about you. My brown-eyed boy cared about me, even if we were just kids. And it’s too late to change my mind anyhow. The revival process has already been started, and I can’t put it on pause or reverse it. I’m pretty much committed to this Maskbearer at this point.” There’s a pause before it goes on. “But I’ll consider something less bland on my next Maskbearer after this. However many years it’ll take to get to that point.”

I glance at the activated pod. The progress circle is more than halfway done. Another few minutes, and it’ll probably be open. “I gotta admit, it’s kinda wild, sitting here and watching you talk to yourself.”

The hybrid gives me a flat look, speaking with both voices again. “We’re glad we could amuse you with our mutual trauma.”

I smirk. “You two are perfect for each other.”

“I’m not going to ask what you mean by that.” the hybrid says, starting to sit upright once more. “I need to take the Mask off now. The separation will be… unpleasant, so do not be surprised if Songbird is distraught afterwards.”

My smirk fades. “…is there anything I should do, or…?”

“Take the Mask from him once it’s off. He will want to put it back on.” the hybrid says, lifting its hands to its face. “Put it on the Maskbearer once the pod is open.”

With that, it puts its hands to the sides of its face, and starts pulling. The blurring around the edges of its outline becomes more violent as the shape of a Mask starts to coalesce between the hands; the hybrid lets off a pained sound, before jerking the ethereal mask away from its face. At that point, the body definitively reverts to Songbird, while the shimmering blur is sucked into the Mask, which fully solidifies. I scramble forward, snatching the Mask away from Songbird as he gasps, hunches forward.

“Are you okay?” I ask cautiously, watching as he wraps his arms around himself. The way he’s grimacing, it looks like he’s about to cry, and his only response is to fold over on himself, his head touching to the cold floor as he lets out a long, anguished moan. Reaching out hesitantly, I pat the back of his battered longcoat, keeping the Mask tucked behind me. “It’ll be okay. The stasis pod’s almost open. Just… breathe.”

He doesn’t respond, just rocking back and forth on the ground. I don’t know shit about Masks, so I don’t know what the big deal is, but if I had to guess, being forcibly merged with someone else and then getting ripped apart from them an hour later probably wasn’t pleasant. Looking up, I watch the progress circle on the stasis pod, and when it completes the revival cycle, the glass surface of the pod turns hazy and membranous. Standing up, I tentatively touch it; my fingers pass through what feels like a tenuous energy barrier. Leaning forward, I hold the Mask out and place it on the face of the sleeping Maskbearer, letting go as it snaps to her face and starts sinking in. The body starts to ripple and shift to Kiwi’s dimensions; shrugging off my jacket, I flip it around and drape it over the morphing body, since none of the Maskbearers went into their pods with clothes.

Stepping back, I stuff my hands into my pockets, waiting for things to start moving on their own. Eventually, I hear Kiwi shuffling in the pod, and she leans forward out of it, now wearing the jacket and with it loosely folded shut around her. “This yours?” she asks.

I give a short nod.

“Thanks. Can you see about finding me some pants to go with it?” she says, starting to climb out of the pod now.

“Yeah, I’ll go dig something up for you.” I say, starting to back away. Like cafes, I’ve been in tons of clothing stores, and I can manifest in any number of them. “Shouldn’t take but a few minutes. Can’t promise it’ll be stylish, but it’ll keep you warm.”

“Thank you.” Kneeling on the ground beside Songbird, she leans down, she presses her head against his, gently running her fingers through his hair. “Shhhh. I’m here.”

Seeing that the two of them are able to take care of each other now, I turn and start walking, heading back to the hub, then back down the hall we arrived through. Digging out my phone, I dial up Sierra, listening to it ring until she picks up.

“They’re separate again.” I say as soon as the line goes live. “Both a little shaken up, but otherwise fine. I’m gonna run to the store to find pants and a shirt for Kiwi, and another jacket for me. None of the Maskbearers had any clothes.”

“Now you’re making me wish I could’ve been there.”

I roll my eyes, grinning a little. “Is there ever a time when you’re not horny?”

“Never.”

“I don’t know why I asked. I already knew the answer.” I say. “How’s it doing topside?”

“CURSE is behaving for now. They’ve reached the hangar and they’re getting packed up into their ship. Legaci’s still got the Accatria’s cannons charged and trained on their ship, and most of Dussel’s mercs have fallen into line. Those that aren’t are getting an exclusive, all-expenses-paid trip to the brig for the foreseeable future.” There’s a pause on the line before she goes on, a clunk as if she was kicking a metal chassis. “Tell Songbird and Kiwi they left a hell of a mess in the intelligence center. This place is just wrecked.”

“You gotta cut ‘em some slack. If it wasn’t for them, you all would be screwed and stuffed in a CURSE brig by now.” I reply, looking over my shoulder. “Honestly they’ve been through a lot today. They deserve a break after this.”

“So does everyone else, but life isn’t fair. Let them know we need them up and at ‘em soon. I don’t want to leave anything to chance while CURSE is still here.”

“Yeah… I’ll let them know.” I say. “Anything else before I go?”

“Nah, that’s all. See you soon, fluffybutt.” With that, the line goes dead.

I lower the phone, tucking it back in my pocket. I turn, about to head back down the hall and tell the two that we need them back on their feet, but I pause on remembering how I left them. Kneeling next to each other, hunched and vulnerable, heads touching together.

After everything they’ve done and been through today, I figure I can let them enjoy the lull for a little bit longer.

Turning back around, I start walking once more, the hallway around me blurring and fading away as I go in search of clothing retailer to raid.