Valiant

[Valiant #26: Strawberry Kiwi]

Log Date: 3/4/12764

Data Sources: Feroce Acceso, Kiwi

Event Log: Rewind: 36 years ago

Kjurrtik: Havelock County

I have never encountered another tree like it.

A tree whose leaves are red, regardless of season. It stands in the midst of the forest like a drop of blood on a spring leaf, in a clearing all its own. Around it, the forest shifts and turns, but the red tree remains the same, always the same.

I discovered it when I was seven. We lived on the coast, near the ocean, and our house bordered the woods. Many were the days that I’d roam the woods with my cats, wandering the rills and streams of the forest beside our neighborhood. Exploring the little trails, watching bugs and other small animals trundle about their uncomplicated lives.

But the red tree was always unique, and I would return to it again, and again, and again. All throughout my childhood, when I needed a place to feel safe, to be at peace, I would go to the red tree, and sit beneath its crimson shade. It was a place I would go to escape my problems, but also to get enough distance to think my way through them, and return ready to confront them. It was the place I would go to when I needed to get away from people and the complicated world I lived in. It was the place I went to whenever it felt like my world was crumbling around me, and I needed a shelter that would never change.

And so it was no surprise that whenever I found myself on death’s doorstep, or on the edge of change, that I found myself back beneath the red tree once more.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Cradle: Sector 2 Hangar

9:56am SGT

It’s loud in here.

I’m sitting on the ledge that borders the quay proper, watching as people mill over the docks. In front of me is the Accatria, still docked at the same pier it was at when it arrived here, but now the CURSE ship is gone. In its place, and at piers down the length of the hangar, are a mix of Maskling and Viralix ships. Many of the Maskling ships are hybrids, much like the Masklings themselves; each one has a unique design, and many look like they used to be science or survey vessels that have had defense or combat elements integrated into them somewhere along the way. The Viralix ships are recognizable from their sleek silver hulls and graceful designs, and present a sharp contrast to the Maskling ships.

The docks themselves are loosely milling with people, machines, and piles of supplies and equipment; the Viralix are all easily distinguishable, since the custom of their race is monochrome, hooded cloaks. The Masklings, on the other hand, are a racial hodgepodge; among them, I see nearly every sentient race the galaxy has to offer, with many of them tweaked or hybridized to include elements from other races. Most of them look like they probably started with a human foundation and branched out from there; this is the first time I’ve seen this many Masklings in the same place.

And it is loud. I’d gotten accustomed to the Cradle being silent as a grave, abandoned as it was, but once the Maskling recovery fleet had arrived, shortly followed by one of the Viralix’s patrol fleets, the volume had gone way up. Now that there were actually people and life here, it was starting to more resemble what I thought an arkship of this size would resemble. Bustling with motion and life and people at work, even if most of that hustle was still confined to the Sector 2 hangar while the Masklings figured out what they were dealing with in the Cradle itself.

Things had admittedly been tense at first. The Viralix were pissed that there’d been a steady train of vessels violating their borders without permission, with the recovery fleet just being the latest extension of that. It had taken a lot of discussion between the Maskling diplomats and the Viralix command structure to bring the temperature down some, though that was helped in part by the glowing report that Midnatt and Sol gave about the Valiant Project, of which I was apparently one of the major highlights. Valkyrie’s ability as a negotiator and communicator also helped bridge some of the gaps between the Viralix and the Masklings, and the remaining distrust was dismantled by the Masklings agreeing to let the Viralix to observe the recovery operation. While not necessarily relaxed, the mood in the hangar was now more businesslike, and less adversarial.

“Well well, if it isn’t the savior of the Valiant Project! You’re lookin’ mighty bored.”

I turn my head to see that Cahriu’s crossing the quay towards me. “Hey, Cahriu.” I greet him. “They finally let you go?”

“The Council rep had a few followup questions from my report.” he says, sitting on the ledge beside me as he arrives. “Mostly about the whole encounter with CURSE. I think they want witness statements on record so they have a solid case against CURSE if they try to do something shifty in the media.”

“Legaci doesn’t think CURSE will publicize it.” I point out. “If they did, even selectively, eventually the truth would come out that they violated Viralix borders, tried to acquire control of another nation’s cultural property, and got their asses handed to them. She thinks CURSE will try to keep it hush-hush and sweep this one under the rug — the potential damage to their reputation isn’t worth it.”

“You never know.” Cahriu shrugs. “Stupid isn’t restricted to the unwashed masses. You got plenty of people in government and at the executive level that push through bad decisions all the time. You just hope it’s the other guy and not your group that’s steppin’ in it.” Digging in his jacket, he pulls out a tin and pops the lid, holding it out to me. It’s got gummipops rattling around inside it. “How about you all? How’s it coming with the Dussel mercs?”

I reach over, picking a blue one out of the tin. “Complicated. The Valiant Project’s still in control of the Accatria right now, and we’ll be hanging onto it until we manage to get some of our own ships. Sierra’s technically Commander now, but…”

Cahriu snorts at that. “Now that sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“Yup.”

“Is there anyone else that can take charge of the mercforce? Like the adjutant, what’ser’name…”

“Tony. And no, Tony can’t lead the mercforce. She has what’s needed to manage the logistics and day-to-day operations, but she lacks the charisma and connection with the wider mercforce.” I explain as I roll the gummipop around in my mouth. “There’s a platoon commander, though, that Sierra promoted to Lieutenant Commander. Her name’s Titania; she’s Venusian, has about fifteen years with the mercforce, and has the charisma that a merc Commander would need. Titania would be leading the mercforce in all but name.”

Cahriu raises his eyebrows as he chews on his gummipop. “And the Dussel mercs are gonna stay on and work for the Valiant Project?”

“We’re not sure. There’s already some that have indicated that they won’t.” I say, studying the Accatria. “I don’t blame them. The Dussel Mercforce is still blacklisted by the Colloquium, so there are probably some that want to get out and get back into a legal mercforce. There’s going to be a lot to work out, but I think the way it’s gonna shake out is that we’re going to dissolve the mercforce and reorganize it under the banner of the Valiant Project. Those that want to stay on can do so, and those that want to punch out can grab their last paycheck and go. The Valiant Project is going to need footsoldiers and basic staff anyway, so this’ll be our chance to get them on our payroll instead of getting those personnel through a contracted organization.”

“Mff. Yeah I don’t envy you that.” Cahriu says, shaking his head. “Sounds bureaucratic.”

“Thankfully it’ll be handled by people other than me.” I say, cracking the shell of the gummipop between my molars. “Personnel Resources isn’t my strong suit.”

“ ‘Course it isn’t.” Cahriu says, popping another gummipop in his mouth. “People like you and me kick ass and take names. We don’t do desk work and juggle numbers.”

“Mmm. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’d never considered it.” I say as the inside of the gummipop starts to fizzle in my mouth. “Usually after getting cratered into the side of a building or a vehicle.”

“Fair ‘nuff.” Cahriu concedes. “The risk of getting shot or hit by shrapnel is a lot lower when you’re working the desk.” Snapping the tin shut, he tucks it back in his jacket as he watches Blockchain slowly lumber across the docks, carrying a pallet of equipment. “Surprised you managed to get the rustbucket to switch sides. He’s been pretty helpful, though.”

“He just needed a chance to be appreciated. I had a feeling he was only fighting for CURSE because someone had roped him into it.” I say, lacing my fingers together. “He’ll be a good addition to the Project. We could have him fighting, but I think he’d just prefer to move things and be helpful, the way he’s being right now. He’d be really useful in disaster-response scenarios, with his strength and durability.”

“Speaking of additions to the Project.” Cahriu says, looking towards one of the groups of Viralix. “Did you guys lock in those two foxes that are in love with you?”

“Midnatt and Sol? Yeah, they’re slated to join the Valiant.” I answer. “The Viralix are skeptical about starting another group like the Challengers and CURSE, but they can’t exactly stop us. So they figured they might as well get some of their people in on it in case it ends up becoming something influential.”

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” Cahriu says. “Well, that’s good to hear. It means that the Valiant Project now has the tacit backing of the Viralix, right? Since they’re signing off on letting two of their people join.”

“Yup. The Viralix aren’t exactly popular in the Colloquium, but we’ll take what we can get.”

“Hey, neither are the Masklings, but we’ve already dedicated several people to the Project.” Cahriu points out. “We’ll just throw together a league of misfits. If we can’t be part of the popular clubs, we’ll just make our own club.”

I smirk at that. “Can’t argue with that.” Feeling my phone buzz, I reach into my longcoat and pull it out, checking the message I’ve just gotten. “Mmm. Looks like Sierra and Forecast want to talk to me.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you. If both of them want to chat with you, it’s probably important.” Cahriu says as I stand up. “I’m sure I’ll see you around. Based on what I’ve been hearing, the Valiant Project’s gonna be shipping out soon. No reason for us to keep hanging around when the recovery fleet’s got things under control.”

“Can’t argue with that either.” I say, stepping off the ledge and dropping to the quay proper, making my way towards the ramp of the Accatria. “See you around, Cahriu.”

Event Log: Kiwi

M.V. Nyroc: Lounge

10:31am SGT

“So you’re not seeing a lot of turbulence from your current Maskbearer, then?”

I lean forward on the couch in the Nyroc’s lounge. “Look, doc, I don’t know how many more times you’re gonna ask me that question, but you’ve gotten pretty damn creative in finding different ways to ask it. The answer is no. From what I can tell, this Maskbearer was conditioned to be submissive. What I can tell from the memories I’ve integrated so far is that her sole purpose was to serve as a Maskbearer. She hasn’t put up a fight at all.”

Sitting across from me in one of the armchairs is an elf Maskling with grey hair, well into the process of aging gracefully. He’s wearing a set of glasses that ride low on his nose, and a date slate in his lap — the very image of a therapist. The Council had him deployed with the recovery fleet last-minute after they heard I’d gotten killed and had to take on a new Maskbearer. It wasn’t unusual to get counseling after getting a new Maskbearer — it was actually required, as a matter of ensuring that a Mask Knight was handling the transition well and was in good mental health — but the Council always seemed to run me through more mental health checks than other Mask Knights got.

“Well, that is interesting to hear.” Quilf says, tapping out a few notes on his slate. “The anthropology team may have some questions for you about that. I suppose it is to be expected after three thousand years, but the way we acquired Maskbearers back then may be very different from the way we acquire Maskbearers now.”

“That sounds like a polite way of saying our ancestors probably kidnapped these people, broke them down, and conditioned them to serve as Maskbearers.” I observe drily.

“Perceptive, and probably also true.” Quilf agrees with a smile. “You and I both know the history of our people is not an easy topic. Our predecessors have made many mistakes, often in the name of keeping our race from going extinct.”

“Wish we could tell them it hasn’t done their descendants any favors.” I mutter. “But yeah, everything’s fine. I’m adjusting well. Faster than I would with a modern Maskbearer, at least. Am I good to go?”

“Unfortunately not. Even with the circumstances you’ve described.” Quilf says, lacing his fingers together. “Protocol requires a three-month cooloff period to adjust and adapt to a new Maskbearer in the absence of any pressing threats to national security. With CURSE repelled and the Cradle secured, there are no other pending security threats, at least at a scale large enough to warrant redeployment. You will be returning to Nichoyae for cooloff, and once your three months are up, you’ll be redeployed to the field.”

“But there’s the Valiant Project!” I protest, gesturing at nowhere in particular. “That’s important to national security! I’ve been deployed with them for the last six months; why can’t I stay with them? I’m perfectly functional and I’d have plenty of cooloff time while I’m between missions with them.”

“The Valiant Project will still be there in three months. They are not going to collapse if you are not there for a while.” Quilf says, reaching up and adjusting his glasses. “Though, I must ask, since it is my job: is it the Project you’re worried about, or the fact that you will be away from Songbird for a long period of time?”

I glare at him.

“It is okay to admit that you are emotionally attached to him, Feather.” Quilf says gently. “It is common for tangled pairs to be emotionally invested in each other. Your reluctance to leave him for your cooloff period is actually quite normal; it’s very common with paired Mask Knights, when one has to take cooloff time while the other remains in the field.” He gives that a moment to sink in. “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

I fold my arms, leaning back against the couch. “Not funny.”

Quilf shrugs. “Well, I tried. If it were up to me, I would let you remain deployed with the Valiant Project, since you seem to be in good condition. But this is the express request of the Council. They do not want to take risks with you, being the asset you are.”

“I’d be more of an asset if I was out there helping the Valiant.” I grouse. “Instead I’m gonna be kicking rocks in the zen gardens for three months. Waste of time.”

“It’s only a waste of time if you let it be a waste of time.” Quilf says, locking the screen of his slate and setting it aside. “You will have plenty of free time to use at your discretion. Perhaps pick up a new hobby, or learn some new spells. Maybe familiarize yourself with the history of our people, or spend time exploring your spirituality.”

I snort at that. “Trust me, any deity with common sense would want to keep this hot mess at arm’s length.”

“Spirituality doesn’t have to be tied to religion or deities. It can be an exploration of your connection to the universe around you, what it means to you and what your purpose is within it.” he says. “Is there anything else you would like to discuss before we end our session for today?”

I sigh. “No. I’m good.”

He nods, standing up and tucking his slate under his arm. “If you insist. I’m glad we had this talk, and I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, Feather.” With that, he heads for the door, and is shortly gone. Off to report to the Council, or play therapist for someone else.

Leaning my head back, I run my hands through my hair and let out an aggravated exhale. For the most part, the Council had been happy to leave me alone and let me operate under Forecast’s supervision for the last six months. Apparently he hadn’t told them that I was tangled with Songbird, but once they found out, red flags had gone up. Lots of them. They were concerned that I was tangling with a non-Mask; concerned about the influence that Songbird would have on me… which I found laughable, since the idea of Songbird being the naughty half of this equation was the furthest thing from the truth. They were also concerned when they found out that I’d Masked him for a bit, and then had to get a new Maskbearer; basically, there was a lot of stuff that Forecast had been omitting from his reports, and the Council, who was just now finding out about it, was starting to reassert some of their executive control over my life.

Which, in simple terms, sucks ass.

I had been tempted to give them the middle finger and tell them I was leaving the service so I could join the Valiant Project full-time, but Tarocco had talked me out of that. She pointed out that the Council would assume that I wasn’t in my right mind, since I’d recently taken on a new Maskbearer, and they wouldn’t hesitate to have me forcibly detained so I could undergo reconditioning back on our homeworld. And as I’d just found out from Quilf, I was going to be headed back to Nichoyae anyway — the only question was whether I was going willingly or not.

And I’d learned from past experience that going willingly was usually much more comfortable than being dragged, kicking and screaming, back home.

But just because I couldn’t change it didn’t mean I had to be happy about it. 

“I see your session with the therapist went about as well as expected.”

I glance to the side to see Forecast’s tall, narrow frame leaning in the doorway, arms folded. I scowl at him, sitting up straight again. “Happy with ourselves, are we?” I ask.

“Hardly. From what Tarocco tells me, you were actually starting to grow on Songbird.” he remarks. “And evidently, you two found a way to keep yourself from consuming his soul outright. That’s a remarkable development, from where I stand. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that kind of progress.”

“Yeah.” I exhale, unfolding my arms and studying my hands, and the runemarks on my wrists. “We, uh… had a talk. Got on the same page about a few things. Turns out I just needed to open up a bit more and trust him. Plus, he radiates power like a nuclear reactor whenever he’s getting amped up on music. Seriously, you wouldn’t believe how much energy he puts off. I caught him near the end of a song and was able to siphon enough off of him to send a supercharged displacement ripple through the Accatria’s entire hangar.”

“Sounds like you’ve found yourself a keeper.” he says.

“Yeah. So why won’t the Council let me stay with the Project?” I say, looking at him. “I don’t need to come home. I don’t need cooloff. I’m fine.”

Forecast shrugs. “The cooloff protocol is in place for a reason, Kiwi, and rules are rules. If we didn’t follow them, there wouldn’t be much point to them, would there?”

“Yeah, but when the rules are stupid…”

“The rules are there to protect you. And everyone else.” he says. “Inconvenience is sometimes the cost of safety. Inconvenience is much preferable to a mental break.”

“Minds aren’t the only thing thing I’m gonna break when I get back to Nichoyae.” I mutter.

After staring for a moment, Forecast pushes off the doorway. “C’mon. Let’s take a walk around the ship.”

I groan, but get up anyway. “Fine. But don’t expect me to open up to you or anything.”

“Hardly.” he says as I join him out in the hall.

We walk for a while through the softly-lit corridors, eventually reaching the rear observation lounge on the Nyroc. The hull plating has been withdrawn from the windows so we can gaze out over the docks, which are sprinkled with people, equipment, and supplies. It’s easy to pick out Blockchain, who’s been helping move pallets across the docks.

“If it makes you feel better, Venox will be on Nichoyae for cooloff at the same time that you are.” Forecast offers after a moment. “The action we undertook against CURSE did not go off as smoothly as we were hoping it would.”

“Oh yeah. That was the docking disaster at the CURSE HQ, right?” I say, folding my arms. “I heard about that. I was kinda hoping for something… more, to be honest.”

“We weren’t trying to cripple them. Just trying to send a message.” Forecast says. “Let them know what it feels like to lose some of their people. To be scared and reminded that their safe places aren’t as safe as they think they are.”

“Like what they did to our Sanctuaries?” I ask.

“Just so.”

“Serves them right.” I mutter. “The Valiant don’t know, do they?”

“Of course not. They already have plenty to worry about. Besides, CURSE needs to know that we are not going to rely on the Valiant to carry out our agenda.” he says, tucking his hands in his pockets. “We might be backing them, and might be able to influence their operations, but we’ll never fully control them. We’ll need to be able to act on our own, and in our own interests, when the situation demands. The sabotage at the CURSE HQ was intended to demonstrate that resolve.”

“Songbird would throw a fit if he knew we were behind it.” I say, searching the docks of his signature splash of tropical-blue hair.

“Doesn’t he hate CURSE?” Forecast says, glancing at me.

“Yes. But he’s also got a conscience, even for his enemies.” I say. “He would’ve spared Dussel, even after Dussel betrayed us. And he spared Prophet as well, even though his childhood friend has turned into a religious extremist that would drive Masklings extinct if he had the power to do so.” I pause for a moment. “Even after all he’s been through, he wants to believe that he can save everyone.”

“That’s not a bad star to be guided by.” Forecast says.

“It blinds him to the fact that there are some people that can’t be saved.” I disagree. “He’s not totally naïve. He’ll fight when he needs to. He won’t stand by and let other people hurt the people he cares about. But he gives second chances to people that shouldn’t have them. He doesn’t kill when he should, doesn’t understand that there are some people that you just can’t leave alive after you beat them.”

Forecast doesn’t respond right away. “You and I, and many others that work in national security, are predisposed to that. We deal with bad actors and malicious forces, and that colors the way we view the galaxy.” he says carefully, folding his hands behind his back. “But I think there is value in the way Songbird sees the galaxy. We need people that believe in a better galaxy, people that can envision a better way. People that are willing to take risks, to take a chance on believing that people are capable of being good, if we give them the chance to be good. We need people that have the strength to forgive. People that have the strength to show mercy.”

“Some people don’t deserve mercy.” I mutter.

“Perhaps not.” Forecast concedes. “But that is why people like Songbird will be tasked with building a better future, and people like you and I will be tasked with defending it.”

I don’t know why, but something about that stings. Perhaps it was the implication that I couldn’t be trusted to build a good future. Perhaps it was because deep down, I knew he was right — a galaxy designed by Songbird would be softer and kinder than a galaxy designed by me. And if I had to pick between the two, I would probably pick the one designed by Songbird, because it would be a nicer galaxy to live in.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you can do to let me stay with the Valiant Project?” I softly ask after a couple of minutes of silence.

“I tried, but the Council let me know it was not up for debate.” Forecast says. “It is only temporary, though. Once your cooloff period is over, you will be redeployed back to the field. And the Council cannot ignore the obvious benefit that comes from the fact that you’ve finally found a handler that can actually handle you.”

“Three months is too long.”

“It will be long, but the Valiant Project is not going anywhere. We have invested too much in it to let it collapse.” He pauses for a moment. “Although, perhaps I am approaching this from the wrong angle. I was under the impression that you were reluctant to leave because of your attachment to him, but perhaps the concern is in the other direction. Are you afraid that he will not understand why you have to leave?”

“He doesn’t understand our ways.” I say. “I don’t want him to think I’m leaving because we’ve gotten the Cradle back and we don’t need him anymore. I mean, that was the original agreement; we give the Valiant our assistance, and in return they help us find and retrieve the Cradle. But I don’t want him to think that I’m leaving because I got what I wanted out of him. I want to stay.”

“Fair enough.” Forecast nods. “Then why don’t you go tell him that?”

I glance at him.

“He cannot be expected to know what you have not told him.” Forecast reasons. “And while he might not understand our ways, I know that he is understanding. If you talk to him, I believe he will understand, and he will be willing to wait for you.”

“Okay. Yeah. I suppose that works.” I sigh. “I’m just not looking forward to seeing the look on his face when I tell him I have to leave.”

“It won’t be easy, but he will appreciate hearing it from you, instead of being told by someone else.” Forecast says. “And the sooner you tell him, the more time he will have to acclimate to the idea.”

“True.” I say, squaring my shoulders. “Right, I’m gonna go find him. I don’t see him down on the docks, so he’s probably wandering somewhere else right now.”

“Oh, he’s actually in a meeting with Sierra and the other Valiant right now.” Forecast says quickly. “They’re probably going to be a couple hours hours before they’re finished.”

I give him a flat look. “You give me a pep talk and get me all revved up, just to tell me that I can’t see him for another couple hours?”

He shrugs. “I had not accounted for how impulsive you can be.”

I roll my eyes. “You’ve only raised me since childhood and known me for most of my adult life.” Huffing, I look back through the window at the docks. “Now I’m gonna have to wait and work up the courage to talk to him again in a couple hours.”

“I have never known you to want for courage.”

“Yeah, well, this is different. I can kick people’s asses and don’t mind fooling around with my handlers, but he’s, like. Different.” I mumble. “I actually really like him.”

“What was that?”

“Shut up.”

“It’s just that I thought I heard you admit something to the effect of love requiring greater courage than battle…”

“I’ll punch you, old man. Don’t think I won’t.”

“I’m simply observing that you’re finally beginning to appreciate the value and difficulty of an actual, sustained, emotional relationship.”

“That the Council is forcing me to put on hold for the sake of protocol…”

“No one ever said that real relationships were easy.”

“Hmph.”

Forecast chuckles. “Jokes aside, I did have a suggestion, if you would hear it. A recommendation, if you will, for a gift you could give Songbird to help him remember you by. In case you are concerned his feelings for you may wilt in the interim.”

I glance warily at him. “A gift, huh?” Admittedly, it was a good idea… and one that I wouldn’t have thought of if he hadn’t suggested to me. “…go on. I’m listening.”

He smiles, studying his fingernails. “I seem to recall that Songbird has a particular fondness for fizzwater…”

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Cradle: Sector 2 Hangar

4:41pm SGT

Dunno if they’ve told you yet, but… they’re gonna be sending your girlfriend back to the Maskling homeworld for a few months. Some kind of mental health check that’s required after a Maskling picks up a new Maskbearer.

Sierra’s words keep on bouncing around in my head. She’d told me at the end of our meeting with the rest of the Valiant, once everyone else had left the intelligence center. Per the usual with Sierra, she’d relayed the news as flippantly as you might chat about the weather, and since I knew how Sierra was, I took it in stride, asked a few questions, and let it be. But now that I was done checking in on Ridge and Renchiko, and had some time to myself, I’d taken a walk to the edge of the hangar, where I could sit in front of the environmental shield and stare out into the vastness of space. Seeing the stars was always calming to me, for reasons that went back to my teen years. Every point of light was a reassurance, and as I sit there, watching the freckled darkness past the edge of the gas giant that the Cradle is in orbit around, I raise a hand out towards the brightest ones. Wistfully wishing they’d answer me the way they used to.

“You expecting someone to wave back at you?”

Even before I drop my hand and look over my shoulder, I know that it’s Kiwi. I’ve got her voice memorized by this point; how it rises and falls, how it sounds when it’s whispering or when it’s raised to call across a room. She sits down beside me as she arrives, staring through the translucent barrier that keeps the atmosphere from seeping out into space.

“Just watching the stars.” I say, folding my hands back in my lap.

“That’s like watching grass grow.” she snorts.

“For some people.” I say, watching how some of the stars bend slightly at the edge of the gas giant that the Cradle orbits around. “They help me feel calm. I figure you’ve heard about Starstruck?”

“Who hasn’t heard of Starstruck?” Kiwi scoffs.

I shrug. “You never know, and I didn’t want to assume…”

“C’mon, Blueberry. Teenage girls chosen by the cosmos to have the power of the stars at their fingertips and to defend the worlds they live on? Who hasn’t heard of the Starstruck?”

“It’s not exclusively girls, you know.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. Guys make up what, five, maybe ten percent of Starstruck squads?”

I shrug once again. “Roundabouts. I used to have friends that were Starstruck, and they’re a big part of the reason I decided to become a Challenger.” I motion out to the vast sprawl of the galaxy that’s visible beyond the environmental shield. “Whenever I see the stars like this, I think of them. Gosh, that was… twenty-five, almost thirty years ago now. Over a quarter of a century.”

Kiwi soaks this in, hooking an arm over her knee. “Nova was one of them, wasn’t she.”

I press my lips together, then nod. “…yeah. Yeah, she was. Before she went bad.”

“Do you think of her whenever you look at the stars?” Kiwi asks, her eyes flicking to me, and quickly away again.

“Not as often anymore.” I say, leaning back on my hands. “I still wonder sometimes if there was something I could’ve done to keep her from going bad. I wonder sometimes if it would’ve saved the Challenger program. She was already corrupted into a Dark Star by the time she’d reached the program, and I wonder to myself — maybe if she’d never been corrupted, things would’ve turned out differently.” I give that a moment to settle, before shaking my head. “No point living in the past, though. What’s done is done. We can’t look backwards to make a difference — we have to look forward.”

“Yeah.” she agrees, playing with the magnetic straps on her boots. “Speaking of looking forward, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

“You have to leave and go back to your homeworld?” I guess.

She jerks her head up, her wildfire eyes locking onto me. “Did Forecast tell you?”

“No, Sierra let it slip.” I say, rubbing the heel of my boot over the floor. “I figure Forecast probably told her, and then Sierra… well. You know Sierra.”

“How much did she tell you?” Kiwi demands.

I shake my head. “Not a lot. Just that you’d be gone for a few months. I think she wanted to get the jump on it, give me time to come to terms with it. In her own words, she wanted to give me advance notice so I ‘didn’t spend as much time moping around’.”

Kiwi’s lips twitch a little at that. “Moping, huh. So she thinks you’ll be sad and lonely while I’m gone.”

I give that an aggressive shrug. “I mean, I will be, but from what Sierra said, there’s nothing that either of us can do about it. Apparently I won’t even be allowed to communicate with you.”

“Yeah, the Council can be assholes sometimes.” she puffs. “Forecast says that once I do my time, I can redeploy. But three months… it’s a long time.”

“Maybe we need that time.” I say quietly.

She looks at me; I can see the confusion in her eyes. “You… want me to go?”

I shake my head, leaning forward on to rest my arms on my knees again. “No, I don’t. I don’t want you to leave at all. I think that’s the problem.” I pause for a moment to gather my thoughts before going on. “Ever since we… ever since Dussel shoved us together, ever since we got ripped apart, I’ve been… I’ve been craving you. That’s what it felt like when we got separated, when your Mask was pulled off me. It felt like getting ripped in half. And ever since then, it feels like a piece of me’s been missing.” I look at her now. “Is that normal?”

She looks away. “I don’t know.” she says quietly. “Until now, my Maskbearers have never survived me. That’s true for the vast majority of Masklings. Pairings are intended to be permanent; once you have a Maskbearer, you stay with them until you die. Even then, we keep their mind and soul once the body runs out of life. Relinquishing a live Maskbearer is rare, and typically only happens in specific circumstances for our espionage and special forces units.”

“Makes sense.” I say. But I don’t know where to take the conversation after that. I don’t know what to say, now that I’ve said what’s been weighing on me over the past week and a half.

“So you think we should spend some time apart because you don’t want to feel that way?” Kiwi says after a moment. “Like you’re craving someone?”

I open my mouth, then close it, taking a moment to think about my answer. “Last time I felt this way, I blindly followed someone into becoming something I didn’t even want to be. This is how I ended up becoming a vampire, and I’ve regretted that. I’ve regretted choices I made to try and be good enough for someone that didn’t give a shit.”

“The last time you felt this way was when you were in love with Nova.” she infers.

“Yeah.”

“But Nova never loved you back.” she says, studying me. “I do.”

I can’t say anything to that. Not because I don’t want to say anything, but because I don’t have words for what I’m feeling. After a second, I turn and reach out, pulling her into a hug, burying my face in her shoulder. She doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around me, gently running a hand up the back of my neck, her fingers winding through my hair.

“You love me, don’t you.” she says softly. “And that scares you, because the last time you loved someone, she hurt you.”

I give a small, mute nod.

“I suppose I can’t blame you for that.” she says, leaning her head against mine. “I can’t promise you that I’ll never hurt you, Feroce. I’ve hurt a lot of people that tried to help me. I’ve gotten a lot of people killed. Forecast has told me I’ve left a trail of ruined lives in my wake, and he’s probably right.” She pauses, then nuzzles into my neck. “But I don’t want you to be one of them. I want you to keep being a part of my life.”

“I suppose that’s part of the risk, isn’t it.” I mumble. “Being in love means you might get hurt.”

“Yes. And I know you’re risk-averse, so I know that’s not easy for you.”

“Yeah.” I agree. After a moment, I take a deep breath and let it out. “I’ll take that risk for you, though. It’s a little scary, but I think it’s worth it.”

“Thank you.” she murmurs, hugging me a little tighter. We stay that way for a minute or so before she speaks again. “I got something for you, by the way.”

“Really?” I say, pulling away slightly to look at her. “You didn’t have to.”

“I figured it’d be thanks for putting up with me.” she says, letting go of me so she can reach into her jacket, pulling out a round pocket flask and holding it out to me. “And a little something that you can remember me by while I’m gone.”

I reach out, taking the flask. It looks custom-designed, with feather patterns etched into the metal exterior, providing a unique tactile sensation that you wouldn't expect from a bog-standard pocket flask. The rim of the cap is lined with rubber, to make it easier to grip when screwing it open, and a little strip of glass running down the side of the flask makes it easy to see how full it is.

“Well dang.” I murmur. “This is really nice. Like, this is an actual, personally designed pocket flask. You can’t get something like this off the shelf. You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“It used to be mine, but I never used it. So I want you to have it. A little bit of me that can stay with you.” she says, reaching up and tapping on the glass strip. “I already filled it up with fizzwater for you, but I decided I’d give you a new flavor to try, instead of your usual cherry-lemon mix.”

“Oh, really? What’s that?” I ask, turning the flask to see the liquid within is green.

“Strawberry kiwi.” she says, smiling. “Seventy on the strawberry, thirty on the kiwi. That proportion was the best mix, I found.”

“Is it now?” I laugh a little. “And how’d you find that out?”

“Look, I had to drink a lot of fizzwater to figure out what the best proportion was for that flavor mix, so you better enjoy it.” she says as she scoots up close, leaning against me.

“I’m sure I will.” I say, slipping an arm around her. “I’m gonna miss you, Kiwi.”

“I’ll miss you too, Blueberry. But we’ll be together again.” she says, resting her head on my shoulder as we gaze at the vast galaxy beyond the hangar’s environmental shield.

“I’m sure of it.”

END OF VALIANT: SEASON 1

Thank you for reading.

VALIANT will return in Gap Stories: Volume One.