Ava’s pleading screams echoed in your head; you had freed the black box. As it sloshed around in the rising blood, you hoped that ironically placed life preserver secured with your hood would get it to where it needed to go. Your arm seared in pain as the four proximity alerts clicked furiously.

This was it. This was the end.

You stumbled back as a horrific rending noise was followed by bone spikes driving themselves through the rusty hull of your casket. A split second of shock at the sight wasn’t enough to stop blind rage and spite bubbling up into your chest, replacing terror and anguish—if that thing was going to take you down, you weren’t going without a fight.

Before you could loose a battlecry, an enormous clang rattled the top of the rustbucket’s hull, startling you . That sounded like metal on metal , the thought stopped you in your tracks.

The ship lurched upward violently sending you to the floor at its suddenness. Had something else grabbed onto the sub? Akin to the fish and the tow ship playing tug-of-war previously, before the chain snapped and sent you tumbling into that cave system, once again the ship was wrenched this way and that, being yanked about like children fighting over a toy. The motion tossed you to and fro about the floor, careening your right thigh into the chair stand, your head narrowly missing the corner of the control panel.

YOU CANNOT ESCAPE YOUR FATE, SIMON

The cacophony of voices filled your head, making it feel like it would explode from the pressure. You could hardly pay attention to it as the blood filling the belly of the ship rushed over you, given motion by the thrashing of the opposing forces influencing themselves upon the tin can. The blood burned your skin, white hot on the exposed muscle from where you’d freed your arm. Your brain hadn’t quite caught up with the state of your left arm, as you attempted to grasp at anything in an attempt to stop sliding around with your missing hand. Your good hand found purchase in the grating on the floor, camera side, giving you some stability in the tossing and churning, and in an attempt to turn your face away from the waves of blood overtaking you, a lucky glance at the depth gauge showed that the taunting green light was ascending?

The hull creaked and moaned under the immense pressure, more even than it had in the deepest depths of the blood ocean. It sounded ready to give way, at the front, where the bones—teeth? still held purchase.

HUMANITY IS DEAD. YOU CANNOT BE SAVED. THE LIGHT—

The voices suddenly screamed simultaneously in pain—a far different sound than the previous anguish and rage—as the unmistakable sound of an explosion rattled the tin can, along with your bones. The thrashing diminished in it’s ferocity—was the fish no longer fighting? The hull groaned, sounding ready to burst, but instead of the sound being that of it rending inward, it sounded like it was being rent outward. The voices screamed impossibly louder;

NO. NO!!

You watched the green light of the depth gauge ascended faster.

Then, the speaker crackled, and the indicator light flickered, catching your eye.

“F-re agai—!!” came the voice you recognized as the first mate, broken up by the bad connection.

The bones intruding the ship seemed reluctant to let loose, but they were inching their way out by the second.

“Hold on, Captain!!” the speaker barked just in time for another explosion to pass it’s shock wave through the ship, making it ever more difficult for you to keep your hold on the grating.

With another hauntingly omnipresent scream, the bones loosed themselves from the hull with a sickening scraping sound, allowing a torrent of blood to flow into the cabin.

THE LIGHT CHOSE YOU, SIMON

The voices seemed to retreat, ominous as their words were.

With the now steady momentum making it possible and the incoming tide threatening to drown you, you pushed yourself to your feet, holding onto the metal piping with a death grasp that the slippery yet sticky blood made nigh impossible. Your newly bashed leg ached, mirroring the stabbing pain in your ribs from the previous beatings from being flung around. “Get—Get me out of here!!” Your voice was shaky, pleading. You looked to the speaker—it was saturated in blood, coated in the fleshy growths. No way that thing was working anymore, so you impatiently turned instead to watch the depth gauge.

The ascension made your eardrums hurt. The blood in the belly of the ship reached your thighs as the gauge read 3/4ths.

Soon, the steady pull turned into a lurching yank, and you moved to hug the pipe for stability. It wasn’t long until you could hear the crank of the winch from the tow ship, and shortly after that, the inflow of blood reversed, and it began instead to recede.

“Fuck, it’s the ‘13—!” Deeply muffled by the thickness of the hull, and hardly audible over the sound of the blood draining from ship came a voice you barely recognized as one of theship’s crew.

“Open it regardless! Convict, do you hear me? Are you alive!?” came the first mate’s voice, sounding strained from shouting orders.

“I’m here!” your voice cracked as you strained to shout over the pain and the thunderous rushing of blood.

“Get it open, NOW!” the first mate’s voice barked to the crew. Didn’t Ava call him David? Or was that a hallucination..?

Unlike the first time they pulled you up, they didn’t kill the power to the ship. Still, you could catch movement beyond the ruined hull through the puncture holes, and starting from one on the opposite side of the ship from you, a blow torch’s flame lit up the dreary cabin.

Adrenaline from the encounter wearing off, you carefully sunk to the floor as a second blow torch flame pierced through the rust bucket’s side. The pain in the remainder of your arm made you whimper, now that there was room in your brain to process the sensation, and you could hear David(?)’s voice commanding the crew to work faster. Being reminded of the pain made you realize how hard you were breathing—and that breathing was easy, now. Right. There was air on the tow ship.. The increased air intake helped clear your head further, making your brain very aware of all the aches and pains accumulated over the whole of the ordeal. Everything hurt, and while your left arm was the loudest, closely following behind it was the deep rot in your right forearm. The clarity amplified the pain as seconds ticked by, squeezing tears from your eyes and loosing louder cries from your chest. It took everything in your force of will to not hold your stump with your good hand—some sliver of logic capable of screaming through the pain demanded that that was a bad idea right now, no matter how strong the instinct was to do so. You rested your head on the cooling metal of the pipe you leaned against, also realizing how good it felt to feel cold again.

Slowly, agonizingly so, the pair of blowtorch operators cut open a 2-by-2 meter hole in the hull. Watching it was like watching for a star’s light to finally fade away. As it neared completion, you forced yourself to your feet with an agonized sound, your legs nearly betraying you. When the new hatch was pulled open, several crew members rushed to step inside—then stopped immediately, frozen at the alien sight of the cabin. David’s vaguely familiar face got a peek inside and the color in his face flushed away quickly.

“All crew, in your hardvac suits, NOW,” he demanded. “That includes you, medical!”

You stumbled toward the opening—freedom. You had to catch yourself on the already broken chair, which thankfully held your weight one last time.

“Wait, wait—” David held up his hands toward you in a “stop” motion. “Let medical get geared up—what the fuck happened down there?”

You couldn’t stop, momentum was the only thing keeping you on your feet. “I—” You couldn’t get words out of your chest, everything hurt too much. The control console, slick, but sturdy, became your next crutch.

David moved aside to make room for other crew members as you reached the hole cut into the side of the sub. Two members of what you assumed had to be the medical team reached to aid you in stepping out, both in various degrees of having their hardvac suits put on correctly—you were somehow too quick for them.

“Fucking hell,” one of them muttered at the sight of you, but moved to help support your weight toward a gurney.

“Med bay, we need an operating suite prepped, stat,” the other spoke into a comms unit, bringing the stretcher closer and reaching to help guide you to sit on it.

“Operating suite?” you mimicked in a small voice.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” the first medic reassured. “We’re gonna have to patch up that arm.”

Somewhere in your subconscious you knew it was going to be way more than just what was left of your arm. Sitting on the stretcher, you got a glance back into the sub; it was even more alien than you thought, and the crew’s reaction to it was wholly justified. As the first medic inspected the remnant of your left arm, you overheard one of the other crew, in full hardvac suit, step into the sub and curse, voice modulated by their suit’s intercom, “What the fuck…”

The medic inspecting your arm mirrored the crew inside the sub, but quieter, seemingly more to themself; “What the fuck… ” The second medic peered over at what the first was looking at. “That alien growth… It’s completely covering the would-be wound. He’s not even bleeding…”

“That’ll reduce some of the urgency..” the second medic replied, sounding like they found a silver lining.

Being guided with gentle hands to lay on the gurney, a realization dawned on you: “The black box—” Fighting against the pain in order to get breath for words, you croaked, “I retrieved, the black box. It was floating around, it’s—It’s in the life preserver.”

“Find that black box,” David demanded to the two suited crew members. “Holy shit, convict. I don’t know how you did it, but. Good work.”

The med team moved to roll you away, walking quickly. You strained to hear the outcome of what was going on with the sub—an extremely muffled shout from within the hull declared: “I found it, sir.”

“Good, get it to the comps team, get that information off it.” David’s voice faded as you were rolled out of the hangar into the belly of the tow ship, vaguely recognizing it from when you were led through there to the sub in the first place. “Winch team, continue trawling for the SM-14. If the Captain’s still down there, we have to fi…”

“She’s dead…” you muttered as you were brought out of earshot, hardly above a breath. You let your eyes close, trying to focus on the sensation of being rolled down the hall, rather than on the overwhelming pain.

“Keep your strength,” one of the medics said placatingly, seeming not to have heard what you said, just that you had said something. “We’ll be in medical soon.”

“That thing got her,” you said louder, straining. “Ava’s dead. She was on comms with me when that thing got her. They’re looking for a wreckage.”

“What?” the medic said, sounding taken off guard.

The medic with a comms unit didn’t reply to you, but moved to toy with the device instead, then spoke into it, “Sir, the…” she hesitated. “The… patient, says the captain was killed by that monster.” Did the medic just call you “patient”? You couldn’t hear his reaction, only the medic’s. “He’s said that she was on comms with him when it killed her.” Another pause without context. “Yes, sir.”

You opened your eyes and looked to the medic, now afraid of what that news might bring down upon you.

“Acting-Captain would like to speak with you, when you’re out of surgery,” her voice was even, but gentle. “Rest, there’s nothing more that can be done now.”

Fear settled in the bottom of your stomach, and if you’d had anything to retch up, it would’ve come up, between the terror, pain, and nausea from hunger.

The med bay was small, but not unrightly so for a vessel of the tow ship’s size. The medics rolled you into the center of the room and left you there unceremoniously as they rushed to finish putting their hardvac suits on completely correctly, then to the edges of the facility to gather what you assumed were needed materials to prep you for surgery.

Exhaustion and blood loss was beginning to pull at your consciousness, and you didn’t get much of a good look around before your eyes drooped shut, now that you weren’t actively being fawned over. There was a curtained off section of the med bay, and a second’s thought about it made the memory smash you in the head like a hammer—it’d been so long ago now, proportionately, but the welder… The x-ray camera… Fuck. It made your heart sink.

Before a mental spiral could set in, one of the medics was back to your side, prompting you to open your eyes a sliver to watch; they had a pair of safety scissors like the ones in the sub in their hand, along with a hypodermic needle. Setting the scissors on the gurney beside you, they moved to gently touch your left shoulder with their freed hand.

“Pain killer, this should help cut off the neurons firing to your brain,” they said, their voice modulated by their hardvac suit’s intercom. “At least for a little while.”

You hardly registered the needle piercing your skin over the pain from the end of your arm. Hopefully that went into effect soon… “Thank you”, you muttered, hardly above a whisper as the pain took priority over your breath.

Putting the spent syringe aside, the medic then picked up the scissors and began to cut the clothes off of you, and concentrating on their work to help ignore the pain, you finally registered just how messed up you looked. Besides being wholly dyed a deep red, and the soggy stickiness of the garments still clinging to your skin, the cloth had been taken over by that fleshy alien growth in thick, grotesque patches. There was no saving that cloth, so there was no reason to argue about it being cut off of you.

The other medic came back, dragging along with her a hose, a set of towels in her other hand. “It’s probably going to be the most awkward shower of your life, but we need to get that blood off of you, for contamination concerns,” her voice, though also modulated by her suit, had a tinge of apology and playfulness.

“Did you go swimming in it​?” the first medic asked, mostly rhetorically, as they pulled the scraps of cloth away from your skin, making sure that none of it was firmly stuck to any wounds, and giving the gentlest of tugs to free the cloth where it was.

“Uh… yeah,” you couldn’t help but reply, trying to aid them by moving your limbs, only to be gently reprimanded and reminded to rest.

The second medic made a surprised sound, “Why?” She set the towels on a nearby counter, then returned to assist in removing your boots and socks.

“I had to get the black box… I thought I was a goner,” talking wasn’t helping you breathe, but it was helping to try and ignore the pain. “The sub was filling with blood.”

“That was insanely brave,” the first medic declared, offering a gloved hand to you to help you sit up.

You took it, bracing as they pulled you to sit upright. Your ribs screamed in protest. The second medic removed the remnants of your shirt from behind you, letting out a horrified breath at the sight. The first medic, continuing to support you, helped you shift your weight on the gurney so your trashed pants could be similarly discarded of. Freed of your clothing, you were suddenly extremely aware of how itchy you were, sticky blood and loose cloth fibers creating a horrible sensation all over your body.

The second medic turned on the hose as the first grabbed tattered old washing cloths from the pile. “Steady,” the second medic said, giving you mental warning before she turned the water stream to run over your skin. It was freezing, but after the initial shock, it felt amazing on your overheated skin. Both medics worked in tandem to scrub blood from your skin and body hair, pausing at intervals seemingly to take inventory of what wounds you had. You let them, your body finally losing it’s fight with continued consciousness.

You woke lying on cloth instead of the steel gurney you remembered resting on last. Opening your eyes in delirium, you also registered you were in a different part of the med bay.

Everything hurt still, but in new, and different ways. Grogginess left your brain sluggish and confused, so the sensations came in odd waves. You realized you were laying on your right side, figuring this out as you tried to move both arms, but found one unresponsive, and the other pinned beneath your weight. Unresponsive—? Oh, right. Duh, Simon. Your upper back was stiff, and trying to move your left shoulder tugged at the skin there in such a way that it felt like there was glue pasting your skin together.

A medic, this time not in a hardvac suit, rushed over to calm you; “You’re okay, you’re in the med bay, recovering from surgery.”

Surgery? you thought. How fucking exhausted were you that you slept through surgery? The tight, glue-like sensation on your back began to pinch and pulse angrily with your heartbeat, having aggravated it. That sensation brought others just like it to the forefront of your consciousness; your right arm, the one you could still feel, had the same sensation when you flexed your hand, and oddly, your face was tight and— was that bandaged too? What happened to your face?

“Whu’d y’ do t’ me?” you slurred, hardly recognizing your own voice.

“You had… extensive alien growths—no, more like.. tumors… all over your back and arms, and various places in between… We had to excise much of it, and use grafts from your thighs to cover much of the open wounds,” the medic responded carefully. Grafts, huh. That alone put the extent of the surgery into context. Now that she mentioned it, your brain registered a very dull, pounding pain from the graft harvest sites. “We were also required to do a lot of digging to excise the growths… You’re going to be in a lot of pain for a long time while you heal. Keep your strength, rest. You’re going to need it.”

“Why?” was all you could say, accusingly.

“Why?” she mimicked questioningly.

“Why.. all the surgery. Why fix me. They’re just gonna. Send me back down.” Seemed like a logical train of thought—they’d done it once before already, going back on their promises. “They just want me dead.”

The medic made a sympathetic sound. There was a pause, you assumed she was picking her words. “The anesthesia must have you confused… I don’t know the extent of your situation, but. As far as I’m aware… Your Realization has been completed. You are a valuable member of the Consolidation, of course we’re going to fix you up.”

Several trains of thought made their way into the forefront of your mind at her words, and trying to untangle any of them from another through the grogginess was too difficult, so instead you tried to actively use your eyes for the first time since you woke up, and focus on the medic’s face. She was giving you an understanding and sympathetic smile. Anesthesia? You were surprised that they even bothered to use anesthesia on you. That shit had to be rare, and to waste it on you? When was the last time you had been put under anesthesia? You couldn’t remember. Had you ever been? You recalled something about people’s brains being addled after waking from it, though… The Realization was a real program, not just an excuse to write off prisoners? “And what is a one-armed murderer any value of?” You couldn’t keep that one from slipping out of the mess of thoughts. Especially one that was going to take months of down time and already scarce medications to heal properly? And still never be truly useful?

She seemed taken aback. “I’m… not the one that can answer that. But.. I was informed of the weight of your actions, in the blood ocean. Whether they had been out of selfishness or selflessness, only you can define. But, they’re still actions that aided the Consolidation, and it only seems right to me that it fulfill your Realization.”

No amount of good you did on this moon could outweigh what tragedies you’d caused before, and you knew it, but there was no way to explain that to someone, even in a fully lucid state. Instead, you opted to stay quiet.

She seemed to sense the opposition, and gave you a resigned expression. “You have an IV drip of saline, nutrients, and pain killers in your left arm remnant. Please try to stay on your right side so that your back grafts can stabilize. Even if you don’t trust me.. isn’t it worth seeing if I’m being truthful?”

After all the times you’d been lied to in recent memory, it was hard to accept; but… if they had gone through all this trouble so far, just to sentence you to death, that didn’t make much sense either.

Hope had always been your strong suit.

“Let me know if your pain raises above this baseline. Or if the pain subsides enough to let you feel hungry, I can get you something to eat,” she offered. “I’m going to let Acting- aptain know you’re awake.”

“Thank you,” you muttered after her. As she walked away, your eyes fell to the inside of your right arm, and trailed up to your fingertips. The bandaging looked not much different than you’d triaged in the sub, but was far tighter and more professional. Trying to flex your fingers, they were like steel cables attempting to respond. You had to wonder how much damage was done by that rot, and if your remaining hand would ever be useful again. Your fingers themselves looked like they had water ripples carved into them. They were stiff and pinched when flexed, but not as much as your back—it looked like wounds had been glued together… The medic said something about cutting out alien growths, and it came back to you that it was probably remnants from when the fleshy growths had strung you up. Seems not even your right arm made it out of that unscathed.

The thought occurred to you, and you began to gently prod at your torso—was the damage only located on your upper body? Unceremoniously flinging up the blanket giving you privacy momentarily to duck your hand beneath it, you couldn’t feel any wounds or growths or patched spots anywhere, but also your range of motion wasn’t very good at the moment. Eventually the pain of aggravating the wounds on your arm made you give up.

Whatever bed they had you on wasn’t the most comfortable one you’d ever laid on, but it was better than the one in the COI’s prison. Laying down felt good, even with the background noise of the now severely dulled pain. At least the meds were working. Exhaustion gnawed at your consciousness even still, bringing back Ava’s words of how they’d lost contact with you for days.

The slurry of thoughts became a fog—it was painful to think, and the exhaustion lulled you closer to sleep with each passing second. Sleep sounded really good right now…

“Ah, shit, I think I just missed him.” The first mate’s voice prompted you to open your eyes. “Oh, or not. Welcome back to wakefulness,” he greeted, kicking a rolling chair over to sit beside your bed.

You closed your eyes again, not sure you had the energy to engage with what was going to be a painful conversation.

David(? that was his name, right? … Jack? No, that was the welder…) was quiet for several long moments. “Simon… right?” he said slowly, uncertainty in his tone. “That’s what you told the captain your name was?”

“Yes,” you croaked, then cleared your throat. “’N, you’re… David? I... think she said your name while on comms.”

“That’s me, yeah.” He was quiet for a while. “I have… a lot to apologize to you for, Simon. The Consolidation has a lot to make up to you, I want to make that crystal clear.”

You snorted in disbelief and defiance—couldn’t help it.

“No, really. You... did the impossible. And we… almost didn’t give you the chance to do it—we hooked you while looking for the Captain, but we didn’t realize that you were what we were actually looking for.”

You feigned sleep while he spoke, though, more accurately you fought sleep from overtaking you, trying to see if he was going anywhere with this.

“Our comps guys aren’t even done pulling, deencrypting, and processing the data on that black box, but it is a treasure trove of information. We wouldn’t have that without you. For your efforts, I need to apologize for what I’ve said.… I’ve been thinking a lot about the way we’ve treated you, none of it was right.”

“Would you still be apologizing to me, even if I hadn’t gotten the black box, and you’d fished me up?” You opened your heavy eyes to see his expression.

David’s face was hard to read—you were making him think even harder about something you weren’t sure how much he’d been thinking about. “Yes… Because even without it, you still fulfilled your Realization.”

You made a doubtful sound.

“Look. Nothing I can say will make what’s happened here, right. We’ve made mistakes. Just like you have. But, you’ve done a huge service to the Coalition—no, humanity, as a whole. You won’t understand until you see what’s in those files, and I’ll break chain of command myself to make sure you get to see what good you’ve done.”

Your brow furrowed. The fuck could possibly be on that computer?

“It’s classified, confidential. And confusing as fuck if I were to try and explain any of it to you without the files for context. And I’ve only seen a fraction of what they’ve pulled off of that black box, are in the process of pulling off of it. You saved the work of our top scientists—that’s what was on the SM-8. They had scanning functions and sampling devices we can’t make anymore, we thought their information was lost when they were.”

That was the only thing so far he’d said that made any sense. The desperation in Ava’s voice when you mentioned the SM-8, her pulling rank to fulfill their deal. “I heard one of the voice logs from the crew after my sub downloaded their files. I think they’d been stuck down there for a while before they died.”

“We haven’t recovered that log yet—God, hopefully not,” David replied, sounding a bit harrowed.

Had that been a hallucination…? “I recognized the voice on the log…” How much of it was a hallucination? Why are you telling him about a hallucination? “I think that monster … was … the scientist… It sounds insane, but. It spoke to me, in that voice. I thought for a while she was part of another crew you left down there…”

David’s face went white. He seemed to be tripping over words to say. “What. Happened… down there?”

You closed your eyes. “Hell.” You didn’t have the heart to tell him it also spoke to you in Ava’s voice.

You were both quiet for a long, long time.

“I should let you sleep—” he eventually sighed.

“How long was I down there, David? Tell me.” As good as sleep sounded, as addled as your brain was, there were things that weren’t adding up, and it seemed imperative for your brain to know.

“About five EIC days,” he answered after a pause to think.

“Why didn’t you leave when I disappeared?” You were a deadman; what made their orders change to hold and observe? Fuckers.

“… Council’s orders. It’s protocol for us to make every effort to retrieve the hemorover before writing it off as a loss. We were scanning for the ship the entire time, waiting to see if the churning of the ocean floor would make it accessible for retrieval.” His voice sounded tired, and relinquished. “How the fuck did you survive down there that long…?” It wasn’t a question directed at you, but it still felt accusatory.

“You’re the one with technology to tell me that,” you grumbled.

He chuckled.

“How am I alive? The oxygen meter went up while I was trying to outrun that monster and get to the rendezvous point.”

“I— I have no idea. Hopefully the black box will give us some answers.” He moved to stand. “I’m going to let you rest, obviously you’ve been through a lot. I’m going to try and get in touch with a psychologist back on Derin Station, see if we can’t get a relay patched through to let you speak to someone about it.”

You opened your eyes to look at him, brows furrowing in question.

“You’re one of us now, Simon. You deserve the same healthcare the rest of us get—that includes brain healthcare. We’ll be stuck here on this moon for a while, searching for the captain, so a relay is the best I can do for now.”

As he turned to leave, you thought of one more thing he could answer; “Hey,” he stopped and turned back to you, “what’s… going on with the sub. That thing was fucked up. Inside of it, I mean.”

David’s gaze went long for a few moments. “Our scientists are analyzing it, too. And, the growths that the surgical team pulled off of you. It’s way too early for any conclusions though.” His eyes seemed to burn into you. “I know you don’t know but. What the fuck happened to you down there?”

“I.. think you saved me from Ava’s fate,” was the best thing you could think of to say.

David’s jaw set tight. He nodded, then turned to head out. Your consciousness followed him shortly thereafter.

Moving shadows and toothy monsters hovering over you when you awoke, followed you onto the tow ship. The medics, who had eventually introduced themselves as Kerry and Ianthe, assured you that it was due to the multiple concussions you had sustained from being flung about the sub like a ragdoll. They had their work cut out for them, as each time one of the hallucinations manifested, it was just as real as the teeth of the fish intruding into the sub, and they had run over to either calm you down, or physically restrain you so as to not let you rip off your grafts. They weren’t even allowed to leave you by yourself—you’d lost count of how many times they’d awoken you from a nightmare, where you had been thrashing and crying out in your sleep. Several times they’d apologized as antipsychotic medications weren’t standard issue in outpost medical kits, wishing they could help you better.

Time was an enigma in the tow ship’s medical bay, and it was difficult to tell how long you’d been there. The way the medics spoke referenced multiple days passing, but your time was mostly spent sleeping, having bandages changed, and being jumped by imaginary monsters. David had made good on his word, and gotten a psychologist from one of the COI’s stations to patch in and speak with you, who began the difficult task of helping you untangle what had been real in that sub, and what had been hallucinations.

David himself came down every so often to update you on the scientists’ findings. One time that he caught you, Kerry had you sitting up for a bandage change and a bit of physical therapy. He had a tablet stowed under his arm, and he moved with purpose into the med bay.

“Do I need to leave, sir?” Kerry asked him as he flipped through files on the tablet.

“No, I’m already breaking protocol by showing Simon this, so what’s one more person,” he said with a tinge of humor in his otherwise quite serious tone. “The council can bite me if they get wind of it.” He handed you the tablet shortly thereafter. “The comps team found the voice logs you were talking about. They’re… harrowing. What’s worse, is the logs are backed up by the data the ‘8 gathered. Take a glance.”

The tablet was big, forcing you to hold it on your lap to be able to stabilize it and scroll through the files with just one hand. The data on the screen was neatly arranged graphs and tables, things you weren’t super great at interpreting without a liaison. What stood out, and even you could pick out with your limited knowledge, was key words from the accompanying summaries; the voice log you heard from the SM-8, something about one of the researchers consuming the ocean blood, was in the document. There was a chemical analysis and breakdown of the blood from the ocean, confirming it to be molecularly human blood, as well as a summary of observations the researchers had during their time stuck down on the bottom of the ocean. Symptoms you experienced, the mutations, puking blood, hallucinations, were all documented by the research team to be happening to the one that was voluntarily consuming the blood. There was a small notation that the penning researcher believed the “voluntary”, was not truly voluntary, but compulsory, addiction-like. But you hadn’t been consuming it—at least, you couldn’t remember doing so… Was it just enough that it touched your skin? Or was it blood to wound contacts that caused your issues?

“I think… you were right… when you said, that we saved you from Ava’s fate...” David eventually spoke up, after allowing you a good chunk of time to process the information before you.

“What are you saying?” you asked, looking up at him.

“This is just one of hundreds of documents on the properties of the blood ocean; comps is still piecing them together into a usable dataset. This one, I told them to focus on, since you could back it up.” He paused, thinking of how he wanted to word his next sentence. “I also think you were right, in saying that that monster... was that researcher. Science got results back on the alien growths taken from you; it’s recognizably your DNA, but scrambled with significant markers of the blood from the ocean. Prevailing theory right now is the blood in the ocean is a carcinogen, but somehow, a stable one that doesn’t kill, but, mutates “beneficially”. Samples of the alien growth taken from the hemorover support the theory.”

Kerry’s work on changing your bandages had stopped several sentences ago, their shock visible on their face. “How…?”

“We’re not sure yet. One other factor of note; the growths inside the hemorover, came back with recognizable DNA samples that matched several DNA samples in the Consolidation’s records: several of the SM-8 researchers, several folks that are not associated with the SM-8, and Captain Ava.”

“It’s… subsuming the people it kills?” you asked, near breathlessly at the conclusion.

“It seems so…” he had a stoic emotion on his face, but it betrayed that he was putting it on like a mask, as if he hadn’t had the chance to steel himself at the thought yet.

Movement behind David caught your eye. Something had crept in from the main door to the med bay, and had swept back toward where the doorway to surgical was.

“How is that the only living thing we’ve discovered since the Quiet Rapture?” Kerry couldn’t help but ask.

You moved to look over Kerry’s shoulder to see where the figure went. Both Kerry and David watched you with questioning on their faces—but Kerry seemed to recognize what was going on, and they looked back at David for his response.

David looked to Kerry questioningly, and seeing they weren’t concerned, continued, “It’s not.” He reached over to scroll through files on the tablet in your lap. He overshot it by a few, and scrolled back.

Kerry bent over into your personal space, dragging your attention back to what was going on, so they could read along with you. This file was more charts and data tables, but this one was clearer at what it was depicting: seismic information on the floor of the blood ocean, volumetric pressure of the blood that made up the ocean, and higher powered penetrating scans that made it through the “sea floor” of the ocean, along with evidential samples, depicted the moon you were on as not a mass of rock, but of flesh. Human flesh. The ocean’s surface was described as an open wound in the skin of the entity, and the oceans, plural (there was more than one?), were akin to a reservoir of blood that oxygenated the body of the moon, evidenced by the flow of the blood through the cave system where you had been dropped into when the fish snapped the tow cable, where you’d found the SM-8 just outside of. Except it wasn’t a cave, it was veins. The upheaval and churning of the “ocean floor” wasn’t the ocean being fickle, it was the “body” of the moon reacting to stimuli invading it’s circulatory system.

“What the fuck…” you whispered.

“There’s more, but… This is the summary of it,” David said evenly, as if he had been able to process and compartmentalize this information already.

“We’re on… a mass of human flesh, filled with human blood… that mutates humans into nonhuman forms?” Kerry breathed.

I told you, you had done a great thing for all of humanity, Simon,” David said, his gaze hard upon you.

“How is this, great??” you asked, raising your voice, bewildered.

“It’s a step toward knowing what the fuck happened in the Quiet Rapture. This isn’t the only “moon” we’ve found like this. They’re no where near each other, in proximity, but this is the first one that has yielded results, and now that we know what they’re made of, it gives us clues.”

You shook your head, one of the things the fish had taunted you with floated to the top of your thoughts; it didn’t make sense at the time, still didn’t make any sense now, but felt relevant. “That monster… it taunted me while I was down there. Saying things like the cause of the Quiet Rapture was down there, but humans discovering it, knowing it, would cause the end of humanity—but that it was also the answer to humanity’s survival. ...It’s, like it was arguing with itself; it wanted so desperately to show it to me, but also protect me from it.”

You looked between Kerry and David; Kerry’s face betrayed that they weren’t sure how much of what you described was a hallucination, or real, based on how often they had to help ground you, and your actions just a few minutes ago. David’s face, however, was set—he seemed to believe you, probably based on files that he’d seen, but hadn’t shown you yet.

“What did you see down there?” David asked, point-blank.

You could only shake your head. You didn’t know. “I could tell you. I could… sit here talking for as many days as I was down there… and I don’t think even with the files you’re pulling off that black box, that you’d believe me. I don’t believe myself, right now. I… don’t know what was real, down there.”

“Something, anything, Simon. Try me,” he replied, with more insistence.

Your face screwed into a scowl, brows knitting—it hurt to do so, but it was a reflex you couldn’t avoid. You had to think—what was the most probable and real thing you could think of to give him? Out of a week of insanity? “Um… The.. monster gave me a set of coordinates. It wasn’t a set that was a point of interest, but it seemed insistent. I followed it, why, I couldn’t fucking say. There was a… light, of some sort. It was…. wrong. I had a massive hallucination about seeing, and being seen… A giant eye…. B—but I took a picture of it—the light. I don’t know if the sub saved that one.”

David reached for the tablet, and you let him have it. He scrolled furiously through the files, eventually finding what he was looking for and turning it back to you.

It was the picture you saw on the preview screen of The Light.

Your face went cold. You couldn’t help but nod. “That’s it.”

“The research team’s logs have a couple of long, rambling entries about “The Light”. Something about it being a fraction of the Quiet Rapture, and it being everything.. We initially wrote them off as a mental health break. But now.. I think you had a vision, rather than a hallucination.”

You stared at him, and him at you, for a long time—you didn’t know what to say to him, and apparently, he to you either. That revelation certainly didn’t help your inability to tell the difference between hallucination and reality, any, though.

David eventually heaved a sigh. “I need you to understand something, Simon. You’re the person we have that has any knowledge and experience with this situation. The blackbox files can back you up, anything you say, I’d bet. You’re not the only one who’s confused by the situation; we’re literally on the cutting edge of discoveries, so anything that you experienced down there has merit. Fuck, even your hallucinations do, because while you can’t tell if they were real or fake, neither can we. We have to treat them all as real. They’re evidence.”

You frowned, brow creasing in concern—it hurt to keep doing that, but you couldn’t help it. While it was consoling to know that what you’d been through was of worth and being taken seriously, a creeping dread leaked into your consciousness: you’d gone from human debris to most valuable person, on accident. You were never meant to be brought up from the bottom of that ocean, and yet, here you were, having gotten your freedom.

But, had you really?

He seemed to take your expression as a sign that you were contemplating his words. He shifted his weight and tucked the tablet back under his arm. “We’ve got another 12 hours or so, before we can write the SM-14 off as a loss. Especially with evidence that the captain is indeed dead… At that point, we’ll be contacting a vehicle transport to pick us up and take us back to Derin Station. It’ll be a few days until the transport reaches us. I’ll continue to bring you updates with data that we’ve put together, and hopefully you’ll be able to give us more information about what happened down there. But, you’re almost out of here.”

“I’m not… really free, am I?” you had to ask, pensively.

“You’re as free as me and Kerry are, in the grand scheme of things,” he replied, his voice taking on a light-hearted tone. “The council will probably hound you to detail everything you can remember, but, you’ll have your own apartment waiting for you back on the station, and will get to have integration classes and fill out a work questionnaire to figure out what you can or want to do for the Consolidation. Definitely get to work with a psychologist to sort out whatever the fuck happened down there. And, who knows, maybe the council will take you on as a consultant for the expedition division, considering the initiative and drive you’ve shown in doing this.”

Your jaw set, hard. You hadn’t even thought about what you’d do after Realization, as every waking second had been just getting through it. Initiative… Drive… Fancy words for “Survive”. It brought a sick churning to your stomach.

Whatever look you had on your face seemed to make him rethink his word choice, and his face took on an apologetic look. “Hey.. I.. don’t know what you did before ..uh, what landed you with us. But it’s all behind you now. This is mostly behind you. You’ve got a big future to look forward to; try thinking of what you wanna do with the rest of your life—it’ll help get your mind off of this.”

Kerry patted your knee. “He’s right. It’ll help ground you against your hallucinations to have a plan, something to think about that isn’t what happened.”

“I’ll let you get back to your work, doctor. And your rest, Simon,” David dismissed himself.

“Thank you,” you said after him, reflexively.

Kerry moved to continue your bandage change from where they left off—after having to remember where exactly that was. The nerve block to the remainder of your left arm decided to wear off at the exact moment they began unwrapping the bandaging there, the piercing, ripping sensation drawing an agonized hiss from between your gritted teeth.

“Whoops, let’s get you some more pain meds,” they said, immediately dropping their current task. “Was that the nerve block, or general meds?”

“N-nerve block,” you groaned, trying to catch your breath.

They returned in quick order with a syringe, the stick of the needle much more casual after having gotten it possibly dozens of times so far—you’d lost count long ago. The familiar feeling of numbness washed over the area, replacing the burning pain with first pins and needles, then nothingness—at first, the emptiness had been foreign, disconcerting, but you’d gotten accustomed to it. The emptiness, you could tell, was your brain unhealthily registering the absence of your arm. Ianthe had reassured you it would take time, but your brain would come to accept it—for the most part. With the pain deadened, you were able to catch your breath, and Kerry resumed their work after watching to make sure that you were okay.

“Hey,” you eventually broke the silence between the two of you. “What’s… What’s life like on Derin Station?”

Kerry continued their work as they contemplated your question. “I was going to say, ‘like any other station’, but then I realized you’re from Eden, aren’t you?”

You nodded.

They made a contemplative noise as they seemingly had to pick out details of what was normal to them, but had no idea if you had ever encountered before. “It’s quiet. It’s busy. People are working, relaxing when not working. There’s community spaces on the first ring, offices and maintenance on the second ring, apartments on the third, agriculture on the fourth, and the gravity is centrifugal. The intranet is pretty robust, unlike some other, smaller, stations in the Coalition.”

“Community spaces?” you asked, unsure what they meant by that.

“Sure,” they replied casually, as if they thought you simply were confirming what they’d said. A glance to your face made them realize that you had been actually asking them about it. “Oh. Like, places for folks to gather and sit and meet to chat during downtime. Food stands where folks prepare different types of dishes from the yields in hydroponics. Trading booths where resourceful folks can trade materials for other needs… Did, Eden not have something like that?”

You shook your head, thinking about the concepts they described. “No we… They are much more militant. Meals provided in designated areas at specific times. Assigned personal spaces and clan lodgings, with clan-specific spaces; there are mass-gathering areasfor ceremonies, but are only used then. Needs are provided for by clan leaders as they come up, anything that ends up excess goes back to the clan leaders.”

“That sounds… stifling,” they stated, putting the finishing touches on your left arm bandage.

You shrugged. It was all you’d ever known. “What you described sounds like chaos. Folks can just, take food whenever?”

They gave you a defeated smile. “Not to the extent you’re thinking of, but, for the most part, yes. On station, caloric intake is expected to be tracked by each person on a personal intranet interface—you’ll learn more about it in integration, but you’ll have to take note of what you eat, and supplemental vitamins will be recommended for your body composition by the tracking program. Excessive caloric intake will get you a stern talking to, and infractions for repeated offenses. The system has it’s own way of balancing itself out.”

“Personal intranet interface…?” you mimicked, though questioningly.

“Does Eden have an intranet?” They gestured for you to gather up your hair and move it aside, before they began to remove the bandaging on your right shoulder and chest.

“Maybe…?” You did so, slinging it over your left shoulder, turning your head to the right to keep it there, and to watch the medic’s busywork.

“An interconnected network of communications between people and a central hub of information?”

“We have interconnected comms units, and some of the upper echelon, like clan leaders and their subordinates, have personal tablets, purely for communication with security and station leadership. I think clan leaders might have access to something like a ‘central hub of information’, but I was…” you trailed off, trying to think of how to describe your position in the hierarchy. “Special forces, within security, and, didn’t interact much with the general folk.”

They seemed to digest this as they inspected your back graft. “Did you have a personal tablet?”

“I didn’t. I used one that was assigned to me for my duties, and only then.”

Movement across the med bay caught your attention again, your head snapping up toward the area to watch it carefully. You could make out the silhouette of the toothy monster that usually hovered over you, hanging out in the shadows caused by the two rooms’ lighting intersecting near the doorway. Your breath hitched, and you could feel Kerry looking over your shoulder to where your attention was.

Their hand gently pressed into your shoulder to ground you. “This will be similar, but you get to keep it. It’ll be a lifeline for you to interface with much of the Coalition’s data,” they said, using the continuation of the conversation to try and keep you in reality.

You closed your eyes and focused on their hand and words, trying desperately to forget what you saw, to convince your brain it wasn’t real. You took a few deep breaths, then made a contemplating noise at their words as they moved to continue their work, poking and prodding at your back. “Are there… any ceremonies to know about?”

“Not really,” they replied, moving to begin rewrapping your wounds. “I think that’s something the Consolidation’s missing… So many folks in the Coalition have sticks up their asses and could use a good celebration every once in a while.”

“Not much to celebrate, huh,” you said, just barely above a mutter.

“There may be, soon, though. Depending on just what you found down in that ocean,” a tinge of hope seemed to fill Kerry’s tone.

You sat with that as they finished up wrapping your chest, and through them moving on to your right arm bandaging. And then even onto your legs. You allowed yourself to open your eyes once the initial wave of paranoia passed, but low-level fear continued to worm its way around your consciousness, keeping your eyes mostly trained near where the figure had stood but was now gone. You both were quiet as they finished up, they took records on their tablet, then released you from their fussing with a reminder to let them know if you were hungry.

You thanked them reflexively and watched as they wandered off to do other tasks, content to sit up and think about what they had told you—and keep an eye on the shadows. You weren’t even there yet and the culture shock was startling. Integration classes, huh? Sounded like those would be useful. Integration… How would a Butcher like you ever integrate into such a different world? It made you wonder how far would your moniker follow you? Was passing your Realization enough to wipe your slate completely clean with the COI? Would the general populous know about it? A work questionnaire… Would your past follow you there? What work could you even do for the COI?

Eventually, you gently moved to lay yourself back onto your right side, trying not to pull any of your grafts. Thinking too hard and too long still stressed your wounded brain, and a good sleep sounded like just the thing you needed after all the information that you’d been given in the past hour.

The ship lurching nearly sent you tumbling off your bed.

SIMON

Panic sank into the very depths of your bones at the cacophony of voices reentering your head. Panic was never a good way to wake up, but neither was being thrown from your bunk—both? Awful. Confusion and terror filled your new wakefulness, but a different voice muttered gently into your ear; “Get down, Simon. Get onto the floor safely before you’re tossed from the bed.”

Painful ribs and healing graft-donation sites protested as you swung your legs down, then got low to the floor to brace for another impact, a clatter coming from nearby as you did so. Why didn’t you move like this in the fucking sub? Your subconscious ridiculed your consciousness. Could’ve saved you a couple concussions maybe. Actually, what was that voice just now?

Getting your bearings, you could hear Ianthe swearing from across the med bay and scrambling to her feet. Kerry was shouting from another subsection, somewhere that sounded attached but far away. There were oddly no klaxons, but just as you’d thought of that, David’s voice came over the intercom: “All personnel, brace for combat. That monster’s circling the ship.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Simon, are you okay?” Ianthe called, seeing you on the floor.

“Bracing for impact—” you replied, just in time for another jolt to rock through the hull of the ship.

THE LIGHT BECKONS YOU, SIMON

A familiar, but much more suppressed explosion shock wave passed through the ship’s hull, rattling your teeth. The monster’ s scream reverberated hollowly in your head, as though it were trying to take you with it.

YOU CANNOT ESCAPE THIS TIME!!

The voices were furious, pain evident in the tone. The ship rocked, feeling as though there was an impact, but not an outright slam by the creature. Did it bite the tow ship—?

“All hands, there’s been a hull breach in cargo sector 4,” came an unfamiliar voice over the intercom—thankfully, it wasn't automated.

Your chest shuddered, causing your breath to shake. Not again.

The ship jerked in a new way, the floor feeling like it was going to fall out from under you. Was it trying to pull the whole tow ship under? Another shock wave passed through the ship, garnering another scream from the creature, but this time, it sounded determined, desperate. Another jerk downward followed.

“What the FUCK is going on out there?” Kerry shouted, suddenly in the doorway of the med bay, somehow keeping their footing in the tug-of-war motions.

“How many warheads does this thing have?” you asked—it wasn’t a real question of the medics, but it certainly sounded like it leaving your mouth. Four, so far, by your count—two to scare it off while retrieving you, two now… Hopefully more.

“I don’ t know—” both medics said simultaneously.

Another explosion.

NO. NO!!

The voices sounded like they were fading, the tugging on the ship lessening.

“What the FUCK was that sound?” Kerry swore, holding onto the door frame for stability.

Your head and eyes snapped to them. “You heard it too?”

WE. WILL. ASCEND. AND YOU WITH US!!

“Was that Captain Ava?” Ianthe breathed.

So the monster wasn't just speaking to you this time. “It’s the monster. I heard it like this in the sub too—”

She looked at you, horror on her face. The monster screamed again, this time sounding as though it were out of breath.

“No wonder you’ve been having nightmares,” Kerry remarked dryly.

“That thing. Stalked me. For days,” you growled. “Yeah. I’d think I’d have nightmares.”

“Medical, come in Medical,” David’s voice came over the loud speaker.

Kerry skated across the floor as another tug from the monster rocked the ship. They hit the far wall with a sound that knocked the breath out of them, but they reached for the intercom and slapped it. “Go, Medical.”

“Confirm with Simon, what the Fuck is that sound?”

“That’s the monster!” you called toward where Kerry stood, setting your jaw against the pain in your ribs from the effort.

“Confirm, that’s the monster?”

“Confirm, that’s the monster,” Kerry repeated.

“We have it on a harpoon tether. We’re going to shoot this fucker til it stops moving. Hold tight.”

“Were they fucking prepared for this to happen?” you asked incredulously.

“Sort of,” Kerry replied.

Another explosion vibrated the ship. The monster’s cries were weak, and it’s thrashing became more chaotic, tugging the ship with small and uneven undulations.

“How much did you fuckers know about this ocean before you sent me down there??” you barked, pissed now.

“We’re not privvy to all the details, Simon, but we were made aware that there were hostiles,” Ianthe said, her voice soft and understanding, trying to calm you.

“We didn’t know what the hostiles were, just, to be prepared for anything,” Kerry continued. “I don’t know if David knows more than that. We certainly weren’t expecting this.”

“The only living thing besides us in all of space, and the COI managed to unknowingly send their research ship with more than five warheads, and they were all needed??” your growl was sarcastic, and mostly rhetorical, as you knew they didn’t know, and agreed with you. But, pissed as you were, that anger had to vent somehow.

THE LIGHT… WE SEE YOU…. NO… THAT IS NOT….

No one in the med bay breathed, waiting for more words that never came. Ianthe gently stood from where she’d been seated and clinging to a doorway, steeling herself for more tremors to come, that never did.

“All deck crew not triaging the hull in cargo 4, hardvac up and report to cargo 2,” came David’s voice over the loud speaker.

“Is it… over?” you couldn’t help but breathe.

As both Ianthe and Kerry came over to help you back to your feet, movement in the doorway to the med bay caught your attention. Clear as starlight and uncloaked by shadow, the toothy monster that constantly hounded you stepped into the room. Your reaction must have caught the medics’ attention, as both paused to look at where your attention was.

The monster stepped toward you menacingly, and you tried to scramble back, only to be stopped by backing into where Kerry stood. Ianthe moved to stoop down in between you and the monster, trying to calm you, but in your panicked state, you forced yourself into a sitting position and looked around her mass—it was gone.

You breathed heavily out of fear. It wasn’t enough the fucking fish monster was after you, that thing had to be too. At least the fish monster seemed to be dead now. Was that thing after you now to avenge it?

Gently, the medics coaxed and assisted you onto your feet, and then back onto your bed. Your body pinched and pulsed and cried against the pain of it, and you couldn’t help but whimper as the pain overtook the panic in your brain. “I.. I think I moved too fast getting down… I fucked something up.”

Ianthe gently shushed you and moved to help you lay back down. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t hurt after that. Hell, I hurt.”

“I’ll check your records and see when you got pain meds last, see if that isn’t the reason,” Kerry declared.

“Medical, come in Medical,” came the loud speaker again.

Kerry moved over to slap the intercom button. “Go, Medical.”

“Is Simon in any shape to move? You guys need to see this thing in person,” David sounded insistent.

“Negative, sir. Can you project a live feed to one of our PII?”

“If he’s awake, he has to see this thing, I swear to fuck.”

“Can we get him some pain meds first at least?” Kerry sounded irritated for you.

“Uh, what happened down there?”

“Got tossed around, no new injuries though—I think?” they questioned, looking to you.

“Uh, I don’t think so?” you replied. “At least it wasn't like in the sub.”

“We’ll need to put this thing on ice real soon, so don’t take too long.”

“Ice?” you mimicked. “How the fuck do you have ice on this ship?”

“Compressed CO2 isn’t that hard to keep under pressure and recycle to repressurize. I’m just glad we have as much as we do. We’re going to need it—just wait til you see this thing,” David replied, evidently having heard you. You shook your head, evidence that the COI knew what was down there mounting. “Come down to the observation deck for cargo 2. Don’t try going into the cargo area. External airlock is open and internals are engaged.”

“The airlock is open? No wonder the call for hardvac suits,” Kerry wondered aloud.

“That and also contact with alien matter, you know the protocol,” David responded.

Kerry shook their head and moved to the computer to pull up your file. “Meds can be refreshed soon, it won't hurt to give them early, especially if David is so insistent on moving you,” they declared.

You groaned at the idea of getting backup, but reached toward Ianthe to allow her to help you sit up. “Let’s see this thing that tried to eat me…”

“And us,” Kerry said dryly, coming over with a syringe. Ianthe snorted as she moved away to get the gurney. “I’m going to give you this bumper now, and then when we get back I’ll change out your IV to refresh the drip.”

You nodded quietly as they gave you the poke. They paused as they looked over your left arm remnant, then looked around the bed area. Curiously, you watched as they snickered. “Simon, you ripped your IV out hitting the deck,” they laughed as they moved to pick up the IV stand.

“Oops, sorry...”

“It’s a wonder you didn’t bleed all over,” they said, jokingly.

“What happened?” Ianthe asked, wheeling the gurney over.

“Simon’s disrespecting the medical equipment,” Kerry joked outright.

“I forgot it was there,” you retorted, tone apologetic.

“Ripped out your IV? I’m surprised you didn’t feel that,” Ianthe said incredulously.

“Over all the other pain I have right now? Not even a needle stick feels like anything,” you retorted dryly.

She gave you an apologetic face and offered to help you up. With Kerry’s assistance, the pair got you up and onto the gurney. Everythinghurt, but they did their best to reduce the amount of inflicted pain just by moving. Once they got you settled in, Kerry moved to roll you out of the med bay for the first time since you arrived, Ianthe accompanying to see what David was on about.

They took a turn down a hall that you didn’t recognize, but then again, you’d only seen one of the hangars on the ship. There was at least 4, based on the announcement earlier; how big was this vessel? After a droning amount of time traveling down empty and repetitive hallways, Ianthe stopped at a door ahead of you, and pulled it open. Kerry rolled you into a large room with floor to ceiling windows, the glass thick, but not much else in the room. There was a tension in the air that came from being on the pressurized side of a wall that had vacuum on the other.

Through the glass windows you could see down into the cargo hangar, an absolutely massive one judging by the people milling around on the ground floor looking like specks—especially beside the reason the hangar’s airlock was still open. Kerry swore in a language you didn’t recognize, and Ianthe gasped. “Fuck me…” you swore, letting a good look at the monster.

Though, that was an overstatement; there was no “getting a good look” at that creature. You looked, and looked, and every centimeter of it got worse the longer you tried to comprehend what you were seeing. The harpoon was sticking out of it’s side, evidently it had been reeled in after it stopped fighting by the anchor point, and even the harpoon, as large as it had to be to be able to be seen from the observation deck, was dwarfed by the creature’s sheer size. The long, sock-shaped entity had been strung up by the deck crew to support it’s weight and pull it further into the hangar, but it was so large and long, that it took up most of the cargo bay, and the end of it’s body was still hanging out and below into the blood ocean. You could see far below, specks of deck crew using a winch to try and pull the rest of it’s massive body into the cargo bay, meticulously so by winding itself back onto itself on the bay floor. Where it was strung up, there was a massive head made up of the impression of multiple human-shaped skulls hanging limply to one side, it’s jaw swung open to display the “teeth” that you assumed had pierced through the sub; and judging by your memory versus the image of the creature below you, it had only used a fraction of how many there were—and a fraction of their total length. As horrific as it was to finally see the face of your aggressor in the flesh, it only got worse as your eyes trailed down the creature’s body. There were protuberances dotting along the length, that, looking closely, looked like human arms and legs… The creature had craters of it’s flesh destroyed, no doubt the work of the multiple warheads it had taken to kill it. Its blood, if it truly had any of its own, mixed with the blood from the ocean dripping off its body, making it hard to tell where, if, its blood ended, and the ocean’s began.

”What the fuck…” Ianthe breathed. It was hard to say anything. You’d only seen that thing using x-rays, and as horrific as it had looked on that preview screen, nothing could compare it to seeing it in the flesh. No wonder David had been so insistent in you coming down here... Ianthe reached for her comms unit. “David.”

In the quiet of the room, the stillness of the pressure versus void tension, you could barely hear his voice return over the comms unit in her ear; “I read you.”

“What the fuck.” It was strange to hear Ianthe swear, let alone with such emphasis behind it.

There was a pause, then laughter as he must have realized who was talking and why the reaction. The intercom in the observation dock crackled on. “I told you that was something you’d need to see for yourself.”

Kerry stepped over to activate the room’s side of the intercom. “How the fuck do you sound so nonchalant about this.”

“I watched it be pulled up, in all its gory glory. Wish you could have seen that, because half the deck hands lost their nerve and scattered upon seeing it. We had to run bioscans to make sure it was dead to get most of them to come back. I had to load up the x-rays of the fucker to compare out of morbid curiosity and, fuck. Simon how the hell did you not die of fear down there. That thing’s horrifying.”

You snorted. In honesty, you weren’t sure how you didn’t keel over from exhaustion just by being scared the entire time you’d known it was stalking you.

“Science is running samples as we speak. I’ll bring the results down when we have a better idea of what’s going on with it.”

“Take me back,” you said quietly. “Now I’m going to have more nightmares…”

The helm of the tow ship was a heavily fortified bunker lined with glass windows on the top level of the ship, offering a truly staggering view of the blood ocean and space beyond it. David had requested your presence be there when the vehicle transport arrived. Ianthe had assisted you into what seemed to be a standard issue COI jumpsuit since your clothing had been beyond trashed, and then accompanied you up to the helm. For the first time since being cut free of the rust bucket, you were sitting up in a real chair, which felt good, considering you didn’t have much of a choice in sitting and laying positions with the injuries you had.

You leaned over a war table, not unlike ones you were used to back home, but the COI had put a real projection unit in the center of this table. For an outpost? Fancy fuckers. David stood beside the table, messing with the projections. They cycled between statuses on the tow ship, and a countdown to the vehicle transport ship’s arrival. Cargo 2’s status claimed “Stable”, with a rapidly changing percentage between 98% and 99.3%—you could only imagine that was monitoring the CO2 holding the monster’s corpse at a steady temperature. Cargo 4’s status also claimed “Stable”, but it also displayed “Airlocks Engaged” in red beside it, with the percentage holding at 99.98%—there must’ve been a minuscule leak somewhere that one of the crew wasn't able to patch up from the monster’s attack on the ship.

A tablet in front of you that David had let you see, had files open that detailed Science’s findings on the monster carcass. This document was easy enough for you to parse, as it was mostly scientific jargon and not as many graphs or charts; genetic sampling returned the monster’s DNA as that of someone named Elle, a scientist that had been present on the SM-8, but only about 70% of it was a perfect match. Another 28% matched the ocean’s blood itself, lending stark evidence toward your theory that the monster was one of the researchers—the last 2% of it was coming back as other COI members’ DNA, but there was a notation mentioning that this most minuscule of a result was also likely a rounding error, a horrifying but still important distinction.

The countdown ticked to 00:15:45, then 00:15:44, then 00:15:43, before it changed again to cycle through statuses. In the distance, an enormous space ship grew imperceptibly closer, a hangar opening on the belly of the ship as a set of docking arms peeked through and moved down, slowly, into a ready position.

“I wanted you to be able to see the docking procedure; wasn’t sure if you’d ever gotten to experience anything like it, and I’ve got some information I need to share with you before we join up with the transport team,” David broke the silence, still messing with the projection table.

You shook your head, “No, nothing to this scale… It’s just gonna, reach down to pick up the whole ship?”

“Yep. Trust me, though, this is the fun part; getting set down on the surface of the ocean is the shitty part,” he said with mirth in his tone. “So. As for what’s going to happen when we’re fully docked; I need to bring you with me to meet the council—well. One of them.”

“Why?” you turned your attention to him from watching the incoming vehicle transport ship.

“Gotta process your Realization officially with the council, then you never have to see my ugly mug again. Well, unless they decide to assign you to me, which I better fucking hope not. For your sake. They might though, being our new expert on this forsaken hellhole, and depending on what and how much info we got off that black box, at least I might be coming back.”

Your jaw set, brow furrowed. Get sent back with another convict for Realization execution, he meant. He caught the look on your face, seemingly able to catch what you were thinking. “Hopefully not though. Fingers crossed everything comps pulled off that black box is enough to scare the council off any ideas of coming back.”

You looked back and stared out the window, watching the vehicle transport, not trusting yourself not to say something stupid if you opened your mouth.

00:12:32. 00:12:31. 00:12:30. The vehicle transport’s docking arms spread into a catching motion as the ship got close.

David was quiet for a bit, before awkwardly continuing what he was trying to say. “Once you’re processed, it’s likely that they’re going to have you staying in medical on the VTS until we get to Derin, considering you’ve been eating us out of pain meds for almost two weeks,” he said with an obviously joking tone. “I don’t know beyond that what you’re up against… It’ll be a few days of FTLT until we get to Derin. ..I made sure to tell the stocking team to pack anti-psychotics for you, hopefully that’ll help with some of the hallucinations.”

“How much of my record is publicly known?” you couldn’t help but ask.

The question took David off guard. He turned away from the war table to pick up a nearby tablet, and flipped through it. “It looks like only the council and those immediately involved in your Realization handling can see the whole file. You’ll have a marker declaring Realization Completed on it, that anyone who has access to the file can see, but the exact offenses, no, those are confidential.”

“And… is it just, mass murderers like myself, who get Realization?” You ignored a couple nearby crew members who threw you glances. You had to know what you were up against.

David snorted. “No. You’ll effectively be anonymised. I realize that… what you did here was extraordinary, and it’s out of line from what most Realization Candidates go through,” his voice was careful, cognizant of the weight of the situation.

You sighed. “Weighted befitting someone like me, I guess.”

00:09:23. 00:09:22. 00:09:21.

He was quiet, studying you. “I’m probably the last person you want to be asked this by, but… What happened? ..Y’know.”

At least he saved you from hearing that cursed name again. You continued to stare out at the transport ship, though it wasn’t in focus as you dredged up memories of what happened. “My Brothers betrayed me,” you said quietly. “It was supposed to be deathless, just a distraction and a grab ‘n go. They set charges in the station’s main vents, when they were planned for locations that wouldn’t do much damage—just a distraction. I did my job. I pulled the trigger. I was responsible, but that wasn’t supposed to happen…”

David watched you relive the betrayal quietly.

00:06:54. 00:06:53. 00:06:52. The transport was more than twice the size it was when you began watching, and yet it hardly seemed like it was moving.

A voice came over the intercom: “All personnel, prepare for docking in T-minus 7 minutes.”

Beeps and computer groans and the sound of typing was the only thing that pierced the silence.

“ You’re as much a scapegoat, as a victim, as responsible. Fuck,” he said eventually, pensively.

You nodded absentmindedly.

00:03:25. 00:03:24. 00:03:23. The docking arms of the transport were terrifyingly close, looking to be shaped like claws meant to grasp onto tethers you couldn’t see even from the bird’s eye view of the helm.

“Do you still have my file open?”

“Yeah?”

“Is my… is my name on it?”

David pulled the tablet in front of his face to look it over. “…No. Just an inmate number. Let’s see if I can't fix that on my end…”

00:01:34. 00:01:33. 00:01:32. The transport had stopped like an enormous shadow over the tow ship, and the docking arms were reaching slowly for the ship.

”All personnel, prepare for docking in T-minus 1 minute, thirty-seconds.”

“No, I don’t have clearance to change your info. We’ll talk to the council about that during the officiation,” David said, sounding a bit frustrated on your behalf. “No fucking wonder we didn’t have your name. Fuckers didn’t even bother to put it in your file.”

As the timer ticked down, the docking arms moved into position, as slow as waiting for a star’s light to disappear. As the timer ticked to 00:00:00, there was a notable chunk against the tow ship’s hull, then a light jostle as the docking arms hooked solidly onto the tethers, and a slow but steady rising motion started as it began to lift the ship out of the ocean and into the hangar above.

David was right, this was cool as fuck. You could see hazard lights rotating far up in the transport’s hangar, and the blood ocean began to get smaller and smaller as you and the ship was lifted up and away from it. Raising up into the hangar, you could see docking crew watching the ship’s progress from walkways. As the ship came to a halt fully within the transport’s hangar with a slight jostle at the locking of the docking arms, the light incoming from the hangar doors slowly disappeared as the hatch closed and the airlock audibly reengaged with the telltale hiss of the hangar repressurizing. Catwalks extended out from the permanent walkways that lined the hangar, locking into place against the hull of the towship with a chunk and a hiss.

One of the navigation crew moved to a door you didn’t even realize existed on the side of the cabin, and mechanically unlocked it, breaking airlock; opening it, they waved to a crew member on the hangar dock, then ducked back into the cabin to begin collecting items. David moved away to gather up several different tablets strewn about the cabin as well. Watching the door, you caught movement across the new catwalk coming toward the ship, but in the low light it was difficult to tell what it was; as it got closer, you realized it was a crew member pushing a wheelchair. Oh thank fuck they weren’t going to make you walk.

The crew member wheeled the chair into the cabin, and easily deduced you were the right person for it, bringing it straight over to you, positioning it just so that it would be easy for you to transfer between where you sat and it. Ze moved to stand beside it, into a position that indicated ze was ready to assist you, and addressed you; “My name is Tanner, and I’m going to be your primary medic for this trip. Please let me know how best I may assist you.”

“Uh, it’s, going to hurt, but I should be able to do this much by myself,” you mumbled, a bit off-put by how forward and overbearing hir words were. Sure, you hurt, but the COI folks seemed to be too eager to help you, it was weird. Were they all going to be like this?

Ze nodded and gave you clearance to attempt to stand, which you managed with a pained hiss. Hir hands were gentle as ze guided you to sit in the wheel chair maybe you did need more help than you thought. You caught your breath as you sank into the chair, feeling a bit embarrassed at the extent of your weakened state.

Tanner moved to stand behind your chair, watching David for his signal that he was ready to head out. The cabin was a flurry of activity, you noticed now that you were settled, with the navigation crew gathering crates of tablets and hard drives, and David sticking tablet after tablet into a backpack. He finally picked up his over-sized one and tucked it securely under his arm, and turned to you and your escort.

“Ready to head up,” he said, gesturing with a nod of his head toward the door, then headed for it.

Tanner moved to roll you in tandem, following after David with a healthy distance, but not too far from him. The hangar echoed with activity, voices calling between both the tow ship and the transport as the crews worked together to offload the expedition’s gear. It was far more activity than you were used to, as even when you’d gotten to see a ship docking at Eden, there wasn’t this many hands helping. It was like they were hurried, but thinking about it, it seemed more like they were a well-oiled machine, practiced at this...

Glancing back at the helm’s cabin as ze wheeled you along the walkway, your blood ran cold—that toothy monster stood in the windows of the cabin, watching you as it got smaller and smaller with distance.

Your breath must have audibly hitched, because Tanner spoke up; “Ianthe made a specific note in your file that you’ve been experiencing hallucinations as a result of your trauma, and I saw David had requested psychiatric medications for you. Those will be included in your first dose of medications with us, when your next round is due.”

You turned to keep your eyes on David’s perpetually retreating back. “Did she mention how bad it is?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“She noted that you have needed physical intervention to calm you from the incidents, and that you have been having night terrors. All very understandable for what you’ve been through, and our personnel have all been made aware of the assistance you require.”

Hir stiff tone and carefully selected words made the memories of some of Eden’s most militant members feel warm and fuzzy. “..Did she note what the hallucinations are?”

“Moving shadows, and a bipedal, tooth-riddled monster that has been menacing you.”

You nodded. Something about the medics knowing what was plaguing you helped make it feel less real, as although they couldn’t see it, their acknowledgment of it and subsequent lack of reaction to it reinforced it wasn’t real.

David led you and Tanner down a winding track of corridors and elevators through the belly of the transport, often aided by lifting his over-sized tablet up to see a map of the transport’s innards. The ship was huge, likely originally built to hold several hundred, if not a thousand crew members in it’s hey-day. Yet, once you’d left the vehicle hangar, you didn’t see another soul until David stopped at what looked to once have been a grand conference room.

It had been converted into an office, lined with screens displaying nothing at the moment, with a surprisingly well-kept wooden desk dominating the back of the room. There seemed to be enough space between the desk and the door for a whole ship’s crew to gather for orders at once time. Someone with as stiff and commanding of a presence as Ava had sat behind the desk, and looked up when the three of you entered the room. Vir clothing seemed immaculate; given fabric being so difficult to come by, it displayed vie held a great level of power. Vie gestured to David to sit in a chair opposite vir across the desk, and Tanner rolled you up to be able to sit at it, before taking leave and closing the office’s doors behind hir.

“Joseph,” vie introduced virself, offering a hand to David to shake, “David,” who took vir hand, then to you. You reached to politely take vir hand, and vie gave you a strong yet delicate grip before letting go. Vie looked at the computer on the desk beside vir, and furrowed a brow for a second, then looked back to you. “I’m afraid I don’t have a name for you. Quite unprofessional of me, as this is no place for me to use anything on your file as a name. We’ll fix that; what might I have the pleasure of calling you?”

The way vie studied you was intimidating and made you feel small, regardless of the professional warmth in vir tone. “Simon,” you gathered your strongest voice to respond with.

Vie nodded and turned to the computer beside vir. With a few taps, vie typed in five letters, then hit enter. “There. Now, on to business. David, if you could transfer me your resolution report.”

David pulled up his over-sized tablet and began messing around on it. As they began discussing things that didn’t have any context to you, the shadows began to move behind Joseph.

Not now. Please not now. You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath.

You felt a hand on your right shoulder. “Hey. You’re with me,” came David’s voice. His hand left too quickly for you to use it to focus on what was real, so you tried to focus instead on the pain in your legs, where the graft donation sites were. Those weren’t there in the sub. That pain is what’s real.

“What’s wrong?” came Joseph’s voice from the darkness.

“He’s been having hallucinations since we retrieved him. Standard trauma reactions, the medics tell me.”

“My condolences, Simon.”

You could only nod, keeping your eyes closed, trying to shove down the anger that bubbled up at the thought that this person before you was part of the system in place that allowed this to happen to you, enabled the system to do things like this to other people too. At least that was helping keep you grounded in reality.

“Be quiet, Simon. It’s almost over,” came that gentle voice again. “Then you’re free.” Who was that? It was the only auditory hallucination you were having and she sounded so familiar… It was calming enough to keep you from saying something stupid, though.

You listened for a long while as Joseph and David conversed about processing your officiation. Slowly, your perception of the pain in your body increased, and everything began to hurt at once. The fucking pain meds were wearing off.

“Alright, Simon,” eventually, Joseph said, prompting you to open your eyes to look at vir. Your face must have been betraying the amount of pain you were in, as vie gave you an apologetic look and continued, “I won’t keep you long, you look like you need to go rest. Your officiation is completed; welcome, officially, to the Consolidation of Iron. I’ll come down to medical after you’ve had some rest to go over what your next steps are. Tanner?” vie called toward the door.

You nodded, and reflexively muttered a “thank you.”

As the door opened and Tanner moved into the room, David addressed you; “I have a lot of reporting to do with Joseph, so I won’t be accompanying you. This might even be the last you see of my ugly mug; enjoy your rest.” You could tell that he had more he wanted to say, but wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say in front of his boss.

Joseph gave you a polite wave as Tanner moved to roll you back out of the room. You closed your eyes to allow yourself to focus on the sensation of rolling, rather than the pain.

“In need of a new round of pain medication?” Tanner’s voice came from the darkness behind you.

You could only nod.

You didn’t register what hir response was, as you caught Joseph addressing David, possibly having thought you were out of earshot: “Polite one, for an Edenite. Especially given the circumstances, and the offenses.”

“We noticed that too,” David responded, but whatever he continued with was too distant to make out. Hopefully he’ll fit in, you thought he said.

Something garbled akin to I hope so too, jumbled down the hall in response.

The med bay on the transport was more the size of a medical wing. It was enormous, and you weren’t sure how the medics kept it orderly with everything so spread out.

You got a whole room to yourself, obviously a remnant of from when this ship was created—no ships cobbled together within the last 20 years had anything like this, and it was a bit claustrophobic. Medics were constantly bringing in supply refreshments, which seemed like a workflow issue, but based on the ship’s design, also seemed necessary.

The privacy was nice, though. No cameras to be seen, and the medics tended to keep your door only slightly ajar so they could hear if you needed assistance, which definitely eased your anxiety and gave you an angle of rest that you didn’t realize you needed. So many years under constant threat of scrutiny was a heavy weight on your shoulders, that you finally got to relax. Especially as your bed was comfortable. Definitely a remnant from before the Quiet Rapture, it had to have been installed here when the ship was built, and just never reallocated as it was a useful asset where it already was.

The meds were lovely. The nerve block for your left arm lasted longer, as did the general pain meds, but these also killed even more pain than the ones that had been on the tow ship. A couple times, a medic had stopped by to do physical therapy with you, and the meds worked so well, the medic had complemented how much better you were doing than they expected. The anti-psychotics finally let you sleep. Your sleep was actually restful, and over a few bouts of sleep, only once did a medic have to rush in to wake you from a nightmare. Better yet, the toothy monster had yet to reappear to menace you, and general shadows stayed still.

It was boring, too, though. Being disabled as you were, the medics made it very clear you were not to do physical activity without their presence. You’d passed the time in the COI’s prison by keeping yourself fit, and without being able to keep up with that regiment, your body screamed for activity. Your brain too, as your wakeful hours were lucid—as lucid as one with major concussions and possibly brain damage from said concussions could be. With the pain dulled, and the anti-psychotics working their magic, you had a lot of time to think, as long as your brain didn’t start to hurt. You tried very hard not to think about what had happened—but there just wasn’t much to think about elsewise, especially as it was such a fresh trauma, it kept trying to weasel it’s way into your consciousness. You certainly wondered about what was to come, and often drifted back to your conversation with Kerry about life in the COI.

Time was as much an enigma in the transport’s medical wing as it was on the tow ship. Any metric you’d gotten for the passage of time on the tow ship was ruined here, between the meds, the personnel presence, and the privacy. David had said the trip would be a few days, and you hadn’t heard yet from Joseph, so the ship had to still be en route.

You were finally brought relief from the boredom and time vortex when, during a wakeful moment, you heard Tanner and Joseph speaking from down the hall. Their words became comprehensible mid-conversation.

“Our priorities have been pain and psychosis management, and assessment to make sure that he is stable enough to have such a test done,” Tanner’s stiff tone floated down the hall.

“For his continued improvement, even I can see that that test should be your next priority. If he’s been in as stable a condition as you have said, then it needs to be done,” Joseph replied, vir tone professional, but with that air of authority that made it clear the authority figure was not going to take no for an answer.

“Of course, magister. I’ll see to it as soon as you’re done speaking with him. I simply was forewarning you of the limitations you may come across.”

Test? What the hell were they planning on doing to you?

Their voices stopped, though a set of footsteps continued down the hall toward your room. You watched the door, certain vie were coming to see you as vie had mentioned. Sure enough, a polite knock of warning rapped at the door before it opened to allow Joseph to step in.

“Simon,” vie greeted you with a professional smile. “Good to see that you’re looking much better than when we last spoke.” Vie were a large person, larger than any of your Brothers, as wide as vie were tall. You didn’t think humans could be that shape. Vie shut the door mostly behind vir, then moved to stand beside you, holding a satchel tucked under vir arm.

You returned vir polite smile. “Glad to be feeling better.”

“Good to hear. You have my heartfelt apology, on behalf of all the council of the Consolidation, for the heinous things we put you through. I’m acutely aware that without your sacrifice, we would be leaving AT-5 empty-handed, and minus two members.”Two? Members? Ava, and… You? Had the welder made it? “I can only hope that we can give you a new home that does not force your hand into performing tragedies similar to those you’d enacted prior to us acquiring you.”

You felt your face fall, and vir reaction said your expression had turned to fear.

“Your slate has been wiped clean,” vie said gently. “While there may be individuals within the council that may continue to hold personal issue with you for your actions, that you passed your Realization is, in theory, enough to stay their hand in passing any further judgment on you. And, if that does ever become a problem, you need only tell me.”

Question replaced fear on your face.

“Every Realized Consolidation member has a liaison they can come to for assistance in keeping their record clean or advice for integrating, even beyond our standard integration classes. I’m your liaison; make no mistake, you are a free man from this point forward, but I will always be here as a resource to ease your transition into our society. I am also the person you will report to if issues arise, bypassing the usual interactions with security forces.”

You nodded quietly, digesting that.

Vie moved to take the satchel out from under vir arm, and placed it on the bed beside you. From within the satchel, vie produced a small machine that looked like a tablet and handed it to you. “First and foremost, this is your PII, your Personal Intranet Interface. This is yours to keep, but also yours to be responsible for. You will get a more thorough rundown of it’s functions in integration class, but as a general introduction, this will be your partner in life with us. You will need to have this on you at all times as this is your personal identification, your key to interacting with Consolidation computers, a communication tool, as well as an information hub for you to access all the knowledge the Consolidation has to offer. More importantly at this time, it will also function as a bridge between yourself and your medic team. Your PII has been preloaded with your biometrics to restrict access to it’s functions to only to you and the council—only should need ever arise, of course—but also to gauge diagnostics. You can take measurements with and input data for your medic team through this and communicate any of your medical needs easily.” As vie spoke, vie showed you how to unlock it, and how to navigate it by using examples as vie mentioned them. It seemed simple enough.

“Speaking of your medical team; medical is going to run a few function tests for you while we are still en route to Derin Station. This will serve as a preview of how independent you are currently with the extent of your injuries. Depending on how much assistance you need, you may need to stay with the station’s medical center for a while. I understand that the medics have not yet tested you for the severity of your concussions, just suspect that you have one or more. I would like to give you more information about what to expect when we arrive on Derin, but I need you to tell me if I’m giving you too much information at once for the state of your head.”

Oh. That’s what test they were talking about. You nodded.

Vie gave you a smile. “I can always stop and come back another time.”

“How long have we been traveling?” you asked before vie could leap back into vir schpeal.

Vie paused and took a similar device to the one vie handed you out of vir breast pocket and studied the screen. “About 49 hours. We have 37 hours left before we arrive at Derin.”

You realized you had no idea if EIC and IMC hours were the same amount of time. Not that you’d be able to tell how much time is passing... Oh wait. You turned the device you were handed around in your hand, trying to make heads or tails of it before the screen flashed on to greet you. The programs were helpfully labeled and you found the clock. Watching it, it seemed to tick at the same rate you were used to.

“Clever one, you are,” Joseph praised. “You’re not the first Edenite that I’ve had the pleasure of handling, but you are by far the quickest, concussion be damned.”

You gave vir a look—you weren’t real sure what your face said, though.

“I mean that in the most sincere way possible,” vie said gently. “The other Edenites I’ve handed a PII to looked at it like computers were alien to them. ...It’s a bit unprofessional of me, but, may I ask; how much exposure do the folks of Eden have to computers?”

“It… depends on what position they are in the hierarchy. A day laborer may never see one. Or might have interactions with ones that are integrated into the station,” you trailed off, thinking. “The Edenites that are most likely to have been captured by the COI probably were like me… Brothers.” You shook your head. “We all know and use tablets on the daily though. That’s pretty much what this is, isn’t it?”

Vie nodded and gave a contemplative sound. “If I may be so bold—you are also the most tempered Edenite I’ve had the pleasure of handling, so my intrigue is piqued. You mentioned Brothers, and I’ve heard others mention that word in similar context. May I ask what you mean by that?”

You watched vir face carefully, but found nothing but sincerity on it. Guarded, yet nothing to lose, you replied; “Sons of Eden, Sons of The Father.” Your shoulders fell as it finally clicked in your head that there was no going back. You weren’t a Son of Eden anymore. Joseph was patient as it seemed obvious that you were working through something. “We—They’re… Eden’s special forces. Para-militia, at beck and call of Father to do His bidding. We’re—They’re the ones that plan skirmishes with the COI.” Why are you telling one of the leadership of the COI this? “Enforce order on Eden. Patrol and guard Eden’s perimeter.”

Joseph’s face was hard to read at hearing that. “Thank you for your information.”

You just became a snitch. If you weren’t so sure that your Brothers had already wanted you dead, considering their actions at Filament Station, you’d be more worried about what’d happen if one caught wind of you.

“I see now how you were in position to be responsible for Filament Station.”

You winced at the name.

“David told me.”

You looked to vir face. It was professional, but conflicted.

“As I said previously, your slate has been wiped clean, as far as the council is concerned,” vie nodded. “Let’s look instead to your future, hm?”

You swallowed hard. “What good is a one-armed mass-murderer, to the COI?”

“That’s for you to decide, hm?” Vir face was sincere. “Once you are cleared by medical as healed enough to be independent, and once your integration classes have been completed, we’ll talk about that in more depth, as you’ll report to me for your capabilities questionnaire. So far as I can tell, you’re a sharp, upstanding young man who only got into trouble because of the circumstances he was stuck in. I have every confidence that you’ll be a fine addition to any team.”

Obviously vie had never heard your moniker. Perhaps that hadn’t made it here… Was it hallucinations that made you think the COI knew What you were? “And what of the black box information? Of… the expedition you sent me on?” You couldn’t tell if you wanted to be invested in that mess any more, but it felt like unfinished business, and you felt compelled to ask.

Joseph’s face did something you couldn’t quite tell what it meant. There was an obvious “that’s above your paygrade” reaction that folks in leadership tended to make when folks punched above their class, but also a deep understanding that if anyone was entitled to that information, it was you. “I have not taken it off the table to simply ask you to be our liaison to the situation with AT-5. However, I am also quite aware of the damage that that matter has already inflicted upon you, and that is why I have continued to handle your case as though you were any other Realization Completionist. If you so see fit, you have both options open to you, though your capability questionnaire and the future state of your psyche may force me to say you are not able to proceed with that option. Regardless, we of course will be asking for a full report of what happened on AT-5 from you, when you are capable. I understand I’ve danced around that reality, but my job is to move Realization Completionists forward, not dwell on their pasts. Yours is a fringe case, my friend.”

You nodded.

“But. That is quite far in the future, for your condition. Pardon for jumping around in the timeline quite a bit, but you’re an astute one—most Edenites hardly give me a grunt in response to my speaking with them—and your case is unique; you got me off track. Getting back on track; depending on how much assistance you require, if you are deemed independent enough to not need to stay with the station’s medical center, or once you are deemed so after a stay, you will be granted access to your own quarters on Derin station. It will be your own space to retreat to and will also be your responsibility to care for. Once we know more, I’ll work with you to schedule your integration classes; your first one will introduce you to the intricacies of your PII as well as station expectations and etiquette, and you’ll be expected to attend at least three subsequent classes within the week of the first. These will cover similar but expanded topics on life with the Consolidation. It will be after these classes that I will expect to see you for your capabilities questionnaire. This is a survey of the skills you are bringing to the Consolidation, as well as your physical and mental capabilities to hold certain positions in which you would otherwise be skilled enough to do. Obviously, due to the nature of your current status, this will not be the only capability questionnaire I’ll have you do; even once you have been deemed independent by the medical center, you’ll still be in a state of partial healing, so any questionnaire I have you do at that point is not representative of your full capabilities. I want an overview of you, your personality, and your abilities before you’re fully healed so that I may better tailor positioning your skillset to our teams. Have I lost you at all?”

You switched to shaking your head after nodding along, keeping up with all the information just fine. “David mentioned an apartment. Is that what you mean by quarters?”

Vie nodded. “Are you familiar with the term?”

“I, am, in general, but. A whole apartment. For just me?”

“The stations within the Consolidation have plenty of empty apartments, considering the difficulty of living the way we do,” vie said matter-of-factly. “It’d be odd to expect you to share with others.” There seemed to be an undertone in vir voice that hinted at the fact that, somewhat recently, 62 occupants of Consolidation living quarters had vacated them permanently, but vie were polite enough to not say it aloud.

You nodded quietly.

“As well, you will never truly be alone, if that is your concern. You will have your privacy of course, but station security, medical, or a council representative will always be available to message on your PII. As well, depending on your skill set and the work you best fit into, you may also be taken on extended trips away from the station with a team that you work alongside.”

“What about clothing…? And, I was told that food is handled by me?”

Joseph nodded. “For now, we will provide you with standardized Consolidation jumpsuits; there will be opportunities for you to acquire your own chosen clothing in the future. As for food, you’re correct. On station, you will have free range to several options in food acquisition, but you will be expected to use your PII to track what exactly your caloric intake is. We tend to trust our members to not falsify their inputs, or take more than their body needs; one of the tests that medical will run for you is to calculate what macronutrients your body needs, and you will be expected to keep within a certain threshold of that target. I will have medical teach you how to do this shortly, as now that you have your PII, I’ll have you begin tracking your own medication intake as it will be good practice for whilst you’re on station. Whilst any Consolidation member is on a transit ship or outpost, caloric intake is typically tracked by the captain or quartermaster in the form of rations, or medical in the case of medication. In your case, whilst you are on station, and are independent but still seeing the medical center for ongoing treatment, you will be expected to track your medication intake as well.”

You nodded, head swirling with the idea that there were choices you could make.

Vie patted the satchel that vie had brought your PII in. “This is yours to keep. Inside is a second jumpsuit for you, and some personal effects to get you started. I’m sure from your time with the correctional facilities you’re familiar with our laundering schedule?” Vie let you reply with a nod before continuing. “It will be similar anywhere you go within the Consolidation; station, outpost, transit, they will all function the same.”

You moved to take up the satchel to look inside. Your movements were slow, though, as were your thoughts; you did just receive a lot of information, and though your head was pretty clear thanks to the meds, it was beginning to hurt at the sheer amount you were thinking about. Just as Joseph said, there was another jumpsuit, along with two pairs of socks, a clean but worn and patched pair of boots, a hair brush, mouth care kit, and a straight razor… The prison hadn’t let you have one of those, probably because they thought you, being from Eden, were suicidal. When was the last time you shaved? You looked up to vir, surprise obvious on your face. “Thank you, magister. For.. this, and all your information.”

Vie seemed to catch on that you were slowing down. “You’re most welcome; you are a most pleasant person to speak with. I look forward to working with you. That is the majority of the information that I have for you at this moment, so I’ll let you rest, or at least not need to process new information for a while—I have a feeling Tanner is going to want to get you in for some tests; those you don’t need to pay attention to. If you have any questions, you can always message me; my contact information has already been preloaded into your PII. If you do not get into contact with me prior to docking at Derin Station, we’ll go over medical’s findings and where to go from there just prior to docking.”

You nodded at that, and Joseph moved to step toward the door. Vie opened it, but stopped before stepping through the threshold. “One last question.. If you are so willing to entertain me,” vie asked, turning back to look to you.

You gave vir a curious look.

“Is it true,” vie paused for a half a moment, seemingly unsure that vie should be asking this, “that Eden has a suicide cult?”

“Yes,” you said matter-of-factly.

Vie chewed on that thought for a second. “You could have given up at any point, gone the way of Eden’s faithful, during your Realization. And yet, here you sit before me, beyond battered, but wholly alive, pleased even with that fact, despite the state you’re in, despite your life being turned upside down. You don’t seem to ascribe to Eden’s beliefs, do you?”

A thousand memories of Eden, both good and bad, tried to flood your mind at that question. Clearing them all away, the answer was simple: “No.”

Vie gave you a good-hearted nod. “What say you to being our consultant for Edenian matters?”

You had a feeling that was going to come up at some point. “I’m not a politician, magister. But I can provide some context, maybe.”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed we’re in the dark about what happens on Eden, just as you’re unaware of the culture in the Consolidation. Any context can help. Consider it, I don’t need an answer right now,” vie gave you a polite wave before excusing virself, shutting the door mostly behind vir.

“You are a most pleasant person to speak with,” vir words stuck in your head as you absentmindedly dug through the contents of the satchel. You. Pleasant? From someone in the COI leadership? It was true, you’d been trying to change your ways with the downtime you had in the COI’s prison, to be better than the COI thought of Edenites, forcing yourself to give “please”s and “thank you”s and “sorry”s to even folks who outright disrespected you; at least that seemed to have stuck enough that someone noticed. Without your back against a wall, cornered, or in a cage, it was easier to do; it felt good even. You were so tired of the violence, tired of all the death that came with living on Eden… “You’ve lost your nerve, Butcher.” You winced at the title. Tired of Eden… This wasn't what you’d had in mind to get out of the life you’d become disillusioned with, but going over everything Joseph had said made it sound like a pretty damn promising new beginning.

You took the straight razor into your hand and flipped it open to inspect, your brain mostly preoccupied with thoughts, and your hand simply needed something to do so you could focus better. It was old, but kept in good condition, and it was sharp. Flipping it shut, you noted that the hinge was a bit stiff, but what wasn't these days.

Wait a second. You looked down at yourself, trying to turn your hands to look at both palm and back, then sighed heavily at not seeing your left hand in your vision. You can't even use that straight razor to shave with. Shaving with one requires twohands… “ Of all the fucking thoughtless things…” you grumbled, tossed the razor back into the satchel, then grabbed the whole thing and dumped it on the side table to your right

You scrubbed the unbandaged half of your face with your hand tiredly. A knock came at the door, and you let your hand fall loosely into your lap. Tanner peeked hir head into the room, and seeing you were still sitting up, entered fully.

Ze must have noted how tired you looked before speaking; “I have several noninvasive, nonattentive tests that we need to perform with you. Are you up to it at the moment?”

“Like..?” you grumbled, trying very hard not to let your irritation at the razor slip into your voice.

“We have two scans and a blood test lined up. If you fall asleep during said tests, it would affect nothing, but it is your decision.”

You nodded and flipped your hand up in a sign of “let’s do it.” Tanner nodded in return and stepped out of the room to fetch a wheel chair.

“Wait,” you stopped hir, “is it far?”

Ze looked you up and down, calculating hir answer. “It is not, but you have been bedbound for quite a while.”

“All the better to get me up and moving then, huh,” you replied, moving to get up. Your shifting brought attention to the PII still in your lap. Oh shit, right. That thing existed. You picked it up and the screen lit up in greeting. “Uh, Joseph said something about you teaching me how to use this thing, for, med tracking,” you asked toward Tanner, uncertain.

“I can do that, of course. Let us go over that the next time you have medication dispensed,” ze declared.

“ Sure.” Thinking about it for a moment, how Joseph had said to keep it on you at all times, you hesitated, “do I need it now?”

“No; in fact it will mess with the scan to determine how badly your brain may have been damaged in your trauma,” ze said flatly.

You nodded, then moved to stash it in the satchel.

Tanner moved to stand beside the bed, hands at the ready to assist you since you seemed determined to try walking on your own. You swung your legs down over the side of the bed, and moved to stand, everything stiff—you’d take stiff over painful any day, though. Straightening yourself, Tanner made a “calm down” motion with hir hands and you felt your face give hir a look.

“Your grafts are still at a delicate stage of their healing. It must be very difficult not to stretch, but for your safety and continued healing, do not,” ze said.

Well now you felt like doing so. Not even to be contrary, but being reminded of how good a stretch felt made your body yearn for one. You grumbled, but fought off the urge.

The pain meds were working wonders, as you took a steadying breath, then stepped toward Tanner without any pain. Stiffness, of course, but for once, without pain. “Whatever med cocktail you have me on is working great, doc,” you said, testing your legs and stepping carefully, slowly, but with increased speed with each step, testing your limits.

Tanner stayed right near by, stepping backward to keep stride with you, on high alert for any sudden weakness ze could assist you with. “That is very good to hear. We haven’t changed it much at all since you arrived, so that also means you are healing fantastically. Hopefully soon that means that you won't require the nerve block.”

That thought scared you. Of all the improvement you’d been having, that arm remnant just was not cooperating. “Hopefully,” you replied, letting Tanner lead you slowly, but steadily, to where ze intended to take you.

As thankfully rare as your nightmares had become with the anti-psychotics, they still plagued you. This one started familiarly—freeing yourself from the crawlspace in the sub as it filled with blood, coughing blood out of your lungs while gasping for air, the black box sitting mocking your fate on the floor. You knew you were dreaming—that was the worst part. As you reached to clip the life preserver and your hood harness onto the black box, you repeated your actions ad nauseam in fear that if you didn’t, the extremely unlikely unfolding of events that let you live would never happen. Even though it was a dream, you were afraid that you’d never actually wake up, and that you’d lived was actually the dream.

Then the dream changed. The proximity alert clicked, then faster, just as before, and you struggled to get your hood harness clipped, but the proximity alert began to click faster, then extremely fast. That was new. When you got the harness clipped and looked up toward the control panel, the proximity alert continued its extremely fast clicking, and instead of the fish bumping the sub, in front of you stood the toothy monster. It took a menacing step toward you, and you slid in the blood trying to step back, getting your left arm stuck to it’s final resting place.

Menaced by the new threat, you tried to remove your arm from the pipe where it was lashed, but it didn’t give, allowing the monster to close the distance between you. It reached for you with it’s arm and—

You woke with a gasp, though it didn’t get you much breath. Eyes open in panic from the nightmarish awakening, you registered the cabin in the vehicle transport’s medical wing that you remembered returning to after the medics’ tests, but hovering over you was the toothy monster. It had it’s grotesque, tumor-riddled hand grasping your throat—the first time the monster had gotten it’s hands—wait, hand on you.

It only had one hand. It was missing it’s left arm.

You tried to scream, but it pressed its hand into your throat with all it’s weight. You tried grasping at it’s arm to try and pry it off of you, only for yours to pass right through it as if it weren’t there, or you were insubstantial.

The monster dipped it’s disgusting face closer to yours, it’s jaw distorted and wrenched open at an odd angle, larger than any human’s, with teeth like the fish monster’s growing out of it’s split left cheek and smaller ones in where normal teeth would be. The intense iron smell of blood wafted off the creature at such a force that even without being able to breathe, you could register it’s stench. As it got closer, your eyes drew downward toward the tumor-riddled missing left arm, but caught on the monster’s neck.

It had your Eden tattoo, distorted by tumorous growths but still unmistakably distinguishable.

You got out a choked scream: “That thing is ME!?”

Your body screamed for air as you barely registered multiple sets of footsteps charging down the hall toward your room. The monster didn’t let up, nor looked up, when the door to your room was flung open, two medics, Tanner, and David? rushing into the room.

When Tanner dashed to your side and passed through the monster’s form, it disappeared as if it had never existed, allowing you to gasp desperately for air, this time, oxygen filling your lungs. You grasped at your sore neck, both protectively and inquisitively, trying to figure out how a fucking hallucination could choke you. Tanner was trying to get you to answer hir at what was wrong, but panic, adrenaline, and the basal need for air didn’t let you answer.

“When was his anti-psychotic refreshed last?” Tanner asked forcefully of one of the assistant medics.

You heard furious tapping on a tablet from the opposite side of you. “12 hours ago,” came the familiar voice of one of the medics.

“Refresh, now,” was all Tanner said. Ze looked back to you as footsteps retreated from the room. “Simon, what happened,” ze tried again to get an answer out of you.

“I—I, I—” You were stuck in a loop, terror replacing panic, and adrenaline running its course as your body was getting reaccustomed to having oxygen again.

“We’re getting you anti-psychotics as we speak,” hir normally harsh tone mellowed as ze could tell whatever you just experienced was beyond any other ze had seen you experience before. “Take your time.”

“I was—I was being choked by the fucking tooth monster,” you managed to croak.

Tanner’s brow furrowed. Ze gestured to where you still had your hand on your neck. “Please allow me to see.”

You began to cry. “That thing is ME,” you sobbed. “It’s got my tattoo. It’s missing it’s left arm.”

“What the fuck?” you heard David breathe.

Noting your distress and reluctance to follow hir request, Tanner gently took your hand and tried to remove it from your neck—you let hir.

“His neck is red,” ze said flatly, speaking to the other medic.

“Did he do it to himself?” the medic asked.

“No. If I hadn't seen him put his hand there when I stepped up to him, I would have suspected the same, but, he wasn't putting force upon his neck, simply covering it.”

“It hurts,” you sobbed. “How can a hallucination do that??” you wailed.

“Normally, they can't,” ze said, sounding troubled.

“What the fuck,” David repeated, louder this time.

Tanner put hir hand on your shoulder, allowing you your hand back. You covered your face with it, ugly crying with fear and relief that it was over.

“Simon, how many times since you started anti-psychotics have you seen the tooth monster?” Tanner asked gently.

“Just this once,” you gurgled from crying, then cleared your throat. “It—It st—It started in a nightmare. I was—back on the sub. I had these before. I do everything the same, scared if I don’t, I’ll actually die. But. It was there, instead of the fish. It—it almost killed me, for real, just like I’ve feared.”

The first medic returned with the familiar capsules they’d been giving you—the anti-psychotic medication—and a glass of water. Tanner patted your shoulder before removing hir hand and moving to a cabinet built into the wall of the cabin. Ze removed a washing cloth from it, and brought it over for you to clean your face.

You sat up, gratefully took it and tried to do so, trying to stop crying so you could take the meds. “What are you doing here,” you asked, far more accusingly than you meant, gesturing at David while trying to get yourself into a more stable state.

“I had some info to share with you, but Tanner stopped me because ze knew you were sleeping. I was hanging out, chatting when you had your episode; naturally, I came running too,” he replied. If he had taken offense at your tone, he didn’t show it. You realized he had his signature over-sized tablet under his arm; maybe he was telling the truth.

You blew your nose into the cloth, and cleared your throat of mucous. Letting the cloth drop onto your lap, you gestured to the medic with the meds to hand them over, more desperately than you intended or wanted to be read as, but the faster you had those meds, the less likely this was to happen again—at least, you hoped. The medic obliged and handed you first the capsule, then the glass after you’d popped the pill into your mouth. You chased it with big gulps from the glass. Holding the half emptied glass in your lap, you let your eyes close, and focused on your breath. “Thank you,” you breathed. “Fuck.” you spat, hoping no one in particular would take offense from it.

Two sets of footsteps exited the room from within the darkness—it sounded like the two aide medics. You could still feel Tanner at your side, trying to think of something to say.

“We, came to a conclusion after studying your brain scan,” ze said, breaking the silence.

“How fucked am I, doc?” you muttered.

“Could be much worse, to be quite honest. You have major concussions to several locations of your brain, but you are surprisingly functioning nearly fully versus what we would expect, based on what those locations are and for the apparent extent of damage. You’ll need a lot of rest to make sure you keep functioning at your current capacity, and that the damage doesn’t become permanent.”

You nodded quietly; thankfully resting wasn't hard to do considering that it was mostly what your body wanted to do already.

“There was… an oddity captured on the full body scan however,” Tanner continued. You opened your eyes to watch hir, not liking the sound of that. “David can likely tell you more, but, when cross-referencing the anomaly with logs from the black box, we believe the areas that you had to have excised due to the blood mutating your flesh, may have not have been fully excised enough.”

“Wh—what, so, I, need to go under the knife again?” you stammered, fearful, and not completely understanding what ze was trying to get at.

“We aren't sure yet. David, could you explain the exact nature of the blood?”

“Sure.” You looked to him, and he moved to adjust his stance before he spoke. “The researchers on the SM-8 found that the blood is indeed carcinogenic in nature, but weren’t able to figure out how it functions exactly. There were x-rays of one of the researchers who had begun mutating while they were stuck down there, and when we compared them to your mutations, they were similar. The report states that the blood mutates at an extremely rapid rate, before cutting itself off at random.”

“Our current theory is that your original surgical team was able to remove enough of the cancerous masses before it could replicate too far, then ceased mutating. What you have now, is benign, but may cause you pain for the rest of your life,” Tanner stated.

“We have record from the researcher who was mutating, stating that her skin turned into pure nerve endings,” David added ominously.

You looked between the two, horrified.

“Currently, we know that your grafts have taken well, and based on your reported pain, I’m hopeful that that is not going to happen to all of your affected areas. I am, however, concerned that the terminal end of your left arm may be the one location that remains affected, as normal pain medications do not seem to be assisting the pain,” Tanner explained.

You had to digest that for a moment. “So, what, I’ll be on nerve blockers for the rest of my life? That’s not sustainable—no amount of ‘you’re part of the COI now’ would ever allow that. Is that something that you think going back under the knife would help?”

Tanner shifted, thinking. “Another surgery attempt can be made, yes. Either to try and remove the mutated tissue, or to try and surgically cut the nerves to that arm so that the tissue cannot send back pain signals. But, that is unfortunately not something we can make plans to do here—we are too close to Derin Station, and soon you will be under the medical center’s care. I have made note of the issue in your file, but I can notate that if the arm does not improve, that we discussed these optional courses of action. Of course, the medical center may have other opinions or craft other plans of action once they see you.”

The thought of them choosing to do nothing, and forcing you to live with the pain, made the blood run out of your face. “I can't live like that, doc. The pain is too much.”

Ze seemed to figure out what exactly you were thinking. “I know, Simon. It’s not in the medical center’s work ethic to allow someone to live with raw, exposed nerves for the rest of their life. Something will be done to help, but what that is, I cannot say.”

You must have made a face that David interpreted as, “Even for a one-armed mass murderer?”, because he spoke up; “Yes, even for you. All your file says is Realization Completed. The medical staff have no idea what your offenses were, and only your most immediate medics, like Tanner, will even know what happened on AT-5. And even then, they’ll only know what’s most relevant to your issues. Really, Tanner only knows as much as ze do because I filled hir in on what was most relevant. We’re… kinda working on the fly, since your situation is cutting-edge discovery.”

Tanner had moved to tap around on a tablet that you didn’t see hir come in with—then again, you weren’t exactly paying attention to anything like that at that moment, either. “Your pain medication refresh will be up in an hour or so. I will let David speak to you privately, and when he is done I will return with your refresh and to teach you how to input your medication usage into your PII. Confirm?”

You nodded, and Tanner excused hirself, shutting the door behind hir.

“I know it’s hard, but, you gotta stop thinking everyone here’s out to get you,” David said as he stepped over to stand beside you. “I… know everything so far has it pummeled into your brain but, things are different now. I’m not going to be there to remind you every time that no one you’re going to interact with, outside of the council, or folks you’ve met so far that know, will know what you did. No one.”

“How do you know that,” you grumbled. “I seem to be the center of attention anywhere I go here.”

“You’ve only been around people handling you as a prisoner. Now that you’re not, you won't be. Tanner doesn’t know. Kerry and Ianthe don’t know. They just know you were a Realization Candidate. Thieves and gluttons also become Realization Candidates, not just captured Edenites. And even captured Edenites may just have been in the wrong place at the wrong time; surrendered, like you. There’s no telling by the Realization Completed stamp what you did—only you can make it weird by acting weird about it.”

He let you digest that for a good while in silence. Eventually, he lifted his over-sized tablet and started to tap around on it. Given a minute, he offered it to you to look at.

“Science has been analyzing the SM-13 since we’ve been in FTLT. It seems as though the properties of the blood in the ocean don’t just work on human flesh; the hemorover now has a biosignature that states it’s alive,” David said in a purposefully low voice, though you weren’t sure if he was doing so to be ominous, or to keep the information from being overheard.

His summary of the tablet’s information was harrowing, but it was just a preview of how awful the information was. More charts and graphs difficult for you to parse showed, after some studying, that the sub had what was effectively a heartbeat, and the fleshy growths within it’s hull reacted to stimuli, and bled when cut. Reading this information, truly processing it, drew your brain back into the sub, blood dripping from it’s walls as you raced between the camera button and the controls. “Your ship is alive,” you breathed, mimicking the fish’s taunting. Coming back to reality from the memory, you looked to David. “The fish said that. It, sounded as insane as anything else it said to me, so I didn’t even register that it got said until just now.”

“Simon… What the fuck happened down there,” David asked, hardly above a mutter.

“I… don’t know,” was all you could really respond with, same as any other time he asked you that. You thought more about what the fish screamed at you, shortly before what you assumed was the end of you. “’Why you. Why did it choose you?’ ‘You changed everything, Simon. Why couldn’t you do as you’re told?’” Your brain was far away from reality as you tried to remember what exactly were the fish’s words, let alone try to make sense of any of them. “I… don’t think… The fish didn’t want me to get the black box info to the surface.” You looked at David, who was watching you with a healthy amount of concern, though it was overshadowed by curiosity. “I think… something is wrong. I, know I wasn't supposed to live, but. I really think I was supposed to die down there. Something other than that fish wanted me to die. Something is watching me...”

David’s face was unreadable as the two of you stared at each other.

“How did the SM-8 crew get stuck down there?” you asked suddenly.

David made that face that Joseph did, that face that said you were punching above your class. He set his jaw as he thought about answering you, then sighed. “Similarly to you. The hemorover got attacked by something, the tow chain was severed, and we lost contact with them. Couldn’t get them on scans.”

“How long ago was that.”

“...About a year.”

“How many convicts before me were sent down there,” you pressed.

“One.”

“Why was I in the SM-13 then? Where’s 9-12?”

“Scrapped or repurposed. Each one was damaged beyond repair. I can tell what your next question is going to be; yeah, the ‘13 went down once before. The, guy before you, died of oxygen deprivation; he set off the fire extinguisher to flood the cabin with CO2 to suffocate himself.”

Your brow furrowed. “Who was in the other subs, then…?”

“Consolidation volunteers. After we lost the third, the council deemed it too risky to continue to send our own people,” he hesitated to say it the way he did, and made a face at his own words—a face of regret. “ ’11, never made it into the ocean. It’s construction was fundamentally flawed,” he said as an aside, as though he had just thought of it.

You chewed on his words, but something brought your brain back to your original question. “If the fish I delt with, was the researchers of the SM-8, something else had to have been down there to get them…” A light bulb went on in your head. “The skeleton… the, the one I originally found. It was, so much smaller than the fish; did the, researcher-fish kill the one that stranded them? And then use that skeleton as bait for the next fucker to go down there?”

David made a horrified face. “What created that one then?”

“Show me the pictures I took,” you said, a morbid thought coming to your head.

You turned the tablet toward him, and he tapped around for a little while, digging through the file trees like following a maze. You saw things you were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to, but he didn’t slow down nor speed up in his search. Eventually, he pulled up the folder of photos and turned the tablet back toward you.

Setting your jaw hard in preparation to go diving back into memory hell, you scrolled through them. You lingered on the one you took that first showed the fish monster, looming just behind the skeleton you took a sample of. “This.. isn’t what I was looking for, but it’s what I just mentioned. See the fish’s eye behind the skull?”

He swore under his breath, but didn’t reply otherwise.

You kept looking through the photos, tensing at several you didn’t actually see get taken—or at least, what the content was. The tow chain getting cut, the monster’s teeth far too close to the camera for comfort, the monster’s eyes lighting up like a light bulb in the darkness as you tried desperately to get out of that cave… There it was. That alien corridor with what looked like an eye at the end, but possibly could have been a door. “Here,” you passed the tablet to him. “I was too weirded out and afraid at the moment to really think about what this was that I photographed, but, this was when I was in that cave, trying to find my way out. That looks like a door in a doorway, right?”

He opened the picture in a program and started to mess with it. It changed from darker to lighter, to sharper to blurrier, and you furrowed your brows at what he was doing. He shook his head at his efforts. “You’re right. I was hoping that maybe if I edited the raw file it might come in clearer but. We kinda have what we have here, having to use x-rays to take photos like this.”

Why he made the effort didn’t make any sense, so you just continued with your thought, “There was. A lot of alien shit down there. Shit that, both looked like the eel, and shit that didn’t. I think there was something else living on that moon before the Quiet Rapture, and, however the blood appeared, what was already there got mutated, just like us.”

Something about that statement really got David’s attention, and he gave you an intense stare for several moments. “Did you take more photos like this one?”

“I mean. Probably? There’s a lot there. And, I think I got more than just that one of that door, eye, thing, since I was trying to figure out what the fuck it was.”

He flicked back and forth through the timeline.

“What took you so long to use those warheads on the fish monster?” you asked. You expected him to brush you off, but while you had him spilling way too much info, you figured you might as well try.

He glanced at you, giving you a look that said you were asking too many questions. “They were for emergency only.”

“It wasn't an emergency the first time?”

“...Sorry, no; not by council authority.”

You figured that would be the answer, but it still drew a huff out of you. “Any new discoveries on that thing?”

“Not yet, sadly. We don’t have the equipment. Hopefully keeping it on ice will allow the science center on Derin to study it to the extent that the SM-8 was,” he said, straightening his back and moving to tuck the tablet under his arm. “You’ve given me a lot to think about—and report. You rest up; try not to think too hard about this. I’m going to try and keep you in the loop of discoveries about this, but… If the council deems it confidential even from you, once we’re not stuck on transports together I don’t know that I’ll be able to. I’ll do what I can, though. Honestly, Joseph will chew my ear off if vie finds out I’m down here as it is. But, maybe this chat will get them to keep you looped in on it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Did you want to stay aware of what was going on with this situation? There was that pesky feeling of unfinished business again. You nodded though, and David gave you a casual parting wave before heading out of the room, leaving the door cracked.

NOW THAT THE LIGHT HAS SEEN YOU, IT WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU

You winced your eyes shut and shook your head slowly. Joseph’s huge hand rested gently on your shoulder, dwarfing it, and that gesture pulled you out of the memory. That was a memory, right? The fish was dead. You heard it say that before, right?

“Another hallucination, friend?” vir voice came from within the darkness.

You took a deep breath. “A memory, I think.” What did the fish even mean by that. Other than, trauma.

“I’m sorry that it’s troubling you, Simon,” vie said, patting your shoulder before releasing it.

You opened your eyes to look at vir again. Vie had requested your presence in vir office as the transport was nearing dock. The screens lining vir office were turned on this time, displaying different sets of information—several about the status of the transport itself, several others had information about Derin station, even more had instructions on docking procedures for the station, a couple had a docking timer, and several displayed different camera angles from what had to be the exterior hull of the transport, showing the station growing imperceptibly closer by the second.

Had you skirmished here before? Stations didn’t always look obviously different from each other, but most had a feature or two that made them distinct, and for some reason this station seemed familiar, at least from the outside.

Vie tapped near your PII, which sat on vir desk between you. “You have been managing your own medication usage with your PII—very good, I’ve been keeping track. Report from medical states that you have been able to walk increasing distances but are not fully ambulatory yet, so, I will be accompanying you to the medical center once we’ve docked. They’ll give you a thorough physical and from there decide whether you need to stay with them, or are capable of living on your own and simply coming in to see them for medications and check ups.” Vie tapped on your PII and with a practiced hand, opened a map program even from vir upside down angle. “I’m not sure how much, if at all, you’ve interacted with your PII since I gave it to you, but as an introduction, this here is a map program that will automatically open the most current map for any station, outpost, or transport you are on. It has triangulated positioning, so it will give you a live-updated status of where you are. Until you learn the layout of Derin Station, this will be vital. Before you arrived in my office, I was able to communicate with the governance of Derin to update your status as a resident, enroll you in their station chat, and get your credentials synced with the intranet there. I’ve forwarded all of this already to your PII, and everything will automatically load up when your PII connects to the station’s intranet. That includes a set of pins on your map notating important locations throughout the station; your apartment, the medical center, the Commons, my office, as well as others.”

“All personnel, prepare for docking in T-minus 7 minutes,” came a voice over the loudspeaker in the room.

“You are welcome to visit my office at any time—during office hours, of course. You can always message me, as well, and I will respond as soon as I’m able to. If I’m not on station, one of my secretaries will do their best to assist you, or pass you onto one of my colleagues—very likely that would be Anseh, as at her age she doesn’t much get off the station, and I trust her with your case the most of the council,” vie continued.

Your attention had drifted to the screens that lined the office, and though you were listening, absorbing the information that Joseph was giving you, your mind was also elsewhere. “Is there a curfew?”

“There is a sleep cycle period. It’s not expected for residents to be tucked into bed on the exact dot of when sleep cycle starts, but there are noise and behavior ordinances during this period, and the vast majority of public figures will not be available during this time.” You looked to vir with question on your face. “The council, medical will be in emergency receiving mode, stall owners, the like.”

“Stall owners…” you asked slowly.

“Folks who prepare food, as well as traders.” Whatever the look on your face was made vir chuckle. “I’m guessing Eden has nothing of the sort.” Vie paused to receive your head shake. “As you had asked previously, food acquisition is left up to your devices, and that is facilitated by talented food preparation artists who utilize stock from hydroponics to craft various dishes from, and they keep stalls in the Commons during the waking cycle. There is no compensation required on your part to acquire food in this way. As for traders, they keep stalls dedicated to specific crafts and offer materials to those skilled who can trade them different materials. This is the method I referred to previously of how you may acquire chosen clothing; with trading your time or acquired materials, fibercraftsfolk are one of the types of traders that keep stalls on several of the Consolidation’s stations.”

You nodded along, mentally comparing that information to what Kerry had previously told you. Even though this was confirmation to what they had said, it was still difficult to wrap your head around. How were there enough resources that they weren’t kept under tight regulation by the council and it’s enforcers? You shook your head at the thought. “That is… so different from Eden. I’m having trouble even imagining what that looks like.”

You got distracted by the screens on the wall again as Joseph explained how the stalls were set up in the Commons ring; the cameras on the outer hull of the transport were showing it’s docking procedure, and Derin Station’s dock was much larger than Eden’s. As vie described something about alcoves that allowed shopkeeps to separate themselves and their stock from their patrons by a desk not unlike virs, you noted just how many other ships were docked. You knew the Consolidation had far more resources within their conglomerate than Eden, but it was mindboggling to see. “How.. big is Derin Station?”

“It’s the second largest in the Consolidation. I believe, by square footage, it’s three-fifths the size of Eden, if decades-old records are to go by. I personally find that fascinating, as it makes me wonder what all Eden has in it, knowing just how big and sprawling Derin is. It’s size is also the reason we’ve been so concerned about your ambulation; with the extent of your injuries and how long you’ve been bed-bound, it’s a hell of a trek between any two points for even the most abled bodied.”

“No shit…” you muttered in agreeance, eyes still glued to the screens. One of the screens on the outer hull of the transport showed the ship’s slowed descent come to a halt at a docking bay, and a set of airlock bridges extending toward the ship. “So… you’re gonna take me down to medical and.. then what?”

Vir words were clear and pointed, as if vie didn’t want to have to repeat virself a third time. “Medical is going to give you a thorough screening so they can gauge a baseline of your condition and come up with a plan to further your healing. Medical is where we’ll part ways for today. Your case is unique; normally I’d have those whom I’m handling come to my office, and then if they’re from off-station, show them to their quarters. If by some miracle, medical considers you independent enough that you don’t need to stay with them for any amount of time, you’ll be free to head to your quarters, or explore the station at your pace. You’re a sharp fellow, and with the map on your PII, I have all the faith that you’ll find your way just fine. My personal judgment is they’ll want to keep you for at least a few sleep cycles to monitor you—but I’m no medic,” vie chuckled. “Once you’ve been deemed independent enough by the medical center, send me a message and we’ll schedule your first integration class.”

At vir mention of the little tablet, you patted the pocket on your jumpsuit where you had put it, your fingers not finding it’s silhouette—oh right, it was on the desk. “Uh. What does happen if I lose or break this thing?” you asked, moving to pick it up and put it back into your pocket for safe keeping.

Joseph leaned forward on vir desk, placing vir elbows on the wood and crossing vir fingers in front of vir face, giving you a menacing look. “Don’t.”

Vir scrutiny made you recoil back into your chair, shrinking like you were a little kid under Father’s eye again.

Vie gave you a mischievous smile from behind vir hands. “While I am quite serious on that, if by chance it does happen, come see me. You’ll have to work to replace it, but we’ll get you a replacement. They’re hardy little machines, so it’s hard to completely break them, and they’re easily repaired, and their triangulated tracking means they’re hard to permanently lose, unless it’s in the vacuum of space.”

You nodded smally. Then the thought occurred to you; “What… is the work situation…?” No one had described it to you yet. There was obviously an expectation of working, considering the talk of the “capability testing” and that no one lives for free anywhere.

Vie sat up and back in vir chair. “That’s what the capability questionnaire is for. And, of course, medical’s thorough screening. A fully able-bodied member of the Consolidation is expected to put in at least 8 hours of time per cycle doing tasks that they are deemed capable of, if they are a permanent resident on a station, though the vast majority of members see service on various ships and transports. On assignment, you work as your task and position needs you, with an expectation of 10 hours of rest each cycle, maximum. You’ll go over this in more detail with the integration classes, and this is just an overview. It’s likely that until you’re fully healed, your only expectation will be to rest and familiarize yourself with life in the Consolidation.”

You nodded, digesting that. One of the screens on the wall caught your eye, seeing the transport was fully connected and crew was beginning to offload supplies from the trip.

“Any final questions before we head off ourselves?” vie encouraged.

You watched the screen for a few moments, thinking. “Will I… be kept apprised of the findings from the blood moon?”

Joseph’s face made a motion you weren’t sure what it meant. Not even the “you asked a question above your class”, but, something close. “I would have thought you would want to be done with that whole matter, but,” vie trailed off, picking vir words carefully. “I don’t want to say ‘no’. You’re the first person who should know, and you are an extremely valuable asset to piecing together what some of the data is telling. But I am not the only one on the council, and I cannot be the only judge of the classification of that information.” Vie paused again to pick vir words. “Based on your medical screening, future progress in healing your brain—if you are deemed capable of carrying that mental weight—and the official statement I will eventually ask of you on what happened down there, I will happily make the argument of the council to allow you access to the information we gather. It’s only fair you know what happened to you. However… Knowing the delicacy of the situation, do not get your hopes up.”

You nodded quietly. You thought back to the image of the fish, strung up in the tow ship’s cargo bay, so huge it had to be folded back on itself to clear the airlock. How the fuck were they going to transport that thing through this station? Especially secretly.

“You seem a bit troubled?”

You shook your head just a bit. “No, uh. I just. Feel like I have a score to settle with that fish. It nearly ate me.” You looked at your forearm and the bandaging there.

Vie were quiet for a moment. “As one might expect. But. Consider the score settled, with it being dead, hm? Or, that, moving forward is winning the fight.”

Vie were right. It was dead, not much more you could do to it that warheads didn’t already do. You nodded in response to that.

“Shall we head out then?” vie asked as vie moved to stand. Your nod prompted vir to round vir desk and take control of your wheelchair, moving you along with vir out into the hall and down into the maze of corridors.

The transport ship was so huge, that even through what felt like kilometers of hallway, the two of you didn’t see a single soul, even though you could hear announcements being made over the intercom, and knew that disembarking procedures were ongoing. Eventually, you reached a crew disembarkation zone, and exited the transport through the airlock bridge. As thankful as you were to not be being forced to walk, you also felt odd, powerless—the longer you traveled, the more awareness you had of the feeling. Aside from a freak accident on a transport that skinned both your knees nearly to the bone, you’d always been fit and able to run circles around even your Brothers; being reduced to relying on someone else to even move you around didn’t much help you feel free.

Joseph spoke up, pulling your attention from your feeling of powerlessness, as you bypassed several airlocks and entered the station proper; “You should follow along with your PII as we travel; it should have updated now that you’re on station and it’ll give you practice using the map.”

“Uh, sure,” you replied, moving to grab it from your pocket.

Maneuvering it as you moved was a task in and of itself, with how stiff your hand still was. Eventually, you figured out balancing it on your leg and holding it still with the meat of your hand allowed you to stabilize it and tap around on it’s screen. Following the pathing vie showed you earlier, a simple but easily parseable map opened with a tap. In the top right corner of the screen, there was a square that said R1. There was a slowly blinking dot on the screen, located inside the maze-like lines, and it moved pixel by pixel as you did. There were square crosshairs on the map, similar to the ones on the canvas map from the expedition—you stared at them for a disproportionate amount of time; why did that of all things get you? Taking a shaky breath, you tapped on one of them; it opened a dialogue box that stated the point of interest you tapped was the central elevator that led to the different rings of the station. Tapping off the dialogue box closed it. Curiosity outweighed the trauma, and you subsequently tapped on each of the crosshairs you could find in the vicinity; the others included a Community Center, Information Center, and The Trading Commons.

Based on the appearance of the section of the station you were in, you were in a service hall, and based on the map, were moving toward the central elevator. Joseph had been right, there was no fucking way you’d have been able to walk this by yourself, and you weren’t even sure how vie were doing this amount of walking, with you in tow, not at least without needing a break. As vie approached what looked to be a freighter elevator, a thought occurred to you; you tapped out of the map program, and over to your medication tracker. When was the last time you took meds? While you figured the medical center wouldn't put you through a slough of tests without updated meds, trusting that was hard, and it felt imperative in your brain to know and advocate for yourself. 6 hours ago on the nerve blocker, 8 on general meds. They were holding strong, so far, but the window for when the nerve blocker wore off was closing in fast—it usually lasted 8 hours or so, and you knew that figure well now that you’d been able to time it with that little tablet.

“We have record from the researcher who was mutating, stating that her skin turned into pure nerve endings.” Remembering that sentence coming out of David’s mouth made you shudder. What the fuck was that blood shit… And the thought that it had done that to you was something you’d been stewing on for a while. You chewed the inside of your cheek as Joseph stopped you and moved to interact with the elevator.

Vie spotted your jaw working and asked, “Hungry?”

You shook your head; “Thinking,” you grumbled. “Just… what the fuck did that blood do to me…?”

Vie gave you an empathetic look. “We’ll find out.”

“Have you seen my medical records?”

“I have.”

You drew a shaky in breath as the elevator arrived. “...Are you going to send anyone else back to that fucking moon?”

Vie were quiet as vie moved to take back up your chair and move you into the elevator. “It’s too early to say,” vie said as vie hit a destination button on the control panel. “But. With the sheer amount of information we received from the SM-8’s black box, the photos you took, and the specimen, we may not have to.” A more composed sigh of relief left your chest. Joseph’s hand pressed onto your shoulder as the elevator moved. “Don’t let anyone tell you that what you accomplished was anything short of a miracle—not even yourself. What you’ve sacrificed is invaluable, and we owe you much more than just getting you back in working order.”

You twisted to look up and back at vir. Vie nodded, vir face sincere.

“David’s told me you’re having a hard time accepting that we’re not secretly going to kill you—his words, not mine. I want you to hear this straight from me; I am the final authority of what happens to you within the Consolidation—no one can pass judgment upon you without my word. I recognize the great deed that you’ve accomplished, and what it means for the Consolidation—for humanity. I know there’s not much we can do to make it up to you for the horrors you’ve experienced, but I hope we can provide for you all the same. When folks refer to you as a valuable member of the Consolidation, know that you are valuable.”

“How does what I did in that sub make up for Filament Station?” you grumbled.

Vie were quiet until the elevator reached it’s destination. “Well. That wasn’t your fault, was it?”

You felt your face fall into a frown. Vie didn’t say anything further as the elevator door opened and vie moved to begin to roll you again.

You twisted back to sit correctly, face wrinkled in uncertainty. It was hard to believe vir, and every gut instinct screamed not to. You also didn’t have much of a choice in not trusting vir. This was your life now, and if the person responsible for your ultimate judgment was being a benevolent benefactor, how could you turn your nose up at it?

Your eyes fell to the little tablet in your lap; the map had changed, and now displayed R2 in the upper right hand corner. Ring 2? It even kept track of which ring you were on? That’s handy. The layout of this ring was even more mazelike than the previous one, but Joseph seemed to be headed toward a large complex that many of the halls were built around. There was a crosshairs on the complex that when you clicked on it, it declared that to be the medical center. Seemed pretty easy to pick out. Other points of interest in this new locale included Joseph’s office, Anseh’s office, Council Meeting Hall, Maintenance HQ, and half a dozen other offices you didn’t recognize the names of their owners.

As you traveled, you finally encountered other people; a couple passed with brief nods, and another greeted Joseph by name—each gave you a curious glance.

“How many permanent residents are there of the station?” you eventually asked.

“About 50, give or take. There are many more that are considered residents, but are often on mission elsewhere,” vie replied. “The station typically supports around 200 people a day.”

As Joseph approached the medical center, you slipped the little tablet back into your pocket. The complex’s front door slid open at your approach, and vie wheeled you inside. A medic behind the desk just inside looked up, then to her computer to check something, then stood.

“Joseph, magister, welcome back. Safe trip?” she greeted as she moved out from behind the desk.

“Safe and brief, safe and brief,” vie replied, the greeting and response feeling like it was a common salutation.

“And Simon, sir,” she offered a soft hand for you to shake; you did out of courtesy. It was alien to be called by your name by someone you knew to be part of the COI... Years of “convict” had worn on you. And, sir? You certainly weren’t used to that. “I’m Lea, I’ll be one of your medic team. We’ve been expecting your arrival; I’ll bring you back to meet the rest of your team, and we can get started.”

Joseph stepped away from your chair and into your field of view. “Keep me updated on your status. I’ll message you tomorrow to check in if I don’t hear from you this evening. You can always message me any questions or concerns you have as well.”

You nodded to vir. “Thank you, magister.”

“Speedy recovery, my friend,” vie gave you a smile and headed off.

Lea waved to vir before turning back to you. “Would you be opposed to walking? Your file says you’ve been getting better with the transport team, but I would like to gauge how well you’re doing for myself.”

“Sure,” you replied, moving to stand, grabbing your satchel as you did. If anything, it was a relief to finally be out of that chair and under your own power again. You were stiff, as usual, more so even after sitting in that specific chair for so long, and Lea stayed at the ready to help you if it seemed as though you were to have any sudden weakness.

She gave you a nod as you seemed stable on your feet, and deemed it safe to leave your side; she moved the chair to a corner of the tiny lobby, then gestured for you to follow her.

“Uh. How much do you know about what.. uh, happened?” you asked as she led you through more winding corridors.

She walked backwards through the hallways, watching how you shifted your weight and kept a watchful eye out for any distress. “We know your case is evolving, and that there is classified information involved. Information that has been deemed classified but also necessary to your treatment has been declassified solely for us as your medical team; that includes anything you tell us that we find out later was classified.”

Okay, that’s, good to know, but wasn’t very clear. “Like?”

“We know that you were sent to explore an ocean of blood, and that the substance mutated parts of your body. Scans today will find out more about how much has been affected and how,” she said professionally.

“There’s, more to find out?” That was ominous, paired with the info that the scans from on the transport had already found.

“There’s always more to find out,” she said playfully. “The transport was equipped with scanners that are just okay, and geared more toward every day issues; we have scanners here that are far more in depth and powerful, and should give us much clearer answers. If at any time during tests today you need any help at all, even for us to pause a test, please let us know; what you went through sounds awful, and we’ll do our best to facilitate you.”

She stopped at a doorway, and gestured for you to enter. The room was about the size of the med bay on the tow ship, and was lined with several different enormous machines. There was both an exam chair and a bed along one wall, and Lea followed you inside and moved to direct you toward the chair. As you headed that way, you caught sight of two more medics in the room, each looking to be busy with getting machines set up. You set your satchel at the foot of the chair, and as you sat down, you noticed a third fellow in the room, who stood up from a rolling chair across the room and approached.

“Simon, good to finally meet you,” he said, offering a hand to shake. He was an older gentleman, delicate in build but still seemed spry.

His voice was incredibly familiar, “ Wait, Doctor Beckett?” The psychologist you spoke with? The distance between the station and the moon was too great to have gotten a video feed to bounce through the relay, so you hadn’t seen him, only heard him.

He nodded as you shook his hand. “I’m going to be part of your medical team, of course; I hope you don’t mind my sitting in on the tests today, I wanted to get a baseline on your current mental health as the team here got a baseline on your physical health. Especially as I see you were able to start on anti-psychotics once you were on the transport; how has that been going?”

“Good, great. Uh, it’s been helping the hallucinations a lot, and the nightmares too.”

“Good, good! Once the team is done here, I’ll jump back in to schedule our first session here. But, I’ll let these folks get started,” he said, giving you a nod before he headed back to where he’d been seated, and picked up a tablet, probably to take notes.

“Could I have you remove your clothing?” Lea requested. Your face must have given her a look, as she continued: “The team on AT-5 noted several minor injuries that the transport team doesn’t seem to have followed up on, so we need to check everything for your baseline; if this blood stuff mutated you so badly it needed to be surgically excised, we can’t let anything go undocumented.”

You nodded, that made sense. You unzipped your jumpsuit, then leaned down to unlace and kick off your boots. At least that was the easy part; getting them tied again was going to require you to ask for help. As you stood to let the jumpsuit fall off you and toe off your socks, one of the other medics came over from where he had been messing with one of the machines, a tablet in his hand.

He offered you a handshake with his free hand in greeting. “Caleb, I’m your radiotech.” You took his hand—he gave you a strong handshake that nearly threw you off balance. “Last but not least is Margie,” he stated, gesturing to the last medic who was still fighting with one of the computers. “Zhe’s your pain management specialist, but, zhe’s trying to get your previous test results rendered and compare them to the declassified information we have, but it’s been—”

“It’s been hell in a handbasket; it’s like the files are cursed,” zhe spoke up from across the room, not moving a muscle from where zhe sat. “Normally, once a transport docks and files upload to the hub, we just get them. The council must be declassifying things as we speak, only thing I can think of being the issue.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they are cursed, considering what I went through,” you said, hopefully just loud enough for her to hear.

“We’ll start on the basics, you keep fighting, Margie,” Lea called over. Zhe gave her a thumbs up.

Lea wheeled one of those small surgical tables over and grabbed a pair of bandaging scissors from it. “Need visuals on your grafts.” You nodded, and closed your eyes as she started on the ones on your face. The bandaging coming off pinched and drew a grumble from your chest. “When was his meds refreshed?”

“About 8 hours ago,” you replied.

“Oh, you’re on the ball; that’s good!” she chirped. “We would like to document what your pain level is without the medication, so we’ll hold off on giving you your refresh until then.” You opened your eyes to give her a look, and she gave you an apologetic face. “We’re not monsters—once we get a baseline, if you deem it necessary, we’ll get you another round. From your file, it sounds like they’ve been doing so well you haven’t been in anypain, so it’ll be a good baseline for you to know too.”

You nodded, resignedly. That made sense.

Caleb was tapping away on the tablet in his hands as Lea studied your face. “His left eye is discolored,” she spoke toward Caleb, looking between your eyes. “I’m assuming its the left that’s discolored, based on where the damage is. It’s amber instead of the same dark brown as his right.” She looked directly at you when she spoke next; “Do you have any vision issues? Blurriness, doubling vision, a lower light perception through that eye?”

You shook your head. It was the first you were hearing about this. “How bad is my face?” you asked smally.

“The grafts are coming along well! It’s going to have a rough texture once its healed, based on where the donor skin was harvested from, and it looks like you’re going to be missing a chunk of your beard, but the AT-5 surgeon did really well, all things considered.” Moving on from your face, she scrutinously studied your neck where your tattoo was, and gestured to it. “Does this, hurt?”

You shook your head. “That’s been scarred over for a while now.”

“It looks like it’s inflamed.”

You moved to touch it. The scar did feel raised, but beyond that, it didn’t react painfully at the touch. “Huh. It doesn’t hurt, but yeah, the scar feels a bit different.”

“Has anyone noticed that yet?” Lea asked.

You shook your head. “If they did, no one told me.”

Caleb notated that on his tablet. As Lea moved to cut the bandaging off your chest and left arm, you steeled yourself for pain. “Breathe,” Lea said gently.

“I’m… worried about what happens when the nerve block wears off,” you said, trying to focus on breathing.

“That is one thing I caught from the few intact files we got for you,” Margie called from across the room. “Tell me more about that?” Zhe didn’t look away from the computer zhe was fighting with.

“Um. Well. The.. end of what’s left of my left arm is what hurts the most, and it’s unbearable pain when I don’t have the nerve block. My last med team had a theory, based on a discovery I made on the blood moon, that… The blood could have turned the skin into raw nerve cells, and that’s why the general pain meds aren’t touching it.”

Margie turned zer attention from the computer to look at you, and Caleb looked up from his tablet. Margie, in a rolling chair zerself, pushed off the counter and rolled over to stop in front of you. Zhe looked at Lea, who had paused in removing your bandaging in surprise. “Keep going,” zhe demanded of her.

Lea nodded and did so, focusing on removing the bandaging from your left arm. You set your jaw in anticipation for pain, but the nerve block seemed to be intact at least for the moment. As the bandaging fell away, the three medics all leaned in to look at the damaged limb. You’d seen it in previous bandage changes, and it didn’t look any different now; the surgeon hadn’t opted to cut away the entirety of the mutated flesh, and it still had a tumorous and alien growthy look on the edges. You weren’t sure why the surgeon had made that choice, but figured it had something to do with how difficult it would’ve been to put a graft on that specific spot, and how much you’d already bled.

Margie began to notate to Caleb, who in turn tapped it onto his tablet. “Traumatic transhumeral amputation is capped by an unknown growth, appears similar to neurofibromas.” Margie reached for a pair of foreceps on the surgical table, and began to poke at the end of your arm. You couldn’t feel anything zhe did, for now at least,even as zhe began tugging at the growths. Zhe moved to grab a scalpel and cut a small section off, rolling away toward a microscope across the room with it secured.

“I don’t even see why this is still bandaged,” Lea said just above a mutter. “There’s no discharge on the bandaging, and the flesh looks odd but clean and… maybe? Not infected?”

“I, don’t know why this wasn’t all cut off,” you said. “I don’t have any of this on the other spots, I don’t think.”

“If this was enough to stop the bleeding, and the mutating, then the surgeon probably opted to leave it in tact as a stopgap until a touch up surgery can to go through and fix it after your other wound locations were healed,” Caleb spoke up. “That’s a lot of damage, and it’s hard for the body to heal all of what you have going on at once.”

Made sense, and mirrored your own theory.

“Maybe it was wrapped just for aesthetic… Because obviously the wrapping wasn’t to protect it, it’s not sensitive tissue, and if it hurts as much as it does even with the bandaging on, it’s not pain management,” Lea continued her thought train, musing aloud.

“It is condensed nerve tissue,” Margie declared, still looking into the microscope. “It’s the weirdest nerve tissue I’ve ever seen, though—no wonder it hurts. Yeah, you’re staying on nerve block until we can sort that out. ..Shit, it’s cancerous, that’s why it looks weird. It’s benign, as far as I can tell, but I see how it got to looking the way it does.”

You couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. “How do we sort that out?”

Margie looked up at you from zer study. “I need to get these files sorted first, and let Lea and Caleb finish your physical. Then we can talk about that.”

You nodded, and zhe rolled back over to the computer to keep fighting with it.

“Exposed nerve tissue, shit,” Caleb swore under his breath.

Lea finished removing the bandages on your chest. “Medium sized graft over the right collarbone, status is good. Doesn’t look like any of that tumorous growth was left here. Two stitched wound closures on the right deltoid region, no growth left here either.” She moved around to see your back. “Large graft over the right shoulder blade and onto the spine, status is good. No growth here. Several instances of stitched wound closures on the left shoulder blade. Large patches of bruising along the entirety of the back, all in various stages of healing.”

“How did you lose your arm?” Margie asked from across the room, not looking away from the computer zhe was fighting with.

Lea stopped, and looked to your face. You were quiet for several moments, trying to figure out how to describe it in a way that didn’t sound insane—it was the first time anyone had asked you that. “I… I’m not even sure. I…” You took a deep breath, both to steady yourself from the memory and to try and convince yourself it was real. “I got thrown against the side of the sub, and this, tumor-y growth shit was growing all along the walls. It, grew onto my hand, up my arm, and when I tried to free it,” you shrugged, shaking your head slowly, not knowing how else to describe it, “I… pulled away without my arm. It was still stuck to the sub. ...That was… that was when I knew I was a deadman. ..Somehow, I’m still here. It sounds insane, but. Everything about what happened down there was insane. I’m insane…”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” came Dr. Beckett’s voice from across the room, mirth in his tone.

The medic team chuckled at that, but you could only shake your head. “I can’t tell what was real, and what was a hallucination. There was an incident on the transport ship that blurred that line even harder—I hope Tanner put that in my file. Something is wrong about that moon, about me now that I was down there… If I’m not insane, then I’m actually cursed.”

“Well, if you’re insane, then Dr. Beckett’s got you covered. If you’re cursed, then hopefully we’ve got you covered,” Caleb said. You gave him what you hoped was a pleading look, you weren’t sure what exactly your face was doing. He stepped over and held out a fist to you—you hardly recognized the ancient gesture; it was something the kids on Eden hardly remembered from their lives before the Quiet Rapture, and you hadn’t used it since your Brothers stopped using it when everyone had hit adulthood. You moved to tap his fist with yours. “We’re gonna get you fixed up.”

You nodded to him quietly.

Lea moved around to your front to keep looking for things to note. Spotting your right arm bandaged, she moved to take up the scissors again, and began carefully removing the bandaging. “Medium sized graft on the right interior forearm, status is good, no growth left here either. Extensive spiderwebbing of glued cuts?” she asked more than stated, “All along the lower forearm, wrist, and hand, both ventral and dorsal.”

“I, I think that’s more removed growth… It looks like the stuff that grabbed my arm, but, I was able to free my right arm… Just, not my left,” you said quietly.

She nodded, and looked to Caleb to note that. “That makes a lot of sense. How stiff is that hand?”

“Pretty stiff, but, not unusable,” you replied.

She nodded. “How’s the sensation?”

“Uh, alright. The mismatched sides of the wounds have made it difficult to feel things correctly, but, I think once everything’s totally healed it’ll be fine.”

She nodded more, then gestured for you to sit back further on the exam chair; you did, and she moved to examine the graft donation sites on your thighs. “Donation sites are looking good, clean edges and the scabs are intact.” She looked pointedly to you. “I’m not sure if anyone told you, but it’s imperative you do not pick, scratch, peel off, or otherwise damage the scabs here, understand? It’s going to itch like hell itself, but that means it’s healing. Your grafts are going to start itching soon too, but not as badly as the donation sites. These scabs will fall off in time, don’t “help” them—got it?”

You nodded affirmatively.

As Lea moved to inspect several large bruises on your legs, Margie cried, “Aha! Finally, got the files. I’m loading them up into the medhub for comparison.”

“Excellent. Lea’s almost done with the visual inspection, and we’ll move on to the scans soon,” Caleb said.

“Severe bruising on the right lateral thigh looks to be healing nicely. Moderate bruising on left shin is nearly healed.” She moved to look you over once more for anything else of note. “Anything I missed?” she asked you.

“You tell me,” you replied.

She gave you a wry smile. “Let’s get you into the scanner then.”

Caleb moved to put his tablet over by Margie, and then to engage one of the machines along the opposite wall. Lea gestured for you to follow her, and you did so dutifully, hopping down from the exam chair and stepping over to where Lea stopped. From afar, it looked like a giant square along the wall, but as one end of it opened up to release a bed, the inside looked more like a tube.

Your brow furrowed a bit; you’d never had anything worse than a stab wound, or the skinned knees, and you weren’t sure what to expect with this machine.

Lea caught your apprehension, and asked, “Knowing what you went through recently, have you developed claustrophobia?”

You shook your head slowly, uncertainly. “Uh.. I’m.. not sure.”

“For the scan, you’ll need to be enclosed in the machine for about a half hour, lying as still as possible. Think you can manage that?” Caleb asked.

You looked to him, then to Lea. With a steadying in-breath, you sighed; “I can try. Y—you said it can be paused at any time, right?”

“The scan needs to go for the full time, or it’ll need to be restarted to get a clean image. Why don’t we see how you do just being enclosed, and if you’re good, I can run the full-body x-ray. From there, we can see how you’re doing and if we can proceed with the scan,” he offered.

You nodded, and moved to sit on the bed. What was one more tight tube? At least this one was cozy, and not surrounded by blood—or filling with it. Swinging your legs up, Lea moved to help you settle into the right spot, and she instructed you to keep your arm still at your side. Being in position, Caleb gave you a warning, then engaged the machine to slide you inside. It was pitch black once it closed, and there were quiet, indistinguishable machine whirring sounds coming from above you in it’s idle state. You closed your eyes, and that seemed to help.

“How’re you feeling, Simon?” came Caleb’s voice, muffled by the layers of metal.

“Okay, so far,” you said, hopefully loud enough for him to hear. It was deafening to you, though.

“I’m gonna take the x-ray, then,” he said.

The machine whirred up a dozen decibels, then the sound died down again.

“That’s done. How’re you feeling?”

“That was it?”

“Yep, the scan won’t be much louder than that, either, but it’ll go for about a half an hour.”

You thought about it for several moments. “Go for it.”

“Gotcha; remember, you gotta stay really still for this one, so get comfortable. Let me know if you need to get out.”

You shifted a bit to relieve some tension on your back graft as the machine whirred up again. It didn’t get any louder than it previously had, but this time, it sounded like the gears inside were moving all around you, and slowly moving from your head down to your feet. It was a bit disconcerting, but keeping your eyes closed and listening to the machine’s progress was lulling. In fact, it was really hard not to fall asleep; you realized as you began to doze that you probably shouldn’t fall asleep, just in case you had a nightmare.

When the whirring of the machine had reached down around your hips, the medics’ voices drifted in from outside the machine. They were extremely muddled due to the sound of the machine and the mass between you, but it sounded like hushed excited tones. What the fuck did they find inside you? That’s what they were fawning over, right? A light dread crept into your consciousness; what did they find…? You took inventory of yourself as you listened to the whirring; nothing hurt, at the moment. Nothing felt out of the ordinary, not even so much as a tickle. Could something insidious really be hiding in your body; how? Though, that made you think of how you didn’t even realize that your face had gotten fucked up until you woke up with bandaging on it. When did that happen, even?

Retrieving the black box, being submerged in the blood… That didn’t make sense either, though. You didn’t have any weird growths anywhere else on you, so why your—oh right. You’d taken a bash to the cheek, and the drip on your forehead. Did that blood affect you mostly where you already had open wounds? That would make sense… But then, why your eye? And, you hadn’t even noticed anything wrong with your left eye either. You sighed, then remembered you needed to keep still.

Somehow, you managed to not fall asleep, trying your best to listen to the progress of the scan as the machine followed along your body. It made you antsy as it got to your feet, and soon thereafter, the machine whirred quickly back to it’s starting position and then wound down.

“You okay in there?” Caleb asked as the bed seemed to unlock from it’s position, then began to slide you back out.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, then instantly regretted your words as the light of the room hit your eyes. You winced them shut with a groan, then reached for your forehead where you pulled your graft at the reaction. “Ow, fuck.”

“Shit, sorry, forgot to warn you,” Caleb said with an apologetic tone.

A hand grabbed yours before you could touch your forehead; “No, don’t mess with your graft. Let me see it,” came Lea’s voice from the brightness behind your eyelids. She at least let you have your hand back, and you moved it to shade your eyes from the room’s brightness. “I don’t think you dismounted the graft’s inosculation, at least.”

“Is that good?” you grumbled, not recognizing the word.

“Yes, that means you haven’t broken the new blood vessels forming between the graft and the muscle underneath.”

“Huh. That does sound good,” you replied, daring to open your eyes against the light, though not without your hand for a shield still.

“You’re in the healing stage where it’s still establishing itself, so the new vasculature is delicate. One wrong move and you can still slip the whole graft out of place, and it dies.”

“That’s good to know. What got everyone so excited out here, by the way?” you asked, still wincing, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light level.

“We’re waiting for the scan to process so we can share that with you in better detail, but the x-ray had some interesting anomalies on it,” Margie said from where zhe was sitting at the computer.

“Interesting how,” you asked, moving to sit up, satisfied with how much your eyes had adjusted to the light.

“When the scan is processed, we can tell you more,” Caleb reinforced.

“Okay, but, good? Bad? I have 7 days to live?”

“Comparing this to the scan that the transport team got of you, likely you’re fine, but nothing that any of us have ever seen anything like,” Margie replied, clicking around on the computer.

You noticed Lea was holding your clothes, and she offered the bundle to you before you could think about getting up. You took it with a “thank you”, and figured if she was offering it to you, you were allowed to get dressed again, so you did so, carefully. She stood by, at the ready to help, but you were grateful she didn’t automatically move to do so. You looked to her when you realized something; “Do, I need new bandages?”

She shook her head. “Your graft sites are coming along nicely, and at this point other than you being delicate with your movements, they shouldn’t need to be protected with bandaging, or need any drainage sopped up.”

You nodded at that, and continued to dress, but paused once you had your boots on, and sighed, looking up to Lea for help. “Could you, please?”

She looked dumbly between your face and your boots for several seconds until she caught a glimpse of your one hand, then your malformed stump, and realized. “Oh, shit, of course!” She sat on her heels in front of you and laced your boots for you. “I’ll send Joseph a message and see if vie can’t source some boots that you can fasten yourself for you—or, have these altered. Honestly, I’m surprised none of us thought of this sooner…”

You caught Caleb looking over at what was going on. “..Oh,right. We only have a couple folks that come through with upper limb issues, so it’s, really easy to forget. Sorry, Simon.”

You nodded an acquittal at him, and gave Lea a “thank you”. “I, honestly don’t know how I’d be able to put them on if I didn’t have help… I was also given a razor, and now hearing that my beard is going to look like shit, I’m going to have to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to shave one-handed…”

“Fuck, that does suck,” Caleb spat in empathy.

Lea stared at your boots, and you could see the gears turning in her head. She didn’t seem to get anywhere, so she pulled out her little tablet from her pocket and started tapping around on it. “Yeah, I’m. I’m messaging Joseph right now. That’s something that vie’ll be more knowledgeable about.”

Seeing her PII, you reflexively checked for your own—it was still in the pocket you’d put it in. You sighed. A thought came to your mind, and you watched Lea as she typed away. When she seemed done, you asked, “I.. haven’t had it explained to me yet… Who is Joseph? In the COI, I mean. I, have the impression vie’re on the council but. That, just anyone can message vir, that, vie’re going on trips to retrieve a…” you caught yourself before you could say something incriminating, “..Realization Completionist?”

“Anyone can message anyone on the council.” Caleb beat Lea to answering. “The council is the reigning body of the Consolidation, sure, but they’re also the peoples’ representatives. The council doesn’t make a decision without the whole council, and a councilor doesn’t make decisions about a decision until they’ve heard from their people. Their offices are open to the public as well, and the councilors walk amongst the people of the Consolidation with full trust, because they know that the people trust in them.”

You watched him as he continued to mess around with the scanner’s interface, digesting what he said. It was so different here...

Suddenly, the wall between the scanning machine and where Margie sat fighting with the computer lit up.

Margie and Caleb both looked at it simultaneously, and that prompted Lea to wander over to look as well. Wanting to see what all the fuss was about, you carefully stood and wandered after Lea.

What lit up the wall was two images, projected there side by side. On the left was obviously an x-ray. To you, nothing seemed out of the ordinary—but you also didn’t know what you were looking for. On the right was some sort of soft tissue scan, and the way it projected, it was constantly rotating through multiple layers. That was where shit got weird, and it was obvious even to you. All three medics had their eyes laser-focused on the soft tissue scan, and Caleb barely remembered to pull up his tablet to start notation before both Lea and Margie started dictating to him.

“Starting from the head down,” Margie declared. “Multiple concussions including major injury to the frontal lobe, right temporal, and the visual cortex.”

“Soft tissue anomaly of the left side face, looks like the type of anomalous growth as on the left arm remnant, left over from where the surgeon had already excised the surface section. I’m deeming this type of anomaly as ‘Anomaly A’ for brevity of the document,” Lea dictated.

“Left eye has a structural anomaly, but it’s extremely hard to pick out; probably why the eye still functions fine. Can’t tell if it’s Anomaly A.”

“Sinuses have structural anomalies A, but the extent is located mostly in the nasal cavity.”

“Soft tissue of the left cheek has structural anomalies A remnants around where the surgeon excised previously.”

“Tongue has structural anomalies A as well, but the extent is minimal.”

“Scar tissue on the neck is anomalous, but not Anomaly A. I want a biopsy.”

“Anomaly A structures present down the length of the trachea, but the anomalies don’t seem to be impeding usage as evidenced by the scan picking up functionality.”

“Right lung has anomalous A structures, but also doesn’t seem to be impeding function.”

“Guys, slow down,” Caleb grumbled in frustration. You weren’t sure that they heard him.

“Left lung has some bruising, as well as structural anomalies A.”

“The left chest cavity has structural anomalies A on ribs 3-6.”

“Stomach has structural anomalies A in several locations.”

“Liver is showing extensive anomalous A growth, possibly from filtering the malignant blood. Note to run a liver function test.”

“No other visible torso damage, moving on to extremities; traumatic transhumeral amputation of the left arm has extensive anomalous A growths at the terminal end, encasing both the soft tissue and bone. That’s going to be a doozy to fix…”

“Soft tissue around the right collarbone has anomalous A remnants around where the surgeon excised previously.”

“Soft tissue around the right trapezius and the right lateral spine has anomalous A remnants around where the surgeon excised previously.”

“Soft tissue on the right deltoid has anomalous A remnants around where the surgeon excised previously.”

“Soft tissue of the interior right forearm has anomalous A remnants around where the surgeon excised previously.”

“Soft tissue of the right lateral thigh muscle has structural anomalies A.”

“Soft tissue of the left anterior shin musculature has structural anomalies A.”

“Something doesn’t seem right,” Margie eventually concluded as zhe and Lea ran out of immediately noticeable issues.

Your head was spinning, and the blood had left your face trying to process everything you had wrong with you around when Caleb tried to get them to slow down. “Wh—what doesn’t seem right?”

Lea shook her head, “I agree but.. I can’t quite pick it out.”

“You’re this injured, with this extent of anomalous growths, but you’re still standing here with us,” Margie looked to you.

Lea did too, then back to the scan. “…I see it now.” She pointed to where your right thigh was on the scan. “You have an obvious bruise here, enough of one that this should be showing muscle tearing at the very least. In fact, I don’t see any soft tissue damage, just the anomalous tissue.”

Margie turned to look to you, and seemingly a light bulb went on in zer head. “..Hold on.” Zhe turned back to the computer that zhe had been fighting with and started pulling up files on it. “I saw a heavily redacted file pop up while I was trying to get them in order—here it is.”

Zhe sent it to the projector, and it blew up large enough for someone on the other side of the room to read it. It was heavily redacted, but the sections left open for viewing mentioned the properties of the blood from the ocean, including how when the blood came into contact with skin, it mutated the cells first by turning the contacted tissue into stem cells, then rewrote it’s DNA to be a different type of cell.

All three medics looked to you, and you looked between the three of them, confused. “What?”

“The anomalous tissue left in you isn’t just benign tumors, it’s your own local cells that turned into stem cells, that turned into cancerous cells.” Margie stressed.

You shook your head and shrugged. “I don’t, know what any of that means...”

“Stem cells are blank cells, what turn into other types of cells. The blood mutated you by erasing what the affected cells originally were, then turned them into something else,” Lea helped translate.

“It’s why we’re seeing a concentration of the anomalous A structures around wounds and mucosal membranes; it targeted already damaged and structurally weaker cells, easy for it to mutate,” Margie continued.

If you had any blood left in your face, it was gone. “What… does that mean for me?”

“We’re not sure yet. The growths are benign, meaning they won’t continue to corrupt other cells around them, and judging by the scan, your muscles and bones where the anomalous A structures are is functioning like normal cells. Hell, they might just be functioning like normal cells because they are those cells, but, reorganized,” Margie replied.

Lea was now studying the x-ray. She tapped the left side ribs, and when she did, you noticed they looked quite different from the right ones. “You must have had broken ribs, 3-6,” she tapped them, each of them structurally odd versus the ones on the right. “When you had the ocean blood enter your bloodstream in some way, it must have targeted the damage, and “fixed” it. That also is evidenced by the fact we’re not finding any soft tissue damage.”

It was too much to process, and was making your head swim. You moved to go sit back on the exam chair, not sure how long your balance was going to hold. Lea had followed you to make sure you were okay—you didn’t even notice until you had sat back down. You gave her an appeasing nod and a hand gesture, trying to brush her off—really, you just needed to sit, and process.

Margie and Caleb were continuing to pour over the soft tissue scan, often looking back to the x-ray to cross reference. Margie had tapped a couple times on the computer, and was now manually controlling the scan’s animation, making the image look like it was slicing through you with light.

“Does anything hurt, right now? Other than the graft you pulled,” Lea asked.

You could only shake your head. “No the, meds are still working well. When I, uh, heard you talking out here, real excitedly, I tried to. Take inventory of myself and, honestly, I don’t feel any different than I did before I went into that sub. I—I dunno if that’s the meds or the… mutations just. Can’t be felt, or.. I dunno.”

Lea moved to take her little tablet out of her pocket and inspected it. “You said you had taken your meds about 8 hours ago, about an hour ago. How long have those been lasting for you?”

“About 10. The nerve block, about 8, and, that’s the one I’m most worried about.”

She nodded, “Of course, of course. How willing are you to come off the nerve block, so we can get a baseline pain level for it?”

You took a deep, apprehensive breath. “I… I’ll do it, but—”

“I’ll get a syringe ready right now so once you tell us you can’t handle it anymore, it’ll be ready to go.”

You took a shakier breath. “Okay,” you said, just above a whisper.

“I can make it up, Lea,” Margie called over, rolling zer chair away from the wall where zhe’d been studying the projection.

“Margie’s real good at it, and we’ve got the good stuff too,” Lea said with mirth. She looked you up and down, and seemed as though she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to ask her next question. “Up to one more test? I know you just had a lot of really bad news dumped on you, but, I need to know if you’re going to need to stay with us. I need to know how much walking you can do, since, as you saw coming in, we’re not a small station.”

“Sure, how, do we do that?” you asked, trying to even out your breathing and get your body back in order to do the best you could.

“Best way is just to take a walk. I can bring the chair with us, for when you need it, and I’ll show you around the station a bit. How’s that sound?”

You nodded, “Sure, sounds good.”

“Have you tried walking and talking? I know Tanner’s not the most gossipy of sorts,” she teased.

You cracked a smile. “Not, much.”

“I can talk at you then, don’t feel the need to respond if you’re trying to focus on your breathing, then.”

In a sudden clamor of steel wheels on the bulkhead, Margie rolled over in zer chair, coming to a stop right at Lea’s side. Zhe offered up a capped syringe to her. “Just in case the nerve block wears off early, or y’all walk longer than an hour or so.”

Lea took it and stashed it in one of her pockets. “Perfect, thank you Margie.”

Margie looked to you. “I’m going to keep studying your scan, and that biopsy of the anomalous tissue I took, and compare them to the documents we just got. I have theories, and I want to make hypotheses before we make any plans of action. Right now, things sound scary, I know. I think you’re fine. We just gotta figure out how fine you are, ‘kay?”

You nodded.

“You’ve given us a good puzzle. It’s been a while since we had one of these, so you’ve got our full attention,” zhe gave you a wry smile. “I’ll keep you updated with our findings.” With a well-executed kick off the exam chair’s base, Margie rolled away, back to the computer zhe’d been fighting with.

Lea nodded her head toward the door, gesturing for you to follow her. She paused and looked across the room as you stood; “Dr. Beckett, want to join us?”

You’d almost forgotten he was here; you watched as he stood and strode up to you; “The more the merrier, hm?” he stated.

Lea moved to head toward the door that you came through, and you dutifully followed her, Dr. Beckett following you. She walked backward down the hall again, keeping an eye on your movements, but didn’t do so the whole way—eventually, she turned the right way around and trusted that you were walking just fine. As she led you back to the tiny lobby, she grabbed the chair she’d stashed earlier, and moved to push it in front of her.

Heading out of the complex’s sliding door, she fell in step with you, walking at your pace. She led you down the same corridor that you had arrived through, and this time, you tried to focus on looking at your surroundings. The ceiling of the ring was a good several stories above, which made the complexes and buildings that made up the walls of the maze feel very short. The station was relatively bright, something that once you noticed it, surprised you—Eden was quite dark, lit only along the halls; but then again, Eden wasn’t built in rings like this station was. It was obvious upon thinking about it that Eden was built to let in starlight—it was a colony station. This station seemed to be built to be a trading hub, hence it’s size and more utilitarian build.

“You look like everything is all new to you,” Lea commented.

“It is… I’ve.. been on other stations before, but… Eden is built so differently from the other stations I’ve been on. I never actually noticed how different before,” you said, paying attention to how you were breathing as you spoke and walked.

She looked up to try and see what you were looking at. “How so?”

“It’s.. built in layers, levels. Most walls of the station are glass. Since the Quiet Rapture, it’s been so dark, since it was meant to let in sunlight. Here, it’s bright, because the walls weren’t made to do that.”

“Huh,” she gave a contemplative sound, “I never thought of that.”

Before you knew it, you had wandered up to the central elevator. As you stopped and studied it, Lea spoke up; “How are you feeling, walking so far?”

You nodded, “Doing okay.”

“Any pain, weakness, shortness of breath?”

“Breathing, but.. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Why don’t we go to the Commons; there’s plenty of places to sit down there, and we can introduce you to how the Consolidation operates its food service,” Dr. Beckett spoke up from behind you.

You and Lea both moved to look to him, your face questioning as she replied, “That’s a great idea, doctor, let’s do that!” You watched as she moved to tap the call button—it slid open immediately.

“You’re not the first Edenite that I’ve helped, son,” Dr. Beckett said gently as you stepped into the elevator as a group. “I know a bit about what it’s like, thanks to the folks that came before you, ones much like you—rougher around the edges, than you, though.”

Son… You set your jaw at hearing yourself be called that again, but by a much gentler voice. You chewed on that as you watched Lea reach for the control panel to the elevator. You noticed she tapped a button on a panel that was labeled Habitation; there was a different panel labeled Service, and it was pretty easy to figure that the elevator would spit you out on either a sub floor or a different section of maze based on which button you pushed.

As the elevator moved, a thought came to you, and you moved quickly to pop the collar on your jumpsuit, and zipped the zipper up as far as it’d come. Lea caught the movement, and you could see her look at you out of the corner of your eye. You could barely hear Dr. Beckett tapping on his tablet behind you. Without much of a warning, Lea’s hand was placed on your right shoulder. You looked at her questioningly as the elevator came to a stop.

“You didn’t catch yourself working your shoulder, did you? Are the meds starting to wear off?” She pointed out.

You blinked blankly at her. Turning your attention to your shoulder, it was indeed beginning to pinch. “Ah, shit, I didn’t even realize... I might’ve pulled my back graft…”

She nodded. “You can do a little bit of pulling, but I need you to be cognizant of it right now, because the more you begin to hurt, the more your muscles are going to want to protest or work out the pain,” she warned as the elevator door slid open once more.

You nodded in affirmation and moved to stick your hand in your pocket—it slid in comfortably along side your little tablet, and you gripped it for something to keep your attention on.

Lea stepped out, and started to lead the way. You hadn’t been in this sector of the first ring before, and the space was open and bright. Just like the offices ring, this ring was several stories tall, and was lit from far over head by warm colored lights. As you walked in further, the din of chatter became audible.

Rounding a corner, the sight made you stop and stare. The open space widened out into a huge vaulted area, occupied with many tables and chairs, even several seating arrangements of sofas facing each other. There were a few dozen people milling about, sitting and chatting or eating, or standing near the edges of the area. The walls of the area had alcoves just like that which Joseph had described to you, with a single person behind a half wall talking with someone on the outside, or working on various tasks. The smell of food cooking was enrapturing, and it finally clicked in your head what had been described to you.

“What the fuck,” you breathed just above a mutter.

Lea had turned to look to Dr. Beckett. “He’s, really never seen a commons?”

“No, we—we didn’t have anything like this,” you said, still looking around a bit awestruck.

“It’s something all the Eden folks I’ve worked with have been perplexed at,” Dr Beckett confirmed.

“No, we. We had scheduled meals and meal times, and. Folks from different clans had their own living spaces. You’re saying anyone can come and just sit here, at any time?” you looked to them both.

“For the most part. If you’re scheduled to be working somewhere, then you’re expected to be doing your work there, but some work can be completed while spending time in the Commons, and if you’re taking your official rest period, you can spend as much of that time here as you want.” Dr. Beckett explained.

“It’s a good place to come and get the latest gossip, too,” Lea added. She gestured for you to follow her, and she began walking into the area—you followed dutifully.

She led you on a circuit around the outer edge of the seating area, which gave you time to amble past the stalls to get a decent look at them. There was half a dozen different ones that were dedicated to food, each one with pictures that displayed different preparations of the ingredients they offered. Each one smelled divine, and that was perplexing. Nothing here was familiar at all, and just trying to comprehend it was making your head hurt.

What kind of hydroponics did the COI have, that Eden didn’t? You’d always known Eden to be the station with the best hydroponics of the stations left after the Quiet Rapture, so to know that there was different food here was baffling.

As your head swirled with the idea, Lea’s little tablet started to make noise, and she pulled it out of her pocket. She held it up to her ear and then spoke toward it; “Joseph, magister, what can I do for you?” She paused as though she were listening to a comms unit. “We’re still running our tests; we’re currently in the Commons testing his ambulation.” She paused, then pulled the little machine from her face, tapped on it’s screen, and held it toward you.

Before you could take it, Joseph’s voice came out of it; “Simon, I’m so sorry, it completely slipped my mind your limb deficiency when I was putting together your personal effects. That is extremely unprofessional of me, and I’m working to remedy that as we speak. Lea says you’re currently in the Commons; could you stop by Morrison’s stall and introduce yourself? Hy is the one I’m commissioning to get you more accessible gear, and if hy can see your abilities for hymnself, then it’ll give hymn a better idea of what the situation is.”

“Uh, of course, magister,” you said aloud, though, you weren’t sure if vie could hear you.

“Excellent—do keep me up apprised to the situation! And if you run into any other issues with your gear and hand count limitations, do let me know immediately,” vie replied. “Lea, privately, please.”

She tapped on her little tablet, then put it back to her ear. As she did so, she began to walk in the same direction she had been traveling, prompting you to follow her. “Of course, magister. ..Of course, magister. ...Yes, magister. Will do, magister.” She moved to slide her little tablet back into her pocket. She turned to look to you. “How are you doing walking? We’ve been going at a pretty slow pace, but I want to make sure you’ll be able to stand and speak with Morrison; hy can be a bit of a talker,” she said with mirth.

You nodded. Things were starting to hurt, but standing wasn’t too bad. “I, should be okay… The, meds are wearing off, but. It’s not too bad right now.”

She nodded. “If you’re comfortable, I’m going to push your limits. Think you’ll be good to continue if you get to sit and rest a bit after speaking with Morrison, then head back to the medical center?”

You nodded. She nodded in return and walked over to one of the occupied stalls nearby. A banner above the alcove looked to be painted to say, “Morrison’s Tailorship: Fibercraft, Alterations, and Garment Recycling.”

A tall, scruffy, older fellow within the alcove was speaking animatedly to someone already, but gave your group an acknowledgment when Lea approached. Hy did a double take, however upon glancing you, and waved you over spiritedly. The patron already at the stall looked over as you approached, and seeing Morrison’s reaction to your presence, gave hymn a “I won’t keep you”, and they parted with a polite wave. You stepped up, a bit overwhelmed by the excited reaction.

“Let me guess, you must be Simon,” Morrison spoke, hys voice obviously reigned in to a polite volume from what sounded like could be the level of a ship’s engine.

Hy offered a hand to you from across hys counter, and you took it; hys hand shake was as spirited as the rest of hys movements. “That’s me, yeah,” you replied.

“We don’t get many folk with upper limb issues, so Joseph called me in a muddle about helpin’ you out—said you can’t tie your boots. Easy fix, easy fix. Lemme get a good look at ya—“ As he looked you over, you gave Lea an uncertain look. Was hy always like this? She gave you a smile and nodded. “Left arm gone; which is your dominant hand?”

“Uh, my right, thankfully.”

“Good good! Easiest fix for boots for you is gonna be zippers on the in-side. Let me check real quick if I have a pair of zippers that strong,” hy said before turning to wander further into hys stall. You got a good look into his stall while hy dug around; there was more fabric present in overflowing boxes and crates than you’d ever seen in one place. A lot of it looked like scraps, not enough to make a full garment out of, but you thought about how hys sign said “garment recycling”. Huh.

“Are, you the one that Joseph was talking about when vie said, something about getting, chosen clothing?” You asked, almost shyly.

“Sure am! Bring me supplies, bring me fabric, trade me your time—shit, get me a doughnut from down the way and I’ll do what I can to fix you up with what you’re looking for,” hy said as hy continued to dig through hys supplies. What was a doughnut? “Hell. If you’d like, I can even trim and stitch up your jumpsuits’ arm for ya, only charge would be I get to keep the off-cuts—I’m always in need of official canvas for patches.”

That made you glance at your left arm. Ianthe had pinned up the loose fabric so it wasn’t flailing about unwieldily, and it did seem like a waste. Shit, your other one was in the medical center still. “I’ll have to take you up on that.”

“Good man, good man,” hy said as hy studied a zipper in hys hand. Hy compared it to another one in hys hand, then wandered back up to the counter, seemingly satisfied with hys selection. “What size boot you wear; I can work on them today and have you pick ’em up tomorrow.” You gave hymn your measurements with a curious look. Hy nodded, and said: “I got plenty of boots back here, and the work is on Joseph’s dime. You’ll just need to trade me the boots you got when you come up for your new ones. Sounds good?”

You nodded. “Thank you, seraph,” you said, and hy offered you hys hand again.

“Come back any time. Joseph said any alterations for making things able for you to do is on vir,” hy said as you shook hys hand.

“Good to know. Thanks again,” you gave hymn a polite wave and moved to rejoin Lea and Dr. Beckett.

“How’re you doing?” Lea asked.

You took inventory; you hadn’t realized that Morrison’s high energy had worn you down so much, and hy had kept your attention so well that you hadn’t registered how sore you’d become. “Sore,” you said, definitely feeling like that was the right word. Your body ached, your grafts itched, but thankfully, the nerve block hadn’t worn off yet.

“Do you need to sit down, or do you think you can make it back to the medical center?”

You thought about it for a second. Your right thigh was starting to complain, and sitting sounded like a really good idea, but you also weren’t sure if you could get back up if you sat down. You also registered that your breathing had become a bit labored; that left lung felt stiff, and the bruising the medics had mentioned was pressing against your ribs with each breath. “Let’s… let’s head back. I’m… If I need to sit, I’ll let you know.”

Lea nodded and moved to keep moving the way you’d been heading. Rounding back to where you’d come in, the short hallway back to the elevator brought with it an agonizingly slow wait for it to arrive, unlike the last couple times you’d taken it today.

Lea checked her little tablet, muttering something about wondering if a shipment had arrived and was occupying the elevator, when the stabbing pain hit your left arm. You were able to bite back a reaction to the first couple pins and needles, but Lea seemed to catch onto your distress by the time the pain had begun to hit fully. “What’s the pain at,” she asked objectively as she stepped away from the chair she’d been accompanying the entire time, and to your front, where she pulled down the zipper on your jumpsuit to about your sternum, and pulled back the fabric so she could get a clean shot at the nerve where medics had put the blocker before.

“Fuck,” was all you could get from between your gritted teeth.

You hardly registered that she’d had taken the syringe Margie gave her out of her pocket, pulled the cap off with her teeth, and had stuck you, over the pain. The white hot searing pain retreated into pins and needles, then emptiness once more, and it wasn’t until then that you could think again. “Could—I, have.. the..” youtried to say between breaths in a small voice. Lea was quick to figure out what you wanted, and moved the chair over for you to sit in. You did so, gratefully, moving slowly. “Thank you,” you breathed, trying to catch your breath.

“Well, that’s a good enough baseline for that, I think!” she declared, moving to cap the syringe so she could put it back into her pocket and then pulled out her little tablet and began to tap around on it. “Definitely raw nerve tissue, definitely need to stay on the nerve block until that gets fixed.”

You slumped into the chair unceremoniously, mentally declaring that they’d have to dump you out of the chair to make you leave it. Everything hurt now, and even vocally replying to anything Lea felt like you didn’t have the energy to do, so you didn’t.

“Hopefully Margie and Caleb have found something that they can do about that, in the time we’ve been gone,” she said, making a relieved cheer when the elevator door finally opened. She had to wait though, as several occupants had to disembark before your group could get on.

Exhausted, you didn’t catch much of the trip back to the medical center, and it wasn’t until Lea roused you that you even registered that you were back in the exam room.

“He was doing so well, I really thought he was going to make it back to the center under his own power; if it hadn’t been for the nerve block wearing off, he would’ve,” Lea said to the other medics, who, as you came-to, you noticed were also right in front of you.

Margie was still sitting on zer chair and was studying you scrupulously. Caleb was typing on his tablet once again, taking notes. “How’re you feeling?” zhe asked.

It was hard to reply, and at first, all you gave zer was a sigh. “Tired,” you managed to slur out.

Zhe nodded. “I can see that. You were so full of energy until that blocker wore off; that has to be some awful pain, huh?”

It took all your focus to nod even a little.

“Want a little pick-me-up? Margie special,” zhe said wryly.

You weren’t sure if your face was making the questioning brow furrow you wanted it to.

Zhe chuckled. “You look like you need it. Hold tight.” Zhe rolled away with the tell-tale clatter of metal wheels on the bulkhead.

You managed to look to Lea and Caleb, and this time you think that your face had the questioning expression you were trying to make. Lea chuckled and said, “Zhe’s got a special concoction for an energy boost.”

“It’s gotten us through some long nights,” Caleb commented. “What do you think, Lea, think we’ll need to keep him over night?”

“If Margie’s pick-me-up doesn’t get him back up and running, probably. Otherwise, I actually think with a med refresh he’ll be just fine to sleep in his own bed tonight,” she replied, giving you a smile.

Margie rolled back shortly after holding a syringe, and moved to pinch some of the skin on your forearm. “It’ll go right under the skin and absorb pretty quickly. Little caffeine, little electrolytes, little bit of a secret sauce—” zhe gave you a stick that finally registered in your brain, being somewhere you usually didn’t get poked in. Zhe slowly pushed on the plunger, and it smarted and felt weird being injected; once zhe was done, zhe withdrew the needle and gave your arm a pat. “There. Couple minutes, and you’ll be running from one end of the ring to the other, promise.”

You managed to give zer a single breath of a chuckle as zhe rolled away again.

But, over the couple minutes she promised, you did seem to get some energy back. You shook the fog out of your head carefully, and winced gently as your brain began to process pain again. You moved your hand to scrub at the good side of your face—just now realizing that you’d been out and about without bandages on your graft. That had to have been a sight to see—a fucking ugly one.

“How’re you feeling?” Lea asked.

It was getting a little tiring being asked that. “Like a forklift hit me,” you grumbled.

She chuckled. “Well, you can make a sentence, so I’d say that’s another win for Margie’s pick-me-up.”

“Then backed up, and ran me over,” you continued.

You got a chuckle out of Caleb. “Joking is a good sign. What’s your pain level at now,” Lea asked between giggles.

You took a deep sigh as you took inventory. “It’s… hard to tell what’s pain, and what’s exhaustion, right now,” you said.

“Take your time. The cocktail may not have totally kicked in yet, too.”

You moved to sit up straighter in the chair, which definitely helped put some of the pain points into perspective. “It’s.. livable. Everything hurts but, if I didn’t get the general pain meds, I think I’d live.”

“What hurts the most?” Lea asked as Caleb tapped away on the tablet.

“The, uh, bruised lung. My thigh. The grafts,” you rattled off as you tried to focus on where the pain was.

“Anything internal? Any of the locations we found the anomalous growths?”

You tried hard to think about where those locations were, and focus on anything, but there just wasn’t anything bothering you. “Not that I can feel, no.”

“That’s promising,” Margie said as zhe rolled back over. “Little more awake now?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you gave zer a chuckle.

Margie sat forward with zer elbows on zer knees, then looked to Lea. “I want to keep him over night. I want to monitor his pain level, without general pain meds. Are you up to that?” zhe asked you.

You sighed. “Sure,” you said, defeatedly.

“It’s up to you if you want to,” zhe reinforced.

“I—I know. But, I also want to know if I can go without them.”

“This isn’t about how stoic you are, it’s about how bad your injuries are. Especially with this growth shit, we don’t know if that’s hurting you or not. Pain meds are easy to synthesize, so you’re not wasting resources, either. Understand?” Margie said with a serious tone, giving you an equally serious look.

Oh… You nodded meekly.

“The body heals better when it’s not in pain, so once we get a good base line, you’ll definitely get more, okay?”

You nodded. “Any… any decisions on what to do about my arm?”

Zhe sat upright in zer chair. “Not yet. I’m in between the two options that Tanner mentioned you two talked about in your file. I don’t want to go and cut the nerve to your arm in case that fucks up your ability to tell when there’s actual pain and damage in that limb, but I’m also uncertain that without removing more of the limb, that we’d be able to completely excise the raw nerve tissue. We can do that, but if we do, and that doesn’t fix it, then you’ll have to go through not just another surgery, but more down time, more nerve block, more pain… It’s a tough decision. What do you think?”

You sat with that for a while. “How.. much more of the limb? It’s, not doing anything being there like it is. Can’t I just say, take the whole thing off? Would that be enough?”

Zhe rolled that over in zer brain, you could see the gears turning. Zhe turned and rolled back over to the computer and the wall where the scan was projected earlier, and turned the projection back on. Zhe studied it for a good minute or two, then made a thinking motion with zer head. “Yeah. I can see if we took the rest of the remainder off, probably leaving the ball joint, that would remove any remaining scanable anomaly A tissue. But, I want to hazard, that because we don’t know much about the anomaly, that if we did that, we don’t know if it would truly end the pain. While I don’t see any more anomalous tissue that far up, the simple fact of we don’t know makes it tough to give a solid estimate.” Zhe turned to you to see your face.

You took a deep, steadying breath. “I’d say just, take the whole thing. It’s not doing me any good as it is, is it?”

Zhe nodded. “Let’s plan for that in a couple days, then. I want your baseline established so I know that you’d be good for another major surgery so soon. Probably best to keep you here until then, now that I think about it; wouldn’t have to teach you how to administer the nerve block yourself, or need you to come back every 9 hours to have it re-administered.”

You nodded quietly. That made sense, but being honest with yourself, you had really wanted to see what the apartment was all about, so that was disappointing to agree with.

Margie rolled back over in zer chair, and looked over at Caleb and Lea. “I can get him settled in to one of the rooms if you two wanted to head off to other tasks.”

Lea nodded. “You know where I’ll be if you need me,” she said to zer, then gave you a parting wave before heading off. “Rest easy!”

“I’ll keep looking over those scans, see if there isn’t anything we missed,” Caleb said to Margie. Zhe nodded to him as he walked of.

Zhe looked back to you, “You look like you would love a shower. With wounds like yours, you’ve probably endured a lot of cloth baths.”

You lit up at zer words. “I would kill for a shower.” Why the fuck did you say it like that? Zhe chuckled at your immediate reaction, though. The thought of showering also made you think of an important question; “Is there water rationing?”

Zhe gave a nod. “You get 10 minutes of shower water each day; there’s a timer in your apartment’s shower stall that lets you know how much you have left, so if you’re quick, you could even get two in. We have a laxer restriction here since folks who have to stay here tend to have more complex bathing needs, which, you definitely do, so before we get you settled into your room for your stay, we can get you in the shower. Only, though,” zhe stopped you before you could get too excited, “if you promise to be super careful, and extremely delicate with those grafts. If you kill one of your grafts because I let you have a shower before you were completely ready, you’ll have to answer to me, got it?”

You nodded sheepishly.

Movement from the other side of the room caught your attention. Dr. Beckett stepped up from where he’d been sitting previously—you’d been so out of it when you got back, you didn’t even realize he’d returned to where he’d been before your walk.

“Before you run off to do so, let’s schedule to meet,” he said. Oh, right. You nodded, and he pulled up his tablet. “Sleepcycle starts at 2200, and the wake cycle at 800. I can stop by at 1000 to ensure that you’re awake and any waking duties by the medics have been finished.”

“That sounds good,” you looked to Margie, who also nodded.

“I do want to bring something to attention before I head out; your anti-psychotic medication.. Tanner put in your file that it is of the utmost priority that you get that medication. So that Margie knows as well, what is the reason for that level of importance?” Dr. Beckett watched you carefully.

“Did… did ze not put the.. what happened in my file?”

“Ze did. I don’t know if Margie read it; could you please go over the incident?”

It was painful to remember, and your hand moved almost by itself to your neck protectively. “My.. med refresh had slipped, and I had a nightmare, that became real.” You watched Margie, who was watching you intently. “It sounds insane, but, something followed me off that moon. It—it’s… It’s me, but… what I think was supposed to have happened to me. It’s… missing the same arm, it, has my tattoo, but it’s… covered in this growth shit, head to toe, and it’s mouth is split open with teeth, like the—” you paused, unsure if the med team should know about the fish monster, “the… thing that actually almost killed me down there. In that nightmare—my nightmares usually are exactly what happened in that sub… But, in that nightmare, the hallucination monster that’s been menacing me changed the nightmare, and it was there instead of what almost killed me. It woke me, but, it was also in my room, choking me. It—it always disappears when someone other than me interacts with it, and the med team running in saved me.”

Margie looked to Dr. Beckett, who nodded to zer; zhe looked back at you. “How long has a dose of the anti-psychotic been working for you?”

“T—this happened after 12 hours since last dose,” you replied.

Zhe nodded. “Okay. We’ll have you on 10 hour doses.”

“I want to reinforce, doctor, that the anti-psychotic is not to stop him from self-harming,” Dr. Beckett said extremely pointedly. “He doesn’t have a history of it. With eye witness testimony, he’s telling the truth that something that was invisible to the eye-witnesses was physically effecting him from outside his control. We may not understand what that is, but with the evolving investigation into what was on that moon, we cannot rely on known conventions.”

Margie stared at him with a furrowed brow. “Doctor, how can a hallucination choke someone?”

“We don’t know. All we know, is that Simon has been through something we cannot understand, and we have to give him the benefit of the doubt that his hallucinations are quasi-physical. It is imperative that you accept that, especially now that one has threatened his life,” Dr. Becket said very seriously.

Zhe looked back at you, eyes trailing to your deformed arm. That seemed to put the pieces together in zer head for zer, and zhe nodded once in acknowledgment. “Yes, doctor,” zhe said. “Thank you for bringing that to my attention. Catch that, Caleb?”

Caleb appeared as though he was trying very hard to look like he not was paying attention to the conversation that was going on, but he turned at being called out to. “..Yes, doctor.”

“I’ll make sure Lea gets the note too,” Margie declared. Zhe turned to you. “I’m sorry that I assumed the worst of you; this is definitely outside of one’s normal expectations.”

You nodded, grateful for Dr. Beckett’s backing you. “When I’m on the anti-psychotic, I don’t see that thing. I’ve had a couple nightmares, but they were tame in comparison to that one.”

Margie nodded. “Good. Let’s hope that all of this will be solved with time, letting your brain heal from those concussions. Otherwise, you really are cursed.”

You cracked a smile at that. “I told you earlier…”

Dr. Beckett moved to offer you his hand to shake, and you did so. “We’ll get you fixed up, son. It’s the very least we can do.”

“Thank you, doctor,” you said, gratefully.

“1000 tomorrow, let me know if anything comes up,” he said with a gentle smile and moved to head out of the room.

“Let’s get you that shower then, then I can get you settled into a room here with us, then get you some food,” Margie said, nodding zer head toward the hall. “Think you can stand?”

Zer cocktail had continued to give you some energy, but you made an uncertain sound in reply to zer question. You tested your legs a bit before moving to push yourself up off the chair—it was uneasy first motion to get upright, but although Margie stood from zer chair for the first time since you’d seen zer in case you needed help, you managed to stay steady on your feet once up. After making sure you were stable, zhe moved to grab your satchel from where you’d set it earlier, and motioned for you to follow her.

A knock at your room’s door woke you. Margie had opted to leave your door cracked, just like Tanner had, just in case you needed assistance and the medical team needed to hear you, so while light filtered in from the hallway, it was partially blocked by the visitor.

“Wakey, wakey,” came Caleb’s voice shortly before he opened the door a bit wider.

You stuffed your face into your pillow to block out the higher level of light. “What’s wrong?” you grumbled into the pillow.

“It’s wake cycle—actually, it’s like, 0845. We opted to let you sleep while we got the day started, but now I’m here to get you up for check in and your appointment,” he said, the sound of a rolling chair scooting closer to your bed echoing in the room.

You let out a pathetic grumble. It’d been a long fucking time since you’d been expected to adhere to a sleep schedule, and it wasn't until this exact moment that you realized how nice that was.

“I’ve got your med refresh; surely you’re gonna want that without giving me much of a fight?’ he said with mirth. “Actually, seeing how well you’ve slept through the night is really promising, considering you’ve been off general pain meds for about 15 hours.”

“I can’t tell if I’m sleeping because it hurts, or it’s not hurting enough to get in the way of sleep,” you grumbled, moving to let the light into your closed eyes gently so they got used to it.

“Could be both, really. Do you remember Margie coming in to give you a new nerve block?”

You had to think about it. Grogginess blurred everything, but you had a vague recollection of at least being woken up in the middle of the night. “I think so? Maybe..”

“Zhe noted you weren’t super responsive, but, I’m told that’s also pretty normal for someone with your level of injuries, finally getting proper sleep. How’s your pain right now?”

With a huge sleepy sigh, you moved to rub sleep from your eyes and shove hair out of your face, still wincing against the light, but less so. It gave you a chance to focus on what hurt as consciousness returned to your brain. “Uhm.. The grafts. My ribs.” You winced further against the light as you registered that your head hurt, too. “My head?”

Caleb didn’t respond immediately, and you could hear him tapping on his tablet. “Head pain new?”

“Yeah,” you muttered.

“Could be that the pain meds have been taking care of the concussion pain pretty well, and now that you’ve been off them for a good length of time, your body’s beginning to register that pain,” Caleb offered. It sounded like he was typing that into his tablet too.

“Makes sense; sucks though,” you grumbled.

“How bad is the pain?”

Oh right, he’d asked how bad it hurt, and you rattled off body parts. Oops. You had to sit with that for a moment. “With the light, the headache is making it hard to open my eyes.. Grafts, feel tender but, I’m not moving much yet.. Breathing still hurts, but. It’s more irritating than limiting.”

“No nightmares?”

“No,” you replied, “thankfully just restful sleep.”

“Good,” you could hear Caleb tapping away on his tablet. “Think you can sit up to take your meds?”

You took a deep breath to sigh, ribs pinching at the pressure. You tenderly moved in the way you’d been practicing to prop yourself up on your elbow, then push yourself upright, without pulling too terribly on your grafts. Sitting up by itself wasn’t too bad, but it was really hard to force yourself to open your eyes. It didn’t seem as though Caleb had turned the light to the room on, and it was solely the light filtering in from the hallway that was bothering you. You offered your open palm, upright, to receive the tablets, and Caleb carefully dumped them there.

“If the light sensitivity doesn’t get any better with the pain meds kicking in, I’ll let Dr. Beckett know when he arrives that it’ll be an issue,” Caleb said as you threw the meds back, then he handed you a glass of water.

“Here’s hoping the meds deal with it,” you grumbled after downing half the glass to chase the tablets.

“I’ll note you’ve taken your meds for you, with a note that I’m doing so because of the light sensitivity,” he said, tapping on his tablet. You muttered him a thank you, and he nodded. “Most importantly, do you feel any weirdness, in any of those spots we found anomalous tissue? It doesn’t even have to be pain—stiffness, tickling, anything out of the ordinary?”

Trying to ignore the pain in your head was difficult, especially when it was exacerbated by attempting to focus. Steadying your breathing pattern, you moved your attention down through your body, not even trying to remember where the anomalies were, instead trying to just focus on feeling. After several long minutes of trying, you could only shake your head. “Nothing. No weird pulling, no pain, stiffness… Nothing. I feel, normal. Aside from the obvious painful spots.”

He took note on his tablet. “I don’t want to say that’s promising, because we don’t actually know—but at least it’s not hurting you, and that’s what we wanted to know. Now, Margie really wanted me to get a vial of blood from you for doing some testing; she’s concerned about how your liver’s doing after filtering that ocean blood, and getting a bunch of growths. Up to me taking some?”

You nodded. Actually, it was really weird that no one had taken blood for testing yet. You’d’ve thought that was the first thing any of them would do, after, y’know, being in a blood ocean. Caleb placed his tablet beside you on the bed, and rolled a bit closer to you. He pulled a syringe out of his pocket and uncapped it, and gestured for your arm; you held it out for his access. After feeling around a bit for a good spot, he gave you a stick, withdrew some blood, and removed the syringe.

“How’s your head and sight doing?” he asked as he kept one hand on where he’d stuck you with an even pressure.

You’d watched him just fine, and it seemed as though the light level had gotten to be tolerable, though the pain was taking it’s good-nature time receding. “It’s, better than before, but my head’s pretty tender still.”

He nodded. “While I was here, I was hoping to show you something—hopefully, you’ll be able to see.”

Your brow furrowed as he took his hand back to recap the syringe, and after sliding it into his pocket, he moved to pull down the collar on his own jumpsuit. Your eyes widened—scarred not unlike your own, but still with enough stark contrast of the thin black lines against pale skin, was the symbol extremely familiar to you; “Brother?”

He gave you a small, knowing smile, and offered his fist to you, just as he had when he had reassured you yesterday. You tapped his fist with yours, completing the gesture, and you both moved to clasp hands and pull each other into a tight hug—him doing so carefully so as not to bother your grafts.

As you parted, he moved to fix his collar. “When I saw the report come in that we were getting a Convict Realization Completionist named Simon, I, I knew it had to be you. You—you don’t remember me, I know you don’t—we were in different squadrons. But every Brother knows Simon.” You winced as you were sure he was going to call you by your moniker, but it didn’t come. “Took me a second to really recognize you when you walked in, what with your hair grown out and the.. uh, injuries, but, man, it was hard to not say something yesterday.”

“Still, it’s good to see a Brother,” you replied, unable to keep the relief and gratefulness out of your voice. “How long have you been here? How’d they get you?”

His gaze went distant for a second. “I was part of Terry’s squadron; our ship’s engine got shot inoperable about five years ago EIC after a skirmish. The Consolidation salvaged us along with the ship; we each went through Realization—rest is history.”

“I remember that ship going missing… I’m so sorry,” you breathed.

“Don’t be,” he said firmly. “After my Realization, I realized that what the Consolidation’s got going here is better than whatEden’s got going on. Call me a traitor, call me a turncoat… But… I think you see it too. I see it in your eyes—everything’s new, unfamiliar, but things are better too.”

You hesitated to nod. “I’d been… Disillusioned by Father’s teachings, for a while, so… Yeah… everything’s new, and so weird, but… I’m lucky to even be here.”

“What the fuck did they have you do for your Realization?” he asked, his voice lowered to just above a whisper. “An ocean made of highly carcinogenic human blood? The fuck did they have against you to make you do that?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I… I blew up Filament Station.”

Caleb sat back in shock. “No. That was you?”

“Our Brothers betrayed me, set me up. Me and several others. Ones I think were also disillusioned; our Brothers wanted us dead.”

He watched you in silence for several long moments. “Terry was on Filament Station when it went.” You must’ve made a face, because his tone backpedaled. “I’ve made peace with it—don’t feel too guilty, especially if you had already been set up. Shit happens.”

“There’s.. a lot that I’ve made peace with, in my life, but. Filament Station is one that I haven’t been able to yet. So fucking many innocent people… And our Brothers just, decided to kill them all…” Your voice came out rough as it choked on the grief.

“I’m sorry, Simon,” he said gently.

You tried to forget about Filament Station by turning the topic back to his question about the expedition. Neither subject was easy to think about, but one still felt like an open wound, and the other was at least a familiar stress. “But, uh… The COI apparently found this moon covered in oceans of blood, and found something interesting in one of them. They welded me into a tin can and told me to go take pictures of points of interests that scans found but couldn’t tell what they were. There was… there was a… monster, made up of researchers that had gone down there previously, that were mutated, and tried to kill me. It almost did—I should be dead right now… I… I don’t know how to explain what happened down there, Caleb. I…” You shook your head and took a deep sigh. “Like I said before, there’s something wrong with me, after being down there. And I don’t think it’s something that can just be healed…”

He watched you intensely, and took several moments to digest what you’d said before speaking—even then, he didn’t seem to know what to say, and his words came out uncertain. “We’ll figure it out. And, keep me updated on things, ‘kay? If they try to sweep you under a rug or something, I’m not gonna let that happen to my Brother. I’ve made some ins, in my time here—they don’t just let anyone be a medic, after all.”

You nodded quietly. “Thank you, Brother.” You both were quiet for a while, before you had the thought; “What of the others in your squadron?”

“Last I heard, Gregor’s doing security on Damsel Station, and Kora is stationed on a shipping freighter as their head mechanic.”

“Damsel Station,” you frowned. “That’s one Eden’s always had an eye on.”

“Yep. What better place to have a Son of Eden stationed, then? We know our own, and how best to defend against our own. Did Joseph ask you about being a consultant?” You nodded. “Vie asked Gregor too, but Gregor’s far more gruff than you are, that’s why he’s a security consultant.”

“Good to hear they’re still doing well,” you replied. “Do you consult for the council?”

“Not really; they’ve tried asking me things about Eden, but every time they have a question, it’s about something that was beyond my rank. You, though—I don’t think Joseph knows that vie’s got the insider knowledge sitting right here.”

You snorted. “I’m not that knowledgeable.”

“C’mon, Simon. Father’s favored? If anyone knows more about Eden than you, it’s only Father.” Your brows furrowed. Before you could counter argue that, the tablet beside you made a sound. Caleb reached to pick it up, tapped on the screen to activate it, read some info from it, and then tucked it under his arm. “If you ever need an ear, about anything, don’t hesitate to tell me. Dr. Beckett has lots of experience with Edenites, and he’s great for getting your brain out of Eden’s trenches, but he doesn’t get it in the same way that we get it. I know Eden always taught us that we’re the masters of our own emotions, but, I’ve learned here that it feels a lot better when you’re able to shoulder a mental load with someone else. Trust me.”

You watched him, skeptical, but eventually nodded. You trusted your Brothers, and especially one who’d been here for five years? It was hard to not trust him.

He moved to stand, rolling the chair away and back against the far wall so it was out of the way. “How’s your head? Think you can withstand me turning the lights on?”

You looked between him and the light pouring in from the hallway, trying to gauge what your pain level was at. “Sure, give it a try.”

He stepped over to the wall where the light controls were, and pulled the lights up slowly. You did wince when they were at full brightness, but it seemed the meds were kicking in. You grumbled, but waved your hand to him to brush him off any concern. He watched you as you watched him through squinted eyes. “Well, hopefully those meds kick in completely soon. I’ll still give Dr. Beckett some warning to your headache when he comes through. Also, want me to order you something to eat? It’ll probably arrive while the doc is here, but you gotta be starving. That or you can wait til after and head down to the Commons on your own.”

The Commons; Morrison said hy’d have your boots done today. “I, have to go down there anyway today, so I can wait.” Then a thought occurred to you. “Wait, can I just, leave the medical center?”

Caleb chuckled. “‘Course you can. Unless you’re gonna letyourself pass out from pain, Lea seems to think you’re perfectly capable of wandering around the station by yourself. Margie wants to keep you overnight for observation and ease of medication access, so there’s no need to restrict your movements during the day. Just, if no one’s at the front desk, message one of us with your PII so we know you’re not here. And, really, feel free to message me if you need anything, ‘kay? I know it’s weird, but. You’re not on Eden anymore.”

You nodded. He turned to leave, but then you thought of something. “Actually, while I have you here…” He stopped and looked to you. “Can you… wait, let me get dressed, so you can help with my boots…?” It was embarrassing to ask, but it wasn’t going to get done any other way.

His eyes lit up in understanding. “Yeah, absolutely.”

You reached for your satchel and retrieved the second set of clothing from within, and began the slightly painstaking process of righting the jumpsuit and slipping it on correctly, often fighting the instinct to use your left hand, and the frustration that came with realizing it was missing and thus couldn’t help. You’d absolutely taken for granted having two hands, when you did… Caleb watched from the doorway, and you could see he would tense up to stop himself every so often when you struggled; you were incredibly grateful for his self control—it helped you feel normal to do it by yourself, even if you struggled. With garments on, you slipped your boots on, and were at least able to tighten them yourself; then, you looked up to Caleb.

He dutifully wandered over and sat on his heels in front of you, neatly tying the laces after making sure they hadn't loosened after you handed them off. Once done, he stood, and offered you his fist.

You tapped it with yours reflexively, but followed it this time with a chuckle. “How do you still remember that old gesture?” you had to ask.

“Got you to remember it too, didn’t I? Once a Son, always a Brother,” he replied, giving you a casual wave as he headed out of the room. His boot steps didn’t go very far before they came back, though, and he was peeking his head into the room again. “Let me know when you’re going to head to the Commons, actually. I’ll take my first meal break to join you—I can show you how to order food, and all that, then. I’ll bring down a new nerve block then too, since that’s around about when you’ll need it next.”

“Will do; thank you, Brother,” you gave him a grateful smile.

This time, when he disappeared from the doorway, he actually headed down the hall.

Alone with your thoughts, they quickly became overwhelming—you were free, though you knew you had an obligation soon, and you had to swallow the eagerness to just get up and leave. Eager to see Morrison, eager to get something to eat—hell, even learn what sort of different things the COI had than Eden. Unease crept in through the eagerness as you had to remind yourself that the obligation was seeing Dr. Beckett; focus on all the new was beginning to overcome the memories of old, especially with the help of the anti-psychotics, and it worried you what would be dragged up by speaking with him. That fear did tamp down the urge to get up and leave, and put things back into perspective for you.

You reached for your little tablet, and it lit up in greeting when you did. The clock on it’s face said 0926. You sighed at the wait ahead of you, alone with your thoughts.

You tapped around on the little tablet, trying to occupy your mind with something other than the wait. Seeing the messaging program reminded you, Joseph asked you to keep vir updated. Though you were sure that Margie had to have already, you felt a sense of duty to make certain that vie knew about the decisions made yesterday. You tapped into the program, and just as Joseph had said, vir contact information was already loaded into the program. The message history was empty, but the entry field was receptive.

When you tapped into the entry field, a digital keyboard popped up; reflexively, you moved to balance the little tablet between both hands and—fuck. You couldn’t supress a growl at the realization, then sighed in frustration—the little tablet’s size was perfect to hold in one hand, but not to type with one hand, and though you tried multiple configurations of it sitting in your hand so you had freedom of movement for your thumb to tap the letters, you just weren't able to balance it and type. You had to set it down on your leg to type, and while that worked, it wasn't going to be a long-term solution. This was going to be agonizingly slow.Just another thing to try and figure out…

“Hello,” you started in the entry field. “Checking in to see if Margie followed up with you on some of the decisions we made yesterday,” you sent.

You watched the chat history for a few minutes, and just as you were sure that vie wasn’t going to respond, the little machine made a sound. “Yes, zhe said that zhe was keeping you for a couple days for ease of medication dispensing, but that you were otherwise stunningly fit for the state of your scan!”

You had to smile a bit at that. “Did zhe mention we decided to take the rest of that arm off tomorrow?”

“Zhe had not! Why, pray tell?”

“The end of it is raw nerve tissue, down into the bone. I need nerve block to stop the pain from it. Since it’s not doing me any good, I told zer to take the whole thing.”

“I feel like this is something zhe should have brought to my attention, thank you for telling me! I see now why zhe wanted to keep you. Zhe made it sound as though you’re fit to be out and about by yourself though; do you think you’re fit to attend your first integration class? I think I could fit that in today.”

Vie were really pushing that, weren’t vie? “Yes.”

“Very good! I’ll get that set up for you and send your PII the details. We’ll plan for the subsequent classes to be after your surgery then, I’ll bend the week’s time frame requirement for those due to your circumstances. Did you have any other questions or updates for me?”

You thought about vir question for a few moments. “Thank you, magister. I do, sort of. This thing is Really hard to use one-handed… Do you know of any modifications that can be done to it to help?”

It took a few minutes for vir response to come back. “I’m so sorry, Simon, I don’t. Ask Morrison though, if anyone is creative enough to come up with something, it’ll be hymn, or hy’ll know someone who can! If you find someone else who is able to provide you a solution, tell them the charge is on me. Show them this message as binding contract if they give you any trouble about it.”

Vir words made you wonder what the “charge” even was. “Will do, thank you, magister.”

You tapped out of the messaging program and glanced at the clock on the screen—0939.

You sighed and bit the inside of your lip, looking at the door to your room. While there was the knowledge of freedom, and the eagerness behind it, there was also the apprehension of habit. Between the over 1000 sleep cycles in the COI’s prison, then being physically restrained by healing wounds and needing assistance since the expedition, no part of being with the COI had yet allowed your brain to feel like you were an independent person. It was very difficult for one person, even a Brother, telling you that you were free to move about, to let your brain feel like it had permission. Hell, even remembering Joseph telling you that you were free didn’t help much.

So you sat for multiple minutes, paralyzed by the dehumanized part of you. The rational part of your brain fought with it, though—you knew where the bathroom was, and Caleb had said you’re free to wander around. Would a Brother really lie to you to get you into trouble? And really, who was the COI to tell you that you couldn’t use the bathroom.

Defiant of your own brain, you shoved the little tablet into your pocket and gingerly stood, then headed down to the bathroom you’d been in the night before.

Doctor Beckett was sitting in your room when you returned. “Oh, doctor—I’m sorry,” you stammered when you registered what was going on.

He had been looking to the door watching for you from his perch on the rolling chair, and gave a gentle smile at your apology. “You’re quite alright, I’m early.”

You sheepishly reached into your pocket to check the time on your little tablet as you moved to sit back on your bed—0954. You hadn't thought you’d been away that long…

“Caleb mentioned you had a new headache; how is that doing with pain meds?” he asked as you sat down.

You nodded; “It’s better than when I woke up. It still hurts, but, not to the extent of being light sensitive anymore, at least.”

“Good, good. He noted that he theorized it’s due to the concussions, so do let me know if it begins to get worse; I don’t want to exacerbate it, and we can always pick up a discussion another day,” he said with a gentle tone.

You nodded quietly, watching him with apprehension at your tardiness and the appearance that gave you.

He caught onto that. “What’s on your mind, Simon?”

You thought about your words carefully—even remembering Caleb’s words that Dr. Beckett was experienced with Edenites, it was hard to put your train of thought into words for someone else to understand. “I’m. Not used to being given freedom of movement, anymore.. And to, not be present when someone I have an obligation to arrives is.. against how I was raised.”

That seemed to put quite a bit of it into perspective for him, though, and though he moved to tap on the tablet in his lap, he nodded confirmingly. “I’m sure you had good reason to be out of the room,” he said, his tone observant with not even a hint of accusation. “Especially in that I was the offender, in being early, do try and take this as an exercise in quashing that instinct.”

You chewed on that for several moments before nodding.

“You said, ‘anymore’, as a qualifier to not being given freedom of movement. I can surmise you mean that to be having been imprisoned, and while I absolutely do not want to ignore the impact that has had on your mental health, I want to gain a baseline understanding of, how much freedom of movement did you have, on Eden?” he asked, typing for the majority of his question, but looking up to you by the time his question ended.

You actually had to think about that. At first, it seemed like an easy answer, but the more you thought about it, the more you realized how restricted your movements had been. Then, you realized, he was really asking, who were you, to Eden? You set your jaw, your brow furrowing as you thought. “I, was expected to be at the beck and call of Father at a moment’s notice. From… what I know about other folks who were not Sons, we didn’t have daily itineraries down to the hour, but instead expectations of when we would eat, when we would sleep, when we would perform duties—if Father didn’t specifically call upon us.”

“How often was that?” the doctor asked, continuing to take notes.

You could only slowly shake your head, your memories taking your brain far away from the present as you tried to think of any kind of pattern. “For us in general, it could be a few times a week. For me… If I wasn't tasked to supervise something specific that took priority, I was expected to be within earshot of him.”

He typed. “And, if you had to leave his immediate vicinity, without being given another task, were you allowed to?”

“With his acknowledgment.”

As the doctor typed, you realized how strict that was. You’d thought that you had it pretty easy all your life, but thinking on it now, realizing how nice it’d been on the vehicle transport in their very private med bay, how little observation and expectation had been placed upon you, it was a little dizzying. “Oh,” you hardly realized you even breathed the word.

Dr. Beckett looked up to you from his tablet. “Were you visually supervised throughout the day?”

You nodded. “Yeah, uh. The private sectors didn’t have security cameras, but the rest of the station did.”

He tapped on his tablet. “You’re an astute fellow—extremely so—so I’m sure that you’ve put together some of the pieces of why I’m asking you this. And I want to allay your fears a bit; the Consolidation does not utilize security cameras, for the most part. Your PII can be used to track and locate you, but your actions are not recorded, and Consolidation security doesn’t make it a habit of keeping record of it’s members’ movements—unless there is an active investigation into the individual. That’s quite rare though. You’ve had an extremely surveiled life, paired with high expectations of you—I can absolutely see why you’re struggling with that instinct of being present and presentable at all moments.”

At the mention of your little tablet, you slipped your hand into your pocket to touch it, then fiddled absentmindedly with it in thought at the doctor’s words. That was why the vehicle transport ship felt so different, you were truly by yourself on that ship. Not alone, but, had privacy. That was a very new phenomena to feel.

“It will take some getting used to, but, the other Edenites I’ve worked with have expressed similar stresses to yours, and I’ve seen great improvement in their mental health, simply from being here and outside that stressful hierarchy,” he gave you a gentle smile.

“How does the COI not have security cameras?” you asked smally, unable to get past that thought process.

“Oh, the stations and transports have cameras, but shortly after the Quiet Rapture, it was deemed a waste of resources to be constantly recording. They’re deactivated until issues arise.”

Your face went distant as you thought about that. That was how so many raids that had been deemed “difficult” had gone so smoothly. “Sorry, that… makes a lot of sense for several memories.”

He gave you a knowing smile, and you returned a sheepish look. “It’s in the past, now,” he reassured.

“That’s… I don’t understand that,” you frowned. “The, ‘it’s in the past’, bit. How does any of what we’ve done get swept under the rug by doing a favor for the COI?”

“Survival is bigger than any one of us. I’m sure you’ve heard that motto many times by now, but it’s one we live by because it’s true. We can't change what’s in the past, especially not losing members to skirmishes with Eden, but by giving folks such as yourself a chance to disengage from the culture you lived in, and find a better purpose with the Consolidation, we only have that much to gain. Giving you folks the ability to be forgiven for what sounds like tasks you were entirely forced into doing, means that we gain new, powerful allies. That is a general belief held throughout the Consolidation; Realized Edenites, in general, while rough around the edges, are hard working and tough folks, we’ve found, and grateful for the opportunities we give you—especially without judgment for your pasts,” he explained with a poignant but gentle tone.

You bit the inside of your cheek, hard, but nodded as you digested his words. Eventually, you asked; “How does the death of 62 members of the COI get swept under the rug by me being put into a tin can and tortured, almost to death, then left to die?”

The way you phrased it seemed to take the doctor off guard, and he had to steady himself.

“How do you justify then fixing me up just to have one one-armed mass-murderer as a replacement. For sixty-two people? Because I was retrieved on accident?”

He studied you quietly, seeming to be very aware of how true your words were, and trying to find words to even begin to reply. “Filament Station is in the past.” He said steadily and pointedly, emphasizing his words carefully. “And, you alone can’t replace 62 talented hands, we don’t expect that—but, the actions you took during your Realization show that you are an incredibly dependable person. You were put in a horrifying position, and still made the difficult and active choice to better those who put you there, whether you could be saved or not. That is an extremely selfless act that we cannot overlook, nor understate. And, that choice is showing promise in making up the difference between one alive person, and 62 lost ones, as well. I’ve not been apprised of the contents of the findings, but, the council is abuzz right now.” His tone turned gentle. “What happened to you is unforgivable, and there’s no real repayment for it—we’ll be in your debt for the rest of your life, I can promise that.”

Tears came to your eyes and you had to look away from him.

“I know it’s not much, not in comparison to everything that happened, but I’m sorry Simon. We failed you. Responsible for Filament Station or not, you didn’t deserve what you went through,” he said sincerely.

You cried quietly for several long minutes. After a few minutes, you could hear the doctor tapping on his tablet, likely unsure what more he could say.

Eventually, he did speak up. “Do you think you’d be willing to see me again tomorrow? Part of that debt we owe you is me helping you, and regardless of having a debt or not, I want to help you. You deserve it.”

You were quiet for several more minutes, wiping your eyes and trying to control the tear flow, before you nodded. As painful as it was, it felt good to get the frustration out, and he gave you several important revelations to think about. And it felt good to finally be apologized to, acknowledged that what happened was fucked up. “Thank you, doctor… That’s all I’ve really wanted,” you said, voice choked by tears.

“You deserve so much more than just an apology, Simon. I hope we’re able to give you a life you enjoy,” he said, moving to stand. You watched him, teary-eyed, as he stood before you. “Would you like a hug, son?”

You thought back to the one Caleb gave you earlier—it’d been all too short, and riddled with the pain you were in. You nodded quietly—it’d been far too long since you’d had one before that.

Dr. Beckett moved to wrap his free arm around the back of your neck, being careful with where your grafts were, and you wrapped your arm around his back. He was a delicate person, and even in your weakened state from healing, it felt like you could crush him if you truly tried. It was so different than hugging one of your Brothers, but itstill was exactly what you needed.

When he parted from you, you had to ask; “Do you call me ‘son’ on purpose…?”

He gave a gentle, knowing smile. “Yes. It was on accident, when I first started seeing your Brothers, but over time, it seemed to really help them. It’s been something I’ve continued doing on purpose, since.” You nodded, that made sense. “Same time tomorrow, or would you like more time to wake up, perhaps get something to eat before I see you?”

Your head hurt more from crying, and that made it harder to think. “Um. Actually, I need to have surgery tomorrow. I, don’t know how long that, takes.”

He nodded. “Let’s schedule for overmorrow then. Whenever you have a chance tomorrow, send me a message, and we can work it out. Good luck with the surgery.”

You nodded and gave him a thanks, and he gave you a parting wave as he headed out, which you returned; once again, you were left with your thoughts.

The doctor’s apology hit harder than you’d expected it to. Thinking back, Joseph had apologized on behalf of the whole of the COI, but for some reason, it hadn’t registered to the same degree. It took every ounce of effort in your body not to start crying again, and you had to take several deep breaths to get yourself stable again.

You closed your eyes and let yourself focus on breathing. The headache seemed to be subsiding as the meds worked on it, and taking inventory of yourself reflexively reminded you that Caleb had offered to bring you new nerve block after your meeting. Sighing, you reached to pull the little tablet out of your pocket. At least that would give you something else to focus on.

Tapping on the messaging program, you found his name in the contact list and tapped on it. The message history was empty too—did everyone you have contact with get added to that list? Or was it just folks that Joseph knew you were going to be working with that got added? Same as messaging earlier, you placed the little machine on your leg to type; “I’m done with my meeting.”

It took a minute for a message to come through, “Gotcha. Gimme 10 minutes.”

You slipped the little tablet back into your pocket and settled in to sit alone with your thoughts yet again. What was the odds that one of the medical team was a Brother, you had to wonder. Surely you hadn’t been brought here on purpose for that reason? In fact, it made you wonder just how many other Edenites were part of the COI now. Trying very hard not to make your head hurt, you tried to think of how many of Eden’s ships had gone missing over the years. It had been a small but not insignificant number—considering that any number of missing ships, resources, and people was significant.

“Hey.”

Caleb’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts—at some point, you’d closed your eyes to think easier without the visual input, and you opened them to look to him. He stood in the doorway to your room, but moved into the room once you saw him.

“I didn’t take that much time that you needed a nap between messaging and me showing up, did I?” he asked jokingly.

You gave him a small, wry smile. “Nah, my head just hurts still. ‘n’, I was thinking.”

“You, thinking? That’s dangerous,” he joked.

You snorted. “How many Edenites are part of the COI now?” you asked him.

He seemed taken off guard by the question. “I dunno. I haven’t thought to count, or ask.”

“Just, seems like really long odds that a Brother would be my medic.”

He made an expression that said he hadn’t thought of that before. “I’m glad it worked out like that though; I’m definitely glad to see you, and it was hard being new here with no one to talk to about it who understood, so I’m glad I can be here to help you.”

You gave him another small smile. He had a tablet under his arm, and a syringe in that hand; you nodded to it, and that seemed to remind him of why he was there.

“Oh, right. Here, let’s do that nerve block before the current one wears off,” he said, moving to take the tablet from under his arm, and set it on the bed beside you.

As he did so and moved to uncap the syringe, you pulled the zipper down on your jumpsuit so he could have access to the nerve, and moved to restrain your hair so it was out of the way. He moved the shoulder of your jumpsuit aside and gave you the stick; when he removed the syringe and moved away, you replaced the fabric and zipped your jumpsuit back up.

“Got the results back for your liver test,” he said as he recapped the syringe. “Looks like it’s functioning at only a marginally diminished rate—enough that it doesn’t seem like it would be a concern even in the long term. I’m wondering if that anomalous tissue patched up any damage that it did itself.”

“That sounds good?”

“We’ll have to do some more tests in the future just to monitor, but the initial test is promising.”

You watched him quietly, a thought coming to your head. “What did you have to do for your Realization?”

He blinked, obviously not having been expecting that question. He replied after he registered what you’d asked him; “Oh. They caught wind that I had medical training, so they tossed me in medic rotation with a shadow to see what I knew. It was as much my questionnaire as it was my Realization,” he chuckled. “I heard they made Gregor scrub Damsel Station top to bottom for his Realization, and I know Kora was tasked to rebuild several booster engines from scratch, so I think I got the easy way out.”

“Hey, are you okay?” You didn’t even realize that you’d gotten lost in thought. You looked to him, and he looked concerned. “You’ll have to tell me what happened, someday,” he said gently, probably guessing that you were thinking about your own Realization, based on you asking about his.

You shook your head slowly. “I don’t… I don’t even know what happened, Caleb.”

He reached out an open palm to you after a few quiet moments. “Well, once you know, you can tell me. For now, why don’t we go get lunch, huh?”

That definitely sounded much better than wallowing in the memories, and as much as your broken brain wanted you to, you defiantly pushed past the instinct and took Caleb’s hand. He stood his ground as you used his assistance to pull yourself to your feet, then also as you gave him the Brothers’ customary shoulder bump with hands still clasped. He grinned as you parted. “Haven’t lost that one either,” he said as he moved to grab the tablet he placed on the bed.

“I’m surprised you still remember,” you snarked.

“Once a Son, always a Brother,” he repeated with mirth, moving to head out of the room.

You dutifully followed after him, not sure where the front entrance was from your room.

“I saw in your file you’ve been having ambulation issues, not that I’m surprised with how long you’ve been down ‘n out with all your injuries, so let me know if you need me to slow down, or to take a break, ‘kay?” he offered, looking over his shoulder to you as he headed through the winding hallways.

“Will do,” you replied, able to keep up with his stride without too much trouble.

He stopped at the front desk where Lea was sitting, and placed his tablet on the desk near her, along with the empty syringe. “We’re heading out to lunch,” he said as she turned to look to you both.

She gave you both a smile, then it fell when she thought of something, and pointed to you; “Nerve block?”

“Just refreshed,” you gave her a smile.

She nodded and returned it. She looked as though she was going to say something, but before she could, Caleb stopped cold in the walkway, causing you to nearly run in to him. Before you could say anything about it, he looked to you, “Oh, hey you should track that.”

You blinked at him in confusion.

“Oh, did you not record your nerve block administration?” came Lea’s voice from behind you.

“Oh,” you replied with new understanding, and moved to grab your little tablet from your pocket. “Right, that.. needs to be done,” you muttered without much thought as you focused on tapping over to the med tracking program to put in the med and time.

“Hey, you seem like your head’s not in a great way, so it’s understandable,” Caleb said gently.

You nodded quietly as you narrowed your focus on your task, trying hard not to let your thoughts wander back to your meeting with the doctor. Finishing your task, you nodded your head toward the door. Caleb gave you a small smile and a nod, then moved to keep going.

“Enjoy lunch!” Lea called after you. You both gave her a casual parting wave.

Heading out of the medical center, you moved to step in stride with Caleb; his stride was testing your endurance, but you felt it necessary to push yourself—you’d only get stronger in doing so.

“You said you had to go down to the commons for something, what was it?” he asked curiously.

“Morrison is supposed to have a pair of boots for me that I’ll be able to put on by myself,” you replied, your ribs pinching at the rate of breath needed to keep the pace—you ignored it.

“Oh, that’s excellent,” he replied with a light tone. “Hy’s a good fellow, even if hy’s got eccentric taste.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Hys favorite way to be paid for hys services is with a doughnut from the Bakery stall.” He caught your confused look. “You gotta be up and waiting in line at like, 0600 to even get one, and if you give it to someone else, you gotta count it against yourmacros for the day.”

“What?”

“Yeah!” he chuckled. “That’s how payment is around here. Either you trade doing menial labor for something, or caloric intake. Traders say they’ll take salvage they’re interested in, but so few folk get the opportunity to get salvage that it’s nigh impossible to take them up on that offer. The only one who could ever actually trade for things is Alyx, the one who runs the Home Hydroponics stall.”

Your head started to swim at all the information. “Okay wait, slow down.” Caleb did start to slow down his walking pace, until you outpaced him and he realized that wasn’t what you meant. “First and foremost, what the fuck is a doughnut.”

He laughed. “They’re legendary, everyone loves them, but they’re incredibly limited in how many the Bakery can make a day. It’s a recipe from the before times—it’s potatoes and cereal flour made into a rounded shape, then put in a hotbox ‘till they get super soft and puffy. I’ve only gotten to have one, and it’s super worth it, but also not at the same time.”

That did sound really interesting.“And, home hydroponics??”

“Oh, yeah! Alyx is one of the Gardeners for the station, and she offers folks the materials to be able to have small, personalhydroponics systems in their apartments. She’s not available all the time, because she’s a Gardener, but when her stall is open, it’s super busy. She rescues plants that aren’t strong enough to survive production for food for the station, and even has seeds of non-edible plants that are good for oxygen production. She happily teaches folks how to harvest seeds from their home plants to trade her. Every plant that lives benefits the station, she says, but doesn’t have enough materials to do any sort of major renovation of the station itself to plant more plants outside the agricultural ring, so she tries to get the inhabitants to grow some themselves. I’ve even heard her say she’s got schematics for building water recyclers with plants that one can put in their shower to get more shower water. It’s expensive as all fuck though.”

As you both arrived at the elevator, you watched him, stunned at what you were hearing. “Do you have plants in your apartment?”

“I do,” he smiled as he pushed the call button. “Because I’m a permanent resident of the station, I figured I probably should, since I don’t have to worry about getting someone to take care of them if I have to be deployed off-station. I have a couple non-edible plants that definitely freshen the air in the place, and a little one hat grows a bunch of little red edible fruits every few days. I trade Alyx the seeds from fruits that don’t get big enough to eat for fertilizer.”

“What the fuck, why didn’t Eden do something like that?” you asked rhetorically.

“I dunno, but, Bro, do I think they’d benefit from it,” he replied as the elevator arrived and the door slid open. He continued as he stepped inside and reached for the destination panel as you stepped in after, “But, I know that Alyx is constantly on thin ice with the council because of her stall. They think that she’s too generous with what she gives away, but she’s said that they’re being stingy, and that because she’s a Gardener, she knows the stock of the station, and knows the numbers of seeds she receives from folks who have home plants. We’re certainly not lacking for space or seeds, but I can see they might be concerned about the amount of water being used.”

You sat with that as the elevator moved. “So, I heard the fourth ring is referred to as the agricultural ring. The whole fourth ring is agricultural? I thought that Eden had the best hydroponics of all the remaining stations.”

“Hydroponics, sure, but Derin station is the agricultural station. Yeah, Ring 4 is wholly dedicated to it, and has tons of soil. Before the Quiet Rapture, the station was geared up to be a huge trade and supply stop between Mars and Earth, and according to the folks who’ve lived here since the before times, there were tons of shipments of plants, soil, water, everything the station would need to be self-sustaining for thousands of people. Apparently there was a whole seed vault stored here; rumor has it, there’s seeds still in it, that the council has deemed unusable because they’re not ‘right’ to use in our situation. I’m partial to believing it, because twice now since I’ve been here, we’ve had a completely new food pop up in the stalls. Sure, that might have come from a different station to supplement our crop rotation, but.” He shrugged as the elevator stopped and the door slid open.

“What the fuck,” you asked just above a mutter. “Was… was the Last Tree really the last tree?”

He shot you a glance as you both stepped out of the elevator. “I dunno, Simon. I’ve asked myself that a lot. Ring 4 isn’t open to non-Gardeners to visit, and if anywhere but Eden would have a tree, it’d be here.”

You stopped walking suddenly, halted by your thoughts, and he took a few steps before he noticed and stopped too. “Did they take your seed pendant?”

He blinked in confusion for a few moments until recollection lit up his eyes. “...Y’know, what, yeah, I remember that.”

Your expression grew dark. “I was told that ‘the council wants to start a garden of their own one day’, and that mine had been confiscated for that reason.”

Caleb blinked, his brow furrowing as he thought about that. “Well, maybe it’s true… And if there is a seed vault, I can see our seeds being added to it… But, they were already sprouted—they were already dead in that glass, and anyone who’s spent any time around seeds would see that. Sounds like whoever told you that was trying to provoke you.” He watched your expression, his becoming hard to read. “Hey, are you okay?”

You had to look away from him. “Did you hear the Last Tree died?”

“What?” he asked smally after attempting to digest that for a moment.

You nodded. “It was a husk, even before I got captured, and that was almost 3 years ago, EIC.”

“What happened?” he stepped toward you almost menacingly.

You shook your head. “I have no idea.” You looked to him—he looked distraught. If there was any one thing the two of you seemed to have ties to back on Eden, it was the Tree. “Salvations were still being performed, but at a slower rate, so I don’t know if the tree wasn’t getting the right amount of bodies, or if almost 15 years of nothing but human bodies poisoned it.”

Caleb shook his head like he was clearing a bad memory. “It.. probably was that last part. ‘We will become the soil’ is great in theory, but.. if it got nothing else, then it was slowly being starved…”

You were quiet for a few long moments. “That’s pretty ironic, considering that’s how Father ran the place.” After a few more moments, you spoke up, quietly; “Thank you, for… not calling me by my moniker.”

He straightened his posture. “You never seemed to like it, and I didn’t even spend that much time around you. Plus, it just seems to have a bad taste.”

“It fits my Realization task, though,” you said darkly.

He thought about that for a second and then snorted. “Sure does.” Eventually, he nodded back toward the way that you’d been traveling, then turned to keep walking that way—he probably didn’t have muchin the way of a response to that, and you didn’t blame him. You dutifully followed after him.

As you stepped back into the large space that made the Commons, it was easy to let the newness of the situation take priority over the recollection of the past. It was no less busy than it had been yesterday, despite the difference in hour you were present. Caleb’s stride slowed as he stepped closer to the stalls, his expression and head movements contemplative as it seemed as though he was studying the area. Though you kept an eye on him for any cues, you also got a better chance to study the area for yourself.

You’d been moving with purpose the day before, keeping your consciousness on your breathing and task, and that hadn't let you really take in the space. There was about two dozen alcoves along the outer perimeter of the Commons area, but less than a dozen were occupied; the others were either dark and empty, or completely sealed off with gates. That seemed to lend credence to the thought that this station was made to be a waypoint—it made you wonder what other types of stalls had been open in it’s heyday. There were six stalls that seemed dedicated to food, which seemed like a lot. The Bakery that Caleb had mentioned was the first in the row, and there was a pleasant heat that emanated from the stall as you wandered by it; the food smelled savory and enticing, and the display board of what the stall offered was perplexing—you’d never seen anything quite like some of the images depicted on it. Keeping up with Caleb didn’t allow you to study it too closely, though, and the next stall’s board displayed a variety of salads, with ingredients you didn’t recognize—other than leafy greens of some kind. He stopped in front of the next stall, and the warmth and smell wafting from the stall was delightful; the display board declared the stall as Forever Soups, and was decorated with images of soups and stews.

He gave you a slightly wry smile. “Dunno what they were feeding you on the transports, but I figured, something familiar might help ease you into life here.”

You replied with a more sincere smile. When was the last time you had soup? Both the prison and the tow ships’ rations had been a cereal mash and vitamins. The vehicle transport ship had beans and an oblong cereal you didn’t recognize, which based on what Margie had brought for you the night before, seemed to be the default meal.

There was a patron already waiting at the counter, and the proprietor was further back in the alcove at one of the several large pots that each sat over a contained fire—likely why the area was so warm. Caleb stepped over to the display board, and looked to you. “You should get your PII out, this is where you’re gonna need it—at least for a while until you have these figures memorized.”

You lifted an eyebrow at him, but reached into your pocket to pull out the little tablet. The patron at the counter gave a curious look over at your goings on.

Caleb gestured to the writing on the display board, which was easier to see once you stepped closer—it was small, hand-written in charcoal, so you hadn't realized previously that it was a list of macronutrients pertaining to the dish depicted. “This is what you input into your macro tracker when you get your food. Since every dish has different macros, you’ll need to choose carefully what you want versus what your body needs versus how many macros you’ve already intaken in a day.”

Choose… Want… “ Since the Quiet Rapture, none of us get a choice.” You watched him quietly, trying to even comprehend the concept of choosing something, anything, let alone food. Throughout your life, you were handed things, all decisions made for you. It was a little overwhelming to think of consciously picking something.

He continued, despite whether he caught your internal conflict or not, and gestured to one of the images on the board—these also looked hand-drawn. “If you hold your PII up against the picture, it’ll automatically import the macros, which can be super useful in the beginning, but eventually as you start to memorize them, it’s faster and easier for you to keep track in your brain what you need if you input them manually. The soup stall is a bit weird too, because each day the soups can be completely different; they add a little bit of everything to each pot that’s leftover from other stalls at the end of the day, so the macros can vary wildly—which is another reason why it’s easier to do your macros manually, if you’re really into getting soup every day.”

“Okay… I haven’t messed with that program yet,” you muttered, looking lost between the board and your little tablet. You knew where the program was though, and tapped over to it quickly, but the layout was wasn't exactly self explanatory.

Caleb stepped over beside you to look over your shoulder, then reached to tap on a symbol that looked like a person on your tablet’s screen. The screen produced a list of numbers accompanied by the names of nutrients. “This is your target goal, based on blood tests that’ve been run to find your metabolism and body composition needs. For you, specifically, this is going to change a lot over the next few months, what with you healing and your body needing different macros at different stages of healing, so don’t get too familiar with these numbers, and check this screen often. We’ll be running these numbers for you like, once a week to make sure they’re accurate.” He tapped on an icon that looked like a list, which took you back to the screen the program first presented you with. “When you tap on this plus sign, it’ll take you to the input screen. There, you can either scan the board, or input the macros manually.”

You nodded, seemed simple enough. You looked back to the display board, and the unfamiliarity of deciding settled into your chest again. There were so many words, ingredients you assumed, you didn’t recognize. It was going to be hard to choose anything by itself, let alone what you wanted—you might as well pick something for the macros at that point. “What.. would you suggest?” He was the one who had been here a while, and had suggested soup, after all.

“You’ll be the most familiar with what’s in the 3-bean mushroom. But if you’re feeling adventurous, the potato and leek is really good.”

Leek—you didn’t recognize that word. “What’s a leek?”

“Do you remember scallions? Those, really thin, green circles that some of the Kitchen folk were absolute shit at cutting so sometimes you’d get a whole mouthful of one at random?” You snorted and nodded vigorously—shit, that was something you hadn’t thought of in years. “They taste kinda like that. Way crunchier though, depending how long the veg has been in the broth cooking.”

“Huh,” you replied. “Sure, why not?”

He nodded and gestured to the board, “You’ll want to scan that then,” he said as he stepped up to the counter—the previous patron had left, and the proprietor was watching your goings on curiously in their stead. “How’s it going, Brady,” Caleb greeted as you searched the board for the item he described. “A potato leek, and a sweet potato curry please,” you heard him request as you found what you were looking for.

“It’s been a while since we had new folk,” you heard the new voice comment curiously as you held your little tablet up to the board, trying to figure out where it needed to be to—ah, there it went. It populated information on the screen that you glanced over as you stepped beside Caleb.

“It has. Remember to be patient with him,” Caleb called into the back of the alcove with mirth. “You remember when I was new, I know you do.” That earned a laugh from the proprietor, who was scooping soup from the pots into heartily large bowls that surprised you at the sheer size.

“What’s a curry?” you asked quietly, letting your little tablet slide back into your pocket.

“Fucking delicious is what it is. It hurts a bit to eat though, it makes your mouth burn,” he replied.

You looked at him with confusion, your brows furrowing.

“It’s so worth it, you’ll have to try it one day,” Caleb chuckled at your reaction. “It’s not as filling as some of the other offerings, because the ingredients are harder to grow, but it’s got a lot of macronutrients from the herbs it’s made with. It’s Brady’s specialty—she comes from a long line of folks who made it in the before times.”

“Chickpea, peppers, rice, and sweet potato,” Brady rattled off with a prideful tone as he came back to the counter. You didn’t recognize a word she just said, except for “and” and “potato”, and she chuckled, probably at the look on your face. As he set the bowls down on the counter, his eyes wandered and caught your missing arm. “Ah,” her eyebrows raised in recognition and he held up a finger in a “wait’ motion, then wandered over to a shelf deeper into the alcove. “Morrison gave us heads up that we had a new resident who had an upper limb deficiency. You must be Simon,” she said as he retrieved something from the shelf, and wandered back to the counter.

You couldn’t help but smile awkwardly. “I, guess my reputation precedes me?”

“Morrison’s a gossiper,” she replied placatingly. “The forewarning was helpful though, as I got a chance to think about how to help you overnight, just incase you came by—good thing I did,” he said with a light tone. She placed what he retrieved on the counter—it was, a towel? He lifted one of the bowls of soup and placed it on top of the towel. “The bowls are hot. Usually, folks can balance bowls by the top rim where it’s cooler to carry them to a seat, but that needs two hands. The towel provides a barrier between the heat and your skin—I use them all the time that way back here. I of course will need the towel back when you’re done, but you’re welcome to borrow one any time you stop by—just remind me, as when it gets busy I might forget.”

You gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Not a problem, happy to help,” he smiled.

Caleb moved to grab a pair of spoons from a display of them on the counter, and dropped one in each bowl, then reached to carefully take the one without the towel. “That’s all we need to do, Bro, really simple,” he said to you, then gave Brady a nod. “Thanks again, Brady.”

“Of course, enjoy!” she replied before moving off into the alcove.

You looked at the bowl with the towel, and did some calculations in your head—it’d been a while since you tried to pick up a bowl with one hand, but surely you still had it in your muscle memory somewhere.. Caleb stood by as you reached for it, carefully tipping it away from your hand so you could get your fingers under the bottom of the bowl beneath the towel, and hooked your thumb on the rim—which was difficult, given the sheer size of the bowl itself, a far more generous portion of food than you’d ever seen in your life. You did succeed in picking it up, and moved to hold it against your chest for extra support; it was hot, but the warmth was cozy, and itsmelled wonderful.

Caleb lifted his bowl as Brady had described others doing so, and moved to head toward the seating section of the area. You followed him carefully, keeping conscious of the sloshing of the soup so close to your body. He picked a table nearby, and set his bowl down, shaking his hands from the heat of it.

“That’s, really all that needs to be done to get food?” you asked as you set your bowl down on the table across from him, fighting a bit with the loose towel beneath it—and eventually setting the bowl down bare on the table and pulling the cloth carefully from underneath it so it wasn't tipped awkwardly.

“Yep, pick something that you want and-or meets your macro needs, ask the stall owner for the dish, and when they hand it to you, thank ‘em and head out,” he said as he took a seat, immediately reaching for his little tablet. “Oh, and making sure you put the macros in your tracker of course.” You sat as he started to tap around on it, and as he typed, he half-mindedly said, “Careful, I’d let the soup rest for a few minutes before you try eating, it’s hotter than the bowl—you do not want to scorch your mouth.”

You stared at the bowl in front of you, happy enough to soak in the heat and the smell. “That is… so different from Eden. All of this is…”

He snorted at the memory, still typing on his tablet. “I definitely do not miss the food on Eden. Get handed a half-warmed plate of slop that you could hardly choke down, and only do so because you’re hungry.”

You studied both of your meals as he worked; his was a vivid shade of orange and smelled divine, though the herbs it was made with tickled your nose. Yours was a more typical pale yellow color and looked much thicker than his. It smelled somewhat familiar, maybe that’s why it felt so comforting.

Caleb looked up at you as he put his little tablet away. He nodded to his bowl, “Want to try a spoon of mine?”

You hesitated. “I do, but. The fuck do you mean it hurts your mouth?”

He laughed. “Just a little, but it’s a good hurt. It’s hard to describe if you haven’t experienced it yet. Brady says it’s “spice”, and that’s typical of the herbs he and her family uses. Apparently it’s not a super common type of food that’s grown anymore. It’s a popular enough soup that he’s able to pull some strings with the Gardeners to keep growing it though. Says she thinks that folks would riot if he couldn’t keep making it.” He laughed again, probably at the indecision your face was making. “Just give it a try, Bro, trust me.” You gave him a look that said “you better be right about this”, and reached for the spoon in his bowl. “Get one of the sweet potatoes too, they’re what make the soup.”

As you dug through the broth, your brow furrowed. “What’s a “sweet” potato?” The spoon found a large chunk of dense foodstuff and you fished it out, along with some of that oblong cereal you recognized from previous meals—the chunk was a dull brown in color, and looked soft, and had a bit of skin on one side.

“It’s a starchy tuber a lot like a normal potato, but it doesn’t taste like one—it’s sweet, which, thinking of, I don’t know that Eden really had anything that was sweet, so you’re in for a treat,” he said as you brought the spoon close to you. It was still really hot, so you let it hover a few moments before trying to eat it.

The potato was still pretty hot when you put it into your mouth, but manageable—until the “spice” hit you. Caleb laughed, probably at the face you made, as a different type of heat spread across your mouth. You covered your mouth as you opened it to try and get a breath of cool air, which pushed the heat into your nose. It startled you, but at the same time, the flavor really hit your senses, and made you realize everything Caleb had said to describe the soup was true.

“Fuck me, that is good,” you said as soon as you got a balance of breathing and chewing correct, the heat of the spice dying down as you did so. The sweet potato was this odd, almost bright flavor, and it went really well with the spice. You reached to put his spoon back into his bowl, and he watched you with a smile like he’d won a game. “How the fuck do you eat a whole bowl of that though, that does hurt.”

“It gets easier when you eat more of it, like, your body gets used to it. And, if you get something from the Bakery to go with it, that tamps down the spice really well.”

You gave him a curious look. “You can get more than one thing?”

“Yeah, as long as you’re not taking more than your macros for the day, of course. Anything you want, just stay within that limit.”

That concept was baffling. “How? Eden had everything under lock and key, what makes it so different here?”

He reached to grab his spoon and stir his soup as he thought of a response. “Apparently, it’s just, always been that way here. After the Quiet Rapture, the macro tracker was employed as a rationing factor, but, the stations that make up the current COI always had trust in their people, and I learned from the Doc that when you trust people and give them space to make their own decisions, they’re pretty good at making good decisions.” He seemed to get lost in thought at that. “Father, liked to say he trusted us, but. Doc helped me see that no, not really.”

You nodded at that. “Yeah, he… Got me on that track of thinking today too.” You reached for your own spoon and gave the soup a stir. It was tempting to keep thinking about the past, but so much of the new was clawing at your brain to figure out, that it was your turn to change the subject for the better; “So, the, macro tracker is a limiting factor but, what’s the leeway? Joseph seemed to make it sound like it wasn't a hard limit.”

“Oh, yeah,” Caleb sounded like his head was far away for a moment, until he dug himself out of the old memories too. “Get as close to your daily goal as possible, but try to stay under as often as possible. Calories is the big one to not go too far over on, but you have a margin of 10% over on any individual nutrient before repeated infractions starts to get suspect. Folks have been given punishments for being Gluttons, but it’s pretty rare, and the council would rather have them see us medics first for any underlying issues than resort to punishment. See, folks get annual metabolic tests done along with their general health check ins to make sure they’re getting the right macros for their bodies, so if someone’s eating over what they need, statistically, it might be a sign their heath has gone awry.”

“Huh,” you replied, digesting that. Your eyes were drawn to the food stalls, and a new question formed; “Why all the different types of food though? Just, holdovers from the before times?”

“That, and it keeps folks happy. The food’s already been grown, so let folks with experience make it into great dishes that folks will enjoy and it makes for better attitudes and better people. It’ll start to make more sense the longer you’re here and off rations, but rations fucking suck. I feel so bad for folks who get roped into missions away from stations, because the foodstuffs able to be taken on missions is way more limited than what can be kept here, let alone the fresh stuff that’s being harvested each day. And, literally what Eden did was essentially ration everything, every day, on end. Here, everything gets used naturally because it wants to get used, folks want it because its prepared well. Or it goes into soup, which is also really good and gets eaten because folks want it.”

You chewed on his words as you stirred your soup, continuing to let it cool. “...Keeps folks happy.” “>I hope we’re able to give you a life you enjoy.” Want. Whatever the COI had going on did seem to be better than what Eden was doing. Same as with “want” and “choose”, you knew the definition of “happy” and “enjoy”, but ever since the Quiet Rapture, those words didn’t have much meaning in every day life, for anyone. It was odd hearing someone you trusted like a Brother say those words so casually, and with so much sincerity.

With little you could think to say to that, you moved to take the first spoon of your own soup. The potatoes you recognized, and there were chunks of white and green vegetables you didn’t recognize, but could surmise from Caleb’s description were the “leek” part of the soup. The potatoes tasted like you expected them to, and the thick broth also tasted like potato—was it a potato mash?—but the vegetables had slight crunch and tasted very similar to the scallions that Caleb had described earlier. Together, it made for a delightfully familiar yet new experience, especially as the flavor was so much more complex than any potato soup you’d had on Eden. There was a lot of it, too, but the more you ate of it, the more you appreciated how much there was—it was so enjoyable, it was hard to stop.

Eventually, you caught Caleb giving you a knowing grin. “Good, right?”

Of course, he had asked as soon as you’d eaten another spoonful, so all you could do was nod and hum an affirmative.

Your thoughts wandered at comprehending the sheer size of the bowl, while wondering how anyone could eat the whole amount in front of them. It’d been a long time since you’d had a filling meal like this. You looked to Caleb, and trying to catch him in between bites, you asked; “How long did the COI have you in prison before your Realization?”

He obviously wasn't expecting that question, and while he acknowledged it, he took another spoon of his food to let himself think. He replied once he had swallowed; “It really wasn’t long at all. Maybe a couple weeks, if even that. I think they got wind of me having medic training pretty quickly and figured that was a useful enough skill that I’d be of way better use not rotting in a cell.” He started to ask you something, then stopped himself; some of the color drained from his face and his eyes widened as he seemed to remember something you’d said earlier. “I was… going to ask you the same thing but… I think you already mentioned that… Fuck, Bro… Three years?”

You nodded quietly, absentmindedly stirring your soup as you tried very hard not to get lost back in the memories, with a brain that really seemed to want to. “I lost count after 1000 sleep cycles, so, not quite three EIC years, by my calculations, but…”

“Close enough, fuck.” He shook his head, “I hardly even remember it, but I can recall it sucked.”

You nodded quietly. You kept your voice low, just above a mutter, “Had me in solitary, too… Not that I’m surprised; can't have your mass murderer loose amongst everyone else… Dunno what they saved me for, for so long, though. Surely, they could’ve found something else harrowing enough for my crime, but. Somehow they found the most appropriate thing…”

Caleb watched you with concern, but managed to sneak some mirth into his tone, “How are you not insane?”

You chuckled once dryly. “I’ve said before, I am. I… I definitely don’t think I’m right in the head, even without the bullshit from the whole blood moon curse, thing.”

He hesitated before he responded; “Well, I certainly wasn’t, when I first got here, so you can’t be,” he said with a light tone, and a hint of uncertainty, like he wasn’t sure how well you were going to take his joke.

You gave him a smile. Judging by just the few things the Doc had led you to thinking about so far, it was true, and there was no denying it.

“The Doc’ll get your head straightened out, promise,” he said, sounding confident. You nodded at that.

Your little tablet made a sound from your pocket. If it had been any louder, it would’ve startled you—that wasn't a phenomena you were expecting. You moved to pick the little machine out of your pocket with your free hand and—fuck. Sighing and letting your spoon rest in the bowl, you moved retrieve the damned thing, and placed it on the table. A notification led you to your message history with Joseph.

“How does 1500 sound for you today?”

You had to check what time it was; your little tablet declared it to be 1208. With some mental math, specifically calculating buffer time into your task of speaking with Morrison, you nodded to yourself and moved to type a response.

“I can do that. Where will I need to go?” You caught Caleb watching with curiosity as you moved to keep eating while awaiting Joseph’s response. “Joseph; vie’s asking me if I can take my first integration class today.”

“Shit, you are busy today,” he replied with his mouth full.

You gave a slightly wry smile and shrugged. “Better busy than not. I’ve had way too much downtime in the past several years. It actually feels really good to be busy.” Just as soon as you ate a spoon of your soup, your little tablet made a sound. Even with the two new experiences in the forefront of your brain, they couldn’t stop a nagging, negative thought from bothering you; as soon as you’d swallowed, you sighed and said quietly; “Better than sitting in that dark prison, with the looming question of ‘is today the day they’re going to kill me’ hanging over my head every waking moment.”

Caleb made a disconcerted sound as you abandoned your spoon again to check the message that came through: “My office; it should be a Point of Interest on your PII’s map!”

“Bro,” he tried to start as you moved to respond to the message.

“Affirmative; thank you, magister.”

“Simon, what the fuck.”

You looked to him and shrugged. “Can you really tell me that you wouldn't have the same thought if you’d been in my position?”

He still looked concerned. “I think you need to talk to the Doc about that, and like. Soon.”

You just shrugged again. In the grand scheme of things, it’d become something you lived with for so long, it wasn’t as nearly a concern as the stress from the expedition, and hardly registered as a problem. But, at his mention of the psychologist, you did look at him pointedly. “Hey, uh. How long, do you think my surgery might go tomorrow?”

That took him a bit off guard. He shook his head after eating a spoon of food to think about it. “I’m not a surgeon, so I can't really say. Especially with the anomalous tissue and what they could find while performing it, I really, really can't say. Why?”

You nodded; you hadn’t expected a straight answer, but it was worth the ask. “Just, wondering. The Doc had wanted to schedule another meeting with him for tomorrow but I just, didn’t know what to expect, so he suggested overmorrow.”

“Probably a good idea, though,” Caleb said, tipping his bowl to scrape the sides with his spoon. “Anesthesia can right fuck up a person for the better half of a day, so count yourself down and out for the whole day.”

You moved to take up your spoon again, chewing on his words. That actually made you nervous… Considering the last time you’d had surgery, you were already so out of it that you slept the day away, and hardly remembered any of it. “What do you mean by, fucked up?” you asked before eating another spoon of your soup.

He set his bowl aside, having finished his. “It’s different for everyone, and even each time someone goes under, but it’s often excessive sleepiness, poor memory retention, and generalized confusion.”

As you continued to eat, Caleb reached over to touch the screen of your little tablet. You watched him closely, Joseph’s words about losing the little machine springing to mind, but all he did was tap it, then read it while it was upside down to him. Unlike when you tapped it, instead of opening up to the program page, it only showed the time—1214. He nodded, and moved to stand; you watched him curiously as he did so.

“I gotta get back to the medical center,” he declared. “I’m still working, technically,” he reminded you as he moved to grab his empty bowl. “You, are free to do whatever.”

You watched him quietly, chewing, as he walked away—not far, just a few dozen meters to where there looked to be other dishes collected, and placed his bowl amongst them. He then returned to where you sat.

“There’s a couple of those collection points dotted around the Commons, you can drop your dish off at any of them. I can’t remember how long integration class takes, but, if you’re free around, say 1600, I can take my second meal break then and meet up with you.”

You gave him an apologetic smile. “I’ve got the class at 1500.”

“Ah, well. Try not to stay out too long, then, I’m only at the medical center until 1800, and if Lea forgets that you’re out when Margie comes in, and you’re not back by the time zhe comes looking for you for check in, zhe’ll have all our asses,” he said with both a light tone and a very serious one simultaneously.

“I shouldn’t be out that late, what could I even do to stay out that late?” you said with confusion and contrariness.

“I dunno, Bro, but I know you’re good at getting into trouble,” he replied with mirth. You snorted a retort. “Commons is open until 2200, so, y’know what, you let me know when you’re down here again, and I’ll come meet you to hang out, even if I’m not hungry, ‘kay?”

“Sure,” you nodded, giving him a smile.

He held out his fist to you. You reached your free hand to—fuck, you were really bad with that today. Caleb gave a slightly awkward smile, seeing what you’d just done, and sighing, you let your spoon rest in the dish, then reached out to tap your fist to his. He moved to stoop down and hug you from where you sat, startling you just a little bit before you felt him reaching to mess up your hair—another of the Brothers’ gestures. You grumbled at him, mostly out of getting knocked off balance, but upon realizing what he was up to, you were able to right yourself and moved to grab his arm around your chest and feigned to pull it off you.

“Caleb—” you growled playfully at him.

He chuckled, “This is way harder than it used to be, with you having long hair.”

“Get off me, Bro,” you grumbled playfully, and though it felt comforting to have that familiar contact with him, your ribs began to protest at the light rough-housing, and the graft on your arm twinged as you pulled it funny in the hold. “Ow, dude,” you spat, this time not joking.

That got him off you at least; he stood, taking his weight off you, and while customarily fixing your hair, looked to you. “Shit, sorry. You okay?”

Even with his fixing, you moved to brush hair out of your face. “Yeah, just. Those ribs are bruised, remember.” He gave you an apologetic smile as you inspected your arm graft. “I’m glad to see you too, but, I’m a fucking mess, right now,” you looked up at him.

“You gotta get better quick so I can stop forgetting,” he joked with an apologetic tone. “Take it easy, I’ll see you later,” he said as he moved off, giving you a casual parting wave.

“Me? Me, take it easy?” you called after him incredulously.

“See you later!” he called back with mirth, not turning around to look at you.

You snorted, but moved to go back to your soup, trying to ignore your ribs smarting. As you picked up the spoon and registered that the food was new, a thought settled heavily into your brain; you were alone. For the first time in years, you were on your own. You’d had a taste of it earlier, before your meeting with the Doctor, but being out in the Commons, it weighed so much heavier on your consciousness. You really were free, but in the Commons, in the middle of a completely new culture, with no one at your side, no one leading you, no one giving you instructions, you felt very exposed.

Is this how Caleb felt when he first got here? It had to have been worse for him, though, at least you had him that you could ask for help.

Recognizing your brain was going down a path you didn’t want it to, you took a deep breath. You had tasks, and you focused on keeping your itinerary in mind to give yourself direction. Being busy certainly was the preferred option, you thought to yourself as you tucked in to finish your food.

Spotting your little tablet was still on the table, you moved to stash it back into your pocket before you really forgot it. That was the last thing you needed—to come off as irresponsible the first day you were allowed to wander around on your own. The Doctor’s words from earlier came back to the forefront of your thoughts; “The actions you took during your Realization show that you are an incredibly dependable person.” Was that really true? Who exactly held that sentiment? It was hard to believe that what happened in that sub, was enough to change anyone’s opinion of you, much less the Council.

But, you were here, and not dead… So that had to account for something.

With your food finished, you stood and grabbed the towel—at first, attempting to grab it with your left hand which just resulted in you grumbling at yourself—tossing it over your shoulder for temporary keeping, then took the bowl to the collection area that Caleb had gone to. Looking around, you studied the area a bit better now that you didn’t have immediate obligations to fulfill. Caleb was right, there were several other collection areas dotted around the vast seating area, and what originally looked like a maze of tables and dividers began to make more sense the more you could make a map of it in your brain.

You headed to the outer edge of the area where the alcoves were, and initially stepped up to the soup stall. The proprietor was sending off another patron when you arrived, but she gave you a smile as you emoved the towel from your shoulder to hand back to him.

“Broady?” you asked to confirm that you had the correct name in your brain.

“Brady,” she corrected.

You nodded. “Thank you, Brady,” you repeated, trying to log it into your memory. You gave him an uncertain look; “Ma’am? Sir?”

She gave you a big smile. “Both are fine.”

You returned the smile. “Will do; thank you again, sir.”

You gave him a parting wave that she returned, and headed off to study the rest of the area.

The stall next to the soup stall smelled like char, and the display board showed images of vegetables that had been somewhat burnt and speared on a long metal stick. You didn’t recognize a lot of the vegetables included on the image, and it didn’t look very filling, but the smell made it intriguing. Brows furrowing, you studied the list—beside each name you didn’t recognize was a set of macros, with a “per gram” rider. Did the stall let you build your own dish? Interesting.

The next stall on made you stop and stare. The display board declared that the stall offered cooked fish. Living animals? Here? On this station? Eden had livestock in the before times, but you knew that shortly after the Quiet Rapture, they’d been culled since there was no way to feed them and the people that lived there. So to see this station had fish, was beyond baffling. Father had been right… The COI certainly did have their secrets… You’d have to ask Caleb about it later. You shook your head and moved on, trying not to dwell too much on how weird everything was.

The final food stall declared itself Delicatessen, and it’s display board was the most populated of the lot, which matched the sheer size of the alcove itself. While, once again, you didn’t recognize a lot of the ingredients listed, there were familiar words, such as “sandwich” and “salad”. How was this stall different than the previous salad stall, you had to wonder. But the sheer size of the offerings list was intriguing, and the amount of time you stood studying it attracted one of the two proprietors (the first stall you’d seen with two proprietors) to see if you needed help. You gave him an apologetic smile and said you were simply looking.

Beyond the food stalls, the others were more scattered around the area. A couple occupied and several unoccupied stalls stood between the food stalls and Morrison’s, and you got a better look at them now that your focus wasn't solely on heading there. The first stand seemed to be empty at first glance; the lights weren’t on, and while there was obviously items within the alcove, the proprietor didn’t seem to be present. Getting closer, you saw the display board claimed the space was for Alyx’s stand. Seems she was off doing her official job. The display board gave a summary of the services and goods she offered: seeds, fertilizer, several varieties of irrigation systems, advice, pruning, diagnostics… The list went on for quite a while, and considering you knew very little about plants in general, a lot of it seemed quite involved, especially as the trade prices listed included seed trade, time investment, or caloric cession, with each having the caveat of “or more” tacked on the end. The idea was tempting, but you had no idea what the future held for you, so it was hard to try and make any plans, especially in the case of caring for another living thing.

Moving on, the next stall had the universal sign of the medic’s cross, which you found curious. The proprietor sat behind the counter reading something on his tablet, and he glanced up when you approached. “Let me know when you’re ready,” he said, to which you nodded. The inside of the alcove was lined with extremely well-organized items on multitudes of shelves, and a sign of the stall’s wares cleared up some of your confusion; it offered medications and other personal effects. Instead of trade prices, each item’s name instead listed a count beside it. You could surmise that was some sort of limit—which made you realize, this sort of information was probably what the integration class was for. That would certainly make sense… Having no clue what you’d even need, you moved to head off without requesting anything; as you did, you caught the proprietor watching you curiously out of the corner of your eye.

Finally, stepping up to Morrison’s counter, hy appeared to be hard at work already. Hy sat stooped over a relatively small machine that made a rhythmic chunk sound that hy was feeding fabric through. Huh, so that’s how clothing was made. When hy stopped the machine to adjust hys work, you spoke up at a just loud enough of a volume so hy could hear you, but not so loud as to startle hymn: “Excuse me, seraph.”

As seemed to be fitting for hymn, hy jumped in surprise in an exaggerated way and turned toward your voice. “Simon! Good to see you, boy,” hy chuckled, putting a hand on hys heart when hy registered it was you. You gave hymn an apologetic smile as hy set hys work carefully aside and moved to stand. “Come round, there’s a hallway just to the side of my stall here, I’ll let you in.”

Let you in? To hys stall? Hy pointed toward your right, and stepping back away from the stall, you caught sight of a narrow walkway that ducked between stalls. Uncertainty tugged at your subconsciousness, but that never stopped you, and you cautiously headed down the hall. Near the end, a door opened to your left, and Morrison beckoned you inside. Hy stepped aside to let you enter, and the sound of the door shutting behind you registered as your attention was kept by the appearance of the room you found yourself in. It appeared to be a partitioned off section of the stall’s alcove, judging by how light filtered through a doorway on the opposite side of the room from where you came in. There was a more orderly organization in this back room, as the walls were lined with shelving and containers also full with fabrics, but the few bits that were sticking out of the bins back here, looked to be larger than just scraps, unlike the those the front of hys stall was decorated with.

“What, no jumpsuit for alteration?” Morrison asked with a slight disappointment, catching your attention.

You looked to hymn from your study of hys space. “No, not yet,” you said with an appeasing tone and an apologetic smile. “I need to have more of that arm removed, so I was going to wait until after that.”

“Dreadful, dreadful,” hy said, hys face taking on an apologetic expression. “But, understandable. Come, sit,” hy motioned over to where hy had a small sofa and a rolling chair—and a what you realized was a dummy after looking at the humanoid figure for more than just the glance that originally took you by surprise.

Sighing in relief, you shook your head and moved to take a seat on the sofa—at least, you assumed the rolling chair was for Morrison to work from. Why the Hell did hy have a dummy in hys workshop? You hadn’t been expecting anyone else to be in the stall, so seeing it’s figure out of the corner of your eye took you completely off guard.

Morrison stepped over to one of the boxes on a shelf and removed an identical pair of boots to the ones you were wearing from it. As hy brought them over, you stooped down to remove your current boots—at least that was the easy part. Hy sat on the rolling chair and scooted over to you, then held the boots out to show you to see the edits that hy’d made to them; in the center of the inner side of each one, hy’d cut down the length and sewn in the zippers he’d picked out yesterday. The quality of the work was fantastic, you’d never have known that hy’d done it hymnself, if you hadn't asked hymn to—the zippers looked like they’d always been there, and there wasn't a thread loose anywhere. The pull on the zipper had been swapped out to a big metal ring you could easily loop a finger through, rather than the small pull tab you were used to on most zippers.

“Those look excellent, Morrison,” you said, looking to hys face.

“Thank you, sir,” hy replied with a humble tone. “I want to make sure that you can get them on all by yourself, so I want to tie them proper while they’re on you, then have you unzip and zip them back up. If you have any trouble at all, I can take them back to the sewer to edit them.”

Hy set them on the floor in front of you to allow you to give them a try; as they were already unzipped and unlaced, they were easy to slip on, and zipping them up unlaced was very simple, the zippers hy’d picked out moving very smoothly along their tracks. Hy moved to lace your boots for you, and did so with an extremely practiced hand—the lacing was neither too tight nor too loose, and when hy prompted you to test how the tightness of the lacing felt, it was perfect.

“Go ahead and unzip ‘em and then rezip ‘em, then. I’ll permanently tie the laces once we’re sure they’re right,” hy prompted.

You did so, the zippers unzipping smoothly. Attempting to zip them back up was the challenge of course, and Morrison watched carefully to both your movements and the boots; the metal rings gave you far more leverage in your attempt to fight the fabric, and though it took a few stops and readjustments, both in your technique and the way the fabric hugged your ankle, without too much trouble, both boots zipped up just fine.

You nodded to hymn and moved to sit upright. “I couldn’t ask for better, thank you, seraph,” you smiled.

Hy returned the smile, then moved to double, then triple knot the lacing. “Good to hear, good to hear. If you ever need adjustments, if those zippers ever lose a tooth, get snagged, or just give you a headache, you bring those back and I’ll fix ‘em right up. And don’t wait ‘til they’re fallin’ apart to come see me either—since you can’t just casually trade me for another set, let me fix ‘em before they get too bad, y’hear?” You nodded an affirmative. “Anything else you need from me at the moment, anything at all?”

You were reminded that Joseph recommended speaking to Morrison about your PII. “Actually, I have a bit of a predicament. I’m not sure if you can help with it, but, I can tell you’re creative, you’ll probably have some ideas.” Hy seemed to puff up hys chest at the complement. “I’m having trouble keeping a grip on my PII, especially when typing. I don’t have enough leverage to hold it, and type at the same time, which limits my ability to use it.”

Hy nodded very seriously at your inquiry, putting a hand to hys chin in a show of thought. “Can I see your PII?” hy asked.

You retrieved it from your pocket, and handed it to hymn. Hy turned it around in hys hands, examining the housing of the machine, running hys fingers along the edges, even attempting to get hys fingernails in certain grooves.

“Certain models of these things have different constructions,” hy said as hy inspected it. “Sadly, yours doesn’t seem to be one of the models that has cutouts that I can just sew some webbing to to give you a handle. Jerri down the way may have some attachments for your model, but those are pretty rare these days.” Hy handed the little tablet back to you. “I would suggest you see Jerri, see what she has to offer for you. If she doesn’t have any attachments that can help you, see if she’d be willing to weld some little attachment points onto the back; if she does that, then I can make you a handle.”

Hy demonstrated what hys vision was by having you hold the little machine as though you wanted to type, then pointing to the locations anchor points would need to be welded on so that a strap could be sewn onto the anchors, and how that strap would hug your hand to allow you leverage to both hold the machine and type. It seemed so simple, yet so effective, in theory at least. You nodded in agreement at hys vision, and gave hymn a smile. “Thank you very much for your help, seraph.”

Morrison offered hys hand for you to shake, and you moved to transfer your little tablet into your other hand—which resulted in it landing in your lap. Fuck. You sighed heavily as hy gave a light-hearted chuckle. Picking the damned thing up, you slid it back into your pocket, then took hys offered hand. “Any time, Simon, any time! Any time you need to brainstorm things for your abilities, just come to me, I’m happy to help!”

Hy stood from hys rolling chair, and offered to help you to your feet—you took it. Hy moved to the door that you’d come through a bit ago and opened it for you, and gave you a casual parting wave as you stepped out. You returned it as he shut the door behind you.

Heading back to the main walkway, you continued down the loop around the area in the direction you’d been heading initially. Passing several empty stalls, you wandered past an active one that, as with Alyx’s stall, also seemed to lack it’s proprietor, though the lights were on. A cursory look around at the wares was a mixed bag—just about anything you could think of, from bits to baubles, lined the walls and even spilled over the counter of the alcove. A sign on the counter stated “Norrick’s Scrap & Tool Sharpening.” There was an old fashioned bell on the counter—probably to call for the proprietor.

Not what you were looking for at the moment, you continued, which brought you to the last stall on the loop—and it was a huge alcove, as well. A sign hanging from the cutout of the alcove stated Jerri’s Rigs. A curious look around at the wares displayed a vast array of ship and computer parts, which you found incredibly curious that there would be a trade stall for those sorts of items. As with the other two, the proprietor didn’t seem to be around—instead, you noticed an orange button on the counter that was labeled “Call”. Judging by the size of the alcove, you assumed that the proprietor was off doing tasks, and that’s what the call button was for—you pushed it.

An old-fashioned buzzing noise went off in the back of the alcove, far, far beyond what you could actually see due to the display shelves of gear and wares. From equally far back, you heard a gruff voice yell, “On my way!” You busied yourself by looking around at the parts on display with interest; there were booster engines, nav systems, servos, chips, wiring—anything you could think of for a ship’s operation, seemed to be behind that counter. Which, you found odd. Were the ships of the COI independently owned? If that was the case, why did the Consolidation not collectively operate their transports? If the ships were collectively operated, why would they not have this type of gear down in the airdock for immediate repairs?

You caught movement as the proprietor made her way to the front of the alcove, and you gave her a casual wave as greeting as she approached. “What can I do for you?” she asked, even while she was still quite a bit of ways away.

“Joseph sent me. Said you might be able to help me with my PII,” you said, cutting out some of the details of the run-around you’d been sent on.

“Huh. What sort of help?” she asked, seeming skeptical. As she got closer though, you could see her expression changed to a more understanding one upon getting a better look at you.

“Well, I was told that you might have some attachments for them laying around?” you gave her a slightly awkward smile. “See, I have some trouble holding onto the little thing and typing at the same time.”

“That I can certainly see,” she said as she stepped up to the counter. She was both taller than you and stocky at the same time, built like a barricade and certainly looked like she worked lifting heavy gear every day. She offered her hand—it was splotched with black from whatever she’d been working on in the back; you took it still, unafraid of a little engine grease. “Jerri.”

“Simon.”

“Good to meet you. What model PII do you have?”

You made an uncertain chuckle and moved to pull the little tablet from your pocket and hand it to her. She took it with her opposite hand, which seemed to have a little less grease on it, and studied it as she wiped her free hand on a very grease-stained and tattered cloth on her shoulder. She handed it back in just as much time as it took her to give it a look-over, and moved to wipe both her hands. “I think I have just the thing for you, but I need to know that Joseph virself requested it.”

You nodded and moved to tap around on your little tablet, inadvertently giving Jerri a display of how difficult it was for you to use. Opening Joseph’s message thread, you showed her the set of messages Joseph had sent about the work being on vir. She nodded.

“Contract taken, thank you sir. I’ll get in touch with Joseph about it, no need to tell vir yourself. At that, let me get it for you,” she said concisely before moving back into the alcove.

You hadn't expected anyone to actually ask to see Joseph’s “binding contract” message, but were quite thankful that vie had sent it now. It also made you wonder just what the hell Jerri could possibly have that warranted that level of business dealing. She hadn’t gone too deep into the alcove before she began to dig around in several trays and crates, all of what looked like small computer parts. Eventually, she pulled a somewhat large sized metal object from a crate; she inspected the outside before opening it—when opened, it looked like a tablet and a keyboard attached by a hinge. She inspected the inside of the folded area as she stepped back toward the counter, leaving it open as she walked. “This is a dock for PIIs and similar tablets. They’re very rarely used anymore, but for someone with a disability such as yours, this should help immensely.”

She set the dock on the counter for you to look over. The machine was at least 40 centimeters in width, 25 in height, and 5 in depth when shut. The keyboard wasn’t cramped, but was also condensed enough that running your fingers over it in interest made it seem like it’d be easy to type on. It did seem perfect… but it wasn’t exactly what you were after. You looked to her. “This is perfect, truly, but… I was hoping to be able to get help more for keeping a hold on the PII while using it by itself.”

She watched you as you spoke with an expression that was hard to read, but upon understanding your words, realization crossed her eyes and she nodded. “Of course. The dock is the limitation of what I have that is made for your specific PII model, and you are more than welcome to keep it in addition to any other solution, but you sound like you have something in mind for your need.”

You nodded. “I spoke with Morrison just a little bit ago, an hy had an idea for welding anchor points to the chassis to allow hymn to sew a handle onto it.”

She nodded. “Of course. Can you show me where those points are?”

You did so, and gave her a similar demonstration to the one Morrison gave to you. While you held your little tablet in the way that felt most balanced for typing on it, Jerri took out a piece of charcoal from a pocket on her smock, and drew a few lines on the tablet’s chassis—marks, you recognized, to reference where to place the additions.

“Feel free to take a seat in the courtyard; this won’t take long, but longer than I’d feel comfortable leaving you standing,” she said, then she took your little tablet and headed back into the depths of her alcove with it.

After having the importance of that little tablet drilled into your brain, it was hard to let it be taken away, but it was obvious there was no helping you with it without taking it from you, even momentarily. You picked up the dock from the counter and took it with you to go sit down, the act of it feeling like a fair compensation in case Jerri didn’t bring your tablet back. The Commons was rather quiet at this point in time, and the lack of people milling around attracted your attention toward the clusters of soft seating; you chose an over-sized armchair near Jerri’s stall, which allowed you to sit cozily cross-legged without pulling too badly at your graft donation sites.

Setting the dock into your lap, you fought at first to open the damned thing—half due to it seemed to be locked shut, and half because your brain kept trying to utilize your missing hand to fight with it—until you recalled how Jerri had opened it to inspect it. Running your fingers along the right edge of the bottom half, you found a spring-loaded toggle that when you pulled on it, released the screen from the front of the keyboard and it swung open in a controlled manner, not too fast, not too slow, until it stopped at an about 110 degree angle to the keyboard. You made a face at it, impressed.

“Why aren’t these things used anymore?” you muttered to yourself, letting your fingers glance over the keys. They were raised just a few millimeters above the surface of the backing, and each one had hardly a mil of space between them. The machine hadn’t turned on, and even as you test-typed whole sentences to get a feel for it, the screen stayed dark. How was it powered? It did make you excited to try it though.

Moving to gently close the screen, it clicked into place and didn’t spring back open. You flipped it over—carefully, recognizing how badly your brain wanted to use both hands today—to inspect it further; on the bottom side was a socket that looked like it could hold many different sizes of small tablets, which is what you figured allowed it to be the dock for the PII. There was some sort of mechanism that looked as though once a tablet was inserted into the socket, would extend and lock the tablet in place, no matter how large or small it was, but you couldn’t tell from it’s current state how exactly it worked. Hell, hopefully the little tablet would fit in the socket properly with the new modifications. That was a thought you didn’t want to think about. That did bring up another thought though; to carry this relatively large machine, you’d definitely need to put your new satchel to use. Then that line of thought made you wonder, what even would you use the dock for? It was cumbersome versus the little tablet, but, then again, you didn’t know how often typing large amounts of information was going to come up…

Satisfied with your inspection of the dock, you let it rest in your lap as you looked around the area. It was well kept, and folks conversing with one another kept their voices to respectable volumes. It was different, but it was nice, the more you thought about it. Not knowing anyone eased the burden of feeling responsibility—were you on Eden, making sure folks were on task and where they were supposed to be was a background task you always had to be aware of. Here… you felt sort of aimless. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing you didn’t have to enforce order, but, not having a task was odd. That did make you think back to your meeting with the Doc earlier, how, how did he put it?,surveiled, life was, on Eden.

“Here you are, sir.”

The voice broke you out of your memories, and you looked up to see Jerri holding your little tablet out to you.

“Oh, thank you, ma’am,” you reached up to take it from her.

“I don’t expect the welds to break, but the anchors themselves are pretty thin, in order to allow the PII to still have a low profile and keep them from being a bigger weak point than they already are. If they ever break, bring it right back to me, I’ll fix it up right quick.”

Her assessment was sound; the pieces of metal she’d found to weld onto the tablet’s chassis were skinny but relatively sturdy—and still a little hot to the touch. You looked to her from inspecting the work. “Thank you ma’am, will do.” You set the tablet on top of the dock to free your hand, and offered it to her.

She took it and gave yours a courtesy shake. “Good working with you. I’m happy to do any work you need from me to help yourdisability.”

“Appreciate it,” you gave her an appreciative smile as you parted.

She gave you a parting nod and headed back to her stall.

COI members really just, were that helpful, huh? It as so strange. Sure, on Eden there was an expectation of “no one left behind”, but, maybe that was what not having your whole day planned out for you allowed you to do… To, have the ability to choose to help someone, when you weren’t expected to be somewhere, be doing something else…

You sighed and juggled the machines on your lap so that you could try slotting the little tablet into the dock. Trying it screen-inward first, due to the modifications made, as soon as the screen made solid contact with the dock, a pair of metal anchors extruded from the dock’s innards and ratcheted into place to hold the tablet tightly. A thin metal panel slid over top, encasing the tablet in an extra bid of safety—thankfully, that part didn’t seem to be obstructed by the modification done to the tablet.

“What the fuck,” you muttered. How the fuck did you get the tablet out now?

Studying the bottom face of the dock, you noticed a small button that hadn’t been there before. It was bright orange and labeled Eject in black. Did the docking procedure make the button available?

“Huh,” you muttered. Might as well see what the dock was all about, since the little tablet was already in place.

Flipping it back over, you pulled the open toggle, and the screen opened as before, this time lit up with the friendly orange display that the tablet normally had. Huh. The tablet itself must power the dock. The interface displayed was the same as on the tablet itself, just, bigger, and well laid out for the larger screen. The screen acted like a tablet, but accepted key input from keyboard. What a handy piece of machinery. Why didn’t they use these anymore?

Closing the dock again and flipping it over once more, you hit the Eject button, and the metal panel slid back and the anchors holding the tablet in place retracted, allowing the tablet to be retrieved. You did so, and stowed it in your pocket for the time being. Thoroughly impressed, you couldn’t wait to use it. That’d have to wait though, you still had to see Morrison to get a strap attached to the tablet, then go meet with Joseph. Better get on with that.

Keeping a good grip on the dock, you moved to stand, carefully, and headed across the Commons to Morrison’s stall.

It’d been an incredibly long day, and you’d told yourself after the integration class had taught you about more of the PII’s functions, that you were going to reward yourself with checking out your apartment. You couldn’t stay—yet—but after checking in with the medical center for another nerve block, (and to remind Lea you were out and about) and taking second meal with Caleb, (shit, you forgot to ask him about the fish!) you followed the map on your little tablet to the point of interest marked as your apartment, going slowly through the hallways both to make sure you didn’t miss a turn, and to carefully pace yourself.

Standing in front of the door that your tablet indicated, you inspected the area, matching it up with what you’d learned in integration; the door had a reader that would unlock it when you held your tablet up to it, and to the left of the door was a parcel locker and a laundry receptacle built into the wall.

Interestingly, there was an orange light on the parcel box; integration class had taught you that meant there was something inside. Brows furrowing in confusion, (what could possibly be in there?) you held your tablet up to the parcel locker—just like the front door, it had a reader that the tablet unlocked when held up to it. The light turned green, and a mechanical whir sound indicated the door had been unlocked and was ready to open. Unraveling your hand from the tablet’s new handle, you dropped your tablet into your pocket, and swung the locker’s door open, founding a small paper pouch inside. Brows furrowing in confusion, you picked it up and pulled it out—it was deceptively heavy, enough that inspecting it further felt cumbersome and secondary to your original intention here.

You dropped it in your other pocket, closed the door to the parcel locker—of which it closed with a chunk and the lock audibly reengaged—and moved to retrieve your tablet again. Sliding your hand in between the new handle and the tablet’s chassis for security, you held the little machine up to the reader on the apartment door. An orange light on the reader switched to green, and a similar whirring to the locker’s door indicated the lock was disengaging. The door then opened with a hiss, allowing you to step inside.

When you did, a set of lights on the ceiling turned on, which you had learned was something you could program them to do or not do with the tablet, but it was still really cool to see happen. A short hallway led down to the rest of the apartment, which was one room plus a bathroom. Dominating most of the room was a decently large bed, which was strange to see—even knowing that the station was made well before the Quiet Rapture, it was weird to think that something like that hadn’t been salvaged yet, or that this station had invested in such provisions in the first place.

It also made you pause and think of how much of Eden’s culture expected spaces to be communal; for as large as the station was, it had been a colonial station, which set the expectation. Bunks and cots were your normal—this was luxury, something you’d imagine the clan leaders or Father having. You stared at it for a few moments before moving to sit on it. It was comfortable, but it made you realize how, contrary to how lonely Eden was interpersonally, it was physically lonely here.

The room was quiet, too quiet, even. At least the privacy felt nice, but that almost felt empty in comparison.

Trying to get yourself out of the unhelpful line of thinking, you continued to look around. The bed itself stood centered against the wall opposite the entry hallway, furnished with a pair of pillows and a set of sheets and a blanket, with a nightstand pressed up against the lefthand side of the headboard. Opposite the bed was a large screen mounted on the wall; you’d learned in integration that the PII could project to it, and that media from the intranet could be enjoyed on the larger screen—and from the comfort of one’s own bed, it seemed. A writing desk with a large, comfortable looking chair stood in the far corner. Along the back wall was a rail that you assumed was for clothing, back in the day, when folks had more than just a couple sets to their names. An alcove had been built into the wall the bathroom was behind, and upon standing to do a closer inspection, it looked like it’d once been a shelving unit. The shelves had probably been salvaged long ago. Curious that the rail hadn’t been…

Stepping into the bathroom, your movement made a light flick on within the room. It was pleasantly spacious, with a glass-walled shower that had enough room to step completely out of the flow of water, a wide sink in the counter, a wall-length mirror behind said counter, and a pretty standard toilet tucked in the back corner of the room. A pair of towels and washing cloths and a couple of drinking cups had been stacked on the counter. More surprisingly, there was a collection of small capped plastic bottles in a drawer beneath the counter. They were empty, and each was labelled with a type of medicine—oh right, you’d learned about that in integration; the stall you’d passed in the Commons earlier, the one with the universal medic’s cross, that had personal effects, you could take the bottles to to have tablets dispensed into. Useful.

Heading back into the main room, you moved to sit back on the bed. This was yours… It was hard to wrap your head around, and you quietly allowed yourself to soak it in, trying to accept that fact. Unsure of how the line of thinking got you there, eventually you remembered the little paper pouch in your pocket, from the parcel locker. Unweaving your hand from the tablet’s new handle and sliding the little machine into the pocket you typically put it in, you fought to reach into your opposite pocket—why the fuckdid you put it in there, you knew you couldn’t reach into that pocket easily. After a couple minutes’ struggle, you managed to get a hold of it and drag it out—though now you were cramped from trying to twist in a way bodies weren’t made to. You’d have to ask Morrison if hy could move that pocket closer or something so you could still use it.

Grumbling, you tossed the pouch down onto the bed beside you and gave your body a stretch before inspecting it. It had landed folded side down, so you flipped it over to find the opening—doing so, you found writing on it. Huh. Lifting it back up, the words became clearer: “Figured you might want this back. -Joseph”

Your brows furrowed; what the fuck could that mean? From Joseph? Did you somehow lose something at integration or, perhaps on the transport? What could you possibly have lost? You slid your thumb under the pouch’s closure flap and undid it, lifting the bottom of the packet to allow the contents to slide out and onto the bed.

Your Brother’s glass pendant that contained the Last Tree’s seed, slid unceremoniously out of the paper pouch and onto the sheet. Your eyes went wide, and you reached immediately to scoop it up, but your expression wasn't solely at the seed’s presence—it’s appearance was shocking as well.

The glass was broken in several places, moreso than it had been last you’d seen it in the sub. Fleshy growths, now withered and grey, had tried to grab onto the glass, to get underneath it and to the seed itself, but the seed had… retaliated? It had broken through the glass, growing larger with roots and even what passed as tiny branches escaping it’s confines, pushing the glass panes apart and stressing the solder that held the panes closed—it looked more like a miniature version of the Last Tree than it did a seed. In two places where the fleshy growths had tried to invade the glass, the seed had grown outward and pushed the growths away, and the growths looked as though they were repelled by the plant, growing away and around the seedling, avoiding it.

Grasping the pendant carefully, you held it to your heart. A million thoughts entered your mind at once—why did Joseph let you have this? Didn’t the council confiscate all of these? How did your Brother get his into the sub? How did the seedling grow? Didn’t Caleb say they were dead in that glass? Did that mean the blood affected it too? Wouldn’t Science want to study it then? If it was growing, wouldn't Joseph have wanted to send it to the agricultural ring? Was it alive? If it was still alive, how were you even supposed to keep it alive? Did you have a responsibility to give it to Science or the Gardeners? Why did Joseph let you have this? Vie probably thought it was dead. They all probably thought it was dead. You weren’t sure if it was alive.

Then an instinct put a thought in your mind you couldn’t get rid of—it is alive.

“How do I.. care for you, little one?” you muttered to it.

The cups in your bathroom. You stood and marched into the bathroom, setting the pendant down on the counter to grab one of the cups. You didn’t want to fuck around with broken glass, and figured you’d need help to free the seedling from it’s cage later, but at least you could rest the pendant on the bottom of the cup and give it some water. Setting the cup into the bottom of the sink, just below the faucet, you set the pendant into the cup, standing it upright against the side, and very carefully turned on the tap so it would only barely dribble water into the bottom of the cup. You let it fill just long enough to raise the water line above the seedling’s little roots, trying not to suffocate it—at least, with your very little knowledge about plants, you were pretty sure they could suffocate…

“It’s not soil, but… Hopefully that will do until I can get you some,” you said to it, lifting the cup and carefully carrying it back into the main room. You set it on the nightstand, and looked up at the lighting situation. There was a light just above the bed, one in the far corner of the room above the desk, and one near the entry hallway.

Sitting on the bed, you pulled your little tablet from your pocket, and started tapping around on it. Utilizing what you’d learned about it’s functionality from integration class, you tapped into the program that allowed you to configure aspects about the room. After some fucking with the program, you figured out how to get the light above the bed to stay on at all times, while allowing the others to turn off after a period of no motion in the room.

Looking back to the little seedling, you felt bad that you couldn’t get it out of the glass yet. “Just a little longer… I promise,” you said to it apologetically.

Going back to your little tablet, you tapped out of the previous program, and over to the messaging program, and into Caleb’s message history.

“You’re never going to guess what I have.”

Why were you nervous? Sure, it probably had something to do with the fact that you’d never consciously gotten ready for being operated on before, but as Margie and Kerry—who had been specially assigned to help with the surgery and their presence had been a surprise when you walked in—went through a final pre-op checklist, fear crept up into your brain like a slow chill.

They were talking in big words that you didn’t know the meaning of, making their conversation hard to follow, but the gist of their topic was how Kerry had more experience—for what counted as experience with this mutation—operating on the mutated cells and spotting them in the moment, and Margie, being a pain specialist, was going to be secondary surgeon to Kerry and primarily watch for your body having negative reactions during the surgery—not that they expected any, but because the way the blood had mutated you was so unknown, they needed to be prepared for anything.

Kerry must have caught onto your apprehension, and reached to put their hand on yours comfortingly. “It’ll be even more safe today than on the tow ship—you’re in much better shape now, physically, and we have our entire host of surgical and emergency equipment here; you’ll be just fine,” they said gently.

You nodded, understanding that logically, but it didn’t help quell the fear. “Something feels wrong.”

Margie nodded. “The Curse,” zhe joked.

You gave zer an uneasy smile as Kerry chuckled. “You joke, but… Yeah.”

Zhe pulled a tablet up to look at. “Your anti-psychotic was refreshed just a couple hours ago. With any luck, it’ll keep The Curse at bay for the duration of the surgery,” zhe said with a serious tone. “But, we’ll have several points of vital sign monitoring on you throughout, basic gear for the type of surgery in the first place. I’ll… keep an eye on your vitals for anything out of the ordinary.”

Kerry gave zer a furrowed brow as you nodded, feeling a little better at zer reassurance.

Margie caught their look; “Apparently that hallucination thing he’s been seeing, physically tried to kill him. There’s data from Tanner’s log that mentions it in no uncertain terms—and I’m sure you’ve had enough run-ins with Tanner to know that ze doesn’t fuck around and put funny shit in hir reports.”

“What? How does a hallucination harm someone?” Kerry asked, shocked. They looked at you; “The tooth monster? It physically harmed you?

You nodded smally. “It was choking me.”

Kerry’s face lost some of it’s color. “Marg, you didn’t see the thing that actually for real almost killed him. There’s no question why he’s afraid, if the hallucination monster looks anything like that thing.”

Zhe understandably looked skeptical, and looked to you. “When is the last time you saw the hallucination monster?”

“When it tried to choke me. I’ve been pretty good at keeping up with the anti-psychotics since then,” you looked between the medics.

Zhe nodded. “We really can’t delay the surgery, but we’ll do our damnedest to keep you safe, okay? Hopefully the anti-psychotic will do the heavy lifting.” Zhe looked to Kerry. “You’re the one who experienced him seeing it, what was up with that?”

They shrugged. “It was, a normal hallucination, as far as we knew. Pretty typical PTSD reactions—being awoken by nightmares, seeing it standing over him, it moving in the shadows. It always seemed to disappear when someone interacted with it, or broke his line of sight to it.”

Margie’s face took on a conflicted look. “Tanner’s log confirms that… We’ll have to hands-on assist his wake up then. It is possible to dream when under anesthesia, and anesthesia dreams can be far more fucked up than normal dreams, because it stops your body from waking itself when under nightmare duress, and I know you mentioned that that’s when it attacked you, coming off of a dream,” zhe said to you, then looked back to Kerry. “If we’re both there when he wakes, we have a good chance of interfering with it if it manifests again.”

Kerry nodded. “Solid plan. Do you think asking Lea or Caleb to assist with the wake up would be too much?”

Zhe mulled it over. “We can call in Caleb when we’re getting ready to wake him up. Lea isn’t up to speed with what happened with the hallucination attacking, but Caleb is.”

When they mentioned bringing in Caleb to help, a bit of the fear alleviated; something about the idea of your Brother, someone you knew you could implicitly trust, being present to help grounded youin reality, and you nodded to them both.

They both looked to you when you nodded. Kerry gave a you a small smile. “I just knew you’d have to go back under the knife for this; I’m sorry I couldn’t have done a better job in the first place. You were so injured, I did the best I could.”

You returned their smile. “I don’t blame you.”

Their smile widened a bit. “Ready to get it over with, then, Simon?”

You nodded. There wasn't going to be a better time, no matter how afraid you were, and their plan did alleviate some of the fear. You just had to trust them. Margie flipped zer hand in a “lay back” motion, and you dutifully did so, even though the metal operating table was incredibly uncomfortable. As Margie wandered away to start working on an IV drip, Kerry got you situated with blankets and a pillow, finalizing their fussing by tucking several towels under the remainder of your left arm.

As Kerry moved away to get tools ready, Margie came back with not just an IV drip, but juggling a couple machines that were on rolling stands. “If you’re already nervous, don’t look at Kerry when they come back,” zhe warned, fussing with some sensors that zhe then moved to stick to your skin in various areas. “In fact, you can just close your eyes and relax at this point; I’ll give you the ready-go when I’m going to knock you out, but you don’t need to pay attention to anything from here on.”

Your face went a little cold—you hadn’t thought of that before and were suddenly very thankful to Margie for mentioning it. You nodded quietly and kept your eyes on all the machinery that Margie had with zer, watching zer for cues even though zhe had given you permission to not look. Hearing Kerry rolling a stand over to your left side made you instinctively close your eyes, though—stubborn as you were, the fear grabbed a hold of your subconscious and dispelled any contrariness.

“Ready Kerry?” you heard Margie ask from your right side.

“Ready when Simon is,” they replied from your left.

You took a deep, steadying breath, and nodded. “Let’s, get it over with.”

“M’kay, little stick in your right arm,” came Margie’s voice from the darkness. The stick smarted without visual input dampening the sensory experience, and it was followed by a piece of tape being stuck to your skin—probably to keep it in place. “We’ll see you soon; kick that thing’s ass if y—”

The atrium that held the Last Tree was dark, as dark as it ever was, ever since the Quiet Rapture. There wasn't a soul around, when usually there was someone, a Brother guarding the area, or Petitioners, or Gardeners—anyone.

The tree was a sorry sight—it had been for a long time, and no matter how many people recognized that it looked poorly, none wanted to accept it was dead. Not dying, dead. It’s bare branches still held a few long petrified leaves, a pitiful sight to behold when it didn’t feel as though it was all that long ago it’s foliage was full and beautiful, soaking in the fading starlight that still reached the atrium.

In the silence, you moved to sit on the retaining wall that surrounded the Tree’s soil. You moved your left hand to touch the soil, letting your fingers dig into the loam, unafraid to do so, even knowing what the loam was comprised of. If anything, it felt reverential to do so, knowing that it was your hand that assisted in putting that loam there. It’d been too long since the last Salvation for the loam to be wet, but it was pleasantly damp as you caressed it.

“I’m sorry.”

Your voice echoed in the atrium, regardless of how softly you had spoken. Nothing moved besides your hand and your chest with your breathing, and no sound made a response to your apology.

“I can't come home,” you said, hardly above a mutter, and yet it boomed in the silence of the atrium. “I’m not making it back to the Grove. I’m not your Son anymore. Please don’t wait up for me.”

Your fingers found a thin root within the loam that had tunneled its way toward the retaining wall in the Tree’s prime; it felt blasphemous to touch it, but also oddly comforting at the same time. You instinctively moved to hold it, as though you were holding your mother’s hand—in a way, you were, as she had been in that loam at one point, and thus was part of the Tree. Maybe that’s why it felt so comforting, as blasphemous as it was to be touching the Tree.

You sat in silence, holding the Tree’s root, for an indistinguishable amount of time. It was the most at peace you’d felt in a very, very long time; no one watching you, nothing expected of you to do, no where to be, no one to meet.

As you realized how odd that was, the sense of peace began to fade. Everyone was expected to contribute, to have tasks, to report to someone. Were you dead?

The sound of a droplet falling from somewhere—the first sound you’d heard besides your own voice—stopped your line of thinking, and you looked up at the Tree proper.

Due to the low light, it was hard to see, and at first, the Tree looked as it did when you arrived—wait, when did you arrive here? How?—but upon closer inspection, there was something on the bark, moving, just barely glistening in the pale starlight. Your face went cold, and you pulled your hand back from the soil as you studied it—it was covered in blood. You quickly stood up from where you sat and stepped back, your breath hurried as you watched the improbable—what the fuck was going on?

Your senses shifted suddenly, and your hand burned, the searing pain familiar to being in the sub as it filled with blood. You looked down at your left hand—it looked as though you’d just pulled it out of the blood ocean, not the Tree’s soil; it dripped with rivulets of blood, the skin on your hand being eaten away by it the longer you looked, your own blood mixing with it.

Panicked, you tried to wipe it on your pants, but the damage had been done, and the skin revealed underneath was blistered or rotted away, just as it had been during your time in the sub. You swore as your brain registered the pain, but movement around you caught your attention.

Looking back up at the Tree, you saw that the soil had become saturated with the blood, which was threatening to overflow the Tree’s retaining wall. You stepped back further away from the Tree as the blood did overflow, and began spilling in that awful, viscous sounding way that it had when flooding into the sub.

Movement near the Tree’s trunk, something solid that blocked out the fading starlight behind it, caught your attention. A figure stepped out from behind the Tree, and trudged through the blood, seemingly unhindered by the thick fluid, even though it came up to the shape’s shins. As you stepped further back, the figure became clearer—it was the hallucination monster, the mutated you.

Instinctively, you reached for your knife, and, surprisingly, your hand landed on it’s familiar shape; in a practiced motion, you whipped it out into a ready position—wait, why was it surprising that you had your knife? You didn’t go anywhere without it. Though you continued to step away as the creature advanced on you, you felt much safer armed.

As the creature neared the retaining wall, you brought your knife up into a threatening position, but before it could try to step past the retaining wall, it’s forward movement halted, though it was obvious that the creature was struggling in an attempt to continue moving forward. You gawked at the scene before you as tree roots grew up and out of the blood, enveloping the creature, not unlike how the fleshy growths in the sub grew onto your hand and arm—wait, what? You looked down to see your left hand, the one that you had used to so tenderly caress the Tree’s soil, was gone—just like the missing arm on the creature, the mutated you.

Your brain fought itself to figure out what was current, what was true, but it kept getting drawn back to look at the monster. It was fighting the roots of the tree, reaching out with it’s one arm to threaten you, just like it had in your last nightmare.

Nightmare. You were dreaming.

The surgery. Margie had said that dreams were fucked up on anesthesia. Hoo boy was this a fucked up one, and your brain hurt to register that you were dreaming.

Were you actually dreaming?

NOW THAT THE LIGHT HAS SEEN YOU, IT WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU

That wasn’t the fish monster’s voice. That sounded… like your own, but… wrong. You stared panickedly at the you-monster. Was that The Light? That, thing you hadseen in that vision?

A switch flipped in your brain as you realized what the sentence it said meant. It was the cause of all this. It was wearing your skin, that it stole and mutated, to torment you. As long as it had a connection to you, it would never leave you be. A rage boiled up in your chest, and taking advantage of the Tree holding the monster in place, you charged up to where it was encased and drove your knife—your father’s prized possession—into it’s skull.

The horror stopped moving and went limp in the Tree’s roots. Breathing heavily, you stared at the limp corpse, just like you had all the others you’d forced the life out of. This one, so full of pain and anguish, seemed different than the others; there was no peace in it’s deathmask, though you weren’t sure if that was because it was an unnatural being with a sole purpose, or if the mutations of it’s face made it unable to make any expressions at all. It was a gruesome thing to look upon, and the more you stared, the more you saw yourself under the mutations.

Leaving the knife, you stepped back, registering the silence of the atrium once more. The blood had stopped flowing from the Tree, and not a single drop moved from where it rested. The Tree, glistening in the fading starlight from the drops of blood that still clung to it’s bark, stood in a gory reminder of what you were, who you have been—but there was a new feeling it gave you. You looked to where the you-monster was still restrained by the Tree’s roots—the Tree had saved you.

Your face scrunched up to cry. After all the atrocities you performed in It’s benefit, It repaid you.

It gave you the chance to have a second chance at life.

“Thank you,” you choked out, your voice echoing in the atrium.

“I love you. Take good care of me,” came that soft voice in your ear, the one that had only spoke a couple times previously.

You hadn't expected an answer. “What?” you asked reflexively.

You felt yourself holding something in your right hand. Lifting it up and opening your palm, you found the seed pendant, the seedling having grown even larger than it had been when it was returned to your apartment, it’s tiny branches splitting the glass further, it’s roots spreading further in search of soil.

“Go, go now, my Son… Leave this place, and don’t come back. There’s nothing left here for you. Your people are waiting for you.”

The brightness of the medical center was nearly blinding versus the Last Tree’s atrium, but it felt as though your eyes were mostly adjusted already to the light level. Disorientated, your brain registered Margie, Kerry, and Caleb standing around you, watching you with anticipation.

Your brain didn’t register what Margie said, just that zhe said something as you lifted your right hand to look for the pendant—it wasn't there. You looked around with confusion, vaguely recognizing the room you were in, but your thoughts were jumbled.

“Are you okay, Bro?” came Caleb’s voice.

His calling you by your shared title snapped your attention to him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Margie and Kerry give Caleb a curious look.

“What the fuck—” You didn’t know why you said that.

“Hey,” he moved to grab your hand and held it tightly but with gentleness—it was familiar, and you returned it reflexively. “You’re out of surgery, Kerry was able to take off the rest of that mutated tissue on your arm.” You watched him blankly, trying to get your brain to comprehend what he was saying. “You don’t have much left there, mostly just your shoulder, but based on some preliminary tests, you shouldn’t have any more nerve pain.”

The surgery. Your arm. You nodded, only somewhat comprehendingly.

“Do you see the tooth monster anywhere?” Kerry’s voice came.

The you-monster. At first, you looked around wildly to see if it was in the room anywhere, but then the dream came back to you. “No,” you said flatly. “I killed it.”

You caught Margie and Kerrys’ confused flinches, and that seemed to give you some more clarity of mind. You gripped Caleb’s hand tighter, using it as grounding yourself in reality. “You, were right, Margie, that is, some fucked up dreaming on anesthesia.” You looked directly at zer. “I… I don’t know if it was a dream, or, another hallucination, or, another vision, but.” You nodded without realizing why you were doing it. “I killed it. I had to. It was going to haunt me for the rest of my life if I didn’t. I’m.. not even sure if that will stop it.”

The three medics watched you with what you could interpret as concern. As you thought about what you just said, a disproportionately strong urge overtook you.

“I need to talk to Joseph—” you moved to get off the table, and all three medics jumped into action to stop you. “I need to talk to Joseph—vie can’t let anyone else go to that FUCKING MOON—”

“Simon, wait—“ Kerry pleaded, body blocking your chest with their weight.

“No, what you NEED to do is rest,” Margie said sternly, reaching across you to hook zer hands on your side opposite where zhe was standing.

“Simon, you’re not thinking straight, the anesthesia is fucking with you—“ Caleb growled, as from his position, he had the best angle to fight your center of gravity as you tried to get down.

“I NEED to talk to Joseph—“ you growled back, not even sure why you were fighting.

“Brother!” Caleb barked, getting your attention with his tone—it was familiar. You stopped fighting and snapped your eyes up to pay attention to him. “You are going to fucking stay right here and rest. Father’s orders!”

Something in your disorientated brain heeded his words, and you fell in line. “..Yes, sir,” you replied smally. Why did that work?

“Help me get him back on the table right,” Caleb grumbled to his fellow medics.

“What the fuck?” Margie asked, looking at Caleb as the three of them lifted you to reorientate you on the surface you were laying on. You dutifully stayed where they placed you, moving placidly as Kerry fussed with your pillow and blankets.

Caleb shook his head. “Not the time, Marg. I’ll explain later.” He looked pointedly at you. “You’re injured. You’re confused. You need rest. You are going to rest, or so help me, I’ll make you do it, you understand me, Brother?”

You nodded quietly.

Caleb looked to Margie and Kerry. “Hopefully he didn’t tear his stitches with his flailing. I’ll sit with him, make sure that he comes off the anesthesia correctly and without any more instances—I think I have just the thing to do it.”

“I want to know exactly what that was, later, Caleb,” Margie seemed overly harsh in zer words.

Caleb looked thoroughly reprimanded, but nodded. “I’ll message you. And I’ll call for you if I need assistance.”

Your consciousness flickered and faded watching Caleb for further instruction.

The light level was darker than you expected it to be when you woke up next, as was the comfort of the surface you were laying on. Memories came back to your brain in pieces: the vague recollection of being assisted onto the bed in your room in the medical center, Caleb reminding you of the surgery and to rest, a med refresh… They seemed out of order and strangely both clear and hazy, and as you lifted your hand to scrub your face in tiredness, you noticed Lea was sitting in the room, looking at a tablet.

Your movement caught her attention and she looked up at you. “Good evening, Simon, how’re you feeling?”

You weren’t awake enough to do inventory on yourself yet. “Where’s Caleb?” What was Lea doing here?

She gave a smile. “He’s off shift, hopefully heading to bed, if not already sleeping.’

Your brow furrowed. “Time is it?”

“Around 2230.” Something didn’t seem to be adding up in your brain, and she caught onto it. “Yeah, normally Margie is the night shift attendant, but because she came in early to assist with your surgery, I volunteered to take night shift.”

The surgery. Right. Still, your brain got stuck on Caleb for some reason. As you looked down to inspect the final result from the surgery, it came back to you and you quickly looked back to Lea. “Is, is Caleb okay? ...I think I got him into trouble..”

Her smile softened. “He’s fine. Margie was assigned here and started working with us after his Realization so zhe didn’t know he’s from Eden, and I don’t think zhe realized you were either, so zhe… thought he was just yelling at you, which of course is no way to handle a patient.” She chuckled. “From the briefing,” the way she said that word sounded more like she meant “gossip”, “I was given by both of them, Caleb told zer where you’re both from, and that you grew up together and that his outburst was how you both were raised to obey orders. And from both of their accounts, it seemed to work—the anesthesia really did a number on your comprehension, and that got you to calm down.

You nodded in agreement. “I can hardly remember anything since then, and yeah, I was fucked up. ...Is he in trouble?”

She shook her head. “Once Margie was informed about the situation, and saw the results, and that he was being truthful, he wasn't in any real reprimand. Zhe’s still upset at him, but… y’know, supervisors are going to be upset.” She watched you for a few moments. “From their reports, you seemed very insistent on needing to speak to Joseph. Do you remember what that was all about?”

The dream you had while under anesthesia hit you like a freighter. You pressed your hand to your face to try and get your composure back, your jaw tense trying not to tear up. After taking a shaky breath, you replied, if only to try and get your thoughts off the most emotional parts of it: “Yeah, uh. I had a. Fucked up dream while on anesthesia—Margie said it was possible, but—” Lea doesn’t know about the hallucination monster, you recalled. “Um…” You swallowed hard, trying to figure out how to tell her about it, especially if it, hopefully, wasn't going to be an issue any more. “You, know, I’m, taking anti-psychotics, I know you do, it’s. In my chart. Um. Something… followed me off that moon. We don’t… know what it is, but. The anti-psychotics seem to keep it at bay. It’s a hallucination—well, no one else can see it so it got called that, but, is also somehow, physical enough to have threatened my life.” She made a concerned noise. “It’s—it’s in my file, if you want to see. But. Margie and Kerry were afraid that, because anesthesia makes your dreams fucked up, that it would threaten me again, even on the anti-psychotic—that’s why Caleb was here, to assist. It, did, threaten me, in the dream. But I killed it. In the dream.” You moved your hand to look to her, and she was watching you with concern. “Something about that dream. Made me realize that if I didn’t, it was going to continue to stalk me. Some… dream logic, I dunno, made it make sense that, the hallucination monster was what tied the thing on the moon, to me. The hallucination monster is me… but, mutated, completely over taken by all this, anomalous growth. It stole my face, and used a mutated, fucked up version of me, to follow me here—it could do that to anyone… So, when I first woke up from that, it felt like I needed to tell Joseph, they cannot send anyone else back there…”

She was quiet as she digested that, thinking of something to say. “Sounds like you, should still tell vir that, but. Because it’s late, vie won't be accepting visitors of course.”

You nodded quietly at that.

“Are you okay? That seems like a pretty harrowing dream.”

You nodded slowly. “It was… a lot. But… it feels as though, it needed to happen. I was, really scared to go under right before the surgery, but, now it feels like I needed to experience that… and that killing that thing may have gotten rid of it for good.”

“Fingers crossed that’s true, then,” she said with a light tone. “You sound pretty lucid now though, how’s your head? How’s your pain?”

You took a deep sigh to take inventory of yourself now that you were more awake. “I feel, much better than earlier. Thinking about it, I definitely wasn't all here earlier; I think that’s why Caleb’s orders worked as well as they did… I was half back on Eden, from that dream… I.. think he might have realized that, actually.” You trailed off, sitting with the hazy memory of when you’d first woken up, trying to get it to be clearer in your head. “Um.” You looked to your left arm, and finally got to study it.

It was of course wrapped in plenty of bandaging, but even with the assumption of multiple millimeters of bandaging, possibly centimeters, there wasn't much left, just as Caleb had said when you woke up. Where you’d gotten used to at least 10cm of what remained of your left arm being there, it didn’t look like there was more than what most people could define as one’s shoulder. Out of morbid curiosity, you tried moving it—it was stiff because it was bandaged so tightly, but you did feel like you could move the shoulder socket, so they’d kept that much. It didn’t hurt beyond what you’d expect for just having surgery on it, but then you realized—it hurt.

You looked to Lea. “When was the last time I had nerve block refreshed?”

She looked to her tablet and tapped around on it some. “About 17 hours ago, so it’s very much worn off. And, you don’t seem to be in extraordinary amounts of nerve pain, so, preliminarily, I’d say the surgery was a success.” She gave you a smile.

You sighed in relief and let your eyes close. At least that was done and over with.

“Now, you do have a drain in the closure,” Lea said from within the darkness. “Kerry was able to close up the terminal end with your skin that was already there, but that tends to trap draining fluid from healing, so a drain was put in place to relieve that. When it looks like it’s full of fluid, let one of us know and we can show you how to empty it, okay? It might be me tonight, but if not, Caleb in the morning.”

You nodded quietly.

“Tired?” she asked.

You shook your head. “Just, relieved.” After all, you had been sleeping all day.

“Ready to be out of our hair?” she asked with mirth.

You chuckled. “I guess, that is a good question… Do you want to keep me anymore, then?”

“For the night, of course,” she said. “Observation for any physical issues with anesthesia, sprung leaks… The usual.” The way she said it made you chuckle more. “And of course, we’ll want to see you every other day for physical therapy. You’ve got a lot to relearn…” She trailed off and was quiet for a few moments. “Did you really grow up with Caleb? What a small world, even with our circumstances.”

You made a noncommittal noise and opened your eyes to look to her. “Sort of. We were both part of Eden’s special forces, and, yeah most of us were kids and raised together under the banner. If we were younger I might recognize him, but, we were in separate squadrons as adults. He’s still my Brother, always will be, though.”

Lea gave you a smile. “That’s gotta be really reassuring, knowing you’ve at least got someone here. When he got here, he was so lost. It took him well over a year to settle in, I felt so bad for him.”

You nodded. “It feels too coincidental, but. I’m really glad that coincidence happened.”

She shrugged. “Maybe Joseph planned it that way. When we got word you were incoming, and the condition you were in, we were all prepared for the worst; if vie knew how bad off you were, then setting you up with someone you knew might’ve been vir plan to help you rebound easier. Nothing’s worse than being in a new place, with unfamiliar, if not hostile, faces, when you’re already in a bad way.”

You gave her a look that you hoped was not accusatory, but questioned how she knew that was the exact way things felt.

“Caleb has confided in me over the years. We don’t get many Realized Edenites, and it sounds like the council spreads you all out across the Consolidation—if I had to guess, so you all can't conspire against the Council,” she said that with a sarcastic flair. “But, being in a foreign culture with no way to contact anyone from your original home sounds so awful, and it’s taken a toll on Caleb. He’s told me about his Brothers he was captured with, and how he’s the most personable of the lot of them, so it makes me sad thinking how lonely it must be for them, seeing how lonely he is. Eden sounds like a very lonely place, and at least you all seem to have had each other…”

You nodded. “I’m… learning just how lonely it was. When you’re in the midst of something, and don’t know any alternatives… That’s just how life is. It’s… so, so different here.” You looked at her pointedly. “Did, did you know I was from Eden, before today?”

She gave you a smile. “I recognized your tattoo, since I’ve seen Caleb’s. I was wondering when he was going to say something, the other day, since I know he saw it, but I also know that he’s done a lot of work converting to Consolidation beliefs since he was Realized, and hiding he’s from Eden. With Marg in the room, I should’ve known better.”

You sat with that, remembering how …sermonic Caleb’s words were when speaking about the Council. Once a Son, always a Brother, as he said… Still, it felt too coincidental that Joseph didn’t choose to send you to this station, with the several stations the COI had in it’s conglomerate, but it also didn’t make sense, especially agreeing with Lea’s assumption that the COI would choose to isolate Edenites from each other, why vie’d choose to let the two of you have contact. Her argument made sense, but, especially with Joseph knowing that you were the most dangerous of the Edenites they’d captured, (you had to be, right? They couldn’t get more dangerous than you.) why would vie choose to let you fraternize with one of your Brothers? “You are the most tempered Edenite I’ve had the pleasure of handling,” vir complement hung in your head. But, prior to actually meeting you on the transport, there was no way that vie would have known how personable you were, so that couldn’t have swayed vir decision… Maybe Caleb had something to do with it? Was Joseph Caleb’s liaison too? Did Joseph know how Caleb spoke of the Council? Did he want you two in contact perhaps to make you more biddable toward the Council, seeing one of your Brothers was?

You must have been lost in thought for longer than you realized, because eventually Lea spoke up: “Are you hungry?” her voice broke the silence. “I’m sure you’re starting to get used to the great meals we have on station, and it’ll be nothing near that quality, but I can get you something to eat.”

You had to digest her words for a second, broken out of your line of thought as you were, before you realized what she was asking. “Oh, sure.”

“I’ll be right back, then,” she chirped, moving to stand and headed out of the room, taking her tablet in tow.

As you watched her go, a creeping seed of doubt and contrariness took hold in the back of your mind. As soon as you realized it had, you shook your head, as if to knock it loose—you trusted your Brothers. Besides, whether Caleb had bought wholly into the COI’s beliefs or not, you were no better, being disillusioned with Eden’s teachings. You recognized it as Fathers’ teachings to be distrustful of the COI—yet, you realized there wasn’t a real good reason to be distrustful of them, not in your position, and not with the sheer leniency you’d seen the Council themselves display. You laying here was all the evidence you needed of that.

You sighed, and took a moment to pause and try to push away all the conspiratorial thoughts. Needing something else to fill the void, you looked around to see where your stuff was—as it was your room, your little tablet was still sitting on the side table, with your satchel on the floor beside it. You reached for the tablet—taking a second try at it after you realized how stiff you were from being in bed most of the day—and grabbed it, then stood it on it’s short end on your chest to carefully hold in a position you could type on it. You tapped over to Joseph’s message log—even though it was late, vie had told you you could message vir at any time—and began to type.

“I would like do two things with you tomorrow, if you are free; I would like to to give my official account of what happened on the blood moon, and I wish to schedule the rest of my integration classes as I think I’ll be well enough to do so within the normal timeframe. As well, I would like to officially take up your offer on being a consultant for Edenian matters.”

You read the message over several times, making sure it said exactly what you wanted it to, before sending the message.

You weren’t sure if vie would think you were capable of giving your official statement yet, but even if vie said no, it at least got you in the door and able to argue for not sending anyone else to that God-forsaken hellhole. The anesthetic-induced dream haunted you, the face of the hallucination monster, listless in the Tree’s roots, stuck in your mind’s eye like an image burnt into a screen. The Tree… The Seedling—

You tapped out of the message log with Joseph, and over to Caleb’s—hopefully this didn’t wake him.

“I need to talk to Alyx. Do you know when she’s in the Commons?”

Your leg bounced in nervousness and anticipation.

Three people, one being Joseph, sat in front of you at a long table shaped like a half-circle, with you sitting before them. Doctor Beckett sat a few meters beside and behind you, and David sat opposite the Doctor.

Joseph had accepted your bid to give an official statement of what happened on the blood moon, and had gathered the council members that were on station that day, and a few others located on other stations who had been free relayed in and were present through a live feed, their faces projected on large screens behind the physically present council members.

The weight of the situation didn’t truly sink in, until the elderly woman that sat in the center of the table began to speak: “The Council of the Consolidation of Iron meets today on 31/378 to record the official statement of Simon, Realization Completionist number 3877B, of the events that took place during Expedition 6 of AT-5, of which was his Realization.” She looked to you, her eyes piercing as though she was seeing right through you. “He is accompanied by David, council liaison to the study of AT-5, and Doctor Beckett, the psychiatric specialist who has evaluated his statement to be as psychiatrically sound as possible. We, the Council, understand that what we are about to hear goes against all known and established scientific facts, and are ready to receive and process his statement as fact, and accept it where evidence gathered supports it. Are you, Simon, ready and mentally sound to give your official statement to the Council, and recount the events of Expedition 6 of AT-5 to the best of your ability?”

You swallowed and took a steadying breath. “Yes.”

“Good man,” she complemented. “You are being observed by council members Umbra,” the person sitting beside her that you didn’t recognize nodded zir head, “Anseh,” she nodded, “Joseph,” vie nodded, “Eris,” the face on the left-most screen nodded, “Viktor,” the face on the center screen nodded, “and Xander,” the face on the right screen nodded as she finished. “On 1/378, you were retrieved from our correctional facilities by council-captain Ava, given your assignment, and escorted to the location of your Realization on AT-5, which occurred on 5/378. Can you tell us what your task was, as given to you by Ava?”

Dozens of emotions roiled up in your chest as you thought back to that first meeting, what she had described, and how immediately she had gone back on her word—but you swallowed them, letting out a steadying breath. “Ava met with me, in my cell, and said I had been picked for Realization, saying that what was expected of me, was to go down in a submarine, in an ocean of blood, and that there were some locations of interest that the COI wanted pictures of. The way she described it, I was to go down, get the pictures, and be brought up, Realization complete.”

Probably not the best choice in wording, but you weren’t controlling your emotions nearly as well as you had hoped to. You could hear the frustration and anger in your own voice, but it was hard to control. The council members alternated taking notes on tablets in front of them as you spoke.

“It sounds as though that was not entirely the case,” the council member introduced as Umbra spoke up.

"Correct,” you restrained yourself to saying.

“How did this expectation differ from your experience?” the council member introduced as Xander asked.

You nodded, and gathered as much of the beginning of the expedition into a chronological timeline in your head before replying. “I found, several of the indicated points of interest, taking pictures of each, documenting what was found there, until I found something unexpected. Something alive. At—at first it showed up as a skeleton, on the camera… But then it attacked the sub.”

Joseph looked to David. “David, could you please provide Simon with your tablet, with the folder of the photos that he took opened, please.”

David nodded, and tapped furiously on his over-sized tablet, then stood and brought it over to you, gesturing for you to take it. You did so, setting it in your lap, and he went to sit again.

“Could you please open the photo in question?” Joseph asked you. It stood out in the timeline so it wasn’t hard to find, and tapping on it enlarged it. “On the councilors’ screens should be a view of this photo.” Several of the councilors nodded confirmation. “You may continue, Simon,” Joseph said gently. “Tell us more about the attack.”

Reflexively, you nodded. “Um. For, several minutes, it bashed the sub this way and that, tossing me around, until the tow ship began to reel in the sub, afraid that I’d done damage to it during exploration. Due to the depth, I’d had trouble—the entire expedition—keeping in contact with the ship, and, it wasn’t until they did that, to check on the sub, that, they got a download of the photos I’d taken, and Ava opted to reel me in completely, seeing that I’d photographed a skeleton.” You paused at the memory, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “I thought I was done. That was the deal. Go down, take pictures, come back up, be done. Getting attacked, was not in the briefing—that there was anything living, was not in the briefing.”

Several council members nodded at that. “I see where the communication was not as robust as we would have hoped,” Xander said. “You don’t sound finished though, please, continue.”

You watched each one carefully, looking for scrutiny in their expressions—these were the people who knew and saw you as you truly were: a convict, a mass-murderer. “While there may be individuals within the council that may continue to hold personal issue with you for your actions, that you passed your Realization is, in theory, enough to stay their hand in passing any further judgment on you.” Joseph’s voice replayed in your head. How could you trust that? You’d just have to get a better grasp on your emotions. C’mon, Simon, you can do it.

“I was. Informed. That, my assignment had changed,” you said, gathering strength in your voice against the emotions of the memory. “Ava wanted me to get a sample of the skeleton. She had a,” you shook your head, “sample, taker, of some sort, welded onto the front of the sub, and informed me I was to ram the sampler into the skeleton, at full speed.” As you took a breath to steady yourself, you saw several council members come to the conclusion you desperately wanted to say, but was biting back the words, lest they use your emotions against you—you were in a cobbled-together submarine, at the bottom of an ocean of blood, and expected to put tons of pressure on your life vessel. You could see on the others’ faces, that they also understood this, but didn’t care—you were their disposable asset, that was the point, and likely still were considered that, in their mind. Still, you continued, trying to reign in the emotional aspect, and give them the facts—people in power loved facts. “Despite my protests that this is not what I was tasked to do, I was informed that if they took the time to send someone else, they’d lose the skeleton, so Ava had me sent back down.”

“So, not only did you fulfill your stated assignment, but you were expected to go above and beyond,” Anseh said, her voice gentler than when she had announced the beginning of the meeting.

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Were, at any point, you given an official documentation of the mission briefing, or had you only received Ava’s word of what your mission was to be?” Viktor spoke up.

“No, I was only given Ava’s word,” you said resolutely.

“David, is this true?” Anseh turned to look to him, prompting the other council members to do the same.

“To my best knowledge, yes. I don’t recall Ava giving him neither a tablet nor a contract with his Realization’s assignment,” he said pointedly. His words to you in the sub came to the forefront of your mind; “Honestly, if I were in charge, you would know more.”

“Do you, David, believe that Ava was intentionally being dishonest or hiding information from Simon about his task?” Xander asked.

He mulled that over. “Yes, in a sense of the concept.”

“Why do you say that?” Anseh asked him.

“She absolutely could have done a better job of informing him, and I think if she had, things would have gone much smoother. But, I don’t know what her orders were, I’m not her, so I can't speak on whether it was intentional,” he said pointedly.

“On behalf of the Council, I would like to apologize to you, Simon,” Anseh said, looking back to you. Brief looks of disgust crossed Umbra, Eris, and Viktors’ faces before they reigned them in. Apparently, Anseh didn’t speak for them. “This is not how we strive to conduct ourselves and our people. Everyone, even an Edenite with your wrongdoings stacked against you, is expected to be given a full outline of what is expected of them during theirRealization.”

You realized that no one had mentioned the incident in the hangar yet. Was David keeping quiet to cover his ass? Did the council even know? Would it have even happened if you knew what your expectations had been? You couldn’t let that thought go: “What… What was the official assignment?”

Several of the council members tapped through their tablets; Viktor got there first: “In summary, the objective is as follows: report to and document points of interest as indicated by surface scans of AT-5. If, you had been given the official report, it would have been clearer that the assumedly extraneous assignment was actually included in your expectation.”

That one’s out to get you. “The skeleton was not at coordinates provided to me by the mission map,” you said steadily, doing your damnedest to keep emotion out of your voice. “I only took the picture of it because it pinged the sub’s proximity alert, where the map indicated there wasn't an obstacle.”

A scornful look crossed Victor’s eyes. The other council members’ eyes ranged between surprise and confusion.

“To confirm, the skeleton was not an original point of interest?” Xander asked.

You nodded. “Before it attacked me, I tried asking the tow ship what I was supposed to do if I found something not on the map, but, I couldn’t get in touch with them, as I mentioned earlier.”

Four of the councilors ducked their heads to type on their tablets.

“Could you clear up a bit of confusion in my timeline,” Joseph spoke up. “You said, you found a creature that you at first assumed was a skeleton, and that the creature then attacked you. But you were sent down to take a sample of a skeleton?”

You nodded. “It wasn’t until after the expedition that I realized, the skeleton was a creature, and that it was what attacked me. None of us seemed to realize this at the time.”

“Thank you for that clarification,” vie said politely. “So you were asked to go above and beyond your original expectation; I’m so sorry, Simon. I can only imagine how terrifying that was. What happened after you were requested to go back down?”

You took a steadying breath at Joseph’s apology, trying to reign in the emotion. “Um. That’s when the… weird stuff, began. I…” How did you want to describe the hallucinations? It didn’t matter how it was logged into the record that the council knew you were going to say some insane shit, it was a whole other experience to actually try to make it sound real. “I first encountered the tooth monster, at this point. It, I later realized, is a visage of me, but, mutated, in the way the blood ocean mutates things. It, disappeared around the corner of the wall, where the computer was tucked behind, and led me to realizing the computer was even there. Trying to… see where the creature could disappear to, I used the camera’s display to light up the alcove and noticed that… the symbol of Eden was scratched on an access hatch of the computer. Opening the hatch, I found one of my Brothers’ seed pendants, and a note that said “cross the wires”. Confused, as Ava had insisted that I was the first one down in the ocean,” you said pointedly, looking to each of the council members briefly, “but trusting my Brother, I did so, which activated the computer. It, had an audio message from him logged to play upon startup but, nothing else. I, I promise that’s important later.”

The scrutinous members of the council watched you carefully, while the others nodded for you to continue.

“After that, I began my task again. Returning to where I was when I found the skeleton, I turned the sub 360 degrees, but the skeleton, which we had assumed at this point was just a skeleton, was gone. I began looking for it, and, eventually found it again, meters away. Well. I found… something.” You took a steadying breath, and looked to the tablet in your lap. Scrolling through the timeline, you came to the first of the photos, the ones that you had known looked odd in the first place. “This, looks different than the one I took before they brought me up. I even pointed out, that it looked wrong. But, I was instructed to take a sample and… I did,” you flipped to the next picture, after you had rammed the skull, and the skull’s jaw bone showed damage. “But… I realized after the expedition… That the skull, was bait.”

You flipped to the next photo, which showed the fish monster looming behind the skull.

Another steadying breath as the council watched you. “The tow ship tried to reel me in, but, what I’ve been calling the fish monster, must have grabbed ahold of the sub, and was threatening to pull the tow ship down. David mentioning cutting the tow line but,” you looked to him. “I don’t know if it was them or the fish that broke it.”

“We… didn’t have time to. It broke it,” he responded.

You nodded quietly. “It… tossed me around like a ragdoll in there. Probably where I got all the concussions. I have… No idea how long I was out for, but I woke later in darkness. The… the sub had been knocked offline. Um… Sparks, in the crawlspace led me to realize there was a crawlspace, and uh. I managed to find the provision box, which allowed me to open the crawlspace and reactivate the sub.” Another steadying breath. “The… porthole shielding of the sub had lowered in the restart, and… nearly broke the porthole glass, which… the fish monster was staring at me through.”

You looked to each of the councilors independently, gauging their expressions as you knew your story got weirder. “I found myself off the map that the mission gave me, in some sort of cave system. As I navigated my way around blindly, using the proximity alert, the camera, and a map I made myself, I caught several photos of the fish monster stalking me. Several photos of… things I can't even explain. Alien shit.”

“Could you, show us the photos of “alien shit”?” a new voice, Eris, spoke up.

You nodded and minimized the photo currently pulled up on the tablet—it would be easier to find it in the slew of thumbnails, considering the sheer amount of photos you had taken in those days being down there. The first photo of alien shit you found was what appeared to be a wall with windows cut out of it. You tapped on it to blow it up and several council members stared intently at it. “This is one instance,” you mentioned, letting them study it for a bit before tapping out of that one, and moving on to the one that you had discussed with David, the corridor. “This, is the more weird one… After the expedition, I.. thought about it and, think this might look like a doorway, or something.” The council members muttered amongst themselves. “At the time, I was, too scared and determined to get out, but, there’s a few picture of this at least, as I, tried to figure out what the fuck I was looking at."

“Thank you for humoring my curiosity,” Eris said with a slightly curt tone in her voice.

You nodded, noting, but ultimately ignoring, her tone. “According to the tow ship crew, I was down there for days… I lost time… I’m not sure if I slept… I’m not even sure how I survived. But… Eventually, I… found another sub, a wreckage. Thanks to the designation painted on the side, I could tell that it was the SM-8. It.. looked, as though it’d been blown open from the inside, and… That was when I truly knew I wasn't the first one down there; which is also when I knew Ava had lied to me, in telling me that I was.” You watched the council members for their reactions—go on, tell you that it “wasn't in the COI’s interest to lie to you”, because an ignorant sucker was easier to handle than one who knew the odds. When none of them made any overt moves to say anything, you swallowed and continued. “The… computer, that I’d turned on, days ago, at this point, began trying to connect to the SM-8’s black box. It gave me an error, a, uh… “insufficient privileges”. I tried a couple passwords, but… It was half-hearted bullshit, and I ended up keeping on trying to find my way out, without the information. Eventually… I managed to find my way out… immediately where I’d begun. The…” you trailed off and got lost in thought for a second, then said aloud what you’d realized; “the fish monster had tried to show me the way out… Figures,” you sighed.

Then another thought occurred to you. “Or, had been waiting in another trap… Because, it was while I was heading back onto the map the mission gave me, that it intercepted me… Well, that’s the wrong word. It started speaking to me… Truth be told, I didn’t know it was the fish monster at that moment. I—I thought I was hallucinating at that point. It… spoke to me as though it were another sub, as though I had picked up their radio signal, folks left behind on a previous expedition… Which, I realized later, it was.” You looked to each of the council members as you gathered your thoughts, trying to make heads or tails of the timeline in your head. “The voice claimed, that… “everything we were looking for is down here” and… claimed to know what caused the Quiet Rapture—“or, a fragment of it, at least”. It... seemed to fight itself, saying it was too dangerous, but… It also wanted so badly, to show it to me… It gave me a set of coordinates, to The Light.”

You paused, for much longer than you intended to, as you fell into the memory of the conversation on the way to those coordinates.

“Simon?” you hardly registered the sound of someone saying your name reaching your ears.

“An ignorant God sees a sliver of our universe through a pinhole and thinks it understands all that is and all that will be. And it will. Because a god makes sense of what it sees, despite what it should be. The Light, it Illuminates, and it Blinds. It thinks, and therefore, we are.” How the hell did you remember that? You looked pointedly at each of the council members, taking in their uncertain expressions. “It said that to me. It… didn’t make sense before, and it doesn’t now, not really, but. It makes a bit more sense, I guess, after I’ve had time to really.. think about what happened.” You broke your attempt to stare them down to look down at the tablet in your lap. Tapping off the current image, you scrolled through the thumbnails to the photo that David had brought up when you’d talked about this last—tapping on it, it blew up big. “The Light… When I arrived at the coordinates, I had a ….massive hallucination, or what, some folks have thought may actually have been a vision.”

You took a steadying breath. “Suddenly, I wasn't in the sub anymore. I was stared down by an enormous eye in a dark sky, standing up to my waist in the blood ocean, covered in it. There was… something about seeing and being seen. My Brother’s seed pendant rooting me in place…” You shook your head. "The… the fish monster… said it gave them answers but,” you shook your head. “I don’t know, I only have more questions… I didn’t learn anything from it. All I know is, having seen it, makes me feel as though something bound itself to me. Followed me. Here. The… the tooth monster, the… me-monster. I realized that… Whatever that being was, a god, maybe, based on the fish monster’s words? It… stole my face, made a… mutated me to haunt me with, and… used it as a connection to me.” You looked to Joseph. “We learned, after I was retrieved… that the fish-monster was made up of the researchers of the SM-8.. and some other people. It.. subsumed those it killed, “we are one… in the blood.” But it didn’t get me, so it’s stalked me, ever since…”

The councilors watched you with an array of horror, disbelief, and disturbed skepticism.

“I only recently realized the connection… And I wanted to do this, today, to make sure that no one else got sent to that fucking moon, to be mutated, or cursed or… whatever,” you said, your voice unsteady.

“I understand that this is difficult,” Anseh said gently. “But, please. Let’s not skip around. What happened after the vision?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” you said softly, and were quiet for several moments, trying to reign in your emotions. It was getting harder and harder the weirder the memories got. “Um. Finding myself, back on the sub, I… encountered the me-monster again, which, supports my theory… But, it was also at this time that… I got back into contact with the tow ship. I don’t know how. My theory is… the… fish-monster, bumped me around but, I don’t know for certain. That’s also when… I was told that Ava had been given orders to “hold and observe”. That, I was being left down there to die.”

Your voice broke, and you looked pointedly at each of the council members—the ones who made that call.

Not a one said a thing, though several had the thought to at least look ashamed of the decision.

Swallowing hard, you organized your thoughts, and continued. “It was during that conversation that, I mentioned to Ava, that I had seen the SM-8. She made the call, to retrieve me, against orders, if I could go back and get the black box files from the SM-8. She gave me her credentials to put into the computer, she demanded the SM-14 be geared up to retrieve me, and I made my way back to the SM-8.

“The two computers synced, and the computer in my sub began auto playing a voice log from the SM-8’s crew… On it, I heard the voice that had been talking to me, the one that became the fish-monster. It… talked about how… this ocean, was, different from the rest. That, they thought that, food, could be synthesized from it, but, they didn’t think that it should. That, the blood is human. The,” you shook your head, “they stated the coordinates of The Light. And, confirmed they learned what caused the Quiet Rapture.

“Then, things got weirder. The sub… started getting growths inside. Filling with blood. I got back in contact with Ava—she was being hunted.”

Your gaze went distant as it got harder, emotionally, to remember. “She was pleading with me to get the black box from my sub. The fish-monster taunted me, in that same voice as was on the SM-8’s recording, saying it was a pity Ava needed to die, and, it demanded I leave the black box, let the information be destroyed… That, it couldn’t allow the information from the SM-8 to get to the surface. I heard it kill her over the radio. My body was already beginning to fall apart from the blood mutations… But I accepted that… at least the last thing I could do was get that information where it needed to go.”

Your face screwed up at the memory, and you fought tears, though you didn’t manage to wholly win the fight. “I—” your voice broke, and you swallowed hard to clear it. “The blood began filling the sub quicker, and I. Fought through it, and retrieved the black box from the crawlspace, swimming in the shit. I… managed to get it out of the crawlspace and… found the life preserver, floating around in the blood. St...Strapping it to the black box, I figured that, no matter what happened, at least then, it had a chance of making it’s way to the surface…”

You looked to the council members, not sure what your face looked like. Several of them watched with restrained horror, others desperately trying not to meet your gaze.

“A bump to the sub knocked me off balance, and I caught myself on one of the pipes of the sub, with my left hand. The sub had, overgrown with this fleshy mutation shit, which, grew up my arm, and while attempting to free myself, it…” You looked to the floor, and gestured with your remaining hand at where your left arm should have been. “How do I, even begin to describe what it’s like to tear your own arm off? Because a… alien mutant blood thing, mutated you, enough that it’s no longer truly yours?”

You were quiet for a few moments, allowing your tears to dry, and for that to sink into everyone’s heads. “That’s when I knew I was a deadman. …But, that was, also when I heard an enormous clunk, on the roof of the sub. The… tow ship had been trawling for the SM-14, and Ava, and hooked me on accident. ...Now you have me, instead of Ava.”

“Thank you, for telling us this, Simon,” Anseh folded her hands in front of her face in an almost praying motion. “I, we, can tell how difficult that was for you to recount, and it’s quite obvious to all of us that, what you were asked to do, was far, far and above that what we normally ask any of our Realization candidates to do. Do not let me understate how grateful we are to you for your actions, and apologies are not enough to ever repay what you have done, what you have sacrificed.”

“Consider this, your debt for Filament Station, repaid,” Viktor spoke up, his snide tone thinly veiled.

Anseh shot a tablet in front of her a dark look, moved a hand to tap on it, and the screen that was displaying Viktor’s face went blank. “Please, do not take this sorely. We understand that we have made poor decisions, and that your plight has opened our eyes to the harm that we have caused others in our decisions. We will forever be in your debt for the harm our decisions have caused you—the dead feel no pain, but the living have all that much more to suffer.”

Her words brought fresh tears to your eyes, and you let them fall.

“But do understand that, Viktor does have a point, as poorly as he worded it. Beyond your Realization fitting you within our ranks, your selfless actions within the SM-13 has granted us a great deal of valuable information, and that is something that we cannot forget was your doing. You located the SM-8 research vessel, you offered to go back to retrieve it’s data, and most crucially, you chose to, against all odds, fight for those who had left you to die. You are a truly astounding person, Simon, and one we are happy to have within the Consolidation. I’m truly sorry that the path to you coming to us was so fraught with conflict and strife, but, I think I can speak for the council that we are glad you are with us now,” Anseh gave you a sincere smile. Joseph and Xander did as well, while Umbra and Eris gave you humble nods. Anseh moved to tap one of the tablets in front of her, then returned her hands to their folded position. “Now, as that was your official statement, I have ended the recording for our records. Eris, Xander, you may disconnect or stay with us for consultation on further business.”

“Thank you,” Eris said almost curtly, and disconnected, the screen that was displaying her face going blank.

Xander nodded, but stayed connected.

“Looking toward the future,” Joseph said with an almost proud tone, “you had agreed to take me up on my offering to be our consultant for Edenian matters. Now that you have met more of the council, is this something that you are still interested in?”

You lifted your hand to wipe tears from your eyes and cheeks. You nodded quietly. “If—… I’ve never… understood why Eden and the COI can't just, trade. How, the, animosity started between us… If I can keep my Brothers from harming others, I want to. I want to, not let another Filament Station happen.”

“Good lad,” Xander complemented, almost quietly enough that you didn’t catch it.

“Understand that, as a consultant to the council, you may be contacted at any time of the wake or sleep cycle, from any of the council on any vessel within the Consolidation. Is that agreeable?” Umbra spoke up.

You nodded, giving an affirmative noise. You cleared your throat of tears. “It’s, familiar work.”

“Unofficially,” Joseph started, almost uncertainly, “Would you be… willing to share with us, what happened, with Filament Station?”

Your face went cold, and you looked between the remaining councilors. The open wound of the event stung. You sat with your thoughts for a second. “Can, I, give it officially?”

The councilors looked to one another before looking back to you. “If that is something you are willing to do. We can't imagine how hard it was to recount the events of your Realization, but to share another traumatizing event so soon after?” Anseh asked.

You glanced to Doctor Beckett, who watched you with good-hearted concern. You turned back to the councilors. “Filament Station… has felt like an open wound for almost three years,” you said, trying your damnedest to keep your voice steady and the tears out of it. “I want to give the statement, not to… set the story straight but, as an apology to… the 62 innocents who lost their lives that day. No matter what was on that black box that can make others absolve me of my sins, it will never bring those people back.”

The councilors nodded, even Umbra. Anseh looked to her fellow councilors. “Does everyone have the time for another hearing?”

Umbra lifted a tablet to tap around on, and Xander’s eyes flicked away from the camera. In time, they, and Joseph, made affirming motions.

“Before that,” David spoke up, and you reflexively looked to watch him speak, “If I may ask of the Council… Will Simon be kept apprised of the discoveries that he made, and made possible, on AT-5?”

You looked back to the councilors. Several of them made the same expression that Joseph had before; no but you should be.

“After all, it’s all a fucked up tangle of what is actually relevant to his recovery, and being a primary witness to it, as much information as he gave during his official statement, a lot happened on that boat. He may know more and can give more context to the findings, if he’s kept in the know,” David said quite plainly.

“Doctor Beckett… Do you believe that Simon is mentally well enough to handle such a position?” Joseph asked, prompting you to look to the Doctor.

He nodded. “Considering the circumstances surrounding some of the facts of his case, I believe he is fully mentally sound, but, to conventional science, it wouldn’t seem that way,” he stated. “Traumatized, certainly, a bit compromised, surely, but in full psychosis? Not at all.”

“Do you believe that such a position would interact poorly with his trauma?” Umbra asked skeptically.

“I would ask that of David, actually.” That prompted you to look to David, who gave the Doctor a questioning look. The Doctor continued; “As the one who spent the most time in contact with him on AT-5, of those of us present, including the incident of the fish-monster attacking the tow ship, how would you rate his ability to withstand speaking of and learning more information about the situation at AT-5?”

David looked to mull that over. “I think. I think he’s a stubborn asshole who can get shit done even if he’s scared.” He looked to you. “We wouldn't have the SM-8’s information if he wasn't able to handle it.” He nodded to you, and you nodded back, before looking to the councilors.

“What say you, Simon? Do you want to be done with it and put it in your past, or do you want to be kept apprised of the information?” Anseh asked.

You watched her quietly, studying her expression—it was hard to read, and you assumed that was due to her being a career politician. You nodded before adding: “I would, yes. It feels like… unfinished business. Maybe that’s because it’s literally been haunting me, but also maybe because… it left me with so many questions.”

She nodded at that. “We cannot guarantee that you will have access to all of the information. But we recognize that you are in a unique position to give us understanding of the information, and that is something we value.”

You nodded to that.

“While we are on this topic, you had shared your fears earlier that we would choose to send anyone else back to AT-5,” Anseh began. “It is, unfortunately, too early to say for certain. However, we understand the gravity of the situation, especially upon hearing your statement. I think I can speak for the council as a whole, that any further incursions to AT-5 will be made only with the most utmost of care and need.”

“And, of sending any other poor fuckers down into the blood ocean?” Your voice wasn't as steady or as emotionless as you’d hoped.

The councilors watched you carefully.

“We have spent a lot of resources and people, in attempt to study the properties of the blood ocean,” Anseh’s voice became sharp, and there was a tension in the air between you—it felt as though the two of you were staring each other down with knives. “It is not a decision we’ve made lightly, and, especially with you sitting before us, reminding us of the ways we have failed our people, one we do not enjoy. Understand that if we deem it necessary for someone else to go down in your wake, we will have a much better understanding of how to bring them home safely.”

You didn’t like that answer, and your face must have said it.

“Judging by the sheer amount of data that has been retrieved from both your expedition and the SM-8’s black box, it’s exceedingly unlikely that sending more folks into unparalleled danger will be necessary,” Xander spoke up. “Now that we have a better understanding of what kind of information there is, we can better tailor any future expeditions to target the exact information we’re after—if further expeditions are even required.”

You set your jaw as he spoke, but nodded just a bit.

“If it would ease your concern,” Umbra began, “would you wish to be a consultant on any further expeditions to AT-5? After all, as someone with first-hand knowledge, it would be a tremendous help to have a guide with expertise. Especially, now that Ava is no longer with us.”

Your brows furrowed. “What does that mean…?”

The councilors watched you for several moments. “Did Ava not tell you that she had been on an expedition of AT-5 herself?” Umbraasked.

Surprise and anger crossed your face. Despite the shock and anger, it made more sense now, remembering Ava had said yes, when you asked if anyone had successfully returned from the blood ocean.

The councilors looked to David. “How little was Simon informed of his task?” Joseph asked of him.

He was quiet for several long moments. “Not much,” he eventually said.

“Unacceptable. I want a chat with you later,” Anseh said, her voice still sharp. David nodded quietly to that. She looked back to you, and she reigned in her tone when she spoke again, her voice softer, as it had been before, “What of Umbra’s question, Simon?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and looked to the floor. “I don’t know. I want to help, especially to not let anyone else have to go through what I did but…” You couldn’t keep a tear from escaping your eye.

“Think about it. Xander is correct—at the moment, it looks extremely unlikely that we will ever have to embark on another mission to AT-5, and especially not to the extent of sending anyone under the ocean again. But there may come a discovery that we simply cannot avoid going back to investigate on further,” Anseh said. “And knowing that the trauma is so fresh, time away and working through it with Doctor Beckett may give you fortitude to give an answer with certainty in the future.”

You nodded quietly and wiped at your eyes.

“Are you still willing to give your statement about Filament Station?” she prompted.

You took a deep breath and nodded.

Anseh nodded in return, then looked to David. “You are dismissed, sir, thank you for sitting on the previous docket.”

You’d almost forgotten he was present. As he stood, you moved to pick up his over-sized tablet off your lap, and held it out to him to take. As he did so, he gave you a polite nod. “Take it easy,” he said to you casually in parting, and he gave the councilors a polite nod before taking his leave.

As he left, the council members silently tapped around on their tablets, leaving a hanging silence that was almost awkward. After a few minutes passed, Anseh looked to her fellow councilors, and asked, “Ready then?” Once she had received their nods, she moved to tap on one of the tablets in front of her. “The Council of the Consolidation of Iron meets today on 31/378 to record the official statement of Simon, Realization Completionist number 3877B, of the events that took place prior and during the siege of Filament Station, which led to it’s destruction and his apprehension. He is accompanied by Doctor Beckett, the psychiatric specialist who has evaluated him to be as psychiatrically sound as possible for this statement. Are you, Simon, ready and mentally sound to give your official statement to the Council, and recount the events that led up to the destruction of Filament Station to the best of your ability?”

The repeated name of the station made you wince, and you tried desperately to focus on not letting it get to you. You were here to apologize, you can do this. You nodded. “Yes.”

“Good man,” she complemented, just as she had earlier, then continued; “You are being observed by council members Umbra,” ze nodded zir head, “Anseh,” she nodded, “Joseph,” vie nodded, “and Xander,” he nodded as she finished. She took a moment to reference something on one of her tablets. “On 245/375, the Filament Station security detachment responded to emergency alerts of fire and hull breach on Filament Station proper. By the time the detachment was able to arrive to the station proper, catastrophic damage and loss of life had been sustained by the station, and the detachment sent out an SOS beacon to Damsel Station and the Iridescent Transport Freighter, as well as an emergency beacon to the remainder of the Consolidation.” She looked to you, repeating that piercing gaze that she directed at you before. Your face went cold, and paired with the anxiety hearing the station’s name instilled in you, it was feeling harder and harder to be brave in front of the council. “Following these distress signals, the security detachment picked up scans of a personnel transport ship that did not have a Consolidation frequency leaving the immediate vicinity of the wreckage. The security detachment hailed the ship, demanding it’s surrender or be fired upon. Surrender was chosen, and the ship and it’s pilot were taken into Consolidation custody. Do these events, on your part, line up with your experience?”

You took a deep, shaky breath. “Yes,” you said, your voice not nearly as strong as you’d hoped. You were suddenly extremely glad that Eris had left and Viktor had been forcibly disconnected, as remembering that Umbra was not the most receptive to you weighed on your consciousness—not that, there wasn’t still a fear reaction of the three that had seemed at least receptive of hearing you out without further judgment.

“We have prior testimony of yours, as spoken to Joseph, that you were one of the Edenians that had the power to plan this sort of attack; would you please walk us through your credentials within Eden’s leadership, and how this plan to attack a Consolidation station came about?” Anseh asked.

It was one thing to tell Joseph, just one person, about who you were to Eden, but it was another to go on record doing so—originally, you’d realized that, but not the weight of it. It was hitting you much harder than you realized it would. You took another steadying breath, and closed your eyes for several moments to put things in some semblance of a comprehensible order before speaking. “Eden has a special task force called the Sons of Eden, or Sons of the Father, or, Brothers of Eden. I… was a Son, and a well regarded one; we were split into 4-man squadrons, each with a final decision maker, you could call a leader, but all Brothers have the ability to make decisions and have them stick. My words held more weight, within my squadron, my Brothers’ squadrons, and with Eden’s leader, Father, himself.” You took a steadying breath. “The Sons’ duties are whatever Father need them to be: security, perimeter patrol, salvage… the list goes on.” You chewed on your cheek as you considered how to say the next part, but decided ultimately that just coming out with it would be the easiest. “Salvage, was a common request—find a stray COI ship to pillage and take what we could, or concoct long-term plans to hit COI stations.”

The council watched you with unease, and you figured it was just as hard for them to hear it as it was for you to say. Umbra spoke up first of the lot of them; “How many of these missions had you partaken in planning?”

You shook your head, unsure, and took several moments to think. “80% of them? I… being Father’s eyes and ears, was more often a liaison than an active planner, but often Brothers would ask my expertise or advice. I personally planned about 30% of successful missions, usually of larger stations. I… do want to state, only about 60% of our larger plans were ever enacted.”

You could see Joseph and Xander doing math in their head, probably trying to think of how many attacks on COI stations had happened over the years. Anseh had moved to interlace her fingers in front of her face, and she watched you carefully.

“Could you speak more about planning the attack on Filament Station?” Umbra followed up, looking up from where ze were taking notes on zir tablet.

You had to set your jaw to keep it from trembling. You used it as a moment to think, to put things in chronological order in your head. “It was.” You paused, looking for the words. “It was supposed to be a supply run. These were always classified internally as a hit-and-run, no casualties.” You looked to the councilors with a pleading look. “In my younger years, I remember the these being well planned, with schematics, well -documented target points, and entrance and exit plans for every Brother involved. The plan this squadron of my Brothers brought to me was shoddy—they’d been getting sloppier every year, more desperate. What they brought to me included leeway for casualties; I demanded no casualties. Just like we always planned. The plan was grudgingly rearranged—it was set into place that we would set explosive charges, nothing more powerful than a firecracker, at locations that would cause the least damage: strong bulkheads, central foyers, as a distraction, so we could get in, get what we wanted, and get out.” You shook your head. “I was called soft, losing my touch, but… I was. So tired of the violence. I am now, still. I never wanted anyone to get hurt.”

“What changed in the plan?” Xander spoke up.

You took a moment before you shook your head. “I only have suspicions. I don’t actually know. I suspect that my Brothers had a second, concurrent plan that they didn’t share with my squadron, probably their original plan, because they knew I’d change it, and my squadron would follow the new one.” You grit your teeth at remembering your squadron brothers. You’d buried their memory along with Filament Station almost 3 years ago, and it was getting harder by remembering them.

“Could you walk us through what happened that day?” Anseh finally asked.

You took a shaky breath to steady yourself. “We… Left in two ships, our two squadrons. We arrived during the sleep cycle, at two different maintenance shafts in order to spread out and not be noticed as quickly. I stayed with my squadron’s ship, and hacked into the station’s comms connection to extend our comms’ range—”

“You are capable of hacking our communications frequencies?” Umbra asked suddenly, zir voice sharp and angry.

You froze, hardly breathing. Oh,fuck. “Yes,” you breathed.

“Umbra,” Anseh growled as ze moved to stand. “Please, regain your composure.”

Umbra settled uneasily back into zir seat, zir eyes burning upon you. You shrunk in your seat, and noticed Joseph taking notes on vir tablet, and presumably Xander doing the same as his eyes were turned to below the screen.

“Um,” you stuttered. “It’s—It’s a skill only two other Brothers that I know of have, and they’re not as good at it as I am, which is why my presence was requested on so many larger plans,” you offered placatingly.

There was a collective inbreath between the councilors, and all but Umbra nodded at your words. “Last you knew, were these Brothers of yours still alive?” Umbra asked sharply.

You nodded.

“Anseh—” Umbra hissed.

“Later, Umbra.” She whispered harshly, and if the room weren’t as tense as it was from the realization, you probably wouldn’t have ever heard their exchange.

“I suppose we must remain thankful that this was not utilized in a more destructive manner,” Joseph spoke up, vir voice polite.

Anseh nodded at that. “Please, Simon, continue.”

“Um…” you said shakily. “The, rest of my squadron fanned out to their positions, that being ready to infiltrate storages for the provisions we were after, as was according to the revised plan we were following. I… should have known better than to let the other squadron be the ones to place the distraction explosives, but… hindsight, and all that. But,” your voice wavered. “My squadron checked in, in the amount of time that I expected both squadrons to do so. The second squadron reported in over a minute later—I found this suspicious, but not enough to call off the plan.

“I—,” your voice choked at the memory. “I—… Was the one with the plunger, as Director. T—the plan was— to… pull the detonator when both squadrons checked in, and I did. I—heard the… I heard explosions that did no match the expected sound of what we were supposed to be setting off, nor in the locations that I expected. It sounded… centralized.”

You looked at each of the councilors with a pleading face. “I didn’t know— I—”

“Please, take a moment, Simon. It’s okay,” Joseph said gently.

“Go ahead when you’re ready,” Anseh said gently.

You took several agonizingly long minutes to breathe, but managed not to cry. You’d shed enough tears over this, through the years. Eventually, you made a fist and gathered your strength to continue.

“Not a few seconds later, my squadron mate, Ted, rounded a corner of the maintenance shaft yelling about how we’d been betrayed. He’d caught the other squadron planting the explosives in the central ductwork, and came running to tell me instead of over the comms, in case their squadron head had a plunger too. He… He was caught in the draft as we fled, and I barely made it out because my hardvac suit was still on fully. ...My own Brothers… planned to kill theirBrothers. And took 62 innocents in the crossfire. Framing me for it.”

The councilors shifted uneasily as you couldn’t hold your tears any more. A gentle hand placed itself on your shoulder—startled, you looked, teary-eyed, up to see that Doctor Beckett had stood and came over to give you the gentle gesture. You let yourself cry this time.

“David, council liaison, had shared with me during the return transit from your Realization, that you had shared with him, this same claim,” Joseph spoke up. “I would like to file that, with the official account. David stated, verbatim: “He is as much innocent, as responsible, as a scapegoat.” I do believe I share this same sentiment.”

“Aye,” Xander and Anseh said nearly in unison, with Umbra following shortly after that.

“I would like to formally apologize, Simon, on behalf of the Council, for the decisions we made in handling your case. We did not allow you a fair trial, and, I believe we can all agree on that here. We were not acting with full information, and with emotions, which isnot how we strive to serve our people,” Anseh said, her tone reflecting her words.

You nodded, but it felt like far too little, far too late.

Anseh moved to tap one of the tablets in front of her. “Thank you for sharing that with us, Simon. I can’t tell which was more painful for you to relive.”

“Both, equally,” you grumbled through the tears. You cleared your throat of them. “Glad it’s over.”

The Doctor, still having a hand on your shoulder, spoke up gently. “Thank you for letting me be here. You were very brave, and hearing this, I think I can plan a course of action to help you work through these traumas.”

You nodded to him. “Th—thank you, Doctor.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Umbra lean over to Anseh. You couldn’t catch everything that ze whispered to her, but caught that ze was concerned that if Eden had anyone that could hack their communications, that it was an open secret that their communications were compromised. Anseh whispered back, saying something about how they did not have the work force to completely recode their communications firewall.

“Simon,” Umbra spoke up. “How are you able to hack into our communications?”

You wiped tears from your eyes as you gathered your voice. “Um. It’s a hard patch. A transcoder that is physically patched into a comms relay that can temporarily transcode our—Eden’s comms into utilizing COI frequencies. Once the transcoder is uninstalled, Eden’s comms are no longer patched in.”

Zir eyes glazed over, as if ze had never considered a hard bypass before. Anseh gave zir a look. Joseph was taking notes.

“And, you said your Brothers who knew how to do this, are not as skilled as you are with it?” Xander spoke up.

You nodded. “They could never get the hang of transcoding on the fly; if the address changed while the transcoder was connected, they weren’t fast enough to repatch, and left our Brothers with dead air. The Brother I learned how to do it from passed over a decade ago, IMC.”

Umbra and Anseh exchanged looks. “How, dangerous, do you believe those Brothers to be—do you believe they could eventually get the hang of it, with you gone?”

You shook your head. Though that gave you a curious thought. “If I could ask… How, many attacks has the COI suffered from Eden since I was captured?”

All four councilors made that face that said you were punching above your position, but Anseh moved to scroll through one of her tablets. “Three.”

“Three? Were any successful?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Eden was floundering? You would have expected triple that amount were you still there.

“One, was. On a personnel transport,” she replied.

You took a deep breath. Were you really that important to Eden’s functionality? What was going on?

Joseph caught your eyes with virs. “It would seem to me that, you held far more power in Eden than you realize… And that we should be extremely cognizant of that fact.”

“Aye,” said the three other councilors in an eerie unison.

“Thank you so very much for your information today, Simon,” Joseph’s voice was as polite as ever, but you could hear vie were ecstatic underneath vir carefully held tone. “I believe that my assessment of you was correct—you are an astonishingly sharp young man, and I am very much looking forward to doing your capability questionnaires with you and learn even more about you.”

You nodded to vir.

“But, first, let’s get you fully integrated. When would you like to take your second class?”

20:34:52. 20:34:53. 20:34:54.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t show,” Caleb said as you stared at your little tablet, perched on the arm of your chair, watching the seconds tick away.

Your knee bounced as you looked to him, then out at the rest of the Commons. You were sitting beside each other in a pair of arm chairs within the courtyard, and Caleb had gotten a small bowl of tiny, crispy flatbreads from the Bakery when you’d came in—he kept trying to offer you one, calling them “crackers”, but you were too anxious to want to try it. Caleb had messaged Alyx about the seedling, and she had offered to meet with you after her shift—she had said it ended at 2000—so she could get a good look at it, but she hadn’t shown yet.

“Even if she’s able to bring soil for it, I’m concerned what she could ask for in trade,” you said quietly.

“Fuck, Bro, she might be intrigued enough by it being a living tree—if it is even living—to give it to you for free,” he replied through a mouthful of flatbread. “If there isn’t actually trees here, too, at that.”

“There’s no way she would be able to smuggle out soil, and give it to me for free. I’m more scared she’ll just want to take it from me,” you looked to him.

He watched you quietly for several moments, crunching. “I don’t think it’s like her to do that, but. You gotta point.”

You held the seedling protectively in your hand, shielding it, hiding it from onlookers. “Why did Joseph want me to have it,” you asked, mostly rhetorically. The question hadn't left your head since you dumped it out of the paper pouch. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

He shook his head. “I’m surprised they found it in the first place,” he said.

That made you think back to how the sub had looked when you stumbled out of it, and—oh God, you’d just remembered where the pendant had been when you’d seen it last. Your face scrunched as it went cold thinking about that. That’s why there was that fleshy growth stuff on the glass…

“What, what’d I say?” he asked, harrowed at your reaction.

You took a deep breath to settle your stomach and nerves. “The pendant was wrapped around my left wrist.”

The color drained from Caleb’s face and his eyes went wide when he came to the same conclusion. “Oh… Well… I guess that’s how they found it then—”

You reached over and gave him a good punch to the shoulder, more than a tap but not enough to do damage, or disrupt the pendant in your hand. That provoked a laugh from him, at least, and he moved to guard his shoulder with his hand.

“Science has to be having a field day with that sub,” he said in between laughter.

A chill ran down your spine, and you shivered. “Fuck, now I’m scared to get a report from someone about analysis on my torn off arm…”

He made a choked noise in surprise at how plainly you’d said that. “Is, is the Council letting you know that kind of info?”

You nodded. “They said, not all of it, but… They came to the conclusion that I’m more helpful if I’m in the know, than not.”

“Fuck, Bro, I’m sorry,” he said with an apologetic tone.

“It’s an unsheathed dagger—I wanted to know, but… It also sucks to know,” you said, looking to him.

He nodded and watched you quietly. “Are you okay?”

You gave him a curious look; he was the first one to ask you that, in that way.

“That, has to be a lot to mentally handle. I know how fucked up I was when I got here, and you’ve got so much more hanging over you than I did,” he said with a concerned tone.

You looked away from him. You weren’t sure. “I’m… taking it one step at a time—trying, at least. The anti-psychotics are probably doing a lot of heavy lifting, because I… feel mostly okay, until something directly reminds me of any of it. That, and the newness of being here, which lets me focus on something else…”

“Y’know I’m here for you, Brother,” he said.

You looked to him. “I know, and I’m more grateful for that than I could ever express.”

He reached out his fist in offering to you, and you moved to tap yours to his.

Mentioning the anti-psychotics made you think of something. “How long, do you think I’ll be on the anti-psychotics? I’m… afraid to just stop taking them, because I don’t know if killing that thing in the dream actually stopped it from showing up, but…?”

He offered you another cracker after putting one in his mouth. You relented and took one, studying it as he crunched on his in thought, before ultimately putting it in your mouth. “I’d have to confer with the others, but, I want to keep you on them until the worst of your brain injuries have had time to heal—at the very least, the one to your visual cortex. Its just a theory, but, people with traumatic brain injuries tend to have the most vision issues when they have injuries to the visual cortex—as the name would suggest. I know the monster is, somehow, more physical than that, but, considering we don’t have much to go off of at all, we gotta take what we can come up with—heal the brain, you stop seeing the monster, and hopefully the monster stops bothering you.” He made a thinking motion with his head. “If, you didn’t just fix the problem by killing it in the dream.”

You watched him quietly as you crunched on the cracker, trying to absorb that. “How long would that take?”

He shook his head. “There’s no set timeline, unfortunately. It depends on your healing factor, and just how badly your brain got damaged. You’ve already got something screwy going on, seeing how well you’re doing for only being about 4 weeks out from the injury.”

“Do you think something about the blood’s properties has something to do with it?” you asked quietly.

He shook his head. “It’s… so hard to tell. Instinct tells me no, because where we observed the blood “fixing” the damage throughout your body, the brain has a barrier that keeps blood from entering it directly. Thus, anything the ocean blood could have done was prevented from effecting your brain.” He shrugged, looking lost. “But, that doesn’t mean it couldn’t have affected the barrier itself, and thus allowed the ocean blood into the brain, or done something else fucky up in there. We just, don’t know. I’m sorry, Bro.”

You nodded quietly.

“We can do weekly brain scans to keep track of healing progression, though, and probably should, honestly. I’ll log that into my schedule.”

You gave him a soft smile. “Thanks, Caleb.”

“No problem; gotta get you back into working order,” he chuckled, reaching over to tousle your hair.

You mostly succeeded in dodging him, but he still managed to flip a chunk of your hair out of place. “Dammit, Caleb,” you grumbled playfully. He chuckled as you moved to fix it—your brain trying to get your left hand to help. Grumbling when realizing what you were doing, you set the pendant on your leg in order to have your hand free to fix it properly.

He seemed to catch onto what happened. “I think half of your physical therapy is going to be rewriting your brain’s instinct to use your left hand,” he said, with a somewhat light tone.

“Seriously,” you grumbled. “It’s getting really irritating. And it’s the most brain-dead things, too, which is the most frustrating part.”

“Makes sense though, if it’s coming out of your subconscious, you’re not really thinking about it, it’s just habit.”

“I know. But. It’s frustrating.”

“I know,” he said with an apologetic tone.

As you moved to pick up the pendant again, a person approached where you both sat, catching your attention—you simply placed your hand over the pendant instead. Caleb smiled to her; “Hey Alyx, good to see you!”

She sighed, out of breath, and planted her feet in front of you both. “I’m so sorry I’m late, my supervisor was on top of me today making sure the harvest was done—a couple of the higher yielders are maturing faster than expected, so we’re working our asses off—I don’t even know if I’ll have time to open the stall this week.” \

“Shit, that sounds like hell,” he replied, gesturing to one of the chairs. “Sit, take a break. Medic’s orders.”

She laughed breathily as she pulled up one of the armchairs closer, moving it like it weighed nothing, then took her satchel off her shoulder and sat, setting it beside her chair. You watched quietly as she did so; she was stocky, a head shorter than you, and she smelled of sweat and loam. She took a deep breath to catch her breath before looking to you and offering her hand to you to shake. “You must be Simon, I’m Alyx, so good to meet you!”

You gave her a bit of a smile and took her hand hesitantly, knowing the pendant was out in the open, vulnerable, as you did.

She noticed it immediately, and she sat forward in her seat, her elbows on her knees. “Is that it? May I see?”

You glanced briefly to Caleb—you just had to keep your trust in your Brother—before reaching to gently scoop it up and offer it to her in your open palm.

She took it from you just as carefully, and balanced the glass between all of her fingers for security as she studied the seedling. Caleb sat forward as well, trying to get a good look at it, as you hadn’t shown him how it had changed.

“I don’t… know that it’s alive, but… I just have this feeling that it is,” you said quietly.

“What the fuck,” Caleb swore, his mouth agape as he stared at it. “That, is horrifying, how did it do that?”

Alyx placed the glass flat in her palm and began to very gently touch the tiny leaves and branches. She looked between you and Caleb. “Can you tell me more about it?” She asked in a hushed tone.

“It’s a seed from the Last Tree on Eden,” you said, just barely above a whisper.

Her eyes snapped up to you. “This? This is a tree seedling? From the Tree?” she whispered excitedly.

You nodded. “I’m from Eden. My Brothers and I, we each had one in symbolism of our service to the Tree.” You spoke carefully, remembering Lea mentioning that Caleb was hiding being from Eden, and you weren’t sure if Alyx knew, so better to just throw only yourself in front of the knife just in case.

She stared at you, seeming to be in disbelief at what she was hearing. “The Last Tree is a legend here in the Consolidation. You’re telling me I’m holding a seedling of it?”

You nodded. “It used to be just a seed pod, a small root, and a single leaf… But, since… Um. Some, strange events, that, even if I told you what happened, it’d sound like crazy talk, it started to get bigger. At first, it was just a couple roots, and a few little branches, and the little trunk formed, but as of this morning, I found it like this. I had given it some water ereyesterday, just in case it was alive, so, I have to imagine that it isbecause it’s even bigger now than it was then.”

“I find it hard to believe, because it’d been in that glass, and had already been sprouted in the glass. How could it still be alive after that?” Caleb spoke up.

Alyx shook her head as she studied it closer. “Plants are resilient little miracles, especially the Last Tree itself, according to legend.” Her eyes snapped back to you. “What do you know about the Last Tree?”

A million thoughts entered your head at that, none of them real helpful. It took you a few moments to sort through all the emotions tied to it to give her a response. “Um… Nothing, much that could help you, I don’t think. We… weren’t taught about the Tree, as a living thing, it was mostly… Used as a focus of worship,” you admitted.

She nodded, seeming to understand that—she’d probably heard stories about Eden’s tree worship. “If I told you what I know, based on legend, do you think that might jog your memory, or help lead you to something?” she asked, holding the pendant carefully, preciously, and how she treated it helped you relax a bit.

You shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Legend goes, it was gift from Earth’s oldest space station, a cutting from one of the most successful trees ever genetically modified to live life in space. See, most trees don’t do well on stations—they need wind agitation from a proper climate to grow properly, something that’s hard to replicate on stations; even the best agricultural centers in the before times struggled with it. They’re fine when they’re small, but as they get bigger their trunks just fail, because they weren’t able to strengthen themselves enough when they were smaller to withstand the pressure. But, the Last Tree’s propagator, with it’s genetic modifications, bypassed this need, and it grew huge, and insanely strong. It’s no wonder Mars’ first station was a recipient of it’s cutting—to celebrate a strong start, one would want a strong core, a strong symbol.”

You nodded at her. That sounded pretty standard to what you knew of it, at least the propaganda that Father fed the masses. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Caleb watching in stressed silence. Seems your assessment of him not telling Alyx was correct. You’d have to keep that up with her.

“If the legends are true, the Tree has only a barest relationship to Earth trees, due to the genetic modification, but if I had to guess what kind of tree it’s based on, it’d be a walnut, due to the legendary strength of it’s wood, or a maple, based on this little one’s leaf shape. Perhaps even both, depending on what genes were used to splice into it’s genetic code to strengthen it’s trunk. What did the seed look like?”

“Um, can I see it again?” You reached to open your palm to receive it. She dropped it gently into your palm, and you moved to study it closer. “Here,” you said, offering to place it flat in her hand. Doing so, you pointed through the glass where the little “wings” of the seed were still just barely visible flanking the tiny trunk the seedling had grown. “Those little flaps, came off the sides of a round lump. The little trunk has grown out of the lump part.”

She took it and held it up to her face so she could see more clearly. “Would you lookit that… Yeah, that’s a maple seed alright.”

“So, how does that… affect it growing?” you asked carefully.

She looked to you. “Honestly, I’ll have to do some research. We haven’t seen trees in almost 30 years… Most of what I know is from fun facts and legends, not having to care for them. You really didn’t learn anything about it on Eden?” her tone held pity,rather than accusation.

You shook your head. “Leadership was really selective of who could even touch the Tree, considering it’s importance. It wasn’t important to every-day life for the average person to know anything about how it lived, just that…” you paused, looking for the rightwords, “we, fed it well.”

“How did you do that?” she asked curiously.

You stared at her, trying to figure out how to most gently say it, or lie. “...How much do you know about Eden?”

She shook her head. “Not much, to be fair. Just that it’s the largest remaining station, and that it has the last Tree. And that for some reason the Consolidation and Eden have animosity toward each other.”

You swallowed, trying to come up with something. “Um… we. Were it’s soil. Our dead fed it.

She watched you, processing that. She took a deep breath, her face losing some of it’s color. She looked to Caleb, who was feigning surprise—or was he actually surprised you had been truthful?

“That’s… one way to feed a plant, I guess,” he said, picking his words carefully.

Her face made a trip through agreement into a horrified acceptance.

You hoped your face showed shame. You felt it, along with guilt and hesitance. “It was the ultimate gift one could give, in our beliefs. ...Nothing went to waste.”

She opened her mouth to speak once, hesitated and closed it, then took a deeper breath to actually ask what she wanted to. “How… is the Tree doing?”

Your face fell, and you kept your eyes on her so you couldn’t look at Caleb and ruin his secret. “It died, about 4 years ago, EIC. We don’t know why.”

Her face fell too.

“No one wanted to accept it, and kept… acting like it was alive, but. I think we secretly knew. I knew, and I, don’t know much about plants,” you said quietly.

She looked to the pendant in her hand, then suddenly stood. Both you and Caleb looked up at her in surprise, and she began marching off before either of you could say anything.

“Alyx?” Caleb called after her as you both launched to your feet to follow her.

“We have to get it out of the glass,” she declared, her small stature carrying her surprisingly quickly through the courtyard and onto the outer loop and toward the traders’ stalls.

“You could have warned us first,” Caleb griped, but kept up with her. “Wait up!”

She seemed to ignore him. “Norrick!” she barked from halfway across the loop, gathering the attention of other folks hanging out around the courtyard.

A head peeked out from behind the junk of the stall you’d bypassed the other day and looked around bewildered. The scrawny gentleman’s eyes locked on Alyx, and his brows furrowed. “Alyx, whatchu makin’ that ruckus for?”

She marched up to his counter, you and Caleb close on her heels, and faced him down. “Norrick I need to borrow a couple pairs of pliers, just for a moment.”

His brows knitted. “Whatchu want them for,” he stated rather than asked.

“I need precision—there’s scrap glass in it for you,” she said, her voice strong.

One of his brows unknitted and lifted in interest. “How much.”

She held up the pendant for him to see, but she had a solid grasp on it, and held it out of his reach. He ducked his head to get a better look, and she shifted it so it would catch the light from his alcove. His face shifted to show intrigue, and he looked back to her with an almost tired look. “One second.”

“Needle nose, please. I need precision. And something to put the glass in,” she demanded as he moved away from the counter and disappeared behind the veil of his baubles.

You watched her with fascination, and confusion at Norrick’s behavior. She looked back at you and Caleb for just a moment, catching your face. “Norrick’s a stubborn pack rat, but he’s the one you go to if you need anything. I’m sorry that I bartered your glass,” she said with an apologetic tone.

You shook your head. “Not at all. Not much use to me,” you saidquietly.

“It’s a commodity. Anyone would kill for glass to trade to Norrick,” she stated.

You looked to Caleb, who nodded in agreement. “Remember how I mentioned that there’s not much chance for folks to ever trade any of the traders, besides Alyx? That’s what I meant.”

That put it into perspective for you at least. “Well, if it gets the seedling out and safely, it’s a worthy trade.”

She nodded and looked back as Norrick reappeared from behind his junk wall. He silently set down a selection of pliers, ranging from needle pointed to flat headed and wide, and a metal tray. He moved to sit on a stool that was just behind the counter, and he crossed his arms, leaning against a shelf of baubles to watch.

Alyx reached up above her head to flick on a lamp on a swinging arm that was sticking out of the shelving, and pulled it down to hover just over the counter. She planted her elbows on the counter, and, taking up a couple of the pliers, stooped low onto it to steady herself. You and Caleb watched from over her shoulders as she clamped the biggest piece of intact glass with a wider set of pliers, and began prying gently at the solder with a needle pointed set ofpliers.

Her work was careful and precise, and despite the glass already being in pieces, she avoided making a bigger mess of it, stopping and adjusting her pressure whenever the glass groaned beneath her prying. After several minutes of careful work, she managed to get a shard out of the solder, and dumped it into the metal tray. With the wider vantage point, she set down the needle thin pliers she had in hand and picked up a slightly thicker jawed set of pliers, then began trying to peel back the solder. It came away smoother than you’d thought it would, and soon it was stripping back, shedding the remaining glass or taking the glass with it as it unrolled. Alyx managed to free the seedling with little issue, though she still moved carefully so the sharp edges wouldn’t damage it.

Freeing the seedling completely, she cradled it carefully in her hand while she dumped the glass that came away with the solder into the tray, then took the seedling into her freed hand and unceremoniously dumped the rest of the glass that had fallen loose in her hand into the tray. She dusted the seedling off and stood, pushing the metal tray toward Norrick. “All done, thank you for the tools,” she said.

He unwrapped himself from where he sat and scooted the metal tray closer to himself. “Thank you, for your trade,” he said almost eerily, moving to pick up the tray and the tools to sequester them back behind his junk shelves.

Alyx turned and held the seedling up to you, gesturing for you to take it when you simply began to look at it. Surprised she was offering it to you, it took you a second to realize and move to hold out your palm for her to place it into. Once she had, she moved tohead back to where you had been sitting. “Let’s get it planted then,” she said.

You hardly had a chance to look at the freed seedling before she stepped away, and you cupped it gently to follow after her. “You were able to bring soil?” you asked quietly, not sure she’d be able to hear you, but not wanting anyone else to hear.

“I was,” she said, navigating the maze of the courtyard. “That’s what took so long for me to get here—I had to make sure my superior wasn’t watching me, and she’s been doing it all day. It’s not much, but it’ll get your little one started. We can work out getting more when it needs to be up potted.”

Arriving back at where you’d been sitting, Alyx sat in the chair she’d pulled up, and began digging in her satchel. You sat in your original seat, realizing your PII had been sitting on the arm of the chair this entire time—your face went cold, and you set the seedling on your leg so you could slide the little tablet back into your pocket before it disappeared.

As Caleb took his seat, you looked to Alyx and asked the hard question; “So, what do I owe you for all this?”

“Your silence,” she said quietly as she pulled a small pot out of her satchel. It was no larger than the drinking cup you’d had the pendant sitting in previously, but it was filled to just a couple centimeters below the rim with soil. “A few hundred grams of soil here and there going missing won’t alert anyone, but as I’m sure it’s easy to guess, once that little one gets bigger, it’ll end up being kilos, and that’ll be difficult to smuggle out. We’ll probably have to do it in waves. Larger pots will be simple, since I already have extras in my stall.”

“How long will it take it to get to that point?” you asked, truly unsure.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Typically trees take decades to get big, but with a genetically engineered one like this, I have no idea. We’ll have to be prepared for a very fast grower.”

You watched her, quiet for several moments. “What happens when it gets too big to keep in my apartment?”

She watched you in return, her eyes looking away and around the Commons in thought. “If it does get to that point, then we’ll have to tell my superior the truth.” She gave a tight smile and looked to you. “I think it’d go over pretty well though—after all, this may be the actual Last Tree, now, if Eden’s is dead. The Consolidation, having the Last Tree… That’s a pretty good way to ask for forgiveness after not asking permission first,” she said wryly. “Hell, you might even be able to take it to the Council at that point and see if they wouldn’t want to install it somewhere in the station, like, here in the Commons.” She smiled a big, genuine smile. “That’s so cool to think about,Simon, are you excited?”

You returned her smile, though yours was tinged with concern. “I’m, surprised you don’t want me to turn it in to you, or, to Science, or…”

She shook her head. “We have so little in our lives, and it’s obvious that you care a lot about it. I’m happy to help you care for it.”

“Thank you Alyx,” you said, your face pinching, trying not to cry.

Caleb reached over to place a gentle hand on your shoulder, and at the same time, Alyx put a hand on your knee. “C’mon, let’s get the little one planted,” she said. After she did, she moved to stand, and moved off to grab a small table from a few meters away, then dragged it over. She placed it mostly in front of you, and then set the small pot in front of you. “You should get to do the honors, I’ll walk you through it.”

“Um,” you watched her as she moved to sit. “I… how?” You held up your one hand in a show of uncertainty.

“It’s very simple, you’ll be able to do it, I promise,” she said with an encouraging smile, and reached out to hold the pot. “I’ll hold it still for you. The little one is so small, you don’t have to dig more than a few centimeters to have a deep enough hole to plant it’s roots—just, in the center of the pot, shove the soil aside just enough to make a 2-by-3 centimeter hole. You can even keep her in your hand while doing so—I do it all the time when up potting tiny seedlings.”

You picked the seedling back up into your hand and gently cradled it between your fingers and palm as you reached uncertainly over to the pot. You did as Alyx instructed, the soil an interesting feeling to dig around in.

“Then, gently set her roots into the hole, and giving her support with your thumb so she’s standing up straight, cover up her roots with the soil you pushed aside. Press it down flat—don’t worry about crushing her roots, they’re pretty sturdy at this point. You want the soil compacted so it won’t float away and disturb her roots when you water her,” she instructed, watching you.

You nodded and did so, gently setting the seedling in the soil and letting it rest in the crook of your palm and thumb as you shoveled the soil under the seedling’s tiny branches to cover it’s roots. With just a couple fingers, you patted the soil down, though Alyx prompted you to push down harder—it was nerve wracking to do so, but with her expertise, you had to trust her.

Moving to dust your hand off on your jumpsuit, you looked at the little seedling—it looked so much happier in the pot, and out of that glass, and it made your face pinch again. You were trying so hard not to cry.

Thankfully Alyx spoke up and pulled you out of your thoughts; “Aww, look at her,” she cooed. She looked to you. “You don’t want to over water her. She doesn’t have much drainage in a tiny little pot like this, and from what I remember, most hardwoods like walnuts don’t like to be sitting in very wet soil. If the top couple of centimeters of soil is damp to the touch, she’s perfectly happy with water.”

You nodded at that. “Um. What about, nutrients?”

“That you’ll have to trade me for, but I also don’t know yet what she needs—she might need a lot, or she might not need much at all. She’s so small at the moment, she’ll happily live off the nutrients from her seed pod and what’s naturally in the soil until she’s bigger. That gives me time to find out what she needs, and even then, we’ll probably be guessing since she’s genetically engineered. Oh, and, I’ll get you a light from my stall, so she has a concentrated light to give her plenty for her to grow up strong—”

Light… The dark atrium… Alyx paused as she saw your face fall in realization. “I just realized how the Last Tree died,” you said quietly.

Both Alyx and Caleb watched you with surprise.

“Light. Eden is built to let in sunlight, but without the sun, there’s really, not much lighting where the Tree is located. It’s always dark in the atrium. It… it literally starved to death. We… we must’ve forcefully kept it alive, but it was always slowly starving…” you breathed. “The fading starlight might have been enough to keep it going for as long as it did, but it wasn’t enough…”

Alyx watched you with her brows furrowed in concern. “Oh, that would do it…”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Caleb struggling to keep a straight face.

“Fuck,” you said quietly.

“At that, let me go get you a light then, so this little Last Tree doesn’t go the same way,” she said gently, then moved to stand and headed off toward where her stand stood on the loop.

Finally you looked to Caleb once she was out of earshot. “Are you okay?” you asked him.

He shook his head, but then nodded. “I’m. Pissed about the Tree but. I’m glad you have this little one. You better take good care of it, or I’ll make sure you feed it.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that, and you nodded, a grim smile on your face. That did make you think of something though, and you watched him quietly as you pieced it together. He watched you, the upset leaving his face and being replaced with curiosity. “When the last Son of Eden joins the grove, the Tree will be reborn,” you said to him, in your old sermonic tone. “Father accepted the Tree was dead, even if others didn’t. And, made new prophecies based on it.” You watched Caleb try to figure out where you were going with this. “Based on, how our Brothers betrayed me and our other disillusioned Brothers, does the tree consider me the last Son of Eden, because they aren’t upholding our code? ...Did, I die and join the grove in that sub?”

Caleb’s brows furrowed. “Unless the, dying bit is non-literal. You being the last Son it recognized, and can no longer be a Son, is still in a way joining the grove. …Or, your arm was enough of dying?”

You nodded quietly, your face scrunching at remembering that last bit. “In that anesthesia dream, the dead Tree saved me. It wrapped its roots around the me-monster, holding it in place for me to kill it. Then, it said, “Take good care of me,” to me, and I had the pendant in my hand. It… passed itself on to me.”

He watched you, thinking about that. “That’s. Yeah. That sounds like exactly what happened,” there was no condescension in his voice, and it felt a bit odd that he agreed with you so quickly—you knew your beliefs in the Tree were strong, but even you felt like you were talking crazy.

You took a deep breath and looked at the little seedling. “The Scientists that found it, had to have known what it is. Joseph let me have it. He knows I have a Last Tree seedling. But why.”

Caleb shook his head, and you spotted Alyx heading back toward where you sat. “They all had to have thought it was dead, and of no consequence. They had to have,” he replied.

“I really, really don’t know,” you replied as Alyx moved back into earshot and moved to sit in the chair she’d been sitting in.

She set down on the table a lamp that was on a flexible armature. “Again, all I ask of you in repayment is your silence. I can easily write off one light, so I’m not concerned about that. If the filament goes, though, you’re on your own,” she said with mirth.

The word, as common enough as it was, made you twitch, and you saw Caleb watch you carefully out of the corner of your eye. You nodded quietly, trying to pass off your reaction as just a quirk of the nod. “And, what of the nutrients later?”

She gave you a smile. “We can work that out later, but, I can always use a hand around the stall when it’s open.” You gave her a pointed look at her joke, and she gave you an apologetic smile—but not completely apologetic. “I’m serious. Even one extra hand is still super helpful in getting folks things they need as I process trades.”

You gave her a nod. “Sure. ..Um, I really, really don’t know anything about plants. Does, does it need light all the time?”

She made a noncommittal motion with her head. “Yes and no. The more light you give her, the faster she’ll grow—but you can also burn her little leaves if the light is too close and hot to her. But, it won’t harm her at all to have a dark period each cycle, to sleep when you do. Plants back on the planets didn’t have sunlight at all times, and they were just fine. Hell, we let certain plants have a sleep cycle on the ag ring, too—some plants actually grow better in the dark. Not trees, though, to my knowledge.” She thought of something, and reached into a pocket on her smock. “Here—hold out your PII,” she said as she retrieved her own little tablet.

You reached into your pocket and grabbed yours out, holding it out toward her. She held hers up near yours, and tapped around on hers’ screen a bit.

“There,” she said, pulling her tablet back. “I opened a message thread between us, so you can always message me questions, or send me pictures of her for diagnosis or advice.”

You pulled your tablet back and tapped over to the messaging program, finding Alyx’s name in the selection list now—then you registered what she said. “Wait this thing can take pictures?”

She chuckled. “Of course it can. Some models have better cameras than others, but even with a shitty picture I can typically diagnose certain ailments just by looking at it. Now, I don’t typically go giving out my contact info because otherwise I’d be inundated with questions at all hours, but, for your situation, I’m happy to.” She gave you a big, sincere smile.

You mirrored it. “Thank you for all your help, Alyx.”

“You’re very welcome, Simon! I hope she grows nice and big, and I’m excited to see her get bigger—you have to send me pictures as she does,” she said, her voice bubbly. You nodded to her. “But, I’m going to go get something to eat before the stalls close. Reap the rewards of all my hard work,” she joked as shestood.

“Want some peace and quiet, or would you like company?” Caleb asked before she could step away.

“I would love to chat more, actually,” she said with sincerity. “It’s not often I get to talk with folks outside my fellow Gardeners, and when my stall’s open it’s always for business—thank you so much for asking, Caleb, that’s so kind of you.”

“Sure thing, we’ll be right here,” he replied, giving her a smile.

“Okay, be right back,” she said and nearly dashed off toward the loop.

You moved to tap around on your little tablet, scanning the programs list carefully for the camera that Alyx had mentioned.

“That went, about what I expected,” Caleb said as you focused.

“I’m, really surprised actually…” you said with half a mind, half reflexively.

“I’m tellin’ you Bro, the culture is really different here. I know it’s super hard to get your mind out of it, since it’s all you know, but, trust me, I’ve seen it first-hand for years now.”

You sighed and looked to him from your search. “I know… It’s just… not easy. Think, how long’d it take for you to get it through your skull?”

He watched you quietly, thinking. Eventually he shook his head. “I dunno… but. You have a point. It did take a while to unfuck my brain, my expectations… I think I was even more distrustful than you are.”

“You didn’t have anyone to lean on,” you pointed out. He nodded. “So, I’m… doing what I can.”

He ended up nodding again. “Sorry, you’re right.”

Trying to get him out of that line of thought, you held out your little tablet to him. “How the fuck do I take pictures with this thing? I assume there’s a program for it.”

It took him a moment to realize what you were asking, then reached to take it from you. As he scrolled through the program list, he seemed to take extra notice of the handle you’d had added to it, and even he seemed to use it. “Bro, this handle thing is great. Glad they could do this for you—I wish all ours had something like this.” You gave him a chuckle as he scrolled. “...What the fuck, I’m not finding it. Did this thing not come with it…? Let me see if there’s a download of it on the Intranet—I’d assume there’d be, but y’never know…”

You leaned over to see what he was doing; you’d heard about being able to access media and other info on the Intranet, but the integration class you’d been to so far had been a very introductory class, and hadn’t gotten into the fine details of what the Intranet was or how it worked. “Joseph said that thing would allow me to send you diagnostic data, so I’d also assume it had things like a scanner or something, and at the very least a camera.”

“The fuck’d vie say that for. I’ve never seen a PII do something like that,” he snorted as he scrolled through a list.

“Maybe it’s my specific one? Because I came here so hurt?”

His brows furrowed and he stopped scrolling, looking to you. He looked back to the tablet, and tapped out of the program he’d been using. “Where’s your med tracker?”

You reached over to scroll around to find it, then tapped on the folder it was in—Oh. There was the camera. You both laughed. “The fuck’s it doing in there?” You asked.

He shrugged and handed your little tablet back to you. “Whoever set up your PII must’ve figured, you, being from Eden, was an idiot and needed all your medical-relevant stuff in one spot. You can change that—I remember how when I was new I realized some of the stuff on my PII was in stupid places too, or dumbed down, like we were a bunch of archaic technophobes or something over there.”

You spotted Alyx heading back to where you were sitting as you replied to Caleb; “I think they do think that, Bro. Joseph complemented me on picking up using the PII really quickly, when vie first gave it to me. Said that other Edenites vie’s handled act like they’ve never seen a tablet before.”

Caleb snorted. “Probably just because we’re in a bad place, mentally, when vie first gets us.”

You looked to him, and risked asking the question before Alyx got within earshot. “Is vie your handler too?”

He shook his head. “Anseh is.” That threw out that theory. “She’s a hardass old crone, but she wants the best for us, and really only knows tough love as a way of showing it. I love her dearly, but she doesn’t pretend to be anyone’s friend. She embodies the Consolidation’s motto wholecloth.”

That seemed to put her words earlier in the day into perspective. “Joseph said she’s my back up when vie’s off station,” you said as Alyx stepped over, who was carrying an enormous flatbread stuffed full of charred veg.

“Sounds about right,” Caleb replied simply as she was in earshot, though his line of thought probably would have gotten cut off anyway as he seemed interested in her food. “Fuck, you’re making me hungry, Alyx.”

She chuckled as she sat. “Got the macros left to spend?” she said with mirth before taking a huge bite of her food.

“Not even a little, sadly,” he laughed.

A funny thought occurred to you; “It’s gotta be hard as hell to be a Gardener; I think I’d sit there eating what was harvested as it came off the plant.”

The food in her mouth stifled her laughter, and she replied when she swallowed most of it, “That’s our secret, we do sneak a few fresh veg as we harvest.”

“I never even thought of that, and now I’m super jealous,” Caleb said with mirth.

“Says the medic, with the ability to synthesize the best pain meds, stuff the rest of us don’t get,” she teased back before taking another big bite.

He snorted. “I can’t, but maybe if I catch my supervisor in a good mood I can bother zer to do it for me.”

You mostly checked out of their banter as you looked back to your little tablet, tapped over to the newly found camera, and tried to figure out where the camera’s aperture even was physically on the little machine.

“Oh please, I know you’ve got better than what’s on the shelf,” she muttered around her food. “Maybe I should start asking you to trade me the good stuff when you come by for your plants’ supplements.”

“No, what you should be doing if you need better than what’s on the shelf, is coming by to see me to get it for real, because if you’re that hurt you should be seeing me anyway. Alyx are you hurting yourself and not coming to see me?”

She made a noncommittal noise.

“Alyx. That’s literally what I’m here for.”

“You’re not my dad,” she teased.

“No, I’m your medic,” he said sternly.

Figuring out the aperture was on the lower left corner of the tablet based on how you normally held it, you moved to hold the little machine carefully so it wouldn’t fall or slip while you were lining up the shot, and pointed it at the little seedling and it’s little pot. The irony wasn’t lost on you as you mentally steadied yourself to tap the shutter button on the screen once having lined up the framing you wanted. The screen displayed the picture you’d just taken, and despite a deep, subconscious fear that the picture would be in that awful, grainy black and white, it was simply a perfect visual capture of the tiny Last Tree (Last, Seedling? No, that didn’t seem right. What was a baby tree called?) sitting on the table before you. Staring at it, for some reason that fear still didn’t dissipate, as though the picture would morph into black and white, or fade away from the screen. It did neither as you stared at it.

Alyx’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts; “Oh, how cute! A commemorative photo of her first day planted, what a good idea, Simon!”

You looked up at her, not wholly pulled out of the emotions you’d been stuck in. Your face must have showed it, as Caleb spoke up withconcern in his tone: “You okay, Simon?”

You looked to him when he said your name. It wasn’t Bro, or Brother, but hearing it from him helped clear your mind better, grounding you back in reality. You shook your head, and his brows furrowed with concern. “Um. No, but. I will be. Sorry,” you said just above a mutter. “Um.” You looked to the physical Last Sapling. “I figured if. I was going to take progress photos of it, I should start at the beginning.”

Alyx’s expression had turned to concern too. “That’s such a good idea, getting to go back and see where she started and how she got to where she gets to,” her tone was still bubbly.

You looked to the tablet in your hand, with the photo still displayed on it’s screen. “It’ll… be good to take some photos that aren't of insane alien shit,” you said quietly, though then you realized that, technically, wasn’t the seedling living insane alien shit, too? You made a noise at the thought. “Though, I guess the seedling sorta counts as that too.”

Looking up at the others, you registered Caleb watching you with a healthy look of concern, and Alyx, though having taken another bite of her food, also had concern on her face, along with an obvious look of confusion.

The council hadn’t told you you couldn’t tell people what happened, now that you thought of it. They hadn’t told you what was classified, either, but also Alyx was very clearly going out on a limb to help you as it was, and if it pertained to the Last Sapling’s growth, maybe she should know… “Um.” You took a deep breath and kept your voice low. “My, Realization… Was to go into an ocean made of blood.” You paused for Alyx’s reaction, which was to make a surprised sound and her eyebrows to lift. “I know, that already sounds insane, but. It gets so much more insane.” You looked to the Last Sapling. “Long story short, I had to take pictures of points of interest down in the blood, things that couldn’t be understood by surface scans. The seedling was with me throughout, sitting in it’s pendant. It witnessed the same horrors I did, and was exposed to the blood, just like I was. We, later learned the blood was mutagenic; that’s... that’s why I’m as fucked up as I am.” Subconsciously, you moved your hand to gently prod your face graft, tracing where the chunk of your beard had been removed to clear the anomalous growth. “But, I’m starting to think that, that’s how the seedling is alive. Something about the blood, or, something about the alien shit, woke it back up or… I don’t know.” You shook your head. “I don’t even know why I have it. I last had it was in the sub, where it… got left behind. Joseph had it returned to me. Vie know I have it.”

You looked to Alyx and Caleb. Alyx was watching you in silence as she chewed, her eyes flicking between you and the seedling randomly; Caleb looked like he was seriously thinking that over.

When Alyx swallowed her mouthful, she lowered her food and sat forward to study the little seedling closer. “I think… When she gets bigger, and she’s got the limbs to spare, you should clip one to send to Science.” She looked up to you. “Because, if that’s true… Then they’ll definitely be interested in studying her.”

“Why wouldn't Joseph just, keep it with Science in the first place, then? Science was the ones who found it—there was a conversation had between Science and Joseph, that led both of them to the decision to let me have it,” you said, stressing your words.

She sat back upright, but looked back to the seedling. “Maybe they already took a cutting? I don’t see anywhere they could have done so, she’s so small, but if she’s growing that quickly, it could have scabbed over already.” She took another bite of her food, still staring at the seedling, seeming to be in thought.

Caleb shook his head. “I’ve been thinking that both Science and Joseph just assumed it was dead, not worth fretting over.”

“I’ve been led to believe that this is not the first of Eden’s seed pendants that the council has seen. If that’s true, they know this isn’t what they look like. Also, I was told that the council confiscates our seed pendants to plant some day,” you looked to Alyx at that. “Do you know anything about that?”

She looked to you with surprise and shook her head, making a motion to excuse her while she finished chewing. When she’d swallowed, she said, “Not at all. Unless my superior does, and it’s classified, but, I can't imagine anywhere else that the pendants would be taken to be grown than here, if it isn’t classified.”

Your brow furrowed. Did Ava really just tell you that to rile you up? Caleb gave you an “I told you so” look.

“Best you can do is ask Joseph then. I dunno if it’s any different for Realized folk, but, the council is usually pretty forthcoming with information,” she continued, watching you for a response before ultimately deciding to keep eating.

You watched her quietly, making no moves to say anything. You looked to Caleb.

He shrugged. “She’s right. The council makes it a point to have their decisions understood by the rest of us, because understanding where a decision is coming from makes for better trust and easier communications in the future. You should message vir—this has been eating at you for a couple days now. Worst vie can say is nothing, or that you can't know that.”

“Or vie’d march down here to take it back,” you said pointedly.

“I doubt that,” Alyx said through her mouthful of food. Caleb nodded in agreement to that.

You looked from them to the tablet in your hand. Sighing, you tapped out of the photo of the Last Sapling that was still displayed there, then over to the messaging program, and into your message history with Joseph. Adjusting your grip on your little tablet with the assistance of the new handle, you began to type: “Magister, I was wondering why you returned the pendant to me? What swayed the decision that I should have it, and not leave it with Science?”

Being that it was getting late in the wake cycle, you weren’t sure if vie would respond to you, and you looked to the others. They watched you expectantly, and after a few moments, you realized they wanted to know what you’d asked, so you conveyed what you’d written to them. “Hopefully it doesn’t wake vir.”

“Vie won't be asleep yet, it’s not sleep cycle yet,” Alyx said between bites. “And vie’re the councilor who’s the easiest to get ahold of—vie’ll respond in a few minutes, promise.”

At that, Caleb pulled his little tablet out of his pocket to check the time. “I should be getting to bed myself here soon, though…”

Your little tablet made a sound. Looking to it, it had a notification that Joseph had replied: “It is yours, is it not? Of course we would return it to you.”

You frowned at the response. That didn’t exactly answer your question—though as you read back your original message, vie did in fact, answer you as you had asked. You grumbled as you thought of a new way to phrase your question. “It’s obviously strange, perhaps even affected by the ocean blood. Why was it not left with Science to study?”

Alyx and Caleb watched you curiously. You conveyed the conversation so far.

Caleb snorted at the miscommunication. “That sounds like Joseph.”

You thought to check the time, and tapped out of the messaging program. 2133. Looking to the others, you asked, “The, Commons is open until 2200… Does that mean we have to leave by then?”

Alyx shook her head as she chewed, and Caleb responded, “No, but there is a sound ordinance in place. As long as you’re here quietly, you can hang out, pretty much all night.” Alyx nodded in agreement at that.

You nodded in understanding as your tablet made a sound. The notification led you back to your message history with Joseph, and reading it over, your brows raised. You read the message aloud to the others: “Science has already done an analysis on it! We entrusted you with it, as we felt that as you are the rightful owner, and we do not need to hold it for any further testing, there is no reason Science should keep it.”

“Ah, so they did already do testing,” Alyx said through a mouthful of food.

“Huh,” Caleb muttered. “I wonder if they know it’s alive.”

You read over vir message again. ““We entrusted you with it”. That’s a, rather specific wording.”

“Could just be Joseph’s usual vocabulary, honestly,” Caleb mused.

Alyx shook her head as she swallowed. “No, I think Simon’s got a point. That’s pretty specific, and Caleb I dunno how often you interact with Joseph business-wise, but, vie have a very specific way of speaking. That’s very specific—I think vie do know. I dunno if Science knows, but vie do, or at the very least suspect it. Oh that’s so exciting, Simon, that means then that vie know, and is hoping you care for her well enough that she grows up!”

You stared at the message history at that. “Why not send her to you and the Gardeners though?”

“Vie said so virself—she’s yours. And, you said so yourself—she went through the same trials and horrors that you did. She belongs with you,” Alyx said pointedly.

Your face pinched at that, and you took a deep breath so as not to cry. You hadn’t thought of it that way before. The horrors of the expedition had been so isolating, that knowing the Last Sapling had been there with you through it allmade it feel a little less lonesome. Your brain tried very hard to go down a dark memory trip, but you looked to the tablet in your hand to try and focus on the present. Instead of wallowing, you moved to type a response; “Thank you for your trust, magister.” You looked up at Alyx. “Um,” you cleared your throat. “What—Do you, know, what a little tree is called? Is it called something other than a seedling?”

You caught her just as she’d taken the last bite of her food, and she made a motion to excuse her chewing. You nodded, being patient. When she was finished, she responded; “A sapling, but usually that refers to one that’s a bit older.”

You looked to the Last Sapling. “I think… Calling her the Last Tree is confusing with the one from Eden… but, Last Seedling is incorrect too, since while she’s the last tree seedling, she’s not the last seedling ever, so… The Last Sapling?”

“That’s so cute,” Alyx cooed. “I love it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Caleb had gentle smile on his face. It was so hard not to openly share the moment with him, but you figured you could do so later, when his secret wasn't at risk.

Thinking of him, you checked the time on your little tablet. 2140. “We should, probably get heading to bed then,” you said, stashing the little machine into your pocket. “I’ll have to set her up before I do, though.”

That made the others check their PIIs as well. Alyx’s face fell. “Ah, shoot you’re right,” she sighed and moved to stand. “I’m going to go make sure I locked up my stall correctly—I may not have in my excitement about the sapling. You two go on ahead—thank youfor spending time with me, and including me on the Last Sapling’s journey!”

You gave her a warm smile as you and Caleb moved to stand as well. “Thank you for all your help Alyx, she wouldn’t last long without you.”

“No problem at all! I’m excited to see her progress,” she said, giving you what passed as a polite bow while also retrieving her satchel from beside her chair. She paused as she stood upright again, swinging her satchel over her shoulder and looking up at you. “You look like you could use a hug. Would you like one?”

Was that common here? It was starting to feel like a trend. Regardless, you gave her a nod. You could question why all you wanted, but hugs still felt nice.

She just about bounced up to you to give you a big hug—meanwhile, Caleb made a concerned noise and quickly warned, “Careful, he’s pretty injured still—”

“I can see that,” she said as she squished her face against your chest, wrapping her arms around your waist. You wrapped your arm around her shoulders as she gave you a gentle squeeze. Even with her being gentle, you could tell that she was made of pure muscle, andthat she was practiced at controlling how much strength she used—that made for a very comforting hug.

You kept your smile as she parted from you. “Thank you, again.”

“Of course—you get better quickly!” she chided. As she moved to leave, she caught a glimpse of the seedling. “And, you take care of her well, now—don’t forget you can always message me with questions!” She gave a casual parting wave as she headed off.

“Will do,” you replied, returning her wave. You looked to Caleb as he stepped closer, and reached for the lamp that Alyx had left.

“I can carry this for you, we’re heading the same direction, after all,” he offered.

“Oh, thanks Bro,” you replied, reaching to pick up the Last Sapling’s pot.

Caleb also moved to scoot the table back to where it’d been before Alyx moved it, and took the lamp with him as he headed for the elevator. You moved to fall in step with him.

“How’re you doing?” you asked him.

He gave that same gentle smile he’d had a bit ago. “A, bit in disbelief. I really do hope that the Sapling’s alive, because if you two got my hopes up for nothing, I’m going to be pissed.”

You gave him a slightly wry smile and a gentle shoulder check as you walked.

“What? Don’t you think that this sounds too good to be true?” he snorted with mirth.

“I do,” you said, serious. “But, considering all the alien bullshit I’ve been through in the last month, it’s really fucking hard to not believe. And that it’s been there, dealing with all the same bullshit? Caleb, you studied my scans. You can't tell me that there’s not something wrong with me. Think it couldn’t affect the seedling too? And you seemed to be pretty accepting of my anesthesia dream. You believe in the Tree, just like I do. Do you really think this is the weirdest thing we’ve put our faith in?”

He pointedly didn’t look at you as you both stepped up to the elevator, and he pushed the call button. “...No, it’s not.”

“Do you trust me?” You watched him with expectant eyes.

He stiffened, then looked to you. You couldn’t read his face. “I do, Brother.”

You gestured with the Last Sapling’s pot. “Do you still believe in the Tree?”

He set his jaw and nodded.

“I do too,” you said.

He nodded a bit more as the elevator arrived. You both stepped in when the door slid open. As Caleb reached for the destination panel, you realized you didn’t even know where you were going without your little tablet.

“Uh… could you take the Last Sapling please? ..I need my PII,” you admitted, holding the pot out to him.

He looked to you, then to the seedling, and took the pot with a reverential air to his action. He stared at it with care as you pulled your little tablet from your pocket, and tapped over to the map program.

“Thanks for… not letting Alyx know,” Caleb said quietly as you got your bearings on the map.

You looked up to him, processing that for a second. “Of course. Lea told me that you’ve been keeping it to yourself, so I had a feeling.”

He nodded as the elevator came to a stop. “As much as, folks like to think they appreciate us, there’s always an air of distrust that folks here have of Edenites. It makes my job way harder, so… I started hiding it when I got assigned here. Lea and a couple of the stall owners—and, now Marg,” he sighed, “are the only ones besides you who know.”

You watched him with a bit of concern as you both stepped out of the elevator. “I’ll do my best to help you keep it secret but, are our antics going to be noticeable? Even folks on Eden knew who Sons were just by how we interact with each other.”

He moved to follow in your footsteps, led by your tablet’s map, as he thought about that. “If… we don’t get too loud and bark-y with each other, I think we might be able to fly under the radar. Remember that, folks in the Consolidation are more personable than those on Eden—we may be rougher with each other than folks are used to interpersonal touches being, but being in physical contact with others isn’t strange here.”

You nodded, though you chewed on his words as you led him through the winding corridors of the habitation ring. You thought about how it’d been a long time since you’d had a tousle with a Brother, and that made you miss it. You’d just have to get better quickly. “Do you miss tousling?”

He snorted behind you. “Bro, do I.”

You turned to look to him, giving a big wry smile that pinched your graft a bit too hard. “Once I’m better,” you trailed off, your tone playfully threatening.

He laughed. “Looking forward to the day, Bro. Just, focus on getting better first. And don’t you dare push yourself too hard in physical therapy just to rush it—if you hurt yourself worse and put off your healing, you’ll have to answer to me.”

You gave him a laugh as you rounded the corner that led to the hallway your apartment was on. “I promise, Bro, I won’t. But, we’ll see what kind of shape I’m in even then. All these grafts, and mutated parts, and, shit.”

He gave you a reassuring huff. “Once you’re fully healed, you’ll be back to giving me the run around, I promise. I don’t see being down an arm holding you back.”

You gave him a look as you stopped in front of your apartment door. At a glance, the light on the parcel box was green—not that you expected anything else to be mysteriously dropped off at your apartment, but at this point, you weren’t sure what to discount—so you moved to unlock the door with your tablet. The light turned green, and it opened with a hiss. “C’mon in,” you said, nodding your head inside. He followed closely after so the door wouldn’t shut on him. “Thanks for being an extra set of hands,” you said genuinely.

“No problem, Bro,” he replied as he glanced around your apartment. “Huh, they gave you one of the bigger fancy ones.”

You furrowed your brows at him. “They have different sizes?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Mine’s just big enough for the bed and,” he stuck his head into the bathroom, “my bathroom’s half this size. Man, that shower looks nice.”

“I don’t even know what I’m going to do with the space,” you said, looking between the night stand and the desk. You considered both options for setting up the Last Sapling on, and was weighing them as Caleb stepped beside you.

“The desk is super nice, I like that.” He paused as you thought. “Where would you like this?” he eventually asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to decide,” you said, looking to him. “I’m afraid of her—” you paused and chuckled, catching what you just said. “Alyx has me calling it ‘her’ now.”

“She’s got a read on those kinds of things,” he said matter-of-factly, looking to you. He shrugged. “I believe her if she thinks the sapling should be called by she.”

You lifted a brow, but accepted his judgment on it. “Well, I’m afraid of accidentally knocking either the pot or the lamp off my nightstand… But the desk feels a bit far away.”

“Wanna keep her close,” he asked more than stated, but you knew that he understood what you were saying, so you nodded. “Could put her right on this corner of the desk, so she’s right there when you walk by, and the first thing anyone sees.”

That point gave you a bit of concern. “What if, someone who doesn’t know, comes in? Should I actually have her out of sight?”

He shook his head. “It’s gonna be pretty rare that someone comes in without your express permission—we aren't on Eden anymore,” he emphasized.

You watched him quietly. That sounded so alien…

“Laundry goes solely through the receptacle, and you’re expected to keep your space clean yourself, so you’re not gonna have anyone dropping in unannounced to do cleaning. No one but you or anyone you register in your PII as able to, has the ability to unlock the door, so besides station security and the councilors themselves, no one can enter, if your door’s locked,” he said. As you thought about that, he moved over to the desk and set the lamp and the Last Sapling on the corner he’d indicated—seems he was making the decision for you. “Besides, I think she’s innocuous enough to be a curiosity rather than suspicious.”

Your brows furrowed, concerned still. “She’s in soil. Doesn’t Alyx offer hydroponics?”

He looked to you. “That’s… true. ..I dunno, Bro, I think she’ll be just fine. Do you really think you’ll be having lavish parties in your apartment?” he gave you a wry smile.

You snorted. “I guess not.”

He looked back to the lamp, and began looking around for where it connected to power. “Besides, knowing you, it’d be folks you recruited to come worship her, and you giving sermons, so you’d be less concerned about if she was weird to them.”

You frowned. He was right, but… “...I don’t want to be that person anymore. I just parroted Father, anyway.”

He glanced back at you from what he was doing. “You were pretty good at it, though.”

“Sure.” You thought about it as Caleb rummaged around by the desk. Being away from Eden, away from their beliefs, life moved on, without the Tree. So much of the devotion that Father spouted as being required toward the Tree, didn’t make sense away from it. Even with the Last Sapling in the room with you, it didn’t seem to hold the same sway. Was it all just, Father’s words? Sure, she felt important, but the thought of following in Father’s footsteps and making a whole religion and belief system around her felt… unnecessary. Was it just because she’s still small? Didn’t have her power yet?

You shook your head. No. You didn’t want to be Father, you never did. “It felt… like falling in line, was just for survival. We listen to our Brothers’ commands for survival. We listen to Father’s words for our, and the Tree’s, survival. ...We’re not surviving there, anymore,” you said, without really realizing you were saying it aloud.

Caleb was half under the desk when you noticed you’d said anything, and that he had poked his head out to watch you. “Came to that on your own, huh? Took me a couple years with the Doc to get that through my thick skull. Good on, ya, Bro,” he said with a sincerely congratulatory tone as he ducked back under the desk.

“Well, I had the last few years away from Eden reinforcing their beliefs on me, so,” you said quietly.

The lamp turned on, catching your attention. Caleb backed out from under the desk gingerly to check it. “Perfect,” he cheered before standing.

As he started flexing the armature of the lamp, you decided to say something you had on the tip of your tongue; “She feels important, because she’s alive, and kept me company through Hell, not just because she’s the Last Tree’s seedling. That’s… really what I want to care for her, for.”

“Well, I know you’re having a moment and wringing your brain out of Eden’s bullshit, but I gotta get going so I can get to bed, and, the first step to caring for her is figuring out which port the lamp’s on in your mainframe program, so you can set it to stay on during the wake cycle,” he said flatly, looking to you.

Registering his words took a few moments to snap you out of what you were thinking about, and to reach for your little tablet. “Sorry,” you muttered as you tapped around on it, looking for the program that controlled the different aspects of the apartment.

He stepped over to you, and wrapped his arm around your back to put his hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay, Bro. You’re gonna have a lot of those moments, I know I did.” He looked over your shoulder to help you. “So, best thing is to just turn them off one at a time to see when the lamp turns off…” You did so, going down the list until the lamp went off. Turning it back on, you set that port to stay on between 0800 and 2200—the lamp turned off after saving the setting. Caleb nodded. “Now, I set up the lamp to be a good distance from her leaves. You’ll want to back it away from her as she gets taller, as Alyx said, the lamp can burn her leaves. That’s why the lamp head is on the armature. When she gets too big to safely fit underneath the lamp—which she’ll probably be in a bigger container by then—you’ll want to put her on the floor, and hang the lamp over the side. Since trees get tall, if the Last Tree is anything to go by, she might need to be propped up by something—if she starts leaning, go see Alyx to get something for that. I know she’s got those for some other types of plants she offers.”

You nodded, absorbing that. It was a bit nerve wracking—how would you know when any of that was applicable? Probably would just have to ask Alyx…

“And, don’t just keep her all to yourself, huh? Think I can come see her sometimes?” he gave you a wry smile. “And not just pictures.”

You gave him a chuckle. “Of course. Just let me know.” You slid your little tablet into your pocket, then moved to give him a proper hug. “Thanks for your help today, Brother.”

He kept his arm around your shoulders, and moved to wrap his other arm around your back and below your ribs, where he knew there weren’t any injuries to bother. “Least I could do.” He gave you a tight squeeze before letting you go, prompting you to part from him. “Don’t forget your meds. And take it easy. I’ll see you tomorrow for your physical therapy, ‘kay?”

You gave him a smile. “’Course. Sleep well.”

“I’ll try, you too,” he returned the smile before moving to leave. “You too, Last Sapling,” he said over his shoulder as he headed down the hall.

You chuckled as the door hissed open, his boot steps retreated out into the main hallway, and the door hissed shut behind him.

You moved to look to the Last Sapling again, mentally running through the list of things Alyx had said to take care of her. Oh right, water. As you moved into the bathroom to grab one of the cups to fill with water, you ran as much as you could remember of what she said through your head, trying to commit it to memory. A couple of centimeters of soil should be damp. That wasn’t much water, you didn’t think, so you didn’t fill the cup very far, and figured you’d pour it really slowly to be careful.

Taking the cup back out to the main room, you stepped over and very gently tipped its contents into the Sapling’s pot, watching the water soak into the soil. Alyx had been right—it had been a good idea to pack the soil around her roots, because it threatened to float away as you poured. Not wanting to over do it, and figuring you could always add more tomorrow, you gave her just enough to make the soil around her base wet, out to a few centimeters radius.

You stepped back to look her over. It registered strangely in your head—this wasn’t anything like Salvation, and yet it triggered the same sort of emotion as watching the Gardeners give the Petitioners to the Tree. Which brought up a strange thought—should… should you offer the Last Sapling your blood?

You bit the inside of your cheek. It all came back to blood.

You shook your head. No. Let Alyx do her job, and tell you what the Sapling needed. Besides, the Sapling had had enough blood for one lifetime, probably.

The thought sat with you, though, as you got ready for bed. Would it be odd to ask Caleb? He’d probably just say no, don’t do it. Probably wouldn’t hurt to get his opinion anyway.

Getting tucked into bed, you brought down the lights with your little tablet, and set it aside. Almost on instinct, you said quietly aloud: “Good night, Last Sapling.”

Simultaneously, you both didn’t hear anything, but also subconsciously registered that soft voice you’d heard a couple times reply: “Good night, Son.”

“I will say, Umbra seems to have taken a shine to you,” Joseph said in that tone of virs when vie were excited, but trying to remain professional.

“With respect, ze didn’t seem too happy with me at the meeting…” you said, your voice reserved and trying very hard not to show any disrespect.

Vie gave you a gentle smile. “As I had mentioned before, some of the councilors will have their own, personal opinions of you. Ze, as our security specialist, had, and has, a particular…” vie trailed off as vie looked for the word vie wanted, “concern with, how easily Filament Station occurred. Zir opinion of you is warranted, but with your description of your skills, ze have been hounding me for when you were going to be able to take your capabilities questionnaire—you already have a councilor lining up to task you,” vie chuckled, “so you may find yourself a very sought-after individual indeed.”

You sat with that, looking between vir and the open PII dock in front of you. You were sitting within Joseph’s office, the dock on vir desk as vie had been working with you on your questionnaire. The last week had flown by, filled with physical therapy, psychotherapy, integration classes, settling into the culture of the COI, and lots of rest, and after you’d had your last class, vie had almost immediately scheduled this meeting with you. As busy as you’d been, you’d also been getting quite used to the lack of stress that came with not having tasks—beyond considering obligations to be tasks, but those felt different. Obviously, you’d known that you’d eventually be put back to work, but there was a fear in the back of your mind that crept in at remembering you wouldn’t be doing tasks you were used to on Eden—“As much as, folks like to think they appreciate us, there’s always an air of distrust that folks here have of Edenites. It makes my job way harder…” Caleb’s words stuck in your head. If a medic had issues with folks accepting his work, just because he was from Eden, you weren’t exactly looking forward to folks’ judgment of having to work with you.

You looked to vir—vir words weren’t the most comforting, in that regard, but there was a hope in your gut with them. “So, what? Do you think that I’d be more of a, jack-of-all-trades? Requested for work at random?”

Vie made a noncommittal sound and motion with vir head. “It’s too early to say. Judging by your skill set, I would hazard to say yes; you have a wide array of highly valuable skills—piloting, ship triage, navigation, hacking, communications, physical fighting prowess, leadership, organization, planning, tenacity.” Vie tapped vir desk as vie thought. “I have some preliminary ideas in mind for more steady and predictable positions, but considering that Umbra could very well use your experience within the security field, nothing is set in stone. Especially as your hand deficiency may limit the type of work you can do with Umbra, and consulting isn’t always the most steady of work. Plus, we cannot ignore how knowledgeable you are of Eden—and do understand, if not accept, how incredibly valuable that is—and that you have accepted being a consultant to any Edenian matters… Jack-of-all-Trades is a very good way of putting it.”

You were quiet as vie watched you think about that.

“Though, we also cannot forget to factor in what you want to do, as well! I can guide you toward positions in which I believe that you would be most suited, or would greatly benefit from your skills, but you do also have a choice in any more permanent positions.” Vie chuckled as you gave vir a confused look. “Say I were to offer to you, today, a position as transport captain, or Umbra’s security consultant. You could tell me that you’d much prefer to have a steady workload in operating a transport, or that you’d much prefer an uneventful and stationary position working solely out of an office here on Derin, and I would be quite happy to give you whichever one you indicated. We not only try to match up skill sets and ability sets with folks, but also what they want out of life. It’s not always perfect, considering there’s always undesirable jobs to be done, but in general, a field that you’re going to enjoy, is where you’re going to excel. We would much prefer our people to excel, than to bumble along with mediocrity.”

Want. There was that pesky word that everyone seemed to sling around that even after being here a week, you just couldn’t wrap your head around. When vie put it that way, it made more sense, but even then, it was hard to think about. Making decisions over the last week had already been hard enough, but to have to pick something you wanted to do? You shook your head, trying desperately to get it to sink in. “I’m sorry, magister, I’m just. I’m used to decisions being made for me. Getting a choice is hard for me to grasp.”

Vie gave you a gentle smile. “You should prioritize that with Doctor Beckett; many of your Brothers have expressed similar, and I know that he’s been able to work wonders for their mental health in regards to it.”

You nodded quietly, making mental note of that—you’d been working on so many different issues with him, each one felt just as important as the last, but if it helped ease you into the culture, maybe it was the priority. "So, when do I start work?" you looked up to vir.

Vie sat back in vir chair and tented vir fingers in thought. "We will need to work that out with your medics. Understandably, you would be just fine to do something light, such as consultant work, even starting today, but for something more physical, I would need the clearance of your medical team to give you even something small, such as courier tasks. Remember, your real task right now is rest and recuperation. That is something we cannot rush, and while I imagine its quite boring to someone of your status, I would hope the station’s intranet can keep you occupied."

You looked to the PII dock at that. "I, haven't messed around much with that. I know it was explained in integration but, its... not something I'm used to, just... having information at my disposal."

"You should take some time to peruse it,” vie prodded gently. “While, yes, you can use it to learn about our history, or gain new skills, we have a whole host of entertainment media from the before times that can’t be found elsewhere, as well as some that folks have crafted in their own downtime since, so something new will surely help you take your mind off things for a while and keep you preoccupied.”

Your brows furrowed, one raised in confusion. “Entertainment?”

Vie blinked. “Why, yes. Some folks these days may see it as frivolous, but overall it is understood within the Consolidation that being able to disengage from the reality of our struggles helps keep one’s stress levels under control.” Vie blinked more as you just stared at vir with no hints of understanding what vie was saying. “Music? Film? Fantasy stories?”

You simply shook your head slowly. “I’m, I’m sorry, magister, I have, no idea what you’re talking about.”

Joseph put vir folded hands to vir mouth in a motion you recognized as someone who was deep in thought and shock. After a few moments of seeming lost in thought, vie put up one finger in a “one moment” motion, and moved to pull vir little tablet out of vir breast pocket.Vie tapped around on it for a few seconds, then set it on the desk. It made a pulsing sound for a few seconds, until a familiar voice came across the speaker: “Joseph, magister, what can I do for you?”

“Yes, Doctor Beckett! I’m sitting with Simon, who has shared with me a curious fact, and I wished to confirm it with you.”

“Of course, magister, what would that be?”

“Of the Edenites that you have worked with, do you recall any of them partaking in the Intranet’s entertainment media?”

There was quiet from the little machine for several long moments. “You know what, no, I don’t recall that ever coming up at all.”

Joseph looked to you. “Does, Eden not partake in music? In crafting stories, or sharing stories?”

You watched vir quietly, perplexed. “I, don’t know what music is. And, crafting stories? No. The only sharing of stories is gossip, or historical accounts.”

“My dear boy, that’s awful to hear,” came the Doctor’s voice through the little machine, his tone concerned. “Also, makes several things quite clear to me about you and your Brothers…”

Your brows furrowed in concern. The way both of them spoke was as though you were missing something essential to life, as though you had just told them Eden didn’t have water.

“Would you say, Doctor, that you would prescribe Simon to engage with some of the entertainment media, then?” Joseph spoke toward his little tablet.

“Oh absolutely, magister. Son, I know that this may sound very confusing, but music and storytelling are two very human needs. To know that Eden deprives it’s peoples of fantasy escapism and rhythm is utterly shocking to me,” the Doctor replied.

You looked between Joseph and vir little machine on the desk. “I… I don’t understand.”

“I know, Son. Best you can do is just give it a try, and see for yourself. And do give it a good try—you may need to try a few medias until you find what makes it click for you, if you’re starting from absolutely no knowledge—entertainment is quite personal, and if something isn’t to your taste, it may not make sense why we’re so insistent on you trying it, until you find something you like. You should invite Caleb to partake with you—it would be good for him too, and you both can learn and engage with it together; visual media is the best for consuming along with others,” the Doctor said.

Him mentioning Caleb took you off guard—logically, you knew the Doctor worked with him too, but it was the first time anyone had mentioned or acknowledged the two of you interacting, let alone suggesting you interact more. It still felt odd and wrong that you both were even being allowed to interact, so it set off anxiety in the back of your head to be specifically told to do so. “Um… yes, Doctor,” you replied carefully.

“Joseph, you’re more up to date with what the younger folk like. Do you have any medias you could suggest to Simon to try?” the Doctor asked.

Before Joseph could say anything, you shook your head and spoke up, trying to keep frustration at the situation out of your voice, “I’m… failing to understand the basic concept, Doctor. What is it?” Why did this even matter? What was the point trying to be made? You weren’t sure you wanted to speak the other two questions aloud, so you sat with your brows furrowed in confusion.

There were several long moments of quiet between both the Doctor and Joseph. Joseph seemed to be at a loss for words, and you could assume the Doctor was as well, based on vir reaction. “It’s very hard to describe, if you have no frame of reference at all,” eventually the Doctor said. “Music is a collection of sounds that invoke the human instinct for pattern seeking—rhythm—that stir emotions based on the accompanying words, or solely by the rhythm itself. Visual and written media, such as film and fantasy novels—“fantasy” meaning “not real”—are stories that don’t necessarily have a basis in reality—they tell stories that have not happened, or seek to recreate stories that happened in a compelling way that invokes emotions in a viewer, where the viewer can then safely experience those emotions without being in real danger, or can disengage from the emotions if they become overwhelming. Or, even give the viewer good emotions they are lacking from their every day life, so they can feel fulfilled. As well, fantasy stories can help one process emotions they have in their every day life that, for whatever reason, their minds simply cannot grasp otherwise. It’s incredibly necessary to the human psyche.”

You frowned, trying to absorb the explanation—it sounded so alien, it was hard to grasp.

“If I may give an example;” Joseph spoke up, vir tone oddly reigned in, unlike vie normally spoke, “Your, official statement of what happened on AT-5, would sound very much like a story from the entertainment media library, if we didn’t have hard and solid evidence that it truly happened. It goes against our understanding of science—that is just one example of what a fantasy story can contain; I would even believe, that if you wrote down what happened, and offered that manuscript in the library for other folks to read, that folks would find it solely an interesting fantasy story.”

“That sounds very reductionist for what you have gone through, Son, but I would have to agree,” the Doctor replied. “And that is a very good example, Joseph, thank you; when folks read a story, they don’t expect the story to be true—they look at how interesting it is based on the concept of what happens in it. But, this is also why I suggest that you give media a good, solid try. Not every story is liked by everyone, so it may take a couple different stories to find something that helps you understand what we’re trying to describe as being the benefits. But I do believe that it will benefit you greatly—I now see what has seemed missing between you and your Brothers, and the Consolidation natives I work with.”

You sat with that. Logically, you knew your experiences were hard to believe, but that folks would find it interesting? And that there were stories, like yours, fantastical, but were actually not real, but folks still wanted to know about? You hardly registered you were shaking your head as you thought about it.

“Perhaps, then, you should try music first,” Joseph spoke up, vir tone returning to vir normal tone—or at least closer to it. “Music does not need to hold much attention to be enjoyed, and while it can be very emotionally provoking, holds a different method of doing so than film and novels.”

Enjoyed. There was that pesky word again. Was this, media stuff really what you were missing, the missing piece to understanding what everyone was talking about? No, couldn’t be, since Caleb had used “want” and “enjoy” before, and he seemed to understand the words. You reached to pull your PII dock closer, and tapped out of the program that you’d been working on your questionnaire with, and over to the messaging program. Tapping into Caleb’s message history, you typed to him at the same time as the Doctor replied to Joseph: “Have you ever perused the entertainment media on the Intranet?”

“That is a perfect idea, Joseph! Joseph is correct, Son, and it may be just the thing to stepping-stone into the concept!” you registered the Doctor saying.

Surprisingly, Caleb replied to you almost immediately, his messages coming in as two lines; “Sure. But it’s not my thing.”

“Why’s that?”

Joseph watched you as you typed. “That is the handiest device for you, isn’t it?” vie commented.

“What’s that?” the Doctor asked.

Remembering that the Doctor wasn't present and couldn’t see what you were doing, you said, “Um. Jerri requisitioned me this, dock, for my PII, that has a full physical keyboard. It is very nice, it’s extremely helpful. But, I, messaged Caleb and asked if he’d ever tried using the entertainment library, and he said he has, but said it’s not his thing. I’m asking him why that is.”

“Oh, hmm,” the Doctor replied.

It took a minute, but another set of messages popped up on the dock’s screen, within the message history. “Never figured out what the draw was. I tried a couple shows that folks were talking about in the past, but I just never got the point.” You relayed the message aloud to the others, then moved to type: “Doc and Joseph found out we didn’t have anything like it on Eden and are acting like it’s a huge deal. I don’t get the point either, but Doc suggested we try it together, something about being good for us, emotionally. I can tell you more later.”

“Very interesting,” the Doctor mused as you typed. “Perhaps he didn’t find what clicked for him, then, but there are folks who just don’t get anything out of media…”

You looked to Joseph’s little tablet. “With respect, Doctor, I agree with Caleb; I don’t see the point. But, I’ll give it a try…”

Movement on the dock’s screen grabbed your attention—it was Caleb’s reply. “Huh. Sure, I guess. I trust Doc’s judgment.”

“It’s hard to comprehend something that you have no frame of reference for, so I’m not surprised, Son. That’s why I implore you to give it a try, experience it, and only then pass your judgment on it. I think you have quite a lot of ugly thoughts in your head that being able to escape from them for a while will be of great benefit, and if it in turn it helps you process those emotions at the same time, then all the better!”

A message popped up on the screen of Joseph’s little tablet as the Doctor spoke, overlaying the contact information that was being displayed on screen for the Doctor. Vie moved to pick up vir little machine to read it. After a few the Doctor finished, vie spoke; “I’m sorry to cut our discussion short, but I’ve just got another matter I must attend to, Doctor Beckett. Thank you so much for your input and assistance on this matter!”

“Of course, magister. Let me know if you have any questions, Simon, and be well today, both of you!” the Doctor said before Joseph disconnected the communication.

You watched Joseph for whether vie needed you to leave or not; vie were typing on vir tablet, and did so for a good minute before setting it on the desk to look back to you.

“That was Umbra. Ze have been watching for your questionnaire to come through—ze are incredibly impatient about this,” vie chuckled.

You gave vir a slightly awkward smile—oh right, that’s what started all of this. Another message on your PII dock popped up in Caleb’s message history, drawing your eyes to it. “You’ve got that cool dock thing, why don’t you meet me in the Commons after my shift, we can check it out then with your bigger screen?”

You glanced up to the top edge of the dock’s screen, where the time was handily displayed; 1423. You moved to quickly reply: “Sure.” You looked to Joseph afterward. “I’m sorry, magister. Um… Let me,” you trailed off as you tapped around on the dock’s screen, going back to the program that you were using to submit your questionnaire. Looking over what was entered, which looked to be everything, you moved to turn the dock toward Joseph. “Am, I missing anything?”

Vie carefully pulled the dock closer so vie could read, and scrolled through the form to check your work. The dock made a sound—the one you recognized was your machine receiving a message, and you watched as vie read the preview—uh.. what did Caleb just message you...? Vie chuckled, then gave you a sheepish look. “I’m so sorry, I try not to read others’ personal messages but, it caught my attention. Your questionnaire looks complete to me, though I would suggest giving it another once-over to make sure you didn’t miss anything you want to enter into it—yes, this is just your first one, but it’ll be best if you’re as thorough as possible and have each of your questionnaires as similar as possible so they appear accurate.” You nodded carefully, concerned now what was funny about Caleb’s message. Joseph seemed to catch onto your concern, and moved to return the dock to you. “I’m glad that you and Caleb have been able to foster a relationship, even after being apart for several years.”

Your brows furrowed as you pulled the dock back toward you, and tapped over to the messaging program to see what the response was. “Make you a deal; if you get a bowl of hummus from the Deli, I’ll get us crackers, and we can split.” Your brows furrowed deeper as you tried to figure out what was funny about that—but you could see why that prompted vir words. You looked to Joseph, confused, with concern about the two of you interacting creeping up in the back of your mind. You chose your words carefully, before you spoke: “Magister, did… I’ve been confused, since I learned he’s my Brother; it feels too coincidental that he is also my medic… Was that an active choice you made?”

“Incidentally,” vie replied, sitting back in vir chair to fold vir hands together. “Derin station, being the largest, and closest, station to AT-5 was the primary choice in bringing you here and having you be a resident here. I also made it an active decision to not separate you both, if that is what you are asking.” Vie watched you for a few seconds as vie let that sink in. “You’re a sharp young man, I can tell where your thoughts have gone. Yes, we do tend to fan out our Realized Edenites across the Consolidation, but that is due to an observation that we made early on in Realizing Edenites; because our cultures are so different, Edenites will tend to congregate and interact solely with Edenites, and not even attempt to integrate with Consolidation natives, if given the choice. At that, we do realize it is an unsheathed blade—isolating Edenites from their own culture is also not healthy, but having them work with our psychologists to learn more about their new environment and learn to live within it, rather than isolate themselves from it entirely, has worked out better in the long-run. You’re the first Edenite we’ve had a chance to place with an established, integrated Edenite; it was as much a choice as a convenience, and many factors went into the decision.”

Your brows didn’t unfurrow at vir words. So, it both was, and wasn’t, a conscious choice to have you, who they knew trusted your Brothers, be influenced by a Brother already biddable to the council.

Vie watched you carefully, trying to read your expression. “Talk to me, Simon. What’s your concern?”

“You are the most tempered Edenite I’ve had the pleasure of handling”, vir words came back to your mind, and helped fight the contrariness that had begun to take hold. Father’s teachings were winning again, and you had to bite back the defensiveness it instilled in you. That’s not who you wanted to be anymore. “I’m, sorry, magister… Just. Working through gut instincts… Um.” Vie nodded at that, and patiently watched you as you put together what you wanted to say. “It just. Feels constructed, purposeful, that you’d put someone new, with someone they inherently trust, that you’ve already broken.” It wasn’t the best choice of words, but it hopefully got your point across.

An emotion you couldn’t tell what it was, crossed vir face at how you’d phrased it. It was brief, and vie nodded, vir face placid. “I, I understand how you would feel that way, and I did not think of it like that, previously. I’m so sorry, Simon, that was never my intention, the council’s intention. We understand how difficult it is for Edenites to come to terms with their new surroundings, and we theorized that with someone you trust, who has already had this experience, it would make the transition much easier. It was never about winning you over, or breaking your spirit—would you say that Caleb’s spirit has been broken?”

You shook your head, not even having to think about your response. “No, magister… I’m sorry, I know that was a disrespectful way of saying that.”

Vie gave you a gentle smile. “I asked you for your concern, and you gave it to me. It helps me if you’re honest, too, as I can more accurately gauge what the issue is, and explain it in the correct way.” Vie paused to let you digest that. “Besides. I would much rather “win you over” by helping you, than tricking you into trusting us, just because your Brother does.”

You watched vir quietly, nodding at that. It did make sense, though; somehow, they won Caleb over, over the years, and to trust Caleb, did mean to trust his judgment on the council. It helped that vie recognized that, though.

“Plus, I think it’s greatly benefiting Caleb to have you here. As I said, we’re aware, it’s difficult for Edenites to be isolated from one another. While he’s had a chance to learn how to live within the Consolidation’s culture, now he gets a chance to be with someone he knows and trusts,” vie pointed out.

Isolated… You chewed on that for several moments. You looked to vir, “Magister… were youaware you had me isolated, from anyone, in prison, for almost three years?”

Vir face fell into a guilty expression before vie caught it. Vie knew.

“For over 1000 sleep cycles… I sat in the dark, each wake cycle wondering if that day was the day you, as the council, were going to pull me, and have me killed,” you said quietly. “...You didn’t even know my name… I’m sorry if I’m a little defensive, or slow to believe some things you tell me.”

Vie let that sink in for several moments before replying. “I know, and it is only fair, and to be expected that you would distrust us, to your very core,” vie said, vir voice falling to that soft, uncharacteristic tone that vie used earlier. “Apologies aren’t enough, and I recognize that. Recognizing the excuse of “we have made bad decisions”, is not enough. We recognize that having you sitting before us brings a lot of ugly truths to light that we were never prepared to face, never expected to face. Not just I, but we, as a whole, as the council, have agreed that we will do our best to provide for you, within our means, for some facsimile of recompense, for what you’ve been through, thanks to our decisions.”

Vir words felt sincere, but it was hard to swallow. You knew there was nothing that they could do to truly make it up to you, but you also realized that your expectation of them was very low—you just wanted to live, and they were at least providing that. “I just don’t want to see it happen again,” you said, hardly above a whisper. “Don’t do this to anyone else.”

Vie nodded. “You’re a good man, Simon. We know, and don’t wish to ever repeat this.” Vie let you sit with that for several moments before continuing. “But, that isolation… is just one factor of the decision to allow you and Caleb to interact. It was a very early decision, that you deserved a friendly face on the other side of everything. That he just happened to be in the right place, and in the right field, was a happy coincidence, and made the decision very easy.”

You watched vir quietly. So Lea had been right. You nodded, but didn’t say anything to that.

A knock came upon the office door, nearly startling you out of your seat. Your startle startled Joseph, though vie seemed more ready for the knock, so vir reaction was solely at yours. Vie laughed and apologized as you caught your breath.

“Come in, Umbra,” vie said, still laughing.

“What’s so funny,” ze asked with a stern mirth as the door opened and ze stepped in.

“I hadn’t had a chance to tell Simon you were coming by, we had been deep in a serious discussion, and your knock startled him, which startled me,” Joseph said, reigning in vir laughter.

You scrubbed the good side of your face with your hand, breathing deep to try and get rid of the jolt faster, biting your tongue to keep from swearing.

“Ah, apologies, sir,” ze said. As you let your hand away from your face, ze pulled up a chair to sit a meter from you, but on the same side of Joseph’s desk as you. Ze reached zir hand in an offering to shake; you took it as ze spoke; “Pleasure to meet you in a less formal setting, sir.”

“Likewise, councilor,” you replied politely.You still weren’t used to being called “sir” by anyone from the COI, and much less one of the council.“I’m, sorry, I haven’t quite finished the, uh, questionnaire to send it through yet,” you said, looking to your PII dock that still had the messaging program open.

“Quite alright, I’ll get to see it when you’re done. But, I’m sure that you’ve been made aware that I’m quite interested in your skills—which, I must formally apologize for my behavior at our meeting last week. That was utterly unprofessional of me, and Anseh has quite put me in my place since,” ze said, zir tone reflecting the apology in a professional way.

You nodded to zir, being reminded of it making a hint of fear creep up into the back of your mind, and made you watch zir carefully. “I’ve been informed you’re the security specialist, so, I, understand wholly.”

Ze nodded at that. “Thank you, sir. I wanted to catch you today as, while I truly understand that you are still deep in the stages of healing, I want to work with you and your expertise to better strengthen the Consolidation’s defenses.”

“What would that look like?” you asked, both professionally and personally curious.

You got the chance to study zir, now that you weren’t under the pressure of being under the whole council’s watch; ze had a well-kept ponytail of white hair, the shade you’d expect to see on someone of Anseh’s age, but ze didn’t appear to be any older than Joseph. Ze were thin, but appeared fit, and unlike Joseph, wore a standard COI jumpsuit.

“With your knowledge of Eden’s tactics, my primary focus is securing any loose ends that you had previously taken advantage of to either bypass our firewalls or enter our stations. Beyond that, I would like to have your expertise take a look through our firewall coding to help me strengthen our existing firewall, in ways that you know Eden may take advantage,” ze said with a flat professionalism.

You nodded—that would be easy. “I, have to ask though… Hearing that, Eden has only made 3 attempts on the COI in the almost three years since I’ve been gone, when I know how many attempts we would usually take back when I was there… Why the increased concern in security?”

“Surely, sir, it would make sense to you that if our situations were flipped, you would be doing the same.”

Sure…? You made an agreeing nod. “I… my question still stands.”

“I have a duty to protect the Consolidation from Eden’s predations. That your services have become available simply gives me new tools in which to do that, and thus it is my duty to ask your assistance in this matter.”

Okay, fair. You nodded.

“I understand that you are under several obligations whilst you are healing, and thus please see my request for your work as tertiary in priority; however, I would still like to ask if you would be able to make time for beginning work with me tomorrow—”

“Umbra, he hasn’t even finished his questionnaire yet,” Joseph said with a slightly scandalized tone.

Ze gave Joseph a scalding side-eye. That reaction made you lift an eyebrow—did Umbra know something that the other councilors didn’t? An upcoming raid perhaps? Wouldn’t be unusual for a security specialist to have that kind of knowledge. “Perhaps overmorrow?”

You had to think. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation if my integration classes weren’t finished, so I don’t have that on my docket, but… I think I could begin something around 1500, 1600, tomorrow? For how long are you thinking, in a sitting?”

“As long as you are willing. Again, I understand that your time is meant to be resting, thus any amount of time you can provide is sufficient.”

Ze were definitely anxious about something. Reinforcing knowing your situation, but still insisting on putting you to work immediately? “Forgive my intrusion, councilor. Is there a pressing issue, that has you so concerned that I begin so soon?” you had to ask.

Ze said nothing.

You nodded, understanding that silence deep in your bones, and Joseph shifted uneasily in the corner of your eye. “I understand, councilor.” You looked to the time on your PII’s dock screen—1449. “Would… You like to speak to me in your office about this more, today?”

Umbra looked to Joseph. “Your call.”

Joseph gave a mirthful huff. “Can’t even let the boy finish his questionnaire. Yes, that’s fine—just, Simon, please submit the questionnaire form.. I know I just suggested you give it another once-over, but, I’ll give you a pass, this once.”

“Yes, magister,” you chuckled, and turned to the PII dock. Tapping over to the program that had your questionnaire all but sent, you gave it an extremely quick glance over before hitting Send. “And, one moment as I tie up a conversation I was having…” You tapped back to the messaging program, and replied to Caleb: “Deal. I might be late, though, I’ll try to keep you updated.”

Closing the dock, the machine made the message received noise, but you ignored it and moved to store it in your satchel.

“Apologies for stealing your meeting subject, Joseph,” Umbra said with a light tone as ze moved to stand.

“You always do this to me, just, sweeping in to steal my people—” Joseph said with a grandiose sweep of vir hand through the air, vir tone overtly joking.

Umbra rolled zir eyes at vir as you stood.

“I’ll keep you updated with my thoughts, after processing your questionnaire, Simon. It will get looked at by the rest of the council too, so if you hear from one of them as well, don’t be alarmed,” Joseph said to you with a professional seriousness.

You nodded as Umbra moved toward the door to Joseph’s office. “Thank you, magister,” you gave him a polite nod before you moved to follow after Umbra.

“Don’t let Umbra scare you—zir bark is worse than zir bite!” Joseph called as you stepped through the door.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as the door closed behind you, and you focused on following the new councilor. Ze didn’t say a word as ze led you through the maze of hallways, and you didn’t have your little tablet handy in order to follow with the map, so by the time ze stopped at a door, you were quite lost in an unfamiliar section of the offices ring.

Ze triggered the door to zir office to open, and made a welcoming motion for you to enter first as ze held the door. You did so; zir office was laid out very similarly to Joseph’s, so it was easy to assume which chair you were supposed to sit in, and moved to do so. Ze stepped in after you had moved to the chair, and stepped around zir desk to sit in zir chair.

“First and foremost, I want to thank you for your discretion with this matter; Joseph truly was correct when vie said you are a sharp young man,” ze broke the silence as ze moved to activate the computer on zir desk. “You mentioned at the official meeting that you were special forces for Eden; could you provide me more detail what sort of activities you were tasked with? This is purely for my own curiosity.”

“Um,” you started. “Well, as I mentioned, we did, just about anything you could probably think of.”

“You, not your force in general. You seem to have experience with espionage and special security, judging by how well you read me in Joseph’s office,” ze moved to cross zir hands on zir desk and watch you with an unsettlingly steady gaze. “Adding onto that, how casually you had mentioned hacking into our systems, that seems to be a specialty of yours.”

“Um, I wouldn’t say that. But, I guess, that’s true, considering…” You had to think about how to word it. “But, yeah. Um. I was Father’s right hand. I oversaw my Brothers and Uncles as though I were Father himself, so I learned a thing or two about subtle discussion and telling when folks lie to me.”

Ze nodded, seemingly satisfied with that statement. “How did you come into this position?”

You froze. Childrens’ blood on your child-sized hands flashed before your eyes and you had to take a deep breath to steady yourself. “I don’t want to talk about that. It. Wasn’t through my skills, though. I sort of… fell into it.”

Ze nodded, accepting that. “Can you tell me more about how you obtained schematics of the Consolidations’ stations and ships?”

You nodded, still a bit harrowed from the previous question. “Um… Some of them, we already had. I.. I want to assume that they were from the before times, usually those were of the big stations, like Damsel. Others my predecessor had hacked into, I guess the Intranet, to obtain. I don’t think we obtained a single schematic after my generation was trained and were getting started in our duties.”

Ze nodded, and it seemed as though ze were expecting that answer. “If I were to give you schematics of all the stations and ships within the Consolidation, would you be able to identify weak points—whether they be ones you personally used, or could see Eden using?”

“Of course,” you said. “Um, I do want to point out though, councilor. Doctor Beckett made me aware that, the COI doesn’t use the cameras that are still, nominally, in working order?”

“This is true,” ze confirmed.

“Based on my experience… I can absolutely identify weak points for you, but I will say that, turning on the exterior cameras and at least having motion sensing alerts enabled, would be a much larger help than any weak point identification I can do,” you said, not sure how ze would take it, since you had been told that those cameras hadn’t been used in so long.

Ze watched you, curiosity crossing zir face.

“Councilor, I cannot tell you how many times we had a heist go off, and we thought “why was that so easy”? Weak points can get us in the door, but an early warning system means that you can have security ready to intercept. Can, can I ask why the two recent failed siege attempts failed?”

That look of “you’re asking questions above your station” cross zir face for a second, but considering ze had literally asked you to be here, ze realized you were entitled to that information. “In one instance, they had tried to fly a false flag and somehow masked their communications with a Consolidation tag—that was an easy catch. In the other instance, the Iridescent was pulling into Opulet Station and spotted the transport as they were attempting to land on a maintenance shaft.”

You shook your head. Messy. “The second one, if the external cameras were in operation, the Iridescent wouldn’t have to have been the one that caught the ship. The first… I have no idea how they managed that, we’d been trying to figure that out for years.”

A dark look crossed zir face as you said that. “This is new, without your assistance.”

You nodded, perplexed. “Councilor, you were concerned about a pressing issue?”

Ze took a noticeable breath. “Yes. I have word from the Iridescent that they’ve been picking up scans of Edenian ships buzzing by it—not making contact, never firing, never attempting to get closer than just inside sensors range, and never close enough to attempt to scan or hack into it’s systems, but it’s been a constant bombardment of what, on the surface, seems like simply being an annoyance. This has been occurring daily for the last two weeks. Might you have any insight on what they might be doing?”

You wracked your brain, ultimately shaking your head. “I’m sorry, councilor, I don’t. Um, my, best guess is annoyance. Perhaps trying to bait the ship into firing, or pursuing, or wearing down their guard with false starts. We’ve never successfully hit the Iridescent, because it’s so well protected, as much as we’d always wanted to. That and Damsel.”

Ze nodded, seeming to know that. “Could you tell me how long the sensor range is on a personnel sized transport?”

“Nothing near the sensor size of the Iridescent. A quarter to a third of it’s range, if I had to estimate.”

Ze moved to zir computer and took a few notes. “And what of the broadcast range?”

“About the same size as sensor range.”

Ze stared at zir computer with what looked like suppressed irritation on zir face. It took zir a minute to say anything further, and looked to you when ze did. “Could you tell me more about your exterior camera suggestion?”

“I’m not sure what more there is to describe, councilor. With motion sensing tech being enabled, station security would get an alert that something matching, or outside of, set parameters has tripped it, and with cameras enabled, can get visuals on the triggering force long before anyone can breach entry,” you shrugged.

Umbra, however, seemed to have not thought of this before. “Does Eden have this technology?”

You nodded, watching zir curiously.

“Do all of Eden’s ships have this technology?’

“Yes, councilor.”

Ze crossed zir hands in front of zir mouth. Ze took another minute to think before speaking. “That would explain why Eden is able to hit our transports with such frequency, but our attempts against Eden fail constantly.”

“With respect, councilor, the COI has better firepower; if a COI ship overtook one of Eden’s, we’d always lose the ship—we had to be cunning. I just, didn’t realize we got away with being cunning because COI ships weren’t using cameras,” you said carefully.

“Walk me through a typical ship-to-ship skirmish, Simon, please. Help me understand how our cultures’ skirmish styles differ,” ze requested, placing zir interlaced hands on zir desk.

“Sure, uh. Say, say I’m an Edenian ship, trying to strike on a COI ship. Standard strike procedure is to fly in fast and hard from behind, magnetizing to the target ship before the target’s sensors can call all hands. If we’re too slow, the target usually enactsevasive maneuvers, while wheeling guns to fire on us. This is usually a failed attempt, and we call it off, because there’s no way we can avoid those guns and land at the same time. Now that I know better, I can tell that this has worked because COI ships don’t have visuals, other than on the cockpit. You just rely on sensors, and your sensor ranges—once we’re on sensors, we’re fucked.” You allowed zir to absorb that before continuing. “Now, say I’m an Edenian ship being targeted by a COI ship. Because Eden’s ships have visual cameras as well as sensors, we can track the aggressor from all angles and make better evasive decisions. If you’re trying to raid us, and managed to overtake us without damaging the hull, then with our camera surveillance, we can tell where exactly on our ship yours has docked and where your raiders are so that our personnel are at that entry point ready to intercept. Now, I personally have not been in that situation, but I’ve run scenarios with my Brothers who have, and typically COI raiders are not ready for the opposition waiting for them when they get in past the door they opened. Meanwhile, every time Eden’s run a siege on the COI, no one is ever there waiting for us where we’ve entered—we’ve always been intercepted once security figures out where we came in from, and by that time, we’ve usually got what we want and are retreating.”

Ze seemed troubled by this, which left you confused. How the fuck did a security specialist not think of this sooner?

“Running a camera, only for live feed, will not run your resources any harder than they do Eden,” you said gently, trying not to sound like a smartass. “And, I know your ships have the external cameras; last week when I arrived here, I watched the docking procedure, and there was live feed from the unnamed vehicle transport ship’s external cameras. I… hate to bring up Filament Station but… There, were cameras. On each of the maintenance hatches that we planned to dock at. I remember them vividly, and we’d taken into account that they’d be broadcasting when we hit the station. ...Now, I wonder if that would have gone differently if they had been…” you mused quietly.

A look of anger flashed across Umbra’s face before ze reigned it in, but then zir face fell as ze realized you were right. “You make an excellent argument. We must have been so set in our expectation that a live camera must be recording, that it simply never occurred to us that a live feed plus motion sensors would be such a simple and elegant solution.” Ze sighed. “I must ask though; how often did Eden replace these cameras? Out of pure age.”

You shook your head. “Maybe once since the Quiet Rapture. I don’t know how old they were before that.”

Ze nodded, then looked to zir computer. “This is going to be a large undertaking, to have every station and ship reactivate their external cameras, but, if it has been working for Eden, then surely it will work for us as well.”

You nodded. “Plus, that means that Eden won't be expecting it. While they won't know that you haven’t had cameras this entire time, with the cameras giving crews new abilities, it’ll scare the fuck out of Eden’s crews—we’ve been at this same song and dance for 20 years, they won’t know how to handle COI crews having new maneuvers, or sudden shows of force upon approach. Dare I say, if they’re already this fractured that they’ve attempted one strike in a single EIC year for the last three years, then it may even chase them off entirely.”

“That would be the hope,” ze said, a lightness to zir tone. “This, doesn’t seem to fix our issue with the Iridescent though. Because the Iridescent has incredibly advanced scanners, it’s external cameras would never have a better range.”

You nodded slowly, trying to figure out what to do about that. “I’m, sorry, councilor, I have no idea what to do. Until they make a move on the ship, we have no idea what their plan is for it.”

Ze moved zir folded hands in front of zir mouth again, and looked you directly in the eyes, zir gaze steady and unsettling. Ze did so, unblinkingly, for a good minute, and it began to make you squirm before ze spoke again. “Would you be willing to stay on the Iridescent for a few days to observe the situation?’

Your brows furrowed at first, then knitted in concern. “Um… I would, have to speak to my medics and Joseph before I could make any solid plans.”

“Of course; the Iridescent is due back here in a week’s time, so it wouldn’t be immediate,” ze replied. “We’d have time to plan for your stay as well as a slight change in the Iridescent’s schedule so you wouldn’t be terribly far from here and can return when the mission is completed.”

“Oh, then, sure,” you nodded. Honestly, that sounded interesting. Eden didn’t have any large freighters like the Iridescent, and getting to be an honorary crew member was not what you’d expected you’d be getting into.

“Then, I have a more involved question for you. Would you feel safe being part of an elite transport crew to intercept one of these Edenian ships that have been harassing the Iridescent?”

Your face fell, and you honestly weren’t sure what it was doing. Your immediate reaction was “of course,” but then you realized your hesitance when you registered your hand going for where your left arm was missing. “Um… I’m, sorry, councilor, I’m not sure.”

Ze nodded, accepting that as an answer. “I have your questionnaire pulled up; I see here you have piloting skills, and with your reported leadership skills, I can see how my asking you this would make you hesitate with your recent disabling.”

“Mostly, I’m unfamiliar with how to pilot a COI ship. If I had one that I knew how to pilot, I’m pretty sure I could do it with one hand, and be way more confident in my answer.”

“If I gave you an elite crew, and an old Edenian ship, do you think you could do it?”

You looked to zir, startled. Logically, you knew that the COI had captured several of Eden’s ships over the years, but to have kept them intact? “You just, have one laying around?”

Ze nodded. “I’ve had one sequestered one away for just an opportunity such as this.”

Your brows furrowed in disbelief at the coincidence.

“Understand that while this may seem quite the coincidence, with us having Realized Edenites within our numbers, keeping a single ship for just this occasion felt appropriate—a bold move, considering those parts could very easily have been used elsewhere, but this is more than us, so we must play the long game,” ze replied to your reaction.

There was that motto—you nearly grimaced at it, but you were beginning to understand why folks here spouted it so much. “What are you thinking for a mission such as this?”

“As you suggested—psychological warfare. With your expertise in Edenian skirmishing, perhaps observing their movements for a few days can help you pick out a pattern. If so, or whenever you feel it appropriate, launch a crew from the Iridescent to either intercept or tail the target. Perhaps, even hail them—you, as I’m sure if you are as influential to the Sons as you state, then they will recognize you,” ze said the last sentence carefully.

You watched zir quietly with your brows raised as you thought about that. How would your Brothers react to hearing your voice again? Would they assume you were a ghost? Would that make them retaliate even harder? Would they actually listen to your commands? “I see why you brought up psychological warfare…”

“Think about it, we will have time.”

You nodded, then a dark thought crossed your mind. Your brows knitted as you looked pointedly to Umbra, who seemed surprised at such a look from you. “You… seem to be trusting me a lot, for someone who knows exactly what I’ve done, and knows my skill set…”

An almost tired look crossed zir expression. “Do you truly want to go back to Eden? Would they even accept you back?” Ze paused to let that sink in for a few seconds. “Besides. It seems to me that you’ve settled into your new life here much more readily than your fellows have. It’d be a shame to ruin the good graces you’ve made with us by making an attempt to return to Eden; and what about the information you retrieved from AT-5? Wouldn’t that gnaw at you?” Zir tone was dark and poignant.

You shrunk back in your seat a bit, zir words rightfully scolding.

“I’ve thought about all of this, before I decided to ask your assistance with this matter. I would expect any other of your fellows to take this as an opportunity to try and return to Eden, but I do not see that with you. Is my judgment of you incorrect?” ze said steadily.

You looked away from zir and shook your head.

“I understand that we have a cultural expectation to be distrustful of one another, but I see in you a sharp young man who understands the position that he has gotten into, and is easily fitting himself into his new framework, and is working well within it. If you want me to look past your past and work with you as an equal, I can do that—I want to do that. Most Realized Edenites don’t internalize that, and continue to stay defensive. When you stepped into my office, I had before me nothing but a pleasant young man who was eager to work with me on a level playing field, and if I didn’t know you were from Eden, who you are, I would likely have never guessed—what changed?”

You set your jaw, knowing ze were right. “I’m… I’m sorry, councilor. I’m… working on that.”

“Do keep it up,” zir tone was politely encouraging. “You have a lot of promise to change folks’ opinions on Edenites, Simon. Know that you’ve swayed my opinion, despite and especially because of your specific circumstance.”

You looked to zir carefully, and ze nodded when you met zir eyes. Zir words stuck in your head—maybe all that work you’d been doing to better yourself was working.

“Now. If you still want to work with me,” ze trailed off to receive your nod in reply. “Over this next week, I would still appreciate if you could dedicate a few hours of your time to helping me, namely the identification of weak points in locational security. I can provide you with a workspace—here in my office with myself for ease of direct discussion, or a quiet office on the ring here—if you would like, or you may choose another location in which to work.”

You took a deep breath to try and get your emotions under control and your brain back on task. “Um… Working, along side you is probably going to be the best for both of us, because of that ease of discussion.”

“That would be my preferred way as well, and I’m glad that we agree on that,” ze replied. “For reference of my schedule, you said you may be able to see me between 1500 and 1600?”

You nodded. “That should give me plenty of time for my therapies and lunch.”

“Perfect. I will pen that in, and for your reference, my office should be a point of interest on your PII’s map. I’m greatly looking forward to working with you, Simon,” ze said, offering you zir hand from across zir desk.

You reached to take it. “Thank you, councilor.”

“No way, the Iridescent?” Caleb didn’t quite manage to watch his volume, and caught a few glances from other folks sitting in around the courtyard.

You gave him a look, and he returned yours with a sheepish one. You’d met up with him after his shift, having taken the pair of arm chairs you’d been consistently returning to when hanging out in the courtyard over the last week after your meeting with Umbra. Your PII dock sat on a little table between the two of you, along with the foods that Caleb had suggested earlier, and though you’d browsed through the entertainment library a bit (very confusedly, at that) before he’d arrived, he’d wanted to know all about your meeting, and gotten you completely off track.

“Sorry,” he said at a much more reigned in volume.

“Yeah, the Iridescent,” you chuckled.

“Y’know that’s where Kora’s stationed, right?” he said, sounding excited. “Wish I could go.”

Your brows raised in surprise. Oh yeah, Caleb had mentioned that his squadronmate had been assigned to a shipping freighter. “That’s something we gotta work out—what about my physical therapy? Is that something where one of you’d go with me, or something?”

He shook his head. “No, we’re permanent residents of this station. If it’s not my assignment to travel, then my assignment would have to change to be able to do work on another location. You’ll work with the medics who are permanently assigned to the Iridescent in this case. As much as I’d like to go with and see how Kora’s doing, you’ll have to catch up with them for me.”

You gave him an apologetic smile.

“Nah, Bro, this is cool as hell, I’m glad you’re getting to do that. Whatcha going for?” he asked, moving to grab a cracker and dip it in the hummus—you hadn’t had a chance to try it yet, and were hoping he wasn’t going to keep you talking the entire time so he could eat it all by himself.

You kept your voice low as you spoke, not sure how confidential Umbra wanted to keep it, and you figured if not even Joseph knew, there had to be operational security involved. Were you even allowed to tell Caleb? No one had told you yet what exactly was classified—did you have to assume any and all interactions with the council were classified? But you’d also been told several times that the council shared a lot with the general folk, so, until someone told you, you’d figure at least you could at least share it with Caleb. “Apparently the Iridescent has been the target of fly-bys for a couple weeks now. No contact, and they haven’t flown any closer than just inside the Iridescent’s sensor range, so no one’s real sure what their plan is. Umbra wants me to observe the situation and see if I can’t figure out how to resolve it.” Determined to get your share of the new food, you reached for a cracker and followed his lead.

“The fuck,” he responded quietly through his mouthful. “What’s got them so bold they think they can hit the Iridescent. It’d always been on the Do Not Fly list since it’s so well armed.”

You shook your head. “I told Umbra that. I think they’re floundering, Caleb. Apparently since I’ve been gone, they’ve only attempted a few strikes on the COI,” you replied, then put the cracker in your mouth. “What the fuck,” you said through the mouthful. “This is really good, what is it?”

Caleb chuckled. “It’s ground up roasted chickpeas and some spices. Brady says it’s not real hummus because it’s missing an ingredient that we don’t grow—Alyx says it’s good food, but not worth the trouble—but no one seems to complain but him,” he said as he reached for another cracker. “As for the situation… Fuck, I knew you were important but I guess I didn’t realize just how much you did behind the scenes.”

You sat with that, crunching on your mouthful. “I didn’t either,” you said just above a mutter. “I can’t imagine what could possibly have changed that now they’re deciding to do harder hits than just go after our usual wins.”

Caleb’s voice was dark and quiet as he replied, “...Think Father is going full scorched on the station? Thinking of what you said last week, that bit about “when the last Son joins the grove, the Tree will be reborn”, think he’s, trying to make that happen?” He stuck another cracker loaded with hummus into his mouth.

Your face went cold—that was really hard to think about. “Fuck, I hope not…” You sat with that for a few moments, and felt Caleb’s eyes on you as you thought about it harder. “...Was… Filament Station the start of it?” You looked to him, harrowed. “Was my squadron the first sacrifices he planned?’

“His star Son? I find that hard to believe, Simon.”

“A martyr,” you realized. “Fuck, he made me a fucking martyr. Of course, it makes so much fucking sense now.” Your voice grew angry as it all came together in your head. “If I died in a skirmish with the COI, don’t you think that Father’d pressure you to do more dangerous hits on the COI, to retaliate? Or, to, follow after me, or something?”

Color drained from Caleb’s face as he took in your words. “Fuck, I think you’re right.” There was a few seconds of silence between you as he thought. “What were the last few hits, do you know?”

“Opulet, a personnel transport, and Umbra didn’t tell me where the last one was.”

“Opulet isn’t that dangerous of a target, and certainly not a personnel transport… Why would they wait until now to start going after the Iridescent? And why wouldn’t they just hit it already, instead of fly-bys?”

You shook your head, unsure, since he had a good point. “Floundering, I have to guess… Figuring out what they can do without me. Father making sure it didn’t seem suspicious? Or they’ve been sitting and planning something huge.”

Caleb made an unsure noise, and moved for another cracker.

You reached for one too, to fill the quiet as you thought. After several moments, and your cracker nearly finished, you made a huff at a thought. “Umbra, suggested I run intercept—”

Caleb nearly spat his cracker out. “What?”

You nodded. “Ze suggested psychological warfare; I hail them.”

“No, Simon. As your medic, I do not condone this—Simon, you of all people know how we skirmish. You are not in physical form to be skirmishing with our Brothers as a turncoat,” he growled.

“I know, I know. I’m really hoping it doesn’t get to that point—especially if they’ve been told I’m dead, I’m hoping to spook them into surrender,” you watched him carefully.

“No. No, if you were maybe a month out from now, I’d say sure. But you’re not ready. We don’t surrender, Simon. You know that.”

“Surrender to me, though?” you gave him a pointed look.

His face fell into a grudging agreement as he thought about that. “If you come back from this more hurt than you are sitting right here, right now, I’ll feed you to the Last Sapling, you hear me?”

You chuckled. “Speaking of her, since I’m going to be off station, would you be willing to watch after her?”

He was still cross with you, and his face said it. “Yeah. I can do that.” He sighed. “Do you want me to take her to my apartment, or do you want to give me access to yours?”

“I can give you access to mine. ...How do I do that though?”

“Here,” he said, reaching for your PII dock to pull it closer.

You scooted the food bowls out of the way as he did so, so he had more room—you took another cracker as he was at it. He tapped out of the library browser that had gone completely untouched since he arrived, and over to the program that controlled the mainframe of your apartment. He stared at it for several seconds, getting his bearings. “This thing is cool as fuck, Bro, but man am I not used to the layout,” he said with mirth. Shortly thereafter, he found what he was looking for and tapped on a plus sign beside a symbol that looked like a door. After he did so, he moved to pull his little tablet out, and held it up to the dock’s screen. “Now. Where’s the scanner on this thing…”

“Try on top of the keyboard, but don’t press any buttons,” you replied through a mouthful of cracker.

He did so, moving his tablet carefully around the keyboard until the screen populated with information. “Oh, what the fuck.”

You chuckled. “As far as I can tell, the dock itself doesn’t have a scanner, but the PII in the dock can still activate it’s own, and it’s under the keyboard. It’s a little frustrating actually.”

“That sounds frustrati—what the fuck do you mean the PII is under the keyboard?” he asked, perplexed.

“Bro, that’s why it’s a dock,” you laughed. Reaching over, you tipped the whole device so it sat on the back of it’s screen, and showed him the underside of the keyboard half. You traced where the door was with a finger to make it more visible. “It’s in here.”

He looked to you, perplexed and enraptured. “They just, fuckin’ gave you this thing? It’s cool as hell!”

You chuckled. “I only paid an arm for it.”

He paused, and made a face at the realization. “Not a fair trade, under normal circumstances, but…”

You reached over to mess up his hair, which he half dodged once herealized what you were after.

“That was fair,” he laughed, moving to fix his hair once out of your reach.

“So, what did you do?” you asked, reaching over to right the dock again.

“That button I hit, allows you to register other PIIs to unlock your door. They’ll act just like your PII does. You can remove the access at any time, but then you’d have to reregister the other person’s PII again,” he said, reaching for another cracker.

You gave a mirthful snort. “You’re my Brother, I don’t care that you have access to my quarters. Fuck, we grew up in each others’ faces.” He chuckled as he stuck the cracker in his mouth. “Honestly, it feels really strange having quarters all to myself… Somehow, even stranger than being alone in my cell, in prison.”

He gave you a concerned glance as he chewed. “Yeah, it took me a long fucking time to get used to sleeping with not a single soul around,” he said after he’d swallowed. “That’s actually one of the few things I use the media library for; there’s some sound tracks on there that’s things like, made to listen to when you need noise but not be distracted. There’s a couple radio chatter ones that sound far enough away that it feels like folks talking but not close enough to hear what the conversation is; you should give it a try.”

That piqued your interest. “Can you show me where those are?”

“Sure thing,” he quickly reached over for another cracker—a bare one, this time—to pop into his mouth before he started tapping around on the dock’s screen.

As you watched him, you reached for another cracker yourself, determined to get your fair share of the food you’d paid for. He tapped into the entertainment browser again, and showed you a category labeled “Ambiance”. You reached over to tap on it, and glanced through the offerings. “Wait, is there, fucking soundbites from the before times on here??”

“Oh hell yeah. I know some folks who swear by the “Earth at Night” subcategory, but I think we’re too young to have nostalgia for it,” he said.

“Bro, I’m from Mars. I remember bits and pieces of living there,” you looked at him.

“Huh, didn’t know that,” his brows raised as he studied you.

“Did you always live on Eden?”

He shook his head. “I know my dad moved us there when I was really, really small, but I don’t remember where we came from.” He reached for another cracker. “What was Mars like?”

You stared blankly at the dock screen as you tried to organize your thoughts about it. “It was… so long ago I’ve really only got bits and pieces of it… The planet was being terraformed in patches, and we lived under this enormous dome. I vaguely recall, being terrified of breaking the dome, like, if I got too close, somehow it’d just shatter, and we’d be exposed to the rest of Mars’ wilderness.” You looked to him when he snorted a laugh through his mouthful. “C’mon, little kid logic, right?” He nodded at that. “I remember the blue sunsets, how striking it was against the orange sky… I’ve heard Earth had the opposite—orange sunsets on a blue sky. Sounds beautiful.”

“There’s some ancient nature documentaries on the Intranet about Earth. Out of curiosity over the years I’ve watched a couple—it is really pretty. Wish I could’ve seen a sunset first hand,” he said.

You looked back to the dock and scrolled through the category a bit. “Guess I’ll have to try some of these…”

“Doc said something about the entertainment library being good for us?” he asked with a skeptical tone.

“Yeah, something about… It’s a human need to engage in storytelling, and something about, fake stories can help you process emotions easier? He seemed really insistent about it, going as far as saying that it explained differences he sees between usEdenites and COI natives.”

Caleb snorted. “So, the point is, feeling emotions, or something?”

“That’s what he made it sound like.”

“We already got plenty of those.”

“He made it sound like, the stories can make you feel emotions you normally don’t get to feel during a normal day? Fuck, what did he call it… Something, escapism. Something about, being able to forget about your normal life for a while and feeling emotions that you can abandon if they get to be too much.”

He looked at you with a brow raised in skepticism. “I’m gonna message him.”

As soon as he said that, his brows knitted in surprise, and judging on where his eyes were, he was looking past you. Curious, you turned to see what he was looking at; the only thing out of place was Morrison, who was not in hys alcove, and was instead heading directly where the two of you were sitting.

Hy chuckled upon you catching sight of hymn. “Simon, my boy, do you have a few minutes?”

You blinked at him. “Of course, seraph, what’s up?”

“Since when did Morrison ever leave hys stall?” you registered Caleb’s voice, just barely under his breath.

Morrison stepped over to you. “Just got a call from Joseph, vie need your measurements. Says you’ve got a trip outside lined up, and vie’re going to get you geared up with a custom hardvac suit—but, vie need your measurements to do so, and asked if I could get them for vir.”

Your brows raised. A custom hardvac suit sounded like it’d make a lot of sense, but you hadn’t actually expected them to make one for you. “Oh, of course, seraph.” As you moved to stand, you glanced back to Caleb—and caught sight of the bowl of hummus you both had been digging into. “Hey, you better fucking leave me some of that hummus, you hear me? Don’t you fucking dare eat it all while I’m gone.”

He busted out laughing. “I swear, I won’t. Super promise. I’m just gonna message the Doc, and then we can check out this entertainment shit when you get back.”

You gave him a skeptical look, and a motion that you were watching him, before turning to follow Morrison, who was chuckling at your antics.

“It won't take long, not long at all,” Morrison reassured as hy moved to head back to hys stall. “I’ll get you back to your hummus real quick.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the interaction. Taking a moment to think as you both walked, it occurred to you, Morrison is an eclectic sort. Maybe hy’d know more about media, and things to suggest. “Hey Morrison, do you have any suggestions for things to watch from the entertainment library?”

You woke not to an alarm, not to a strange sound, not to anyone yelling, not to a nightmare, not to the daybreak simulator, just, simply your own body peacefully coming-to. It was still dark, so it had to be late in the sleep cycle; you reached for your little tablet, and it’s soft orange glow greeted you when you picked it up.

0550 the clock on it’s face said—couple hours ‘til you were expected to be up and moving. You tapped groggily to your med tracker to see when you’d last taken them, and slowly did the mental math—7 hours ago on the anti-psychotics, 9 hours on the pain meds. Good, you had some time to get a bit more sleep. You put the little machine back down and moved to scrub your face, taking inventory of yourself as you’d become accustomed to doing.

Head felt fine, left shoulder hurt expectedly, ribs ached subtly, grafts itched but not hurt… And your penis was in that strange stiff state that happened every so often. Oh. This again? It’d been a while since the last time it happened, and it was something you knew had some kind of importance, but whenever one of your Brothers asked the adults about it on Eden, they brushed them off, or told them it was bad.

You snorted at the memory and blinked into the darkness a couple times in thought, before reaching for your little tablet. It’s orange screen lit up in greeting, and you tapped over to the messaging program. Balancing it on it’s short end on your chest so you could type, you tapped on your chat history with Caleb and then in the entrance field.

“Hey, sorry it’s super early, but. You’ve been here a while, and are a medic. Has anyone told you what’s going on when your penis gets hard and stiff?” you typed to him.

To your surprise, he replied almost immediately—on second thought, it made sense; he had to be up much earlier than you did, being a medic. His messages came through in several lines. “Oh, shit, that’s right. Eden. Assholes. It’s for sex. Eden never taught us about it because that’s how kids are made. Guess they didn’t want us making any more mouths to feed. Not that they couldn’t just have used them for the Tree...That’s no worry here though, the Consolidation’s got meds for stopping the kids-making part. Makes me wonder how the fuck Eden didn’t have that. Fuck, even I can synth it, it’s that easy.”

You had to read it a few times before your just waking up brain could start to process what he had written. Baffled, you texted him back: “What?? How???”

“Some folks have the opposite of us, an extra hole into their body in between their legs. Penis goes in there, and it feels REALLY GOOD, Bro. That’s one way to have sex, but that’s also how kids are made.”

You had to stare at what he wrote and reread it far too many times to try and parse what the fuck he was talking about. “You officially lost me, Bro.” He didn’t reply for enough time that you were sure he wasn’t going to—then the little machine chirped.

“I’ve got some time before I gotta be at the medical center. I can come over so we can talk about it easier.”

“Sure.”

“Be there in a few.”

Head swirling with confusion, you could only shake it in disbelief as you tapped around on your little tablet and into the program that connected to the apartment’s mainframe; you instructed the lights to come on gradually over the next couple minutes, in a quicker version of the daybreak simulator so it wouldn’t blind you coming on suddenly. Setting the tablet aside, you moved to untangle yourself from your blanket and sit up.

It proved difficult as that tightness in your groin pulled and prompted your full attention. You moved your hand to grasp your penis gently and run your thumb down the length; you’d done it in the last when this happened, and knew that it felt good, and knew that if you just ignored it, it’d bother you until you did this. Why did it do that though?

You looked up toward the entry hallway when you heard the door’s lock disengage. “Hey,” you called as the door’s telltale opening hiss floated down the entry hall, then booted footsteps as it hissed closed.

Caleb’s face made a couple different emotions after he rounded the corner, ranging between light surprise and knowing. “Ah, that’s why you messaged me,” he said with mirth in his tone.

“Sorry, I know it’s really early and super out of the blue,” you replied sheepishly.

He chuckled. “No, that’s totally okay—I get it, I’m the perfect person to message about it. I felt the exact same way when I got here, but I didn’t have anyone to ask. I eventually got up the courage to ask my fellow medics. Lea almost bust a hernia laughing.”

You winced at trying to imagine asking anyone other than Caleb; it definitely helped that he knew exactly what it was like, and you weren’t sure how to convey that gratefulness to him. “What even, is the point of it? I woke up like this.”

“Yeah that’s super normal. There’s no point to it, but the body relaxes during sleep, and can direct blood into the penis when you’re dreaming—that’s how it happens. It’s actually a pretty good sign, shows you’re not stressed and actually comfortable enough for it to happen. Must be some good meds we have you on, then,” he said wryly.

You snorted. That prompted you to think of the previous times it’d happened—had you really been not stressed enough in the past?

He leaned up against the wall next to him, and pointed to you still entertaining the appendage. “Use more palm.”

You furrowed your brow at him in question.

He made a gripping pose with his outstretched hand. “It’ll feel better if you use more of your hand, more skin-to-skin contact. And move your whole hand up and down the length—it’ll seem weird at first because of how the skin slides, but trust me.”

Trusting him, you adjusted your grip, and tried the motion he described. Oh that did feel good. A couple of repetitions built up the sensation enough to quicken your heartbeat and your breath, and you reflexively closed your eyes to savor the feeling, biting your lip without thinking about it. Why the fuck did Eden keep something like this from you? In the process of the motion, your thumb brushed over the tip of your penis, which sent such a pleasant shock of a sensation through your body that you reflexively let out a vocalized breath.

The sound startled you, and you paused, eyes flying back open. Caleb shifted his weight where he stood, and cleared his throat. “Sorry,” you apologized apprehensively.

He shook his head. “No, you’re—” he stopped himself before he could start the word “fine”, but you could tell that’s what he meant to say. He seemed conflicted, not looking at you, and you watched him for a few moments before he spoke again. “Can I join you?”

“What?” you asked reflexively, and not just a little bit confused.

He pointedly wasn’t looking at you, then turned his eyes to you. “Typically… Folks having sex, or playing with themselves, arouse others to want to have sex, or play with themself,” he explained. Oh shit did you— Your eyes trailed down to see that his jumpsuit had a bump at the groin where there wasn’t one before. He pulled his little tablet a bit out of his pocket, and glanced at it before letting it drop back into place. "Your moan got me… But… I’ve got time if you want me to show you how sex can work.”

Your face felt hot at the proposition—though, you weren’t sure why. “Um. Sure.”

You watched, bewildered, as, at your approval, Caleb stooped down to unlace his boots just enough to kick them off. He caught your questioning look, and said, “Our bodies are gonna get closer than Eden ever wanted to see us, but it’s worth it.”

You took a deep breath that didn’t seem to get you enough air. “Okay… How?”

He nodded his head toward you. “Lay back on your bed. It’ll be the easiest way for me to show you, especially since you missing an arm is just gonna make you completely off balance if you aren’t the one laying down.”

You were extremely aware of how hot your face was, and how fast your breathing was. You weren’t sure what exactly he was planning, and it sounded incredibly vulnerable, but you did as he instructed, opting to trust your Brother. As you did so, he unzipped his jumpsuit, pulling his arms out of it and letting it fall to the floor with a clatter from whatever was in his pockets.

Nudity had never been a stranger to you; you were raised with communal showers and communal nude sleeping with your Brothers, but what was strange, was suddenly finding that nudity to be more than just nudity. Whatever emotional state that your body was in, simply from having that pleasurable jolt from your penis, was making it hard for you to not look at Caleb’s newly nude body. He looked like he had never left Eden; his musculature was sculpted and defined, and it made you wonder if he still kept to the Sons’ workout routine. The lines of his torso ran down into his thighs in a tantalizing way, which drew your eyes to his penis; freed from his jumpsuit, it stood with a slight curve toward his left hip, and it bounced lightly as he stepped toward where you laid enraptured. Why was that so appealing? The instinct was so hardwired that it was hard to follow the train of thought of why you were even asking why.

Want. That was a word that you didn’t understand the meaning of until this moment. After so many years being told what to do, to have, to be, want had been thoroughly shoved out of your head as a possibility that could be fulfilled. Was that why this felt so vulnerable? He’d asked you if you wanted him to show you, and you hadn’t understood the weight of that question until he put one knee on the bed next to your thigh, and swung his other knee over you to straddle your legs, kneeling over but also mostly sitting upon them.Permission was what he’d asked you for with his phrasing, you realized, but now you experienced it as desire. You had no idea you’d wanted this to happen until now.

His thighs were warm on yours, pressing down with a good deal of his weight onto them. It felt familiar—you’d been pinned by your Brothers during tousling before, and while that familiarity was comforting, this felt strangely more than. Your eyes flicked between his body and his face—you had to wrestle your own instincts to keep your focus on his face for instructions and cues, and you were losing. Miserably. At least he seemed to be doing the same, as his hands moved to run over your chest and stomach, the touch both fleeting and deep as he explored your own muscles with his fingertips—the feeling was electric, and caused you to squirm slightly beneath his touch. It was so unlike touches you were familiar with, and yet you wanted more. You moved your hand to his knee, taking cue from him that touching was okay, and threaded your fingers into his coat of thigh hair in search of feeling his tight cords of muscle just below the skin.

“I—” he tried to start, his voice breathy. “Sorry… I—ever since I learned about sex, I’ve, wondered what it would’ve been like to have sex with one of my Brothers. Grew up, surrounded by each other, but. Look, don’t touch... I’m, not being a very good teacher am I?” he gave a breathy chuckle, a stupid grin on his face.

“You’re fine,” you breathed in return, “I, think I’m in the same headspace. No wonder Eden didn’t want us to know.”

“Not even Father would have been able to get us off of each other,” he laughed. “Put a bunch of young people in peak physical fitness together and expect them to not be attracted to one another, if they knew what that was? Nah, no way.”

You mirrored his laugh as he took his hands off you and instead placed them on the bed along either side of you. The movement made him shift his weight off your legs and forward into his arms, allowing his penis to brush up against yours in a deft movement as he held his torso in a hover over yours. Your laughter turned into a moan that originated deep in your chest, and forced out with far more volume than you could have ever intended to leave you voluntarily. The soft skin of his penis rubbing against yours sent overwhelming sparks of pleasure through your body, especially as he repeated his movement, and definitely didn’t seem to be doing so on accident.

You quickly lost all capacity to think as he continued to repeat that movement, hardly registering tipping your head back at the sensation, allowing yourself a better angle to breathe against the moans escaping your throat. The longer he continued, the harder it was to breathe, and you tried feebly to place your hand against where his thigh and hip connected as if to hold him back, your body begging for air and a break from the unending pleasure. Not that you really wanted it to stop.

He seemed to figure out what you were trying to do, and did pause in his movements, but the lack of the pleasureful sensation dragged a pathetic whine from your chest, and you dug your fingers into his thigh pleadingly. “No, please,” you whined, but did get clear and full breaths from the break.

He was breathing hard too, and he wore a stupid smile as he met your eyes. “Breathe, Simon; Margie’ll kill me if I kill you,” he laughed breathily. “Fuck, I hope you don’t have a neighbor on the other side of this wall. I didn’t realize you’d be so vocal.”

“Fuck, Caleb,” you growled, gritting your teeth at the ongoing absence of his touch.

“That’s what it’s called,” he laughed.

Your body screamed to move, to get that pleasureful sensation back. Quasi-voluntarily, your hips rolled upward in an instinctual motion, your brain testing what would happen if it did that—it was rewarded with more of that decadent pleasure, the full length of your penis sliding along the length of his, eliciting a surprised pleasured vocalization from him as well. You bit your lip and gripped his hip tightly as you continued that motion, choking back as many moans as you could focus on fighting while also trying to lose yourself again to that pleasant thoughtlessness he’d had you in a bit ago—if you could demonstrate you were breathing just fine, maybe he wouldn’t stop again.

You registered him chuckling breathlessly at your desperation. He rejoined you in continuing his movement, and you gave up the fight with controlling your breath. What felt like both a blissful eternity and just a few strokes, he moved to press his hips into yours, allowing his weight to try and control your hip movement, but that really only gave a new angle for your penis to brush up against the soft skin of his stomach as well as his penis, and pleasantly pressed his testicles’ mass into yours, which combined was just too much pleasure for your brain to comprehend.

A tightness gathered in your genitals, and released in what you could only describe as an explosion of ecstasy, which repeated a second time, then once more as a finale.

Thought came back to your brain at first in a trickle, then a rush, like a fan blowing away smoke. You’d never felt anything like that before… Your body was exhausted, your muscles uncoiling as though you’d been working out, but your brain demanded more, and that pulled your attention to Caleb. His motion had stopped and he was hovering over you, stock still with his muscles tense. You both were still interlocked as you had been, his hips pressed firmly into yours, which by itself was still immensely pleasing, and you registered that although he was not moving, his penis was rubbing against yours in small twitches—there was also a new sensation, the hardly perceptible feeling of your stomach being dripped on by something warm and viscous. He sighed with a heady groan, and his muscles loosened as he moved to sit on your thighs again.

You both were breathing hard, and he was watching you with a soft look on his face—you weren’t sure what yours was doing. Your eyes wandered from his face, and while they trailed along the lines of his torso just as they had earlier, you recognized that you did so with less hunger, and more curiosity. There was a clarity in your thoughts that you didn’t realize had been missing, and it demonstrated itself as you observed both of your bodies; you could see now what more than just nudity was, but the instinct had retreated back to mostly just seeing him as nude. It occurred to you that this was the first time you’d ever seen someone else’s penis behaving in this way, and it was curious to watch his deflate back to how you expected one to appear—yours, curiously, was still standing at attention.

The thought was cut short by noticing that there were puddles of that translucent white fluid on your stomach—you recognized it from previous attempts to get that stiffness to go away, but there was so much more of it this time. You looked to Caleb—he was still watching you with a soft, dumb look on his face, like he wasn’t thinking. “What is that?” you asked him, gesturing to it.

That seemed to snap him out of whatever reverie he was in. “Ah, uh, shit,” he muttered as he got his head back, then looked to what you were referring to. “Oh. That’s semen. Lemme, lemme get you cleaned up, that shit sets like cement if not washed right away.” He shifted his weight to pull his leg over you and put his foot back to the floor, balancing a bit awfully as he tried to get his feet under him, like he was drunk. As he moved to get up, you pulled your hand away to get clear—you didn’t realize you’d been petting the hair on his thigh as you’d been studying him.

“What is it?” you repeated.

“What time is it?” he asked, seeming to ignore you as he trotted over to the bathroom.

You snorted, but reached for your little tablet. “0633,” you called to him.

There was the sound of running water from the sink faucet. “It’s the stuff we make that contributes to kid-making,” he said cryptically, before coming back out of the bathroom with a washing cloth that appeared to be dam . Before you could ask what the fuck he meant by that, he continued. “So, as I said in my message earlier, there’s folks who have a different set of genital body parts than us. I know you’re gonna think I’m fucking with you, but I swear I’m telling the truth, you gotta trust me—I thought the folks teaching me this were insane when I first learned about it, but, turns out it’s just Eden being shitty and not teaching this stuff in the first place.” You did watch him skeptically as he came over and gently used the cloth to wipe up the fluid from your skin—the cloth was chilly, but his touch was gentle and it made you give a slightly stressed breath. “These folks, they’ve got an organ in their lower abdomen that makes the other half of what makes a kid. When we have internal sex with someone who has that organ, there’s a chance that those folks can then have those two carriers of genetic material form a kid inside them, then they gotta grow it over a longass time, and then expel the kid after it’s done growing.”

He let you sit with that, even more baffled than before he said anything, as he headed back to the bathroom, where the sound of water echoed again. “What?” you asked him as he came back out.

“Yeah, uh. Apparently, it can be really hard on the body, and takes a lot of nutrients, so besides just making another mouth to feed, it’s also requiring the carrying person to expend a lot of extra resources, so, it’s really no wonder that Eden didn’t want us doing any of that.” He moved to sit beside you on the bed, and you scooted to give him room to do so, then moved to sit up yourself—though, the stiffness in your groin pulled again and made it difficult. He seemed to notice. “Still aroused?”

“Uh,” you weren’t sure what to say. “I, I don’t have that same… hungry fog in my head as before, but, I… definitely want more,” you admitted.

He gave you a knowing smile. “Now that you’ve had a taste, it’s a need.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, he really did put the concept into words.

“It’ll take a little while until your body’s ready to go again, but you’ve got time,” his smile softened. “I gotta get going soon or I’d offer to go another round.”

Your face got a little warm at the thought. “No, that’s, fine. Thank you for coming by and explaining things to me.”

“No problem, Brother. And, any time—I’m not at the medical center, of course—let me know if you’d like to go for another round,” he offered with a slightly wry tone.

He certainly wasn't helping the tightness in your groin. That brought a thought to the forefront of your mind though; “W—… How does someone, go about finding someone else to do this with? You sound like you’ve got a bunch of experience in it.”

He nodded. “Some folks are really forward about it. They’re really aware of the types of folks they’re interested in having sex with, and will just, straight up ask. Other times, if you fancy someone, you gotta be the forward one and ask them. Like I’ve said before, unlike on Eden, folks here are pretty open to being physically close to each other. That’s just the culture here. It feels super weird at first, I remember, but eventually it gets to feel really nice, because it’s not so lonely.”

“Fancy… How did you learn to know when you.. fancy someone?” It sounded like a stupid question and it felt stupid leaving your mouth, but, everything felt so new and confusing that it was really the only way you could think to ask the question.

He shrugged. “There’s, no real rhyme or reason to it. When I first learned about sex and after I’d first had it, it’s like… it unlocked something in my brain that now I looked at people differently. Like, everyone has potential, but some will just register in your brain like they’re going to be more fun to have sex with. Those are the ones that if I like their personality, I’ll probably ask them for a round, and see what their reaction to that is. ..Which, by the way, what’d you think?” He made a little nod to himself. “I have to imagine you had fun, with you still erect.”

You gave a startled chuckle, your face suddenly feeling hot—were you embarrassed? What was embarrassing about that? “That felt… so good…”

He chuckled. “I could tell. I’m surprised you’re not hoarse.” Your face fell into a sheepish expression, which only made him laugh. “It’s all good, some folks are super vocal. As you get used to it, and the sensation is less new, that vocalness might come down in intensity. Better hope for any possible neighbors that that’s true,” he said wryly.

You gave him a tight, sheepish smile as you thought about the whole situation for a moment. “I’d, tried rubbing it when it happened before in the past, but it was nothing like this...”

“There’s something about having sex with someone else that just, makes the brain go crazy about it. Like, because it doesn’t know what’s coming, it registers differently,” he replied.

You gave him a gentle smile. “I, can't imagine trying to do that with anyone other than a Brother for the first time. Thank you.”

He mirrored your smile. “And, what, leave Simon, the Brother we all looked up to, to fend for himself, and to pass on an amazing opportunity? You’re the exact sort I meant when I think of someone I’d like to be forward with.” His smile morphed into another one of those stupid smiles he’d had before. “Y’know, you look great with long hair.”

You gave him a shy smile at his complements—then you registered what he said at first. “Wait—what do you mean by that? You all looked up to me?”

“You were Father’s favorite Son, he practically told us he wanted us to emulate you. Of course we all looked up to you,” Caleb said with a strange seriousness, his face falling at the memory. “‘Simon does it this way, why don’t you be more like Simon.’” He mimicked Father’s intonation almost perfectly. “‘Simon did this thing this week, I expect you to do the same.’ Or, ‘Simon was able to do this other thing, why can't you.’” He gave you a look that you could only interpret as tired. “You were our role model, and Father’s favorite tool to push us to our limits.”

You gave him an apologetic look, though it was wrought with concern. “I had no idea… Meanwhile, Father was nothing but critical of me, too. He only ever wanted better from me, nothing I ever did was good enough for him…” You were quiet for several moments. “Maybe that’s part of how I grew so disillusioned with him. What a two-faced asshole…”

Caleb’s face fell further, and he moved to put his hand on your knee comfortingly—you felt compelled to put your hand on his, and did so. He grasped your fingers gently. “Well. We aren't there anymore, and we don’t have to deal with him again.”

You nodded at that. You looked to him and gave him a serious look. “Don’t ever think you need to compare yourself to me, again. Not that, you can't surpass me at just about anything, now.” You said with a slightly wry tone and smile, moving to lift what was left of your left shoulder in gesture.

He snorted. “Nah, Bro, once you’re back up and running at full steam, you’ll be back to running circles around me.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” you said, giving his hand a tight grip. “I don’t want you to think I’m better than you—especially since Father didn’t seem to actually think so.” He gave you a frown, but putting it that way seemed to get your point through to him. “Besides, didn’t you just tell me that apparently the only way I can have sex is to be the one laying down, because otherwise I’ll be off balance? That doesn’t seem real better than you, huh?” you said with a dry wryness.

He gave you a small smile that grew into a wider, wryer one as it progressed, then he snorted as he really thought about it. “Fair. I do have that on you.” He thought about it for a few more moments. “I’ll, have to give it some thought, but. I might be able to think up some ways you might be able to have sex and not be resigned to the one laying down.” You watched him curiously. “There’s lots of ways to have sex, that was just one way. Everyone’s got different methods, positions, poses, and skill. You’re just as likely to find someone who pleasures you even better than I did, as you are to find someone who’s absolute shit at it.”

You cocked a brow at him. Better than he had pleasured you? How could that even be possible.

He glanced flittingly between your face, your still erect penis, and your little tablet sitting on the side table, his expression growing increasingly conflicted. As your brows knitted watching him, he reached over with his free hand to tap on your tablet—it lit up as it usually did when you handled it, but it didn’t open completely. He seemed satisfied to see the time on the face though—0643. He looked into your eyes. “I don’t have much time.. but if you’d be up to letting me shower with you, I could probably make it to work on time.” You nodded curiously—that wasn't anything new for Brothers. “I want to show you more.”

Your face grew hot again. Want. “Uh.. What, time. Do you have to be there?” you asked, your breathing increasing in speed again.

“0800. Sharp.”

“Don’t get in trouble for me,” were the words that came out of your mouth, but you knew your face was screaming “yes, please”.

He gave you a wry smile. “Guess you’ll have to be quick then.”

“Uh—” his words poked something in your primal brain that felt both like a challenge, and a bid for your obedience. It felt tantalizing to fall into, but, defiantly, you asked breathily; “Didn’t—didn’t you say something, ‘bout, bodies not being ready or—something?”

“They can still be pleasured while on their down time,” he said with mirth. “May I?”

You took a shaky breath, but nodded.

He gave you a smile that read somewhat predatory—like someone who had just won their favorite game that they knew was rigged. He moved to retrieve his hand from yours, and though you’d rather not let it go, he made it make sense a moment after; “Here, sit on the edge of the bed with me,” he requested.

You scooted to sit beside him—your hand freed being necessary to do so—your thigh pressing against his. He looped his left arm around your lower back loosely, his hand gentle against your skin as he took care to be wary of where your injuries were still healing. Uncertain of what he was planning to do, you let your hand rest upon his thigh, fingers weaving into his hair there.

He leaned his weight into you as he reached over with his right hand to expertly grip your penis. The initial touch pulled a surprised noise from you—his grip was stronger than you’d gripped yourself, but it wasn’t unpleasant, and the way he spaced his fingers down the length felt strangely tantalizing versus how you’d held it earlier.

Then he started to move his hand up and down the length, like he’d instructed earlier, and it pulled an involuntary sound from your chest immediately. The tightness of his grip on your penis did make you aware of what he’d warned of earlier—the skin sliding did feel odd at first, but as that was where all the pleasure came from, it was easy to ignore the oddity of it. And he was generous with the movement—the heel of his palm not only momentarily touched against your hip, but his hand traveled the full length down so that his thumb and forefinger pulled the skin up over the tip of your penis, which is when his actions elicited the most sounds from you.

It was hard to think the longer he continued, but it wasn’t the full thoughtlessness he had you in earlier. You could register that he was humming a continuous tone softly, as his head had nearly rested itself on your shoulder as he focused, his hair close enough to tickle your beard. You watched lazily as he pleasured you so simply yet so thoroughly, your hand gripping his thigh at the most pleasurable moments, until a little bead of that white fluid (what had he called it earlier? semen?) gathered at the tip of your penis.

He stopped humming and lifted his head from where it had fallen, then stopped his motion and took his hand back, which enticed a confused sound from you. He carefully moved to take his weight back from against you; you had to fix your posture too so as not to fall over—you hadn’t realized how far you’d been leaning into him in return.

He gave you a startlingly playful look. “Scoot forward a bit more off the edge of the bed,” he instructed; feeling softly betrayed that he’d stopped, you weren’t sure you wanted to obey—but, you decided to trust him, not sure where he was going with this. You did as he requested, scooting until most of your thighs were off the edge of the mattress, which felt a little precarious.

He nodded once, then scooted forward himself, though all the way off and onto the floor to stand on his knees. He stepped on his knees around to face you, and moving his hands to rest upon your knees, he gently tugged them away from one another in a request to open your legs. You did as he requested, and he stepped in to kneel in the opened space—your face grew hot again, though you were thoroughly perplexed at what he was up to.

He looked up at you with a strangely serious expression. “Couple rules: first and foremost, don’t grab my hair or head.” He waited for your affirmative, if inquisitive, nod to continue. “Do your damnedest to control your hips—shouldn’t be too hard with you sitting the way you are, but I gotta make it clear.” He waited again for your nod. “And last but most importantly: I need you to breathe.”

You took a deep, shuddery breath, extremely aware of how hot your face was, but you gave him an affirmative nod.

“No grabbing, stay still, and breathe. Got it?” he repeated.

You nodded more and more vigorously.

He gave you a pointed look. “I’m trusting you, Brother.”

Watching him with almost concern at what could possibly need a triple affirmative on the rules he was setting, he made it quite clear very quickly.

Caleb dipped his head to press his lips against the inside of your right thigh, just above where one of the graft donation sites was scabbed over. The sensation was unlike touching your penis, but nonetheless just as pleasurable, and sent a shock through your leg and hip into your groin, the sensation stealing your breath.

Breathe, you remembered, and as you drew a new breath, he pressed another kiss to your thigh closer to your body, his hair brushing your penis. The breath you took forced its way out of your chest as a moan, and you had to remind yourself to breathe once again as he repeated the motion a third time even closer to your body, his beard brushing your penis this time. He lifted just his eyes to look at you as he moved his head to repeat the process on your left thigh, and though you were quickly losing the ability to think due to the pleasure, it definitely felt as though he was testing you, seeing if you were going to follow the rules he set.

That he was, was your last conscious thought before he placed his hands on your hips, fingers gripping your sides with pleasant pressure, his arms pressed with a heavy but pleasing weight against your thighs, in a way that you quickly realized was him trying to hold you down as he moved to focus on your penis.

Your brain didn’t have time to catch up before he had opened his mouth to let his tongue run softly against the tip of your penis. Oh that was why he stressed about the breathing part. And the still part. The moan that loosed from you could better be described as a wail, and your body fought for oxygen in the wake of it. You could feel his hands tighten on your sides, begging you to breathe. Your body ached for him to do it again, and he obliged in short order, once you’d gotten another deep breath into your chest. The second lick went about as well as the first, fighting for breath against a body that didn’t seem to want it the way it reacted to the pleasure. His breath was hot against your delicate skin, and the tip of his tongue just slightly explored the slit in the tip of your penis, nearly making you jump from the pleasurable shock of the sensation.

You were beyond light headed when he decided to stop neglecting the rest of your penis, and moved on to running his tongue down the full length. The soft and hot and wet was such a delectable combination that if you had any thoughts, they’d have left yesterday. You gripped the sheets of your bed so hard that you could feel your nails in your palm, and your ribs ached from breathing so hard.

It wasn’t conscious a thought, but some part of your subconscious understood what he meant by you being off balance without your left arm around about the time that he stopped teasing you with licks and moved to cradle the underside of your penis with his tongue, then bring your entire length into his mouth. You leaned into your right arm, trying desperately to stay upright, and you breathed the hardest yet, ribs protesting loudly even over the pleasure. His soft tongue never stopped sliding effortlessly against you, rolling you against the insides of his cheeks and the roof of his mouth—hell, even the sudden hardness of his teeth brushing against you was a pleasant if startling surprise—and you savored the short while that he had you completely engulfed in that decadently hot, wet space.

He retreated nearly as quickly as he’d taken you in, letting his lips and tongue drag down your length as he went. He turned his eyes to yours as he parted his lips and let you go, obviously doing so to get some air.

“By The Father, Caleb…” you swore breathily, unable to do anything else as your body pleaded for more and your lungs fought desperately for air themselves, ribs screaming.

He laughed once as he caught his breath. “He’d never approve, and you know it, Simon,” he said with mirth before opening his mouth wide to take you in again.

You whimpered as he did so, trying desperately not to let your hips rock in the way they instinctively wanted to. Once more receiving the decadent pleasure overwhelmed your brain, and with very little further input, that tightness you’d experienced earlier gathered in your genitals, bringing a sudden stillness to your fight as the tension spilled over into that explosion of pleasure, then a second, and a third.

When thought came back to your brain, first you registered the piercing pain in your ribs. Oops, maybe you’d overdone it… Second, was that Caleb’s soft tongue and lips were still in contact with the tip of your penis, and not in the same way that you had last registered. You took a deep, painful breath to get some more clarity in your head, and looked down to see what he was doing—you weren’t sure, as he was finishing up whatever it was and moved to part from you as soon as you looked down.

He moved to sit on his heels and look up at you, taking one of his hands back from your hip to wipe at his mouth. In the aftermath, your muscles uncoiled from how tense they had been, and you couldn’t keep yourself upright anymore, letting yourself down more or less gently onto your back as your arm gave out. You sighed audibly, which provoked a laugh from Caleb. He rubbed your thigh he still had a hand on, and used it to prop up on and stand.

“What the fuck,” you breathed, looking up at him.

That prompted another laugh from him, and you watched him tap on your little tablet again, checking the time. Seemingly satisfied with what time it was, he moved to sit beside you again, though he sat with one knee crossed on the bed to be able to look at you, his shin pressed up against your thigh. “You look dead,” he joked.

You let out another sigh. “I feel dead. Am I dead?” He laughed. “No, I can’t be. My ribs hurt too much to be dead. ...In seriousness, I—I may have reinjured my ribs…”

His face fell a bit and took on a look of concern. “I hope not… Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No—no, that. Yes,” was all you could say, nodding lazily, which prompted a chuckle from him. “That… That was worth going insane, and almost getting eaten by a monster, in a rust bucket at the bottom of a blood ocean. And losing my arm. And getting fucked up mutations.”

A wide and unsure but amused smile crept across his face. “I’ll… take that as a complement?”

“Yes,” you stressed, reaching to put your hand on his thigh. “Yes. Fuck. Yes.” In the wake of coming down off the high of all the effort, you let your eyes shut and simply take in the lingering sensations and emotions.

He placed his hand on yours, and squeezed it gently. “I’m glad I could do that for you, Brother.” His tone was warm. You gave him a gentle smile in the darkness, exhaustion setting in and making it difficult to do little further. “I, don’t suppose then you’re up to joining me in the shower, huh?” his voice came from the darkness, this time with a bit of mirth.

You had to laugh, your ribs protesting angrily at the motion. “No, I… I think I’m gonna… sleep here a little while longer,” you said just above a mumble.

“Ah, more things Father would never have approved of, you lazy little brat,” Caleb joked, mimicking Father’s tone perfectly and pulling another painful laugh out of you. “I promise I’ll be quick, and leave most of your water for you,” he said with a light tone, moving to release your hand. You felt him instead move his hand to pass his palm over your thigh tenderly, being extra careful of where your graft donation sites were, then take his hand back and pick his weight up off the bed.

You moved to scrub your face with your hand as the sound of him plodding into the bathroom and turning the shower on floated over to you. It probably wasn't a good idea to try and sleep, but you at least needed to rest and regain your energy for a little while. How the fuck did that steal so much energy? Oh, but it felt so good… How was something like that even possible?

It did give you a chance to think things over with new, if tired, clarity. That hungry need was so overwhelming that it was a bit startling how desperate you were while it was overtaking you. Hopefully that wouldn’t be an every time thing, or even possibly something that happened outside an encounter like this. You simply didn’t know, and that was a little scary. Is that what Caleb had meant by “fancying” someone? It didn’t seem like it—how he had described “fancying” someone sounded more casual, perhaps passive. This, had not been passive, and it made you think to how you felt while looking at his nude body in that mindset, that, hungry need to be in contact with him, to touch him… It made your face warm as you thought about it, and caused a stir in your groin.

Desire… Want… Words in your general vocabulary that didn’t have much context, or, at least, good context, but they came to the forefront of your brain as the sound of the shower stopped. If want and desire were so bad, why did it feel so good? Ah. Eden… You sighed, of course it would be for the control factor. It was hard to think about defying what Father had taught you, but… Was all Father taught you, lies? The more examples of his teachings you thought of, the more it seemed true, which hurt to think about. How much of your life was a lie...?

You were glad you trusted your Brother on this, the more you thought about Father’s lies. The sanctity of the Brother bond was the only thing that felt real in the moment, as you began to feel untethered and uncertain of what was true and not. So you thought instead about the events of the morning, grounding yourself in reality by focusing on how painful your ribs were, how exhausted your muscles felt, and the Brother that said he wanted to stay and pleasure you more, even at risk of being late for the most important of obligations…

You opened your eyes to watch him as he plodded out of the bathroom, and reached for his jumpsuit on the floor. Though he had an extremely important obligation, you wanted him to stay, and you let yourself accept that you felt that way. Father be damned—at least you didn’t have to deal with him anymore. As Caleb zipped up his jumpsuit, he caught you watching him, and gave you a gentle grin at seeing you were awake. He moved to pick up his socks and boots, then stepped over to sit on the bed beside you. He did so closely, his hip and thigh pressed up against yours, and the touch felt pleasant in a different way, as though that touch reinforced your Brother bond just by being physically close. You moved to place your hand on his back, rubbing it gently as he stooped over to put his socks and boots on. He rewarded you with more of that soft humming he had made earlier, the vibrations in his chest subtle but comforting as you touched him.

As he straightened his back out, he adjusted his weight to turn and look to you, leaving his back unavailable for the most part to your touch, so you moved your hand to his clothed thigh. He still had a soft smile on his face, but it shifted to be a bit more serious before he spoke; “If those ribs don’t feel better by like, 1600, you come and see me at the medical center, okay? Now you got me worried that I did actually hurt you—by proxy—and I can get you a quick scan to see what’s going on.”

“I’ll let you know in a few hours if my med refresh doesn’t touch it, that’s coming up soon,” you said, your voice lazy and deep with lack of effort.

Something about how you said that brought the smile back to his face, and he nodded. “I gotta get going, but… One more, quick thing, before I do.” He seemed hesitant, but your curious look encouraged him; “Can I kiss you?”

You hadn’t gotten a kiss since your mom died. The thought would make you sad if you weren’t watching Caleb watch you with what you could only interpret as a hopeful expression. You remembered they were pleasant and reaffirming, but, did it have a different context in this case? But, sure, why not. You gave him a soft smile and a nod.

His smile widened in the way a little kid’s did when they were told they could do something they wanted to, and he shifted his weight so he was kneeling with one knee on the bed and pressed up against your thigh, his other leg extended to balance against the floor, and his arms, hands placed on either side of your chest, held him in a half-hover over you. He dipped his head down to level with yours, pressing his lips to yours in a practiced manner. The sensation was somewhat startling, as it was far more vulnerable feeling than you remembered, but there was still comfort and affirmation in the pleasant pressure. His lips were warm and soft, and yours fit together with his in a satisfying connection, your mustaches brushing together and intermingling, tickling with the movement. He made that soft humming sound for a few seconds, giving your hand enough time to find purchase in the loose fabric of his jumpsuit near his chest before he parted with you.

There was that want again… You watched him, sure there was disappointment on your face, because he gave you an apologetic expression—especially as you both realized you’d gotten a hold of his clothing in a bid to stay. You let him go with hesitation.

He gave you a stupid smile as he stood upright, seeming hesitant to go himself. “Thanks, Simon,” he said softly before moving to leave.

“Thank you, Caleb,” you called after him.

Just before he rounded the corner to leave your apartment, he hesitated in his gait, losing a half-step of progress. You watched, sure he was going to turn back, but he seemed to resist the urge, and continued until you heard the telltale hiss of the front door open, his boot steps retreat, and the door hiss shut behind him.

“The best way to learn to make choices, is simply to do so. How have you been selecting meals in the Commons?” Doctor Beckett asked.

You sat with him in his office, him seated in a comfortable looking old wooden chair that rocked back and forth if he moved too much, with a tablet on an armature held out in front of him, and you seated on a comfortable couch, surrounded by pillows of various shapes. It was a strange lap of luxury that when you’d first started going to see him in person, felt like too much for you to be allowed to touch, but the more often you spent time there working with him, the more relaxed you felt around the opulence. You had a flat, blue, circle-shaped pillow on your lap that your arm rested on, and you were sat cross-legged as you thought about his question.

“Um… I’ve been taking a lot of suggestions from Caleb of what to try, or even asking the stall owners their suggestions. Because I’m so unfamiliar with the foods here, other than that, there’s, no good way to make any decisions, other than purely going by macro values,” you shrugged.

He nodded and typed on his tablet following your response, something you’d become quite familiar with him doing. “Have you found yourself gravitating to any specific foods? Any dishes you continually return to?”

You had to think about that—you didn’t really keep track, and you tipped your head as you thought harder about it. “I’m… not sure,” you replied, and moved to retrieve your PII from your pocket.

The Doctor raised his hand in a “wait” motion. “No need to check your tracker, I was simply curious. Though, that reply tells me that, you haven’t found anything that was truly stand-out. I ask, because finding things you like, and returning to them consistently, is a type of choice. Your brain and body chooses to return to that previous decision because it enjoyed it.”

You sat with that revelation, and your hand absentmindedly fiddled with the pillow under it’s grasp. Going off his example with food felt, incorrect, or at least the application of it did. Your brain returned to that early morning with Caleb, how you wanted to spend more time with him, for him to not have to leave—that felt different to his example. “I… Think it may also just be, me wanting to try new things? There’s so much that’s new, and I’m constantly finding new, good foods that I’m more, chasing that newness, exploring what’s available. It’s nice, and unique,” you replied.

He smiled. “That is a very fair assessment,” he said as he moved to record that. “How have you been spending time, when not fulfilling an obligation?”

You moved to scratch at your beard. “Resting, for the most part. Sleeping, or just relaxing in my apartment, or sitting and people watching in the Commons. Slowly exploring the station to familiarize myself with the layout, just, walking, trying to regain the stamina I’ve lost from being down for so long.”

He nodded especially at the last part, and looked to you after taking notes. “Do you feel that you’re not getting enough exercise with your physical therapy?”

“No, it’s not that,” you shook your head. “I mean. They’re really focusing on getting my head and hand to work together, so, sort of, but, that’s… Not why I go on walks.” Your brows furrowed as you traced the outline of where the graft cut into your beard in thought. “I… Guess I miss being on patrol. I used to walk the length of Eden several times in a single day, if not for patrolling, then to physically check in on folks, or, to go to a task.”

He nodded and notated that. “Did you ever end up trying the entertainment media library?”

You looked away from him. “Not… really. I got some suggestions from folks to try, but, Caleb and I sat together and tried a couple but nothing seemed to stick. I don’t… know that we really have the understanding for it, Doctor. Maybe we just, don’t have it in us, since we’ve grown up without it.”

He shook his head, but was quiet for several moments as he made a thinking motion. “Perhaps, then, you should combine browsing the media library with exercising your choice.” Your brows furrowed again as you looked to him with questioning. “It sounds to me like you have been letting folks make a lot of decisions for you, which is something that you’re used to. That includes asking folks for recommendations—you are not actively practicing in making a choice at that point, simply allowing someone to tell you what to try.” He paused to let that sink in. “I believe that you should take some of your rest time to really browse the library, read a bit about each entry, and if something sticks out to you as interesting, you can save it to a list to peruse later. That way, you’ve narrowed down the incredibly large amount of media that we have, into a more bite-sized ability to make another choice for yourself later—you can then, when you are tired of looking for something, then exercise choosing something to consume.”

You watched him quietly as he explained, trying to internalize that.

“I think where you’re failing to understand the importance of consuming media, is not to find something that others like, but something that you like. As I’ve mentioned before, media can be very personal, and while media can be enjoyed by many people as a shared interest, it’s… a lot like how you’re trying new foods. You’re taking advice from others, rather than selecting things you find interesting. I do understand that you’re lacking context for a lot of things, because they’re all so new, but, the crux of learning to choose for yourself, is in trusting your own judgment; if something seems interesting, no matter how small that attention-grab is, that is your brain signaling to you that it wants something. Try to recognize that instinct in yourself, because that is how you choose; you can choose to follow your interests, or you can choose to follow what others tell you.”

You sat with that, fiddling with the pillow absentmindedly. When he put it that way, it made you realize how little choice you’d ever had—clearly, you recognized it, but it wasn’t until he described it with that dichotomy, that it truly made sense. “I… guess the first thing then, is… ever recognizing that instinct. I’m, failing to even think of when I recognized it before.”

He gave you a gentle smile. “Perhaps, then, that’s a good exercise for you to do today; try to actively choose a food for lunch, and try to recognize when your brain gravitates to, or is interested in something. And later this afternoon, when you are resting, try practicing that with the media library. You don’t have to actually try consuming anything, just practice reading media descriptions, and recognizing when one stands out, or is interesting to you.”

You nodded, but still were uncertain, and he seemed to pick up on it.

“Do you have a favorite color, Son?” he asked.

You looked to him, your brows furrowing in curiousness at his question. “A what?”

He gave an almost defeated smile and moved to type on his tablet. You felt your brows knit at that, unsure the significance. “A favorite color. Any specific color that stands out to you? Perhaps, feels more comfortable to look at than the others, or feels homely, or makes you happy?”

“Um…” You glanced between the pillows scattered around you; they came in all sorts of colors, and as you perused them, none really stood out as you thought about it. There was an orange square one that your eyes lingered on for longer, though.

“What of the purple pillow you’re holding? You seem to gravitate to that one each time you come see me,” he said.

You looked down to it. “Oh, I, didn’t really think of it. I like the shape? It’s comfortable.” Wait, what color did he saythe pillow was?

He nodded and noted that. “That’s a choice,” he pointed out, sounding chipper. “Gravitating to, and returning to that one specifically, is definitely a choice that you’ve made.”

You sat staring at the pillow. “Huh. I guess.” Reluctantly, you moved to pick up the orange square one. “I guess if I had to choose a color, I like this orange.”

He moved to take notes, but paused and looked between you and the pillow. “I’m sorry, Son, repeat that?”

You sighed at his reaction, confirming what you’d thought you’d heard just a few moments ago. “...This pillow is red, isn’t it?” you asked with a defeated tone, holding aloft the orange pillow.

His brows raised and he nodded. “It is.”

You set it down and looked to the blue pillow in your lap. “This one’s purple, you said?”

He nodded again. “It is. Son, are you color blind?”

You let your eyes close, mentally getting ready for an argument. “A little bit.”

“You’ve known this?”

You nodded, opening your eyes again to look at him, defeatedly. “It’s just reds and purples. Look,” you set the looked-range-actually-red pillow down and reached for a couple of other pillows, tapping them as you called out their colors—he didn’t correct you at all in doing so. “Green’s a bit harder to tell sometimes, but I always get greens right, even if sometimes they look too yellow. It’s—it’s never bothered me, other than when folks correct me. I function just fine, since there’s next to nothing purple, ever, and both red and orange are alert colors, so I’ve never ran into issues with it.”

“And, you’ve had this, your entire life?” he asked carefully.

“Yeah. Kids back on Mars used to tease me about it, so when I moved to Eden, I kept my mouth shut about it, until inevitably… this happens,” you said, gesturing to the square, looked-orange-actually-red pillow, “and I get teased, or harshly corrected about it. I, tend to not talk about colors because of it,” you said despondently. “There’s, certain things I know are red, like,” you chuckled uneasily, “blood. So I know to refer to them as the correct color when it comes up.” You shook your head. “Yeah, this, wasn’t caused by the mutations.” He nodded and took some notes, which made you nervous. “Is… that going to go on my file, or is that for your notes…?” you asked carefully.

He looked up to you. “It’s a disability, Simon. There are enough things that must be distinguished between red and orange that it may affect you—”

You let your head flop back against the back of the couch with a defeated sigh. “There’s nothing that can be done to help me with it, and just telling people is going to make them irritated with me, and make me irritated when it’s inevitably brought up. I swear, I’ve never had any issues with it, other than people being mad at me for not being able to see a color.”

He was quiet for several moments. “Did Father know about it?”

You studied the ceiling as you thought about that. “I’m… not sure actually, I don’t think so. I think at most, one of my Uncles did.”

“How many of your Brothers knew?”

“Just a few. Ones who found out just like this.”

He began to tap on the arm of his chair, which drew your attention and made you pick up your head to look to him. He was doing so in thought, watching you with unsure eyes. “I’m supposed to report this… But, you seem to be so opposed to it, that it will only actively make your life harder…”

“Please, Doctor, I swear, it’ll only cause me trouble,” you said with a begging tone.

His face took on an empathetic expression. “If it truly flew under the radar so well, that even leadership at Eden didn’t know… I’m inclined to believe that you’re perfectly functional with it. I’m still concerned though; everything here is new enough that if you do run into something you need to distinguish between red and orange, any supervisors you have will need to be aware of it to let you know about it.”

“Can, you let me do that? I’ve, learned how to navigate around that exact happenstance already, I know exactly what to say so it’s no trouble and no issue,” you pleaded.

He watched you with conflict on his face. “Can, I at least record it to your medical file? Most supervisors don’t look that over—”

“They will, mine,” you sighed heavily, gesturing to your missing arm.

Apology crossed his face. “How about… If I put in a note that you function perfectly fine without intervention?”

Your face was pained. It really seemed like there was no way around him adding it to your file. “That’s still going to label me as the weirdo that can't see two colors…”

He crossed his hands in a thoughtful way. “How about. The functionality note, and ‘do not mention unless asked by patient’?”

“Doctor, please… If it’s called to attention in any amount, it’s suddenly a problem. It’s never a problem until someone else makes it one. Look, I already have ways to work around it and with it, ways that are unobtrusive and don’t make people think I’m an idiot. Please?” you gripped the pillow in your lap. “I’m already having enough trouble with having lost an arm. I don’t need another thing held over my head.”

He watched you quietly, deep in thought. Eventually, he moved to his tablet, and seemed to begin deleting text. You watched him quietly, your brows knitted, but the fact he didn’t seem to begin typing again made you relax just a little bit.

“Very well, Son, but… If adding it to your file would have been key knowledge that a supervisor needed, such as if something goes wrong due to the lack of that knowledge, know I’m going to be complicit…” he said carefully, looking to you.

Your shoulders relaxed—you didn’t even know they’d been creeping up toward your ears—but your hand gripped the pillow hard, and you nodded. “I understand, Doctor, thank you… I promise, in all the years since the Quiet Rapture, I’ve not had a single thing go wrong because I can't see the color red.”

He watched you quietly for several moments. “For my curiosity, how do you handle not knowing whether a color is red or orange?”

You quietly shrugged. “I… don’t care, that’s the thing. …Because I know that I’m just more likely to fuck up something if I refer to it by color, I completely avoid doing that.” You let the pillow go to gesture with your hand. “If, I encounter a light that’s orange, I just ask what the light is for, or refer to it by what it’s for. I’ve never had anyone be weird about or confused by that; in fact, I think I do better than other folks, who do refer to the colors of indicators, instead of what the indicator is for. And,” you shrugged, “that’s literally the only time I can think of something being that important that I know what the color is—and, like I just said, it’s so easy to replace the color with what it’s for that it doesn’t matter.”

He seemed to think about that. “What of a sign that is in a specific color?”

You shrugged widely. “Signs say things. I can read.”

He tipped his head back and forth in a thinking agreement. “What of ships? Or displays?”

“They have other things to describe them with than just their color. What is the shape of the ship, the configuration, the engine count? And displays are displaying something else too, what’s the display of?” You had to set your jaw, acknowledging you were getting irritated. Talking about colors always seemed like such a big deal to others, that it was never not irritating how they talked in circles about not understanding.

He nodded, seeming to tell you were getting frustrated. “I’m sorry, Son. I can tell that this is bothering you, and, I suppose because I never had to think about it, it’s a curiosity to me. Thank you for sharing your method with me, I understand better now.”

Keeping your jaw set, you nodded a bit.

He gave you a gentle smile. “Well, now that I’ve upset you, I think that’s enough of me for you, for today,” he said with a light tone. “Are you still up to working on making choices?”

You nodded again, quietly; you’d gotten familiar with his method of, if you got too worked up, or he’d managed to upset you, instead of pushing you, he’d let you go and try again the next day. It often worked well for you, as the walk from his office let you think better without feeling trapped or judged or forced to formulate an answer—you had to wonder how long he’d perfected that technique with your Brothers. You set aside the pillow in your lap and moved to stand.

“Have a good rest of your day, Son,” he kept his gentle smile as you stepped past him to exit his office.

“Thank you, Doctor,” you said quietly, but sincerely.

Thinking of the Doctor’s exercise in choosing, you’d headed down to the Commons to pick up something for lunch. The first struggle had been deciding whether you wanted to try something new, or something you knew you’d liked, especially since you were already frustrated and that took a variable out of consideration—however, once you’d done a pass of the stalls and thinking on what they offered, you were drawn to the grilled fish stall. You hadn’t had it yet, and it was interesting enough that your brain latched onto the idea—since that’s what the Doctor described as practicing making a choice, you decided to go with it.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had animal products, and you’d only ever heard of fish before, thus the first taste of it was not what you’d been expecting—the flavor was both light and pungent at the same time, and the flesh was soft and flaked apart like you’d never seen before. It was good, and it’d been served with mashed potatoes and steamed pea pods, which complemented it really well. Comparatively, it wasn’t a lot of food like some other dish choices, but the macros on the fish had been wildly different from others you’d started to memorize, and you were glad you’d tried it.

You browsed the entertainment library with your PII’s dock as you ate; just as the Doctor had described, each entry in the library had a small snippet of what the media was about—some descriptions were better than others, but trying the exercise, you gave each one a read through, looking for any that caught your attention. You did notice that some of the preview images were more eye-catching, and that made you wonder if that was an “interest” too—it made sense, the fish was certainly attention-grabbing, and that seemed to fit the description of “interesting”, so why wouldn’t this? As he had suggested, you figured out how to start a list of things that caught your attention, and had added a few to it as you browsed—some stories sounded more realistic, such as one about a new space-faring league exploring a newly-discovered planet and their discoveries once there; while others sounded more fantastical, such as a story of an early space-faring freighter encountering space whales. (Based on the preview image of that one, they looked cool, but you didn’t know what a whale was.) You even added a few documentaries to the list, having found a couple about Earth and Mars.

As you finished your meal, you came across a story that was described as a group of space explorers finding an alien artifact on an asteroid that, when any one of them touched it with their bare hands, they would suddenly be imbued with knowledge about the universe that when they set the artifact down, they could no longer remember, but would spout nonsense as though they could partially remember. Your brows furrowed, mind dragged back to the SM-8 researchers, and how desperately the fish-monster wanted to show you secrets behind the Quiet Rapture, but was so obsessive about it that nothing they said made any sense… A little unnerved, and somewhat intrigued, you went to save that story to your list, but seeing the other options on the selection list, you realized that the story was a written work, not a visual one, and that the format really wanted to download onto your PII versus view straight from the Intranet.

Huh. The choice was really clear to you, then—you selected to download it onto your PII, and a new icon appeared on the library browser’s user interface’s top bar. The icon looked like an old-timey paper book, and when you tapped on it, it brought you to a selection list not unlike the name selection list on the messaging program. Oh, it was just. Right there for reading later. Huh. You chewed slowly on the last pea pod from your plate as you heavily considered the book. Joseph hadn’t been kidding when vie said that you could write about what happened in the sub, and folks would be interested, huh? The thought was a little disturbing, but also darkly intriguing.

A shadow passed over you, which wasn’t completely unusual when a Brother decided they wanted to tousle or bother you, but after a second you realized—you weren’t on Eden anymore. You hadn’t had anyone walk close enough to cast a shadow on you, the entire amount of time you’d spent so far in the Commons, like they purposefully avoided walking too close to other folks’ tables. Looking up curiously, you caught eyes with Alyx.

“Oh, hey,” you spoke up, your tone curious.

“Hi! I’m sorry, am I interrupting you?” she asked.

You shook your head. “Not at all, what’s up?”

“You seemed really into what you were reading, are you sure?” she asked, her tone concerned.

You studied her, catching that she had a big backpack on and was carrying several poles of varying length in one hand. Your brows furrowed curiously at her gear, and why she had stopped to speak with you. You shook your head, “It’s, nothing. Um, what’s all that for?”

“I was headed to open up my stall for a couple hours when I spotted you. Are you free to give me a hand?” She realized what she said, and her face made an expression that she realized, but she ultimately decided to pass on commenting on it—you let it go without acknowledging it. “I’ve been able to do some research into the types of trees I think the Last Sapling is, and I think I’ve got an idea of the nutrients she’ll need to get nice and big and strong. I can get you those today if you’re up to helping me.”

Your brows lifted at that. “Oh. Uh, sure,” you replied, glancing over your mess from lunch. “Um. Go on ahead while I clean up my area.”

She gave you a smile and nodded. “Sure thing, see you over there.”

As she bounced away, you had to gather your thoughts. Shaking your head to clear it of too many crowding it at once, you moved to shut the dock and retrieve the little tablet from within. Sliding it into your pocket, you moved to slip the dock back into your satchel, then looped the satchel around your shoulder, moved to stand, and grabbed your dish to return to one of the collection areas.

Wandering over to where you’d seen Alyx’s stand on the loop when it was empty, you caught sight that the light was on and she was within the alcove, moving around and organizing gear. Stepping up to the counter, she didn’t notice you right away, so you gave her a gentle “hey” to alert her to your presence. She stood upright and looked to you, and smiled.

“There’s a hallway to the right of my stall, I’ll be at the door in just a sec to let you in,” she called to you.

Having been inside Morrison’s stall, her direction was familiar, and you headed down that way. She kept you waiting for about a minute before the door opened, allowing you to study the otherwise barren hallway; there was a reader beside the door, probably keyed to her little tablet, but the door handle also had an old fashioned key tumbler—huh. When she opened the door, she gave you a slightly apologetic smile.

“Sorry for the wait, c’mon in,” she held open the door wide enough for you to step in, then moved to make sure it shut behind you. “This door is sticky; likes to close, but not shut.” Ah, that’s why she said she wasn’t sure if her stall had locked up properly that evening. She chuckled and gestured to where she’d hung her backpack on a tool rack. “Feel free to hang up your satchel.”

You nodded, and moved to do so. Getting a good look around the back of her stall, there was clutter everywhere; bins of tools, poles just like the ones she’d been carrying, pipes of different sizes and shapes, dozens of jugs you had to assume were for water, flat and latticed structures of varying heights, among tons of other assorted gear. She caught your study, and began to name and describe the different items to you, giving you a quick rundown of what everything was and a quick description of what they were for.

It was a little mind boggling that there were so many different needs for plants, and you must’ve had a look on your face that she found funny, because she began to chuckle. “Have I lost you at all?”

You shook your head. “No, that… All seemed pretty straight forward, just. Surprised there’s so much,” you replied, looking to her.

“In the before times, there were millions of types of plants, all with varying needs, because they all evolved to do different things. Now… we have to choose from what we have left that fits our needs and what we can still do to provide for them. This is just a fraction of what a garden center would have had back then…” For such a bubbly person, it was hard to see her face fall at that thought.

Before either of you could linger on that too long, she sighed and straightened her back. “Well, that’s just the gear.” She nodded her head back toward the front of the stall and stepped that way, prompting you to follow.

Beyond a shelving unit that held more crates of tools and piping—this selection looking to be in better shape than the gear in the back—the front of her stall looked like a more organized version of the back, with a stack of pots in the corner by the counter, and the walls of each side of the alcove were covered in large storage units. One side had a shelf, with dozens of plastic bottles all neatly labeled and filled with clear liquid; the other side had small slanted cubbies filled with paper pouches, not unlike the one the seed pendant had been returned to you in.

Studying the pouches, each had a word written on it that you weren’t familiar with, but the longer you looked, the more familiar the words seemed, and you realized, those were packets of seeds. Dozens of varieties. “Wow,” you breathed, taking in the whole wall at once with your eyes now that you realized what it was. It was a bit overwhelming—so much potential life, just waiting there.

Alyx appeared at your elbow. “It’s not often that folks ask for seeds, but, they’re in alphabetical order, just in case someone does today,” she stated.

You looked to her. “So… how does this go?”

“Folks will bring up things to trade to me—usually it’s dead leaves or branches from their home plants that I can take back to the ag ring to compost—and request something their plant needs—usually nutrients but sometimes stakes or new tools—and then I’ll judge how much they’ll get in return for their trade. What I need you to do, is once I make a judgment, retrieve what, between myself and the patron, we have come to an agreement on being a fair trade, and bring it up for the patron. Sound good?” You nodded to her and she gave you a smile.

“Speaking of nutrients,” she nodded over toward the other side of the stall, and stepped that way, prompting you to follow her. “These are the most common thing folks come in for. Each of these bottles is pure concentrated nutrients, so while a plant might not need a lot of it at once and these bottles will last a very long time, they do need it, since they’re not getting the nutrients any other way.” She gestured to three bottles in particular, labeled Nitrogen, Phosphorus, and Potassium; once she pointed them out, you realized just how many of those bottles there were on the shelf. “These are the most important nutrients that plants need. Easy enough to synthesize, but those building blocks come from somewhere, thus why folks need to trade me for them,” she looked to you. “That includes you. Every time the Last Sapling drops a leaf, or you prune a branch, I want you to bring it to me. That’s super valuable to the compost—especially from a tree.”

You nodded to her, but watched her curiously. “…Compost?”

She gave you a smile. “All plants break down into soil. Well, everything living breaks down into soil, but, to return those nutrients into the system, I need to take them back into the system. That’s composting. Every plant both takes up and breaks down into different nutrients, and since we haven’t had trees in 25 years, we’ve had to synthesize a lot of valuable nutrients that trees normally output.” She grinned. “Having the Last Sapling means that once she gets bigger, and starts shedding leaves naturally, she’ll be able to output a lot of nutrients naturally into the system, so we won't have to synthesize so many nutrients for the plants on the ag ring—the soil that her leaves will make will naturally be more nutrient-dense, isn’t that cool?”

You couldn’t help but smile; that made a lot of sense, and it felt good to hear. “So, if she loses leaves, that’s, natural?”

She nodded. “Well, one or two here and there. If she’s dropping all of them then you have a problem and you need to contact me immediately, but, yeah, it’s a natural process.”

You nodded affirmatively. “So, what do I need for her?”

Alyx turned to the shelf and pulled down one of each of the three major nutrients she mentioned, as well as two other bottles. She held out the first of the two to show you. “Calcium, magnesium, and sulfur are also very important, but no where near as much as the first three. This is a combined dose that’s usually pretty good for most plants, but as she gets bigger, we’ll have to keep a close eye on her development to see if she’s lacking in any single one of them and I can get you an individual booster if it comes down to that—we just don’t know what she’s made of, so I can’t get any closer than that guess until something goes wrong.” She held out the last bottle, which was far smaller than the others, possibly ten milliliters versus several hundred. “This 10-nutrient combo bottle is one to use extremely sparingly. In fact, the Last Sapling may not even need it because she’s got soil, unlike the rest of the plants I offer who are all on hydroponics, but I’m going to give it to you anyway just in case. Plants only need these in trace amounts, and most soil has these already.”

As you nodded, she turned to head back into the back of the alcove, and you dutifully followed her. “How big has she gotten?”

“Uh, a few centimeters. As tall as about the length of my thumb?” you replied, curious as to where she was going.

“Fuck, she’s growing fast. Maybe you should feed her when you get home…” she muttered mostly to herself. “I’m just nervous about over-feeding her, which can happen…”

She stopped over by where your satchel was hanging, and you realized she was carrying the armful of bottles for you. You gave her a grateful smile as she looked to you expectantly, and you gave her a hand, opening your satchel and holding it open so she could carefully place the bottles inside.

“So…” she trailed off, seemingly in thought. “What you’ll want to do is put a drop of nitrogen, two drops each of phosphorus and potassium, and one of the trio combination, in about a centimeter of water using your standard home cup, and pour the entire amount into her pot, throughout her pot. That’s going to be a lot of nutrients for her, but my hope is that a lot of it will sit in the soil, and eventually she’ll soak it up as she needs it, rather than just mainline it and poison herself. But… because she’s bioengineered, she might also just soak up all of it and grow wildly out of control… I can't even say,” she laughed. “After that first dose, you shouldn’t have to give her more for a good few weeks. But, send me a weekly picture of her, and we can try and dial it in as time goes on.”

You smiled and nodded, and moved to say something about the sapling growing wildly out of control when the image of the Gardeners giving Petitioners to the Last Tree crossed your vision. It stopped you cold, and your breath instead came out ragged, and you had to shake your head to clear it of the memory.

“Are you okay?” Alyx asked carefully after a few moments.

You could feel your face had fallen, but you nodded just a bit. “Um… I’m, sorry… I just… was reminded of how… uh. The Last Tree on Eden was, fed. And… that’s an, interesting question, I had…” you looked to her, and her face had fallen to concern, though it was overlaid with a bit of horror as she seemingly remembered what you’d told her about the most sacred of rituals to Edenites. “I assume bodies were an okay replacement for synthesized nutrients, but… Is there, any benefit to adding a…” you trailed off in thought for the exact wording you wanted to ask, “ritualized gift, to her?”

She watched you carefully. “What are you trying to ask me, Simon?”

“Um,” you sighed. “I had the instinct to offer her my blood.”

She seemed to relax at that—she had probably catastrophized based on what you’d told her before, and you gave her an apologetic look at that. “I wouldn't,” she started. “We… don’t know what killed the Last Tree, for certain. Sure, bodies are a pretty good replacement for synthesized nutrients, but it’s much harder to control for nutrients amounts. Such, as, in my research… Maples don’t like a lot of nitrogen; bodies break down into a lot of it, so… She might have been poisoned from what she was being fed, too,” she said gently; you frowned at that news. “Blood has a lot of nitrogen and phosphorus, so you could throw off her nutrient profile if you did.” She gave you a gentle smile. “She’ll probably be just as happy with you if you don’t, and feed her with calculated measurements.”

You gave her an apprehensive smile, but nodded affirmatively. “Thank you for taking that question seriously…”

She kept her smile. “She’s important to you, and… It sounds like the way the Last Tree was treated was too, so, when that’s all you know, that’s all you have to reference from.”

You nodded, and your smile morphed into an uncertain one. “She’s… probably also had enough blood for one lifetime, huh?”

Alyx sat with that for a second as she remembered what you meant by that, and her brows raised in agreement. “Yeah, probably.”

“Hey Alyx, are you open?” came a voice from the front of the alcove.

Both of your heads lifted at the voice. Alyx’s face fell into a sheepish look. “Opening up, yeah, I just haven’t had a chance to send out an alert. I’ll be right there,” she called. She glanced to you and said before heading toward the front; “We’ll have to get you on the messaging group—my girlfriend runs it, so folks can have an alert that the stall is open, but so not everyone has my contact info and inundate me with questions at all hours.” She chuckled and gestured for you to follow her. “Once that gets sent out is when the real fun begins.”

You gave a smile and did so.

“You didn’t have to come in today, then; you could’ve just told us you’d worked with Alyx and I would’ve called it good enough,” Caleb chided as he chucked a soft ball at you.

It was only about the size of your palm, so while you reached for it, you missed it just barely and it flew past your opened hand to smack you harmlessly in the chest. You grumbled and darted your hand back to catch it before it fell on the floor. Lea chuckled as you readjusted your grip on it to be able to throw, and tossed it over to her. The three of you were sitting in a triangle several meters apart from each other, a pretty standard exercise they’d been having you do in physical therapy—it was great both for your hand-eye coordination and your balance, but you were uncertain just how much better your hand-eye coordination was getting, as it didn’t seem to be improving a whole lot over the last couple weeks.

“Sure, it was chaos, and I’m a little tuckered out, but, it also wasn’t the same as physical therapy,” you replied, watching for Lea’s throw.

She was sitting on your left, so you paid extra attention to where she was planning on throwing; she seemed to have caught onto you over the last couple weeks, though, and was constantly trying to feint you, take you off guard. “Anyone give you any grief?” she asked as she tossed.

The ball came in high, just over your left shoulder, and though the angle was odd, it wasn’t fast, and you were able to grab it first try. “Got a bunch of odd looks, but, otherwise no, thankfully; folks seemed pretty patient,” you tossed the ball back to Caleb—you weren’t trying to do anything fancy on your throws, as in the first couple days of physical therapy, you’d figured out that your throwing seemed to be spot on still, and it was just the pesky catching.

“That’s good to hear,” Lea said with a chipper tone.

While Caleb didn’t seem to be testing you quite as much as Lea, he did every so often mix it up and throw a mischievous curve ball that you weren’t sure if the sentiment came out of being your Brother, or he was actually testing you, so you had to watch him too—plus, he threw harder. He was watching you with an odd, out of character seriousness, especially as he threw the ball back to you, the arc going wide to your right; you had to extend out far past your seat to get it, but you grabbed it and recovered well—probably the thing you had gotten best at doing so far, what with your balance being thrown off by missing several kilos of weight on the left side.

“I’m glad you came in though; I got a bone to pick with you, Simon,” he sad as you recovered from the grab.

Your brows furrowed in concerned confusion. “What’d I do?” you watched him as you tossed the ball back to Lea.

“You, are not eating enough,” he said very sternly.

You blinked and looked between them as Lea gasped.

“Simon,” she said scoldingly.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“You’re skipping breakfast—I can see your macro history, y’know that right?” Caleb said.

“Okay? You of all people know that we’re used to two meals a day—” you watched Caleb.

“That can't fly, Bro, you are healing. You are not getting anywhere near the macros you need to heal, dude,” he interrupted you. “Surely you noticed that I’ve been eating three times a day, and I’m in perfect health.”

You blinked at him, your brows staying furrowed.

“Simon, your macro list is a target, not a limit,” Lea said. “Sure, going over by too much is bad too but, it’s your goal, you want to get as close to your numbers as possible. You’re not giving your body the fuel it needs, if you’re not meeting that goal.”

“And with all that mutation shit, we have no idea what it could be doing to you—it could be sapping a bunch of your energy by your body trying to repair it, for all we know, and slowing down your recovery because you’re not eating enough calories and protein to let your body do it’s job. Fuck, the mutations might need extra macros by just existing and are sapping your body of nutrients because you’re not feeding it right. Do you understand me, Brother?” Caleb asked, with a tone that was quite close to the one you expected from a Brother giving orders.

You nodded, chastised, sitting with that now that they explained it that way.

“Plus… Bro, you are like, 30 kilos too light. Three years in prison​? I fucking remember what they feed prisoners, I’m shocked you’re not skin and bones. I bet if I took you over to weigh you, that you haven’t put on a not even single kilo since you got here. Do I have to add a weigh in to your weekly checkup?” Caleb asked, quite scoldingly.

As you shook your head smally, Lea gasped; “Three years??”

Caleb nodded to her.

“Not quite—” you corrected.

He gave you a dirty look. “Look, I know I can't fucking, escort you to the Commons to make sure you have breakfast, but do I need to find someone to do so in my stead? Do I need to ask Margie if I can come in a half hour later so I can make sure you’re not just going to the Commons, but actually eating breakfast?”

You shook your head again.

“Do I, Brother?” he asked, this time fully with his Brothers’ tone.

“No, Brother,” you replied strongly, using your own to drive home that you understood.

He watched you with a hard expression on his face. “Have I gotten my point through your thick skull, at least?”

You nodded quietly.

“Simon?” he asked insistently.

“Yes, Caleb,” you sighed.

“What is the prison rations like?” Lea asked, looking horrified.

“It’s like, 500 grams worth of carbs of a grain mash and supplement tablets. It’s awful,” Caleb replied.

She made a scandalized noise. “Oh Simon… No wonder you’re so thin… Though, that he’s not eating much also makes sense, Caleb. He’s still getting used to being able to eat real meals; when the body’s gone that long without real food, it just, doesn’t know what to do with it.” His brows furrowed at her. She nodded quickly, then looked to you. “Caleb is right, but honestly you should be eating smaller meals more often. I’ve seen you hanging out in the Commons; you really should just have something to snack on any time you’re there, the entire time. Your body is in starvation mode, and you need to be gentle to get it out of it—it’s using anything you’re putting into it, not storing anything. Constant snacking will help your body realize it doesn’t have to immediately burn what its got, and help your body relearn how to properly use its hungry and full signals.”

You watched her quietly, chewing on that information.

“Carbs, protein, calcium. Dry roasted chickpeas, potato chips, hummus and crackers, kale chips, baked spinach puffs, dried nori sheets, smoked fish and crackers—as much as you can stomach, all really great snacks to sit and munch on and to fill your macros with, that’s exactly what they’re there for! Try to break your expectation that you need to have a big meal all at once—the Commons is open all day, you’re in no rush,” Lea instructed with a gentle tone, giving you a smile.

She gave you the motion that she was going to toss the ball again, which you were glad she did, as the prompt snapped you out of that apprehensive feeling of getting scolded. When she tossed it, she had aimed low, forcing you to duck down to catch it—but, catch it you did, first try, then sat upright. You looked to Caleb, who looked to be in thought at that revelation too.

“You seem to be chewing on that too, huh, Bro?” you asked, and he looked to you; when he did, you made a motion that you were going to toss the ball to him.

He gave a ready motion, and you tossed it to him. “Yeah, honestly. I didn’t, know that. I guess I also didn’t need to deal with it when I got here, so I just, never learned about it. We haven’t had anyone really come through who needed that advice.”

Lea gave a soft smile. “I’ve seen it in other Edenites, before you two. Caleb you were in pretty good shape when you got here, so yeah, you didn’t need it, but, Simon’s also the worst I’ve ever seen. It’s amazing your guts haven’t rebelled against you, have you had any issues?”

You tipped your head back and forth in an uncertain motion. “Yeah… a little. It was worse last week, but. I think my system’s settling in with the newness, now.”

“Makes sense why you wouldn't necessarily want breakfast either…” Lea said with a soft concern.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Bro, I wish I’d known,” Caleb said softly, and made a motion to throw the ball to you.

“I didn’t know either, Caleb, don’t be too hard on yourself,” Lea said as you put up your hand in a ready motion.

“…How much of my file can you two see…?” you asked carefully as Caleb threw you a curve ball to your left; taken off guard, you tried reaching for it, but realized far too late you were reaching with your left nothing, and ended up missing the ball by a wide margin as you tried to recover with your right hand, it skating past you along the floor to the wall behind you. Sighing, you stood to go get it.

“Do you mean your convict file?” Lea asked gently. After you gave her an affirming sound, she continued, “None of it. The only file we can see is your personnel file, and that just says “Convict Realization Completionist” on it. That only tells us you were imprisoned, not for how long…”

Heading back to your seat with the ball, you tossed it to Lea before you sat again. “I feel like that’s an oversight, then.”

“I’d hope that normally, the Consolidation isn’t holding people for as long as you were,” Caleb said with irritation on your behalf.

You sighed at that, and Lea watched you with concern. “I’ve never heard of the council keeping anyone that long before… What the hell did you do that they saved you for a whole fucking blood ocean?” she asked, though it sounded rhetorical.

You didn’t have a chance to get upset at the memory, as she made a motion to toss the ball at you to warn you, then did so. She threw it in the same fashion that Caleb had, but as you were more aware, you were at least able to reach over and touch the ball—it bounced upward off your hand as you went to grab it, allowing you a second chance, and you were able to snatch it out of the air. Your save got cheers from the medics, and you couldn’t help but smile a bit.

The smile soured a bit as you thought of Lea’s question, and you didn’t say anything before throwing Caleb the ball again. “I… was responsible for Filament Station’s destruction.”

“What?” Lea squeaked; you didn’t want to look at her to see her expression.

“I was set up, but. I still pulled the trigger. I… was supposed to die there, but, I made it out and was captured fleeing. I became the perfect scapegoat,” you replied, keeping your eyes on Caleb for if he was going to throw the ball again. It hurt to talk about, but it hurt just a little bit less than last time, now that the truth was out to those who needed to hear it most.

You saw Lea look at Caleb out of the corner of your eye, and he nodded.

“To be fair, I was also supposed to die in that tin can, so…” you said darkly.

“Simon,” she said with an incredulous and scolding tone.

“It’s true,” you said sharply, setting your jaw to fight tears. “The council called for the tow ship to not retrieve me, after my sub’s line was cut.” You looked to her; she was watching you with horror. Caleb made a startled and angry sound, and you looked to him. “I was retrieved on accident. They were trawling for the councilor who had dove in after me. …And I don’t even know if she was planning on actually retrieving me, or just letting our computers connect so she could get the information I brought up.”

Caleb squished the ball he was holding in his fist with anger, and Lea looked like she was horrified beyond words.

You took a deep breath and a few tears escaped; you moved to brush them away as you sighed. “They’re only being kind to me now that I’m here and they have to deal with me, to look at my face and see the consequence of their decisions. I mean… I’ll take it over the alternative, but. Knowing you’re worth less than scrap right up until someone has to save face doesn’t really instill you with much confidence. …Not that I don’t deserve it with what I did,” you said the last sentence softly.

You were startled out of your thoughts by suddenly getting pelted in the face with something that didn’t hurt, then it dropping immediately into your lap. Looking down—and darting your hand to catch it—it was the ball; looking up at Caleb, he was giving you a pissed expression.

“You did NOT fucking deserve to be held for three fucking years in their prison, and then left to die in a tin can at the bottom of a blood ocean,” Caleb growled.

You gripped the ball in your fist and snarled to respond, but Ava’s words when she’d picked you up out of prison came back to you; “Any other captain would have had you killed on sight, so count yourself lucky.” Maybe she had intended for you to live… Your shoulders relaxed and your face fell as you sighed. “I killed 62 people, including Terry—”

“You were set up!” his voice raised.

“They didn’t know that—!” you raised your volume to match his.

“THEY SHOULD HAVE,” he barked.

Lea raised her hands to give him a calm down motion. You watched him quietly for several moments as his face was screwed up in anger before you said calmly and at a normal volume, “You and I know that. They know that now. But that doesn’t change that it happened that way. I never got a trial; they decided that I deserved it, because for all they cared, I blew up a station for fun.”

He stared at you in disbelief. “You never got a…” That seemed to sink into his brain, and he stood suddenly, and picked up and threw his chair across the room, where thankfully it slammed into a bulkhead and not a machine.

“Caleb!” Lea gasped.

You sat quietly as he seethed; years of rage at how you had been treated that had been carefully packed away in your psyche felt even a slightest bit relieved at his actions—at least someone had the gall to be upset, and you knew you weren’t allowed to be, not in the way you wanted: the way he was venting. You could see that his shoulders were heaving as he was trying not to do anything else that could possibly be destructive, and you couldn’t bring yourself to try and talk him down, since having his second-hand rage go off in your favor felt satisfying.

No one moved in the room for several long minutes, until it seemed as though his rage had worked its course and first his shoulders relaxed and his back straightened, then he carefully moved to go retrieve the chair and right it, wheeling it back over.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly after sitting back in his chair.

Lea watched him with both concern and a healthy amount of fear—you could figure that she’d never seen him act like a Brother before.

“Thank you,” you said to him, which prompted him to look to you—so did Lea, with confusion. You looked to her. “We’re… not allowed to get angry for ourselves.” Her confused look deepened. “On Eden… we were taught to be the masters of our own emotions; getting angry for yourself was not controlling your emotions, but, getting angry for a Brother was fine, that deepened your bond, showed you cared. Here… Edenites showing anger means you’re a danger, ungrateful…” You kept your eyes on her, and her expression turned concerned. Anseh becoming sharp with you, and Umbra’s dark scolding came forth in your mind. “I like to think I’m a pretty level-headed Brother, but. When I’ve used the wrong tone, or chosen the wrong words… It’s been made very clear to me that I, we, are only living here on the good graces of everyone around us. …We’re even told that in integration.”

Lea looked to Caleb, as if for confirmation; he nodded silently in affirmation.

“That’s why I was so worried about Caleb, after my surgery… If Margie had really felt it necessary, zhe could have ruined his life, just by him trying to calm me down in the best way he knew how, because zhe didn’t like his tone,” you explained quietly.

“I… never knew,” she replied, equally as quiet. “And, he’s always been so level-headed and easy going.”

“You haven’t seen even half of Caleb then. A, carefully constructed mask; you just got a taste of his whole self… Then again, you haven’t seen even half of me, for the same reason,” you said.

“We’re, not allowed to be us,” he eventually said, moving to scoot his chair over to you.

You watched him as he scooted closer, unsure what he was wanting to do, but as he got close enough, you realized and put your head down; he scooted to put the crown of his head against yours, and moved to take your hand in both of his—you let the ball go to allow him to.

“I’m sorry, Simon… I’m so sorry to hear about everything you’ve been through… It’s been, fucking easy sailing for me and here I am acting as if nothing was ever wrong with this place because of it,” he said quietly, just letting his head rest against yours.

“We take the hand we’re dealt, Caleb; I’m not upset with you. I’m just thankful to be here, and not… anywhere worse,” you said softly, caressing his hand with your thumb.

“I’m thankful you’re here too,” he replied and carefully moved to take his weight back, prompting you to part with him.

You did so, but before you could sit upright, he pressed a kiss to your hair; you gave him a soft smile and squeezed his hand.

The room was quiet for at least a minute—it was hard to tell, as the seconds felt long with all the emotions that had been thrown about—before Caleb took a deep breath to sigh and untangled his hands from yours, then leaned down to reach for the ball where you’d dropped it.

Before he could sit up, you reached out to tousle his hair—he snorted and shook his head, rolling his chair back and out of your reach as you chuckled.

“Don’t you test me,” he said seriously, but you could hear the teasing in his voice, and he couldn’t hide it for long as his otherwise still frustrated face cracked a smile.

You gave him a slightly wry grin in reply.

“How… do you normally act?” Lea pipped up, watching you both curiously.

You both looked at her.

“Um. Similar to that,” you said, gesturing between you and Caleb to indicate how you’d both just acted.

“Only, often way more violent,” Caleb continued, reaching up to fix his hair.

Lea looked between the two of you with an eyebrow cocked.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m in no shape at the moment to give a demonstration, but I’m tempted.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, because then I’d be obligated to respond and you’re definitely in no shape for that,” Caleb warned with a grin. “Don’t fucking make me set back your healing, Bro.”

You chuckled. Lea’s brows furrowed. “We’re used to being able to fuck around with or wrestle our Brothers at any moment—tousling is an important part of our bond, and, honestly, our physical fitness too,” you told her. “We’re loud. We argue, fight, and take no shit from each other. We’re anxiously awaiting the day I’m healed enough for a good tousle, we both sorely miss it.”

Caleb nodded in agreement as you spoke. Lea lifted a brow at that. “We’re talking, throwing each other around, slamming into each other at full speed and with full weight, picking each other up, tackling, tripping, grappling—you name it,” Caleb told her.

“You’re just a bunch of teenage boys, is what I’m hearing,” she commented wryly.

You both chuckled. “You could, put it that way, I guess,” you replied. “Aren’t much able to grow out of it, if that’s all you know.”

“Well. If that’s the case, I see what you mean by, Simon not being in any shape to participate,” she gave a defeated smile. She looked between you both. “Is there, anything you could do that resembles that, that won't hurt him worse?”

You both shook your head. “No, not with the even spread of injuries just, fucking everywhere on him,” Caleb said first.

“Most of what we did was pretty violent, and yeah, I, can't think of a single thing I could do to engage a tousle that wouldn’t immediately hurt myself,” you continued, holding out your arm to show off the graft on your inner forearm. “If this one wasn’t there, maybe. Like, he once got me in a teasing headlock before he remembered, and this thing hurt immediately upon responding. Granted, that was when I first got here, but, still—I know this is just going to have to take time to heal…”

Lea looked like she was thinking pretty hard about that. “Because, if, you could figure out some gentler way, that would be great physical therapy for you. Both, really—not that I think Caleb needs physical therapy, but being physically active like that is just in general a good idea.”

“Oh believe me, I know, Lea,” Caleb said with a tinge of irritation—it didn’t seem to be directed at her, but simply the circumstance. “I’ve been trying to come up with something myself, because I completely agree. Not just because I want to, but because yeah, it is great physical therapy.”

She sighed and gave you two a wry smile. “Though, it’s hard to imagine you two fine, upstanding young men being hooligans, and yet you’re sitting here telling me that’s what you’re normally like?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Caleb gave her an evil smile, the kind you’d definitely expect from a Brother. “You don’t know the half of it, Lea.”

The unnerved look on Lea’s face made you laugh harder. “Who are you and what have you done with Caleb?” she asked half-teasingly, which made him join you in laughter.

“Though, I guess there is one option,” Caleb said after several moments of thought, getting a hold of his laughter and looking to you. “Strike drills? But instead of actual strikes, I could just feint at you. How are your ribs feeling?”

You tipped your head in thought at that. “They’re better than the other day, but… Probably still too tender to do strike drills, even feinting ones.”

Lea looked between you both with curiosity on her face.

“Like, uh, punch throwing or knifework that, then he’d try to block or dodge,” Caleb looked to her.

“That’d definitely be good to practice with. Quicker than throwing a ball around too,” you replied.

“Tell you what, we can move on to doing that once your ribs stop hurting, so long as your arm graft lets you do that,” he looked to you again, nodding.

You nodded in return. “That sounds good. Could use the refresher too—not just because now I’m down a blocker.”

He chuckled.

“I’m, not following, sorry guys,” Lea said with confusion.

“Here, I’ll come at you,” you said to Caleb, and turned to wheel your chair over by him. “Not a lot, but, just to demonstrate.”

“Okay but what’s your definition of ‘not a lot’,” he laughed as you approached, probably quicker than he was expecting.

As you got close, you lifted your elbow to give him forewarning, and he put up his forearms in front of him to block—you came in faster than you realized you were, too, and slammed into him a bit harder than you’d meant to, but he blocked expertly, though you sent him rolling back in his chair a little ways.

“Ah, shit, Bro,” he laughed as he caught his balance, “you said not a lot!”

You couldn’t help but laugh too. “Sorry, came in hotter than I thought I was.”

“Now show her what you mean without prompting me to retaliate, you asshole,” he laughed, scooting back toward you, but not before moving to chuck the ball he was holding toward the back of the room where there was a small bin of them.

When he made a ready motion, you threw a blind right jab at his ribs, which he blocked easily—you weren’t trying to actually run a strike drill with him, and you purposefully slowed down your movement before it could reach his body so he could block. With your hand blocked, you twisted to bring your arm upward in a typical parry recovery, then reached to grab his face, which he easily blocked by grabbing your hand with his right hand. Instinct moved your body to thrust your left fist forward into his ribs… but then you realized the opening you’d gave him with your usually perfect rebuttal.

You didn’t try to pull back your hand, and instead, made a frustrated face. He chuckled, catching exactly what happened. “And that’s why you need to run strike drills.”

“Uh-huh,” Lea commented. “I see what you mean by that term now, and why it is perfect for his physical therapy.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he replied, letting your hand go. “Surprised I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“So am I, or that I hadn’t thought of it first. Strike drills are essential to our training,” you mused.

“That settles it, when your ribs are better, we’ll do that,” he grinned. “Gotta get you back into shape.”

You gave him a lopsided smile. “I used to be good. Just…”

“We’ll get you back there,” he chuckled and reached to tousle your hair; you dodged and scooted your chair out of his reach. “That’s, probably our time for today, huh? Didn’t, get much practice in there, uh, unfortunately,” he looked to Lea.

She moved to pull her little tablet from her pocket to check the time. “It’s about that time, yeah. Still, we have a new plan on the docket, so not all was lost.”

Caleb looked to you. “You. I want to see you in the Commons for dinner—now I want to make sure you’re eating.”

Your smile turned apprehensive. “Hey, do you want me to eat small things more often, or do you want to have dinner with me?”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive. As long as I’m seeing you eating, and you’re filling those macros, you got me?” he pointed at you mock-threateningly, then moved to stand.

You chuckled. “Okay, okay, I’ll go have a snack.”

Before you could stand, he offered you his hand to assist; you took it, and stood with his help. He pulled you close to wrap his arm around you and pat you on the lower back, pulling you to walk with him. “Gotta get you back into shape so you give me a good run for my money.”

You chuckled and wrapped your arm around his shoulders. “Will do, Bro.”

The sky (wait, sky?) was dark behind the little sapling, sitting as it was in it’s little pot.

In its much more suitable environment, it had grown to be as tall as your longest finger in just the last couple of weeks, with scraggly little branches reaching out here and there, tiny little leaves popping up at the ends of each. She stood as a shining light inexplicably against the darkness, no other light to be seen, or to illuminate her.

The sky behind her turned from black to dark orange, and as you watched, cold fear dumped into your veins—the sky wasn't just changing color, it was opening. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the giant eye from the hallucination, or vision, or whatever it was you had in the sub. You tried to back away, but found yourself rooted in place—quite literally; as you tore your eyes from the giant eye in the sky to look down, you saw that tree roots, not unlike the ones that allowed you to kill the mutated-you in that dream, encased your lower legs, as you stood, this time, calf deep in blood.

Wait, were you dreaming?

WHY HAVEN’T YOU OPENED YOUR EYES, SIMON?

You recognized the sound—it was hard to call it a voice—from that first vision, and it sent a horrible shiver down your spine. Did you miss a dose of anti-psychotic? This felt too real to be a dream.

“We don’t need Eyes to see.”

That gentle voice you had only heard a few times in your ear, spoke aloud as the seedling’s illumination seemed to grow brighter, and you had to turn your head to guard your eyes from it.

WHAT ARE YOU…?

It somehow sounded confused, if not curious, and impossibly, the giant eye seemed to focus solely on the little plant that stood between you and it.

“Eden. Hope.” The illumination about the sapling began to fade, and the sapling began to grow rapidly before your very eyes, it’s trunk twisting menacingly toward the eye in the sky, thousands of leaves unfurling in a mesmerizing display as branches grew to the thickness of your torso in seconds. “My Son’s freedom. Your undoing.”

From between the tree’s leaves, you just barely caught the eye blink.

You jolted awake, and scrambled to sit upright. Wherever you were was completely dark, but you recognized the feeling of your sheets and blanket, your bed. If that was true, you knew your little tablet was on the beside table, and you reached panickedly for it.

Your fingers tapped it, and the screen lit up in greeting as you got solid purchase on it, then pulled it toward you. It’s soft orange glow was warm and friendly, and registering that it was in your hand, that it had unlocked upon being picked up by you and was showing you the programs page, helped ground you in reality, and you were able to begin to catch your breath.

Had that really just been a dream? You tapped into the med tracker, and looked to the machine’s clock to compare the times. You still had 6 hours left on your anti-psychotic, so it didn’t make any sense why that had happened. Curious, you tapped into the program that controlled the apartment’s mainframe and tapped on the port that the Last Sapling’s lamp was on.

You winced and turned your head away from the sudden brightness, and after letting your eyes adjust, you looked over to study the seedling. She stood just as she had looked when you’d turned the lights off for bed, still about as tall as the length of your longest finger, with scraggly limbs and about a dozen tiny leaves.

Why did you expect her to look any different?

You sighed, accepting that the Curse hadn’t completely been lifted. But as you looked to the seedling, you thought about the Tree’s presence in each of the dreams—hallucinations?—you’d had with both an aspect of that …god, or whatever it was, and her. She’d protected you the last two times; was the first time, in the sub, with her still in the pendant, also her protecting you?

She’d called herself Eden. Was she the same Tree?

You glanced back at the time: 0432. You heaved a tired sigh and set the little tablet on your bed to scrub at your face. There was no way you were getting back to sleep after that, not with the amount of adrenaline that your body was processing, but physical tiredness gnawed at you the longer you sat, and the more adrenaline your body worked through now that the fear had passed. You glanced back to the Last Sapling and figured if she was protecting you from whatever the Curse was,the least you could do was leave her light on in recompense, and try to get some more sleep.

“Thank you,” you said aloud toward where the Last Sapling sat, and moved to place your tablet back on the bedside table, and get re-situated in bed.

Watching the Iridescent pull into Derin’s dock was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, even after experiencing the tow ship get picked up by the vehicle transport ship. It was almost enough to overshadow the dream that continued to haunt you well into the afternoon—of which you’d made sure to tell Caleb about; if he was going to be taking care of the Last Sapling, he should know if something weird might happen. Or, was it an omen, and something Bad was going to happen because you were leaving her behind? You didn’t want to think about it, and the Iridescent’s docking procedure was enough of a sight to behold to help you shake the thought.

The freighter was nearly the size of a small station, and you could see now why it had been named—you’d never seen it in person before, and it’s schematics betrayed it’s size. It’s airlocks passed the observation dock continuously, seemingly unending, even and especially as it’s momentum slowed to aweigh anchor. How in the Hell did the pilot(s?) manage to dock it, with it being so huge. Surely not even external cameras could help with the insanely small precision needed to align such a huge ship with the airlocks on a station. Honestly, you were surprised that it didn’t require the guided assistance that an airdock had at its disposal to dock at all.

“The Iridescent Shipping Freighter, docking in vaccudock 1 in T-minus 1 minute, thirty-seconds,” came an announcement over a loud speaker. “Boarders of the Iridescent Shipping Freighter, report to bay 3. Receivers of the Iridescent Shipping Freighter, report to bay 6.”

You almost missed the instructions, as you hadn’t been expecting them to be announced. Eden had nothing that could compare to this experience, so everything felt new, and you were glad that the COI had infrastructure that complemented the technology they had. You pulled your little tablet out of your pocket and opened the map so you could figure out where Bay 3 was; following the map, you made your way down to the loading bays, though it was hard to keep an eye both on the map and everything else. It was so interesting to see, absolutely nothing like Eden at all…

“The Iridescent Shipping Freighter has docked in vaccudock 1. Boarders of the Iridescent Shipping Freighter, report to bay 3. Receivers of the Iridescent Shipping Freighter, report to bay 6. Loading time remaining: 1 hour, thirty-minutes.”

You couldn’t even imagine the sheer amount of goods the Iridescent could hold, and giving it an hour and a half to load and unload felt like no where near enough time, with the sheer size of the vessel alone. Through the observation dock’s glass, you could see a personnel-sized ship being loaded onto the Iridescent; the sight made you stop and press your face up against the glass—was that the ship Umbra had mentioned? It had to be, it looked just like an old model of Eden’s second fleet, and you could recognize it even from such a far distance. Fuck, Umbra was serious, you thought to yourself as you peeled yourself away from watching to keep heading toward the freighter.

Your satchel bounced against your hip as you went, full to it’s capacity with your PII’s dock, some personal effects, and the hardvac suit that Joseph had custom made for you. You hadn’t expected to get the suit to fit into the bag, but Caleb had managed to fold it just so that it would just barely fit. You had no idea how you were going to get it back into your satchel if you needed to take it out for any reason, but you’d figure that out when the issue came up.

Due to the distance, it took you a little while to make it to Bay 3, but upon your arrival, you saw there was an airlock bridge attached and open. That had to be the right spot, you figured, and headed up the bridge. As you got half way up the bridge, the map on your little tablet changed, just as it did when changing rings on the station; the top of the map declared “Iridescent D3”. Deck, perhaps? You continued up into the proper guts of the ship, and only once you had stepped foot into the ship itself did you stand aside from the airlock bridge to allow any other boarders to come through, to then try to figure out where you needed to go using the map.

“Simon, I presume?” a voice called out to you.

Looking up from your little tablet, you looked around and caught sight of a stout woman stepping out of a hallway that led deeper into the ship. “Um, yes?”

She stepped up to you and offered you her hand to shake. You quickly slid your little tablet into your pocket and reached to take her hand. “I’m Veronica, the first mate of the Iridescent,” she introduced herself, giving you a firm handshake before parting from you.

“Good to meet you,” you replied in the pause she gave you.

She hardly gave you a moment in which to respond, before she continued, “Umbra spoke with us about you coming to assist us; I can lead you to the bridge where we can properly get you up to speed.” She gestured toward the depths of the ship, and at your nod, turned to head down the hallway from which she came.

You trailed her, a wave of relief pouring over you that you wouldn’t have to navigate this huge vessel by yourself. “Uh, thanks a lot,” you said, hearing the relief in your own voice. “This thing is enormous.”

“Most folks who have never been on the Iridescent say the same. Captain Rylee suggested that I come down to meet you, seeing how new you are to the Consolidation,” she said as she led you into a maze of hallways.

You set your jaw against saying anything about “being new to the Consolidation”, having been working more in depth with Doctor Beckett over the last week to shut down the reflexive defensiveness that had gotten you right scoldings by so many of the folks who were helping you fit in. Instead, you formulated a different response than the one your gut wanted to go with, trying to rethink the same feeling with more professionalism; “I’ll, have to thank the captain when we get there, then; the ship’s layout is so different from a station, it would’ve taken me forever to figure out where to go.”

“It’s not so bad once you figure out the formula of how it’s laid out, but, hopefully we’ll get you back home before you get a chance to start memorizing anything,” she responded, her voice professional, but holding a hint of mirth.

“Um, that’s, a, good question,” you thought of in response to her words. “This is my, first time off station, how exactly do things differ?”

“Here, not by much, to be honest. The Iridescent is large enough to be considered a mobile station, so much of day-to-day life here feels like life on a station. There’s a Mess Hall instead of something like Derin’s Commons, so where you’re used to the huge variety of food to choose from, we’ve got a much smaller selection. It’s still better than other ships, but you’ll probably be missing home after a couple days; though, because we move so much produce between stations, you’ll find several foods you’re not familiar with, so hopefully the lack of quantity will be made up by the variety. Your PII should have updated with your assigned bunking; it’s a private room, but smaller than you’re used to on station. Also, our intranet is different than Derin’s, so you’ll find media that Derin doesn’t have, but you’ll also need to use your PII for accessing more things than you’re used to on station—work stations and staff entries, the like. For example, elevators will only work if you scan your PII; this makes sure that access to important sections of the ship don’t get accessed by folks who don’t have clearance—the bridge, the engine room, so on. You should have guest access to the bridge and airdock hanger 3, but we’ll make sure that got updated correctly.”

You nodded along with her words until she mentioned the airdock, and reality sunk in that Umbra had truly planned for you to use your best judgment, and intercept the aggressors at your discretion. You gave a steadying sigh. “Good thing I got my PII modified, then,” you said mostly to yourself.

She glanced back at you upon you saying that. “If you need any extraneous assistance, please let me know. I’m sure your home has all your accessibility tools and organization, so we foresee this will be more difficult for you.”

You blinked at her constantly retreating back. The COI really put in care about that, didn’t they? “I’ve got the most important of them with me, but, I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

You thought about further questions you could ask as you walked, but you weren’t sure what was going to be covered in the briefing, so you let silence fall between you, as she seemed to have nothing more to input. After what felt like kilometers of winding through the maze of hallways, you arrived what looked like a personnel sized elevator, and Veronica turned to look to you. “Give scanning your PII a try, that way we can double check you got the correct permissions.”

You watched her face carefully as she spoke, trying to study it for any distrust—you realized you were being defensive, but it was a hard instinct to shake. After all, you were being given bridge permissions to the largest shipping freighter in the COI, and you expected someone to be resistant to an Edenite being allowed anywhere near the helm. You nodded, and moved to take your little tablet out of your pocket, and briefly scanning the door with your eyes, found a scanner not unlike the one on your apartment door; holding up your little tablet to it, the elevator door opened with a hiss.

Veronica stepped inside first, and you followed dutifully after, the door hissing shut behind you. The control panel inside the elevator was labeled by level, and several of the levels, including the bridge, had an orange highlight on the buttons beside their names. With a cursory glance, you noticed that the levels not lit up included engineering and cargo. Huh, that was a fancy detail. Before you could say anything about it, Veronica spoke up; “Yep, permissions were assigned properly.” She pushed the button labeled Bridge, and the elevator began to ascend.

It took a long time for the elevator to finally slow its ascent and come to a stop. When the elevator door opened, Veronica stepped out, and you followed her dutifully, but the view outside the elevator slowed your walking speed. The elevator had spit you out directly onto the bridge, and the room was both enormous and beautiful, as every wall was lined with glass, not unlike the tow ship’s helm. The windows allowed you a spectacular view of both Derin’s port, and space beyond, which you realized you hadn’t seen since the tow ship had been picked up. You didn’t realize how much you’d missed that view.

Your gaze was interrupted by Veronica’s voice calling your name; your eyes and head snapped to attention, and you realized that your progress had lagged far behind her. Before you could apologize, you registered that there was several people sitting at a war table where she had stepped over to, and your face went cold. Good job, idiot. “I’m—sorry,” you stuttered and picked back up to join the crew.

A thin woman with short cut hair chuckled light-heartedly at your distraction. “Welcome to the Iridescent, Simon,” she said from her perch in a chair at the head of the war table; Veronica stood beside her, and gestured to an open seat for you to take.

You dutifully took the seat she gestured to, moving to unsling your satchel from your shoulder and place it on the floor beside you, then Veronica moved to sit in the seat beside you, directly in between you and whom you had to assume was the captain. Politely, and professionally, you kept your eyes trained on the captain, awaiting her words.

She gave you a welcoming smile. “I’m Captain Rylee, I’ve heard good things about you. Come to help us with our little fly problem,” she chuckled, which pulled chuckles out of a couple of the folks who were assembled around the war table.

The chuckles made you nervous. Even knowing, logically, that you were one of the COI now, you were very aware that at any point, you could have been in the seat of one of those ships doing fly-bys of the Iridescent, being referred to as a tiny, insignificant, bothersome, easily squished insect—it was hard not to see them still having that expectation of you, regardless of whatever knowledge of your expertise Umbra had passed onto them. You swallowed your nervousness, trying desperately to keep it in the back of your mind and out of the way; you nodded to that, “Yes, captain.”

“Now that you’ve arrived, I want to make sure that everyone is on the same page. You all have been assembled here because Eden has seemingly taken an interest in the Iridescent. This is unprecedented; thus far, the interest has only made it so far as to fly ships into our scanner range, then bow out. However, it’s become worrisome as it has been occurring for nearly a month now, on the daily. We have been unable to figure out a motive, and the persistence and dodginess has made it clear that this is not going to stop. Thus, we have brought in an expert,” Rylee spoke, ending her words with a gesture to you. You felt several sets of eyes on you as you nodded to her. “Simon, would you be able to tell us more about yourself and your expertise? Umbra spoke highly of your skills, and if Umbra sees potential in someone, then I trust them fully.”

You watched her quietly for several moments past her speaking for any tells, any unspoken words, but if she were being untruthful, then she was very good at hiding it. “Of course, captain,” you started, and finally tore your eyes from her to glance around at the other faces at the war table. “I, was, one of Eden’s special forces. I was… directly responsible for planning many such raids on COI ships and stations, if not led the charge myself… Until Eden betrayed me and threw me out like old trash,” you said, trying to figure out how else to make yourself seem more palatable, while also not hiding why you were here. You saw several peoples’ eyes glance at your missing arm, and there was a hope in the back of your mind that they wouldn’t ask about it, simply assuming that it was Eden’s fault based on your words—it’d be easier for them to think that.

You saw Rylee’s eyebrows lift—that made you wonder how little she had been told. Was the COI just really that bad at informing their people? Or did Umbra allow you to give your own credentials once you were on the ship—that would make sense, as maybe ze were making you seem more palatable by simply being someone ze trusted.

“Umbra’s requests are starting to make more sense now,” she said with mirth. “Do you have any ideas of what Eden’s plans could possibly be? Can you tell us more about why Eden has never performed a raid on the Iridescent, or perhaps why they’re seemingly interested in doing so now?”

You nodded to her questions, but then shook your head in thought. “I’m sorry, captain, I have no actual ideas what’s going on; I was hoping that being able to study the recorded incidences closely could help but, leading into your second question, we never tried to hit the Iridescent because it’s far too well armed. We always wanted to, knowing the sheer volume of cargo it’s capable of transporting, but there’s never been a logical way in which to do so, and there were no plans in the works back when I was still there. I can say from experience that whatever they’re doing, they’re not scanning, they’re not able to connect to the Iridescent at all; their computers aren't that capable, with the distance between the ships. Though… I have been gone from Eden for several years, so I can’t speak perfectly to that,” you were quiet for a second in thought. “Umbra brought to my attention that they have developed new tech since I’ve been gone, something we always wanted to be able to do, but couldn’t figure out in all my time there, so I wouldn’t completely take anything off the table.”

Rylee nodded slowly, seemingly thinking about all that you said. “Why now? Could you think of a reason?”

“With respect, captain, it could be any reason. Desperation, to be an annoyance, new tech, stupidity… I couldn’t say for certain until I have a look at the recordings,” you replied.

She nodded again, then gave you a fixed stare. “Why do you want to help us?”

A shiver ran down your spine, and your face went cold. You were quiet for what felt like a suspiciously long time as you thought of an appropriate answer to that. “I don’t want any more death. On either side. If, I can use my past sins to prevent my Brothers from doing something stupid, and-or hopefully scare Eden off the COI permanently, then I want to be part of that.”

You felt several sets of eyes on you, and could see Veronica watching you carefully out of the corner of your eye. Rylee nodded at that, and chipped, “Good. Glad to have your services and expertise, Simon!”

You wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but it wouldn’t come out—you didn’t feel like you could relax. Even as Rylee moved to mess with the holograms on the war table, you felt like you’d sealed your own fate with your words, prey amongst predators, outnumbered and small.

The center of the table, underneath the hologram projectors, had displays of camera angles scattered about the ship. Most were focused on the loading docks, and you watched as the dock hands moved quickly and efficiently to continue swapping cargo between the Iridescent and Derin.

“Now, for the rest of why we’re here. First, introductions;” Rylee began, and you looked up from where you were watching the cargo loaders to each individual that Rylee gestured to, “this is my navigation expert, Peter, and my communications expert, Trixie.” Both individuals gave nods to the assembled crew. “Specially assigned to this voyage are Hubert, a communications expert; Oliver, a navigation expert; and Wanda, a mechanical expert. Umbra insisted on having them along for the mission to aid Simon in finding out what Eden is up to, and intercepting the fly if the situation would so come to it. I’ve been told by Umbra that you three are zir first picks in each field, best of the best.” Rylee gave a sincere smile, but it was laced with mirth.

“That’s news to me,” Wanda spoke up jokingly, pulling chuckles from most of the crew.

“Good to meet y’all,” Hubert said, moving to offer his hand to folks to shake.

At his prompting, handshakes went around the war table, and folks readily included you in the round—you hadn’t truly been expecting them to, and being acknowledged still made you nervous, but it was vaguely reassuring. You were starting to understand why other Realized Edenites would congregate and isolate, and why the council felt they needed to be separated.

“Umbra didn’t give me much direction, just asked if I would come to the Iridescent for several days and assist in a skirmish, so that much checks out,” Oliver began once handshakes had wrapped up. “Can we know more about this?”

Hubert and Wanda nodded at that, and the three of them looked first to Rylee, but she just chuckled. “I may be the captain of the Iridescent, but for this mission, the Iridescent is just your work hub; I am not your captain,” she said, nodding toward you.

Instead, they looked to you.

Something about the way she said that, triggered the leader in your brain. This wasn’t Eden, these weren’t your Brothers, but you were still in charge of them. You nodded once, letting that leader instinct take over your words and thought processes as you looked over the three of them. “Ze didn’t give me much direction either, to be honest, so I believe that zir intention with this mission is to fully leave it up to our discretion. Really, ze tacked on the idea of intercepting or tailing the aggressors as an afterthought—psychological warfare, ze suggested.”

“I saw the Edenian ship being loaded—that would work very well for psychological warfare indeed,” Wanda commented.

You nodded at that, noting that Oliver looked concerned. Hubert must have caught onto it too, and spoke up before you could; “Umbra must have given us each different sets of instruction, then. I was asked to work with Simon to dual tag the Edenian ship, flying a false flag that the aggressors will read first as just another Edenian ship.”

“The COI already has that technology?” you couldn’t help but ask.

Hubert nodded. “It’s not commonly employed. Considering that Eden has so few ships, they’d recognize their own, or immediately recognize the false flag, I have to assume that Umbra’s idea is to cause confusion first and foremost—psychological warfare, as you mentioned. Eden doesn’t have that ability?”

You moved to shake your head, then stopped. “They didn’t when I was there. That’s the new technology that I mentioned they’ve developed since my absence.”

“Maybe back in the before times it was useful, but its hard to use when everyone involved intimately knows their own,” Trixie spoke up. “I’m surprised they even bothered to develop it.”

That drew a collective nod from the war table, including yours.

“So, how different is it to pilot an Edenian ship?” Oliver asked, looking to you.

That drew other eyes to you. You shrugged. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I haven’t been behind the controls of a COI ship before, so I can’t even begin to say. I imagine that we can sit down and I can teach everyone the basics today, before we get clear of the station and could begin to expect more fly-bys.”

“I’m guessing you’d be primary pilot, then; can you fly one of those things with one hand?” Wanda asked, her tone even.

You gave a single nod. “I’ve never had to try it, but I’m pretty confident I can. I’ve been in more skirmishes than I can count, and one of my roles was perimeter guard, so I’ve spent a lot of time as a pilot,” you said with confidence. “But, I understand that I’m… still used to having two hands, and welcome your expertise and assistance.” You looked to the three of them equally.

Your team nodded. They weren’t Brothers, but they were your charges, and that thought helped it worm into your brain that to work together, you needed to not be defensive with them.

“Probably would be best to do that then, before the freighter aweighs anchor,” Hubert suggested.

You and your team nodded and made agreement noises, but before anyone could stand, Rylee caught your attention; “Before that, while we are still in meeting mode.” You and your team moved to watch her. “As your work station also includes the bridge of the Iridescent, we have some ground rules to cover—while yes, Simon is your mission captain, you still will be working under my direct supervision and along side my crew. I expect that my crew will be given their space to perform their usual tasks for the Iridescent, though they, as well as myself, will be available for questions and guidance in cases where it’s needed. Umbra has given me special direction to allow you to do your duties as needed—this is unprecedented, so there may be some toes stepped on, but I’m sure we can find our footing along side one another, especially as this is such an important mission that you folks are undertaking, both for me and the rest of the Consolidation.”

A slough of “yes, captain”s arose from the war table, both from your team and the Iridescent crew.

When she seemed done speaking, you couldn’t help but ask a question you had come to mind; “Forgive my stupid question, captain, but, are you a councilor?” Surely the captain of the Iridescent had to be, right? It’d make sense that the leaders of the Consolidation were also the leaders of their stations.

“Not a stupid question at all, Simon, especially not from someone so new to the Consolidation; I am indeed,” she gave you a sincere smile.

Adrenaline dumped into your veins at the confirmation, and subsequent realization: she knew who you were. Trying not to let fear control your mindset, you nodded and took a steadying breath. You pushed a hundred different thoughts out of your mind, and tried to focus on your work with Doctor Beckett, formulating a response that was appropriate; “Speaking of, new to the Consolidation… Thank you for sending Veronica to lead me up here. I don’t think I would have found the bridge before launch, if she hadn’t.”

Rylee chuckled, and her eyes trailed over to one of your team members; she gave a dismissing hand wave, likely to a nonverbal request to leave. As she spoke, Peter and Trixie standing to go back to their stations caught your attention momentarily. “Of course; I’m very aware of the size and layout of the Iridescent is beyond confusing to folks who have never been on it, and while a Consolidate may be able to navigate it properly given their map, I’ve had my share of Edenites walk these halls, and it’s always behooved everyone to give them a hand.” She caught her unintended reference, and gave you a sheepish look. “I’m so sorry, that was rude of me.”

Veronica seemed to catch it first, and you heard her stifle a snort. You blinked for a second, then realized what Rylee had said, and gave her a relinquished smile. “It’s, fine.”

“Rudeness aside, please do not hesitate to let me know if you need any accommodations while you’re with us,” Rylee continued.

You nodded. “Thank you, captain.” You watched her, quietly for several moments, before you hazarded to say anything, and you did so with your voice low. “You know who I am…”

Her smile tightened, and she spoke in an equally quiet voice. “I do. But I viewed your official statements. And if Umbra trusts you, then I have to. After all, who better to figure out what Eden’s planning to do to my ship?”

You took in another steadying breath; you could feel Veronica’s eyes boring into you. “Thank you for your trust, captain.”

She nodded, her smile softening. “Now. You should probably get to it, as well should we. We still have docked procedures to see to.”

You nodded and moved to stand, retrieving your satchel from where it sat at your feet before moving to head toward your team.

“Once post-launch procedures are completed, I’ll show you folks to your work stations so you can get on with your mission,” she called after you, and you and your new team gave her a nearly in unison “Yes, captain,” in response.

As you stepped up to your team, Hubert held up his PII. “Everyone gather ‘round, might as well register everyone while we’re all right here.”

“Oh, right,” Wanda said almost under her breath as she dug her tablet out of her pocket, and Oliver nodded before doing so as well. You’d nearly forgotten that it was a thing that could be done, seeing as so far, everyone’s contact info but Alyx had come pre-loaded into your tablet. You dug yours out as well, and the four of you held your tablets up in a haphazard square; while you were trying to tap into the messaging program to add folks as well, you got new contact notifications—they were so much faster than you at this.

As folks started to take their tablets back, you caught Oliver looking at your little tablet curiously; by the time you got into the messaging program, you noticed that one of them had also started a group message history. You’d have to figure out how to do that one day…

Hubert and Wanda tucked their tablets away, prompting you to do the same, and Hubert nodded toward the elevator, prompting folks to follow him. As the lot of you turned to head to the elevator that you’d come in on, Wanda spoke up; “Any idea where we’re going?”

“I’ve been on the Iridescent before,” Oliver replied, “not for too long, but long enough that I got the basic hang of the layout.”

“As I’d hope for a navigator,” Wanda said with mirth.

He gave her a wry smile. “We’ll have to take a couple elevators,” he gave you a glance. “I would hope you got permission to take us to the airdock?”

“I was told I did, yes,” you replied as he held his tablet up to open the elevator, which in response the door opened immediately. “And, my PII worked coming to the bridge, so unless something got flagged wrong, my permissions were correctly given.”

You and the team stepped into the elevator, and Oliver pushed the D3 button on the destination panel.

As the elevator began, Hubert spoke up. “Eden’s special forces, huh?”

His tone was curious, but something about the question itself made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You looked to him to gauge his expression; he was studying you, but seemed more intrigued than critical. “It’s, the best way I can describe it, since I’m, pretty sure that the COI doesn’t have anything similar to compare it to.”

He blinked at you, almost with boredom. “If, I could give you a tip, sir, with respect.”

You gave him a curious look, but so did Wanda and Oliver.

“Call it ‘the Consolidation.’ I don’t know if your goal is to fit in or try to stick out, but, while yeah, our acronym is COI, you sound like an Edenite when you say it. Other than that, if you hadn’t told us you were from Eden, I wouldn’t have guessed,” he said with a casual tone.

You caught Oliver give you a glance out of the corner of your eye, his expression concerned. Wanda nodded in agreement. You chewed on that for several long moments, looking between the team before giving a nod. “I will, keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“He’s right,” Wanda butted in. “I’ve worked with a couple Edenites before and you’re nothing like them. What’s so special about the forces you worked in?”

You looked to her as the elevator slowed to stop. “I worked directly for the leader of Eden, I know how to work with people.”

That raised her eyebrows in surprise. “How the fuck did we catch you, then?”

You turned toward the elevator door as it opened, and stepped out after Oliver, following his lead. “That’s a, long story I don’t want to tell.”

“Fair enough,” came Wanda’s voice behind you.

“She has a point too, though,” came Hubert’s voice. “The couple Edenites I’ve run into never said a word to anyone, kept to themselves. You seem different.”

You had to chew on that, and did so for several hallways worth of walking. “It’s, hard to forcibly have your entire life uprooted, to live with folks that have for so long been your enemies, to be expected to completely forget the culture you grew up with and adopt a new one, and to know that you’re surrounded at all times by people who have power over you, by sheer force of we’re here, being allowed to live, on your good graces,” you said carefully. “I can see why my Brothers shy away from interacting with Consolidates—I do too, for the most part. But, I have a job to do, and being a leader is what I’m used to.”

The team was quiet as Oliver led you through winding hallways, hopefully reflecting on your words. Eventually, Oliver led your group to another elevator, and he turned to you. “We’ll need your PII this time.”

You nodded, and pulled it out, holding it up to the scanner.

As the elevator traveled to your level, Hubert spoke up again, “As our captain, sir, we don’t have power over you.”

You didn’t look to him. “You do though.” Information from integration class came filtering back into your mind, and you turned to look to him before you spoke again. “Understand that one wrong move I make, even if it was a misinterpretation on your part, if a complaint, or something that sounds like a complaint,about me gets around to a supervisor, it gets reported to my council member. While the council would prefer to keep us working members of the Consolidation, complaints lodged get used against us, and can limit what we are allowed to do, limit the already stressful and isolated lives we live here.”

Hubert and Wanda watched you with a mixture of confusion and concern.

“I understand why my Brothers keep their heads down—it’s hard to piss anyone off that way,” you said, turning upon hearing the elevator’s door open to step inside.

When the team had, quietly, filtered into the elevator, Oliver pushed the one airdock button that was lit up orange, Airdock 3—you had to assume that was the correct one, if not due to the fact the elevator began to move when the button was pressed, but also because it matched the information Veronica had given you.

The elevator traveled in silence for a good couple minutes before you spoke up; “I was raised with the expectation of my team being able to check me. I expect the same from all of you, as my experts on this mission. I don’t want power over you, I want to work together.”

As the team turned to glance at you and give asynchronous “Yes, sir”s, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was why your Brothers had such a hard time fitting in. As already misunderstood and misjudged folks, with the threat of punishment hanging over their heads, they were disincentivised from speaking up, thus were disallowed a major part of their communication skills. While the pessimistic part of you didn’t think this revelation would change anything, you wondered if giving Joseph and the Doctor this information would help at all. You’d have to send them a message before the Iridescent got too far from the station.

Maybe it was time the Consolidation got a lesson on Edenian culture, even the playing field if they expected to have Edenites in their numbers.

When the elevator arrived, your group stepped out into the airdock and gave a scan of the hanger. There were multiple personnel sized transports stored here, but the Edenian one stood out like a sore thumb, it’s construction more angular than the COI’s rounded style. You made your way toward it, hearing the team’s boot steps keeping pace with you.

The ship was in surprisingly good condition for what you expected it to look like, having been in a skirmish with the COI. The thought occurred that maybe it was Caleb’s old ship, remembering how he’d mentioned that his ship had been shot inoperable and he’d been salvaged along with it. As you stepped up to it, you looked to Wanda. “Did you get a report on the state of the ship’s repair?”

She nodded and pulled out her PII. “I need to open the doc to refresh myself, but I remember reading that it’s been in storage for about 5 years, and was repaired a couple years ago with salvaged engines.”

You looked to the ship. Yep, that had to be his… You pulled out your PII and tapped around on it until you got to Caleb’s message history, and readjusted your grip to type. “Hey, do you remember the passcode to your old ship, the one you were captured in? I could probably crack it myself, but if you remember it that’d be a huge help.”

You looked up to your team to see Hubert and Oliver watching you curiously while Wanda tapped around on her PII. Before you could say something, your PII made the message received sound, and you looked to it.

“What the fuck do you mean you can crack it, DO YOU HAVE IT?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Code please.”

His messages came in two lines. “183548. SIMON??”

“Thanks Bro, I’ll explain later, I’m on a time crunch.” You moved to slip your PII back into your pocket, and stepped toward the back hatch of the ship. “If I get a call, everyone ignore it,” you said, chuckling—as soon as you’d said it, a pulsing sound came from your pocket.

“What was that about?” Oliver asked as he followed you.

“Believe it or not, I know who this ship belonged to, and was able ask him for the passcode for it, so I won’t have to use the override code to break into it,” you said ignoring the tablet in your pocket and moving to a small panel on the hull beside the hatch. A swift punch to the panel with the side of your hand dislodged it and it slid back to reveal an old physical keypad.

“That’s a small fucking world,” Hubert said with awe from behind you.

“He’s going to be so mad at me that I’m ignoring him, but, we’ve got work to do, and he knows it,” you said, punching in the passcode he gave you.

A mechanical groan erupted from the top of the ship as the hatch’s locking mechanism disengaged, and the hatch itself released with a hiss to open in a wide arc down to the floor of the airdock, making a ramp up into the vessel. That felt so nostalgic… You didn’t realize how much you’d missed that until now.

Ignoring a message received sound from your pocket, you moved to step onto and up the ramp into the ship, and from behind you, you registered two sets of boot steps following you. Eden’s typical 4-person craft was cramped, always had been, but had plenty of space for you and your Brothers to work well without being under each others’ noses—you had to hope that your new crew wouldn’t be too uncomfortable getting elbow-to-elbow. The hatch led into the cargo space, which was large enough to fit a few days’ worth of provisions for the squad, extra hardvac suits, and plenty of hardware for taking salvage, as well as a little extra space for salvage itself; there was nothing in the cargo bay at the moment, which made it feel eerily empty—you were used to your ships always being prepared to fly out. A curved and narrow staircase led up to the crew quarters: 4 narrow bunks—of which they’d been stripped—some storage under the floor, and a tiny restroom you could barely turn around in. Passing down the hallway in between the bunks led to another, mirrored staircase that stepped up into the cockpit; the space was as large as the cargo bay, and every wall was covered in monitors, gauges, knobs, dials, and levers. A large window took up about a quarter of the real estate in front wall of the ship, and even then, monitors hung in front of it; four seats welded to the floor in an even fan occupied the floor space directly in front of the control panel, offering even distribution and ease of access to the work space for the entire crew.

You moved toward the center right seat—traditionally the squadron leader and pilot’s seat, your seat. While not the exact model of ship you were most familiar with, you’d been in all of them, and with a quick glance, knew exactly the control layout that you were looking at.

“Are all Edenian ships this cramped?” Oliver asked as he squeezed himself out of the staircase up into the cockpit, and then got a glance around the space.

“I’ve seen one-man-crew ships bigger than this, fuck,” Hubert swore from down in the crew quarters.

You had to chuckle as you watched Oliver study the ship. “Eden has a culture of lacking personal space, because it was a colonial station. This is home to me.”

“Ooh, this ship is cozy isn’t it,” came Wanda’s voice from back in the cargo bay. “Where’s the internal maintenance hatches?”

“There’s one on the internal wall of the cargo bay opposite of the staircase up, and one here in the cockpit,” you called back toward Wanda.

“Oh I see it, thanks,” she called back.

As Oliver moved to stand beside you and study the control panel, Hubert’s boot steps came up the staircase to the cockpit. As soon as he poked his head in, he made a face. “How the fuck did four of you spend any amount of time like this? I think if I had to spend more than an hour in this tin can, I’d go crazy.”

His referring to the ship as a “tin can” dug up painful memories of claustrophobic rusted metal walls, dripping blood, out of the back of your mind—that was something you’d not thought about for a few days. You moved to brush your hand over the control panel to feel it’s familiarity and took a steadying breath, then focused on formulating a response to keep yourself in the present. “We were carefully selected crews of people raised together,” you replied, keeping your tone as even as you could—you didn’t appreciate his words, but understood where he was coming from. “There’s a reason we’re called Brothers.” You watched him as he stepped in, studying the space scrutinously. “Think you’d be able to fly with us if it comes down to intercepting the aggressors?”

He looked to you. “I guess,” he didn’t sound enthused, but at least his tone was confident.

“So, how does it turn on?” Oliver asked, looking around the control panel.

You moved to actually sit in your selected chair, and reached for the start-up sequence—then paused. You held up your hand in a “wait” motion, and moved to pull your PII from your pocket. You ignored the message that Caleb had sent you, and tapped into calling him.

“Simon don’t you fucking ignore me like that—” his voice was muffled as he spoke immediately upon answering your call.

You chuckled and moved to press the speaker control. “I told you, I’m on a time crunch. Hey, any quirks that I need to know about this thing?”

“You actually fucking have my ship??” His voice was loud and clear now that the tablet was projecting the call.

“Yeah, code worked just fine, thanks for that,” you said genuinely.

“How the fuck do you have my ship—”

“I said I’ll explain later, I’m still on a time crunch. Quirks, Bro; I don’t want to start her until I know her quirks.”

He made a grumpy noise. “She lists left like there’s no tomorrow and coasts with ease, you gotta dethrottle her well before reaching your target.”

You made mental note of that, looking toward Oliver and Hubert, who also gave an affirming nod. “Anything on start-up? Any buttons sticky? Anything I need to know?”

“If they haven’t touched her in five years, who the fuck knows what could have gone wrong without regular maintenance, but. No, nothing wrong with start-up. Her left most monitors always were staticky, Kora could never figure out what was wrong, even after swapping cables, so if you do get into a scrap watch your left really carefully. Terry swears up and down that her throttle issues were in the throttle adjuster but I never could figure out what the fuck he was talking about. Uh… Gregor punched a hole in the compass when they shot out our engines, so unless that got noticed, it’s probably still busted. Actually now that I think of it, if they gave her new engines, maybe you won't have her listing issue. I dunno though, we never got that figured out and just lived with it.”

Upon hearing a navigation system was damaged, Oliver looked around carefully and pointed to a smashed dial in between the two left-most seats. Not only was the glass broken, but the needle underneath and the spinneret it once spun on was bent. Hubert nodded, and you muttered “shit,” under your breath.

“Any knocks or whistles?” you asked. “Was she still air-tight when they picked you up?”

“Um. I think she was air tight, yeah. Yeah, she was, Terry had his helmet off when they salvaged us. As for concerning sounds, uh, there weren’t any before we got salvaged. Dunno if she’ll make any now, though.”

“Anything else you can think of? I don’t know how well we’ll be able to keep in touch once the Iridescent launches.”

“Fuck, Bro, I dunno. It’s been five years. You’re not supposed to be going too far out with this little mission though, so we should still be able to get messages through the relay, if not voice, if I remember anything else later. Hey hey—don’t you fucking dare come home more hurt than you already are, do you hear me Simon? As your medic, as your Brother, I swear to the Tree that I will fucking feed you to her if you do.”

You couldn’t help but smile and laugh. “I’ll fly safe, Brother.”

“You better fucking fly safe and come back whole. The Last Tree needs you, Brother,” he said, surprising you that he remembered your old send-off.

“Well,” you laughed. “Not sure I can come back whole—”

“AS WHOLE AS YOU ARE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, YOU ASSHOLE,” he barked, making you laugh harder.

From the other side of the communication, you just barely heard Lea’s voice come through; “Holy shit, Caleb, chill.”

The antics pulled a snort out of Hubert, and Oliver was stifling laughter.

“I’ll fly safe, Caleb,” you reinforced, unable to promise him anything. “Catch up with you later.”

“That wasn’t a ‘Yes, Brother’!”

You gave him a soft sigh. “Yes, Brother. Fuck you.”

“Good, fuck you too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as the communication cut off. It felt so good to be sitting in a familiar cockpit, with familiar sights and smells and antics with your Brother. Remembering that you weren’t with a squadron of Brothers made you glance up at your new teammates, of which Hubert was watching you with an incredulous look, but Oliver had a shy smile, as though he was embarrassed to get caught finding it funny.

“Is that how Edenites interact, normally?” Hubert asked.

You nodded. “At least, us Brothers. Like I said, we were raised together, and checked each other. I may have been a leader, but my Brothers all had the power to question my decisions or tell me to fuck off— it was my expertise and their faith in my decision making that made me leader. But, that means we’re all a little crass with each other, because no one’s more powerful than the other.”

“I’d never had figured, with how quiet other Edenites are,” Oliver said carefully.

You looked to the control panel. “I think that’s what we’re missing. We’re not able to be ourselves and truly productive members of the Consolidation unless we can talk back; I’m gonna send a message to my councilor about it when we’re done here. But. Let me show you the startup sequence—wait.”

Wanda had asked about the maintenance hatches. You put up a “one moment” gesture with your hand before Oliver or Hubert could move, and stood from your chair. Weaving past Oliver, not going out of your way to avoid brushing shoulders with him just as you wouldn’t with a Brother, you ducked down into a corner between a wall covered in gauges and the control console, and to the floor. There was a hatch with a pull tab that groaned when you tried to pick it up, but it released with a good yank.

“Hey Wanda, I’m gonna fire her up. Watch your loose bits,” you raised your voice, projecting it down into the innards of the ship.

“You got it, boss,” her voice sounded both far away and extremely close with how it bounced around the mechanicals of the ship’s guts. “She’s looking sound, so she shouldn’t give you any trouble!”

“You let me know if that changes,” you called back.

“You bet!”

You let the hatch hang open for the moment so you could hear if Wanda was calling for you, and stood to go back to your seat. As you moved to sit, you gestured to the others to come closer so they could see. Both pulled out their PIIs, and you assumed it was to take notes.

“The controls are designed in such a way to allow the seats beside this one to pilot as well, just in case anything happens, or the pilot is distracted. Remember how I said, Brothers are able to check each other. I expect the same; if for some reason I’m distracted or incapacitated, and you see a correction that needs to be made, take it from me, understood?” You looked between both Oliver and Hubert, and both nodded. “Judging by… the…” you took a steadying breath as you tried to form the words you wanted to say, “the, one. COI-built machine I’ve piloted, I, have to assume it wasn’t anything like a normal ship, but…”

“Are you okay, sir?” Oliver asked.

You shook your head. “No. But, I will be.” You swallowed and continued, trying to push the sub out of your mind. “Our, controls don’t look too different from each other.” You set your hand on a throttle handle that you immediately took your hand off of as it felt too familiar. Wait, was the sub made also of salvaged Edenian ship parts? You took a steadying breath before continuing, gesturing to the throttle. “Throttle,” you said tightly—were you going to be able to do this?

“Sir, what’s wrong?” Hubert asked in a commanding tone.

“Um,” you started, unsure how to broach the subject. You glanced around the control panel, trying to ground yourself. “My Realization was… traumatic. I… piloted something that had no business existing, so it’s a little… I didn’t expect to be this nervous around one of my own ships…”

“Walk us through start-up. No piloting today,” Oliver said gently, stepping closer to put his hand on your left shoulder.

You looked up to him, and nodded a bit. “Right.” You looked to the control panel—that was certainly not there in the sub. “Primer, primary engine, booster engines, grav field,” you said in order, first gesturing to the buttons you were referring to before you pushed them, allowing your hand to move over them in a practiced motion.

The ship groaned as the start up sequence began, and the comforting familiarity of the engine’s purr rumbling through your body helped bring you back to the present. The hum of the booster engines quickly became out-volumed as the computers within the cockpit began to come on, each one clicking or screeching with a homeliness you didn’t realize you had been missing. Oliver and Hubert looked around the cockpit in awe as the dozens of monitors came on, first displaying the symbol of Eden, then flashing over to what the monitor normally displayed.

“Listen to that engine purr!” came Wanda’s voice, hardly audible over the engine from where ever she was under the floor.

You chuckled and continued the start up sequence, making sure to grab your teammates’ attention so they were watching. “Then we move over here; you can tell this was a team effort,” you said, a bit louder now that the ship was fighting you for volume. You scooted over to the chair to your left, the navigator’s chair. “Nav computer, gyroscope, primary electromagnetic field, exterior camera system, homing system,” you stated as you pushed each button. “The homing system isn’t going to work, in this instance, since we’re not on Eden’s network for it to connect to, but that’ll probably be something you’re going to fuck with, isn’t it?” You looked to Hubert.

He nodded.

“Last but not least,” you stood and scooted over to the far right chair of the cockpit. “Comms computer, comms receiver, comms transceiver,” you said in order, pushing the requisite buttons. “It has to be that order or the startup will fail because of how the comms is looking for a signal before it sends one,” you said, looking to Hubert again.

“Gotcha. Is there a partial power mode that I can use to mess around with the computers without it needing to be fully on?” he asked.

“Because I don’t know what systems you’re going to be fucking with, I can’t entirely say yes. You can skip booster engines and grav field, but for the other systems, they have to come up in the order that I gave or they won’t operate correctly. They have dependencies from the other subsystems,” you replied, speaking not entirely surely.

He nodded. “That sounds about right. If I work on it without you present, I’ll just fire it up to those parameters. Where’s the primary computer, or, does it have multiple that work in concert?”

“It’s multiple, for redundancy. Each computer has a port at each seat—redundancies. From left to right: data storage, nav brain, engine brain, and comms brain.” You scooted your knees out of the way so you could gesture to where the ports were located, about halfway up the wall plate underneath the control panel and directly between your knees were you sitting facing correctly.

“Handy,” Hubert chirped, sounding impressed. He moved to put his PII in one of his pockets, and took off a backpack you hadn’t realized he’d been wearing, then moved to sit in the seat directly to your left. Placing the backpack beside him on the floor, he took a bigger tablet out of it, as well as a set of cables.

You watched as he did so with curiosity, but Oliver caught your attention; he was looking incredibly lost at the sheer number of monitors, especially the ones that were displaying the hanger around the ship. “Oh, I recently learned that the Consolidation doesn’t use their external cameras much, so I’m not surprised you’re looking lost.”

He gave a nervous chuckle. “Uh, yes, sir. Why are the external cameras on?”

“All of Eden’s ships use them constantly. They’re live feed, not recording, but it gives us a 360 view around us, meaning we’re not solely relying on sensors. It’s an integral part of how we skirmish. I’m not going to expect you all to learn how to skirmish the Edenian way, so if we do get into a skirmish, I’ll keep an eye on the monitors. But, if I ask what’s on my left or right, or where something went, that’s how you check,” you instructed, watching Oliver absorb the information like it was revolutionary—honestly, you knew that it was to the Consolidation. “I spoke with Umbra about reactivating the external cameras on stations, because while Eden doesn’t know that the cameras were inoperable, it makes a lot of sense now how we successfully hit so many targets through the years.”

You glanced up at the monitors on the left side of the cockpit; just as Caleb had mentioned, several of the screens were horribly fuzzy, like the electronic shielding on them had been removed and they were getting interference. Caleb said Kora had tried replacing cables, but had they tried figuring out if the shielding was bad? Something to think about.

“If you wanted to send off that message you were talking about, sir, I think we can handle the edits from here,” Hubert spoke up. When you looked back to him, you noticed that he’d plugged his tablet into all four of the ports where he was sitting, and had pulled up a coding interface that looked familiar—that was an Edenian program.

“Wait, how did you do that?” you asked, leaning over to see what he was doing.

“Oh, this? I’ve studied Eden’s operating system from hardware we’ve captured previously in order to figure out how to reset the hardware for our use, which is why Umbra asked me specifically on this mission,” he replied gesturing to his tablet. “This tablet is my personal tablet with Eden’s OS side-installed on it; I’ve used it to do a lot of experimentation and reverse engineering of their software. With it, I can reroute this thing’s comms system to not only accept our communications but also give this ship any tag, and even eventually get it to run our navigation systems so it can properly ping our relays. Honestly, I’m surprised that Umbra didn’t already have that done to this thing.”

“Umbra told me that ze had this ship stashed away for just such an occasion as this. The fact ze had it repaired in the first place is surprising to me,” you replied.

Oliver moved to sit in the seat on the opposite side of Hubert. As he did, Wanda’s head poked out of the hatch you’d opened earlier to the maintenance crawlspace. “Now that you mention it, that’s probably why I’m here, too; I’ve been scrapping these ships since the QR. Cool as hell to see one in this good of shape though; as different as they are from Iron ships, that’s what makes them interesting to work on. Glad to be here, sir,” she said, hauling herself out of the hatch and into the cockpit.

Her sudden appearance took you by surprise, but only because you’d forgotten she’d been in the ship’s guts. “How’s she looking?”

“Fit and ready to fly, sir!” she said, getting to her feet to look around the cockpit.

“Excellent, thank you for looking her over,” you replied.

Oliver looked to Wanda and gestured to the broken compass on the console. “Think that’s something that could get replaced before a flight?”

Wanda moved over to study it. “Hmm… I might be able to straighten out the mechanicals, if it’s not too damaged, but replacing it is out of the question—I just don’t have replacement parts on hand. That’s the thing I find most fascinating about Edenian builds, they’re so physical. It’s pleasantly archaic,” she said with admiration.

You blinked at her words. Is that why the Consolidation thought Edenians were technophobes? Just because Eden used mechanical and physical interfaces? “The more complex the coding, the more it glitches. Delicate switches misfire, touch interfaces fail. Eden’s an original colonial station, it’s in our culture to use physical interfaces and redundancies to combat fatigue on delicate parts.”

She looked to you. “..I’d never thought of it that way. So much of Iron’s tech is robust, top of the line from the before times, so now that you mention it, yeah, we just expect our stuff to last, not design around it eventually failing.”

Hubert looked to her, his brows furrowed. “What station are you from that you keep calling it “Iron”,” he asked, sounding perplexed.

She chuckled. “I got it from the metallurgy guild on Damsel. Rest assured, no one else calls it that; it’s just hard coded into my lexicon at this point.”

Hubert made an expression that said “oh, you do you”, and turned back to his tablet.

You looked to Wanda and gestured to the fuzzy left-side monitors. “Actually, could I have you look at that? My Brother said that his mechanic tried replacing the cables back in the day, but that didn’t fix the issue. I’m thinking electromagnetic shielding issues, but, I’d rather have an expert’s opinion on that.”

“Sure thing, boss, that shouldn’t be hard to diagnose nor fix,” she said, moving to pull a small meter out of a pouch on her hip.

A ping noise came through the ship’s hull and over the ship’s engine noise, and was followed by an announcement. “Attention occupants of the Iridescent: this is your captain speaking. We have a half an hour of dock time before we are launching; if your destination is Derin Station, please make your way to airlock 26A to disembark. I repeat, the Iridescent will be launching in a half an hour; in a half an hour, the airlock bridges will be disengaging and we will be shoving off for Opulet Station; if your destination is Derin Station, please make your way to airlock 26A to disembark.”

Hubert caught your eyes with his. “You may want to send that message if you wanted to before we launched.”

You nodded, and moved to set your satchel on the floor beside you, and moved to free your PII’s dock from it. The control console didn’t leave much in the way of space to place the dock on it steady, but it was better than nothing, and you juggled it carefully to insert your PII into, then set it on it’s base and tapped over to your message history with Doctor Beckett.

“Hello, Doctor. I think I came to a realization of Why Edenites have been having so much trouble integrating into Consolidation culture. I’m happy to talk more about it when I return from my assignment, but, in Edenian culture, we were raised to be able to correct our fellows, even our superiors, and expect to have our words considered. I do understand that COI culture is not like this, but, this is a huge part of our communication skills. You’re seeing so many Edenites self-isolating and not interacting with COI natives out of Fear of further punishment and outside-enforced isolation; when checking each other is considered rude or insubordination and is punishable here, a part of our communication skills is being taken away from us. It’s no wonder Edenites only want to interact with each other, we can actually be ourselves with each other, without fear of punishment. If the COI wants Edenites to properly integrate with COI culture, the COI needs to be willing to accept that Edenites aren’t being rude, we’re just blunt, and if we’re truly valued members of our teams, then we deserve to have our voices heard without fear of punishment. I think this is very important for the council to know too, but I don’t know if it’s appropriate for me to send Joseph this message as well.”

You read the message over several times to make sure it said exactly what you wanted to say before sending it off. There was a fear in the back of your mind that even speaking out like this was against what was allowed of you, but that’s why you second guessed yourself and decided only to send it to the Doctor, and not straight to Joseph. Joseph had made it clear that you can be honest with vir, but this seemed to be overstepping, and if the Doctor gave the go-ahead for you to discuss it with vir, then you would.

You looked over to your team to check on them. Hubert and Oliver were sitting bent over Hubert’s tablet and were talking in voices just barely loud enough to hear each other over the purr of the engine. Wanda had disengaged one of the monitors off the wall and was affixing a metallic looking tape to the back of it—which is what caught your attention most, and you watched her doings more closely.

Looking at the monitor beside the one she had taken down, one you could have sworn had been having static, no longer was, and so you watched her with intrigue as she finished up her work on the monitor she’d taken down, and was returning it the wall. The picture was clear—at least, far, far clearer than it had been before you’d asked her to take a look at it. She then moved onto the next monitor in the row, and proceeded to affix the metallic tape to where a cable was connected into a rear port on the monitor. Huh. Maybe it had been the electromagnetic shielding—you weren’t sure what the tape she was using was, and you didn’t want to interrupt her work.

Your dock made the message received sound, and you looked to it with both apprehension and hope for what the Doctor’s message could contain.

“That is an intriguing observation, Simon, and I would love to speak with you more about it when you return! I also feel that this is an important topic for the council to know, but I think I would like to hash out details about it more with you—and Caleb!—before I bring it before the council. What made you think of this?”

Your eyes lingered on Caleb’s name in the message—it still felt wrong that you were being allowed to interact with him, and this was just proof of why it felt wrong. You both, together, were an experiment, in the COI’s eyes. You felt horrible for your Brothers who were still isolated, and that fact sunk into your consciousness the longer you were away from your new home station, from the Brother you were being allowed to interact with. You bit the inside of your cheek—surely the Doctor wanted to speak to you both for corroboration, but your brain couldn’t help but catastrophize; had you just fucked yourself and doomed you two to be separated?

The inside of your cheek hurt by the time you realized how hard you were biting it. Your thoughts were pulled away from the message by Wanda stepping over to you; you looked up at her as she loomed over you.

“All done, sir. You were right, the shielding on the connection between the cable and the port was either never installed on that set of monitors, or stripped for some reason. Some lead foil has the signal sending strong again,” she reported.

It took you a moment to process that—where had she gotten lead foil? Was that just a part of her every day tool kit? It was that prevalent? It didn’t matter, and you gave her a nod and the best sincere smile you could manage with your head still in panic mode. “Thank you, Wanda.”

“I’ll try to fix that compass, but if I can’t fix the physicality of it, is there some way we can make a backup? Route a digital display somewhere, maybe?” she asked.

“Um,” you looked away from her to think. “I, honestly don’t know, but I, would think that would be possible. That might be something to ask Hubert or Oliver; I can read code, but I’m not the greatest at coding myself.”

She nodded. “Will do. Anything else you can think of?”

You shook your head, looking to her. “Nothing else was brought to my attention; I trust your judgment on the state of the ship otherwise.”

She nodded once more. “Thank you, sir,” she replied before stepping away.

You turned to watch her try and slide in between Oliver and the far left seat so she could check out the compass, and caught how comfortable they seemed with getting brushed passed; it made Hubert’s comment of how cramped the ship was seem misplaced—for everything you’d seen so far, folks in the Consolidation seemed to be just fine being in others’ spaces. Maybe it was just the tight quarters…

You looked back to your PII dock and the message there. You bit your other cheek—not having learned the first time, you thought to yourself—and moved to type a response to the Doctor. “The team that I’m working with here on the Iridescent has complemented me constantly how different I seem from other Edenites they’ve worked with. I think that’s because I have better training on how to talk with folks who wield power over me, and I realized that I got that skill because of my specific position in Eden. My Brothers don’t have that skill, because we didn’t wield power over Each Other. It also came to mind because my team here expected to yield their expertise to my leadership, solely due to my temporary position, not my skills. This is opposite of Edenian culture, and any Edenite that finds themself in a position of leadership here, will not be getting the communication they expect in return from their crew unless they also realize this and instruct their crew of this, like I did my team here, which likely will make their performance suffer.”

Again, you read the message several times to make sure it said exactly what you wanted it to before sending it off. You looked over to check in on the team, and saw Wanda had managed to get the compass to come apart, and was sitting in the far left seat, wrestling with the spinneret between two sets of pliers, trying to straighten it. Hubert and Oliver were still hunched over the tablet, but Oliver seemed to be more actively engaged as they spoke.

The message received sound pulled your attention back to the dock.

“I appreciate your observation skills, Simon, and I’m looking forward to speaking more about this when you return! I’m glad you were able to realize this, and I absolutely see your position and argument. Hopefully together we can square this away for you and your Brothers—the Consolidation has never wanted to isolate you folks, and this very much sounds like the piece we’ve been missing this entire time. Good luck on your assignment, and a safe trip!”

You set your jaw in order to not let your emotions get to you. Maybe they would be willing to hear you out, maybe you weren’t overstepping… Maybe you would be able to help your Brothers…

You took a deep breath and moved to retrieve your PII from the dock, then slide the little tablet into your pocket, and return the dock—carefully—to your satchel.

Hubert noticed your movements beside him and looked over. “If you’re all done, we’ve got it from here, sir, we can meet you up on the bridge if you wanted to keep working.”

You nodded and moved to sling the satchel over your shoulder before standing. “I’ll do that, sure.”

Before you could go too far, a thought came to the forefront of your mind and you stopped. Turning to the team, your pause caught both Oliver and Huberts’ attention, and they looked to you.

“Um. This is going to sound like a stupid question but, this is my first work assignment… Um. How do food breaks work?” you asked. “Because of some, circumstances, I think my councilor just… Forgot to explain that part.”

Hubert blinked at you blankly while Oliver gave a soft smile.

“When you’re on assignment like this, where you’re expected to be on-site for as much of your 14 non-rest hours, take them whenever. Note, though, that food breaks count as rest hours—but, it’s also based on the honor system. If your work site overseer notices you’re gone a whole bunch, they can start counting the time you’re away, but for the most part, folks are pretty honest and you can fudge the numbers a bit in your head,” Oliver said.

You nodded and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, sir. Oh, and to, shut off the ship, just hit the primary engine button again. There’s no power-down sequence.”

“Will do, thank you sir,” Hubert said and gave you a parting wave.

You returned it, and Oliver offered you one as well.

“See you in a while, boss,” Wanda called from where she was still wrestling with the spinneret as you made your way down the flight of stairs to head back up to the bridge.

Captain Rylee looked at you blankly.

“External camera recordings, y’know, for security purposes—” you paused, the realization hitting you like a freighter. You moved to scrub the good side of your face with your hand and said just above a mutter, “That’s right… The Consolidation doesn’t use their cameras…”

She was giving you a sheepish look when you looked back to her. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize we could have been recording. It’s been so long since we used any recording devices outside of official council documents, and I can't remember the last time I held a recorded meeting.”

You traced the outline of the graft on your face where it intersected part of your beard in thought. You’d gone into the mission expecting to be able to watch back the security footage of the aggressors so you could watch for their movements, any tells, anything that could give you a clue what your Brothers were up to, but had been working on the Edenian expectation that cameras were in operation. “Okay. Um, do you have logs of the sensor data during the fly-bys?”

“That I do have,” Rylee said. She was sitting beside the workstation that she’d assigned you, at a similar workstation, and navigated around the computer in front of her with a scroll ball.

“I hate to ask, but, how difficult would it be to get those cameras recording before we leave the vicinity of Derin, before we’re a viable target for fly-bys again?” you asked as she navigated through the file tree for your original request.

“Trixie,” she called, not taking her eyes off her work.

“Yes captain?” Trixie called over from her own work station on the other side of the room.

“Work with Veronica, take the external cameras off auto and get them recording,” Rylee said, continuing her search.

“Um, where would you like the recordings stored?” Trixie asked.

“While we’re doing post-launch system checks, captain?” Veronica asked incredulously from her seat at the front-most work station on the helm.

“There should be a security branch in the file system; it might take some finding since we don’t often use it, but that’s the most appropriate spot,” Rylee ignored Veronica.

“Yes, captain,” Trixie affirmed.

You nodded; at least then they’d be easy to find when you wanted to review the recordings.

“Aha, here,” Rylee spoke in a lower voice, indicating she was speaking solely to you.

You looked to her computer, and though the interface was different from Eden’s operating system, it wasn’t terribly hard to find where she was in the file tree, and you moved to navigate to that location on the computer you sat in front of at your station.

“I’ll let you to that while I proceed with post-launch duties,” she said as you found the folder she’d indicated.

“Thank you, captain,” you nodded to her while the first of the files opened.

You scanned the information before you as she stood and walked away, the station beside you where she’d been sitting rotating to a neutral screen with the COI logo when she had moved too far away from it. As you did, you registered Rylee speaking behind you, “Yes, Veronica, because it’s just as important as our usual post-launch duties. We need to figure out what’s going on, and we only have Simon for a few days. We can't miss a chance.”

The sensor data was a mish-mashed hell of different types of scanners’ results, all intermixed as one-per-second reports filling a document, to the point that scrolling through it was almost impossible. What the actual fuck… How were you supposed to read or interpret any of this? Your brows furrowed—there had to be a better way… Investigating the interface of the reader program, you were able to find a filtering function—okay, maybe that’d work. Going back to the raw data, you began to scan it for how it was laid out so you knew what and how to filter the data.

Breaking it down chunk by chunk, you were able to figure out that the electromagnetic sensor tripped first, so it’s subreport came first on each report; it detailed time and date tripped. Following that, navigation detailed where within the electromagnetic sensor field the trip occurred; and following that, communications read, flagged, and labeled any information it could read from the triggering entity. Beyond that even still, a security automation ran logs on known entities that matched size and silhouette specifications, and spat out results based on similar entries it’s database had. It was all mindbogglingly sophisticated, once you got the hang of what you were looking at, but it still felt unnecessary when they could have just gotten a visual on it this entire time…

While analyzing the reports, layered in between all the data that the file had, deep in the communications section of the output, you spotted that the communications module was able to not just read the tags on the Edenian ship, but also their encoded IDs—it made you wonder if they kept track of each and every ship that triggered their sensors; the answer was “unlikely”, since they didn’t seem to be dedicating the man power to security as much as Eden was, but it was still a scary thought that they could if they wanted to.

Seeing that it was able to do this, you read into the ID of the ship. You didn’t know all of them by heart, but there was a pattern, and if you could follow the pattern based on which squadron was which, you could probably figure out who was piloting the ship without even seeing them once. Though you thought of this, you didn’t need to follow the pattern—your heart dropped into your stomach, and your heartrate jumped. You recognized that ID tag whole-cloth.

“No,” you breathed, and backed out of that file to go onto the next. Your thoughts swam as the next day’s file opened, and you scrolled to the first communications report and found the ID section again—it was the same ID.

“Fuck, no,” you swore under your breath as you repeated the process, only to find the next report held the same ID.

Then the next, and the next, and onward until you’d exhausted all of them—it was the same ship, doing a fly-by each day, and your breath came ragged from your heart racing.

“Fuck,” you said softly, then louder as you processed the information. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong, Simon?” Rylee called from her captain’s seat.

You made a fist and took several steadying breaths before you even attempted to respond to her. You turned your seat to look to her, and her face took on an expression of surprise, likely at how serious your expression was. “We’re in grave danger.”

She sat up straight, and scooted to the edge of her seat. “Why do you say that?” she asked, her voice suddenly very serious and professional.

“The scanner was able to read the aggressor ship’s ID tag, and every day, it’s been the same ship. That ship’s tagged with the ID of the squadron that blew up Filament Station,” you said steadily.

Your words made the rest of the flight crew turn and look at you, Veronica incredulously, Peter and Trixie with horror.

The color left Rylee’s face, and it took her several excruciating seconds to say anything in reply to that. “Are you certain? How do you know?” she asked darkly.

“Each squadron is assigned a ship—it’s our ship, our responsibility, and our tool. Being in my position, I knew who’s assignment was whose, and I know this one extremely well because it’s the squadron that betrayed me and destroyed Filament Station at the same time,” you replied, unable to keep a growl out of your tone.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see it was Veronica’s turn to lose the color in her face, and Trixie shifted uncomfortably to look at Rylee.

Rylee stared at you with horror for an extraordinarily long time, before she could tear her eyes off you and look to her crew. “My crew, hold your positions. This new information does not change our flight plans nor our holding patterns—not yet. Veronica, please dust off the combat manual and make sure the bridge crew all has a copy. I’ll message Kora to make sure that the rail gatlers are in working order.”

“Shall I send an SOS to Derin—?” Veronica started.

“No—Not an SOS. Not an SOS, but, I do agree, send an immediate priority alert,” Rylee nearly barked. “No, we can’t let Eden know that we know. We need to feign ignorance, be on our way like we have been; we can't change our patterns, they’ll know something is different.”

Veronica nodded smally and turned to do so.

“Captain, I have the external cameras running and recording,” Trixie said, her voice perturbed.

“Excellent, thank you. If you haven’t already, please code a pop up view of the associated external cameras onto the holodeck for when something triggers the sensors so we can have immediate visuals,” Rylee commanded.

“Yes, captain,” Trixie said and immediately turned around to start work.

Holodeck? you couldn’t help but wonder.

You watched as Rylee reached for her PII in her pocket, and tapped around on it a bit until a ping, similar to the one you’d heard earlier, came through speakers on the floor below the bridge. She began to speak into her tablet, and you could hear her voice echo just barely from the distance and thickness of the bulkhead; “Attention all occupants of the Iridescent, this is your captain speaking. A code yellow is being called until further notice; continue with your normal tasks, but be aware of the possibility of ship-to-ship combat. I repeat, a code yellow is being called until further notice; all personnel, continue with your normal tasks, but be prepared for the possibility of ship-to-ship combat.” She tapped a bit more on her tablet, then moved to put it back into her pocket. Then, she looked back to you. “Thank you for this forewarning, Simon… I can't imagine how you must be feeling right now.”

You took a deep breath, but it didn’t help calm you at all. She knew who you were, said she’d viewed your official statement… She knew who they were too, to an extent. You could only nod.

“Were you able to get any information about their movements?” she asked gently.

You shook your head, and swallowed to steady your voice. “Not yet, I. Found the tag while getting my bearings in reading the data, and I… couldn’t believe it. I’m going to request my team’s presence ASAP to help me analyze this—I’m just. Not familiar with this data structure.”

She nodded once. “I’ll let you know if I have any other questions, and, do bother me at any time with more information, as you see fit.”

“Yes captain,” you nodded in return, and turned to face the workstation again, then moved to pull your PII out of your pocket.

Tapping over to the messaging program, you tapped into the group history, and adjusted your grip so you could type; “I need everyone on the bridge ASAP.”

A message came through quickly, and it was labeled with Oliver’s name: “Is something wrong, sir? What’s going on that there’s a Code Yellow?”

“I need your help to parse the sensor data. I was able to find the aggressor ship’s identification, and it’s Bad news.”

“Hubert is finishing up connecting the nav system, but hasn’t begun work on the comms yet. He’s electing to stay and finish the nav at least, but I’ll come up with Wanda.”

“Thank you.”

You stared at the little screen, and tapped back to the contact list, your thumb hovering over Caleb’s name. Wait, he wouldn’t know the significance of who it was, that was after he’d been captured. Also, if you told him who it was, he’d just be more on your ass not to engage in a skirmish with them. You looked to the console in front of you, staring at the ID number in the tags. You’d been sitting on the knife’s edge whether or not to engage the aggressors, but now you had to. Right​?

You slipped your PII back into your pocket before you broke it in anger, upon realizing just how hard you were gripping the poor little machine. Instead, you set your head in your hand, elbow on the control panel.

Jedd… That smug fucker. What was his squadron Brothers’ names… Marcus, Lee… What was the last one…?

A hand on your left shoulder startled you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see Oliver standing beside you, Wanda beside him. Shit, how long had you been lost in thought?

“Are you okay, sir?” he asked; it was getting a little weird how often he asked you that.

You shook your head, lifting it out of your hand to sit upright. “No. We’re all in danger; its the same squadron who betrayed me and blew up Filament Station.”

The color left Oliver’s face, and Wanda looked at you in horror. “The fuck have they been doing for the last month just doing fly-bys then?” she asked.

You shook your head. “That’s what I need help parsing. I’m not used to this data structure, and there’s telemetry data for them in it, so we can track their movements, maybe get an idea.”

Oliver nodded and sat immediately at the workstation to the left of you, pulling his PII out of his pocket and holding it up to a scanner on the work station. The screen replaced the COI logo with a terminal, and after he replaced his little tablet in his pocket, he began to type, navigating the file tree with just the terminal.

Wanda stepped behind you and put her hands on the back of your chair, and peered over your head at the data on your screen; while you’d expect that sort of closeness from a Brother, it was strange to think that she was doing it without asking, as you’d come to expect from Consolidates—maybe she was different. “Can you scroll down, sir?”

You glanced up at her briefly before mentally shrugging and moving to do so. You went slow, but not terribly so, and stopped when one of her hands removed itself from your chair.

“There—the silhouette data. Is it the same on all the reports and documents?”

“Uh, I dunno, I was just familiarizing myself with the data structure when I recognized the ID number of the ship and raised the alarm,” you said, looking up at her.

She looked over to Rylee. “Captain, which of these are our work stations?”

“The two the boys are sitting at and the ones on the other ends of them,” Rylee replied after a moment.

“Thank you, captain,” she said, and moved to sit on your other side, mimicking Oliver to log into the computer. When her computer showed her a terminal, she leaned over to look at the file path displayed on yours, and moved to open it on her computer.

You looked over to Oliver’s screen, and watched him inadvertently demonstrate how to use the viewer program’s filter. He was incredibly fast at it, so you didn’t catch all the steps, and near immediately he had filtered just the telemetry data into displaying. Then, selecting options that were unfamiliar to you, it appeared as though he’d exported the data, and a different program popped up over top of the viewer program. As you watched, the program, which looked like a radar, began to place dots on a small curvature along the outer edge of the radar; it was literally mapping the telemetry data. Before you could say anything, Oliver selected some other options within this program, and a small hologram projector came on just above his workstation’s screen, displaying a 3d version of the radar, with a tiny representation of the Iridescent in the center, and a line of slowly flashing lights where the telemetry data had mapped the aggressor’s movements.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, studying the model. The aggressors had flown in at about 0500 and 110 degrees, and left the sensor range at about 0300 and 100 degrees, doing so in 10 seconds, based on how many points of telemetry data existed.

Oliver looked to you. “I’ll start to compile a folder of these models so you can better study them. Shouldn’t take me long.”

“Thank you sir, that’s incredibly helpful,” you nodded to him, and he turned to get back to work.

You turned to look at Wanda’s progress, and her brows were furrowed. On her screen, she still had the viewer program open, and had opened several different files at once, their windows cascaded as she flipped through each of them scrutinously. “Is something wrong?” you asked her.

She nodded slowly and absentmindedly. “The silhouette scanner is usually really good at picking up what model of ship triggered the sensor, but something is off—every scan, even on the same day, per each-second report, has a different result.” She waved her hand to you to lean in and look with her; you did so, and she was right—even within the same day’s report, one report would say one model of ship, and then the next would say a wildly different model. She selected a different day, and the reports were similar, and when looking at them in order, there was no pattern to the scanner’s results—it was like the computer was guessing.

Your brows knitted and she looked to you. “Eden’s not in the business of modifying ships, is it?”

You immediately shook your head, “Not at all. Unless something completely unexpected happened in the last three years and they were forced to hybridize whatever machines they had left, I… can't even imagine what’s going on.”

“Cloaking tech?” Oliver asked.

You looked to him, but he was still hard at work converting the telemetry data into models. “Not that I know of. I have no idea where they’d get the materials for that either.”

“A few well-placed mirrors or lead-lined panels can fool an electromagnetic scanner like that,” he replied, not taking his eyes off his work.

“Does the Consolidation just have lead at it’s disposal?” you had to ask, bewildered; you looked to Wanda, who you expected would have the answer more readily.

“Eden, doesn’t?” she asked, looking to you, nearly as confused as you were.

You shook your head. “We were always starved for it; it was one of the materials we were always scrapping when we took a Consolidation ship, or hit a station.”

“Explains the monitors…” she said under her breath, looking back to her console. “That counts out that option; what about mirrors? Aluminum?”

“Nothing large enough to fool an electromagnetic scanner to this extent,” you shook your head.

“What would even be the point of trying to fool the silhouette scanner? We know it’s Eden, we know they’re the only ones tripping it,” Oliver mused.

Wanda scrolled through each of the results, both seemingly absentmindedly as well as in thought. You followed along with her, envisioning each model in your mind; it’s guesses ranged from a twin booster engine model like the one you had in the airdock, to a single booster engine from Eden’s first fleet where the engine was mounted on it’s top rear, to a different twin booster engine model from the third fleet that was built taller than wide, to a different single booster engine model from the second fleet that was shaped completely differently from the rest.

You scrubbed at your beard in thought. “Wanda, can you, isolate the guesses and give me a breakdown of how often it guessed each model?”

She nodded and began to work on your request. “What model is the ship you’re expecting it to be?”

“The, same model we have in the hanger actually. That second fleet squat twin engine with the rear hanger hatch. It’s Eden’s most common model,” you said, watching her work.

The sound of the elevator arriving caught your attention, and you looked over to it to see the door open and Hubert step onto the bridge. He caught sight of you and headed directly for where you and the rest of the team were sitting. “Hey boss, what’s going on with the all hands Code Yellow?”

You kept your eyes on him as he stepped over, him studying Oliver and Wanda hard at work. “I recognized the ID of the aggressor ship; it’s the same squadron that betrayed me, and blew up Filament Station.”

His gait faltered and he stopped in place just a few meters from where you sat, staring at you in horror. “Oh this is real shit,” he swore. You gestured for him to continue, and he did so, moving to stop behind you and study what the others were doing. “What’s our progress?” he asked.

“Oliver is mapping me telemetry data from within the sensor data, and Wanda is analyzing the security bot’s bad set of silhouette data,” you stated.

“What do you mean the silhouette data is bad?” he said, confusion blatant in his tone.

“It’s throwing all sorts of guesses, rather than accurate matches,” she said, not looking away from her work.

“The fuck?” he swore. “What do you need me to do, sir?” he looked to you.

“Can you analyze the comms data in these documents, see if there’s anything weird. Hidden messages, strange addresses, anything,” you instructed.

He nodded once. “Where’s my station then?”

“Other side of Oliver,” you replied.

He nodded once again, leaned over you to look at the file path your console was still displaying, and then moved over to sit in the indicated seat and sign in. “Simon, sir, are you still planning on intercepting them?” he asked as he sat.

That caught Oliver’s attention, and he looked at you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that Veronica had turned to look over to you as well. You had to sit with that for a second. “I’m not sure yet. I want to see the data, first. But. They almost killed me, their own Brother, and framed me for Filament Station. I have a bone to pick with them.”

Hubert’s face went wide with surprise, but he quickly nodded, and turned to look at his console and get to work. Oliver looked concerned, but turned to continue his work as well.

Wanda must have turned to look at you too, as her voice came clear from behind your head, “You told your Brother you were going to fly safe.”

You couldn’t help but break a smile at her words, not surprised that even though she’d been in the guts of the ship, she’d been able to hear that conversation—those ships weren’t real sound tight. “I’m just going to have to disappoint him.”

She lowered her voice for her next question, and you turned to her as she spoke. “What did he mean by “feed you to the tree”?”

You gave an uncomfortable laugh, and spoke uncertainly, matching her low volume. “Um. It’s a common hyperbolic threat, on Eden. I’m sure you know about the Last Tree?” She nodded. “We… uh… give our dead, to the Tree. Nothing goes to waste, and it’s considered a great honor.”

She stopped her work and slowly looked to you. “What the fuck,” she asked more than stated, her brows raising in surprise.

You shrugged sheepishly. “That’s the culture.”

“That’s, one way, to reuse a body,” Oliver said quietly from beside you.

“What?” Hubert asked, his tone extremely confused, as likely he only heard Oliver’s response.

You and Oliver shook your heads.

“I regret asking,” Wanda said with a light tone, turning to go back to her work.

“You did ask,” Oliver chuckled.

“I did ask,” she returned.

The team fell into silence, Hubert’s obviously confused, as the conversation felt at a natural stopping point, and there being work to be done. You stared at the console in front of you, deep in thought; if you were the sacrificial lamb, and they the Judas goat, what could they possibly be doing conducting fly-bys of one of the most well-armed entities within the Consolidation? What could they possibly be planning? There was no way into this ship, not without getting shot down first.

Surely they couldn’t be planning a mass rush. Your face went cold as you thought of that. Was Father planning to go full scorched on Eden? The thought was seeming more and more likely by the second. Why now? Had they run out of supplies? Had they run out of faith?

What would you even say when you intercepted them? They were the ones who would be most unsettled hearing you hail them, though… Would they surrender to you? Maybe with the sheer power of the Iridescent behind you…

“Captain, bogey on scanners—” came a voice on the bridge you didn’t recognize.

Your heart lurched and your head snapped up, and you turned your seat around to get visuals on the situation. What you were least expecting, was a huge projection over the front window of the bridge of one of the external cameras. Was that the holodeck that Rylee had mentioned? On the projection, amongst the ghostlight of the fading stars, was the unmistakable hull of the exact Edenian ship you expected to see. It was flying parallel to the Iridescent, but from the angle of the external camera, it seemed as though they were below the ship. Why did that ship look different, though? It was subtle, but with the resolution of the camera, it was noticable.

“What are we looking at Peter?” Rylee barked.

“1800, 160 degrees. 1900. 2000, 150. Out of scan range,” came the unfamiliar voice; you hadn’t realized you hadn't actually heard Peter talk previously.

“Keep that camera on them until they can't be seen anymore,” Rylee demanded.

You stood from your seat and stepped quickly up to the front of the bridge, leaning against the control panel to get a better look at the projection. It was harder and harder to see as it got out of range that the camera’s resolution could pick up, but there was something obviously different about the ship.

“Did they literally do a U-turn?” Trixie asked.

“It appears so,” Peter replied.

“Trixie, pull that camera’s file, I want it on the holodeck,” Rylee commanded.

“Yes, captain,” she replied.

“Simon, what do you see?” Rylee asked from her seat behind you.

The ship had long since faded from the camera’s ability to process it, but you had continued watching carefully, just in case they showed back up. “I think they’re gone, for now,” you continued to watch, eyes unfocused and trying to catch movement over actually focusing on any one spot. “It’s the exact model I expected, but it looked, wrong. Different; I couldn’t catch how.”

“Clip is isolating, pulling up on the holodeck, in 3, 2, 1,” Trixie counted down.

The image of empty space was replaced by a near identical view of the fading stars, but this time the Edenian ship was approaching the camera, and you stared at it hard as it came into view. As it got closer and clearer, your brows knit—what the fuck was that on it’s roof.

“S—stop, pause the playback,” you called.

The playback paused in a second after your request, and you stood on your tiptoes instinctively to try and get an even better look at it, resting your had on the console for stability.

“Trixie, zoom in on the ship please,” Rylee requested.

After a few seconds, the image of mostly stars with a ship on the holodeck was replaced by an enormous zoomed image of the ship, and very few stars. That was much better.

“What the fuck is that,” you swore, staring at the hind roof of the ship.

“That doesn’t look like the ship we have in the airdock,” Wanda spoke up.

“Yeah it does, it just, is a little different, but, how?” Hubert said.

You looked to Trixie. “What camera is this? Can you check the recording from a nearby camera, get a different angle on this ship?”

“Of course, what angle are you trying to get?” she asked.

“I’d like as far on the side profile as you can get—any cameras on the extreme belly of this thing?” you replied.

“This was on the belly, but, maybe?” she sounded uncertain.

“Did it bank at all? That was a hell of a trajectory they left with,” Peter piped up.

“Let the playback run, let’s see if this camera caught it banking,” Rylee said.

“Yes, captain,” Trixie called.

The zoomed in image of the ship was replaced by the original camera field of view, and the playback continued. You watched with extreme focus, and the clip wasn’t long, even with the amount of time the camera was able to keep it in view over what the scanners could. Eventually, the ship did bank, and before you could even request a pause, the playback paused.

“Zooming in,” Trixie called.

You waited just a few seconds in tense anticipation as Trixie isolated the zoom and posted it to the holodeck. As soon as it was large, it was extremely obvious what was different. “What the fuck is that fin on the back of the ship?” you asked aloud, to no one in particular. “That’s not supposed to be there, I’ve never seen that before.”

“Is, is that a long-range transmitter?” came Hubert’s voice.

Your blood ran cold and you snapped your head around to look at him. “Eden—doesn’t use that technology. Is that what that is?”

“Looks like it to me. What the fuck kinda technology has Eden been developing since you were captured?” Hubert asked rhetorically.

“Apparently stand-ins for his absence…” Rylee said darkly. “I’m glad we have you here now though.”

“If that is a long-range transmitter, who knows what information they’ve been gathering on us over the last month,” Trixie said, her tone troubled.

You looked to Rylee. She took a deep breath, and didn’t say anything.

“Simon, the clip has been isolated for you and is in a security folder marked for your team,” Trixie said, turning to look to you.

“Thank you, Trixie,” you replied, leaning on the console as adrenaline filtered out of your body.

“I’ve almost pulled all of the telemetry data for you, sir; I’ll map this one as well so you can have it as another data point to study along side the others,” Oliver said.

“Thank you, Oliver,” you replied once more, this time hauling yourself off the console to move back to your seat and plop into it.

“If that is a long-range transmitter, maybe it has a transceiver. I’ll make that a scope of my search,” Hubert said.

“Thank you, Hubert,” you replied reflexively, leaning over theconsole in front of you to scrub your face, elbow on the control panel.

After a few moments, Wanda spoke up, her tone full of mirth; “Well.Now we know why the silhouette data was all fucked up. It literally had no idea what that thing’s silhouette was, what with a big fucking fin added to it.”

You took a deep breath and sighed heavily. “Yeah, that will do it.”

“Simon,” Rylee said, her voice gentle.

You lifted your head and turned to look to her. “Yes, captain?”

She was giving you a gentle smile. “You look like you need a break. Why don’t you go for a walk, check out the Mess Hall, or your quarters while your team processes the rest of this data?”

You glanced to Oliver, who you knew was almost done with his task, but you quickly remembered that if a superior, especially your captain,was telling you to do something, you probably should. You took another deep breath, and sighed, and nodded. “Sure, thank you, captain.”

Her smile morphed into a slightly wry one. “I’ll forward you a couple drink credits, as a thank you for your diligence,” she said, her tone playful. “You look like you could use one right about now.”

You blinked at her before you could move to stand. “I’m, sorry?”

“Drink credits. It’ll appear in your macro tracker, and you can redeem one in the mess hall for an alcoholic drink of your choice—use it wisely. I personally would suggest the blackberry mead; it’s simply delightful, and we pick it up from Damsel, so it might be your only chance to try it.

“There’s alcohol?” you asked, your brows raising in both surprise and hope.

A couple folks from around the bridge chuckled lightly, including Rylee. “Of course there is. Because of it’s limited nature, it’s obtainable only on credits. They transfer between stations, too, so don’t feel you need to spend them all here,” she explained with a light tone.

Where even would you get alcohol back on Derin? It must’ve been a well-guarded, or often forgotten, secret if it wasn’t advertised anywhere in the Commons. You nodded to her with a bit more eagerness than you’d meant to—though, even though the way she had worded it originally suggested you should get some while on break, you figured you probably shouldn’t do so in the middle of the day cycle, not when there was far more work to be done, and pressing work. “Thank you, captain,” you said, perhaps with a bit too much of a genuine tone as you moved to stand.

She simply gave you a more genuine smile as she moved to take her PII out of her pocket.

You turned to look to your crew as an almost afterthought, and Wanda, still watching the goings on, caught your eye. “Keep me up to date on things,’kay?” you said.

Wanda nodded and replied with, “Of course, sir,” as both Oliver and Hubert replied with, “Yes, sir”, never taking their eyes off their work.

You looked back to Wanda, having a thought. “Could you compile the times that each fly-by occurred?”

“On it, boss,” she said, turning back around to her console.

“Thank you, folks,” you said both reflexively, and genuinely.

You briefly glanced at your satchel, sitting up against the control panel under your chair, and wondered if you should take it with you; you weren’t planning on heading down to your quarters yet—the getting something to eat from the mess hall sounded like just what you needed—so you figured it was probably safe where it was, with the crew.

Moving to head over to the elevator, you pulled your PII from your pocket—not just to call the elevator, but also to pull up the map. And also to check the intranet for what the fuck a blackberry, or a mead was.

You had to shake off the vision of the bright green numbers ticking ever upward on black display and take a deep breath. You put your face in your hand, and scrubbed the good half of it to try and clear your head. Honestly, that didn’t help any, as it just was a further reminder of the oppressing exhaustion and stress from being in that tin can, and the exhaustion of the day so far was settling hard on your shoulders.

The food break was exactly what you’d needed, but coming back to the bridge and getting four reports from your three team members had been overwhelming, and your brain hadn't had a chance to relax since you then needed to analyze the models that Oliver had put together for you. Maybe jumping into working again so soon had been a bad idea… Now you could tell why Joseph was so insistent to Umbra that you weren’t ready yet. Should’ve listened to Jospeh.

A gentle hand placed itself on your left shoulder, and you moved to look to Oliver.

“Do you need to rest, sir?” he asked you.

“Yes, but. I have work to do,” you said softly, but resolutely.

He shook his head. “No, I think you should rest. There’s nothing more that you can do today that can’t be done tomorrow. Eden already did their fly-by for the day, and you’ll be able to better analyze the data with a rested body.”

You chewed on his words for several long moments—he was right. “Time is it?”

You both looked to your work stations’ consoles; yours displayed 1923.

“Pretty respectable time to turn in early, you did a lot of good work today,” he said gently. He watched you for several moments, seemingly trying to figure out how to word his next sentence. “Are, you still in the process of healing?”

You nodded a bit.

He turned to Rylee. “Captain,” he got her attention, and you watched her out of the corner of your eye. “I believe that Simon needs to check in with medical and needs a medical leave for the rest of the evening.”

She looked to you briefly before smiling gently. “I would agree; you’re dismissed for the evening, Simon. Thank you for keeping an eye on him, Oliver,” she said, making a “shoo” motion with her hand at you.

You gave her a soft smile. “Thank you, captain,” you said, just loud enough for her to hear. “And, thank you too, Oliver.”

“Of course, sir,” he replied. “Do, you know how to plan a route with your map?”

You nodded; you’d done so several times so far, including getting to the mess hall and back. But, at his prompting, you moved to pull your PII from your pocket to do just that.

“Medical is on D3,” he said, helpfully.

You nodded at his direction, and moved to manually change the map’s level so you could locate it and set a route to follow. Your eyes pinched shut as the square points of interest pulled up the image of the mission map in your vision, and you had to shake your head to clear it. Fuck, when was the last time you had taken your meds? You finished what you were doing with the map before tapping over to the med tracker, and did some—admittedly slow, due to your brain not working well—mental math. Over 11 hours ago on your anti-psychotics, 13 on your pain meds.

“Fuck, I need to get to medical, anyway,” you said just over a mutter. It was a wonder you weren’t doubling over in pain at the moment, and now you feared it wasn’t just the exhaustion pulling up the bad memories. “Thank you, for checking me, sir,” you said, looking to Oliver.

He gave you a gentle smile. “You asked us to.”

“Thank you for trusting me, in asking you to,” you replied, returning his smile.

You moved to put your PII back in your pocket and grab your satchel, then stood and slung your satchel over your shoulder.

You noticed Wanda watching you as you did so, and before you could walk away, she spoke up; “Can I ask a potentially insensitive question?”

You paused and blinked at her. “Sure,” you weren’t sure what she was thinking, but it couldn’t be worse than her asking about the Tree earlier.

“Doesn’t your hand ever get tired?” she asked with genuine curiosity in her tone.

After a second to let the question sink in, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah. But that’s what the physical therapy’s for.”

She made a motion with her brows and head like she hadn’t thought of that. “Rest easy,” she said.

“You too. Thank you all for your hard work today,” you said before moving to head off, giving the team a parting wave as Hubert turned too to see you off.

You pulled your PII from your pocket as you stepped over to the elevator, and scanned it, the elevator sliding open at it’s prompting. Stepping in, you tapped the button for D3, and let the elevator sweep you downward.

The motion of the elevator and the slowness of the descent tried to lull you into closing your eyes, and you had to shake your head to keep yourself alert. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you watched the indicator light for it’s cue that you were, indeed, still moving. Movement within the elevator, other than the indicator light, caught your attention, and you looked to your left; both in front of and to the left of you stood a familiar form, dressed in a stained standard COI jumpsuit and a yellow jacket, brown hair folded into a braid, back facing toward you. Your heart began to race—you’d been here before, when they escorted you to the sub. You blinked and shook your head, and looked behind you—the crewman who’d been Ava’s backup wasn't standing behind you, like when this happened last time. When you looked back toward the front of the elevator, Ava was still standing there.

“No, no you’re, you’re dead… Ava?” you asked, your voice weak. You took a couple steps back, and your hand touched the back wall of the elevator.

At you saying her name, the figment turned to look to you; at first, she seemed normal, but the more she turned, the more you tried to step back away from her, but could only press your back into the wall of the elevator—where she’d had a blind eye, her face was split into a maw, not unlike the fish monster’s, and reminiscent of the way the mutated-you looked.

Now you knew you were hallucinating again. “Fuck,” you spat, and instinctively tried to reach with your left hand for the knife on your right thigh—wait, what knife? You hadn’t had one of those in years. Upon realizing that you didn’t have your knife, having pinned your right hand and arm between yourself and the elevator wall, again instinct took over your nerves and tried to put your left hand out between you and the new Ava-monster—what fucking left hand? you thought, catching yourself feeling what was left of your shoulder socket moving.

And yet, as you watched, a very real-looking facsimile of your left hand stretched out in front of you—but it looked like a tree branch. What the fuck?

“Blink, my Son,” came that soft voice you’d begun to associate with the Last Tree.

You did as she instructed as the Ava-Monster began to step toward you, wincing your eyes shut and turning your face from the location of the hallucination. You kept them shut until the elevator slowed to a halt, and the door opened.

Hesitantly opening your eyes, you looked up and around the elevator, to see nothing there. Prying yourself off the wall, you moved to look at both hands—only your right one presented itself in front of you, though you definitely felt your left shoulder socket move. Pressing just your back against the back wall of the elevator, you let yourself breathe, hard. Even though you stood there for a good couple of minutes getting your breath back, the elevator’s door stayed open, beckoning you to leave when you were ready.

You fished into your pocket for your PII, and shakily moved to wrap the handle around the back of your hand so you could type. Tapping over to the messaging program, you tapped out of the group history and over to Caleb’s. “Well, either killing the me-monster succeeded at just killing It, or didn’t do fucking shit to the Curse.”

You took one more deep breath and moved to step out of the elevator finally. As the elevator slid shut behind you, your PII made the message received sound.

“Simon, are you okay??”

You moved to step aside of the elevator and out of the walkway so you could type—couldn’t well use the map while you were messaging someone. “I accidentally let my meds slip; I was just, busy and didn’t think of it. Just saw a mutated version of the towship captain, similar to the mutated-me. In good news, either the Last Sapling is actually protecting me, or my brain’s made her into a protecting force in this whole hallucination bullshit.”

“Goddamnit, Simon. You know the clock program’s got alarms, right? You should set one when you take your meds.”

You didn’t know that. Huh. “Good to know, will do.”

“What’s going on right now?”

“On my way to medical to take meds; got the rest of the night off from the captain/councilor. I’ll call you when I get to my quarters.”

“Sounds good, keep your head on straight getting to medical.”

You gave your little tablet a smile. “Talk to you soon.”

“Hey, make this a report to medical. I want this in your file,” the message came mere nanoseconds after your message, meaning he’d been typing while you’d been.

You sighed. “Will do, Bro.”

Tapping over to the map program, you tried your damnedest to keep the conversation with Caleb in mind as a way to ground yourself as you moved to keep heading toward medical. Was that triggered by the elevator rides feeling similar? Were you going to be able to ever be alone, or were you always going to need someone else there to keep you in reality?

Maybe this mission had been a bad idea.

“Alright, let’s go over the findings from yesterday once more,” you said to your new crew.

The bridge had an interesting lighting situation that felt strangely homely; the bright overhead lights had been made warm and somewhat dim, and vaguely reminded you of being a kid, walking under the dome on Mars shortly after daybreak. Was it trying to recreate an early morning on a planet? It was 0800, or shortly thereafter, and even with your brain having been so troubled the night before, a couple med refreshes, talking through the hallucination with Caleb, and some good sleep with an ambiance audio of some planet-side crickets you found on the Iridescent’s media library had you up and running at almost 100% when the daybreak simulator woke you around 0700.

Rylee had allowed you and your team to use the war table for your morning meeting, and offered everyone chaga coffee—you hadn’t had coffee in years, and it’s beautifully bitter flavor kicked your brain into working just that much better.

Hubert put his coffee onto the war table and cleared his throat. “Studying the Iridescent’s scanner data specifically for the aggressor’s data transmission, it was able to pick up that they’re scanning the Iridescent. Because the Iridescent’s scanner isn’t coded to pick up the ranges that the aggressor was scanning in, I can't tell what they’re scanning for, or how. Eden’s unique coding language also means that even if we could, our scan data couldn’t tell us anything. The only thing that I can tell is that they’re changing address each day, which, isn’t too surprising but also unnecessary.”

You shook your head. “Not unnecessary at all,” you politely interrupted him, after taking a sip of your coffee. “One of the things that I’ve learned being here is that the Consolidation apparently hides themselves behind being too big to fail. I say that with great respect; it’s true. A conglomerate of entities is really overwhelming of a target for Eden; there’s a lot to choose from, but also a lot that can go wrong and we could get overwhelmed extremely quickly with the numbers that the Consolidation has behind it—that’s why we’re so scrappy, we have to be. However, because Eden is extremely aware of how vulnerable it is, being one entity, security is at the forefront of priorities; changing a transcoder’s address after an encounter is standard for privacy and security reasons. The Consolidation does it too, but it’s automated, and, from my experience, the bare minimum that the Consolidation does for preventative security.”

Hubert watched you as you spoke, his brows furrowing as he thought over your words. “I see your point, but, with the size and speed of the Iridescent, even trying to catch up to a fleeing personnel sized vehicle such as the aggressor would be difficult even if we wanted to try and hack them.”

“It’s not the immediate retribution that’s of concern; it’s the long-goal,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee. “I’ve seen the kind of data that this thing can gather. If these archives aren’t purged, if stations have similar sensors to the Iridescent, then the Consolidation has a complete record of every single time an Edenian ship has come within sensor range, and can track the exact squadron that was the perpetrator. If Umbra asks me to look over the records going back to the Quiet Rapture, I could tell zir every single Edenite who had ever set foot on a station, and when. Fuck, I could probably even try and remember the exact hit, and give zir detailed plans on how the station was hit, and what the goal or target was.” Oliver, who had passed on coffee, watched you with horror. Seemingly, he hadn’t quite realized just how important you were to Eden. “Changing the address is to disallow future retribution from an easy in. You’re in comms,” you gestured with your cup at Hubert, “you know how easy it is to load a hacking bot with a bunch of addresses and just let it run until one lets it through.”

Hubert’s brows raised—he too seemed to not realize how skilled you were. “Fair enough. Also, I think your assumption of the Consolidation’s security measures is extremely fair but harsh.”

“Having been on the other side, I feel like I have a good handle on how good or bad the security measures are,” you gave a lightly wry smile. You heard Rylee chuckle from her captain’s chair, which gave you a light jolt and reminded you just where you sat.“If it means helping strengthen them now, especially since it seems that Eden’s taking more drastic measures, I’ll criticize them as much as necessary. Umbra was just as unhappy to hear my criticisms, but at least seemed receptive to the feedback.”

“Judging by how easily several incidents with Eden could have been solved with us simply having our cameras running, even if not recording, I see how fair your criticism is, Simon,” Rylee said, rotating her chair to face the war table.

You nodded to her politely.

“I don’t have much to report for you either, though,” Wanda piped up, cradling her cup of coffee in both hands. “I tried several times to figure out if there were any patterns to when the Edenians did a fly-by, but it really seems as though it’s completely at random.”

You brows furrowed as you thought about that. “That ship has the ability to hold a few days worth of supplies before it’d need to restock,” you looked to Rylee. “Captain… I understand if I’m overstepping my station, but, would I be able to have a redacted flight path record for over the last month? I’d like to compare fly-by times with triangulating the Iridescent’s location to them to Eden, based on my knowledge of how we restock.”

Her brows originally furrowed as you addressed her, but came apart slowly as she considered your words; her face still remained troubled—you could tell she wanted to do that for you, but was calculating how to do so. “...Can I get back to you on that?”

You nodded. “I don’t know how important it is to understanding what they’re up to, but I… have a bad feeling about the whole situation, and it would be really helpful to be able to see the pattern, in case my gut feeling is correct.”

She watched you with a dark, almost untrusting look. “What is your bad feeling…?”

You watched her with hesitancy. “I have… no evidence of this, other than myself, sitting here before you, but… Eden’s never been this reckless before. I’m afraid that, there may have been a culture shift, based on what I know was going on right before I got captured, and my gut feeling is that the leader of Eden might be going full scorched on the station. If not full scorched, then at least, torching my Brothers. If that is what is happening, then the fly-bys may be a new way of gathering information to make a large-scale assault. There is no way Eden could ever match the firepower of the Iridescent, and there’s no way that shy of a large-scale assault could Eden ever make a successful hit of it—the fact that they’re information gathering means something drastic is going on behind the scenes back on Eden.”

Rylee most certainly was not expecting that reply, and was silent for a good long while as she processed that.

“What’s the culture shift you mentioned?” Hubert asked.

You set your jaw and looked to him, glancing uncertainly at Wanda—Consolidates didn’t understand Edenites’ relationship to the Tree, and you weren’t sure whether they’d be more or less willing to buy your story if you answered that question. “I… don’t know that I can convey the significance of it well enough to make the argument for my thought process make sense.” You looked between your team and Rylee, each one watching you expectantly. “The Consolidation doesn’t understand the significance and gravity of the Last Tree to our culture, our beliefs. Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“You seem to believe it, and we trust you,” Oliver spoke up.

You watched him quietly for a few moments. “Do you, though? When I tell you that the answer is going to sound fantastical and archaic?”

“It seems significant enough to your gut instinct, and you’re the most knowledgeable Edenite we could possibly ever know, I think we have to trust you,” Rylee spoke up, speaking just above a mutter.

You watched her as she spoke, and thereafter for several moments, calculating the risk in your head. You took a deep breath before speaking, opting to give them a chance, hearing a councilor of her specific status say that. “Father, the leader of Eden… Spoke prophecies the Tree handed down to him. Several came about, and while some could easily be explained by other means, some couldn’t, so it became understood that the Tree is a god. It is Eden’s god, Eden’s protector, if not God, or a fraction of God given to Eden to see oversee our prosperity and success. It… died. About four years ago. No one wanted to accept it, but Father did, and he made new prophecies based on it.” You stared into your coffee cup to gather your thoughts. “My, special forces, we’re called the Sons of Eden. One of Father’s prophecies was ‘when the last Son of Eden joins the Grove,’—becomes one with the Last Tree—‘the Tree will be reborn, along with a hundred other Trees’.”

You looked to the others, who were watching you with a mixture of restrained horror and disbelief. “Father going scorched on, at the very least my Brothers, makes sense with this prophecy. I… I believe that he sent this exact squadron to sabotage Filament Station, to kill me and my squadron. That, I was his martyr. I can just hear him now;” you spoke in your voice that mimicked his, “’See how the Consolidation of Iron has taken one of our own! Simon, our most beloved of Sons. Your most beloved of Brothers.”’ You chewed on your already chewed up cheek, and winced, then moved to take a sip of coffee instead. “It wouldn’t be hard for him to rally my Brothers around suicide missions, if they believed their deaths fed the rebirth of the Tree, and allowed them to ‘follow in my footsteps’.”

Rylee’s face had gone white, seemingly comprehending the depth of the situation.

No one spoke, or hardly even moved, for several minutes, until Hubert moved to take a sip of his coffee and said, “Well, I see now why you have a bone to pick with them.”

“I want to take them alive,” you said after a few seconds. “Not for mercy, not for retribution… But I want to know what the fuck is going on in Eden. …Mostly I want to see the looks on their faces when they see their one-armed martyr alive.”

Rylee snorted and couldn’t contain a snicker. “I would love to see that look too,” she muttered. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and looked to you. “I’ll get you as much of a complete flight path as I can. If your gut is right, they may also be doing this to other stations… But because of how stations are stocked with people, they may not be noticing like we do—we’re a unique situation in that case. Keep that in mind when you do your cross-comparison,” she said.

You nodded to her. “Of course, captain.” You’d considered that point previously as well, but hadn’t known what to do with that information—the Iridescent’s flight pattern and the Edenian fly-by log would be just the exact info you needed for it.

She moved to stand. “I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your meeting. I’ll work with Peter to get you that flight schedule,” she said, then moved over toward where Peter sat.

You looked to Oliver. “Last but not least; what do you have for me?”

He gave you a shy smile. “I compiled all of the models for you into one folder for you to peruse; knowing what we know now, I took the liberty of going over them myself—two sets of eyes are better than one, plus, if I can reduce your workload a bit, then I’m happy to. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to where within the sensor range they fly; each day, it’s a completely different angle, and completely different location. Still, there’s very little overlap in where they’ve flown, so it’s quite noticeable that they’re trying to compile a full body scan of the Iridescent.”

You thought about that for a second before looking to Hubert. “Is there any way to see interference with the Iridescent’s scanners? What I mean, is, is it possible to see how large their scan diameter is, based on any interference with the Iridescent’s scanners?”

He took a sip of his coffee as he thought that over. “I’d want to ask Trixie that,” he looked over to where the Iridescent’s comms specialist sat at her work station.

She looked over at being referred to. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The Iridescent has such advanced scanners that I’m not even aware of what they all do. Is it possible for them to pick up that they’re being interfered with, by the aggressor ship’s scanner?” you asked.

She blinked as she thought about that. “In theory. I’m not sure if something like that gets written to a report already—if Hubert didn’t see it on the reports you all have already analyzed, then no. But… I might be able to code it to record that too.”

“How intensive would that be?” you asked.

“Off the top of my head, a couple hours, if I had to guess,” she replied.

“Do you have a couple hours to spare?”

She looked to Rylee. “Captain?” Rylee looked to her. “Do I have your permission to work for Simon for a couple hours?”

“Of course, Trixie,” Rylee replied.

“Thank you, captain,” you said, before looking back to Trixie. “If it’s possible, or to specify, I’m wanting to know how large their transmission range is. If we can tell the diameter of their scanners, then we can get a better idea of how much of the Iridescent they’ve scanned.”

“Yes, sir,” Trixie replied, and turned to get to work.

Wanda took a sip of her coffee, then spoke up; “What would you like us to do today, sir?”

That was the rub, wasn't it? There wasn’t much for them to do outside of what they’d already done—that was the only issue that you’d had with Umbra’s plan of giving you a whole team of experts to work with over the few days. “Hubert, did you finish work on the intercept ship?” you looked to him.

His brows raised in an expression that he’d forgotten. “Oh, no I haven’t. I was so focused on analyzing the reports yesterday after you called us back to the bridge I’d completely forgotten all about it.”

“We can work on that then,” Oliver said, then looked to Hubert.“Once you’re done coding, we can run some simulations to make sure the systems are working.”

“Sounds good,” Hubert replied.

Oliver looked to Wanda. “Would you be willing to be on hand if we need any mechanical help?”

“Absolutely,” she replied.

You smiled a bit to them. “I’ll be here then; knowing what we know now, I doubt that I’ll be able to gather any other information out of studying the telemetry models by themselves, but maybe with that flight path data, we’ll get somewhere.”

Oliver watched you quietly, seemingly troubled. You looking to him pointedly made him hesitantly pipe up; “Sir, what… do you believe Eden’s end goal is? Killing so many people for a deific figure to be reborn leaves Eden with… possibly a deific figure and, no security forces?”

You sat with that, sipping your coffee. That was also the point of order you couldn’t figure out, either. You stared into your coffee for a few moments. “A lot of folks have asked me, or at least pointed out… that I don’t buy into Eden’s bullshit. I do, and I don’t; I have no idea what Father’s end goal is other than to rebirth the Tree,” even though, you knew it was with you, and his efforts would be in vain, “but, he’s also the exact zealous sort to do it anyway. Consequences be damned. I have no idea what that would accomplish, because, even after it died, not much seemed to change within Eden; not our luck, not our productivity…” you looked to Oliver, knowing that wasn’t a satisfying answer, but it was the best you had. “The, faith had been waning for a while though, even before I was captured. Trust in Father’s leadership was fractured. Our tightly disciplined hierarchy was becoming disillusioned. If, over the last almost three years, he decided to end the facade, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

You sat, thinking, for a few more moments. “There’s no one to replace the Sons, that’s true. We were the youngest of the station, when the Quiet Rapture happened, orphans and enlisted, and there’s no new kids to train up, no new people for Father to brainwash into doing his dirty work. So, why he could be choosing to lose a bunch of his Sons while attempting to hit an extremely well-armed freighter, I couldn’t say. The spoils would never outweigh the casualties, and could never make up for losing their skills, their protection.” You shook your head. “I don’t know. That’s what troubles me the most. I’ve been Father’s right hand for… my entire life. I could guess his next move, and be enforcing his will hours before he decided to tell me what he wanted—now, I can’t even begin to guess.”

“How the fuck did we get you…?” Wanda asked, sounding bewildered at everything you’d been saying.

You gestured your mug to around the bridge. “This squadron that’s scanning the Iridescent, tried to kill me with Filament Station, but because I survived, I was caught fleeing. I surrendered… I never wanted Filament Station destroyed. I tried to stop them, but they went behind my back and betrayed me, and caused untold suffering…” You shook your head and stared off into space, watching the ghost light of the stars slowly move past the Iridescent. Talking about it was starting to make the wound heal, and though it hurt each time you mentioned it, like sticking fingers in the infected and inflamed sore, at least the truth was being told. “But. That’s, also why I want to intercept them.” You looked in between your team members. “Knowing it was them that destroyed Filament Station, makes me worried they’re planning another total destruction. Why? I have no idea. The Iridescent could shoot down every single one of Eden’s personnel-sized fleet without a single one reaching her, so if they’re going scorched, all they’d have to do is fly in hostilely. No, this is calculated. They want to do something with the Iridescent, and I can’t tell what.”

“Sir? I’m sorry to interrupt, but,” Trixie started, though her tone was soft and calm. “With that long-range transmitter, would they be able to hack us?”

That caught Rylee’s attention, and both she and Peter looked to you as well.

You sat with that for a second, before shaking your head slowly in uncertainty. “Eden doesn’t have the same tools and technology the Consolidation does. The fact they developed this transmitter is beyond what we ever would have considered making, when I was there. And, I was one of just a few Sons who knew how to hack in the first place. It’s just not our skirmish style. I can’t even imagine who within Eden would have the knowledge and skills to begin development on the transmitter, let alone a wireless bug to slip into the Iridescent’s code.” Rylee was watching you with scrutiny, probably remembering what you’d said at your official statement. “The extent of our experience in hacking, was physical. Hard patches, physical bypasses, and that would mean a ship would have to get onto the Iridescent without getting shot down, which is an impossible feat.”

“If even one person, one single person you didn’t know had the skills to do it, wouldn’t they be able to reverse engineer Consolidation coding because of the ships that Eden’s captured from us?” Hubert asked.

You shook your head. “That just. Wasn’t something we did. Scrapped the ships, sure, but we didn’t have any interest in figuring out how the Consolidation’s software ticked. If it was something we could use, we used it.”

“What about captured Consolidates? Could any of them be coaxed into programming something for Eden?” Oliver asked, innocently.

Your face scrunched in despair, and based on the looks from your team, it probably had an anguished expression. “No. No that wouldn’t be possible,” you said simply.

“Simon… What does happen to captured Consolidates on Eden?” Rylee asked darkly.

You took a shaky breath. “You don’t want me to answer that, captain,” you said smally.

“Oh, god…” you heard Trixie breathe.

“I insist,” Rylee nearly growled.

You gave her a pained look, and you begged her with your eyes not to have to say it. She continued to give you a steady look that told you she wanted to know. You took a shaky breath, and gave her an expression that said “you asked, so shall you receive”. “The… Consolidation is far… far kinder to captured Edenites, and far more conservative of their …uh, newly acquired resources… Because… If they aren’t thrown into hardvac without a suit the second their ship is captured, or the airlock is opened before they can suit up, then they’re taken back to Eden to sacrifice to the Tree.”

“Oh god,” Trixie squeaked.

“What the fuck,” Hubert swore.

Rylee looked away, but before she did, her face said that she’d known that was the answer. Peter watched you with a hard to read expression, and Oliver looked like he was about to cry. Wanda sat with her jaw tight, and Hubert couldn’t look at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, all you could really think to say.

After several long minutes, Hubert spoke up, not looking at you, “How many people have you killed since the Quiet Rapture?”

His words stabbed you in the heart, and you tried to swallow past a lump in your throat. “I don’t know. I lost count 20 years ago, EIC.” You watched with increasing nervousness as eyes turned to you. “Like I said… I don’t want any more death… I never have…”

“You can’t be more than 35…” Wanda said, just above a mutter.

You nodded absentmindedly. “There abouts.”

The folks on the bridge sat with that, able to do the math.

Rylee stood, grabbing Peter’s attention, as well as yours, and incidentally also your team’s, as her movement was so quick it startled you. “Better late than never, Simon. We can’t absolve you of your sins, but that’s what your Realization was for,” she said, striding over to sit pointedly in her captain’s chair.

You shrunk into your seat as she got close, and stayed that way as she watched you with hard eyes.

“I have that flight path ready for you to analyze,” she said, softer than her expression betrayed, then looked over everyone at the table. “Simon telling you this doesn’t change that he’s been working with us just fine, helping us. Concerned about us.” She tapped the arm of her chair almost in irritation, and while her words came out with a hard tone, they sounded sincere. “No matter what he’s done in the past, we have him now as a great ally. Don’t let that cloud your judgment.” She sounded as though while she was scolding her underlings, she was also reminding herself of the same thing.

“Thank you for your trust, captain,” you said smally, barely above a mutter.

She looked to you, her eyes still hard, but she looked as though she wanted to trust you, despite everything. “You passed your Realization. With flying colors. I can’t not trust you.”

You knew what she was referring to, and you nodded once at that.

Rylee flipped her hand in a “shoo” motion. “Sounds like all of you know your tasks. Off to it.”

You and your team moved to stand, Hubert downing the rest of his coffee before he walked toward the elevator. You set your coffee temporarily on the war table so you could pick up your satchel, then moved to take your coffee with you to your work station, but Rylee made a loud ‘tsk’ sound before you could go more than a couple steps, getting your attention.

“No cups on the console; I’ve had too many spills over the years, Peter; it’s a wonder the control panel even works still, so it’s an effective ban on anyone using the bridge’s console,” she said, her tone scolding but only lightly so.

“Sorry, captain…” came Peter’s voice from his seat.

You nodded quietly, trying to think of how you were going to juggle your coffee and work, now—you didn’t want to just finish it, you wanted to savor it while you had it. Before you could step away again, Rylee caught you by saying your name, and you turned to look to her.

“The flight path is in the security folder, it’s locked to your access; if your team needs to see it for any reason, no they don’t,” she said pointedly.

You nodded in affirmation. She stopped you once more before you could move, and you said carefully, “I understand operational security, captain.”

She gave you a slight smile. “I know, that’s the only reason I’m trusting you with it. That’s not what I was going to say.” She watched you with a mixture of that hard look she was giving you earlier, and the smile. “Thank you for all the hard work you’re doing. I can tell you’re a good man.”

“I’m trying to be, captain,” you said gently. “Better late than never.”

Her face softened, and she gave you a slight “shoo” motion to know that you were dismissed. “That’s part of the hard work I mentioned.”

You cracked the barest hint of a smile and moved off to your work station. Staring at your station, you did some quick calculations of how you wanted to juggle things, and moved to set your cup on the chair so you could pull your PII out to scan, then set the little tablet on the console so it was still at hand. Setting your satchel under the console near your feet, you picked up your cup, sat and got situated carefully, then set the cup on your knee—at least, if it dumped, it wasn't on the console.

Navigating to the flight path file was the easy part; parsing the flight information detailed within was again a struggle. It was much simpler than the last document that you tried to read through, but it was still slow going, as how the COI notated telemetry was different from Eden, and the first thing you had to do was map in your head how the flight path visualized, and reverse engineer the telemetry into a way you could parse.

Rylee caught your attention while you were putting the final touches on the actual circuit the Iridescent took; “Would you like lunch? We have it delivered for the bridge crew so we’re not leaving the helm unattended.”

You looked from her and stared at the time on your work station’s screen—how the fuck was it 1200 already? “Um, that’d be great, thank you, captain.” As much as a break away from the bridge sounded lovely, you were disappointed in how much you’d gotten done so far, and knew you needed to focus on it.

“I’ll submit that you’re dining as a bridge crew, so it’ll adjust your macro tracker automatically,” she said; you figured she knew that was going to be your next question.

You gave her a thankful smile and thanked her before turning back to your work.

Turning back to the crude map you’d made in a graphing program you’d found, you stared at it disproportionately long—the screen before you was rendered in full color, but the graphing program was white with black lines. You chewed on the emotions that gave rise in you, and you moved to take another sip of your coffee—not much was left, but the bitterness and the waterlogged, finely powdered chaga helped ground you in the moment. You looked to your PII, and tapped into your med tracker—3 more hours on your anti-psychotic. You nodded to yourself, and dug that defiant determination out of the mess of emotions the map gave you, and you tucked back in to work, ignoring how much your brain wanted to catastrophize and linger in the tin can.

By the time Rylee called your name again, you’d managed to map four days worth of aggressors’ telemetry data on your map. Turning to see what she was requesting you for, you saw that the war table had been converted into a dining table, with a couple folks you didn’t recognize but had to assume were from the mess hall operations dropping off heaping plates of food; Rylee was waving you over to join them.

“Um, will my work save when I walk away?” you asked, uncertain.

“On the programs list, there’s a button on the top left that looks like some Z’s; that’ll put the station to sleep while it’s locked, so it’ll keep your work open,” Peter said as Rylee and Trixie directed traffic.

You nodded and followed his directions; the screen faded to the generic COI logo and you moved to stand, stretching as you realized you hadn’t done so in hours. You stopped over at a dish collection point by the elevator to drop off your cup before you moved toward the central table. The mess hall crew had said their parting words to the bridge crew and filtered past you to head toward the elevator, giving you greetings as they passed; you returned them. Rylee gestured to a seat for you to take with the rest of the bridge crew, and as you did so, you still felt a little awkward from the conversation earlier.

Trixie certainly didn’t look at you the same way, but Peter and Rylee greeted you professionally; you tried to swallow the awkwardness and returned the greeting.

“How’s your work going?” Rylee asked, breaking the ice before she moved to tuck into her food.

“Um. Slower than I’d like, but, I’m hoping that it’ll pick up quickly after lunch; I… had to learn how to parse the telemetry data before I could do anything further,” you said honestly. “I’ve only just started mapping, so I don’t have much to report.”

You looked to the dish offered before you; it was a flatbread filled to the brim with roasted veg, but half of what was in there you’d never seen before. You moved to retrieve a fork from where they’d been offered in the center of the table so you could reduce the sandwich’s bulk before attempting to handle it.

“Does Eden have a different notation than we do?” Peter asked before he took a bite of his sandwich.

You nodded, studying a sliced disk that was light greenish yellow on the inside with a dark green rind—it had delightful grill marks and didn’t smell like much. “That, and because the Consolidation uses relays, loctional data is different too, like, how the location of each station is notated. Add that in with the difference in telemetry notation, and it’s been mostly just… familiarizing myself with it,” you explained before moving to eat the forkful.

“For a couple hours of work, that’s incredibly impressive, though,” Peter replied, and you caught Rylee nodding in agreement. “I’ve trained folks to read navigational data and they take days to learn to graph it. But, I guess you did mention that you’re a pilot, so that shouldn’t be too surprising to me.”

“Joseph did complement that you are a sharp young man,” Rylee complemented.

You gave a soft smile as you chewed and thought about Peter’s complement. “I’ve, picked stuff up over the years. I had a navigator in my squadron, so I really only know the basics.

“Sure, but you’re quick at it, is what I’m saying. That’s something to be proud of,” Peter replied. You gave him a nod of thanks as you took another forkful.

“Do you know what you want to do when you’re healed up?” Rylee asked curiously.

You took a deep breath to sigh, then shook your head. “Not yet,” you said around your mouthful, and you gave a motion to let you finish chewing before you continued. “I have… a lot of healing to do, and… I think even coming back this soon, for this light amount of work is… Too much for my head.”

The bridge crew watched you with curiosity and empathy.

“Is, it too much for me to ask what happened?” Trixie asked.

You poked at the contents of the sandwich as you thought of how you wanted to say it. “I, uh. Took some serious bashes to the head during my Realization, so my head’s not entirely right yet. My medics aren’t sure how long it’ll take to heal, and it could be upwards of a year, it was that serious. My injuries are healing at a good rate, but, my head’s both better than they’d expect, and still really delicate.”

“Simon, you let me know if your head’s bothering you. Knowing what I know, I don’t expect you to jump into the full work rotation that a fully able-bodied member is expected to do,” Rylee said, moving to stuff some of the veg that fell out of her sandwich back into the flatbread.

You nodded to her. “Thank you, captain,” you said gratefully around another mouthful.

“That also means, don’t push yourself,” she gave you a scolding look. “You’re doing us a favor being here, considering you’re still technically on medical downtime. Do not push yourself before your body’s ready, understood?”

You nodded again, her tone just about triggering that Brother instinct—did she know about that? “Yes, captain.”

“But, I asked about if you knew what you wanted to do, because, you seem to be quite the capable individual; I read your questionnaire, and seeing you in action here with your crew and mine, and, knowing how you passed your Realization with flying colors… I wanted to give a suggestion,” Rylee said both pointedly and cryptically before she took another bite of her sandwich.

Your brows knitted as you took another bite of your own, and didn’t say anything to that, but let her finish her mouthful to keep speaking. “With flying colors”… She kept using that phrase… She had to be referring to you retrieving the black box, right? Where could she possibly be going with this?

She did indeed continue when she’d swallowed. “Depending on how well the intercept goes, and how confident you feel behind a flight panel again with your new disability, the Consolidation could really use another capable flight pilot. While the Iridescent does a good job of moving a lot of cargo across the Consolidation, we have a two week’s rotation before we get back to a station again, and rotate on a set flight schedule. We do have a FTL drive, and do use it for the largest stretches between stations, or when there’s an emergency, but jumping a ship this large is an art, and one that is dangerous if not used carefully. Thus, we use personnel-sized ships to move time-sensitive cargo and people. As I know you’re aware, Eden has captured a lot of our ships over the years, and… with the revelation you shared with us earlier… We’ve also lost a lot of pilots.”

You nodded in silence, trying to look as apologetic as possible.

“If it would so catch your fancy, I think you’d be a perfect candidate to use that Edenian ship as a personnel and small cargo hauler,” Rylee finished.

Your brows raised at the thought.

“That’s a brilliant idea, captain,” Peter spoke up.

She gave a wry grin. “An Edenian ship, with Edenian skirmishing techniques and Consolidation technology… I do think it’s quite a perfect storm.”

“Either fly under the radar as a ghost, especially since the Consolidation tags could be disguised or hidden and it could register solely as an Edenian ship, or out maneuver aggressors because you of all people know the techniques best,” Trixie mused, looking to you.

“I don’t think that the former would work for very long, though,” you said gently as you moved to set your fork down and pick up the flatbread to eat as a sandwich. “That ship has been MIA for 5 years EIC. If it suddenly showed up on Eden’s scans as being in tact, it’d raise alarms—not to mention, depending on where it got intercepted,” you paused as you thought about your current argument, “um… Well, I was going to say, Eden knows where it’s missions are at any time, but. I was the one who knew where all the squads were deployed to at any given time… Now that I’m not there doing that work, I have no idea if anyone else took up the position… Fuck, they could be flying around each other blind for all I know…”

Rylee couldn’t help but stifle a giggle.

“Plus, if they hailed me, they know me,” you said pointedly before taking a bite of your sandwich.

“And, if you managed to outmaneuver them and escape, they’d have your ship info and would then be on the lookout for a rogue Edenian ship,” Peter mused.

You nodded and gestured to him with the sandwich, not wanting to say anything with your mouth full. You gave a gesture for them to let you finish chewing so you could continue. “This mission, right now, I intend to take the ship and it’s squadron alive. That means they’ll be MIA, and Eden will be none the wiser to our deception. For a little while, at least, Eden will have no idea what the Consolidation has, so we’ll have to be extremely careful to keep that secret for as long as possible.”

“That modified ship would be of a lot of use with the modification it has,” Peter suggested.

You shook your head immediately, in the middle of another bite. “No—No, Eden will be looking for it the second it gets labeled MIA. With an edit like that?” you said with your mouth full.

He hummed in agreement, seeing your point.

“No, that’s something to give to someone like Hubert to study,” you continued once you’d chewed down the mouthful.

“Do you think the Edenites captured with the ship would be able to be Realized?” Trixie asked carefully.

You looked to her with concerned eyes, and then looked away in thought, chewing. You could feel Peter and Rylee watching you. You shook your head slowly. “No,” you said eventually, moving to wipe some veg juice from your mustache. “No… I think Jedd and his squadron fully buy Father’s bullshit. It’s going to be really hard for me to take them alive in the first place, but I’m going to try.”

“What support would you like from us?” Rylee asked, watching you with a professional, captain’s expression.

You chewed on a particularly tough piece of onion as you thought about that. It’d been something you’d been mulling over since Umbra suggested it, and you still weren’t sure. “First, I want to ask what the security situation looks like here,” you looked to her when you spoke.

“We’re capable of receiving captives,” she said professionally, but then her face softened. “In fact, I remember picking you up. You’ve been on the Iridescent before; it was us that took you to Damsel for incarceration.”

Your face fell, though that also made you curious. “I didn’t even know what station the prison was on. I had no idea the transport was the Iridescent, either… Wow.”

“There’s only a few transports to choose from, and Damsel, being the largest, is the station that has the best space for it,” she said with mirth, but seemed to recognize that wasn’t a very fun topic, and prompted for her original question again, “The Iridescent won’t be able to keep up with a fleeing personnel-sized transport… But we can do so long enough to allow you and your team to get down to the intercept vehicle and launch from there, hopefully with not too much distance lost that you’ll be able to find them.”

You nodded at that. “Right… Hopefully I can get a pattern out of that data then, and we’ll be able to have a better guess at what direction they’ll be headed to next. Um. Knowing the issue of transmission ranges, how, will we keep in touch?” you asked before taking another bite of your sandwich.

“Didn’t Hubert say he was going to put the intercept vehicle onto the Consolidation’s relay? The relay will pick you up; it’ll have a delay, but we’ll be able to track you using the relay and receive your comms traffic,” Trixie said.

“Oh,” you replied simply through your mouthful, not realizing that was one of the functions of the relay. “Oh, on the topic of transmission ranges; were you able to code that report function?” you asked after swallowing, looking pointedly to Trixie.

“Oh, yes, thank you for reminding me! When they fly-by today, it should pull that data,” she replied, spearing the last of the veg on her plate with a fork.

“Thank you, that’ll be a great help toward making a more solid plan of action,” you nodded, moving to take another bite.

Conversation quieted for a few minutes as folks finished their foods, and a question came to mind as you thought about getting back to work: “That’s, a good question actually… How do files save when I’m at a work station? Are they synced to my PII automatically?”

“The work station has a local file path specifically unlocked by your PII; it’ll save to the work station locally, but only you can access the files that save while you’re logged in. I can show you how to sync files later if you’d like,” Trixie said, moving to collect Rylee’s finished plate as she stood to take her own to the dish collection point.

“That’d be great, thanks,” you said with a mouthful.

Rylee looked to you as you were finishing your meal. “Did you get a chance to get a drink? Try that mead I suggested?” she asked with a mirthful tone.

You gave her a thankful smile and gestured to let you finish chewing. “I did; you were right, that was delicious. Where the fuck does the Consolidation have bees?” you asked, baffled.

She chuckled. “Damsel is a huge station, just barely smaller than Eden. It may not have the same amount of dedicated space to agriculture that Derin does, but it has a damn good amount of it, and where Derin has the piscine filtration system, Damsel has a completely different set of horticulture due to their apiary. They can support plants that other stations can’t due to the increased man hours that the bees do by nature plus the honey and wax is a fantastic by-product.”

“Does the Consolidation have any other living animals I should know about? Does Opulet have chickens?” you asked hyperbolically.

She chuckled and moved to answer when an alert went off, and out of the corner of your eye, the holodeck activated. Peter was on his feet in a flash, dashing to his work station with his PII in hand, and you and Rylee turned equally as quickly to watch the camera’s feed.

“What are we looking at, Peter?” Rylee barked.

The aggressor ship looked to be at a completely different angle today, as you were looking at it’s left side belly as it flew perpendicular to the Iridescent, then banked.

“0300, 30 degrees. 0200, 0100 and 20. Out of sensor range,” he called.

You watched the ship carefully as it slowly disappeared from the camera’s render capability—it looked to be keeping it’s trajectory, so you were hopeful that even if you couldn’t identify a pattern of their fly- by path, then the Iridescent could keep up with them just long enough to give your ship the edge it needed to catch up.

You moved to put the last of your sandwich in your mouth and then stood to clean up your space. As you did, Trixie called out to you. “That code I wrote was successful, sir, just checked the log.”

You looked up and saw that in the chaos, she’d moved to her station too. You gave her an affirmative hum as you chewed and took your plate to the collection bin. “Thank you, Trixie,” you called back to her once you’d swallowed.

“Not much we can do about them now, but good to not be sitting and waiting for them to fly-by any longer today,” Rylee said to no one in particular.

As you moved back to sit at your work station, Rylee intercepted you and held out a metal water bottle to you—that you hesitated to take, as it was the same design as in the one in the provisions kit. She had to hold it out to you further to prompt you to take it, and she did so with a slightly concerned look on her face. “Gotta stay hydrated, and these are harder to dump on the control panel,” she said, her tone mirthful as she caught onto your hesitance.

“Right,” you replied, taking the bottle from her gently.

“Are you alright, Simon?” she asked, stopping you from stepping away.

You hesitated to answer, and did so with a low voice so only she could hear. “There’s certain things that remind me of that hell.”

She watched you with confusion for several seconds, before she realized what you were talking to, and her face fell into an empathetic expression. “I can imagine. I’m sorry I had a hand in it.” You nodded once, and as you turned to head back to your work station, she spoke up; “If you think that your Brothers won’t take Realization, what do you want done with them?” You stopped and looked to her. She stepped over to you, keeping her voice low. “You don’t want any more death, and we certainly don’t want to repeat our mistakes that we made with you, whether that’s because you asked us to or not. But… if they’re not going to choose to live, to integrate… What say you?”

You were quiet for several long moments. “...They’re adults. They can make their own decisions. Just… don’t torture them to death, like I was. Air lock them. Or…” You hesitated to say what you wanted to; “Let me do it.”

She studied you carefully. “You would kill your own Brothers?”

You couldn’t look at her. “I have. When it was necessary. If it’s necessary again, I can. And, I think it’s only fair if I did it in this case.”

She was quiet for several long moments, but you weren’t sure if she was finished with you yet, so you eventually hesitated to look to her.

Her expression was extremely hard to read, but she was studying you carefully. “Simon, who are you?” The way she said it felt less like she was asking you for an introduction, and more like she was trying to place a name to a face. Had your moniker gotten to the COI?

“I’m the Butcher of Eden,” you said flatly, trying to ignore how the words made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

Her expression said that yes, they had heard of you by that name—her face quickly became guarded, and her weight shifted as though she were going to step away, but thought better of it.

“You’re quite astute, captain,” you couldn’t help but complement. “You’ve caught on to several unspoken questions that not even the other councilors have bothered or thought to ask me.”

A wry smile slowly split her face at your complement. “I have to be.” She studied your face. “How does someone like you, quick, tenacious, and caring, get a title like that?”

Several kills by your hand flashed in front of your eyes, and you had to look away from her. “By being too quick, tenacious, and caring. A… little bit of being impressionable helped.” Childrens’ blood on your child-sized hands; a Brother who disappointed Father one too many times; you shook your head to clear the images.

She was quiet for several moments. “Joseph’s analysis of you really is correct; you just are a sharp young man who got into trouble because of his circumstances.”

You nodded quietly. “Thank you for the second chance, councilor,” you opted to address her by her title to emphasize what you meant. You looked to her, tired, “Can, I go back to work, to try and stop my Brothers from doing more stupid shit?”

She gave you a gentle smile and moved to pat your left shoulder with an equally gentle touch. “Of course; let me know if you need anything.”

You nodded, and when she took her hand back, you turned to head to your work station, trying to shove down the emotions that stupid bottle had brought up, and the apprehension of knowing the council knew exactly who you were now.

When 1600 rolled around, Rylee had asked you again if you wanted her to order you dinner. Over the last several hours, you’d made good headway into mapping the aggressor’s telemetry data onto the Iridescent’s flight path map—in fact, you’d finished it and begun analyzing it… but there so far was no rhyme or reason to the data, and it was beginning to get frustrating to study. You passed on her offer, figuring a deserved break was in order—especially because after you stood, you realized how stiff you’d gotten by sitting in one spot for so long.

Heading down to the Mess Hall was exactly what you needed—unlike Derin’s Commons, the mess hall felt far more similar to food acquisition on Eden; there were long tables with fixed seating throughout the hall, and operations crew manned stations that handed out preassembled meals. Although the food selection was far and away higher quality and intriguing than Eden, it was really the environment and acquisition process that made the experience feel homely for you.

Walking among the tables to access the food station you were heading for was nostalgic, and helped pull the tension out of your back—you didn’t realize how relaxing it was to be back in such a familiar environment. You glanced around at the folks dining there, just as you would to take inventory of the Brothers gathered and their statuses. There was about two dozen and a half folks dining at the moment, and while it was far less packed than the dining hall at dinner on Eden, it was still the most people you’d seen in one place in a long time, and that also felt strangely comforting.

Quickly though, your eyes landed on a large fellow who was stooped over their food, eyes seemingly glued to their PII in attempt to keep their attention from wandering to other folks in the vicinity. What made you stop and stare was the fellow’s face—you knew that broken and badly healed nose anywhere.

Excitement clouded your judgment, and elation quickened your step toward the familiar face; as you neared where they sat, you called out to them, your tone that attention-grabbing and steely Brothers’ bark; “Ko-ra!”

Immediately the fellow’s head bolted upright toward the beckon, but so did several other folks around the mess hall. Ignoring the onlookers, you reached your arm out wide in a Brothers’ provoking greeting that, as soon as you did it, you realized it didn’t have nearly the same effect with you missing an arm. It seemed to get the point across though, as Kora’s eyebrows knitted, both in confusion and recognition.

“Wait… Simon?! Is that you??” They untangled themself from the table’s bench seating and stood to their full height, matching your square-off motion as they stepped toward you.

You gave them a wry, almost evil grin, and they matched it with a relieved smile that turned wry as they stood head and shoulders over you, their posture lifting from the stooped and dejected way they’d held themself in when they first stood, to match your proudly displayed chest pose. “The fuck are you doing here??” they nearly growled, their stance extremely threatening with the sheer size of them, but you stood like a bulkhead up to them, unshaken.

You both moved to embrace each other at the same moment, their grip as tight as the vacuum of space around your shoulders. You gave them your best squeeze, but you could tell that your time down healing, and you missing some leverage, meant your grip was lackluster. They kept you there for a good long while, and you were perfectly comfortable to let them do so—you couldn’t imagine the last time they’d seen a Brother, and their large form was both physically comfortable and comforting to be embraced in.

“Simon, is that really you? What the fuck are you doing here?” they asked quietly as they held you.

“It’s really me,” you said with a light tone. “I recognized you from across the hall—dunno how I couldn’t, with that nose that never healed right after Frankie broke it.”

Somehow, they squeezed you even harder than before—okay now that was starting to hurt. “It really is you… I almost didn’t recognize you…” they said in a quiet voice.

You gave them the universal tap on the back of “let me the fuck go”, and they obliged, releasing you from their crushing grasp and moved their hands to your shoulders—their hands dwarfed your shoulders as you took a deep breath to expand your rib cage again, but they were gentle as they just let their hands rest there. You gave them a much more gentle smile, one you hoped portrayed how happy you were to see them. You didn’t expect to actually catch them while you were here, but at least now you could give Caleb some good news. “Yeah, I’m… a bit of a mess aren’t I?”

They lifted their hand off your left shoulder and gestured to where they expected an arm to be. “What the fuck happened? Why are you here?”

You gave them an apprehensive smile and gestured to where they’d been sitting. “That’s, a long story, Brother. If you have the time, I’d love to catch up.”

They nodded quickly, and stepped back over to where they’d been sitting and moved to return to their seat; you followed and sat beside them, the motion of sitting on the bench seating beside a Brother feeling exquisite. You sat shoulder to shoulder with them, and they leaned into your touch—it pained you to wonder how long it’d been since they’d gotten to do this last.

“First and foremost, why the fuck are you here?” they asked for the fourth time.

You gave them a shrug, not sure if you wanted to give them the whole schpeal, including the bad news about your relation to their squadron leader when they were finally getting a chance to relax in your presence. “COI got me as I was fleeing a raid. Completed my Realization, and I’ve been settling in for the last few weeks on medical downtime. Councilor Umbra asked if I’d hop onto the Iridescent to help out with an issue the Captain’s having.”

Their eyes narrowed at you. “The fly-bys,” they said more than asked, and you nodded. “My team’s been working ‘round the clock since the Code Yellow was called to make sure the gatlers are up and running. What the fuck’s going on?”

You shook your head. “Eden apparently has developed a long-range transmitter and stuck it on a second-fleet twin engine. They’ve been scanning the Iridescent for the last month.”

Their eyes widened. “What? Who?”

You gave them a look that said you didn’t want to say, but they kept watching you, their brows furrowing a bit when you wouldn’t answer. “It’s Jedd. The Iridescent’s scanner is able to read the ship’s ID, and I know that one by heart.”

A brief flash of anger crossed their face before they reigned it in. Seems they had a similar opinion of Jedd that you did. “I was apprehensive at first about getting the gatlers up and running but… Now I’m not, so much.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sounds like he and his squad left as bad a taste in your mouth as he did mine?”

They nodded at that. “Okay, so, go back. The fuck happened to you? Long hair? The arm?”

You gave them a laughing smile, tickled that they mentioned your hair first. “I… was in prison for a long time. They took their sweet time figuring out how to kill me.” You gestured to your lack of arm. “Almost did, but. I’m apparently a cockroach.”

Their face fell at that, and they hissed barely above a whisper, “What the fuck did they do to you?”

The camera displaying that fuzzy black and white photo of the fish monster entered your vision for just a second, and you had to shake your head to dislodge it. “I… don’t want to talk about it. It was hell.”

They watched you with concern plain on their face. “I’m glad to see you.”

You gave them a warm smile. “I’m glad to see you too. I’ve heard that the council keeps us apart on purpose, so I’m glad I was able to catch you while I was here.”

They turned their face to look at the plate of food they hadn’t touched since you got their attention. “It’s been… so long since I saw a Brother last. Even if I get wind that one is on the Iridescent for any reason, it’s like Rylee has a reason to keep me busy.”

You watched them with sorrow. You wanted so badly to tell them the plan you had in the works to get the council to ease off of your Brothers, but also didn’t want to get their hopes up in case it didn’t go anywhere. Best you could do was be there for them while you could. “How have you been?”

They shrugged, moving to pick up their fork and poke at their food. “Busy. Tired. Lonely. Rylee appreciates the good work I do, but, it’s nothing like Eden here. If folks aren’t scared of me, they want nothing to do with me. When I was first assigned here, my supervisor was harsh about having an Edenite in his charge, no matter how well I did. When Rylee demoted him and had him reassigned to Opulet for bad practices and shoddy work, and appointed me as supervisor due to my hard and good work, I thought things might be different, but. Folks just don’t want to associate with me. My team knows I do good work, and that I direct them to work well, but it’s like pulling teeth to get them to talk to me, even about issues.”

Your brows furrowed as they talked, and you moved to rest your head on their shoulder in a Brothers’ gesture. They took a deep breath that seemed like they’d been holding it, and beneath your weight, you could feel them relax a bit. They’d probably been holding that tension for five years…

“You said you’re visiting for an assignment? Where have you been stationed?” they asked after several long minutes of just soaking in your presence.

“I’m currently a permanent resident of Derin, but not stationed there doing anything yet because I’m on medical downtime. This is my first assignment, and… It’s still too soon,” you replied.

“Wait. Isn’t that where Caleb’s stationed?” their tone picked up, and they turned to look to you.

You gave them a smile. “He says hi.”

Their face pinched, but they caught themself before they could cry. “How is he?”

“He’s doing well, was beyond excited to hear I was getting to come on the Iridescent, and made sure I knew to tell you hi for him,” you replied.

Their face made the motion of screwing up to cry and straightening out rapidly as they tried very hard not to. “Can, you… tell him I miss him?”

You nodded emphatically. “I absolutely will. He misses you too, and I know he does even more than he’s ever told me outright.”

They moved a hand to scrub at their eyes quietly.

Wait. You got a glimpse of Kora’s PII sitting on the table in front of them, and that made you think of something. Was that possible…? You leaned against them further to reach into your pocket to pull your PII from it, which prompted them to look to what you were doing.

“Do, you know how to use these things? I’m… still learning,” you admitted, holding the little tablet aloft to refer to it.

“For the most part. I’ve stumbled across most information, since… well… no one explains anything to me,” they said with a defeated tone.

You gave them a concerned look—their situation was so much more dire than you thought it was. “Do… you know if it’s possible to give someone contact information, without having that contact’s PII there to scan?”

They nodded. “You, put the receiver’s PII in pairing mode, and there’s a share feature on the transmitter’s PII’s contact listing.”

“Can you show me? Also, you should have my contact too,” you held your PII toward them.

Their brows raised in excitement, as though they hadn’t realized you could even do that, and reached for theirs. They immediately tapped into the contact list and set theirs into pairing mode; you held your PII up to theirs, and in an instant your name showed up on their contact list—which was incredibly short compared to yours, and made you feel horrible for them.

“Keep your PII in pairing mode,” you said, and as they tapped to do that, you scrolled to find Caleb’s name in your contacts list.

They took a sharp inhale when they saw his name on your little tablet, and you held the screen toward them so they could see the interface. They reached to carefully tap on your PII’s screen, then held their tablet to yours—after a second, Caleb’s name appeared on their contact list. Their face screwed up for real this time, and a couple tears fell from their eyes, and they held their PII tenderly. It made you smile as you watched.

They leaned their head down to rest on top of yours. “Thank you so much, Simon…” they said quietly, their voice pinched.

“It’s the least I can do. If I manage to get my hands on Gregor’s, I’ll make sure it gets to you too, somehow,” you said resolutely.

They made a noise that you could only interpret as choked surprise, and they nodded.

“I just called Caleb last night, so I know it’s possible to do from here; probably not while in FTLT, but,” you continued, encouragingly. “He’s on shift between 0800 and 1800 each day, but he’s pretty responsive to messages while he’s on shift.”

“You’re a life saver, Brother… How could I ever repay you?” they picked their head up off of yours to look to you.

You gave them a gentle smile. “Stay strong, Brother. That’s all I can ask from you.”

“It’ll be a lot easier now,” they replied, their voice pinched again glancing at Caleb’s name on their PII.

You moved to put your PII back into your pocket, and lifted your head from Kora’s shoulder. “You should message him; he’s probably looking for something to do since he’s off shift soon and I’m not there for him to bother. I’m going to go get something to eat, but I’ll be right back, okay?”

They nodded with an excitement that was hard not to mirror. You gave them a pat on the shoulder before you moved to stand; as you headed off, they had stooped over their comparatively tiny tablet and begun to type.

When you returned with a plate of food, they were wiping tears from their eyes. They looked up as you set your plate down and moved to sit beside them.

“It worked, it actually worked,” they said, their voice tight from crying but their tone was ecstatic. “It’s really him.”

You scooted to sit close to them, pressing your shoulder against theirs again, just like it was normal to back on Eden. They pressed their weight back against you, nearly knocking you off balance if you hadn’t been expecting them to. You got a glance over their arm at their PII, which was still open to Caleb’s message history, and while you didn’t want to pry into their conversation, you saw a lot of capitalized letters it made you chuckle; that certainly was Caleb alright.

“I’m surprised he’s not text-shouting at me too,” you chuckled, though you moved to pull your PII from your pocket to see if you’d just somehow missed the message alert sound. Taking a cursory glance at it, there was no new messages. Huh. You let it slide back into your pocket.

Kora gave you a smile, “I told him I’ll call him when I’m not in the mess hall, so I’m surprised too. How, did you two meet? Didn’t you say the council separates us?”

You returned their smile at first, but it fell a bit—you weren’t sure you wanted to tell Kora that their own squadmate was being allowed to have contact with another Brother because you were an ; that sounded like you’d just break their heart. “He’s my medic. I… don’t know why we haven’t been separated yet… The council knows we’re both Brothers… I suspect it’s because I’ve been so hurt, and it was just happenstance, but, I am afraid of when inevitably I’m better…”

Kora frowned. “Hopefully they let you two keep on being together. I hope Caleb hasn’t been as miserable as I have, and I would hate to know he’d have to go back to it after getting to have a Brother again.”

You watched them with sorrow. “I’m going to see what I can do… The council seems to be understanding what they have in having me here, and they’ve been… Sort of loose with me. That’s how it feels at least. Me, Right Hand to The Father, working on the bridge of the largest shipping freighter in existence.”

They gave you a very slight smile. “That’s… how I felt when Rylee promoted me. I’m the head mechanic of the Iridescent. …I just wish the people were kinder,” they sighed.

“I’m sorry, Kora,” you said lightly.

“How do you do it, Simon?” they studied your face. “You seem so at ease. You made a Brothers’ greeting at me in the middle of a COI ship with tons of people around. You’re interacting with the council?”

You gave them a gentle smile. “Turns out, being Father’s right hand gave me the practice I needed for it. I’m not bothered by these people, not when they’re not threatening my life, at least…” You studied their face as you thought about their question. “Otherwise… I’m just a stubborn asshole about it; I make myself talk to people, things don’t get done if I don’t. If I ask a stupid question, at least I do something correct with the answer, whether they think I’m an idiot or not. I’m honest, brutally if I need to be. I’m polite, I do my best to thank even people who are assholes to me; I try to use kind words and plain language until I know that I can be a cussful jerk to someone and they don’t mind it. …So far, it’s gotten me pretty far, here.”

They nodded quietly, seeming to contemplate your words.

“I think you have it in you to do that too,” you said gently. “You’re my Brother. I know how we act, I know how we operate. I know deep down you have the confidence to do it too.” Their shoulders fell and they looked away from you. “It’s so, so fucking hard,” you emphasized, moving to put your hand on their arm. “Believe me, I know. I started practicing this while I was in prison; it was so goddamn fucking hard because that’s just not how we were raised, but I’ve gotten nothing but complements from folks since my Realization. But I believe in you, Kora. And, it won't work on everyone, I admit. But, to those who gives a shit, it makes life so much easier.”

They were quiet for a while, and you weren’t sure they were going to respond, so you moved to tuck into your food, but didn’t move from where the two of you were pressed against each other.

“Father did always encourage us to emulate you,” Kora said quietly, eventually. “Can’t be that hard when I’ve already been doing it, huh?”

They caught you with your mouth full, and you gave them a bit of a shove with your weight. They looked to you, and patiently waited while you chewed.

“So I’ve been told,” you replied flatly. “But. As I told Caleb; I don’t want you to think I’m better than you, especially when Father was always pushing me to do and be better—he was never happy with me either, so. He never actually thought I was any better, so there’s nothing for you to compare to.”

They made a motion like they were going to say something, but then decided against it.

“Kora, I’m encouraging you to change a little bit, to make your life better. I don’t want you to be me, I want you to be Kora, my Brother. Just, a maybe less miserable Kora,” you said, watching them pointedly as you moved to take another bite. “I know you’ve been here for 5 years, but,” you said through chewing, “I don’t think you’ve integrated. I know this isn’t Eden—it can't be Eden. But it’s also better than Eden; we get a second chance away from the insanity that is Eden. Grab it by the throttle and fly hard with it.”

They frowned, but seemed to accept your words. “Do folks know you’re an Edenite?”

“Oh yeah,” you said as you went for another bite. “Hard as fuck for folks to not notice; not a lot of one-armed people around.” They snorted. “But. I have gotten a lot of complements that if folks hadn’t known, then they would’ve never guessed. So I gotta be doing something right.”

They made the motion to say something to that, when suddenly your name was called from nearby. You both raised your heads and looked in the direction of the call—heading down the hall was your crew, the three of them having obvious looks of confusion on their faces. You waved them over as you finished chewing your mouthful, and though you felt Kora try to take their weight off of you, you moved right along with them, keeping in physical contact with them.

Kora looked to your crew nervously as you gave the trio a professional smile. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Rylee said you’d be in the mess hall for supper, so we figured we’d join you and catch you up on what we’ve been doing,” Hubert said, eyeing Kora carefully.

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied. You weren’t unaware of the odd looks that the crew were giving you and Kora, nor did you miss that Kora was quite uncomfortable. “Folks, this is my Brother and lead mechanic of the Iridescent, Kora,” you introduced them with a warm smile. “Kora, this is my crew that’s gonna help me deal with the Jedd situation; Oliver is a navigation specialist, Hubert is a comms specialist, and Wanda is a mechanic too.”

The four gave polite nods, and Wanda immediately reached out her hand to Kora to offer a handshake. They hesitated, but ultimately took it. “Good to meet you, sir,” she said.

“Um. Mx,” they corrected carefully.

“My bad; good to meet you, mx,” she corrected herself as they parted.

Oliver gave them a gentle smile. “Good to meet you, mx.”

Hubert pointed to the two of you sitting so close. “More, this is how Brothers act?”

You gave him a wry smile. “Of course it is. When you’re cramming a hundred of us in a mess hall all at once for mess, some of us smaller folk get lost in the crunch. This is comfortable.”

Both Kora and Hubert snorted and his brows raised in acceptance. “Well, I can see you weren’t lying when you said y’all were able to withstand how fucking cramped that ship is.”

Kora gave you a curious glance at what he was talking about. You nodded to the trio. “Why don’t you folks go get food, we can keep chatting as we eat.”

The crew nodded in agreement and filed off.

“What are they talking about?” Kora asked you just above a whisper.

You gave them a placating smile. “Umbra requisitioned me an Edenian ship that ze’ve had stashed away; we’re going to intercept Jedd’s ship, hopefully take him and his squad alive for questioning.”

Kora’s eyes got big. “Didn’t you say you’re hurt? How the fuck are you going to do that?”

You shrugged. “We’re going to see. I’m hoping that they’ll be so spooked by hearing my voice they give it up immediately, or be willing to stand down to me just in general. I have a feeling it’ll come down to threatening them with the Iridescent, though,” you said as you took another bite of food. “If I need to beat him senseless, though, I will.”

“Simon, please be careful… Jedd’s no joke.”

You gave them a knowing smile. “I know.” You put your fork down and unzipped your jumpsuit to your belly button as you chewed, pulling it out of the way so Kora could see. “See that scar? He stabbed me there in a scrap about 10 years ago, IMC,” you said, gesturing to a decently long scar on the right side of your stomach before pulling the zipper back up. “He and I have always been at odds. He’s the reason I’m here, it was his shitty fucking raid plan that went wrong; so I have a bone to pick with him.”

Kora gave you a concerned look and sighed. Then they seemed to think of something. “Simon, where’s your squad?”

You had picked up your fork and was going for another bite when they asked that. You lowered your fork back to the plate and stared at it. “...They died at Filament Station.”

“No,” Kora breathed. When you nodded quietly, they wrapped their arm around you and held you in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry… We lost Terry there too.”

You nodded quietly and took a deep, steadying breath. “Caleb told me. I’m sorry,” you looked up at them.

“Just… Don’t let us lose you too,” Kora said gently, watching you with concern.

“I won’t,” you reaffirmed, moving to offer them your fist like Caleb always did.

It took them a moment, but finally they seemed to remember the old gesture, and they reached with their free hand to tap your fist with theirs.

You gave them a smile. “Y’know, when I first met Caleb on Derin, he offered me that. It’d been so long since we used that one that I didn’t even recognize it at first.”

“Really? We used it all the time,” they replied curiously.

You had to chuckle. “Was it his fault, because he seems to like that one.”

They gave you a smile. “No, it was Terry’s.”

Your smile softened. “Keeping him alive then, through memory.”

Kora took a shaky breath, but nodded. Their eyes trailed away from you at some movement, and you both spotted your crew returning with plates of food. Kora moved to take their arm back, but replaced their shoulder up against yours.

“You should finish your food, especially if you’ve been so busy; I know I distracted you,” you reminded Kora as your crew moved to sit on the opposite side of the table from the two of you.

They gave you a gentle smile, though it was quickly replaced by a nervous one as Wanda moved to sit directly in front of them; Oliver moved to sit in front of you, and Hubert opted for beside Oliver.

Without hesitance, Wanda addressed Kora, “Have you seen the Edenian ship in airdock 3?”

You watched them carefully; Kora seemed taken aback by the fact that a Consolidate was speaking to them, but they shook their head. “I’ve been working on making sure the rail gatlers are in working order since the Code Yellow was called, unfortunately.”

“Damn, she’s a pretty one. If you get a chance, you should check her out,” she replied, moving to tuck into her food.

Before Kora could reply, the pieces put themselves together into your head, and you gave them a friendly shove. “You should! I think you’d be pleasantly surprised at seeing it,” you gave them a wry smile.

They looked to you with furrowed brows. Oliver and Hubert gave you similar confused and questioning looks.

You looked to your crew. “Who I was on call with yesterday? Is Kora’s squadmate.”

Wanda’s brows raised and she spoke through her mouthful to Kora, “That’s your ship?”

Kora’s eyes went wide, and they looked to you. “You have my ship??”

You gave them a big smile. “Like she said, it’s down in airdock 3. Councilor Umbra apparently has had it stashed away ever since, and had it repaired a couple years ago. Caleb gave me the code for the back hatch and it worked, and some of the details he gave me of her quirks matched, so.”

Kora’s face squished, looking like they were trying very hard not to cry.

“We’ve got her up and running on a mish-mash of Edenian and Consolidation tech, Simon, sir,” Oliver piped up, giving Kora a chance to regain their composure.

You looked to him and gave him a nod. “Thank you all for your hard work. What’s the extent of the patching?”

“What did you do to her?” Kora asked with a mixture of confusion and hurt.

You gave them a gentle smile. “The team here was making sure she’s fit to fly, and added Consolidation code to her so she can communicate and fly on Consolidation tech, that’s all.”

They watched you quietly, and looked over the team cautiously.

“Wanda patched in a new display on the console specifically for relay navigation—because the ship isn’t connected to Eden’s network, we weren’t sure where exactly navigation displayed on Eden’s coding since it wasn’t showing anywhere, and we didn’t want to try and overwrite it completely anyway, so we figured this would be an easier solution,” Oliver replied gently, politely putting his fork down as he spoke. “Also, as Simon is going to be the primary pilot, we wanted to leave as much Edenian code intact for him to be able to run the ship properly.Hubert was able to find which displays had comms information, and was able to dual- display comms info in that case, so we’ll be able to visualize both Edenian and Consolidation comm data.”

“I was able to fix that compass,” Wanda piped in through a recently filled mouthful.

“The one Gregor broke?” Kora asked with shock. “I still can't believe he was able to do that…”

Wanda chuckled and nodded. “It was a right mess. Wasn’t able to replace the glass, but. It’s functional at least. You’re telling me one guy punched it so hard it folded in on itself like tin foil?”

Kora gave a gentle smile and nodded. “Gregor’s the same size as I am, but even stronger. His hand was fucked up after, but, no one could blame his reaction.”

Hubert stared at Kora with huge eyes. “How the fuck did you fit two guys your size in that thing??”

They shrugged. “We’re Brothers. We’re used to sitting on top of each other.”

“Sometimes literally,” you added, moving to take a bite of your food. They nodded at that. “Oh, Wanda fixed those monitors on the left,” you suddenly remembered and interjected with your mouth full.

“What? How?” they looked to her.

She gave a slight wry grin. “Apparently the electromagnetic shielding on the port had been stripped or never installed. Just needed some lead foil, and they’re good as new.”

“Oh… I would never have been able to fix them then,” they said with contemplation. “Glad to know it wasn’t just my own failure.”

You set your fork down to give them a reassuring pat on the arm. “You did the best with what we had.”

They nodded, seeming at ease about that thought.

“We ran several simulations, and she should be fit to fly with the new additions,” Hubert spoke up in between taking forkfuls of his food. “Everything responded well and quickly, and relay response times were in the milliseconds, which is pretty good.”

You gave the team a proud smile. “Again, just, thanks for all your hard work. It’s going to make intercepting Jedd’s squad so much easier.”

“Please don’t get my ship damaged, Simon,” Kora looked to you, their face hard.

You gave them an apologetic look. “Well, considering that neither ship has weapons on it, that’ll be the easy part. Caleb already told me that she’s got a bad left list and coasts easily, so it’ll be adjusting for that. No promises she doesn’t come back with some dings.”

Wanda and Hubert snorted. Kora still looked concerned. “Simon… can you pilot with one hand?”

Your face fell into an unsure smile. “I’ve got a lot of practice from back then, and… sure, she’s not the same model as my ship, but I’ve piloted your model a lot too—and I’ve got a lot of spite and confidence behind me, as well as a good team.”

They leaned their face in close to yours. “You damage her, and I’ll feed you to the Tree.”

You gave them a lopsided grin. Wanda choked on her food and Oliver snorted trying not to laugh; Hubert’s eyes widened as he looked toyou.

“Caleb said the same, but about me coming back hurt, so,” you told them with mirth, keeping your grin.

A smile cracked their face. “You and our ship come back untouched. Hear me, Brother?” they said, their own Brother tone coming forth.

You nodded dutifully. “I’ll fly safe, Brother.”

Kora let their eyes linger on you for several moments, then sighed and looked down at their unfinished plate, and moved to check the time on their PII. “I should be getting back to it. There’s still a couple gatlers that need to be checked, and I told Caleb I’d call him after I was done eating.”

“Want another set of hands?” Wanda asked through her last bite.

They looked to her, confused and somewhat curious at her offer.

She looked to you. “Is that okay, boss?”

You gave her a nod. “Absolutely. I’ve only got my-eyes-only data left to process, so you folks are sorta off the hook until I’m done with that. Should be a few more hours at most, and I can always send you a message to meet me in the bridge to go over that info.” You looked to Kora.

They looked to you, confused. You gave them a smile and nodded your head toward Wanda.

They nodded quietly. “I’m… sorry, I’m not used to folks offering me their help. I’d greatly appreciate that.”

“The fuck kinda assholes you got on this boat?” she asked with her mouth full, which earned a small smile from Kora. “We’ll get those guns done quick as FTLT and then we can go down to see your ship. First, though, eat up; I ain’t finished yet.”

They nodded and moved to poke at their plate, keeping in contact with you while they did.

You gave Wanda a thankful smile. “What’s your normal assignment, Wanda?” you couldn’t help but ask, a thought coming to you.

“I’m a dedicated scrapper. I analyze, break down, and recycle various structures. I enjoy it, but the work’s been slow since Eden’s not been as active and in our faces, so I think my supervisor’s been looking for me to do other things,” she lamented.

Perfect. You nodded your head toward Kora. “How’s maintenance for the largest shipping freighter sound?”

Kora blinked and looked to you as they chewed. Wanda made a considering expression. “Think Rylee would take me on?”

“Kora is the lead mechanic. Give them a good demonstration and they might put in a good word for you,” you pressed your weight into their arm in a “trust me, Bro” motion.

She tipped her head back and forth in a motion that she was thinking about it. “Sure, gimme a tour, work together for a few hours,” she said, looking to Kora. “I trust Simon’s judgment, and someone doesn’t get to be a lead of anywhere, let alone the Iridescent without being well capable.”

They gave a soft smile, and you nodded in thanks to Wanda for her complement.

“You remember what I said about being your captain?” you asked.

She gave you a wry smile in return. “Sure do, boss.”

You looked to Kora. “Remember when I mentioned being a cussful jerk to someone who gets it?”

“What, you’re telling me Kora’s got a mouth?” Wanda said with a joking tone.

“Should’ve heard them before you folks came in; I knew they were my Brother just by the swears coming out of their mouth,” you gave them a wry smile.

“Uh, it’s been so long, though,” they responded, a sheepish smile on their face.

“Oh don’t you dare gimme that bullshit, how many times did you say fuck to my face before they got here?” you said pointedly with mirth before taking another bite of food.

“I wanna hear you say it,” Wanda challenged, her tone getting dangerously close to a Brothers’ command.

Kora blinked in surprise at how close she got to it. “I sure as fuck can,” they responded with an assured tone—not quite their Brothers’ tone, but close enough.

Wanda’s face split in a grin. “Sure as fuck you can, I guess.”

Hubert couldn’t hold a snort, which drew your eyes toward him and Oliver, who was watching with a small entertained smile on his face. Hubert caught your eyes and spoke around a mostly chewed mouthful, “What about you, boss? What’s your progress today?”

You chuckled and finished chewing before speaking. “I got all the telemetry data plotted on the Iridescent’s flight path, and begun analyzing it, but so far there’s no rhyme or reason to any of it. I don’t know if that’s because I haven’t analyzed enough yet, or if there isn’t any pattern at all. Needed a break though, and decided to come down here.”

“What would you like us to do then?” Oliver asked before taking another bite.

“I’m not sure. Relax, take some downtime, or get into trouble, I guess,” you replied, mirroring Oliver.

“Works for me,” Hubert said, brows lifting as he went for another bite of food himself.

“Nothing I can help with?” Oliver asked with a soft pressing tone after he’d chewed most of his mouthful.

You shook your head, speaking around yours. “Not with the sensitivity of the data I’m working with, unfortunately.”

He nodded at that.

The three of you fell into silence as you finished your meals, but you watched Kora and Wanda, as they’d picked up their own conversation about different specs of the Iridescent itself. You didn’t want to get your hopes too high, but it was good to see Kora actually talking, and to a Consolidate, after they’d been so adamant that no one wanted to associate with them. They just needed the right team, just like squads. You looked to Hubert and Oliver.

“Unless you want to try and convince Rylee to sign on Wanda,” you said with mirth, your volume low. “Kora needs it.”

“They’ve definitely gotten to talking more in the last half hour than any Edenite I’ve encountered, besides you,” Hubert said with an equally low volume. “So I think you’re on to something.”

You nodded quietly. As you gathered up the last of the food on your plate for one last forkful, you thought about how to respond to that. “We’re all, generally, loud and boisterous. It’s in there in them somewhere, they just gotta unlock it from where it’s been buried for so long, having been isolated.”

He seemed to sit with that; you had to hope that he was remembering what you’d described yesterday, internalizing it—if there was going to be any change in the Consolidation, it had to come from the Consolidates.

Your food done, you gave a sigh, and moved to pat Kora’s arm. They looked to you from their conversation with Wanda, and watched you.

“I, sadly, need to get back to work,” you gave them an apologetic smile. “It’s been good to see you.”

Their face fell. “I understand. It’s been good to see you too.”

“You message or call me whenever you want, you hear me? My time is a little more free than Caleb’s is at the moment, and I know I’m not your squadmate but, if you need a friendly voice,” you offered.

They nodded quietly.

You moved to stand, letting their shoulder be another point of leverage to allow you to get up easier. They watched you best they could with the angle, but when they turned back toward the table, mischievousness seized you and instead of reaching for your dish to take back and leave, you moved instead to quickly lean against their back and reach to aggressively ruffle their hair.

They made a startled noise, but as soon as they realized what you were doing, tried ducking—to no avail. “Simon—!”

You snickered evilly as they tried to brush you off, and only continued because you could also feel them chuckling. “Y’know, this is so much harder with one hand—”

“I would hope so!” they said much louder than you’d expected them to, and though you were trying to dodge their flailing, they got a hand on you and pulled your arm taut, your chest pressed against their back tightly.

“Fuck—Kora please don’t actually flip me over the table—” you stuttered quickly.

They froze, and you registered that where your crew had been chuckling, Oliver gave a startled squeak, and both Wanda and Hubert seemed to tense as if to bail out of their seats just in case.

“Not my squadmate, but, you still knew that was my instinct?” Kora said with mirth, and carefully let you go—only once they were sure you weren’t going to continue your assault.

You put your hand on their shoulder and moved into their line of sight to give them a wry grin. “No, but I know where that hold goes, and it’s exactly one direction, especially for someone my size versus yours.”

They returned your grin, and you moved to press your forehead to their head; they leaned into the gesture, and you gave them a gentle pat on the shoulder as you parted from them.

As you moved to grab your plate to clean up after yourself, you caught Wanda chuckling, and Hubert’s cocked eyebrow that questioned your antics. “Yeah, yeah, more Brother shenanigans. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to go flying over a table at mess,” you replied to his unanswered question.

“At least once a day,” Kora added.

“What, why?” Oliver squeaked incredulously.

“That’s just our culture,” you replied. “We fuck around with each other constantly, it’s part of our bond.”

Kora’s smile fell into a gentle one as they nodded. “I miss it.”

“So do I, Bro,” you gave them a gentle shoulder check as you moved to head off.

“Hey.” Kora caught your attention as you left. You turned to look to them. “Fly safe, Brother.”

“I will. And you too, the Last Tree still needs you,” you gave them a smile before turning to head off.

“After mapping the entry and exit trajectories of the aggressor ship based on the Iridescent’s flight path, I can say with some certainty that there is no real pattern to their movements, frustratingly. Upon coming to this conclusion, I realized; it makes sense. Because Eden has always had blueprints of the Consolidation’s stations, they would have no reason to be doing fly-bys of the other stations in order to gather more information. But a highly mobile and customizable entity such as a freighter, even one this large, means that someone planning to make a hit on an entity such as that, needs to check that it hasn’t been updated or changed it’s layout in any fashion in the last 25ish years,” you stated.

You, your crew, and the Iridescent’s bridge crew were gathered around the war table as you delivered your findings from studying all of the data that they’d been able to pull. Several faces fell at the news that there was no news, and you were ready for that—this wasn’t good, and meant you were essentially at square one.

“I have to assume that the randomized elements to their fly-by trajectories were to throw off study just like this, to create confusion. When put into chronological order, the angles and degrees of entry and exit show no actionable pattern, it’s truly random. When put into angle and degree order, I can say with certainty that they are trying to get a full body scan of the Iridescent,” you said, opening another crude map that you’d created, but this was a diagram of the Iridescent, with colored sections of it’s hull. “Based on data Trixie was able to code into the Iridescent’s scan report, we can tell that the aggressor’s ship has a transmitter range of about the same size as the Iridescent’s own—this is why they don’t have to get any closer to the ship than they have, which is… a worrying thought. But, I was able to map what, based on the trajectories they’ve taken, they’ve been able to scan of the Iridescent,” you said, gesturing to the diagram you made. “They’re far from done getting a complete image, but it looks like, in my experience, that they’re prioritizing scanning weapons and entry points.”

While everyone looked troubled, Rylee looked both the most troubled, and the most determined as she studied your diagram. “You said that the ship would need to restock every few days; do you believe that they’ve been dropping off this information at Eden when they head back for the restock?”

“I’m sorry, captain, I can’t say…” you replied, your tone apologetic. “This is a mission unlike any other I’ve ever seen Eden undertake. My gut instinct says yes, because if you come home with full pockets, you don’t just keep your pockets full. But, I can also see a situation in which they aren’t, because scanning the ship in this fashion is taking so long that I can foresee Father being irritated with them that it’s taking so long, and they’d want to bring Father a complete blueprint and skip the irritation.”

“Knowing those men, and knowing the leader of Eden, which do you think is the true one?” she looked to you.

You sat with that for a few moments. She had a point; your gut instinct was your gut instinct—you’re the one who would drop off every bit of information, so none was lost. Jedd was sloppy, and always more interested in pleasing Father. You took a sip of a tea that Rylee had offered to the whole crew while you thought—it was extremely pungent and each sip felt like a punch to the mouth, but it was delicious and had a warming effect that traveled even to the stomach. Ginger and turmeric, she’d called it. The offerings that the Consolidation had, so far seemed like they would never cease to amaze you. “When you put it that way… I’d say the latter. Though… It still baffles me why they’re only doing one fly-by per day. Two, I feel would suffice—not too irritating, not going too out of their way to leave and come back—”

Rylee’s head shot up out of her hand where she’d been resting it in deep thought, and startled you into stopping. “How are they finding us?” She looked to you. “Simon, how does Eden track Consolidation ships? They’re leaving, far outside even their extended communications range, and you’ve said before that Eden doesn’t use relays—how the fuck are they finding us?”

Your mouth hung open in confusion—she was right, how the fuckwere they finding the Iridescent? “Um. Historically, they don’t. Hits on personnel-sized ships have always been by pure happenstance, running across one organically. I… would have to assume they were able to map the Iridescent’s flight schedule over the last month; while Eden doesn’t know its exact telemetry, we did know the Iridescent made a habitual circuit. Following a “shipping lane”, if I could call it that, would make sense? And… honestly that could account for some of the randomness of their entry telemetry—if they happened to run into the Iridescent while looking for it, they’d just do a fly-by from that angle.”

Rylee seemed displeased by this and tapped her nails on the arm of her captain’s chair. She looked to Peter, who also looked disturbed by this news.

“We may have to change our flight pattern, captain,” he said the bad news aloud. She nodded and sighed to that.

“Let’s, figure out first what information they’ve taken back to Eden. There’s a lot riding on us taking them alive, but, I think I can do it,” you said gently.

“Let’s talk about that,” Rylee tented her hands in front of her. “With no pattern, and no other leads, do you want to take another day here to study their movements, or do you want to pull the trigger on flying them down?”

You sat with that. There really wasn’t any other reason to not intercept them tomorrow, but the randomness of when they would appear was the biggest downside. You took another sip of tea to formulate your words. “I don’t see any reason not to do it tomorrow, so let’s put together a plan,” you replied.

“Alright, Mr. Raid Planner, what do you have for me?” Rylee asked with mirth.

You lifted a brow, but remembered you’d mentioned in no uncertain terms how many raid plans you’d been involved in during your official statement on what happened with Filament Station, as well as had mentioned it previously to the crew, and made a realization motion with your head. “Well. The simplest and most elegant plan is one that my crew is not going to appreciate hearing,” you started, running your eyes across the trio.

Wanda lifted a brow, Hubert’s brows fell into a frown, and Oliver watched you quietly.

“Instead of waiting on the Iridescent, in the bridge, which is more than half an hour’s walk, maybe ten minutes of hustle, to the airdock, not including time to get suited up and depressurize the hanger, I propose we launch first thing in the morning and hover in the Iridescent’s shadow. There’s no rhyme or reason to when they appear, and even though we could be missing our chance if they do a fly-by during the sleep cycle, you folks would absolutely not agree to a sleep over on the rogue, and I don’t want to subject you to guard shifts either—you’re already going to hate spending who knows how long in the ship just waiting by, so to minimize your discomfort, first thing in the morning is the best I can propose. Get breakfast, have some rations on board… But I think that it’ll be an easier time than if the Iridescent has to try and reposition, and then get engines going at full speed just to try and keep up with the fly,” you said resolutely.

Hubert gave a heavy sigh, but it also sounded as though he wanted to give a grumble and managed to keep it to himself. Wanda nodded with no hesitation, and Oliver looked concerned, but, you were beginning to realize that nothing he did came without concern to him.

“We’ll still have to reposition and attempt to keep up, but your point about not having to take the time to prepare to launch is sound,” Rylee agreed. She looked to your crew. “What say you?”

Hubert gave another heavy sigh, “Yeah. The logic is sound. I guess.”

Wanda snorted at Hubert’s reaction. “I’m fine with that.”

Oliver nodded. “Probably for the best. That also means that we won’t be looking for them, and can catch up to them ourselves much quicker.”

You nodded to that.

Rylee turned to Veronica, who you learned was her night shift pilot and acting captain, which made sense why you didn’t see her earlier. “Could you please have the rogue geared up for flight? Standard operating gear will suffice.”

“Standard, captain? Aren’t they flying out just a short ways?” Veronica replied.

Rylee glanced to you for a split second before her face set hard at Veronica. “We are going to treat this as though something, anything could go wrong. Standard gear; the ship has the cargo space for it, so there is no reason not to.”

Your face went cold as you realized why she glanced to you—the provisions box in the sub… You nodded gratefully to her.

Veronica made a “very well” motion with her head, and moved to stand to do as she was asked. Rylee watched her go with a hard stare, not quite a glare, but bordering on it.

“We left the ship open, so your stock crew won’t need to crack it or ask how to open it,” Hubert called after her.

“Thank you, I’ll let them know,” she replied as she moved to her work station.

“What’s your plan from there, once they’re spotted?” Wanda asked, watching you with an almost bored curiosity.

“Fly hard into their sensors range and hail them,” you shrugged. “We’ll have to get in close to get a response since the rogue is unmodified, but if I hail them from range, that gives them time to panic— hopefully, that panic startles them long enough to let us magnetize to them without them taking evasive maneuvers.”

“Will they panic, sir?” Oliver asked curiously.

“I would hope so. Once the rogue comes up as a long-MIA ship on their scanner, that isn’t my ship, and that I hail them, I’m hoping that throws them into complete chaos. So much of what’s going on in this situation is completely new, nothing Eden usually tries to do or deal with. I’m going to bleed that for every drop of confusion—I’m going to have to,” you replied. Seeing curious looks from Wanda and Hubert made you continue, “I’m not fully healed from my Realization. If it comes down to a scrap, I’m not going to be able to put up a fight like I’m used to. The squadron leader, Jedd, has almost killed me once in our lives… well, twice, actually—I meant, in a scrap,” you gave a chuckle.

“I’m down to scrapping at your side,” Wanda piped up.

You gave her a thankful smile. “If you’re really up to it, you’ll have to be prepared for the dirtiest tricks ever conceived. We don’t fight fair—that’s how we were raised, how we were trained. And it’ll be four-on-two, at worst. We scrap with each other for fun, have a daily training regiment. This is serious.”

The more you talked, the wider a grin split her face. “Sounds like a good romp.”

“What about Kora, could we borrow them?” Hubert looked to Rylee.

She blinked for a second, then realized. Her brows raised. “If you believe that you would benefit from having Kora along with you, you’re more than welcome. Just, don’t get my head mechanic killed or maimed,” she said both sternly and with mirth.

“Fuck yeah, getting to scrap with someone their size sounds like fun,” Wanda somehow grinned wider.

You chuckled and set your tea on the war table to pull your PII from your pocket. “They haven’t scrapped in 5 years, so while they’ll be out of practice, at least they’re in physical shape for it. Plus, I can’t remember if any of Jedd’s squad are big guys, and if there are, it’ll be useful to have Kora’s size on hand.”

“How the fuck are you going to scrap with them? In that little cargo hanger?” Hubert asked incredulously as you tapped around on your PII to pull up Kora’s contact info.

“We’ll see, but probably,” you replied, moving to hit the call button, and then the speaker control.

“Oh, shit… How are we going to fit all 5 of us on that tiny ship, especially when Kora’s such a big person?” Hubert swore.

You didn’t have time to address his concern, as Kora answered the call. “Hey, Simon, what’s up?”

“Have a proposition for you, Brother,” you started; they made a curious noise in reply, which prompted you to continue, “How would you like to fly with us tomorrow, and scrap along side me and Wanda with Jedd and his squad?”

They were quiet for a disproportionate amount of time, and you weren’t sure if they were still on the comms until you heard them take a breath. “I… would have to ask Rylee,” they replied cautiously.

She gave a smile. “I give you permission, Kora. Why don’t you come up to the bridge so you can speak with the team easier?”

They were quiet for a long time again. “Um. Okay. Yes, captain, I’ll, be right up.”

They disconnected the call, and you couldn’t help but smile. You looked to Hubert. “Thank you for thinking of Kora. Now it’ll be a real scrap, and hopefully that’ll give them some confidence.” You moved to slide your PII back into your pocket, and retrieve your tea for another sip.

“While we’re waiting for their arrival, could I ask if you’re willing to pick up another mechanic, captain?” Wanda looked to Rylee.

Her brows lifted and looked Wanda over. “Unhappy with where you are?”

Wanda shook her head. “No, but. There’s little work for me on Damsel, and, I think Kora could use the help.”

Rylee’s brows furrowed. “Why do you say that? Are you saying my ship is in poor repair?” she asked mostly with mirth, but there was a tinge of defensiveness.

“Not at all, captain. But. Kora, could use the help. They seemed quite a bit livelier after I spent some time giving them a hand today,” Wanda replied.

Rylee’s brows furrowed in confusion at first, probably wondering when that happened, but she sat with that, holding her head in her hand in thought. “What magic did you do to my head mechanic?” she chuckled.

You gave her a smile. “Reminded them that they’re a Brother, and has the confidence buried in them to hold a conversation with a Consolidate who understands Edenites.”

Rylee looked to you. “What magic did you do to my head mechanic?” she gave you a grin.

“Reminded them that they’re a Brother, captain, and that they have the confidence buried in them to hold a conversation with a Consolidate who understands Edenites,” you repeated, holding your smile.

She sat with that. “What do you mean by that, Simon? Could you, help me understand?” she asked, her tone turning curious.

“We’re loud and crass folk, councilor. We talk back, we fight with each other, but at the end of the day it’s all out of respect—for ourselves, for our brethren. When able to be ourselves, you get… well, me. I’m, more polite with you or another Consolidate than I am with a Brother, because I taught myself to be, but. If you got Kora talking like the Brother I know, you’d get similar to me—just, with, a more cussful dialogue. Sharp, determined, confident,” you paused to think of how to word what you really wanted to say. “We… don’t get to be our best, within the Consolidation; you have, half of Kora, at the most, at your disposal.”

Rylee looked to Wanda with expectant eyes, as if to ask her confirmation. Wanda nodded to her. “Kora knows what they’re talking about, and they’re good at it. I’m guessing that’s why they’re your head mechanic. But the longer we worked, the more they came out of their shell; I don’t hold my language, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. That, seemed to help Kora relax. We got work done so fast that they were pissed it took them as long to do the other gatlers that they’ve been working on for the last, what, 30 hours? And I hardly did a thing; gatler’s aren’t my wheelhouse, it was all Kora and me just, chatting with them.”

Rylee looked back to you. You could only nod. “Consolidate, who understands Edenites,” you said, gesturing to Wanda.

She held her eyes on you. “What magic have you done to my Consolidates?” she asked with mirth.

Your smile morphed into a grin as you took a sip of your tea. “Nothing more than tell them my expectations, and how best to interact with me, councilor.”

She blinked slowly, seeming to internalize that. “What are your expectations, and how do I best interact with you, and other Edenites, Simon?”

You watched her with confidence, steeling your voice just as you would with Father, or your Uncles. “My expectations are that my crew of experts is to give me their expert opinion; I don’t want anyone to hold their tongue just because I’m in a leadership position. Tell me to fuck off, tell me I fucking suck at my job, tell me I’m wrong; but be right about it. That is the expectation all Brothers hold of each other. As a leader, I’m expected to listen to my experts, and that is how we communicate; I’m not a leader because I’m good at it. I’m a leader because my crew respects me and my decisions, because I respect and listen to them. …Is that, not how the council operates?” Your brows furrow as you thought about that. “I’ve been told that the council makes decisions with their people. Sure, you still have the last call, but, you take your people—your experts—into consideration, and your people trust you to hear them out…”

She sat with that.

“We’re not so different. We just have a different coat of paint,” you said softly. “But. That’s what my Brothers are missing. Their supervisors don’t operate as the council does, how Brothers do… so, insubordination means they can’t be themselves with the threat of punishment hanging over their head.”

You both were quiet for several long moments, and when you didn’t seem to make a move to say anything, Rylee did instead; “Thank you for your insight,” she said with a genuine tone, though her expression said she was deep in thought.

“Kora needs a new team,” Wanda came out and said it plainly. “Or, their team needs an ass kicking. It was pretty clear to me that their team doesn’t communicate with them, in any fashion, so while, no, the Iridescent is in great shape, I have a feeling it could be better, more efficient. I’d be happy to either kick their asses into shape, or replace them; your call, captain.”

Rylee looked to her as she spoke, and gave a lopsided grin. “I’ll take the night to consider it.” She turned her eyes to Oliver and Hubert. “What say you two? Do you feel as though working with Simon has given you a better understanding of working with Edenites?”

Oliver nodded. “I think so. Simon was very clear about his expectations and has worked with us in the exact way that he described. I feel that he’s held a good dialogue with us, both about our concerns and our input, and, I feel confident if I had to work with another Edenite, if based on observing how Simon and Kora interacted, I would know better how to engage them in that dialogue to get the work done well.”

Hubert shrugged. “I think Simon’s less Edenite than any other I’ve ever encountered, and while I do greatly appreciate his openness and teamwork skills, I think that he’s the outlier; when we met Kora in the mess hall, if Simon hadn’t been there, I don’t think we would’ve gotten two words out of them. Now… Simon’s made it pretty clear that that’s a problem that has come with living with the issue that he described, but, I don’t know that I could work with an Edenite that didn’t have that translator there. That distrust has already been set in stone,” Hubert said with a genuine, if irritating tone.

“Thank you both for your observations,” Rylee said, and looked to you.

Before she could say anything, you spoke first. “I’ve already talked to my psychologist back on Derin. I want to do something to help the Council at large understand this, and… I dunno, something to help my Brothers too. Like, we did for Kora today. Nothing’s set in stone, nothing’s started but… Hubert’s right. But, so is Wanda. It’s going to have to be a team effort from both sides.”

She watched you quietly. “Keep me apprised. Have your psych—Beckett, right?—contact Juniper, our psych, with his findings.”

You nodded dutifully.

The crew turned to look when the elevator door opened and Kora stepped onto the bridge, their hulking height but a mere fraction of when you had greeted them earlier the way they were hunched over. Rylee gestured to an open seat at the end of the war table, and they gingerly moved to sit in it, their eyes trailing over everyone present carefully, but they had to tear their eyes from you to keep watching Rylee, politely.

You could see that they wanted to say something, but were too nervous. Before anyone could interrupt them, you held up a hand in a “wait” motion, and then gave a gesture to Kora to speak.

“Um…” they started, but as their eyes trailed back to you, they seemed to get a bit more confidence. “What’s the plan? Why ask me?”

“What, miss the chance to fly and scrap with a Brother again?” you asked, giving them a sincere grin.

That cracked a smile on their face, and it nearly disappeared as their eyes left you—you turned to look, and Rylee had given them a wry smile too.

“I need at least a third fighter, Kora. It’s Jedd; just like you warned me, he’s not one to fuck around with, and… I’m still healing from my Realization. Plus, I would love for you to be able to fly in your ship again, and get to fly again,” you said to them.

“You’re… Okay with this, captain?” they asked carefully.

Her smile to them softened. “I had to be convinced,” she said with an overtly joking tone, “but, yes. Just, don’t get too hurt. I need my best mechanic.”

They gave her a small smile. “Thank you, captain.”

Rylee looked to you with an entertained surprise. “That’s, Kora’s ship in the airdock?”

You nodded, as did they. They answered for you; “Wanda and I popped down to see, and, yes, it is my old ship,” they said with a giddiness that was wholly unfamiliar.

She smiled gently at them, “Small world. Speaking of Wanda; what’s your opinion of her as a mechanic?”

They looked to her, and she gave them a confident expression. Looking back to Rylee, they studied her face before saying anything, “I think she’s a hard and good worker. She’s quick, and observant, and will give me her observations. I would be happy to have her on my team, if you would have her, captain.”

She nodded to them. “I’ll give it a think over night.”

As Kora nodded, Wanda moved to pull her PII out of her pocket and started tapping on it.

“So… what is the plan?” Kora looked to you as they asked.

As you got Kora up to speed on the plan so far, your PII made the message received sound from your pocket; you ignored it for now. Kora’s brows furrowed at the plan. “So once we magnetize to their ship, what do we do then? I assume it depends on their response to the hail, but…?”

“I’ll take the lead and punch in the override code to force open their back hatch. You two follow closely behind so when the hatch opens, you’re able to drop in first and intercept them while I’m vulnerable. From there, we’ll have to see if they want to come quietly,” you said, looking between Kora and Wanda. Both nodded affirmatively.

“What do you want us to do, sir?” Oliver asked.

You looked to him and Hubert. “You both have the most important jobs; I need you both to keep the rogue steady and comms open with us and the Iridescent. Depending on their panic, once we magnetize to them and start to board them, they could choose either to punch it to fly off with us, and you’ll need to be watching carefully to try and keep the ships steady—while we’re in the void with just magnetized boots, it’s extremely easy to break ankles. Once the override code is input, the booster engines will be killed though, so be prepared for that.”

“What fucking ship has a whole override code that kills it’s engines?” Hubert asked incredulously.

“Eden’s. Also, it’s not known to just anyone, so Jedd can’t come up to our ship and kill it,” you said pointedly. “But, they also won’t be expecting it, so that’s part of my plan to confuse them.” Looking to your whole crew, you gave them all a pointed look. “When we hail them, no one speaks when their comms are open. Let me do the talking—I have a story, but I need your trust in me to get them to believe it.

The four of them nodded affirmatively.

You looked to Oliver. “I’m going to need you to be very conscious of my motions and be ready to take the helm if need be, even before I get up to go scrap. I’m… very aware that I may need an extra hand, so if I look like I’m struggling, just jump in. Once we’re in the void, I can give you a better run down of what controls do what.” As he nodded to you, you looked to Hubert. “You too. If I have my hand on a control and you see that something on your side needs correcting, just reach over and do it. There’s no room here for thinking you’re going to upset me, or you want to let me do it—if it needs doing, then just do it. The only exception is if I say not to.” Hubert nodded affirmatively, and Oliver did as well after a second of consideration.

You looked to Kora, and their posture straightened out a bit. “You help these folks best you can. They’re not Brothers, but they’ve been working with me long enough now to get a handle on my expectations, so I want you to think of them closer to Brothers than not, got it?” They nodded carefully. “I’m guessing, based on your squad comp, you had the far left seat?”

“Yes, Brother,” they replied with a confident tone.

“Take that seat when we fly. Its not that I don’t want you running mechanics on your own ship, its that I want you to help the team in a ship they’re unfamiliar with,” you said both gently and pointedly. When they nodded affirmatively, you looked to Wanda. “I want you to hover around me, ready for anything. We have two mechanics on the team, which I’m not used to running with, so if you see a job that needs doing, do it.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she replied.

“It’s going to be chaos once the skirmish starts, so, while we’re on overwatch I want you folks to be watching Kora and I for how we manage the ship. How we monitor tells, how we move around it, how we talk to each other—don’t be afraid to get in our faces, that ship is cramped as fuck, and it spits out a lot of data with all those monitors around the cockpit. And, ask questions. Either of us will happily explain things,” you said, looking between the trio.

You got affirmative nods from each, Oliver’s more slow to reply with. You looked pointedly to him. “Concerns?”

He gave you a shy smile. “A… lot of them, but. I’ll just have to trust you, because, a lot of it is, ‘what ifs’.”

You gave him a gentle smile. “Thank you for trusting me. You and Hubert will be fine, it’s us putting our lives on the line, ultimately,” you nodded toward Kora and Wanda.

“That… is one of my concerns. Why do you say it like that?” Oliver asked cautiously.

“Edenites don’t surrender,” you said pointedly, expecting the exact face you got from Oliver in return—one saying “you did, though?” You ignored it. “We’re scrappy, we fight dirty. And I don’t suppose we could requisition any weapons for self defense?” you looked to Rylee, not in hope, but in question.

She watched you carefully with a tired smile. “If you’re such a dirty fighter, I’m sure you can come up with something that I wouldn’t have to fill out a requisition form with the rest of the council for.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“I’ll have some extra hardvac suits added to your supplies, though,” she spoke up, pointedly toward Veronica.

“Yes, captain,” came Veronica’s voice from her seat.

“Perhaps an extra mechanic’s toolkit. Those tend to come in handy,” she said with a knowing tone.

Veronica chuckled, but so did you and the rest of the bridge crew.

“What kind of weaponry are we expecting from them?” Hubert asked.

“Knives are our specialty, but we’re also very well trained to just use our bodies in any way possible—headbutts, elbow strikes, shoulder checks, full on body slams, shoving, tripping, grappling, you name it,” you replied, remembering you were holding your tea still and moved to take a sip. You’d been talking so much more than you have at any one time over the last few years, soit felt lovely on your throat. “Throw a knife into the middle of a full body grapple and you’ve got a serious problem, so do your best to be dodgy instead of on the offensive.”

Wanda nodded affirmatively.

Thinking of a point you’d considered earlier, you looked to Kora. “Do you… remember Jedd’s squad very well? Its Jedd, Marcus, Lee, and…?”

They sat quietly thinking for several moments. “Derek.”

“Derek, that’s right, thank you,” you replied with relief. “It’s been bothering me since yesterday.” Kora chuckled in response. “Do you remember if any of them are big guys?”

They slowly shook their head. “I… Don’t think so? Marcus might be between you and me, if I’m remembering correctly. It’s been a long time, though,” they said carefully. “Jedd’s about your size,” you nodded, definitely remembering that, “but Lee I think is Caleb’s size, and Derek might be a head taller than you, but not much bigger.”

“That sounds about right, thank you, Kora,” you nodded, running that over in your head.

Wanda studied you, looking to do some calculations in her head at those descriptions.

You looked between the crew present. “How’s everyone feeling?”

Kora and Wanda nodded with confidence, Hubert tipped his head in a “so-so” fashion, and Oliver nodded carefully. Peter and Trixie nodded, but Rylee watched you for a few moments before speaking; “What do you need from us?”

“Keep comms open, follow us as best you can, keep the gatlers warmed up, and be ready to take orders from any of us. Have medical and security on standby the moment we move in to make contact,” you said with confidence. It felt weird to be giving Rylee orders, but she nodded affirmatively.

“The mess hall opens up at 0500, unlike you folks may be used to, since our mobile nature and 24/365 operation means our folks’ wake cycles is more spread out than on a station. When do you want to do this?” Rylee asked, keeping her eyes on you.

“Oh,” you replied simply, having been assuming 0800 like the stations. “When is your shift?”

“I take breakfast at 0700 and am on the bridge at 0800,” she replied.

Several folks on your team reached for their PIIs, including you—though you had to put your tea onto the war table first to do so—to look at what time it was. 2312. Several groans came from your crew. Your PII still had the alert from earlier, and curiously you tapped on it and it took you to the message you’d received, seeing it was from Wanda. Tapping into her otherwise empty chat history, there was a single message there from when your PII gave you the alert; “You’ll have to teach me to scrap the way Edenians do.”

You gave the little tablet a slightly wry grin, and looked to her, but opted to reply to Rylee’s question first. “If folks met up in the mess hall at 0800, messed for half an hour, got geared up, and were ready to fly around 0900, that gives us a lot of time still to catch them. What say folks?” you looked to your crew.

“It’s going to suck, but, sure,” Hubert replied.

Oliver nodded resolutely, and both Wanda and Kora gave affirmative nods.

“Sounds like a plan then. Go get some good sleep folks, the bunks in the ship were stripped so there’s no decent way to get a nap in when we’re in the void,” you dismissed them with mirth.

“Well there goes that plan,” Hubert replied as he moved to stand, and you weren’t sure if he was joking or not.

“Yes, sleep well folks,” Oliver said, letting Hubert move past him before he tried getting up.

“What was that hand motion you two did?” Wanda asked in a lower volume voice, specifically looking to you and Kora.

Kora blinked, but you caught onto what she meant faster, and moved to set your PII on the war table, then reached out your fist toward her across the war table. That jogged her memory, and she reached to tap yours with her fist; that enlightened Kora, who reached to add their fist to the gesture, their movement extremely careful and barely touching you.

“Excited to scrap with you two tomorrow,” she said with a grin and moved to stand.

You gave her a wry smile. “Don’t be too excited. Clouds your judgment.”

She snorted as she headed to where Oliver and Hubert had held the door to the elevator.

“You two coming?” Hubert asked.

“Go on, I wanna finish my tea,” you gestured to it.

“Um, I want to ask more questions, but, thank you,” Kora replied.

The trio gave you a casual parting wave as Hubert hit a destination button and the door closed.

You raised a brow at Kora as you caught Rylee making a motion out of the corner of your eye, and Peter and Trixie moved to stand.

“Is anything wrong, Kora?” Rylee asked them.

You moved to pick up your PII, which was still open to Wanda’s message history, and foregoing the tea for the moment, you shifted your grip to type. “You’ll have to ask Kora to do that. Besides, they’ll have the experience of tousling with someone your size; Caleb’s about your size. I didn’t have any big guys on my squad, so I can’t help you much.” You gave the screen a soft smile before you moved to slip the little tablet back into your pocket and reached for your tea again.

“Of course I’m concerned, Kora. If you’re seriously hurt, or worse, in this endeavor, I’m down the best mechanic I’ve ever had. But also realize how important this is; these guys have been studying us for a month. We don’t know what they’re doing with that information; we need to stop them, and if you’re instrumental to stopping them properly, then I’m more than happy to let you do this,” Rylee said as you picked up their conversation a few sentences past where you last were paying attention.

Kora watched her with concern, even hearing her complement. “I’m… not concerned about my health or safety; this is something we do on the regular. I’m confident in that. It’s… this is the first time you’ve allowed me to even see a Brother, let alone fly with one?”

She gave them a soft smile. “I know… And I’m so sorry. It’s not that I don’t want you to; I’ve had orders. But. Being that this is my ship, my crew, and I’ve been encouraged otherwise, I’m willing to see what you two can do, together.”

You gave her a soft smile. “Thank you for your trust, councilor.”

She glanced to you, her smile turning just a bit wry. Kora, on the other hand, looked to have set their jaw to keep from crying.

“Simon, if you’re so confident in your ability to work together, I want to see impressive things from the two of you,” she said wryly.

“Can do, captain,” you said confidently.

Kora gave the barest hint of a smile. They looked to you. “What’s your cover story going to be? Jedd’s sloppy and an idiot, but he’s not stupid.”

You took a big swig of the tea, letting it go down slowly so it’s warmth could work on your overworked throat, and to let you think—then to accept what you needed to say. “I’ve… not told you something, Kora… and I’m sorry to tell you this, but… Jedd is the one who was responsible for Filament Station.” You paused for Kora’s face flashing an intense look of anger, but they got a handle on it and simply made fists on the war table. Anxiety bubbled up in your consciousness and the hair stood on the back of your neck; “I… was too, though. Jedd betrayed me, and placed larger charges than was agreed upon. …I was the one that pulled the plunger,” you said quietly, watching their face.

Their jaw wobbled as they processed that information. “Simon…”

“If it’s any consolation… Like I said earlier, I also lost my squad there too,” you said barely above a mutter.

They looked away from you, their eyes affixed on the war table. They didn’t say anything, and you hesitantly moved to take a sip of your tea.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” they said quietly, but resolutely.

Before Rylee could jump in, you gave them your Brother tone. “No. I want him alive. We need to know what the fuck Eden is thinking, targeting the Iridescent.”

They looked to you with a burning anger in their eyes, their jaw set.

“We both have reasons to want him dead. We have bigger reasons to want him alive. Do you understand me, Brother?” you asked them resoundingly.

They studied your face, their teeth grinding. After several long, tense moments, their form relaxed. “Yes, Brother.”

Your face softened to give them a gentle smile. “Thank you, Brother. As for my story… I want to keep that a surprise. Depending on their reaction to the hail, it may change, so I just need you to trust me and play along, okay? I… needed to tell you that, though, because it’s imperative to me hailing Jedd, considering he almost killed me too, and probably thinks he did, and, I don’t want to spring that on you suddenly tomorrow.”

They nodded quietly.

You moved to finish your tea, and then looked to Rylee. “I’m sorry, captain… I’m sure you want to get to bed.”

She gave you a tired, lopsided smile that was in between wry and gentle. “I’m, actually quite intrigued seeing you two interact. Seeing two Edenites interact as they should is something I need to know, so I know what’s ‘normal’.”

“This is far from normal, councilor,” you chuckled. “Us roughhousing, being loud, and throwing each other around the room is what’s normal.” You gave a thinking tip of the head as you thought about it further. “But. As for a raid planning session, pretty normal, actually. Less raised voices, though.”

She looked to Kora, brows raised. “Is this true?”

They looked to her, somewhat startled that she was addressing them. They were quiet for a moment as they seemingly processed what was said, then a small smile crossed their face before they nodded. “Less shoving, too.”

She gave them a snort. You chuckled and moved to stand, setting your cup on the war table as you reached to retrieve your satchel and sling it over your shoulder. After retrieving your cup to take to the collection point, you stepped over to where Kora was sitting and, acting as though you were going to simply walk past them, and ignoring their confused and hurt look at you doing so without giving them a parting salutation, you quickly shoved your weight into their shoulder, a move you knew wouldn’t knock them over with their size and weight, but would have any other Brother.

Getting your feet under you quickly, you stepped away briskly as they were still making a confused sound, chuckling.

“Hey!” you got a laugh out of them from behind you.

You looked back to them as you stepped up to the dish collection point and gave them a grin, setting your cup into the bin. “You said there was less shoving, so I needed to remedy that.”

They were standing as you spoke, and the way they stood to their full height dumped a cold dose of adrenaline into your veins, and you fumbled for your PII to call the elevator as they trudged menacingly over to where you stood. Rylee’s laughter reached your ears before they did, and you knew you couldn’t reach your PII in time to call the elevator, so you scooted away deftly before Kora could reach for you.

“H—hey now, I’m still healing—!” you stuttered as you danced away from them continuing to menace you.

“You should’ve thought about that before you griefed me,” they growled playfully, following right after you.

“Okay folks, no damaging anything on the bridge,” Rylee reminded with laughter in her voice.

“Hey, Rylee wants to get to bed, we should let her do that,” you said, playfully nervous.

You weren’t quick enough on a turn and Kora got their large hand on your right shoulder and reeled you in with their hold. “Yes, yes we should, Brother,” they said with a playfully menacing tone, getting their other hand on your left shoulder and forcefully directing you toward the elevator; their hands weren’t tight on your shoulders, but firm enough to keep you from leaving their grip. You couldn’t help but giggle as they did so, letting them walk you that direction. They stopped you in front of the elevator door, and they said with not quite their Brother’s tone, but close, “PII, please.”

You kept giggling as you reached into your pocket for the little tablet, then held it up to the reader, and let it fall back into your pocket. As the elevator traveled back to the bridge, you looked up to them. They were giving you a dark and playful smile, and you gave them a playfully apprehensive grin. You were just glad they hadn’t picked you up.

“Have a good sleep, folks,” Rylee called as the elevator door opened.

“You too, captain,” you called back with a laugh as Kora directed you into the elevator.

“Thank you, captain, you too,” they mirrored. They moved you to stand in front of the destination panel; “D1 please.”

You hadn’t had a large Brother in your squad, so having Kora treat you as you’d seen other large Brothers treat their smaller squadmates was extremely entertaining, and you just couldn’t help your laughter. You did as they requested, and looked up to them again as the door closed.

“Did you do this often to Caleb?” you asked as the elevator started moving.

A wry smile spread across their face. “No. Terry was your size, and this is about how we griefed him. Caleb was constantly getting picked up. By me or Gregor. It’s amazing his legs worked.”

The mental image made you laugh even harder.

Kora gave your shoulder a gentle pat and they moved to remove their hands from your shoulders as the elevator reached the requested level. You both stepped out, but as you moved toward where your temporary quarters was, Kora stepped to head the opposite direction. You both stopped, realizing the situation, and gave each other a smile.

“Have a good sleep, Kora, I’m glad I get to fly with you tomorrow,” you said first.

“You too, Simon. Thank you for… everything,” they said gently, and turned to head off.

“Any time, Bro,” you called after them, then moved to head off too, pulling your PII from your pocket so you could follow the map.

You took a deep breath as you watched a pair of dials on the console; one—the ship’s internal pressure gauge—was holding steady, the other—the external pressure gauge—was slowly decreasing as the audible sound of the airdock depressurizing filtered into the ship’s cabin even through your hardvac suit, over the engine noise, and between Oliver and Hubert giving status reports. Wanda, who was standing behind you, gave you a reassuring and firm pat on the shoulder.

A subsonic alert buzzer sounded as hazard lights began flashing near the dock’s bay door, and the door itself began to open, the rumbling of the hydraulics nearly shaking the little ship.

“Airdock 3 is fully depressurized and ready for launch. Safe flight, folks,” came Peter’s voice over your helmet’s internal comms system—huh. Must’ve been fancy COI tech, since you expected something like that to come through the ship’s comms speakers. Did it always relay straight into your helmet? Did they have direct comms to your suit?

You reached above your head to flip the switches to engage the lift thrusters, and you felt Wanda grasp the back of your chair hard as they burst to life, throwing everyone but you—and Kora, you had to assume, since you weren’t looking at them—off kilter. Your heartbeat quickened as the ship lifted off the bulkhead, and you couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across your face—oh that was a familiar feeling you didn’t think you’d ever get to experience again.

“Caleb told me this thing lists; how bad is it, Kora?” you asked, hearing your voice feed back through the comms.

“It’s a tight one, Brother. Ease up the throttle so you can get a feel for her,” they warned, their voice calm, steady, and more importantly, strong, unlike any other time they’d spoken previously as it came through your helmet speaker. It felt like you had the real Kora in the ship with you. That was incredibly affirming, and that gave you a sense of relief you didn’t know you needed.

You did as they instructed, and gave her only a hint of throttle; the ship responded by whirring up it’s booster engines, and just by vibration you could tell how much power was being output. She began to move subtly, but enough that you were able to calculate the trajectory of her list, and you let go of the throttle, the adjuster staying where you left it, to adjust her angle—reaching for the dial, you cranked it slowly at first, then faster as the ship refused to straighten out. It was an ugly correction angle, and you chuckled darkly.

“Once we get into the void and at cruising speed, I’m messaging him and telling him this isn’t a fucking list, this is a fucking u-turn,” you jokingly grumbled. You got chuckles from the rest of the crew. “Well, it turns out that it wasn’t the engines’ fault, since those got replaced and this thing still wants to turn tail and go back into her dock before she’s even out of the hangar.”

More chuckles filtered into your helmet through the comms system as you finally got the correction angle to where she was on the straightest course you could find—about 50 degrees—then reached to up her throttle.

“Has to be in the directional system somewhere, then,” Kora replied with a curious tone. “Fuck. Wish we could have tested that back when.”

“Do you service ships on the Iridescent too, or just the Iridescent herself?” you asked them curiously as you watched your clearance.

“It depends. There’s dedicated shipwrights on board, but sometimes they need another set of hands,” they replied.

“When we get back, you could take some time to investigate; get some closure,” you said somewhat preoccupied.

They made an affirming noise, but if they said anything, you weren’t paying attention as the ship crossed the threshold of the dock and out into the void of space.

“Gravity’s been lost, boss,” you heard Wanda report, which made you look up to the gauge she’d been watching.

Sure enough, the ship was out in the freedom of microgravity, and you reached up to disengage the lift thrusters, then reached to punch the throttle as the Iridescent began to retreat quickly from where you’d launched, as you were no longer pulled to it by it’s gravity. With the throttle fully engaged, you reached for the angle adjuster, and carefully brought her into a bank, allowing the ship to over correct so you were in line with the Iridescent, and then straightened her out. You could feel folks’ eyes on you as you brought her into the Iridescent’s shadow, and you scanned the multitude of monitors scattered around the cockpit, studying the Iridescent’s hull for a good spot to fall into cruise with that would keep your ship out of sight.

Spotting the perfect niche, you seamlessly eased the ship up into a crook between a rail gatler and it’s housing on the belly of the freighter by juggling the various handles and joy sticks; first by getting your pitch correct by checking monitors behind you for your proximity, then bringing your ship up to the perfect cruise speed and backing it in ever so carefully, then easing the angle with reference from the now-working left-side monitors until you were nestled neatly into the space as though your ship had always belonged there.

“Well done,” Hubert praised, sounding incredibly impressed.

You watched the monitors carefully to make sure you had the exact perfect angles, so the ship wouldn’t eventually drift to bump into the Iridescent’s hull.

“Looking perfect, Brother,” Kora looked over to you, though you couldn’t see their face behind their shaded faceplate; sitting in their seat, they looked both extremely comfortable to be where they were sitting, but also extremely cramped—though you were sure neither of those were mutually exclusive, being their ship, and their seat.

You breathed a sigh of relief and moved to take your helmet off, now that you were sure your holding pattern was perfect and you wouldn’t need it—hopefully for a while. You doing so prompted Kora, Wanda, and Oliver to do the same, but Hubert had moved to interact with the comms unit in his suit first.

“Eden’s Rogue to the Iridescent, we’ve found a holding position and are safely in your shadow. On overwatch,” you could hear from his suit’s voice regulator.

“Copy, Eden’s Rogue. We’ll keep you updated,” came Trixie’s voice over the ship’s comms, now that your helmet was disconnected.

Wanda chuckled and patted your right shoulder aggressively. “You did that like you’d been practicing! Why were any of us worried about you being able to pilot this thing with one hand?”

You chuckled as you tipped your head back to look at her. “I dunno if you caught it, but there was several moments there when I tried to reach for the console with my left hand, so I’m not perfect.”

“I’d never have known if you didn’t just say that,” Oliver complemented. “Certainly shows us you weren’t lying about being a pilot.”

“You don’t even look like you broke a sweat,” Hubert added, still sounding impressed—which was weird, coming from him.

You gave a genuine smile. “Thanks, folks.”

“Welp,” Hubert sighed as he moved to take his helmet off. “Now we wait…”

Seeing him take his helmet off made you aware of how odd your hair felt, and you reached up to adjust it; you’d never had long hair in a hardvac suit before, and you’d asked Wanda to borrow a hair tie and to help you put it up into a half-ponytail for the skirmish, and even as practiced as you were with putting a helmet on with one hand—the other being preoccupied in previous times—the ponytail sat oddly in the back of your helmet.

As you tried to tighten your ponytail with just your one hand, Wanda moved from behind you, catching your eyes. She stepped over to Kora and gave them a generous pat on the shoulder. “While we’re waiting, you should show me how Edenites scrap.”

They looked to her with a far more confident look on their face than any other you’d seen from them, but it still held familiar confusion. “Um, sure, I guess.”

“Practice for later,” she gave them a slightly wry, but mostly genuine smile.

You chuckled at her, shaking your head to try and get the hair to lay more normally. “Don’t overwork yourselves, save most of it for the actual scrap.”

She gave you a teasing look as she stepped back to allow Kora to stand—they were so tall that their head brushed the roof of the ship, and they had to duck to dodge some of the instruments that were affixed there, but at least they looked used to that, and did it automatically.

“Will do, Simon,” they chuckled as they followed after Wanda, who ducked down the stairs back toward the cargo area.

You couldn’t help but smile after them, the situation making you think of your own squad. You had to set your jaw and look to Oliver and Hubert to ground yourself back in the moment and not let your brain take you down a dark path. Oliver was watching the instruments diligently, taking his role as navigator quite seriously, even though you were sure he didn’t know what half the instrumentation was depicting—maybe he was able to tell, just by studying them now that you were out in the void. Hubert, on the other hand, had turned his seat to face where the comms monitors were, but had his PII in his hand, and looked to have pulled up a media of some sort on it.

You gave a sigh and did another once-over of the controls, studying everything, checking all the gauges, doing a full sweep of the cockpit before you settled in for the wait too. It felt… odd. These weren’t your Brothers—not even hearing Kora instructing Wanda in the cargo hold seemed to let your brain settle into the old familiar routine. Probably because you knew you couldn’t really treat the two sharing the cockpit with you like you could a Brother. So, instead of letting your brain go down a dark spiral of longing, you took prompting from Hubert and reached for your PII from a zipper pocket on your hardvac suit.

The list of media that you’d set aside while you were on Derin showed up as unavailable; you weren’t disappointed, since it made sense, but that did leave your options limited. You could practice the Doctor’s task more, and look for media from the Iridescent’s library… Or you had that book that you’d downloaded onto the PII’s local storage. You blinked at that option with a bit of concern; as intriguing as the premise was, especially with how similar it sounded to your situation, you weren’t sure you wanted to entertain that in such a compromising position. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you thought about it.

Eventually, you shook your head and decided against it. Instead, you made a new list, and started browsing the Iridescent’s library—at least, if you ever came back, then you’d have a list specifically curated for while being on the Iridescent. As you did so, you glanced up to check the instruments every so often, glancing around at the monitors, and checked on Oliver and Hubert. Wanda and Kora practicing down in the cargo hold made for a surprisingly familiar background noise—it wasn’t perfect, but the longer time went on, the more it felt homely, and your brain allowed your body to relax.

Until the proximity alert clicked. Cold adrenaline dumped into your veins as you looked up and to the left—but the console was completely different. There was no orange lights flashing, no green angle arrow display. Your breath came ragged as you continued to hear the proximity alert click-click-click. You took a deep breath and let it out slowly. What the fuck.

“Status report?” you asked aloud.

Oliver looked to you, and out of the corner of your eye you could see Hubert rotated his chair to look to you too. “What, sir?”

Click-click-click. It was the medium slow click, telling you that you were just within proximity of something, but not worryingly close. It made the hair on your arm and back of your neck stand on end.

“Status report,” you said again, trying to use it to ground yourself. What the fuck was happening.

“Um. Everything’s holding normal, sir,” Oliver said, confused. “There’s no changes on the instruments.”

You tapped out of the media library and over to your med tracker.

“Is something wrong, Simon?” Hubert asked, sounding concerned.

Click-click-click.

You stared at the med tracker, doing the math as you compared when you’d last taken your meds to the time—10 hours. You weren’t late to take your meds, why was it happening already, what was going on?

“Kora, Wanda,” you called, raising your voice so they could hear you in the back over their practice.

“What’s up, Simon?” came Kora’s voice, sounding on alert.

“Can one of you bring me a bottle of water?” you turned your head to speak toward the back, so you weren’t shouting but they could still hear you clearly.

“On it, Brother,” they replied.

Click-click-click.

You shook your head, trying to shake off the sound. “Fuck,” you said quietly, moving to put your PII in your pocket.

“Simon?” Oliver asked, rotating his seat to lean toward you. “What’s wrong.”

“My meds are wearing off too quickly,” you replied, trying to breathe through the anxiety that the clicking instilled.

“Meds?” Hubert asked incredulously.

Over the clicking, you could hear Kora making their way through the crew quarters and you focused on the doorway as they came up the stairs. As soon as they stepped into the cockpit, your eyes landed on the metal water bottle and you had to turn your head away from them.

Click-click-click.

“Simon? What’s wrong?” Kora asked in a tone close to their Brothers’ tone.

“Please come here and don’t hand me the bottle yet, but, just, press against me?” you asked shakily as you reached for where your satchel sat on the floor.

Kora stepped over to you and dutifully did as you requested, pressing their weight up against your left side as if the chair you sat in didn’t exist. The clicking didn’t cease as they did so, but their familiar gesture helped calm the anxiety as you dug into your satchel for the plastic medication bottle that the medical center had dispensed to you. You took a deep, steadying breath as you carefully uncapped the bottle, shook a tablet out onto the console, and then recapped the bottle and stowed it away. Reaching for the tablet, you glanced up at Kora, trying not to look at the metal bottle. “Can you uncap it and have it ready for me?”

Click-click-click.

They nodded and did as you asked as you moved to toss back the tablet, then reached for the bottle, pressing your weight into their hip and thigh from where you sat as you tried to look anywhere but at the bottle as you downed several large swallows of it’s contents. Sure the tablet was down, you handed the bottle back up to them.

You pressed into them, and they moved a hand to put on your right shoulder comfortingly as you focused on your breathing. “Do not let me touch the console for at least half an hour,” you said shakily, trying to look anywhere but at the console.

“Will do, Brother,” they said dutifully.

“Simon, what the hell is going on?” Oliver asked, his voice stronger than you’d ever heard out of him.

Click-click-click.

You took a deep breath. “I… took some really bad bashes to the head during my Realization. I’m still having hallucinations caused by it, but they’re usually well controlled by meds. …I don’t know why they’re wearing off so fast, though.”

Oliver’s face took on a worried look. “Anything we can do to help?”

“Just, keep me away from the control panel,” you reinforced with a deep breath. “I’m hearing a proximity alert. I know it’s not real, but, I’m afraid of instinctively doing something to “correct” it.”

Click-click-click.

Oliver looked to Hubert, who was out of your sight behind Kora’s large hand. Oliver nodded, “Yes sir, we’ll make sure you don’t.”

“Simon, what the fuck did you do for your Realization?” Kora asked, their voice both concerned and steady.

You shook your head. “Not while I’m reliving it, Kora, please…”

You felt them nod through how hard you were pressed into their body, and they gently rubbed your shoulder with their thumb. “You should call Caleb,” they said.

You took another deep breath, just letting yourself be squished by Kora’s weight. “He’s at work.”

Click-click-click.

“He’s your medic, that is his work.”

Fair. You tipped your head up to look to them. “I… okay.” You reached into your pocket, and shakily took the little tablet from it, tapping out of the med tracker—not before noting that you’d taken your anti-psychotic—and over to the messaging program, then to Caleb’s contact info.

Click-click-click.

“Ugh, fuck this noise…” you muttered as you tapped into calling him, then tapping on the speaker control.

When he picked up and answered, the connection sounded choppy; “Hey, what’s up?”

“My meds wore off early, Caleb. And it’s a new hallucination,” you said, not mincing words.

His tone, through the roughness of the connection, turned serious. “What’s going on, are you okay?”

“I’m—I’m at the 10 hour mark, I’m not even late, and—I’m hearing the sub’s proximity alert. I—I think it’s because we’re in a holding pattern in your old ship, real close in proximity to the Iridescent, so my brain’s, translating it with the hallucination,” you stuttered.

“Sub?” you heard Oliver whisper.

Click-click-click.

“What the fuck are you doing that for—okay, I’m not going to question it, but. What are you doing?” Caleb asked, his tone remaining serious.

“I, I have Kora pressed right up against me, and my crew are on watch to make sure I don’t fuck with the controls,” you replied, trying to stay in the moment. “I—I’ve taken another dose, but I’m, waiting for it to kick in.”

“Okay, good job Kora—just keep breathing Simon. Fuck, have you had any other auditory hallucinations before this?” you could hear choppy typing coming from the other end of the connection—was he at a physical work station​?

Click-click-click.

“Are you on a physical keyboard?” you had to ask.

“Yeah, that’s not a hallucination,” he replied.

You gave a sigh of relief. “Um. Yeah, uh, just one. A soft woman’s voice. I… I think it’s the Tree, though. I’ve also heard it in my dreams with her.”

You heard his typing stop, and he was quiet for several moments. “…Okay, I’m going to note down the proximity alert, but, not the voice. Fucking hell, Simon, now I don’t know what is a hallucination and what is a vision in you.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sorry, I told you I’m cursed.”

“Yeah… I don’t like that your meds wore off early. How long have you been in the void?” he asked.

Click-click-click.

You looked up at Kora and Oliver. Kora gave a shrug, and it took Oliver a second to snap into action, and he pulled his PII from his pocket. “Um, about 3 hours, sir,” he said loud enough for Caleb to hear.

“Who is that?” Caleb asked with curiosity.

“My navigator,” you replied.

“Ah, gotcha. You have the grav field on?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Click-click-click.

You heard thinking-tapping come from the other side of the connection. “Void shouldn’t affect it like this… Hopefully you’re not getting a resistance to those meds. That’s going to make this very difficult to treat. Hey wait—you’re planning on intercepting Jedd??”

You pulled a tight smile. “Not the time, Caleb.”

He made a frustrated growl.

“I’m here to help him, Caleb. I’ll make sure he comes back to you safe and sound,” Kora spoke up.

Caleb was quiet for several moments. “You better fucking do so, Kora, or I’ll punch your fucking lights out next time I see you.”

Kora laughed a booming laughter that you both did and didn’t expect from them. It startled Oliver nearly out of his seat, and if you didn’t know what your Brothers were capable of, you’d have been startled just as badly.

“Laugh it up puffball, I’m serious!” Caleb shouted over their laughter, sounding both serious and joking at the same time.

You couldn’t help but smile.

Click-click-click.

Caleb sighed as Kora’s laughter subsided. “Okay. Have you been taking 10 hour doses since you missed it ereyesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“Have those been working like normal?”

“Yeah.”

Click-click-click.

He made a frustrated nose. “It has to be that you’re in such a smaller ship then… That doesn’t make any sense though… I’m going to look into it, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied. “Are you… sure it’s not just, proximity? I mean. Yeah I’m far more comfortable in this ship, one I’m familiar with, and I’m not under an ocean of blood but—”

“What?” Hubert asked you from behind Kora’s hand. You could see Oliver’s face mirrored the sentiment.

“It’s extremely possible, Bro… Your brain’s stressed, hopped up on adrenaline, in a confined space like that again… Makes a lot of sense,” you could hear him typing. “Take it easy. Double the dose if it doesn’t feel better in an hour, okay?”

“I mean, I was pretty fucking relaxed when it started, but. Sure, will do,” you replied.

“Why’s that?”

“Kora was showing my mechanic how we scrap down in the cargo bay, I was just chilling hanging out in my seat—I was feeling pretty homely, not gonna lie.”

He made a concerned noise. “Stop worrying me more, Bro, come on.”

Click-click-click.

You chuckled.

“You’re not having any other hallucinations at the moment?”

“No. Just the clicking.”

He was quiet as he typed. “Fine. I’m gonna look into it. You take it easy. Do not fucking come back home more hurt than you already are, you got me?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Kora spoke up.

“You better, puffball,” Caleb said with a serious tone, pulling a much quieter laugh out of Kora.

“I’ll see you soon, Bro, don’t get yourself sick with worry,” you replied, moving your thumb toward the disconnect button.

“Too late, asshole,” Caleb replied, and disconnected first.

You chuckled, but so did Kora.

Click-click-click.

You moved to put your PII back into your pocket, and took a deep sigh that filled your lungs full. It’d been several days since they last winced from the bruising, and you weren’t quite used to them feeling okay again. You glanced to Oliver, who was watching you with a mixture of confusion, concern, and horror.

“Sub? ‘Under an ocean of blood’? Sir, what the hell…?” he asked carefully.

You let yourself stay settled in against Kora, the pressure feeling familiar and safe, despite the hallucination continuing, and they resumed gently caressing your shoulder with their thumb.

“My Realization… Was that, the, Consolidation found a moon, about three FTLT days from Derin, that’s covered in an ocean of blood. I was their disposable prisoner… Responsible for blowing up Filament Station, whether I was the one who planted the explosives or not, and they found the most fitting way to kill me… They sent me down, in a tin can of a submarine. …Sub…sanguine? …Uh, hemorover, I think is the official name…” You shook your head; why was that a sticking point in your head to try and correct? “Welded me inside. Told me to go take pictures of things they could scan, but the scans weren’t powerful enough to know what the point of interest was…” you recounted slowly.

Click-click-click.

You did your damnedest not to close your eyes against the clicking—that’d only make it worse.

“The only way I could see where I was going was to take pictures, or rely on the proximity alarm to tell me if the sub was too close to an obstacle. Well, I found some real bullshit down there. A whole ass fish monster, that bashed me around, and destroyed my connection to the retrieval ship. …I was down there, in a sub not much bigger than this room, for days. Trying to find a way back into comms range of the tow ship. In blistering heat. With the sub leaking mutagenic blood… Being stalked by the fish monster. It nearly ate me. …And I was rescued on accident…”

You set your jaw as you tried not to cry at the memory.

Kora increased the pressure on your shoulder to pull you in impossibly closer. “What the fuck?”

Oliver watched you with a horrified expression.

Wanda stepped into your view from the other side of Kora—you weren’t even sure where she was before that—and moved to sit on her heels, watching you with a determined look on her face. “You. Are one bad ass fucker, you know that?”

You gave her a lopsided smile. “I… came back cursed though, and, I can’t really describe it better than that. Something followed me off that moon… Something no one else could see almost killed me, while on transport back from the moon to Derin. The meds stop me from seeing it, which is why Caleb was so unnerved by the meds wearing off so fast… And, this is my first audio hallucination. It… has to be because the ship is so close to the Iridescent, my brain is overlaying that fucking proximity alarm click.”

Click-click-click.

“The, soft woman voice? The, Tree?” Oliver asked eventually, the cabin quiet other than the incessant clicking as no one seemed real sure what to say.

You sighed. “I think the Last Tree was reborn to me… See, us Sons had pendants, with seeds from Eden’s Last Tree, and…” You shrugged. “Mine got… Exposed to the same mutagenic blood that I did. It… started growing. With help from one of the Gardeners on Derin, I planted her… And, I started seeing the seedling, and it growing into a big Last Tree size, in several dreams, or… when you told me to go to medical the other night, she protected me from a hallucination then too. And she’s been speaking to me… I… Don’t know if that’s part of the Curse, and is just a hallucination, or…” you bit your lip, not sure you wanted to say it. “Or… She was actually reborn to me, and I’m… taking up her legacy, from Father.”

You looked up at Kora to see their reaction. They were watching you, wide-eyed.

“I’m… I’m sorry you had to find out that Eden’s Last Tree died, like this…” you told them softly.

You could feel their hand on your shoulder trying very hard not to grip your shoulder and instead remain soft. “You… have the Last Tree?”

You nodded to them, and gave them a gentle smile. “She’s about this big, right now,” you said, holding your index finger and thumb about 9 centimeters apart. “Started just like any of our other seeds did.”

Kora’s face squished as if to cry, but they got it under control pretty quickly. “What happened… To Eden’s?”

You shrugged. “No one knows. Most folks didn’t even accept it.” Thinking about it for a second, you moved to once more take your PII out of your pocket, and navigated through the programs to find the image gallery; with very little else you had to take pictures of, the timeline was filled with nothing but photos of the Last Sapling, so you tapped on the latest, and reached up to hand your little tablet to Kora. “See?”

“Wait, can we see?” Oliver asked, his voice upticked with a bit of excitement.

Click-click-click.

Kora’s face softened looking at the photo of the little plant. “She’s so small… I’m trying to imagine her as big as Eden’s Last Tree, now…”

“It’s hard to, isn’t it?” you replied as Kora moved to hand your PII to Wanda, who tipped it to let Oliver see too. “She’s so small right now, but she was so much smaller just a couple weeks ago… We’ve taken to calling her The Last Sapling to differentiate her from Eden’s Last Tree.”

“What the fuck, that’s adorable,” Wanda replied.

“I don’t know why, but she looks so happy,” Oliver commented. “How does a plant look happy?”

You chuckled as Oliver reached across you and out of your line of sight to offer the tablet to Hubert to look at. “I feel the exact same way. She’s got a weird, almost sapience to her, that, really lends itself to our belief that she is the Last Tree Reborn.”

The hard metal and the woven fabric of your PII and it’s handle touched your hand, and you figured it was Hubert offering it back to you; you reached to take it from him, and scrolled through the other photos.

“What do you mean by, ‘mutagenic blood’, though?” Hubert asked.

You paused in your scrolling. “While I was under the blood ocean… I found a wrecked sub. I was later informed that, that was the first, expedition, to the blood moon. A research vessel. …Why, Rylee keeps using the phrase, “passed my realization with flying colors”, was, because I went back, to that wreck, in order to have my sub download the information from the wreck. I didn’t need to, especially because the council had already sentenced me to death down there…” Kora’s hand on your shoulder tightened just a bit at that—not uncomfortably, but you could tell they were being very careful to balance their strength with how awful that news was, with trying to comfort you. Oliver and Wanda’s faces watched you with concern—Oliver’s more overt. “But. I did it anyway. And, the councilor, Ava, who was overseeing the mission promised to dive in after me to get me out, if I got that info. That fish monster ate her—”

“What!?” Wanda stopped you, standing in her shock. “THAT’S what happened to Ava?”

Click-click-click.

You froze and looked to her, just barely nodding.

She punched the back of Oliver’s seat, and he made a startled noise. Kora offered their other hand, and gently set it on her shoulder when she didn’t retreat from it. Hubert made a dark “tsk” noise.

“There was a notice put out that she was lost in action, but… no one knew what happened,” Hubert said quietly, his voice tinged with irritation.

“I’m, so sorry… I’m just, full of bad news for you folks today,” you said quietly.

“No. I’d, rather know,” Wanda said resolutely. “I can’t thank you for that news, but. I’m glad you said it. She was one of Damsel’s councilors.”

You nodded to her.

“The fuck was a councilor even doing down there?” Kora said gently.

“Overseeing extremely important information gathering,” you said, looking up to them. “That, blood… The info that I retrieved, was the research that the first expedition was able to do while they were stuck down there. It’s… it registers as human blood on testing, but it…” you shook your head, trying to remember what the medics explained to you that first day, “it, changes the body’s cells it touches, into blank cells, then turns those cells into cancer.”

“What?” Oliver squeaked.

“That’s, how it’s mutagenic. I…” you sighed, “I’m full of it. The patch you see on my face, this patch on my arm… I have more on my chest and back, this is just where that shit was cut off of me. A scan showed I’m full of mutated bullshit, all over inside me. The, cancer eventually stops being aggressive, which is how I’m not dying, but.” You gestured half heartedly at your missing arm. “That’s, also how I lost my arm. The mutations changed my skin into raw nerve cells, and, I had to have it removed, the pain was unlivable.”

“What the fuck,” both Hubert and Wanda said at the same time.

“But. They were studying the properties of the blood. If or what they could do with it. I… haven’t heard anything about their ultimate findings. Science is taking their sweet time. And I’m really only privy to it because of what it did to me,” you finished.

Kora moved to gently pet your hair. “I… see why you didn’t want to tell me yesterday…”

You nodded just a little against them. “I can’t even stress the kind of hell it was, just going through it. The only reason I don’t really have nightmares of it is the anti-psychotic I’m on for the hallucinations also seems to help with that.”

“Speaking of, how is the proximity alarm?” Oliver asked gently.

You looked to him, and listened. You hadn’t noticed it disappear. You breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing your weight into Kora’s side. “The meds have kicked in, in that aspect…”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Kora said, dutifully staying right at your side and continuing to pet your hair. “You should let Caleb know.”

You nodded a bit and, only just then being reminded you still had your PII in your hand, tapped out of the image gallery, and over to the messaging program, then into Caleb’s message history. “No longer hearing the clicking. I’ll keep you updated.”

“How the fuck did you go through all that, and you’re, still here and like. Normal?” Wanda asked, watching you with a subtle look of concern and curiosity.

You shrugged. “Coming from a… culture where no one seemed to value their own lives, I always wanted to live. I’m a stubborn idiot like that, I guess. Psychotherapy is helping pick up the pieces, but,” you said with a bit of mirth.

“Think you’ll be okay if I let you go?” Kora asked.

You looked up at them and took inventory of yourself; their presence had helped immensely, and you could hardly register the anxiety that had been plaguing you. You didn’t realize how much that would help. You nodded, and moved to pick your weight off of them. They took their hand back and made sure you had your weight under your own control before they stepped away.

“Thank you so much Kora; that was exactly what I needed,” you gave them a thankful smile.

They gave you a gentle smile in return. “You’re welcome, Brother, I’m glad to help. How are you feeling?”

Looking around the cockpit, you took inventory of yourself further; the ship felt familiar, and you could consciously and confidently name each knob and gauge in your head. Nothing seemed out of place, and even looking around at the crew felt grounded in reality. “Good. Even, having… recounted those awful memories… I think I’m okay. Uh. What time is it, it was around 1200 when this started…”

“It’s almost 1300,” Hubert said, looking to his PII.

“Think you’re okay with the control console again?” Oliver asked cautiously.

You nodded, looking over the console again, feeling more confident. “The… issue was that the proximity alarm was making me want to correct the controls, to make it stop. I, probably would have if the console looked anything like the sub console…”

Hubert moved to stand, which drew your eyes to watch him. “Well… with all that excitement over, I’m gonna go get lunch from the cooler. You gotta be starving after that, what say you,” he looked to you in particular, but looked to the rest of the crew too to gauge their interest.

You nodded a bit. Kora moved to go take their seat and let Hubert through, and Wanda moved to follow after him. “That sounds great, I’ll help hand it out,” she said.

“Don’t let the dry ice out too much,” Oliver called.

“On it,” Wanda called.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had temporary packed food on a personnel ship,” Hubert called back.

“Dry ice?” Kora asked curiously.

“Super cooled carbon dioxide. It’s great for keeping things cold on short trips like this, but if you let it warm up too much, it’ll just clog up the oxygen scrubber,” Oliver explained, looking to them.

“Want one too, Oliver, Kora?” Wanda called.

“Yes please,” they both replied in near unison.

Kora looked to you. “Did, Eden have anything like that?”

You tipped your head in a ‘sort of’ motion. “Not in quantities like the Consolidation seems to be able to make. We also didn’t really have a whole lot of use for it, at least, not in the same way the Consolidation uses it. Though, seeing them keep food cold on a trip like this makes me think we could’ve used it similarly. How the fuck did we never think of that…” you mused.

Wanda appeared at the top of the stairs with multiple cylinders of paper in her arms, and moved to hand one to you and Oliver; Hubert followed shortly after, and offered one to Kora before moving to sit back in his seat. Wanda moved to sit on the floor against the back wall of the cockpit, seeming comfortable to do so.

You watched curiously as the others unwrapped the paper from the center, unveiling a …sandwich, maybe? You mimicked them and studied the food before you; what laid beneath the paper looked like another layer of paper, but had the texture of a flatbread, but far thinner. You peeked at the others; they had moved to bite into it just like a flatbread, and it looked as though there were roasted veg inside. Huh.

“Never seen a wrap before?” Wanda asked around a mouthful.

“Um. No, a what?” you asked, looking to her.

The trio chuckled a bit.

“It’s kind of like a flat bread, but even flatter than that. It wraps the contents into a neat little package that’s hard to spill,” Oliver explained once he’d swallowed his first mouthful.

Studying the food parcel, and how others had moved to eat theirs, your brows furrowed a bit trying to calculate how to eat it; where they had wrapped the paper the sandwich came in around the parcel itself, you had to think of how you would even go about doing that. Eventually, you decided to completely forego the paper and just leave it in your lap. You moved to take a bite, and while the contents of the wrap were nicely contained at first, you could tell that would change pretty quickly if you weren’t careful.

“What kind of food did Eden have?” Hubert asked curiously through a mouthful.

“Mostly leafy greens, lots of different kinds. Beans, mushrooms. Some veg, like peppers and potatoes. Quinoa and millet for cereals. That’s about it,” Kora responded in between bites. You nodded in agreement as you chewed.

“Shit, you must be encountering so much new stuff then,” Wanda said through a mouthful.

“So, so much new stuff…” you replied. “And there’s so much more I haven’t tried yet, since I’ve only been on Derin for a couple of weeks. I can’t imagine the variety you must get a chance at, Kora,” you said, looking over to them.

They nodded, in the middle of a bite. “The Iridescent moves produce between all the stations, and there’s a stipend for the Iridescent itself to utilize whenever we stop, so yeah, we have the biggest variety throughout the COI,” they replied with their mouth full.

“So that’s why the Food Court will have a ‘special’ for a short while after the Iridescent docks,” Hubert mused. “Guess I never thought about it that hard.”

“What’s a food court?” Oliver asked curiously.

“Wait, where are you from you don’t have a food court?” Wanda stopped in the middle of a bite to ask.

“Opulet Station,” he replied.

“Opulet has a food court,” Wanda chuckled as she chewed. “It’s functionally the same as Damsel’s food court, and even though it’s called “The Mess Hall”, it’s bigger than the Iridescent’s mess hall and with the built-when-you-pick-it meals, I’ve always been weirded out by it being called a mess hall.”

Oliver blinked. “Oh,” he replied simply.

“What is a Food Court?” you asked, not having gotten a clear answer out of that.

“It’s like Derin’s Commons, but without the trader’s stalls,” Hubert explained.

“Oh, huh,” you commented as you listened in. “Wanda, Hubert, where are you both from?”

“Sounds like we’re both from Damsel,” Hubert replied as he tried to contain his wrap’s fillings to the parcel itself. “I’ve been all over though, chasing tasks wherever I’m needed.”

Wanda nodded and chewed down most of her mouthful before she spoke. “Yeah, I’m from Damsel. The best Consolidation native mechanics come from there, with the metallurgy guild being there. I’ve mostly stayed at Opulet though, and narrowly avoided Filament’s fate, as primarily I’m a scrapper and that’s where we get hit the most often by Eden.”

You gave an apologetic expression.

She looked to you in thought. “What is with Eden’s obsession with those two stations?”

You chewed on your last mouthful as an excuse to formulate a coherent answer—and, excuse. “Um. Well, they’re the closest. Was, in… Filament’s case… Also, smaller targets, so they’re easier to hit; less security, less distance to travel to get what we want and get out. Damsel’s so fucking huge and well guarded, that it was never a viable target, same with the Iridescent—who knows what they’re planning on now. Derin’s far, but we’ve hit it a couple times.” You paused for a bit as you thought. “Is Talbot still active? It was so close to the belt before the Quiet Rapture that when we went to search for it, we couldn’t figure out where it was and assumed it either got swallowed by the belt or was destroyed by the belt—it’s a station I’ve only heard of in this context.”

Wanda looked confused, as though she’d never heard of it. Oliver shook his head, and so did Hubert.

“When the stations were all flung off course by their gravitational bodies poofing, yeah, it got lost in the belt,” Hubert said, eyeing up his sandwich on where and how to bite it next. “I’ve heard rumor it’s still out there, but nothing actionable. And if the council is desperate enough to be studying a moon covered in blood, I’d have to assume that Talbot’s no longer with us, or we’d know about it.”

Oliver nodded. “I’ve heard much the same, and there’s a few documents on Opulet that have it’s last known locations, and it was indeed swallowed by the belt. I don’t know much more than that though. It sounds like we lost contact with it due to the composition of the belt, and that was the last anyone knew about what happened to it. No one’s crazy enough to go into the belt to look for it.”

“Sound like one hell of a ghost story, if the belt didn’t destroy it and it’s just out there, operating by itself still,” Wanda snorted.

“How big of a station was it?” Kora piped up curiously.

“Half of Eden’s size?” you had to guess. “It’s been a while since I looked at it’s blueprints, since it was more of a curiosity than an actual target.”

“There’s no way it’s still functioning then…” Kora mused.

At the same time, Hubert asked incredulously, “Eden has blueprints on the Consolidation stations?”

You nodded nonchalantly. “They’re old, so I have to assume they were publicly traded back in the before times. That’s how we made our plans for hits on the stations—we weren’t just going in blind.”

Explaining it that way seemed to make sense to him, and he lifted his brows in acceptance, and opted to just continue eating instead of responding.

As you moved to pop the last bite of your food into your mouth, you looked back to the console, studying the gauges and instrumentation; while you had noticed Oliver checking on it periodically as he ate too, something in your gut told you to look it over yourself. All the instruments on the console itself were holding normal, and tipping your head back and around to look at the other instruments scattered around the room said the same.

Blinking, you hesitantly looked directly behind you, at the wall where Wanda was sitting up against. Some dark, ugly instinct pulled your brain to study it, and out of your peripheral you could see Wanda watching you with confusion. The wall was covered in the same gauges and dials and levers as it was when you walked in, and looked nothing like the back wall of the sub, and there was no dark alcove where there was a computer, and no dark screen that would light up when you took a picture. Most of all, there was no camera button.

Your brows furrowed—you didn’t feel disturbed or upset by the instinct that it should look like that, which was the odd part. No, you were confused why it felt wrong, that it didn’t look like that.

“What’s up? Did your meds not kick in totally?” Wanda asked bluntly.

You shook your head—that wasn’t it. “Something feels off,” you replied.

“On your left… Be careful, it’s a trap…” That was a memory. You remembered that soft voice speaking to you in the sub, when you were looking for the SM-8 again. It was a different voice than the Tree’s, now that you’d heard the Tree’s several times, but, why did that suddenly come up in your brain? Who was that?

You turned to watch the left screens, which showed nothing but the Iridescent’s hull. The ship hadn’t gotten any closer to the freighter, just like you’d so carefully navigated, so it wasn’t that. Kora watched you carefully.

Wait. That’s whatit was—

As you moved to reach for the pitch joystick, the comms crackled in: “Iridescent to Eden’s Rogue, on your 1800, 225.”

“What?” you heard Hubert respond reflexively.

“Oh shit it’s action time?” Wanda asked at the same time.

“Hold tight”, you said as your hand hit the pitch and angled the ship sharply downward, then reached to punch the thrusters.

Oliver squeaked, apparently not having been ready, and Hubert swore under his breath. “Fuck this thing is fast—”

At the same time, Peter’s voice came over the comms again. “Exit angle was at 1500, 220. You’re about 50 degrees off.”

“On it,” you replied, hitting the angle adjuster harshly to wheel into their direction, the ship responding just like any other Edenian ship you were accustomed to piloting.

The trio certainly weren’t as used to it, because Oliver was gripping the console for dear life, Hubert continued to swear, and Wanda was whooping in excitement behind you—you had to wonder if she stood from where she’d been sitting.

“I see how Eden manages to out maneuver us so easily!” she called over the roar of the booster engines.

Kora chuckled. “250, 1700, Brother,” they called.

“Keep me updated,” you replied, keeping your hand on the angle adjuster—with that list, you couldn’t tell your angle without the compass.

“240, 1600,” Kora stated.

“230, 1500,” Oliver seemed to catch his nerve and do his job.

You straightened the angle adjuster quickly to it’s off-set of around 50 degrees to account for the list, then taking your hand back, you reached for the pitch joystick and straightened her out as well.

“You’re on their exit trajectory, and almost out of our sensor range. Good luck, we’ll be right behind you,” Peter called over the comms.

“Helmets on, and they do not come off until I’m back in this seat of my own free will, everyone understand?” you commanded, reaching for where you’d put yours with your satchel.

A round of “yes sir”s came from the crew as there was a flurry of activity to get geared back up.

“Hubert, watch those comms; when we pick up their signal, I want to be patched in on controlled-send only,” you said, reaffixing your helmet and getting it snapped back into place—with a little bit of trouble; you’d practiced, but under pressure it was very different.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, his helmet muffling his words as it wasn’t completely on yet.

“Kora, I know I’m not Terry, but I’m sure we have enough training to fly as a half descent squad,” you said once your helmet was on properly.

“I’ve got you, Simon,” they replied strongly, the sound coming through your helmet’s interior comms speaker.

You had to bite your tongue from giving them orders. You had to hope that they had the same training Landers did. Each squad had different methods and expectations, but there was a few unanimous understandings for the different chairs and their responsibilities, you just had to trust them.

“I have them on visuals,” Wanda said, her voice coming through both your helmet and from right behind your head—when did she get back to standing there? “2200, 30 degrees.”

You saw Oliver and Kora’s heads turn to look as well out of the corner of your eye as you looked to where Wanda indicated, catching sight of them. You reached to microadjust the ship’s trajectory to come in hot on their tail.

“I’m watching the comms, captain,” Hubert said.

Captain?

“Prepare for contact,” you warned, catching Oliver and Kora’s nods out of the corner of your eye.

What felt like an eternity and only about 30 seconds passed as the cabin stared at the ship get incrementally closer, and you took a deep, steadying breath that you hoped didn’t register over the comms.

“In their comms range, captain,” Hubert declared.

“Acknowledged. I’ll give you ‘send’ when I want to say something to them, until we’re on our own comms, and end communications after 3 seconds of silence from me,” you instructed.

“Acknowledged,” he replied.

A tension filled the cabin as you counted in your head. The ping of the sensors, the computer ringing up the ID tag, a few seconds to mentally register the tag, a few seconds to have confusion pass through the crew.

“Send,” you told Hubert, and paused for a couple seconds for the connection to establish—these old communication arrays weren’t that fast. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you put on your strongest commanding voice, “Jedd Squadron. Stand down. Cut your engines and prepare to be boarded. Father’s Orders.”

You counted to three in your head, and after three more seconds, Hubert replied, “Cut.”

“Oh shit, I got goosebumps from that,” Kora laughed. You couldn’t help but chuckle. “I wouldn’t want to be Jedd right now. Or any of his crew. That voice is so fucking scary, Simon.”

Their words made you and the rest of the crew laugh, and helped cut the tension.

Still, you watched for them to make their decision—either heed your words, or take evasive maneuvers. They seemed to do neither, which was not your expectation, but was a good sign, still.

“Hubert, can you make a channel that’s purely a Consolidation channel that you can chatter on but keep me patched into both, and that you can still hear both?”

“On it, captain,” he replied.

As he got that sorted, you continued to watch Jedd’s ship as yours crept closer—it continued to do neither of what you expected it to do. Did you spook them that badly?

“Channel set, captain. Simon, you can swap with a button on the right side jaw of your helmet—one push for just us, one more for all channels. You’re on all channels right now,” Hubert said.

You were about to reply when staticky comms chatter filtered into your helmet. “THERE— FUCKING WAY THAT IS SI—. HE’S DEAD.”

An evil grin spread across your face, sadly, to no one being able to see. So they were spooked.

“Terry Squadron in range for comms, Jedd,” came one of his squadmates’ voices.

“Come in Terry Squadron, what the FUCK was that order?” came Jedd’s voice—you recognized that voice anywhere.

“I said: Stand Down. Cut your engines. Prepare to be boarded. Father’s Orders,” you replied, even more darkly than before, the emotion fueled by their fear.

“Jedd, that’s fucking Simon—” came another one of his squadmates’ voices.

“NO IT’S FUCKING NOT—” Jedd barked.

You chuckled darkly, loud enough for it to come over the comms. “Oh yes, Jedd. Yes it’s me. I have a bone to pick with you, you almost killed me at Filament Station.”

Silence filled the comms, and you could register your crew chuckling.

“How the fuck did you get Terry’s ship?” came the first squadronmate’s voice. “It’s been missing for three years.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know that?” was all you got to reply before Jedd cut you off.

“How the FUCK are you alive? And no, I’m not following your false Father’s Orders, you’ve been missing since Filament Station, you ain’t doing SHIT for Father anymore. I demand an explanation before I board YOU.”

You chuckled again, letting the squad’s panic fuel a unique calm. “You’re not Father’s Favored. You have no fucking clue what I’ve been doing for the last year and a half, and your tiny brain would never be able to comprehend it if you did. I fucking said. Stand the Fuck down, cut your Fucking engines, and prepare to be Fucking boarded. Father’s. Fucking. Orders.” You spat each swear with venom, letting your voice raise in volume until your helmet was vibrating and you were sure your crew was wincing and able to hear you from outside their helmets.

“Holy fuck, Simon,” came Hubert’s voice, and you registered Wanda chuckling darkly.

A few seconds passed. “Jedd, he could be serious,” there was genuine terror in the squadmate’s voice.

“Simon, the Iridescent is on visuals,” came Kora’s voice over the comms.

You punched the button on your helmet in the silence from Jedd’s ship. “I’m going to boost, be ready to magnetize. It’s going to come in hard.”

“The boost might not work if it hasn’t been used in five years—” Kora tried to protest, but you had already reached for the button.

You felt Wanda grip your seat hard, and saw Oliver grab at the console in panic as you pushed the button—the ship lurched forward in an awful sputter, but move faster she did, and at an alarming rate toward Jedd’s ship.

“Jedd, they’re gaining on us!” came the second squadmate’s voice.

“Remember she coasts—!” Kora warned.

“I remember, just stay ready,” you said.

“Watch the fin!” Oliver squeaked.

“I am,” you were watching the monitors just above the viewport of cockpit that showed the camera view from the belly of your ship, calculating carefully when to cut off the booster to coast in more gently.

“Jedd!!” came his third squadmate’s voice.

“Punch it—” he demanded, but it was too late.

You set your jaw and punched the boost button again, cutting the extra speed right before your ship shadowed Jedd’s, and a horrendous jolt went through the ship as Kora activated the magnetization. The Consolidate trio made a collection of shrieks as the ships felt like they collided, and the sickening CLANG of the magnetization between the ships didn’t help the sensation much.

Before Jedd’s order could be followed, your hand darted to the throttle, and yanked it back, jostling both ships and throwing the trio off balance as suddenly your ship’s thruster output reversed.

“Now’s our chance—Kora, Wanda, put on your boot magnetization and follow me,” you said as you reached up to punch a button on the ceiling, and the ship responded by beginning to depressurize. “Ship’s all yours, Oliver and Hubert,” you said as you moved to stand, punching the boot magnetization button on your suit’s chest.

“We’ll keep her steady and comms open,” Hubert said, a bit harrowed as he seemed to be regathering himself in his seat.

Oliver nodded, and moved to stand carefully after getting his bearings to take your seat so he could better get at the controls as you and Wanda headed toward the back hatch, Kora standing to follow after you’d passed.

“Did they kill their comms?” Wanda asked, noting the comm silence as you stepped over to the keypad at the back of the ship and punched in the release hatch code.

You looked to her as the lock groaning open sent vibrations through the bulkhead and the hatch began to descend. “They could have. Or someone punched the comms controller so hard in anger that it broke.”

Kora couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“It’s probably to keep us in the dark of their own plans. Be ready for anything when I open that hatch,” you continued, then stepped down the ramp toward the ship below.

“Shit, we’re going to have to watch for wild shots to where our PIIs are stored,” Kora mentioned.

“Fuck, good call. I don’t think a punch alone will damage it, but if they’ve got knuckledusters or knives, be extra cautious,” you replied. “Eden doesn’t keep all of their life’s access in one pocket, so we’re not trained for it. Don’t let them onto you protecting that spot though.”

They both acknowledged that as you stepped down onto the other ship, keeping your balance by holding onto the ramp momentarily. You watched extremely carefully for if Jedd’s squadron was going to punch their engines at any moment, as although the engines were out of the way enough to not strike you once you were down on that side of the ship, it would still send you off balance and could easily break an ankle.

Stepping back toward the back wall of the ship, you studied the fin on the roof of the ship. It looked as though it had been well welded on, but that it’d been crafted out of scraps. Putting your hand on it for stability, it felt both sturdy and shoddy—what the fuck was going on at Eden?

“It’s been so long since I did this last,” you lamented with mirth, but stepped over to the edge of the ship’s roof, and moved to almost sit on the roof to allow you to magnetize one boot to the back wall’s 270 degree angle. Getting your other boot to do the same left you in a weird twist, and you carefully righted yourself to the new angled plane, then stepped carefully over to the keypad. “Remember, they’ve got cameras rolling, they’re watching us. Be ready, but also be cautious.”

“Shit, what, cameras?” Wanda asked.

“Just like the ones in our ship, Wanda,” Kora responded. “There’s one at 0600 of us, but don’t look for it, that’ll give away you don’t know where it is.”

“Fuck.”

You stooped over the panel access for the external keypad, and punched it, the small hatch sliding back just like the one on your ship did. Stepping close to the keypad, you angled your body around it to shield it from where you knew the cameras on the exterior were, and then carefully shielded the keypad with your hand as you awkwardly punched in the “depressurized maintenance mode” override code with your thumb, hiding it under your hand to obfuscate the code as well as possible. An operation light on the keypad turned from orange to flashing orange, indicating you’d input the correct code and it was running the command. The ship’s booster engines cut entirely, which confirmed the light’s indication, and you quickly stood and stepped toward where the hatch met the back wall when it was fully open.

“Ship is depressurizing, be ready to drop down,” you said.

“Okay so, quickly run by how I do that,” Wanda admitted.

“Step up to here,” Kora instructed, and you saw them step to the edge and stoop down to get one hand on the overhanging edge between the roof and the back wall, then she followed suit. “Keeping a hand on your magnetization button, demagnetize, then push yourself hard down into the cargo bay, and then hit magnetization again. It’ll hurt if you do it too early, but if you do it too late, you’ll float away,” they instructed. “Better for it to hurt than to float away. Demagnetize and go, when I go.”

She managed to keep herself from nodding. “Gotcha. This is shit you folks normally get up to?”

“Not normally, but we run drills for just this situation,” you replied as the tell-tale clunk vibration of the hatch lock disengaging rang through your boots and shook your bones. “Ready.”

When the hatch was open just a sliver, you got a good glimpse into the ship before you angled your body to follow the hatch as it opened, using it as a shield. “Two bogeys in the cargo.”

“Locked,” Kora replied.

“What?” Wanda asked, but didn’t say anything more, nor got a reply as the hatch had opened just enough to fit Kora inside, and they moved to let themself into the cargo bay in just the way that they had described; Wanda followed right after, seeming to have kept her head about her.

“Hubert, can you get Kora and Wanda on the all channels frequency?” you asked as you waited for the hatch to open to the right angle.

“Can do, captain. Gimme at least thirty seconds,” he replied over the comms.

“Kora, Wanda, don’t comm them unless you absolutely need to, but I want the option there,” you told them.

“Gotcha, boss. Staring down two bogeys,” she replied.

“Keep them staring you down,” you stated.

The hatch opened far enough for you to step onto, and you did so, moving quickly into the cargo bay. The room was full of gear, just like you expected it to be, and you had to kick a crate out of the way of the hatch keypad so you could shield it with your body to keep the code obfuscated.

“Who are you looking at?” you asked as you punched the “pressurized maintenance mode” override code in; the code kicked in, and the back hatch began to close.

“Jedd, and I think Marcus; guy’s between you and me in size,” Kora said.

“Magnetization on or off?” Wanda asked.

“Don’t let it break your ankles, turn it off when we get into the scrap. But, be crafty, and turn it on if you think it’ll be useful,” you stated.

“All comms enabled for Kora and Wanda. You’re on our channel right now,” came Hubert’s voice.

You moved to stand between the two of them but behind them, staring down the hardvac suit you recognized as Jedd.

“Who’s the pipsqueak? I don’t remember you having any of those on your squad, Simon,” Jedd’s voice came through your helmet, his tone a tantalizingly delightful mix of fear and mirth that he was trying to use to cover up the fear.

Huh, he must’ve had comms reenabled. You moved to punch the button on your helmet to change channel frequencies. “You’re asking stupid fucking questions, idiot,” you retorted.

He ignored you. “Also, no big guys either,” he chuckled darkly. “How many of your squad did I get?”

Your jaw trembled, and you had focus on your breath to keep from flinging yourself at him as soon as he said it. “You’re such a fucking idiot, Jedd, you’re still asking stupid fucking questions.”

He was quiet as he studied the three of you. The hatch finished shutting, and the ship began to repressurize audibly. You wanted a helmets-off fight with him, and you were willing to buy time for that to happen. You counted in your head how long it’d been since the repressurization kicked in, knowing exactly how long it took to fully pressurize that vessel’s size.

“COI uniforms, huh. Kind of bullshit are you trying to pull on me?” he finally stated.

You chuckled darkly. “If you keep asking such stupid fucking questions Jedd, you’ll never garner Father’s favor. But, since its obvious that you’re lost in the ghost light, I’ll let you in on the secret.”

You moved to take your helmet off, which prompted him to do the same. You shook your hair out after your helmet came off, and moved to clip it onto a hook you knew was on your belt specifically made for it; he simply tossed his aside.

An extremely brief look of shock crossed his face at registering your appearance, and you punched the boot magnetization button on your suit to turn it off, then stepped forward, brushing up against Kora’s arm to let you through their blockade—they stepped aside by one step, and you twisted your body to get in between them and Wanda, letting your left side go first.

“Fuck. Did I do that?” an evil smile crossed his face as he glanced at your missing arm.

You did everything in your power to give him the most bored expression you could muster. “No.” An equally extremely brief look of disappointment flashed across his face. “No, none of your pathetic attempts at anything could ever match what did this to me.” You let him seethe with that before you spoke up again. “Father’s pissed, Jedd; he sent me to come fucking get your work and dispose of you, because he didn’t even want to see your face again,” you let the deepest, darkest part of you take over your tone—you knew he knew that tone, and while it didn’t feel good to use it, it seemed to be doing exactly what you wanted to.

His squadmate hesitated a step back, and Jedd’s expression made several jumps, to the point you couldn’t tell what he was feeling. “I don’t believe you. Showing up in a fucking COI uniform, with a MIA ship,” he stopped himself and studied Kora and Wanda closer. “Take your fucking helmets off,” he demanded to them.

Kora did move to take their helmet off, and moved to clip it to their belt. “Hello, Jedd,” they growled, their voice darker than you could’ve ever imagined it. Jedd’s eyes narrowed at seeing exactly one of the two they were expecting to see.

“Caleb’s is busted,” you nodded toward Wanda.

“Bullfuckingshit,” his eyes narrowed further. “Caleb’s tiny, but not that tiny. Take your fucking helmet off,” he said with this Brothers’ tone.

You shrugged and gestured to her to try to take it off. She got the memo, and mimed having issues unlatching it, but eventually stopped after a good 30 seconds and gave him a rude gesture—wait did Kora teach her that?? Jedd snorted.

“You see, you fucking idiot, you’re so fucking far beneath Father’s eye that you never knew that he’s got a secret service, above the Sons,” you said, trying your best to sound bored, but it came out with more venom than you wanted. “Ever wondered how he gets his info about the COI?” you gestured between you and your team. “No one ever actually goes MIA. We’re Father’s Plants. One foot under the Tree, one in the COI’s council.”

His eyes widened, but he caught it and his brows furrowed in disbelief. “Where’s Terry then? Gregor? Landers, Ted, Barney?”

Your face grew hard. “You actually killed them, at Filament Station. Haven’t you wondered why Father’s had you doing his biggest tasks? Because you actually killed your Brothers, ones he didn’t call to be killed.”

The color drained from his face.

“You were on thin ice—one more fuck up away from him sending me in to dispose of you, and he’s been setting you up all this time—and here I am,” you growled darkly. His squadmate moved, and you raised your hand to point at him. “You stay right the fuck there, because you’re first if you don’t fucking let me finish.”

“Marcus—” Jedd hissed. His brows knitted in fear and anger and he squared up to you. “The fuck are you doing here then? It’s not like you to gloat at who you’re going to off.”

True. You didn’t let the hurt of the truth of that statement get to your face. “Came to propose an offer to you, a peace offering if you will; you have two choices. I’m sure you saw that the Iridescent is right outside; come quietly, and we’ll get you in with the COI. They’ve got a program to integrate Edenites into their work force, and we’ll inform Father you’ve been disposed of. If you want a fight, I’ll just fucking kill you. Either way, you’re not returning to the Grove, so you get to choose,” you watched him carefully.

He stopped himself from saying something several times. “You. Offering me, peace.”

You let a mock-irritated look cross your face. “It was Kora’s idea, the big softie.”

His eyes flicked up to their face, then back to yours. “You.You’re the soft one,” he snarled. “I don’t believe you.”

“No. You almost killed me. You have the Butcher,” you snarled sinisterly, ignoring how saying your moniker made the hair on your neck and arm stand on end.

Jedd stepped back, and Marcus put a hand on his shoulder.

“Jedd,” Marcus’ voice came out of his suit regulated by the comms module. “The Iridescent is right outside. They’ll shoot us down no matter what. We don’t have a choice. He’s right… We’re not joining the Grove.”

“You’re not a Son anymore, so you don’t count,” you growled, hoping to provoke him.

Anger screwed up Jedd’s face as you said that, and he shrugged off Marcus’ hand to step up to you, getting chest to chest, eye to eye with you. Bingo. “You don’t get to dictate that.”

“No, but Father does, and he sent me to kill you,” you hissed.

Before Jedd could reply, you stood on your toes and drove your forehead into his. Oh, ow, fucking concussions—that was a stupid fucking idea. You were seeing stars, but you’d been ready to do it and he hadn’t been, so he fell to the bulkhead like a sack of potatoes.

Wanda stepped aside and around Jedd’s fallen form to full-body tackle Marcus—she didn’t manage to topple him, but it threw him completely off balance, and she kept a grapple around his waist as she tried to recover herself to her feet.

Before Jedd could recover, you full-swing kicked him in the ribs to stun him, then stomped on his solar plexus, pushing the air out of his lungs. To add injury to injury, you let your weight fall down onto him, directing your knee into his sternum—fucking ow, that hurt too—and knelt on him with one knee, the other in a squat against the floor beside him, and grabbed his face and slammed his skull into the bulkhead repeatedly. “This. is. for. Landers. Ted. and. Barney. you. fucking. piece of. Tree. fodder!!”

“Lee! Derek!!” you heard Marcus call as you pummeled Jedd into the floor.

A hand on the back of your suit lifted you to your feet—you almost wheeled around on them until you realized it was Kora giving you a lift, especially as footsteps pounded through the crew quarters— you had to wonder if that was something they did often with Terry. With a quick glance, you could see Marcus struggling with Wanda, who managed to get such a good grip on him, that he couldn’t do anything to escape her, nor reach behind him to grab her, and she had left the magnetization on on her boots, and was essentially rooting him in place.

You were suddenly thankful that your ribs had healed at least before the scrap, because you were breathing extremely hard as the first of the other squadmates appeared on the stairs—it was Lee, the little one, who jumped down, and hesitated for a split second at the sight of Kora before ducking to help Marcus. That was his mistake, though, as with Kora’s size, they were easily able to reach across where Jedd laid groaning on the floor, and snagged Lee’s tiny frame as though he were made of paper.

“Pick on someone your own size,” Kora said halfway between a joke and dark seriousness, and threw him behind you into the bulkhead like he weighed nothing—you had to duck to allow Kora’s arm the arc to do so.

Kora then moved to step over Jedd and put themself between you and both Marcus and Derek, who had appeared at the top of the stairs shortly after Lee had, and you took that as your sign to spin 180 and focus on Lee.

Lee had landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, but like any other Brother, forced himself to his feet, and moved to square up with you, though he seemed to favor his left shoulder, the one he landed on. You couldn’t see his face as he still had his helmet on, but you knew how to scrap with Brothers smaller than you, armored or not—you didn’t let him make the first move, and sent a high kick straight to the side of his helmet. He tried to block, but only got his hand crunched between your boot and his helmet, though with his hardvac suit on, that wouldn’t cripple him, and you knew it; it did send him stumbling sideways, allowing you time to kick his balancing leg out from under him, and sending him straight to the floor. Before he could scramble to his feet, you pulled back for a full-swing kick to his solar plexus—he curled his knees inward and deflected your kick, but he shouldn’t have done that as that sent your boot straight into the underside of his helmet, which cranked his head and neck backward at an awkward angle before his head rebounded back to a normal position. He stopped moving, and a pang of guilt ran through your chest as you hoped you hadn’t killed him.

“SIMON,” Wanda screeched, and you turned just in time to dodge under a punch straight to the side of the head from Marcus, who had somehow gotten away from both Wanda and Kora. You couldn’t see what Kora was doing, just that they were moving around, and it made you wonder what the fuck was going on over there that they managed to let Marcus past them.

Brothers Marcus’ size were no problem for you either—Barney had been his size, probably a bit heavier, so your instincts kicked in hard. Recovering from your duck down, you drove your right shoulder directly into Marcus’ solar plexus, then as he was trying to get air back into his lungs, drove your elbow into his kidney. He drove an elbow into the back of your neck before you could recover to begin another strike, which sent you stumbling forward, and you crashed your good side into the crates they had stacked against the back wall of the cargo area. He stumbled after you, but before you could recover, he landed a particularly bad elbow strike directly to your left ribs—it knocked the air out of your left lung with a cry, but, oddly, it didn’t seem to hurt nearly as badly nor take nearly as much time to recover from as you expected it to.

A rogue swing from Kora’s left elbow slammed Marcus in the side of his helmet right as he reared back to go for another strike, sending him tumbling off to your right. Ducking under Kora’s arc of swing just in case another was coming, you felt yourself reach out to grab Marcus with your left hand—and recovered from the mistake before he could get his feet under him, and grabbed his right arm from where he was trying to lift it to block whatever strike he thought you were planning on throwing at him. Tugging his arm and swinging it around behind him, you got him into an arm lock, and kicked his knee out from beneath him where he’d managed to get at least partially onto his feet after getting nailed in the head by Kora. You couldn’t do much in this hold, but neither could he—he tried to grab at you with his free hand as he wailed from how much pressure you were putting on his elbow and shoulder, but you were just out of his reach; instead, you cranked harder on the arm you had a hold of, trying desperately to dislocate or break it so you could get a free shotat him once he was stunned by it.

“YIELD,” he barked through his pained cry, stopping his attempt to grab you and moving to place his hand against the cargo boxes he was pressed up against.

You let up on his arm a bit. “Swear by the Last Tree, Marcus,” you barked back at him.

“I swear, I swear on it’s rebirth—” he panted. “By the Father, Simon, I yield.”

You kept him in the reduced hold for several seconds as you breathed hard, studying him. Eventually, you let him go and stepped back, and he whimpered as he righted the appendage and cradled it against his chest. “Fuck,” he spat as he moved to sit correctly and pulled his knees to his chest to protect himself if you decided to continue.

You stepped away from him, giving him a hard look before you dared tear your eyes from him to look at Kora and Wanda. Derek was laid on the floor with Wanda’s boot on his throat—she wasn’t stepping on him, but it looked as though the boot was magnetized, and her boot was square on his adam’s apple, which while in his hardvac suit, he was not in any immediate danger of suffocating or getting his blood supply cut off. He was panting hard and trying to claw at her boot, and Kora had immobilized his legs in a similar way.

“Derek. Do you surrender?” you called to him.

“Do it, Derek,” Marcus pleaded from where he was curled up against the cargo.

“I surrender, I swear—” came his voice, choked, but clear through the comms module.

“Let him up,” you looked to Kora and Wanda.

They did so, and as they did, you noticed that Wanda’s helmet was cracked. Fuck.

Derek whimpered, possibly from whatever injuries he’d sustained fighting two people at once, but peeled himself off the bulkhead and leaned over Jedd. “Jedd, no,” he whined.

You reached for your helmet, surprised it was still clipped where you’d put it earlier. Holding it up to your face, but not putting it on directly, you spoke into it, “Hubert do you hear me?”

“I hear you, captain,” his voice came muffled and echoed through the helmet’s comms.

“We have two people here without the ability to seal a hardvac suit, I need you to fly us directly into the airdock,” you said.

“Confirming, two people unable to seal hardvac, need airdock directly?” he asked.

“Affirmative,” you replied, and as you did so, you could feel the fight digging it’s fingers into your muscles, your brain, dragging you down.

“Eden’s Rogue to the Iridescent. We’re coming in hot, unable to unseal the fly until in airdock,” you heard Hubert hail.

“Iridescent go, we hear you Eden’s Rogue. Depressurizing airdock 3 now,” came Trixie’s voice.

“Simon, how the fuck do I fly this thing into an airdock like this?” Hubert asked.

“Work together with Oliver. On the far left of the console is the magnet switch; drop us anywhere, then do your best to land her without damaging her back in her stall. I called for medics and security to be on standby, so don’t squish them,” you said, unable to keep a darkly humorous tone out of your voice.

“Oh sure, thanks for the heads up though,” he replied.

You could hear Oliver chuckling as you moved to clip your helmet back onto your belt.

“You have Consolidates flying that ship??” Marcus hissed.

You gave him a tired look. “Surely, you noticed that’s not Caleb.”

He was quiet for several moments. “How much did you lie to us?”

“Mmm, about 75%,” you replied.

“What’s really going on then??” he barked.

“I was being truthful about bringing you back to the Consolidation, about their integration program,” you said genuinely.

Kora began to chuckle. “You really sold Father having a secret service, though. I almost began to believe you,” they looked to you.

You gave them a grin.

Marcus scoffed incredulously. “Fuck you, Simon. What’s really going on??”

“We really were captured by the Consolidation. We really did go through their integration program. Neither of us have seen Eden since we went MIA. You really did fucking kill my squad at Filament Station. The council asked me to figure out what the fuck you assholes were doing flying around the Iridescent for a month, and here we are. They’re going to love having the real perpetrators of Filament Station, too,” you spat.

Both Marcus and Derek made sharp inhales, loud enough to register through their comms modules.

You looked to Marcus. “Would you like to tell me what the fuck you were doing buzzing around the Iridescent, before we get to there, because I can still kill Jedd here if you choose not to.”

Derek moved to leap up and Kora gave a threatening motion, getting him to stand down. Marcus’ chest heaved in his suit. “Father wanted new information. He had the Uncles work over the last year to develop an electrical patch we can fire at the Iridescent to overload their external power structures to force-disengage the dock hatches and take down the gatling system. The plan was, when the docks were open, we’d fly in the whole Brotherhood and take the Iridescent by force, slaughtering everyone in our wake. We’d take complete control of the biggest freighter that exists,” Marcus replied, sounding both very plain and genuine.

Cold sweat rolled down your back at that news—that was so far beyond anything you could have guessed, that it made you very afraid. “How much of this ship’s scanning did you take back to Eden?”

The ship roiled suddenly before Marcus could answer, nearly knocking you off your feet. Following that, the ship was let down with an uneasy clunk, and you could surmise that you’d been set down in the air dock. The audible sound of the airdock repressurizing came in through the hull, so you stepped threateningly over to Jedd before you lost your edge. “Answer me, Marcus.”

“No—stop—!” he pleaded. “Half of it—half of it, we bought your story because Father was upset at how little progress we were making, but we were so intimidated by the Iridescent that we didn’t want to gather more than we did at any one point—please let him live, I swear on the Last Tree I’m telling the truth.”

Kora watched you with hard eyes at hearing that. You took a shaky breath and stepped away from Jedd, looking back to Marcus. “Thank you for being truthful.” You looked to Kora and Wanda. “Are you two hurt?”

“I’m not, I mean, other than bruises and maybe some pulled muscles,” Kora responded.

“I… think I need to have my head looked at,” Wanda said quietly.

“You keep that helmet on until the medics deem to take it off, it’s fucking cracked,” you replied. She nodded lightly. “How the fuck did that happen?”

“Marcus, swung me into the bulkhead and slammed my head between his hip and the wall,” she sounded oddly calm and out of character, and that made you very concerned.

“Thank you for scrapping with us… We couldn’t have done this without you,” you thanked her.

Marcus ‘tsk’d. “Fucking, Consolidate scrapping with us. I would’ve never guessed.”

“I taught her,” Kora said, looking over their shoulder to give him a glare. “So, I’ll take that as a complement.”

“The airdock is pressurized,” Wanda spoke up. “Hubert just gave me word.”

You nodded and stepped over to the hatch, then moved to punch in the override code again, and the hatch groaned as it disengaged. Getting a glance outside the hatch, you saw several people standing in formation, and you put your hand up in surrender.

“My folks, come out first,” you heard Rylee declare as the hatch finished opening.

“Is that Rylee?” Wanda asked as Kora gently prodded her toward the hatch.

“Wanda’s severely injured, took a bad slam to the head,” you said as you stepped out, letting your hand fall to your side. “She’s not acting like herself.”

You spotted Rylee amongst the security folks standing ready, and she motioned for you to come over to her. A pair of medics rushed over as Kora led Wanda down the ramp. Stepping over to Rylee, she asked, “What’s the situation, direct my folks.”

You quietly nodded to her. “There’s two down, two capable of walking. I don’t know if the one by the hatch is alive. The other might be on death’s door,” you looked to a couple more medics, who nodded and moved to start that way.

“Ah—security, get the ones capable of walking first; if their legs work, they can walk to medical,” Rylee ordered. As a small team of security folks moved into the ship, Rylee looked to you. “Were you able to find anything out?”

You nodded, letting your eyes close with exhaustion. A deep breath got you to look back to her, and spoke in a low voice. “They were scouting to find spots to fire an electric patch onto the Iridescent. Overcharge and bring down the gatling system and force open the docks, then send the whole Brotherhood to take the Iridescent by force, for Eden to keep. These fuckers took about half their info back to Eden.”

Rylee’s face drained of color. She looked like she’d been prepared for bad news, but not bad news of that caliber. She lifted a hand to put over her mouth, her eyes horrified. “You’re sure?” she whispered.

“On the Last Tree, councilor. I threatened Jedd’s life to get it out of his second, and Marcus spilled it; I have no reason to doubt the information, based on his reaction to how bad he didn’t want me to kill Jedd. Kora and Wanda can corroborate, they heard Marcus say this too,” you said strongly.

She stood thinking for several long minutes, and as she figured out what she wanted to say, you turned to watch as Lee and Jedd were pulled from the ship on gurneys, then whisked away. Security moved into the ship to check it for hazards.

“Would you be willing to get on a call with the rest of the council with me?” she eventually asked.

You looked back to her, feeling your movements lagging. “Um. When?”

She studied you. “Are you okay?”

You stared at her, your brain feeling sluggish and unresponsive.“I’m, not sure.”

Oliver and Hubert stepped quickly up to you, both of them having had removed their helmets. Oliver, while he always had a concerned look on his face, looked even more concerned than usual, which was mirrored by Hubert, who never looked concerned unless he was being asked to do something he didn’t want to. “Simon, are you okay?” Hubert asked.

“Did you take a hit to the head?” Oliver asked, pointedly.

You nodded, though you could feel the movement was choppy. Maybe you weren’t okay.

“Boys, please take him to medical, all of my crew have escorted out the others,” you registered Rylee saying.

You nodded, agreeing with her decision, and Hubert moved to your right side to help you stay upright; you were suddenly glad he’d chosen to do that, as after a couple steps toward the interior of the ship, the floor pitched below you, and you could feel yourself leaning most of your weight on him. Ah, fuck.

“Caleb’s going to kill you, I hope you know that,” you heard Kora’s voice speaking at a low volume, with a hint of mirth.

You took a deep breath and let your eyes focus on their face. Your eyes didn’t stay there for very long, as your brows furrowed, and you registered that you were no longer in the airdock, but, vaguely recalled the appearance of the medical center’s treatment bay. That’s not where you were last?

“What’s going on?” you asked, confused.

They gave you a soft smile. “You bonehead, you made your already existing concussions worse, making that strike against Jedd. Knocked yourself out, eventually, and Hubert and Oliver had to carry you to medical.”

The scrap. “How’s Wanda?” you asked, suddenly remembering that Kora had helped her get to the medical team.

“She’s also got a serious concussion. Medics are worried, said if her helmet hadn’t been on she would’ve died. You saved her life with that story you made up,” they kept their smile.

You blinked, trying to get some sense of understanding back into your head. You looked around, noticing that you were not in a bed, but simply an oversized reclining chair that was reclined—you had an IV drip in your left outer forearm, probably why your head wasn’t killing you—and that Kora was sitting in a similar chair beside you that seemed far too small for them, where as it was far too big for you. A couple dozen meters from you, were a couple occupied beds, both complete with IVs and vitals monitors. You moved to sit up to get a better look, but Kora put their hand on your chest to stop you.

“You are to stay here tonight for observation, Brother” they said sternly, but gently. “You’ve tried at least three times to get up, and the medics asked if I could guard you to make sure you rest,” they chuckled.

You snorted and let yourself rest back again. Doing so, you realized that your pony tail had been taken out—huh. “How bad are the assholes?” you sighed.

Kora looked over to the beds that you’d been looking at. “You did a number on Jedd. He’s been awake in fits, not unlike you, so he’s probably got a bunch of concussions too. You sure did pay him back… Lee… the medics say he might be paralyzed, he’s alive, but unresponsive even though his brainwaves are okay.”

Your heart dropped. That sounded like a fate worse than death. “Fuck… If he’s alive in there, I’m going to have to apologize… I… he guarded himself from my strike, so I didn’t hit where I intended to.”

“Why didn’t you kill them?” Kora asked gently, their voice low.

You watched the pair of still forms on the beds. “I don’t want any more death, Kora… I’ve taken so many innocent lives, so many Brothers’ lives… It’s… all I know, and I’m tired of it. It hurt just to act like I did back on Eden, to try and intimidate Jedd into coming without a fight. I’ve… gotten a taste of a peaceful life, and I’ve been really enjoying it. And, while I don’t think that they’d willingly go through Realization and integrate, I want to give them that chance.” You looked to them. “I know it’s been really lonely for you and our Brothers, but, I want to change that. Make our lives better here. Give us that much better of a life away from Eden. Maybe… actually do something useful, instead of just surviving—the Consolidation seems to at least be trying to study the Quiet Rapture, and what caused it, while Father hides us away from it, and dooms us to just scraping by.”

Kora watched you with a concerned-like look crossing their face the longer you spoke. Did they think that was the concussion talking? You sighed.

“I’m, serious, Kora. That’s… not just my head being messed up. I know that doesn’t sound a lot like the Simon you knew on Eden, but. I had a lot of time to think, being in prison for so long. And… with the help of the psychotherapist, I’ve been… unpacking a lot of lies and thoughts that Father instilled in me, that. Being away from that, I realize weren’t my thoughts, that I don’t want those thoughts. Have you worked with Juniper?” you asked them genuinely, remembering the name of the psychotherapist that Rylee mentioned was the Iridescent’s resident doctor.

They looked away from you. “I see her once a week. Nothing really goes anywhere, because no one else wants to work with me. She’s said that she thinks that I’d do better if folks did and helped me see that folks weren’t so bad, but. She can’t force anyone to work with me, so nothing changes. Says, I’m stuck in between Eden and the COI. I can’t get out of old habits when new ones can’t form, but I can’t make anything change.”

You gave them a soft smile. “Well, I hope Wanda is able to make that change. She seems like the exact person you need.”

They nodded quietly. “I hope Rylee brings her on. She does feel like a Brother, as much of one as she can be.”

“If she’s able to heal up from that bad hit to her head,” came a familiar voice.

Both you and Kora turned to see Rylee walking into the treatment bay. Kora sat up straighter in her presence, but you simply gave her an acknowledgment nod, not feeling up to sitting up now that Kora had pressed it in your mind to rest.

“Coming down to see the carnage?” you asked jokingly, at least, as much as you could muster being so out of energy.

She chuckled and stopped between your chairs. “Good to see you’re awake, Simon. I wasn’t sure we were getting you back after you fell unconscious, you conked out so suddenly.”

“Probably adrenaline wearing off,” you couldn’t help but reply.

She made an indecisive head tipping motion at that. “I did want to come check up on folks. But, I’ve also got news that I’m glad you’re awake for.” She paused to watch for your reaction, but when you didn’t have the energy to give her the exact reaction she was looking for, she continued; “I was going to let you take that ship back to Derin, take your crew on a cruise back to their stations to get a feel for if you wanted to be a cargo carrier, but, with how bad your concussions are, I had to nix that idea. Plus, with the news we got today, we’ve opted to sail back to Derin.”

Your brows raised, waiting for the punch line. “It’s going to kill our trade schedule, but we need to dock for a little while. We need to throw Eden off our tail, and I need to get in touch with the rest of the council in earnest to make a big decision about what we’re going to do with this news. …I would love your input on that, Simon, and yours as well Kora,” she said, looking between you both as she said your names. “Simon, you’re correct. The council needs to take into account our experts’ opinions, and I can’t imagine any two experts more important than you both at this moment—Eden’s leader’s right hand, and my best mechanic, from Eden. We need to come up with a plan to both reconfigure the Iridescent, to foil their current plans so they can never come to fruition, and how to change up our route to fuck with Eden’s knowledge of us. So. I want to ask you both to attend a council meeting with the rest of the council so we can discuss this matter more in depth. That’s part of why we want to go back to Derin—the highest concentration of the Consolidation’s councilors are posted there, and I need a stable connection that the Iridescent doesn’t have normally. Plus,” she gave Kora a smile. “That’ll let you have some shore leave.”

The realization crossed Kora’s face, and their face scrunched to the point they couldn’t hold their tears.

You and Rylee gave them a gentle smile, and you moved to reach for them, but as they were sitting on your left side, you got pulled back by the IV in your arm, which made you sigh. Rylee chuckled at your plight, and moved to pat Kora on the shoulder for you.

“I’m definitely willing to do that, councilor,” you said, looking to her.

She nodded. “That’s good to hear. We’ll also need Derin’s Science division to study the ship Jedd came in, so we can reverse engineer what they found out about us. That’ll help us figure out what we can do about the information they gathered and take countermeasures. We might be in port for a couple weeks, even, so it’ll be at least a couple days until I ask you two for your presence at a meeting.”

That news didn’t help Kora’s tears at all, and Rylee seemed to accept her fate.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen another councilor, captain?” you felt compelled to ask.

She chuckled. “Too long, Simon. I’m able to voice into meetings when we’re not in FTLT, but because of the Iridescent’s mobile nature, and our tight schedule, it’s impossible for me to ever video in—the connection just isn’t stable enough. This’ll be an interesting shore leave for myself as well.”

You nodded, and looked over to the still forms in the beds across the room. “What are you going to have done with them? I assume they’d typically be transported to Damsel but… in this case…?”

She looked over to them as well as Kora got their tears in order. “We’ll have to see how their health shapes up. Jedd seems in a more stable condition than Lee, and if Jedd comes around and is healthy enough in the next couple weeks to be released from the med bay, he’ll go into the brig with his squad. If he’s willing to volunteer information, he might even get a reduced sentence; I’m already entertaining that for Marcus, since he’s the one that gave up what we already know, and has been cooperative even from his cell.”

You looked to her. “He’s already locked up?”

“Him and Derek have been released from the med bay, and processed into the incarceration system. Marcus is in an arm sling, and his ears were ringing, but he’s otherwise fine. Derek seemed to just have some bruising, maybe a light concussion,” she replied.

“Did you bunk them together?” Kora asked carefully.

She looked to them, curious. “They’re in adjoining cells.”

They nodded quietly at that, wiping tears from their eyes. “When my squad and I were salvaged together, we were separated but could at least hear each other. I think it’d be less traumatic for them if they’re not separated. If… you want cooperative Edenites, don’t treat them like they expect the COI to treat them.”

She watched them carefully for several moments, seeming to absorb that, then looked to you. “Would you agree?”

You shrugged—you didn’t have the experience that Kora did. “In theory, it makes sense. But I’d default to Kora on this. …I wasn’t captured with my squad. But, our squads are our family, each others’ comfort. Being separated when we’re already traumatized, especially like this? I think you’d get way more cooperative individuals by keeping them together.”

“Should I be concerned for my security forces if they’re kept together?” she asked seriously.

“They’re not getting out of a cell, just by being together. And… I think I got through to them that they’ve got nothing to win by giving a struggle,” you said.

Her brow raised. “Why did they struggle then?”

“I… uh. May have said something that provoked Jedd. But, Marcus and Derek were smart, surrendered,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Jedd’s not hard to provoke. Thinks very highly of himself,” Kora backed you up.

“He and I have had history for decades, even before Filament Station, so,” you continued.

Rylee put her hands on her hips. “Great. I have internal fighting between Edenites on my ship now,” she said with an overtly joking tone.

You gave her a sheepish smile in return.

“You were going to get it, if they lived, no matter what,” Kora spoke up. “My squad and theirs had issues too.”

She ‘tsk’d. “Well. I’m gonna head back to the bridge and plan a jump back to Derin. We’ll arrive in the afternoon, by my mental math, so get comfortable, and don’t cause any trouble with those two if they wake up, understood?” she looked to you.

You gave an affirmative nod. “Yes, captain.”

“What… do you think their sentence is going to be, captain…?” Kora asked carefully before she could move. “Being the ones who perpetrated Filament Station?”

She gave them a hard to read expression. “That’s something else I need to talk to the rest of the council about. We already made so many mistakes with Simon that we don’t want to repeat, and we thought he was the perpetrator. Knowing these are the real ones… It’s going to be a hard decision,” she said softly, looking to you. “If… you were up to it… I would like your input on that too.”

You set your jaw and frowned.

“Think about it. I don’t need an answer now,” she stopped you before you could get too deep into thinking about it.

You nodded quietly.

“You keep an eye on that one, make sure he doesn’t hurt himself further,” Rylee said to Kora, giving them a wry smile and a pat on the shoulder, then moved to head off. “Have a good evening folks.”

You and Kora chuckled, and almost at the same time gave her a “good evening.”

They looked to you. “Would you like me to get you something to eat? I’m sure they have nutrients in that IV, but, you gotta be starving.”

You sighed and let your head rest against the back of the chair. “I guess. What time is it?”

They reached into their pocket for their PII, and you finally noticed that your hardvac suit was draped across a table in between your two chairs, with your satchel sitting atop it; curious, you looked down to see your jumpsuit was still on, but had been unzipped and rezipped at some point—probably to check you for other injuries. Taking a quick inventory of yourself, you registered that your neck hurt, probably where Marcus got you, and your ribs were stinging again—not nearly as much as they had the last time they were injured, but that elbow strike to them definitely hurt and did damage.

“It’s 1948,” they replied.

“Fuck. What time did we get back?”

“Um… around 1230?”

“Have you eaten since lunch?”

They shook their head.

“Yeah, go get something to eat. I, guess I’ll take something too, if you bring it up.”

They gave you a smile. “Are you going to rip your IV out and go throttle Jedd the second I have my back turned?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your ribs pinching. Fuck, you’d just gotten used to them not doing that. “I won’t, on the Last Tree.”

Their smile widened and they moved to stand, but not before giving your knee a pat. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

You watched them go, and entertained the thought of getting a nap in, but your head felt less sleepy tired than it was just physically exhausted. Caleb sure was going to kill you… Maybe having Kora there would take the pressure off and make him not as upset. You had to chuckle at that thought, but it also made you smile, getting to know they were going to get to see each other.

What had Kora’s reaction been to Rylee asking them to go on a meeting with the council? Had they still been crying over getting to see their squadmate? Suddenly you were concerned for them; remembering how much they shied away from just a couple Consolidates acknowledging them stuck out in your mind. You couldn’t help but wonder how scared they’d be to be up against the entire council…

Hopefully getting to fly with you and scrap with Wanda had dug up some of their confidence… And if not that, getting to see Caleb would…

You stepped off the airlock bridge just behind Rylee, Kora following just behind you. You had been told that a docking party had been planned to be present for your disembarkation, and you could almost feel Kora’s giddiness behind you, despite them being completely silent as your group walked. Following behind them, you’d met Doctor Juniper, who wanted to accompany the disembarkation to observe firsthand Kora meeting up with Caleb. You had to assume Doctor Beckett would be present too, based on her presence, as well as being Caleb’s therapist too.

Rounding a corner that led into a larger observation deck, you did indeed spot Caleb and Doctor Beckett, but also, to your surprise, Joseph and Anseh, all standing at the other side of the deck. Caleb began to bounce on his heels when he saw you, drawing looks from the others with him, but as soon as Kora rounded the corner following you, he swelled to almost twice his size in excitement.

“Holy fuck it’s really—” he started, and then began to sprint at full speed down the deck.

“Oh shit,” Rylee chuckled, and quickly stepped out of the way of Caleb’s trajectory to Kora.

You wisely did the same, chuckling and turning as you did so you could watch.

An enormous smile split Kora’s face, and they reached out their arms in a wide catching motion as Caleb sprinted, standing strong as a bulkhead without a hint of fear. As soon as he got close enough, Caleb jumped up, slamming full force into Kora and wrapping his arms around their neck in the same motion; as if they had choreographed it—which, honestly, they probably had back on Eden—Kora wrapped their arms around him in a big hug at the same time, holding him close and tightly, more than easily supporting his weight.

“Holy fuck, it’s really you. I missed you so much,” you could hardly hear Caleb say with the way his face was tucked into Kora’s neck.

Kora couldn’t hold their tears as they held their Brother close. “I missed you so, so much,” they replied, their words coming out blubbery.

You couldn’t help but smile; it was so good to see them together again, and you did your damnedest to keep the bittersweet thought of what getting to see one of your squadmates would feel like, out of your head as you watched them.

Rylee tapped your shoulder as they got reacquainted, and when you looked to her, she nodded her head toward where Joseph and Anseh were still waiting down the deck. You nodded, and followed her as she kept moving. You passed Doctor Beckett, who was chuckling as he meandered down the way, observing Caleb and Kora.

Stepping up to Joseph and Anseh, Rylee offered both of them handshakes. “It’s so good to see you both again in person! It’s been far too long,” she chuckled.

“Good to see you’re still in good health!” Joseph greeted. “Not getting to see your face makes it very hard to make sure you’re doing well, you know!”

She snorted.

“Vie have a point,” Anseh said somewhat sternly. “You have to have the most stressful position of any of us, Rylee.”

Rylee made a brushing off motion with her hand. “I have a good crew, and that takes a lot of my stress off me.” She looked to you after saying that. “Which, what an outstanding young man you sent me. If I had a spot for him, I’d ask for his assignment immediately.” You gave her a thankful smile and nodded at her complement. “Sharp, observant, polite, hard working. Bullheaded, but, I think his other qualities make up for it,” she gave you a wry smile.

Joseph laughed, and even Anseh cracked a smile.

“How was your assignment?” Joseph asked, keeping vir smile.

“Um,” you smiled sheepishly back to vir. “It was, too soon. I, definitely see why you were so adamant to Umbra about that.”

“My, hopefully it wasn’t too hard,” vir smile fell, vir expression turning concerned.

“He had some hiccups in keeping on top of his health, and he needs some more trauma work,” Rylee said bluntly. “But beyond those issues, he’ll be an exemplary addition to any team when he’s ready— should he even choose to pick up an on-station position.”

“Oh?” Joseph asked, looking to her. “Why do you say that Rylee?”

“I think he’d be a perfect cargo pilot. Both my own crew and the crew who worked with him had nothing but the utmost of praise of both of his leadership and piloting skills—even with his disability. We can talk more about it later, but, we discussed him keeping that Edenian ship to haul cargo under a false flag,” she said, giving you a smile that you couldn’t quite read the expression behind it. …Was that, pride? Was she proud of you?

“We’d have to speak at length with Umbra of that situation,” Anseh spoke up. “Which, speaking of zir,” she looked to you as she spoke, “Umbra has gotten the station’s cameras up and running, and is wishing to see you when you have a moment to make sure that the coverage is acceptable; especially with the Iridescent docked with us, we’re going to need the extra security. With the high marks report from Rylee, it sounds like ze chose well in having you work with zir,” she seemed to complement, in her own way.

You gave her a somewhat uncertain, mostly sheepish smile. You hadn’t seen her outside of the meeting to give your official statements, so it was hard to gauge her personality—though, Caleb’s words echoed in your mind; “She’s a hardass old crone, but she wants the best for us, and really only knows tough love as a way of showing it. I love her dearly, but she doesn’t pretend to be anyone’s friend.”

Anseh looked past you and up, but so did Joseph, which prompted you and Rylee to turn and do the same out of curiosity.

Kora, flanked by both doctors, was heading toward your group, with Caleb sat perched on their left shoulder, as though he’d always belonged there—in fact, he probably did; his frame fit perfectly on their shoulder, and both he and Kora were perfectly balanced as Kora walked. The sight made you grin—now that was a pair of squadron Brothers if you’d ever seen them.

“Dear boy, what the fuck are you doing up there. You’re going to break an ankle getting down,” Anseh scolded, but Caleb only grinned at her words—was that mirth in her tone, that he caught because he knew her so well?

Rylee and Kora laughed, and when Kora was just a couple meters from your group, they stopped and held out a hand at hip height that Caleb slid down off their shoulder to step on, then down onto the floor without losing a bit of momentum—seemed that not even five years apart could break muscle memory between them. “Tada,” he beamed, which Anseh snorted at.

Rylee moved to offer Caleb her hand to shake. “I’m Rylee, Kora’s handler.”

He nodded and took her hand, giving it a hearty shake. “Good to meet you, councilor.”

“This little knucklehead is my charge,” Anseh said, looking up at Kora, but not extending a hand to offer to them.

They gave a soft smile to her and a polite nod. “Good to meet you as well, councilor.”

“I see where he gets his hubris from—messing around with someone your size,” Anseh observed.

Caleb bust out laughing, and Kora gave a slightly unsure smile. You grinned wryly. Caleb caught sight of you, and a flash of mischievousness passed through his eyes. “You, fucker,” he said, then menacingly stepped toward you. “I fucking told you I was going to feed you to the Tree if you got more hurt—”

You lifted your hand in surrender and stepped back, but Kora reached over and scooped Caleb up by his chest and under his arms like he weighed nothing and held him against their chest. “Not the time, Caleb…” they said appeasingly, holding him tight as he snorted and flopped like a stuffed toy in their grasp.

Anseh busted out laughing at how easily Caleb had been disarmed, and how easily Kora had captured him. “You, my fine fellow, I might need to keep you around to keep him out of trouble!” Kora gave her an uncertain smile.

Rylee laughed. “You’d have to find me a better mechanic, Anseh, and Kora’s the best I’ve ever had, so you’d be hard pressed to get them from me.”

“Test me, will you, Rylee?” Anseh gave her a scalding look. Rylee only grinned to her.

Joseph chuckled. “Well, this has all been fine, but why don’t we make our way to the Commons to get us some refreshments and continue our chatter?”

“Yes, let’s,” Doctor Beckett chuckled.